my funny girl

Well, despite my lack of posting, life's just kept on trucking away. I'm finally feeling pretty good again. Despite the unexpected allergic reaction from HAAAADES, I still think that my overall healing from surgery was quicker this time around. Perhaps because I had two less procedures rolled into the surgery this time? (Last time I had a D&C and hysteroscopy in addition to the laparoscopy.) At any rate, I'll take it. I was desperate to get back to playing with my girl!

Who, me? I'm just hiding in my new favorite spot! Boo!

This kid. She cracks me up daggum ALL. DAY. LONG. (Even when I'm away from her at work. Part of my brain thinks about work stuff while the other (better) part of my brain reflects back on whatever nutty thing she did that morning...multitasking at its finest!) 

Millie had an amazing streak of being healthy. From her 12-month well-visit until her 15-month well-visit (count it: THREE WHOLE MONTHS!!!) she had NO sick visits in between!! It was her longest streak to date. And I must have told that statistic/story to 1,389 people since the 15-month visit a few weeks ago...and I clearly jinxed her. Because since mid-November (the day before my surgery, to be exact), she's had FOUR SICK VISITS. Making up for lost time, I suppose. Womp. Nothing ever super tragic or alarming or scary, just run-of-the-mill colds/viruses/ear infections (yup, even with tubes). With her asthma, though, all of these generic winter ailments make her breathing get scary, so I always err on the side of taking her in to make sure her lungs are clear. So far so good, just lots of extra breathing treatments. I swear...that nebulizer is like my second child. I feel like it needs a monogrammed Christmas stocking next to the rest of ours.

I know exactly how to work this thing! It's my favorite game!

Everybody gets to have a turn. Even Lola! (true story)

Last weekend we went to a UGA basketball game- it was SO much fun! I'm not even remotely a fan of basketball, but a friend gave us free tickets and I figured Matt deserved a night of doing something besides waiting on me hand and foot (haha just kidding, why would he want a break from that?), so we went! I had a hunch Millie would enjoy the loud music (both from the sound system and the band), people, and general activity/festiveness of a college sporting event, and I was definitely correct.

No, I will NOT look at the camera, Mom. IT IS TIME FOR CLAPPING!!!!

Still can't look at the camera. I heard there was a mascot nearby...

OH WAIT, THERE'S THE MASCOT!! AHHHHHH!!! HELLLLPPPPPP!!!!!

Poor baby. I guess even the World's Happiest Baby has her limits.

At any rate, we had a lot of fun AND I even learned a few things...like why players get different numbers of free throws after being fouled! Not that I've ever watched much basketball, but I had observed that sometimes they get one throw, sometimes two...and I just figured it was random or something. NOT SO! Anyway...you're never too old to learn something new, I suppose! (Thanks to Matt for putting up with an entire half of my idiotic questions.) (Now, back to your waiting on me hand and foot.)

On Saturday we decided to go ahead and get our Christmas decor out. We'll wait til we get back from Thanksgiving to get the tree, but this way we can spread out the work a little...and plus, I just really felt like getting Christmas-y. Plus, I had my amazing helper this year!!

She very carefully arranged the nativity all by herself. I only had about 248 heart attacks as she womped my grandmother's priceless (to me) figurines around...

 I'd totally forgotten that last year after Christmas I'd bought this vinyl tree/ornament set on sale! We set it up on the fridge and Millie has enjoyed playing with it as much as I'd hoped she would!

If only my parents understood that I WANT ALL OF THE ORNAMENTS TO BE IN ONE HUGE PILE ON TOP OF EACH OTHER AND I NEED THEM TO STOP "FIXING" THEM!!!!

I'm happy because I just stuck one of the yummy stickers in my mouth and my mommy hasn't found it yet!

Now I just need to convince her that this tree is waaaaaay more amazing and exciting than the soon-to-come real tree!

Sorry, is this post getting obnoxiously long? I can't help it. She's too funny. I must share.

 She always wants to carry her blankies, but she trips over them. Sometimes I wrap them up like a scarf, which is precious AND practical. This morning, she was also carrying her beloved lemur, Petunia, around. Right before I managed to get my camera, she had been carrying Petunia kinda up under the 'scarf,' and she totally looked like she was nursing Petunia. HA. It was adorable and hilarious, trust me. Maybe you had to be there.

She's taken a liking to playing in our shower lately. I know. GROSS. If only she knew how infrequently we clean that thing!! Haha. Anyway, on Sunday, she decided to go spend some time enjoying a beverage in the shower...with my shoe. Because of course.

Uhh...a little less photographing, a lot more pushing, lady. Get with it.

It may be frigid winter now (alright, so it's about 50. That's cold for us!), but that doesn't stop Mills from wanting to play outside all the time. Looks like I'll be sucking it up and getting cold this winter, because a Millie that's been told "no" about playing outside is NOT a happy Millie. And yes, she does wear tiny, adorable reindeer slippers all the time. BECAUSE SHE IS THE CUTEST THING THAT HAS EVER EXISTED.

Okay, enough. I just didn't want anyone to think my lack of posting was due to a lack of cute pictures or stories to tell. It's mostly due to the fact that I got totally sucked into Jane the Virgin and had to watch every single episode, and that's required a lot of time and commitment. But now I'm current (to last night's episode...which is, I suppose, as current as is humanly possible) and so maybe I can make time for other stuff. 

