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

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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

 

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

It’s A Miracle!

Mr. MLACS finally started to sound like himself on Wednesday of this week, exactly one week after his SCA. His short-term memory is still recovering but he is otherwise the man I married.

He had a defibrillator implanted yesterday (Thursday) and did well, now he just can’t lift his left arm past shoulder height for 6 weeks.

I took BG to see him in the hospital on Wednesday and we brought him home today!

I brought super fancy donuts for all the nurses in the ICU and on the regular floor, to thank them.

But I didn’t get any donuts for us.

I have a good friend who is a fitness consultant to the military. She’s amazing. She made a nutrition plan for Mr. MLACS.

Now I’m trying to get myself ready for my surgery on Tuesday Oct. 17th.

I’ve got to get this colon out, I cannot take it any longer. I’m literally sitting on the toilet right now muffling screams, it hurts so bad. And the Prednisone is driving me nuts, I’ve got to get off of it.

I almost had to go to the ER this week because I spiked a fever of 102.3 on Tuesday evening and since I’m on prednisone I’m supposed to go whenever I have a fever and/or feel particularly bad. But I was so exhausted from being at the hospital already, that I begged the on-call GI to let me wait until morning and see if my fever would break, which it did. But I have felt weak ever since. And my incontinence is worse–I’m back to wearing depends 24/7, even at home when I’m 5 feet from the toilet. If I could rip my colon out myself, I would.

So please continue to pray for our family, that Mr. MLACS makes a full recovery and that my colectomy goes smoothly, without any complications, and that I heal quickly afterwards without complications.

XOXO,

MLACS

The Aftermath: Traumatic Brain Injury

I am grieving right now, because Mr. MLACS has come so far…but he is not himself at all. And nobody can say how much he’ll recover or how long this might take.

His voice is different. It’s weak and soft and I don’t recognize it.

His personality is flat. Like he’s stoned, but he’s not on any mind-altering drugs anymore.

His facial expressions are odd. He has this smirk/smile that he does at inappropriate times and it creeps me out.

He remembers A LOT, which is good–his long-term memory is quite good.

But his short term memory is very bad.

And he is delusional.

He imagines things happened that truly didn’t or sees things that aren’t there (ordinary things like he thought his tablet was on the table).

I gave him his cell phone last night and he hasn’t texted or called. When I go see him he doesn’t ask me how BG is or what she’s up to–but he says he does want to get home to her…

But I can’t imagine him being home like this.

I can’t handle it.

It scares me to death.

I can’t have him around BG like this. If I’m freaked out by the changes in him, I can only imagine what it would be like for a little girl.

And I can’t trust him.

So far he’s shown no aggression or sexual inappropriateness but I worry. I can’t help it.

I won’t leave him alone with her. I can’t.

I don’t want him driving anytime soon if ever, and I can’t let him drive her because what if this happens again?

I feel like his death is imminent. I am scarred and have PTSD from his heart failure in 2014 and now this apparent heart attack (though docs are not sure if it was a heart attack, as his heart went into v-tach and then v-fib).

I want to run away because I can’t take this anymore. I want to protect our daughter and shield her from this pain and future pain. It’s her pain that kills me–she doesn’t understand why her daddy is gone. And also she is out of her element because…

We just moved into this new house two weeks ago. It is big and feels foreign to me. It’s full of bad memories, of the fire that happened and now this. I hate this house. I want out. I want to move back home to the Midwest.

You know we just moved to the South a year ago in September. I’m not comfortable here.

I need comfort and familiarity. People here have been very nice and reached out to help but they are either aquaintances or strangers to me. I’ve never gotten used to living here–really the trauma of the house fire, me being sick, and Mr. MLACS’s job being so demanding has kept me from liking it here. It’s also very conservative and that makes me uncomfortable as well.

But Mr. MLACS is the sole breadwinner. His job is here. They will make acommodations for him. He has benefits–including life insurance that I would desperately need when he dies, and he is not elligible for private commercial life insurance, for obvious reasons. So to move, he’d really need to get a different job in order to keep his benefits.

Or, he could end up on permanent disability. I doubt that though, because his functioning seems very high–for someone who died 5 days ago.

People tell me to be patient, he will get better (though how much better is a mystery) and don’t think too far ahead…

Seriously, that is the worst advice. I mean I appreciate their faith and optimism but I need to re-route my family’s future and that starts NOW.

So many things to worry about.

I need to have my surgery so I can feel better and have the stamina to deal with all of this. Then…

I need to figure out what to do–go back to school for nursing? Become a real estate agent? I want to be self-sufficient.

Sell all BG’s baby stuff because it’s just impossible to even consider another pregnancy and child under these circumstances? This makes me want a sibling for her even more–someone to weather these times with her…

My sister is currently here caring for BG so I can go to the hospital and be with Mr. MLACS. It’s not perfect–she smokes cigarettes and I hate having that around BG. Also she is messy and I am currently very anxious and OCD. But I’m so grateful she came to be with us. And my aunt and uncle are coming when my sister leaves sometime this week. I have not spoken to Mr. MLACS’s mother or sister and do not intend to involve them, as we have not been in contact for 2+ years and I do not want them involved with BG. I did speak to Mr. MLACS’s brother though and I dont know when but he said he plans to come see him.

There’s more but to summarize, I’m in a very fucked up situation. But it’s going to be ok–I’m going to take care of myself because I have to and make sure BG has a magical childhood no matter what. I’m going to do right by Mr. MLACS but BG comes first and he would agree. I love him and he loves me, but she is our world.

I am doing my best. That’s all I can do.

