Ahhhhh I Lost My Mucus Plug!

Guys, I went to the OBGYN on Monday and my cervix was completely closed (not dilated) and LS was effaced 2-3. So, no action there.

The night before I projectile vomited so much and so hard that it washed like a tidal wave across the freaking *carpet* and splashed the wall. I can’t make this sh*t up. I had eaten brunch circa 2pm and it did not digest and I hurled it up about 9:30pm. I didn’t think much of it because that happened plenty of times with BG, but did mention it to the OB. I actually said “I don’t think it’s a blockage”.

But I was wrong–it was an intestinal blockage.

I figured this out because I hardly ate anything Monday (like 1/2 a GF cupcake) but I drank plenty. I took a nap with BG circa 1:30pm and woke up at 3pm, and realized *I had not emptied my ostomy bag since 5am that morning*. That’s bad, as I usually need to empty at least 2-3x by that point. I didn’t feel good, but I had no pain and other people say blockages are horribly painful (and I believe I’ve had partial blockages and they hurt) so I was perplexed. But the protocol is to go to the ER if you are having little-to-no output. I called my GI and my OBGYN, and both said I could skip the ER (because ER’s are dirty and dangerous) and go to maternity triage. I told them I would try to get things moving at home but if it didn’t work then I’d go in. I DID NOT want to go to the hospital–it’s 40+ minutes drive into the city and it was near rush hour, then it would be dark, and I’d have to drag Mr. MLACS and BG with me. F*ck that. And luckily, I started having some liquid output, but I knew it wasn’t over. I only managed a bowl of creamy tomato soup for dinner, and I was hungry. Tuesday I spent the day drinking carbonated drinks (sprite), hot liquids (mostly green tea with honey), putting heating pads on my belly, and walking (waddling) around the house while caring for BG. I felt awful mentally and physically–I was *hangry*.

Wednesday was a bit better, in that I found I could eat some solid low-residue food, like toast, and some creamy soup.

I helped with BG’s valentines day party at her preschool in the morning on Wednesday, but then left her there for lunch and “enrichment” while I went to go run errands. I had to go to the jewelers because I had ordered a white-gold band with LS’s name engraved inside, because my wedding rings are too tight now. I had ordered the same ring and had BG’s initials engraved inside at this same point in my pregnancy with her. Moreover, I took the opportunity to have my wedding rings re-dipped in platinum, and they came out *gorgeous*! Soooooo sparkly ❤ I wish I could wear them now! I highly recommend having your rings inspected, dipped, and cleaned periodically at the jewelers.

Then I treated myself to soup and a hazlenut coffee at Panera Bread. It was yummy! It took all my willpower not to eat the sourdough bread–it was so tempting–but good sense (not to eat gluten) prevailed. After I picked BG up from preschool, we came home to find two beautiful bouquets of flowers had been delivered, one for each of us, from Mr. MLACS ❤

Valentines day was a pretty chill day for me and BG, as it was not a preschool day. She also wasn’t feeling well. So we played, went to the grocery store, and came home and had a quiet afternoon. She was being very whiny and clingy, she felt a bit warm, and I could tell she was feeling poorly. She was awake at 5:00am and crying, so I gave her tylenol and figured I might need to keep her home from school.

She slept until almost 9:30am! I was awake by 8am and informed her teachers she’d be absent. I looked at her eyes and suspected pinkeye, and took her to the pediatrician. Indeed, BG has pinkeye and an ear infection in her left ear, poor kid! This is her first ear infection/first pinkeye and thusly her first time taking antibiotics. As a person with IBD who credits my disease in part due to frequent antibiotics as a kid, I’ve been very pleased she hasn’t had to take any for nearly 4 years. And I worry how it will affect her gut and what my best course of action is to re-balance her gut bacteria once she’s finished her course of antibiotics. And then of course she we also have to administer eye drops for her pinkeye, but her doc said it’s ok if she closes her eyes so that makes life much simpler.

The kicker though is that I felt a lot of wetness when I woke up and when I went to use the bathroom I discovered I had lost my mucus plug! Never would have expected that so soon, as it didn’t happen with BG until just before birth at 41w2d. I’m only 36w4d now. I’m not having contractions yet, so that’s good. But LS also noticeably dropped yesterday so…it appears I’ll give birth sooner than expected–I figured I’d be induced at 40 weeks. So naturally…

I planned BG’s 4th birthday party for March 2nd even though that is a couple weeks earlier than her actual bday. I should be 38w4d, so it seemed like a safe bet. I even found customizable invites on etsy and had them printed with the anticipated date. I started passing them out on Valentines day. I’ve ordered BG a themed shirt, decorations, balloons, gifts–the whole nine yards. And it’s sort of a “coming out” party for me with the moms of the kids we’re inviting. Mother nature is a b*tch for pulling this fast one, after all the time and money I’ve invested! And thusly I’ve decided the show must go on–even if me and LS cannot attend. But really I’m prepared to bring LS to the venue with me if we’re at all up for it, and just keep her away from people–is that a horrible idea? Bringing a less than 2 week old infant to a bounce place full of noisy kids and germs while I’m bleeding and trying to breastfeed? But I want to be there for BG! And I know plenty of other moms who would do it.