Well, my coughing, snotty little grump grump (this week she's a grumpy sick person. Blah. Normally her personality goes unscathed, but not this week) needs her mommy to come cuddle. She's been so miserable at night that we let her sleep with us, which is simultaneously just lovely and also incredibly obnoxious, ha! It's all fun and games until you get sucker-punched/kicked in the gut (the gut that just had surgery...) in the middle of the night. Seriously, though. I don't know how real co-sleeping families do it. Millie flips and flops around ALL night long, and so trying to accommodate all that in between Matt and me in a queen sized bed? Ummm no. Not easy. But she's sick and this makes her feel better (or so I tell myself) (and also it keeps US from having to run to her room to soothe her every two seconds), so we'll embrace it for another night. Adios!

surgery recovery 2.0

 So I had my second endo surgery on Wednesday, and I'm still in the exciting throes of recovery...although as you can see, unlike last time, I'm not committed (or awake, more accurately) enough to post thrilling daily recovery updates. I really can't believe it's already been five days, actually. I figured I'd better write stuff down soon before I forget it all.

Requisite pre-surgery selfie

 My surgery was at noon on Wednesday, something that should be considered cruel and unusual punishment for someone who likes to eat and drink as much as I do. So. Many. Long. Waterless. Hours. Luckily, this time I did not have to "cleanse" the day before surgery. I'm not sure why, and I didn't question it. When someone hands you a gift like that, you accept it and move on, lest they change their minds. I did NOT want to do a cleanse again, and I'm thrilled I didn't have to!

But waiting til noon for surgery was still awful. I spent most of the time pepping/freaking myself out by thinking about the weird 'missing time' phenomena I was about to go through. Like, when they wheeled me back to the operating room...I would close my eyes and then be put under, and when I opened my eyes...it would be like no time had passed. Surgery could take 10 minutes or 10 days and I would have no concept of it as soon as I opened my eyes. Matt, on the other hand, would have to wait out every single boring minute in the waiting room. It's just really weird to me, so I couldn't stop thinking or talking about it. My apologies to Matt and anyone else forced to listen to me expound on my deep thinking (lookin at you, nice nurses).

As it turned out, surgery took about two hours. It took me about two more hours to come out of the anesthesia. Apparently I took it pretty hard. It's weird because I can sort of remember it, the coming awake part? But it's also really fuzzy. But I remember thrashing around a lot and the nurses holding me still so that my IVs wouldn't come out. And then I was shaking a lot, and they gave me morphine until I stopped. They didn't let Matt come back to see me for a long time. 

Anyway, I was eventually awake enough to be dumped in the car and sent on my merry, delirious, nauseous way. As last time, surgery was in Atlanta, so a long, trafficky drive home was next on the agenda. And I think that last time I was mostly asleep for the drive home, but this time I was awake enough to be completely aware of how insanely nauseous I was the whole time. It was delightful, really. 

We made it home without me puking all over the car, which felt like an enormous accomplishment. I proceeded to take All the Medicine (Percocet & Zofran) and pass out on the couch for the next five days.

Millie's been spending about half of her days at my in-laws' house and half of her time here at home with Matt and Worthless Mommy. She's not remotely impressed with the various ways Matt has configured the living room to keep her away from The Prize: Mommy.

I will get you, Mommy! Fear not! No cage can contain me!

Are you bored? You look bored. You keep falling asleep. Here, have a horse.

Oh wait, I actually want that horse now. And also, if I think really skinny thoughts, maybe I can squeeeeeze...okay, no.

Recovery has been similar but surprisingly different than last time. I felt SO sick from the anesthesia for the first two or three days. Like just constantly dizzy and lightheaded and nauseous and really disoriented. I don't remember that at all from last time. I also lost my voice and had a really scratchy throat from the tube they stuck down my throat during surgery. I kind of felt like I had strep or something. Fun! But both the sore throat and nausea/dizziness finally wore off on Friday night or so, and I feel more like "me," just with some (expected, not too terrible) abdominal pain. 

Then on Friday night my incisions really started itching. I have three incisions this time (one less than last time), and up until Friday, they hadn't bothered me in the least. No pain or burning or tightness like last time. But they started itching.

And the itching got worse.

And worse.

And never stopped, even when I was sleeping, even when I was knocked out on painkillers and sleeping.

THE ITCHING!!!!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So by yesterday evening, each incision was surrounded by bright red welts, bumps, and HERE I AM GOING TO NOT LIST SOME OF THE MORE REVOLTING SYMPTOMS, INCLUDING VARIOUS DESCRIPTIONS OF DISCHARGES I MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE BEEN SEEING, SO THANK ME LATER. After thoroughly scouring all of my post-op instructions and Googling things like "incisions itching after surgery," Matt and I finally decided it probably was not just a normal amount of itching, so we called the doctor's office first thing this morning.

My doctor agreed that most likely I am having a localized allergic reaction to either the Steri-strips (tape that is on top of the stitches) or the stitches themselves. It's much more common to be allergic to the Steri-strips, so for now they wanted me to go ahead and remove all the tape (which was NOT FUN because it's not loosened up enough yet...so this was like pulling off Bandaids that REALLY did not want to come off) (but ANYTHING IS BETTER THAN THE ITCHING) and take Benadryl and hopefully the itching should subside and the hives will go away. If they don't, then...I don't know. Maybe it wasn't the Steri-strips and maybe it's something else? I can't even think about that yet.