XOXO,

MLACS

 

 

September 27th, The Day I Legally Wedded Mr. MLACS Because I Needed Health Insurance

On this day, 6 years ago, I married Mr. MLACS in a very awkward wedding ceremony at a court house in a small town in the BFE. Now for the record, Mr. MLACS had already proposed in June and we had planned a spring wedding. But I was having a UC flare that wasn’t responding well to steroids, so my GI at the time was suggesting Remicade–and I had no health insurance due to working non-traditional jobs and having a pre-existing condition (UC). Remicade infusions were like $20,000. And Mr. MLACS had very good health insurance through his employer. So without any real planning or fanfare, we just did it. And then had a celebratory dinner at some chain restaurant. It felt kind of twilight-zone-esque.

We told only our parents, as I was determined that my disease would not ruin our “real wedding” in Hawaii. We mostly ignored that we were technically married. But it added a calm to our relationship, knowing we were officially stuck with each other.

We had our dream wedding in Hawaii in spring 2012 and I didn’t end up needing Remicade until a year later. And then it stopped working pretty quickly so I only had maybe 3 infusions.

Fast forward to present-day…

Yesterday was our “marriage anniversary”. And here I am, sick as a dog because I have the freaking flu on top of my flare getting worse again because I lowered my Prednisone to 20mg and the Stelara shot is wearing off.

I had called my IBD Specialist the day before to inform them that I am ready for surgery.

Yep, it’s happening.

I’m having a (most likely permanent) ileostomy in the near future. Will see IBD Specialist and my CRS on Monday and schedule the surgery.

I just can’t go on like this. Or if I can, then I don’t want to.

I’m sort of freaking out but Mr. MLACS has been cool as a cucumber, as though he is unphased. At first I wanted a more emotional reaction from him, I mean, this is a BIG deal. But now I’m ok with Mr. MLACS remaining neutral because then I can be a basket case knowing he can handle everything.

So here we are, 6 years of marriage and 7 years of being together, and I’m having my colon removed. I actually did not see this coming. But it’s ok. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

XOXO,
MLACS

Daring To Dream

To recap my last post:

  1. I had the Stelara infusion a week ago and it is working–no blood in my stools and I feel better all-around.
  2. I’ve gained 10 lbs and lost a lot of hair since I started taking 6MP (mercaptopurine) a few weeks ago.

Well, I spoke to the IBD Specialist’s Nurse Practitioner via email (patient portal–so convenient) and she told me to go ahead and quit the 6MP. So I have not taken it the last 2 days and so far, so good–no blood.

Speaking of blood though, I am having my first *real* period in 6 months–it’s very heavy but not painful, just uncomfortable. It’s a good thing though, because it means my body has healed enough that it is willing to consider getting pregnant.

I was cleaning the guest bathroom yesterday and stumbled across some brown paper bags of medication, and I knew they were mine not Mr. MLACS’s, but I had to stop and think of what it was…??

And it stung me like a bee–it’s Crinone (progesterone to support a pregnancy). The Crinone I had bought and paid for back in December after I met my new OBGYN and expressed to him my desire to start TTC (trying to conceive) again. Just before all hell broke loose with my UC-turned-Crohn’s. I shelled out $300+ for this stuff, and I wonder if I will ever get to use it.

Mr. MLACS has been very flirty with me lately, and instead of feeling “blah” about it, I have felt more interested. I got a babysitter and we went on our…2nd?…date, just him and me, since BG was born (28 months ago). We went out to eat at a fun Caribbean-style restaurant–I even had half a glass of wine! I had been thinking about having a glass of wine and I finally felt good enough to try it, and I was tipsy but my liver appears to be worse for the wear. We talked about having a second baby, and we are both ready to try (Mr. MLACS is most def ready to resume our sex life).

We are actually in a much better position to TTC *now* than we were before I became ill. Before I became ill, we had no idea how we were going to get our (burnt to a crisp) dream home repaired. Our marriage was strained from the stress of moving to a place where we knew no one, our house burned down as soon as we signed the contract, and Mr. MLACS’s job was grinding him to the bone, leaving me alone with BG and to do ALL the things by myself. We were miserable. And *then* I got sick and that was the “stick that broke the camel’s back”. Things had to change, there was no trudging on the way we had been. I couldn’t. And at first everything got much, much worse. But when you hit rock bottom, the only place to go is up… So things have been steadily improving. Most importantly, our trials have made our marriage stronger. Well that, and I am not afraid of being unable to parent BG through a pregnancy and another baby, because I managed to do it through my illness. Plus, Mr. MLACS really stepped up and now him and BG are very close–she doesn’t need me as much. If you recall, he was away for work most of the first 18 months of her life, so we were all used to me being the primary caregiver, even when Mr. MLACS was home. But when I got sick, he had to take over and that was actually a good thing, because they have a very strong bond now.

So there are silver linings to my illness–we are stronger as a couple and as a family. We have had time to settle our affairs and we are going to move into our new home soon–we are finally out of the stress and the depression/funk we had in the wake of our house burning down. Mr. MLACS’s job has become a much less toxic place and new management is very “pro-family”, so he is home on time a lot more and a lot less stressed.

We are in a good place to have a baby.

I just have to wean off the prednisone before we can try. I’m going to drop from 32.5mg to 30mg tomorrow. I can’t imagine that my weaning will go completely smoothly–I’ll probably have to hold several weeks at various doses, pending my symptoms. But I am daring to dream that the Stelara will quell my immune system and allow me to wean off the prednisone, given patience and time.

Assuming I can straighten myself out, then we’ll *just* have to work on getting pregnant (ha ha ha ha ha–because it was SO easy–it *only* took 6 IUI’s to conceive BG).

I mean, everybody’s gotta have a dream, right?

XOXO,

MLACS