Today, my plan is to work on decluttering the house *and* a much anticipated trip to IKEA! There are no freaking Ikea’s in The South so I haven’t been to one in a couple years! I want to get BG a new table and chairs, and a storage unit for her art supplies in the playroom (currently in piles in boxes). And some throw pillows for her teepee. Can you tell I’m excited?!

XOXO,

MLACS

 

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35 Weeks, Settling In

Well, here we are. It’s been a crazy few weeks of 2019, as I’ve scrambled to get settled in our new home. There’s still so much I want to do before baby comes, but I am proud of all that I’ve accomplished.

Most importantly, I found BG a wonderful preschool! I did my research (which, FTR, I research everything) and found out what preschools are better than others in my area. I reached out and most of them are enrolling for *fall*. The only ones enrolling for spring were daycare centers–they were both expensive for part-time. One well-known chain was $660/mo for 12hrs/week. That works out to $13.75/hr, which I could almost pay a nanny for that amount. I went to tour the place and it was a zoo! Absolute chaos. Cramped. I don’t see how the toddlers could focus to learn anything with all the noise and distractions. Plus the director was a complete weirdo–a salesperson who looked like a doppledanger of Bette Middler in the movie “Hocus Pocus”. She lacked warmth and authenticity, and BG and I both cringed when she patted BG’s head. The teacher seemed nice and well-intentioned, but pulled in 100 different directions. I kick myself now, but I did consider this place even after the visit, just for BG to socialize. But my gut instinct was “hell no”.

We then visited another preschool under the guise of considering enrolling for fall. I fell in love with it the moment I saw it. And then I walked in, and I got all the “warm fuzzies”. The teachers are great. It’s small but they make excellent use of their space. The kids were well behaved and organized, some doing art projects in one room (and I’m not talking scribbles on paper–they were being taught a painting technique employed by a famous artist). In the large playroom another group was playing on a balance maze the teacher had set up. And in another room they were having show-and-tell. I could feel the authenticity and warmth. I told them I wished more than anything that BG could start there, because I wanted her there in the fall and I strongly disliked the chaos of the bigger centers. For her part, BG charmed the art teacher, and when she was offered a spot at the table she happily put on a smock to paint with the other kids without looking back at me. Aaaaand they offered her a spot to start NOW! I was so thrilled and relieved that I bawled when I got in the car, no joke. I will say, it has been challenging for BG. She was placed with “The 4’s”, all of whom turned 4 by September 1st. BG won’t be 4yrs until March, so she is the youngest in the class. She is the same size or bigger than the other kids though (I’m 5’9″ and her dad is 6’6″ so she’s destined to be tall). And she is very well mannered. So far the teachers say she has transitioned “seamlessly”. But I can tell that being in a group of older kids is mentally and physically far more taxing for her. It’s intimidating. But she is learning so much! Her language and communication skills have grown so much just in the last 3 weeks! I’m amazed.

But BG still needs speech therapy. She was evaluated in our previous state this fall and she qualified for services–she has difficulty making certain sounds and can be hard to understand (articulation). So I got her IEP and immediately upon our arrival to new state I began the process of getting her qualified for services here. I meet with the lady to sign off on her new IEP this week and then she can begin services. With her quick progress since starting preschool, I’m very encouraged that she will do well.

I also enrolled BG in a ballet class at a classical ballet school, where she is actually learning proper form and technique (but in a fun and age appropriate way). I adored her last dance teacher but that class was a sh*t show–it was worth it for the social aspect but she didn’t learn anything.

I enrolled BG in indoor soccer, but it’s a joke. They have practice in the basement of a church on a shiny tiled floor that makes it impossible to control the ball. It’s a 20min drive to get there and the “practice” is only about 40min. BG actually has a good foundation from her previous soccer league and I actually think this new league will cause her to regress–they suck that bad. So lesson learned, that was a waste of time and money. We’ll find a better league for spring.

We’ve been to our new local public library and BG has her own library card. We’ve been to storytime and craft at the local B&N. We’ve had a playdate. We’ve been invited to 3 birthday parties (attended 2 and one this weekend). I’ve planned BG’s 4th birthday at a bounce place, ordered custom invites off etsy and bought her presents–we are doing it 2 weeks early because I’m due just a few days before her actual bday. I’m volunteering at her school valentines day party next week. And we have bought tickets to take her to Disney on Ice and the movie “How to train your dragon 3”. I’ve gone to great lengths to create a healthy and fun new routine for BG, and I’m quite proud of what I’ve accomplished on her behalf these past few weeks. Also she has been clingy and moody, which is to be expected with all these changes, and I have given her all the compassion, patience, love and encouragement. Sometimes it’s easy and sometimes I have to pause and dig deep to meet her where she’s at–but I am proud to say I have. And our bond is very strong.