So the tape has been off for a few hours, and seeing what everything looks like under the tape is like a horror movie. DISGUSTING. I took pictures (because I'll need to know whether things are getting better or not), but I am consumed with the fear that I'll forget to delete the pictures and that next year they'll show up on my Time Hop and I'll just die instantly because of the gross-out shock. 

In conclusion...I hope that you never develop a Steri-strip allergy after you have surgery and Steri-strips are holding your abdomen closed, because it is possibly the nastiest and most uncomfortable thing ever.

Let's cleanse the palate with a picture of Millie playing in the leaves while her mommy suffers, shall we?

So aannnnnyway...hopefully the incision situation is heading in the right direction now and soon I will be a human again. No one is hoping for Human Erika's comeback right now like Millie is. Well, maybe Matt. He's been a champ, singlehandedly doing EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD while I beckon deliriously from the couch for crackers, waters, and a very specific baked potato from a restaurant in Athens (because cravings).

Mommy, when are we going to play games that are more fun than me stealing your socks and tickling your feet?

As for how the surgery really went, I honestly don't know much. I was too out of it immediately after surgery to really understand what the doctor was saying. He told Matt, but...I think a lot of details got lost somewhere along the way. I have a stack of pictures from surgery, but he didn't label them like he did last time, so they're fairly useless to me. I suppose I will find out what all happened when I go to my post-op appointment in a few weeks. Basically, from what Matt and I recall, he said that once he got "in there," things looked almost exactly like they did last time. Similar cysts, similar adhesions. He said he was able to clean it up almost like last time, but with one notable exception (that I don't really understand, because...I was extremely out of it). Like last time, both of my ovaries were fused to [something, whatever is behind them] with adhesions. Apparently in a perfect/normal world, your ovaries are kinda free-hanging, just floating and wiggling around in your abdomen. Mine were glued tight to [something]. Last time he was able to cut them free. This time, he was not. So all of the details are missing, but both Matt and I caught that bottom line. Hopefully I'll get more understanding about this in a few weeks.

So that's pretty much the surgery update. Unfortunately, all of my Netflix marathoning goals were way too lofty. I have really been too out of it to concentrate on anything besides not barfing (because barfing REALLY hurts my stomach). I didn't do anything but sleep for about two days, and now that I'm able to stay conscious for a few hours at a time, I do watch TV some, but I can't really focus. So I've just been watching odd episodes of House Hunters and other HGTV shows that don't really matter if you doze off for 20 minutes in the middle of the ep. 

During my most awake/bored times, I have watched a few eps of Jane the Virgin, though, and it's pretty entertaining. Matt would HAAAATE it, so I'm watching it while he's not around, but it is pretty hilarious. And also so nonsensical that it doesn't really matter if I'm 100% cognitively there or not, ha!

Thanks so much for your emails and texts checking on my well-being! I really appreciate your prayers and thoughts and random bits of entertainment and distraction! I look forward to rejoining everyone in the Land of the Living very soon! (Unless I end up self-amputating my stomach due to the Steri-strip debacle. Which was something I gave serious consideration to for about six hours during the middle of the night...) (But seriously. Watching a lot of DIY shows + painkillers + delirious itching = bad ideas)

lately

Things I’ve Been Doing Instead of Blogging:

1. All the Fall Things

Her little bow shadow? And the belly? TOO MUCH!

2. All the Boring Things, like work. And laundry. And dishes. And brushing teeth. Just kidding, that's not boring. It's alternately hilarious and torturous. You never know which it'll be, either, so it's an adventure every time!

During this particular episode, she used one hand to wave at herself in the mirror the entire time she brushed. Naturally she stopped as soon as I pulled the camera out.

3. Freaking out about the Big Gilmore News!!! And enjoying the camaraderie of freaking out with my friends and coworkers who are equally jazzed about this amazing development.

4. Planning for surgery next month.

Yep. Time for another exciting endo surgery!! That was the conclusion of my visit with the RE last week…sorry, nothing fun involving new babies or hopes of new babies. Just confirmation that my pain isn’t all in my head…I have some sizeable cysts and noteworthy endo growth, so in mid-November I’ll let him take it all out again. Womp womp. I’m not terribly nervous about surgery this go round, since I know more what to expect…but I do dread the long recovery and all the days I won’t be able to fully play with and hold Millie! I’m trying to focus on the positive, though- when it’s all done, I’ll have a lot less pain to deal with on a regular basis. And also, even though recovery will suck…think how much Netflix I can watch!! I’m currently accepting suggestions for shows to marathon during recovery. I’m presently leaning towards Friday Night Lights, but open to other ideas!

5. Fake shopping.

We’ve spent/are spending way too much money on medical bills this year for me to justify actually going shopping, so I just live vicariously through filling up shopping carts online and then closing the window without ordering. It’s fun. Kinda. Until I go to my closet to get dressed and I’m like “I should wear those black ankle boots--- oh yeah, I don’t actually own those. Dangit.”

6. Reading.

In addition to my book club book each month, I usually read about a book a week. Because ‘shopping’ at the library is free, haha. I’m currently working on The Royal We for book club this weekend and I looove it so far!! We wanted a lighter read, since last month we read Beyond Belief, which was a really heavy (and long. And repetitive.) look into a girl born into/leaving Scientology. I enjoyed it, but…yeah. It’s time for a fun book, and this one is definitely fitting the bill!

