Here's the Deal

Ok, so, I know I've been kinda MIA lately. And then I get back on here and I'm all like "I've been so busy and I miss blogging and writing and as soon as things settle down and get back to normal I'll be back" and yadda yadda yadda.

Well, I suppose it is finally time to come clean. I've been exhausted. And tired. And sick.  And...

well...

pregnant.





NOT!  Sorry, couldn't resist. I know everyone is just waiting for that announcement, but you'll just have to keep waiting.

Truth is... I'm a little embarrassed to admit it, but, about three months ago, we took the plunge into somewhat recent television-hood and subscribed to streaming Netflix. And I've been like a little kid in a candy shop ever since.

I've watched River Monsters. All of them.  And Numb3rs. Most of them. And some 24, and some Mythbusters, and some great documentaries (The Kennedy's, anyone?)

But, what takes up most of my viewing pleasure?  McDreamy. And McSteamy.

Yes, that's right. For the past 3 months, I've averaged about 1.5 episodes every 2 days.  Now I must insert a disclaimer that the hubs works evenings, so I'm not sacrificing that time. And I watch after Ansley is in bed.  And I make sure the house and things are cleaned up.

But then, I spend about 47 minutes in Seattle, roaming the halls of Seattle Grace hospital.

I've always been a sucker for medical dramas, so this isn't anything new. And, I used to watch the episodes as they aired, but even though the switch to digital was supposed to be so much better, I get fewer channels now than I did before, and the channels I do get don't have sound. So, yeah, Netflix was to us what indoor plumbing was to my grandparents.

At least, I think they grew up without it.  I know my grandmother certainly appreciates it now.

Maybe it's more like a porta-potty. Not quite as nice as the real thing, but it beats using a tree.

A bit harsh.

Upon closer inspection, I realized that my post about my bad day was a bit harsh, and did not paint a truthful picture of said family member.

So, for that, I appologize to all my readers. As a woman, I tend to let my emotion fuel me. Paul pointed out that no matter how hurt I was, it did not give me the right to harm another's feelings.

If you're reading, I am sorry. It was not a mature thing to do. I, obviously, am not much of a person.

Stop it, Right now!

Ansley is 20 days from being 9 months old.

Let me repeat that. 9 MONTHS OLD.

I always hear people saying "Oh, it will go by so fast. Treasure every moment." I just wish someone had warned me that it would go by this fast. I haven't even finished her room yet!

Here's the latest:

We have a crawler...almost. I guess we have more of a lunger. She'll get on her hands and knees, rock back and forth a little, then lunge herself forward. 9 out of 10 times, it results in a face plant into the floor. She has mastered moving backwards though.

She may look like her daddy, but she has her aunt's attitude. No joke. When she first started eating solids, it was kinda cute to watch her sputter out what she didn't like. Cute is no more. If she doesn't like what you are feeding her, it will either end up on your face, or each bite will be followed by a loud grunting scream.

She's also becoming a fit-pitcher, turning bright red, clenching her jaw and fists, and then screaming when she doesn't get her way. Whether it's yucky food, mommy's sunglasses being taken away, or daddy not stopping to say hi while passing through the living room. Who knew babies could be impatient?

Sometimes, I'm pretty sure she's going to turn green and rip her clothes off. My family calls her Baby Hulk. It may soon become a reality.

We had our first real fever. It hit suddenly, and topped out at nearly 104. Yes, I kinda freaked out. Yes, I was one of those first-time mommas and called the doctor. Yes, I took her in and yes, the doctor said nothing was wrong, just to piggy-back Tylenol and Motrin. I thought Paul would be frustrated with my seemingly invalid concern, but he laughed and said, "Just getting closer to the deductible." Score.

The new puppy? Yeah, Rufus came to us with mange. Not the bad kind, but he was thoughtful enough to share it with Bunker. So, two trips to the vet, two skin treatments and one antibiotic later, Rufus now lives outside. Not just because of the itchies, but also because he mananged to squirt poop on my living room wall. Not sure how, but didn't want to risk finding out with another episode.

Ansley went swimming for the first time! The best part? Something happened with my SD card, and I lost all my pics of the inaguaral event. Ridiculous.

Life has hit an incredibly slow point at the office. As busy as the school year is, we all kinda start going crazy after one week of office time. Plus, I won't be getting off early, so Ansley will be with the sitter about three hours a day.

This is the summer of weddings and babies (well, that's more so the fall). We've made it to 2 weddings so far, and still have 2 to go. And, babies? 4. Three friends, and a sister-in-law. Time really is just flying by. Oh, and I've been married for 4 years. 4 WHOLE YEARS!

So, that's our life as of late. Nothing incredibly funny or sad to tell. We're looking forward to our vacation next month. Last year took us to Puerto Rico. This summer, we're staying close to home and spending a week in Ocean City, Maryland.