For Mr. MLACS’s part, this new job has been great for him mentally, physically and spiritually. He was truly miserable in his last position. But he seems to have hit his stride with his career and he is in a sweet spot with excellent mentors and peers. I am SO happy for him! In turn, he has been very thoughtful and loving towards me. He sent me my favorite flowers “for no reason”, has bought me all sorts of things to make my pregnancy and postpartum more comfortable, has started ordering grocery service to spare me the time and trouble, has addressed my “honey do” list (which is immense since we just moved), encourages me to take care of myself, tells me how beautiful I am, and has basically been a “dream husband”–I feel very loved and cared for, and couldn’t ask for more. Oh! And he had 2lbs of chocolate covered strawberries delivered from my favorite hometown candy shop! Food is my true love language lately. He only had one and I ate the rest. He also ordered BG rainbow roses to accompany a rainbow bear from build a bear–her first flowers–for valentine’s day ❤ This is in addition to two stuffed dragon characters he ordered from build a bear that we’ll surprise her with when we take her to the movie.

Mr. MLACS has also been taking great care of himself, cooking his healthy meals, packing his lunches, going to his doctors appointments, and he just started a program called “Diamond Dave’s yoga”–I’m impressed! I never thought I’d see the day that my husband would buy a yoga mat!

As far as my pregnancy goes, I found an OBGYN that I like. He and the MFM have given their blessing for me to have a vaginal birth. Baby is measuring healthy and she is moving around A LOT. She’s a freaking ninja! BG was way more chill en utero. One cool feature of my OB office is they have a drop-in playcare that is very secure and the ladies are great–BG had a fantastic time while I was at my last OBGYN visit! I have another one today. I believe he’ll check my cervix and effacement, which will suck but good info to have. I had braxton hicks last weekend and Mr. MLACS was almost convinced I was going into labor. They f*ing hurt and were coming every 10 min for about an hour, but stopped. I don’t feel ready for baby to come yet–I need to finish nesting. Last week BG and I had a cold and I was exhausted and felt like crap, so it was a maddeningly unproductive week. Plus preschool, ballet, soccer, etc. were canceled due to the freezing temps. My skin revolted and I had to go to the Dermatologist and get meds for blepharitis, rosacea, and peri-oral dermatitis. My whole face was bright red and painful. Luckily the meds worked, the headcold and the freezing temps abated, and I’m back in the game this week. I also had an EFT tapping session with my guru yesterday, which clears out negative emotions/blocks and gives me peace, clarity and energy. Icve been awake since 4:30am, no coffee, and I feel great.

I’ve written a book! More later on how I hired a sibling doula for when I give birth, how we narrowly avoided a disaster by moving, and other random sh*t.

XOXO,

MLACS

Happy New Year!

So Christmas was lovely but it seems like forever ago because SO much has happened between Christmas and New Years.

To rewind, Mr. MLACS flew into the  nearby city and we enjoyed a weekend of holiday fun there, including seeing The Nutcracker ballet (an annual tradition) and riding on The Polar Express train.

BG is at a *magical age* and she had started ballet/tap class in the fall. She LOVED The Nutcracker this year! I loved watching her watch the performance–she was riveted. We had balcony seats close to the stage and she loved being able to see the performance and the people in the audience below us. Mr. MLACS bought her a Clara dolly and a Rat King dolly and watching the two of them pretend to fight during intermission, hearing BG squeal and giggle, and feeling LS kicking in my belly is a moment I’ll never forget. BG looked so precious in her red and navy blue plaid dress, with her little pearl necklace–she looked like a real little lady. For the record, BG looooooves to dress up! Lives for dresses, bows, jewelry and “make ups” (which are lip balms). I wore a dress and make-up to The Nutcracker but I am generally a person who loves sweat pants, or for more formal occassions, jeans. I definitely did not spark her “extra-ness” because I am super low maintinence. But I do love to watch her shine ❤

The Polar Express train was really the best. BG was excited and bouncy! She was enthralled by the performances and the characters/actors invited her to participate several times. First, she got to help turn pages as a portion of The Polar Express book was read. Then, she got to be a reindeer–they placed an antler headband on her–and march down the aisle as we sang Rudolph the red nosed reindeer. But the most precious part, was when Santa stopped to say hello to her abd give her “the first bell of Christmas”. BG thought she was supposed to tell him her Christmas list, and she was so excited to see him she could barely get the words out, so I interpreted. She asked for “Toys for baby sister, toys for me, toys for Koa and Kitty, and toys for Mommy and Daddy”. She’s so sweet and thoughtful. And taking in her good intentions and her wide-eyed innocence, Santa turned to me and said “You’re very lucky”. And I know I don’t count my blessings on this blog very often because I mostly talk about the heavy stuff, but please know that I feel profoundly blessed/fortunate/lucky and that Santa didn’t have to remind me–but I was touched.

We returned home from our adventure on Christmas Eve and I was super sick with what seemed like the flu. I felt miserable. Luckily Mr. MLACS was feeling great and he got everything put together for Christmas morning–Santa brought BG a teepee playhouse and he got her a big-girl monogrammed chair and had a matching little-girl monogrammed chair for LS (since BG was adamant that baby sister needed gifts). Mr. MLACS and I each got each other one gift from ourselves + BG. It was sweet and funny because BG had watched a cartoon (Arthur?) and the kid was REALLY excited to buy his Mom a glass bird. So BG had decided I needed a glass bird, and Mr. MLACS went to great lengths to find and purchase a glass bird. I love it because it really shows how much we all love each other. BG and I gave Mr. MLACS cologne, which is what we always gave my Dad for Christmas when I was little, and it’s weird to be “the parent” now.