So that’s what I’ve been doing. The list of things I haven’t been doing lately is also really long, including such exciting things like cleaning my house, blogging (obvs), exercising, cooking (sorry, Matt), and doing basically anything during my free time that doesn’t involve my favorite girl. But oh well. I’ll clean the house when Millie’s 14 and too cool to hang out with her lame old mom. Although we all know that’ll never happen, because we are totally going to be Lorelai and Rory.  (Don’t you love how it all comes full circle? Millie. Gilmore Girls. Rinse and repeat.)

You will always be my favorite, Mommy! Unless you make me brush my teeth.

on lactating...or not.

It's been another busy week, for all of the same reasons as last week. 

Lather, rinse, repeat. 

Oh, except this week we also have a broken-down car to throw in the mix, forcing us into carpooling and waiting on tow trucks to pick up the dead Civic in the garage. Extra fun!! We've been procrastinating getting a new(er) (slash maybe bigger??) vehicle for some time...and now we're going to be forced into it, I guess. Yippee.

You know what one of the worst things about being super busy is? When you look at your camera roll on the phone and realize you've taken NO PICTURES OF YOUR FREAKING ADORABLE CHILD in like...a week. That is a horrible realization.

I finally took a few this morning, because babies in bear-ear-hoodies are pretty irresistible. Especially this baby.

Oh, but don't worry- what I lack in cute baby pictures, I make up for in amazing videos of the Civic's engine making its funny sound. Courtesy of Matt, obviously. It's taking so much self-control to not share that riveting video!! When I was scrolling through my camera roll there was this momentary Oooh a new video!! Matt must have took one of Millie doing someth--oh, never mind, it's a car engine. Womp.

Millie finally succumbed to some kind of cold or allergies or virus or Daycare Funk...she's one snotty and sneezy little thing. Her snot is still clear (not green or yellow) (isn't it great that I'm sharing this pertinent information?) and she doesn't have a fever, so hopefully she's not too sick...but I hate that she doesn't seem to feel well. And that she smears snot on everything, let's be honest. That's nasty. I must admit, though- her health held out about a week longer than I expected it to once she started daycare!! I thought the Funk would hit hard and early...she must have a pretty sweet immune system to survive this long! 

It is worth noting, though, that the Funk arrived exactly one day after she finished the last of her breast milk. Coincidence? I don't know, probably. But maybe not. I am so awed and amazed and grateful and thrilled that we had enough donor milk to last five and a half months!! Half of her diet for five months has been breast milk!! I really just can't believe it. What a huge blessing that donor milk was to us and to her. I know many people seem a little wary (or straight up grossed out) by the idea of donor milk, but I am so glad that it was an option available to us. My (and many of your) blog friend Emily wrote a great piece this week about why she donates breast milk- I really loved her perspective...and I'm just really, really thankful for her and so many other women like her that are willing to share with those of us who cannot breastfeed our own babies.

Back when we were initially consider and planning adoption, but before we were ever matched (either time), I had contemplated and even planned on trying to induce lactation. I really felt like breast milk was SO important for babies and that breastfeeding would be such an amazing way to bond with our baby. Each time we matched, though, I ended up deciding not to. And then questioning whether it was a decision I'd regret...while continuing to decide to not try. At the end of the day (or this almost-six months, as the case may be), I don't regret my decision to not try (although probably my lack of regret is greatly helped by the fact that Millie got breast milk anyway, despite my failure to try). Although each of our matches came about three months before the baby was due...it just seemed like it would be so much work (beginning to pump around the clock in hopes to stimulate milk production...which...pumping around the clock is one thing if you're doing it for your living, breathing child...but I can only imagine how I would have felt sitting attached to that  thing for hours a day with no guarantee of ANYTHING- milk OR baby). And I was scared of taking the herbs and medicine that would help my hormones to induce lactation- I have enough issues with my endo and estrogen without monkeying around with things. I was terrified that if my hormones started getting screwy, my endo pain would get out of check...and the last thing I wanted to be doing while sitting around and waiting for my maybe-baby to be born was sitting around in a whole lotta pain. And then there are the emotional effects of hormones. I can promise you I didn't need to be any more emotional. Oh, and at any rate, the odds of all this induction effort working at all are not all that great unless you've previously breastfed before- which I haven't, obviously. So it's not like my body would be like "oh, this again? Okay then," and jump right back into things. So it seemed like a lot of risk for something that probably wouldn't work...

But far and above everything else, my greatest fear was that it would work- that sometime before August 4, Millie's due date, I would have started lactating. And that would be great- but what if our adoption failed again? I know what that feels like. I couldn't imagine experiencing it again. And I really couldn't imagine surviving it if it happened with a baby that I'd been breastfeeding and bonding with under the influence of extra estrogen and whatever other hormones breastfeeding produces. Oh, and what- then after I give the baby back, I have to deal with cold-turkey weaning? Sitting around in pain, waiting for my milk to dry up, every single minute a constant reminder of what I just lost?

Oh hell no.

I don't know why I'm even writing all this out. I guess I just want to remember. I've had people ask- and not usually in a judgmental way, thank goodness- why I didn't try to induce lactation. And I guess the short answer is that I was pretty sure it wouldn't work, and I was terrified of what could happen if it did. And I am incredibly thankful to live in a world where safe and healthy alternatives to breast milk exist- God bless you, Similac and Enfamil and Gerber.