Sometimes, it feels like time just creeps by. When Ansley is fussy or just a handful, I find myself wishing away the few hours before bedtime, just so I can have some time to myself. But after I put her to bed, I find myself sneaking back into her room and I just stand there. I look into her crib, and just watch her sleep. It's those moments, when the tick of the clock seems to stop, that I take a deep breath. I breath in the soft scent of a freshly bathed babe, and sigh. Because even though it seems like nothing will steal that moment from us, I know that just a few hours will bring a new day. And, with that new day comes more milestones, more personality, and even less time as a baby.

She's growing up. Maybe I should glue my eyes open so I don't miss anything.

Moving Forward

I am not one to air my laundry in front of people, be it dirty or clean. But I finally feel like I'm making progress, and that needs to be celebrated.

To understand my excitement, you'll have to venture back with me to that time of swollen joy, aka: pregnancy.

Near the end of my pregnancy, actually, at my 34 week check-up, my blood pressure was a little high, and my right leg was swollen. My doctor decided he wanted to send me for an ultrasound on my leg to check for any potential clots since only one leg was swollen. He also wanted my blood pressure to be monitored, fearing that I may have been developing pre-e.

So, I was sent to the hospital, where my leg u/s checked out fine (it was actually a pretty cool experience overall, minus the whole being pantless while a reformed hippy, complete with his long locks, squeezed my leg for about an hour). I was then hooked up to a blood pressure cuff, told to get comfy, and settled in for 23 hours of monitoring.

My BP stayed elevated, and it wasn't a very restful evening, because every time I would hear the cuff begin to tighten, I also felt my heart start to race.

Anyhoo, after 23 hours of monitoring, I was given a prescription for BP, then sent home to rest. My water broke just three days later.

Well, my BP ended up staying "elevated" (you'll understand the quotes soon) even up to my 6 week pp appointment. So, I made myself an appointment with my family care doc to figure out what was going on.

As a pregnant woman herself, the doc felt that I had developed "white coat hypertension" during my pregnancy, in that I had a perfect pregnancy up to that point, and had explained the stress involved with the 23 hour observation. She suggested to monitor the BP at home, and let her know the results.

After a few good results, I was free! Or, so I thought. I got a high reading, and that's when I think my downward spiral started, or, at least came to the surface.

I totally freaked out. I started shaking, I couldn't concentrate and just kept thinking that something awful was going to happen and no one would know. I couldn't calm Ansley down, and in turn couldn't calm myslef. I ended up calling my dad over, at 9:30 p.m., to sit with me until the hubby got home from work.

And, it happened again, the next day. We were traveling two hours for a wedding, and I freaked out in the car. I couldn't sit still. I felt like my heart was racing and my throat was closing up. I needed room to stretch my legs, and felt trapped in the car. That night, I decided something had to be done.

After talking with a family friend, it was suggested that I see my family doctor regarding what she, as a NP, felt was an anxiety issue.

To make an already long story seem a little shorter, we realized that I had been struggling with anxiety for a while, and pregnancy only helped me realize it.

I can now say, that after 6 months on a low-dose SRI (seratonin re-uptake inhibitor), I've now been given the go ahead to come off of it! I've developed this sense of freedom. I no longer have to go through certain steps to calm myself, such as driving by my house whenever I hear a fire alarm, or checking five times to make sure I locked the doors, or pulling to the side of the road to make sure my tailpipe wasn't smashed in, leaking car exhaust into my vehicle which would kill me and my daughter.

I no longer have to go into her room every hour to make sure her chest is still rising and falling, and feel her face to make sure it is warm. I don't have to get sick to my stomach whenever it starts to rain in fear that a tornado will surely come and rip my house apart.

And, it feels good. It actually felt good to know that the high BP was a result of the anxiety that developed and my tendency to fixate on the problem. It feels good to know that there was actually more going on than mere lack of faith. And it feels good to know that I may have reprogramed my thought process.

For a while, I've known that I was much more than a worry wart, but felt ashamed admitting it, especially when Ansley came along.

I was worried that people would judge me, especially my friends who are very strong in their faith. I was worried that I was making it up, and it bothered me that I couldn't just "get over it" as people would tell me.

Will I come of the meds? I don't know. It is something that the hubs and I will have to talk long and hard about. But, I feel like we're moving in the right direction. I feel encouraged that this isn't simply a lack of faith, though one can never have to much of that. And, with each step I take, I am constantly reminded that I'm not in this alone.

As cheesy as it sounds, I feel like I'm kicking anxiety's booty. It wore me down for a little while, but I'm finally starting to figure out it's moves. Watch out, anxiety. Tiffany has got your number.