BG had some unwrapped presents and a stocking from Santa, and then 9 wrapped gifts under the tree, 4 of which were from my sister and the rest from us. I know she had a wonderful Christmas and that she got plenty of great gifts. But I cannot seem to shake feeling guilty that she isn’t showered by presents and attention from our extended family. I want Christmas to be special because we spend time together and make great memories, and not because of how many presents are under the tree. I genuinely feel that we–that our precious children–are better off without toxic family members in our lives (and that includes keeping my sister at arms length, although she does have a relationship with BG). But the holidays stir up my feelings and make me wish things were different–and I second guess myself. I miss my good old friends and wish we lived closer–it would be easier to accept the severed ties with our relatives if we had “framily” to spend holidays with. But all our friends are spread out and we move too much to really create a “village”.

I had a village though, in the town we just moved from. I didn’t fully realize how much some of my girlfriends cared for me until I had to say goodbye. And I felt sad to lose them, and bad for “abandoning” them since they were clearly more invested in our friendships than I thought.

The movers came to pack on Dec. 27th, they loaded on Dec. 28th, and on Dec. 29th we bid farewell to our dream home, and all the craziness of the past 2 years. Mr. MLACS and I shed some tears for what was and for what might have been. And then we journeyed for 3 days, and celebrated NYE in our new town.

Let me close by saying 2018 was a legit roller coaster of a year, with huge ups-and-downs. I worked hard to regain my health and fitness, while navigating life as a fledgling ostomate–I did it! I even put myself out there and became the leader of a fit moms club, got my friends involved, and met new people. I dealt with my Father’s death, my Maternal Grandmother’s death, and the absolutely maddening struggle with my sister over managing our trust. I started my own LLC and did grown-up stuff like creating my own will & trust and purchasing burial plots for myself and Mr. MLACS. I paid a lot of bills. We took a beautiful trip to Hawaii. I dealt with the constant fear of losing Mr. MLACS and dealing with his health scares. I did lots of stuff with BG and she started preschool and dance classes in the fall. We sold our house, and we moved a 17+hr drive North of where we lived. I’d say the most amazing and insane plot-twist of 2018 was we got pregnant quickly and without fertility treatments–now I’m 30 weeks pregnant with a healthy baby girl.

2018 was very trying, but I really feel like every bit of it was filled with purpose.

I wouldn’t change a thing.

XOXO,

MLACS

27w5d (And moving house)

Guys…

I’ve wanted to blog but just haven’t been able to self-actualize because I’ve been anxious and overwhelmed with all that’s going on.

Putting a house on the market and showing it *while you live there with a messy husband, a toddler, and 2 pets* SUCKS. We had to make it look staged, like nobody lives here. There is a loooong list of things we did to achieve this, such as removing everything from the kitchen counters (including my beloved keurig and the kitchenaid mixer), making the beds perfectly, putting away handsoap and toothbrushes (and anything on the bathroom counters, like my beauty products), and I was placing the cat’s litter box in the garage for showings and trying to make the laundry room look and smell good (this involved hiding the piles of laundry that usually pile up in the laundry room). I managed to make the house look like a dream–with cooperation from Mr. MLACS (recall, he was not cooperative to begin with). I have actually really enjoyed living in an immaculately clean, clutter-free house! Albeit, it’s a PIA to keep it up. And the master closet and the garage are *horrible* as this is where we stash and stuff all the crap we need to hide, but can’t seem to part with (I would part with it but I need time and energy to deal with it).

We put our house on the market and the first people who saw it made us an offer that we accepted, but it was *contingent* upon them selling their house. The market is slooooow here and according to our agent their house was WAY overpriced, so I wasn’t holding my breath that this deal would work out. We waited for more offers to roll in…

They didn’t.

But the people who initially fell in love with the house eventually agreed to drop the contingency this week, since their house isn’t selling. We were supposed to close Jan. 2nd, but they pushed it back to Feb. 2nd, which is fine. The house is sold! And I can keep my keurig on the counter again because I don’t have to worry about showings. I can leave dirty dishes in the sink and toys strewn all over the playroom. I am so grateful that we got the price we wanted and that we no longer have to pretend like we don’t live here, especially during the holidays.

Mr. MLACS had to depart for the new job up north on November 28th, so he has been gone for 18 days already.

It has been HARD at times, without him. I have felt very alone at times, because most of my “friends” here are people I have to keep up with and since I haven’t reached out much and they know I’m moving, I’m off their radar. Which I don’t begrudge them, because that’s just how it goes. But I haven’tt had much adult interaction with Mr. MLACS gone and thusly I feel like an island, adrift.

And thusly, my perinatal anxiety and depression hit FULL FORCE about a week after he left. I felt paranoid and anxious and angry–SO angry.