And plus, I've heard of (okay, like...fiftieth-hand. Not like anyone I know personally.) people spontaneously lactating under extreme circumstances- like without even trying to induce it. Even men!!! (I totally want to Google and find the stories where I've read about this, but I'm too tired. If you find one, leave it in the comments, ha.) So my philosophy was that hey- if this adoption works and this is my forever baby, God is welcome and encouraged to spring some spontaneous lactation on me. Ha. I won't turn it down! But as it turned out, he didn't, and I'm fine with that. There are a lot of nice fringe benefits to bottle feeding, as it turns out, so I just focus on those and don't waste a minute on regretting what I didn't try. At the end of the day, Millie is healthy and beautiful and smart and a great sleeper and deeply bonded to both Matt and me, who are equally responsible for her nutrition- and I couldn't be any more thankful for how we got where we are. 

(Speaking of nutrition and how smart that girl is- now she not only recognizes/understands her bottles by sight (like, gets excited and/or fussy when she sees one, depending on how starving she is), but we think she understands the word 'bottle'...it's just a working theory right now, but we've had to start using code words so that she doesn't get insane before the bottle is ready...Matt, are you getting Millie's nutrition ready? is how we usually have to phrase it now. Erika, her wholesome meal is on the counter when you're ready. She totally hasn't caught on yet.)

I have no idea how I got off on this insanely long tangent, but here we are. I guess Em's blog just had me thinking, and then we just ran out of our milk yesterday, and now Millie is sick...so bam, there you are. I didn't try to breastfeed, but I'm deeply thankful for women who are willing to donate. And I'm really impressed with women who are able to induce lactation, and I wonder how they got past all the emotional roadblocks and fear that ended up crippling me. And I am absolutely not intending to dissuade anyone from trying to induce lactation! I think it's an awesome thing to try- it just wasn't for me in my situations thus far. Who knows what the future will bring, though? Oh, and I'm also thankful (and maybe have never mentioned before?) that Millie's birth mom was willing and able to breastfeed her in the hospital immediately after birth. THAT is truly priceless on about ten different levels. We just love her and respect her so much. And I'm also thankful that almost none (literally...I know I think two people in real life) of my friends use formula and that they therefore gave me all of the formula samples and coupons that come in the mail to them. Ha. Those things were/are life savers!! 

Well, with that, I'm off to enjoy a few minutes of relishing the fact that I've already completed my 10k steps today and don't have to walk laps around my house before bed...and then go to bed. Have a happy rest of the week!

deep thoughts on being sick and important TV shows

...but two can keep a secret when one of them is dead!

How's that for an inspirational opening quote? If I weren't so lazy, I could have superimposed it over a stunning landscape or something and it could have gone viral on Pinterest....or not. Actually it's just the end of the little intro montage thingy for Pretty Little Liars. I watched 13 episodes of that yesterday, so I saw the little montage 13 times. It's really creepy. And awesome. And stuck in my head, clearly.

I had a cyst rupture late Tuesday night, so I've been stuck in bed since then. It's been probably about a year since my last cyst episode...which is GOOD!! For the last few years prior to that, I'd had ruptures pretty regularly every few months. It was miserable. But NONE for the last year. So I can't complain too much. But I think that the time off has made me wimpier or something. This one TOOK. ME. OUT. If I were wearing a pedometer yesterday, I bet it would reveal that I took about 40 steps total the entire day. I seriously do not get out of bed. Even being in bed, the pain is pretty much constant. I'd hoped I would feel better (enough) today to go back to work, but...no. Sitting upright is basically impossible. Plus I walk really slowly and weirdly (to minimize pain) and that means tons of people would notice and ask why I'm walking like that, and like....I know there shouldn't be shame involved with this...but it's still weird. I mean, if my voice is hoarse because I have strep throat, I don't feel weird about letting people know "sorry, can't talk much, step." But being unable to walk or sit properly because you had an ovarian cyst rupture is always a little awkward to explain.

Soooo...this is probably the most boring blog I've ever written, but I felt like I should do something 'productive' before I get back to watching Pretty Little Liars for the next 12 hours. I decided to pick a show that I knew Matt wouldn't want to watch or care about to marathon on these sick days...this definitely fits the bill. I love it!! What a perfect blend of beautiful people (ummm...hello, Ezra Fitz.), intriguing story lines, lovely clothing, mystery, and ridiculousness!  I think the REAL mystery that the directors or writers or whoever need to start focusing on is do high schoolers really wear that much makeup these days? Applied so perfectly?? Because it's blowing my mind. In a good way. If I could get out of this bed, I would totally be spending the day experimenting with my cosmetics in the bathroom. But alas...I cannot.

So before you go, do me a favor. I'm on my death sick bed, after all. The least you can do is entertain me. If you could relive your high school years as someone in the 'world' of a popular high school TV show (like...you'd be magically a part of whatever show it is you choose, but it would be real life and not a show anymore...but all the people from the show would still be there, acting the way they do on the show...), what would you choose? I'll go first. Obviously I'm wrapped up in PLL right now, but that's not what I'd choose-- too much drama. I'm leaning towards spending my high school years in Stars Hollow with Rory and the gang from Gilmore Girls. Small town life + preppy private school...count me in. Obviously I'd be BFF with Rory and Lorelei, I would take all of my meals at Luke's diner, but there would be some drama because I would TOTALLY 100% date Jesse. Okay. Now it's your turn! (P.S. You're welcome to join me in Stars Hollow if you wish, but I've already called dibs in Jesse, so...take that into consideration. Unless you want to start some drama...??) 

a very happy weekend

This is possibly the only Monday of the year that I eagerly anticipate (unless I'm going on vacation on a Monday. I would be excited about that, too)...the one that indicates that I survived another Mother's Day and that the world can go back to the regular, average amount of reminding me how amazing mothers and kids are. Whew.

To be honest, yesterday was better than anticipated. It was also way more awful than anticipated, but not in a way that had anything to do with MD. It was better-than-anticipated because I was so truly overwhelmed with the kindness of people all throughout the week and on Sunday-- cards, notes, texts-- just reminders to me (and other IF friends of mine) that people were thinking of and praying for me...it was so wonderful. It gets hard to be bitter when people are being wonderful-- so KNOCK IT OFF, FOLKS- BITTERNESS IS MY 'THING.' Okay, just kidding. Never stop being awesome. So in that sense, I felt incredibly loved and cared for over the weekend, despite my empty uterus and nursery. We'll call that a win.

What was not a win was the fact that my period arrived yesterday and with it a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day of Endo Awareness. I literally got out of my bed maybe 4 times the whole day (for a total of maybe 30 minutes, with 25 of that being spent on the couch). Therefore I spent the day in a drugged haze, curled up with a heating pad and my sweet dog and husband who took care of my every need and whim (such as when I suddenly realized the only thing I could possibly eat were tiny chocolate donuts). I took the opportunity of being stuck in bed all day to read a book I'd picked up at a yard sale a few months ago, Running with Scissors. Gotta say-- totally hated it. Read it cover to cover...hated it. People who compared it to the memoirs of David Sedaris...HAVE YOU EVER READ DAVID SEDARIS?? Then please don't insult him like that. This book was disturbing and grotesque, and while the author is probably a humorous person (and had a wry and humorous writing style), there was nothing funny about it. I just felt sorry for the guy and can't comprehend how everything in the book could possibly be true and no one ended up in prison. At any rate, now I'm stuck figuring out what to do with the book. I don't want to keep it. But I can't stand the thought of donating it to Goodwill because that would mean that someone else might possibly end up reading it, and I wouldn't want to inflict that on an unsuspecting person. Any ideas?

So that was yesterday-- a terrible book to top off my terrible pain. I slept terribly last night (despite drugs that should make that impossible) but here I am, ready for another week of work.

BUT! Lest you think my whole weekend was a bummer...let me inform you: It was not. Friday afternoon started off with getting to go visit Mollyanne and her brand-spankin'-new baby Emery in the hospital!

...And I'm not sure why that picture is so blurry, but oh well. Mollyanne was doing well, Emery was super cute and itty-bitty, and it was a great start to the weekend. Most notably, Emery has hair EXACTLY LIKE MINE. I mean, same color, straightness, everything. This leads me to suspect that Mollyanne stole some of my DNA and Emery is partially mine. So that's pretty awesome. Also, as Mollyanne pointed out, this will make it even easier for me to be Emery's hair (and fashion) muse (which Mollyanne had been planning on even while Emery was in utero)...so, things are off to a great start there!

On Saturday I met up with two of my lifelong besties, Elizabeth and Laura, for lunch in Lawrenceville (a town halfway between all of our homes).

To prove how awesome and long-term our friendship truly is, I would like you to enjoy the following photo-of-photos. Elizabeth found these yesterday when she was visiting her parents. Amazing. Simply amazing.

Yes, that would be the three of us in our awesome band portraits from high school. Try not to be jealous of how cool we were. 

Now you can appreciate how far we've come. Sadly, we did not take our flutes and French horns to lunch, but we did at least spend a few minutes talking about the good ol' days in band, so that's gotta count for something.

We went to Local Republic, a freakin' awesome restaurant in downtown Lawrenceville. It was SO good. I seriously wanted Matt to take me back a few hours later for dinner that night (but he wouldn't). But I'll be back soon for sure. I wanted to eat everything on the (limited, seasonally changed, locally grown-brewed-and-sourced) menu.

We did a little downtown walking and shopping, then grabbed froyo before heading back to our respective towns. It was a fabulous afternoon-- there's something so wonderful and comforting about hanging out with people who've known you since preschool.

So all in all, it was a great weekend. I even got in a few tough workouts! Oh, and we finally saw Silver Linings Playbook on Friday-- it was SO good!! This is going to be a great week, too- my very first niece (and first baby of any sort in my family) will be born on Wednesday!! So that means that next weekend will be full of all sorts of baby love and I will get to be a proud auntie again. I hope this baby looks like me, too. I have high hopes, since my brother and I looked very much alike as kids. So keep your fingers crossed for THAT very important thing...ya know, in addition to hoping she's born safely and healthily and all that, too, I guess. Whatev. You gotta have priorities.

join the movement

How exciting-- it's our week! 

Orrrr....not. Exciting, that is. No one wants to be part of a group that gets an 'awareness week' (or month). Being a part of those groups never means anything good, as far as I know. There's no awareness week for being awesome, or having a lot of cats, or not stubbing your toe for a third time today on that stupid coffee table. You know. Things that would be worth celebrating for a week or month. It's always the crappy stuff that needs awareness-raising.

So here I am, waving my flag: It's National Infertility Awareness Week! Let's celebrate?