And besides “holding down the fort” while Mr. MLACS is gone, I’ve had to do all the research to find new doctors up north, which is VERY stressful because we need specialists and I am always on a mission to find the best of the best. Then I had to make phone calls to new doctors, phone calls to old doctors, medical records, etc. etc. While dealing with a needy toddler who misses her dad, and managing my own business.

Oh Good grief, and finding a place to live was also my task and it was made incredibly complicated by the facts that:

1. Mr. MLACS recently (and unbeknownst to me) defaulted on his federal student loans. I was SO angry because I am always on him to stay in good standing. He dropped the ball. So *after* I did a lot of work finding a realtor and working with a lender, I learned Mr. MLACS cannot qualify for any sort of loandue to his loan default and crap credit. I paid a bunch of collection accounts for him with my own money. I was (and still sort of am) PISSED that he was so irresponsible and he wasted my time and made me look like a fool to the real estate agent and lender.

2. So we decided we’ll take equity from the house when we sell it and just pay off his student loans. And we’ll rent for 6 months and then buy in the spring. Yes, I am *salty* that I have to move TWICE, once 7 months pregnant and then again with a newborn. But ok, I found a house. We applied. The guy comes back and says “Can you explain this eviction in 2016?” And I’m like “Pardon? You must have us confused with someone else because we have never been evicted.” But lo and behold, Mr. MLACS co-signed a lease in 2008 for his (now estranged since 2015) mother. And for no apparent reason, she was evicted in 2016 and Mr. MLACS has a judgement on his record, even though he declined to sign a renewal lease in 2009. We both think this was foul play on his mother’s part and the rental company, and we have our lawyer working on it. But meanwhile, it was humiliating for me to have to explain how my husband makes great money but apparently sucks at adulting so his credit is poor and he has an eviction on his record due to trying to help his sh*tty mother out (she took full advantage of him his entire life before I met him and I hate her for using her son–like how can you do that to your kid? I couldn’t). I finally found a place that would overlook all that, provided we did a double deposit.

And *guess who* has had to bankroll this move? ME. I shelled out $800 for Mr. MLACS to get new tires. $6500 for deposit/1st months rent. And I’ve had to buy all the groceries/gas/etc. since he left. While alone, 6+ months pregnant, caring for a toddler, and handling every detail of this move.

I don’t know if I’m allowed to feel resentful (because marriage is not always 50/50) but I do. Mr. MLACS has begrudgingly thanked me but has generally glossed over my contributions. Particularly the parts where I had to hustle because of his mistakes. He’s pretty much like “Sorry. What else do you wantbfrom me? I said sorry” But he doesn’t really mean it. If roles were reversed, he would be (and has been) totally degrading to me. But he clearly doesn’t hold himself to the same standards. And part of the reason why I haven’t picked a fight about it is because I worry about stressing him out because of his heart condition. And I resent having to worry about that too.

Oh and Christmas–I’ve done all of the Christmas shopping *and* paid for it all. I’ve bought things for the new baby. See, I have never minded doing all the work to create our life and our home because he has always been contributing the money. But now I’m doing all the work and paying for everything and he seems very comfortable with that but I AM NOT.

After this move I’m done using my inheritance to subsidize everything. I’m taking a break to evaluate my financial situation and figure out how to be smart with my money and what I can reasonably spend on our family. Mr. MLACS doesn’t want to give me any time or space, but it’s ultimately not his decision. I’ve been through A LOT these past couple of years, with his health crisis, my health crisis, deaths in my family, his sh*tty job here and now we are moving and I’m expecting a new baby. If he doesn’t show me the compassion and support me the way that I have showed him compassion and supported him, then I’m OUT.

Despite all this drama and bullsh*t, I am trying to enjoy the holidays with my kid. I adore the glow of the Christmas tree at night. I hosted a gingerbread house party for my favorite neighbor moms and kids. I planned (and *paid for*) a weekend of Christmas events when Mr. MLACS gets home for the holidays–we’ll see The Nutcracker ballet, ride the Polar Express train in our jammies, and see spectacular Christmas lights.

It’s my 39th birthday this weekend. And I bought myself a gluten-free cake from the frozen section at Whole Foods yesterday, so I can celebrate with BG. Mr. MLACS is really horrible about my birthday, in that he never surprises me or plans anything–not even a cake–without my input and effort. He just pays for things. For his part, Mr. MLACS did send me flowers yesterday and that helped soothe some of my resentment. He also bought me some La Mer beauty products but that was pretty lackluster because he ordered it because I told him about cyber Monday specials and was like “It’ll be here on Thursday”. Again, when he was our sole source of income I cut him a lot of slack and never minded too much when he didn’t make a big effort for my gifts. But at this point I would really appreciate it if he made more effort–I need more TLC, particularly since I’m pregnant. Just to show him how it feels, he had sent me a link to a pair of shoes he wants/needs that I had offered to buy for him as a gift, and I said exactly what he always says to me “There’s money in the account”.

XOXO,

MLACS

 

24 Weeks (With an Ileostomy)

As every IF and RPL lady knows, reaching 24 weeks pregnant is a milestone to celebrate because at this point your baby has a real chance at survival if you were to go into premature labor. Like your baby would a micro-preemie and would spend a solid 20+ weeks in the NICU–but at least they’d have a chance.