(Side note: Who picks the weeks for these things? Because if it were up to me, I would have picked the week before Mother's Day. THAT is Infertility Awareness Week de facto, my friends. Ask anyone who's in my club. May as well call it like it is. So now we get TWO weeks, I suppose.)

 As I mentioned during Endometriosis Awareness Month (wait- endo gets a whole month, but infertility as a whole only gets a week? Seriously- who DOES plan these things?)-- if you're afflicted with it (endo, infertility, breast cancer, whatever)...you don't need an 'awareness week/month' to remind you. It's your whole life. I guess the point of the month is to remind everyone else what it's like. Or raise money. Or something.

The theme for this year is 'join the movement.' 

I feel like I've done that over the last few years. Not necessarily even intentionally...but I've been blogging pretty openly about our infertility for a number of years here, and somewhere along the way I've connected with a lot of other women doing the same thing. And though I've never joined any kind of real-life support group, I feel like we've established the same sort of community through blogging and social media. And having the support of these girls has given me the braveness and strength I've needed to be bolder and more open in my "real" life, where I know far fewer fellow IF-ers. I don't know that I've started any 'movements,' but I think I've at least established myself as the designated go-to girl for infertility in most of my real-life circles...so I guess that counts for something.

And just in case anyone wasn't aware, I put changed my FB header thing to be this. Awkward.

I don't exactly know what direction to go with this post. Am I supposed to be raising up an army of people, convincing you to join our movement? (LIKE LES MIS?!?!?! Do you hear the people sing?) If you're not experiencing infertility yourself, what can you do to 'join'? I feel like I'm preaching to the choir here-- pretty much everyone who reads my blog is either a) infertile themselves or b) has heard me ramble on ad nauseum a million times before about how miserable IF can be and how to not be one of the people that makes it even worse. But just in case you're new or you have a short memory, I'll throw out an easy-peasy #1 way you can be a friend (and not a foe, or One Of Those Whom IF Girls Send Nasty Emails To Each Other To Complain About. You don't want to be one of Those.) to the IF movement:

Give our disease(s), and consequently us, the respect you would give anyone else with a disease you deem 'legitimate.' It blows my mind to hear (both first and second-hand) the flippant write-off that infertility gets. I can't imagine people treating other diseases with such lightheartedness. Upon my friend's diagnosis with breast cancer, I heard no one suggest that she 'just relax' and it would go away...I heard no one laughingly complain about what a pain bra shopping is and tell her she is lucky she won't have to deal with that anymore...I heard no one suggest that it just wasn't God's will for her to be healthy. Why? Because breast cancer is a devastating, life-altering, and potentially life-threatening disease and people generally treat it as such. I'm not trying to suggest that an infertility diagnosis is equal to a cancer diagnosis- don't get me wrong. But what I am saying is that the diseases behind infertility (even the unknown ones that people with unexplained infertility suffer from) are real, they are medically explainable and sometimes medically treatable, and the effects of our diseases in our lives, both physically, emotionally, and socially, are very real. Just as you would not probably offer helpful suggestions about medical protocol (based on an article you read online or something you heard your sister's boyfriend's aunt did) to someone with epilepsy or kidney disease (unless you happen to be a physician, researcher, or have suffered it yourself), the men and women of the infertility community appreciate you biting your tongue before doling advice out to us, too. My endometriosis is caused by the growth of endometriomal tissue in areas outside of my uterus. The growths (and subsequent cysts and adhesions) have not only caused a huge amount of pain, but mangled one of my ovaries and my Fallopian tube, making it unlikely that a fertilized egg could ever implant there. That is a medical problem. My diminished ovarian reserve means that I have fewer eggs left, and those that are left are of diminished quality. Lower-quality eggs are less likely to be fertilized and less able to implant into my wonky Fallopian tubes. No amount of relaxing will fix these issues, and suggesting that it might only makes you look foolish. My husband's poor sperm quality with damaged DNA is unable to fertilize eggs. It is caused by vein abnormalities that developed during puberty. A tropical vacation will not fix this (although hopefully his surgery did). Propping my hips up on a pillow after sex isn't going to fix this. Trust us-- if the thing you read on the internet or saw on Dr. Oz was the cure we were waiting for, we wouldn't spend thousands of dollars on reproductive endocrinologists, experts, and surgeries. Trust me.

I have many friends who do not suffer from infertility but whom I still count as 'in the movement.' These are friends who recognize the physical and emotional pain caused by infertility and offer emotional and practical support wherever they can. They educate themselves about our diseases and ask thoughtful questions in an effort to understand better. They offer optimism and hopeful anecdotes when they sense those things are needed-- they offer a beer and a shoulder to cry on when those things are not. They jump to our defense when people brush over the pain of infertility by informing us to 'just wait, it'll happen', and they help steer conversation back to neutral ground when they find us growing teary as people share tale after tale of labor and delivery stories. I am so thankful for these friends who have perhaps unknowingly joined our movement, who understand when we dread baby showers and baptisms, who send us cards on Mother's Days, who give us first dibs on holding their babies (if we feel like it). Friends who text while we're at doctors appointments to let us know they're praying, who follow up with us afterwards, who rejoice in our small victories (OVULATION!! WOOO!!!!) and mourn with our losses...they've joined. I don't care if they donate to the research fund or join a walk-- the support they offer in real life is worth more than all of that. 