So I’m marking this occasion with my little LS. She is still kicking away in there! I have an anterior placenta (same as with BG) so I don’t feel her in the front very much, but often on my left side or the bottom of my pelvis. As I recall, BG was more chill than LS and I didn’t feel her moving as often. I do wonder if it’s because I drink 1 cup of coffee a day during this pregnancy and I only rarely had coffee with BG. But my heart tells me that LS is going to be more hyper and intense than BG, regardless of how much coffee I drink.

BG is such an easy and pleasant child, and I’m pretty sure the laws of the universe state that you don’t get two pleasant and easy kids in a row. I try to think on the bright side, that a kid who is challenging and pushes you out of your comfort zone can be awesome–that was me, always pushing my parents to see my point of view and get excited about new things (and being frustrated when they didn’t get it). I do hope I’m able to successfully cultivate two very different kids, if that is the case. My sister and I are very different and my own parents did not do a great job of meeting our individual needs and harmonizing us as a family despite our differences. I want to do better for my own kids.

BG is quite excited to meet LS and will put her face close to my belly and say “Hi baby! It’s your big sister! I love you!” And kiss my belly. Does it get any sweeter than that?! I think not. When looking at toys for Christmas, BG has already picked out some things she thinks LS should have, so I figure I’ll throw a few gifts for LS under the tree, even though it feels kind of silly…and a little scary… With all the loss I have experienced, I am naturally afraid of losing LS and I have the f*cked up but very common fear that if I start feeling and acting overly confident, the universe will take her to teach me a lesson. Logically I know that’s not how it works, but emotions are not logical.

I feel like I need to write an update about BG, but for now let me just put on the record that I love this kid with my heart and soul and I think she is an amazing little human and a gift to the world. She is such a loveable little kid, and I tell her every day that she’s a great kid and that I’m so lucky to be her mom ❤20181116_103728_Film1 XOXO,

MLACS

Ridiculous

Guys, it’s been a roller coaster. So, bullet points:

  • Mr. MLACS saw the Cardiologist after his “episode” and Cardiologist surprised him by saying he is now a good candidate for the ablasion surgery!
  • Mr. MLACS has lost over 100lbs this year, but still needs to lose 57lbs to get under 40% BMI for his height, so we thought he was disqualified from any procedures until he lost more weight. *side note: the BMI chart is stupid*
  • Mr. MLACS accepted a job up North, so we are moving. He HATES his job here and his old company made him a good offer, and we decided to go for it.
  • After Cardiologist said ablasion surgery was a “go” pending his discussion with his colleague, Mr. MLACS decided he wanted to do it before we move up North. He was SO excited at the prospect!
  • Mr. MLACS became panicked from stress at his current job and the stress of waiting for the *official* job offer. He was having heart palpitations and said it was similar to what was happening prior to his last “episode” (defibrillation). So I packed up my kid in her jammies and my pregnant self and took him to the ER at 8pm on a Wednesday in monsoon rains. They said he’s fine. I asked him to work from home for the next 2 days so he could calm down.
  • Friday we saw Cardiologist again, anticipating scheduling the ablasion…
  • Cardiologist says his colleague reviewed his case and said he’s not a candidate for ablasion surgery. Ever. Due to what happened during his initial cardiac arrest.
  • So the Cardiologist has been pushing Mr. MLACS to lose weight for this ablasion for *a year*, never bothered to consult about it, and then CRUSHES Mr. MLACS by telling him it’s not even an option.
  • Oh and instead, Cardiologist puts him on a new med (Amitriptyline)  with serious potential side effects to help his arrythmias.
  • And *then* Cardiologist says “You really must lose that 57lbs because the way you are going you are going to need something (like an LVAT) before you’re 50. Even though none of your tests show no abnormalities, the fact that you’re being defibrillated every 6 months indicates there is something wrong.”
  • Mr. MLACS starts crying while I sit there numb, in disbelief. And Cardiologist backpedals trying to make it seem not so bad.
  • I try to comfort Mr. MLACS after we leave. But it’s hard because it does not feel like things are going to be ok. Ever.
  • I bottle it up and morbid anxiety-induced visions of the future plague me for the next several days. Visions of my little girls grieving because he dies, because they find him dead or he dies right in front of them, or of him becoming disabled/incapacitated.
  • I throw myself into trying to figure out this move. It’s overwhelming.
  • After I found a house I like, it is revealed that we cannot buy a house because Mr. MLACS’s federal student loans are in default–he didn’t even know and I found out from a mortage broker. I’m livid because I’ve been checking with him periodically and emphasizing that he MUST keep them in good standing or they can and will garnish his wages and it will ruin his credit. He blew me off and also never bothered to check his credit report. I hate being right sometimes.
  • So then he tells me his choices are to pay $1100/mo for 9 months to get the loans out of default/collections (and I assume keep paying $1100/mo) *or* pay $50k in a lump sum.
  • I don’t want to bring my baby home to a rental house in March. I don’t want to move again. I’m f*cking exhausted at the thought of it. I don’t want to “waste” money on rent.
  • I have the money from my inheritance, but my own federal student loans are in default. Why should I pledge my/our nest egg for his mistake? True, he gave me $333/mo for 5 years to pay off $21k private student loans while I was a SAHM…and he was a total dick about it. He yelled at me “Well I paid your loans!” But what he’s asking is not fair or equal. And the fact that he is demanding it when he made me grovel is the definition of irony.
  • I am really sick of him. Sick of worrying about his heart because he ignored my pleas for him to quit smoking and lose weight and now the damage is done. Sick of him acting like I should use my finite inheritance money as income. Sick that he thinks he’s entitled to it for his student loan f*ck up–this hypocrite lectures me any time I spend too much at Target. Sick that I have to move out of my dream house and drive my 7 months pregnant ass and my kids north for 3-4 days *through the snow in January* to live in a rental home, so Mr. MLACS can have a job he likes–but there’s only a 2-3 year contract so if he stays with the company we have to move again. And again. And again. Or settle somewhere without him. I’m sick that even though he’ll be making $2k more per month he tried to tell me I had to pay $1100/mo for his student loans. And this is in addition to A LOT of other stuff I’ve been paying for, like preschool and dance classes and clothes and lawncare and date nights and all my bills–this is from my inheritance money, I don’t work outside the home. I’ve vowed not to use any of the rental income as personal income for awhile (it stays in the business account) because it’s not consistent and I need to invest in repairs b/c some of the houses are in shambles. But all of a sudden he treats me like a bank. My Dad died. My Grandma died. And even though he’s been supporting us for years he is acting broke.
  • I wish I didn’t have this money (well actually I *do* appreciate being financially secure) because Mr. MLACS is greedy about money–it has always been a thing with him. And me getting this inheritance makes him act like Ebineezer Scrooge, whereas we were in a good place before that.. after years of him being a dick about it, berating and degrading me when finances got tight even though it was NEVER because *I* was financially irresponsible.
  • And now he has f*cked up financially BIG time several times this year alone, and he expects me to dismiss it, without him taking full accountabilty, offering sincere apologies, or giving an explanation of how he intends to do better. Nope, he just wants to sweep it under the rug.
  • Oh and then use my inheritance to fix it because I’m over here “freeloading” as a wife and mother.
  • I found a house to rent up North, since we can’t buy, and I had us fill out credit and background checks last night. This morning I get a call from prospective landlord asking to explain *the 2016 eviction*. I’m like “You must be mistaken”. But no, apparently Mr. MLACS cosigned a lease for his mother before he met me…we have been estranged from her since BG was born nearly 4 years ago. She’s a horrible person and Mr. MLACS was the family scapegoat. Well, now we have to get a lawyer to fight *her* eviction on his record. I explained everything to potential landlord and gave proof that we were not living in that state and in fact have an excellent reference ftom the property management company we were *actually* renting from. But it’s a mess.
  • I own several rental properties and I have money, but I can’t buy a f*cking house. Now I can’t even rent one. This is ridiculous.
  • Did I mention BG has been sick for the last several days and I haven’t gotten any sleep and she is needy and whiney and wants to be on me like velcro 24/7? I have no space to think or breathe. I am low on energy. And then today I’m having back spasms and my uterus felt tight.
  • I called Mr. MLACS crying and I found it insulting when he asked what’s wrong…EVERYTHING is wrong and he KNOWS it. He told me to take it easy.
  • I asked Mr. MLACS to help me get the house ready because the listing agent is coming over tomorrow.  He yelled and berated me for every little thing, like that I hadn’t unloaded the dishwasher. He was insufferable. I finally turned around and said “FINE! I’m not selling this house, I’m staying! I don’t even want to move at this point! So do the dishes, don’t do the dishes, I don’t f*cking CARE! YOU go work up north. I’ve dealt with a metric ton of your bullsh*t this week and I’m DONE!” He says “Well you’ll have to explain that to her (BG)”…and I’m thinking…you probably won’t live to see her graduate highschool so she may as well get used to not having you around…but I didn’t say that.
  • Mr. MLACS is a great dad. And he loves me. But he needs so much f*cking therapy. When he gets stressed or feels threatened (or when there’s money involved) he turns into a monumental dickhead. He’s *my* dickhead. But I f*cking hate him when he’s like that. And I hate it when I have to sink to his level to deal with him–there is no progress with taking “the high road”.
  • After declaring that I was done trying to tidy the house because IDGAF if goes on the market, I went and laid down on a heating pad and left him to do (or not do) the chores.
  • He did them.
  • Why’s it always gotta be like this? With all the drama. We are a magnet for drama.

XOXO,

MLACS

A Mixed Bag

So I should probably start with an update from my last post–I celebrated my one-year stomaversary on October 17th. I did not get a cake, but we were on “vacation” in my midwestern  hometown so we could enjoy fall weather (since it’s still hot in the south) and so I could handle some business with my parents’ estate/my inheritance. We enjoyed ourselves–I caught up with my old friends, and BG played with their kids and had a ball. We took our labrador and he enjoyed going to “puppy camp” (doggy daycare) a couple times and every morning we’d bring him scrambled eggs from breakfast (we stayed at a Staybridge Suites hotel as it allows pets and it provided breakfast, which was delicious). I enjoyed going to my old favorite restaurants to get yummy gluten-free specialties. And really, we’d love to move back there at some point because it’s a lovely town.