Chances are that you know someone in your real life who is dealing with infertility-- it effects 1 in 8 couples of reproductive age. Many of these couples may not be public with their status, but if they are, I hope you know how much you can help them in their journey. Treating their disease with the proper amount of disease-respect (I'm pretty sure that's a thing) and offering the same degree of concern you would to someone suffering from any other health problems is an easy way to start. Don't underestimate yourself-- even women brimming with fertility have been valued supporters and allies in my own life. You don't have to share a disease to support someone with it.

So there's my spiel. Join the movement, people. 

In case my plea wasn't strong enough for you, let me borrow the words of the original movement-makers:

Will you join in our crusade? 
Who will be strong and stand with me?

 Hint: It's a song from this book/play/movie (my favorite ever), and describing infertiles as 'les miserables' (the miserable ones, roughly) is quite apropo. I wanted to splice a picture of my face into the picture above, but I don't have Photoshop on this laptop and I'm rather lazy, so just use your imagination and pretend it's my face instead of Cosette's, ok? Thanks!

For more information about infertility or National Infertility Awareness Week, please check out Resolve's webpage.

bring on the chemicals

Yall. What a crazy night in Boston...to wake up and hear all that went on while I was blissfully sleeping...unbelievable. Relatedly: nothing makes you feel dumber than hearing that the suspects are from Chechnya and immediately yelling at the NPR guy on the radio "WHERE THE EFF IS CHECHNYA??"...like, seriously, Erika? I need to put down the novels and pick up a map, apparently. I try to make myself feel better by remembering that the countries in and around Russia and Eastern Europe and the Middle East change names/borders/etc like once a week, and the map of that region has probably changed 200 times since the last time I was in school, but...still. It should go without saying, but my thoughts and prayers continue to be with Boston (and now Texas, sheesh) this week. What a terrible week...hopefully they will catch this other suspect today and let Boston start towards healing. Jesus, please.

And I will preface the rest of this about-to-get-really-shallow blog with the acknowledgment that I know this is like, lower than a zero on the Scale of Actual Problems. I recognize that complaining about my hair at a time like this is like...reprehensible. But it's been on my mind, and you people give good advice, and ya know...a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

But seriously, yall. My hair.

As part of the Great Chemical Purge of 2012/2013, in an effort to lower the amount of weird endo-enhancing, estrogen-disrupting hormones I expose myself to, we embarked on the notorious Bird Food Diet. That has been well-documented, I would say, and somewhat well-adhered to. You know, except for when I'm at work and there is always delicious non-BFD food in the break room...then I fail to adhere. But that's beside the point. But I also tried to up our game in terms of decreasing the amount of weird chemicals we expose ourselves to in other contexts, like cleaning products and health and beauty products. For the most part I am pretty satisfied with the less-chemically products we've switched to, but when it comes to shampoo and conditioner, I am about to throw in the towel.

Those things are TERRIBLE.

BRING ON THE CHEMICALS.

I've tried maybe 3 different brands of shampoo and only one kind of conditioner (it's a HUGE bottle...ugh...and I hate to waste it, even as I hate to use it), and these things don't do jack. I may as well be rinsing my hair in saltwater every night and call it a day. It's not the in-shower 'performance' of the products that bugs me so much (a lot of people complain because  the more 'natural' products don't get sudsy/foamy like conventional shampoo does, which is weird, but not a deal-breaker for me)...it's the fact that MY HAIR IS AWFUL.

This is how I feel about the situation. NOT HAPPY.

I have long hair. But it's not like...unreasonably long. It's very straight. And here's what I do all day: sit in an office. Sometimes I get up and walk around. That's about it. So please tell me why, if I leave my hair down, I inevitably have GIANT RATS' NESTS of matted tangles all over the back of my head at like...3pm? SERIOUSLY? Like, if I'd been running...20 miles...with my hair down...with 50mph winds...and then I rubbed my hair around in some chewing gum...I could understand the matted-ness. This should not happen when all you do is sit around an office. It's disgusting. My hair is tangly, NOT soft, and even borderline frizzy sometimes, which it has never, ever been in my whole life. It's too STRAIGHT to be frizzy. Until now. And let's not even talk about how ridiculous it is when I wake up in the mornings. It's like if you got your prom up-do with 5,000 bobby pins and a bottle of hairspray, and then never took it down and slept on it for a week, and THEN took it down...imagine what would greet you? That's what I get to tame every morning. And you wonder why I wear a braid every day.

Obviously the question is...maybe my hair IS like this naturally, and it's been the chemicals I've been using (via shampoo and conditioner...I've never regularly used any other sort of 'product') for the last 29 years that leads me to believe I have non-frizzy, relatively silky, manageable hair. In that case, God bless you, chemicals. I can't wait to welcome you back into my life, as soon as I dump down the drain use up the rest of this 'natural' crap.

If anyone has any arguments as to why I SHOULDN'T re-embrace the chemical-filled goodness, this is your opportunity to convince me. I'm happy to continue using the green-er products that DON'T SUCK (ie: body wash, shaving cream, cleaning products, SOME makeup, laundry detergent)...but this shampoo/conditioner thing is just not going to be one of them (unless someone has a proven product recommendation that WORKS). I hate giving up on what should be a fairly painless lifestyle change (WAY easier than, say, going GF)...but hopefully I have adequately demonstrated that it is NOT painless. It is ridiculous. And that is why I have to say once more: bring on the chemicals.