But there was some bad stuff too.

At the 9th hour of our 13 hour drive, I received word that my dear girlfriend had passed away of complications with her cancer. I knew she was terminal, but she had been just fine the day before and no one expected this. I was heartbroken that I didn’t get to see her one last time. I did join her husband and some friends to celebrate her life, but they were all drunk and disorderly (which is why I love them) and I had Mr. MLACS and BG with me so we didn’t stay long, as they were heading towards a collective breakdown. I didn’t make it to her official memorial and I know some of the crew found that offensive. But funerals are for the living. Jen knew I loved her. And I reached out to her husband to support him. I cried for her–she was a beautiful person.

Then, my sister was (as per usual) a giant passive-aggressive, manipulative pain-in-the-ass. She never misses an opportunity to make my life difficult and piss me off, then play the victim when I call her on her sh*t. She likes feeling like she has some power over me. It’s pathetic. And I’m sure our estate lawyer needed a drink after dealing with our quarrels last week–he will be so glad to be rid of us. I don’t envy him. We have one item left in the trust and then it will be dissolved and we won’t have to “work together” anymore as co-trustees.

And then, we took a 2hr trip to a nearby city to do fun stuff with BG in the afternoon and have dinner with a dear friend in the evening. But while we were riding the train at the zoo…

Mr. MLACS was shocked by his defibrillator.

He was sitting in the seat in front of me so I didn’t see his face, but I heard a loud crack and saw him fly back in his seat–I knew instantly that he’d been shocked…but I thought it was static electricity or a loose wire on the train…it didn’t even occur to me it was his ICD (pacemaker/defibrillator device implanted on his heart). He was in shock but he didn’t lose consciousness. I figured out what had happened and a wave of panic started in the pit of my stomach but BG was right next to me so I couldn’t react. I stayed eerily calm (which is how I am in these situations–I become automated). No one else knew anything was wrong and since Mr. MLACS was conscious I didn’t feel the need to call for help–I mean what could anyone do? I didn’t know what to do–the cardiologist never gave me any instructions.

So I sat there in shock, rubbing his back until we got off the train. Mr. MLACS was not feeling well but he could walk. We had promised BG to get her something at the gift shop and it was about to close so we ran in there and suddenly I knew I had to call his cardiologist and figure out what to do next. So I did that, and they said take him to an emergency room to be looked at. And I had to make a choice–go directly to an ER in the city *or* drive the 2hrs back to my hometown where the hospital has his previous records from his initial heart failure and drop him at the ER and take BG back to the hotel (because ER’s are no place for children or pregnant women). So I chose option 2 and just tried to stay calm. Mr. MLACS was floored. And blaming himself–asking “What did I do wrong?” It was heartbreaking.

So luckily BG fell asleep on the ride and I didnt have to explain why we were dropping Mr. MLACS at the hospital. While he got checked out, I started googling…and now I am PISSED at his cardiologist. Because *this guy* acted like the goal was for Mr. MLACS not yo have any more episodes. But from what I read, even the youngest and healthiest individuals with an ICD are shocked *1-2 times per year on average*. Mr. MLACS has been shocked twice this year, and both times we thought it was a crisis situation and that it wasn’t supposed to happen and I blamed myself–maybe he is too stressed and he needs less expectations and responsibilities, while Mr. MLACS agonizes over what he did wrong.

But the truth is, that his heart randomly malfunctions. The ER found nothing in his bloodwork. Nothing in his EKG. Nothing in his x-ray. His heartrate was perfectly normal (he was sitting peacefully on the train) and for no apparent reason he went into V-fib (a dangerous arrythmia). His heartrate went from 60bpm to 324bpm in an instant, his ICD device shocked him once on the lowest setting, and his heartrate returned to 60bpm as if nothing had even happened.

There was nothing we could do to prevent it. There is nothing we can do to stop it from happening again at this point. Mr. MLACS is dilligently losing weight so he can qualify for a surgery that will try to pinpoint the part of his heart that malfunctions to cause the arrythmia and have it ablazed (burnt so it quits wreaking havoc). But there are no guarantees.

I take solace in statistics–he is statistically likely to survive 10 more years. He could live decades–he’s young and most of the people with ICD’s are 60+ years old, so they skew the statistics. But I hate that we have to live in fear of the next “episode”. I hate how much pain/frustration/anxiety/guilt it causes Mr. MLACS. I hate that I need to teach BG how to dial 911 as soon as possible. I hate that I worry when he is alone with her or when he puts her on his shoulders–that she could be traumatized by witnessing an event or hurt because he fell while carrying her. I hate that I worry about Mr. MLACS driving and that I really don’t want him driving our girls–could I ever forgive myself if I allowed it and something happened to my babies while he was driving?

This is a heavy burden. All this fear.

But we have to keep living. We can’t let fear dictate our lives. Yes, we have to be dilligent and cautious, but we don’t have to be consumed by fear.

So I exhale and keep going.

XOXO,

MLACS