WebMD Gal Gone Wild!

I am beyond delighted to have the uproarious and talented Stephanie D. Lewis of Once Upon Your Prime as today’s guest author. Her post deals with a subject many chronically ill people deal with on a regular basis: the dangers of searching your symptoms on the internet. Prepare for a hilarious parody of the physician-kind and make sure to check out her bio at the end!

WARNING: If you have any post-baby bladder problems, grab a pad because this post can cause you to laugh hard enough that you may suffer a urinary accident!

The Doctor Is In But I’m Out . . . Of My Mind!

All my adult life I have dealt with a debilitating disorder – – it’s called, “Tell & Show Syndrome.” Someone will TELL me about a new rare disease and WHAM! – – all the signs of it SHOW up throughout my body.

To say I am highly suggestible is an understatement. I can read an article in a woman’s magazine entitled, “10 Symptoms You’re Too Bashful To Discuss With Your Male Doctor (But You Should Before It’s Too Late!)” ~ Immediately I have all 10 plus 4 bonus ones the author wasn’t imaginative enough to think of. Fear and panic overtakes all my shyness. Gimme that doctor right this minute! I might even consider going to second base with him for a second opinion.

I do have a regular physician I call several times a week, and I’m sure the nurses give him messages that go like this – –

“That hypochondriac lady (who resembles a highly fatigued Amy Winehouse, minus the tattoos) is on the phone again. Today she’s claiming that when she walks, it feels like thumbtacks/paperclips are poking her feet. Should we advise her to proceed directly to the local office supply store?”

Feeling rather unwelcomed there, I go to my beloved online medical information mecca – – “The Web MD.”

First of all, it never dawns on me that the word “Web” in their name is a subtle symbolic tip-off that I should stay far, far away. Let’s think about this, shall we? Who has webbed feet? Ducks! And what do ducks say? “QUACK!” Hello??

But this doesn’t deter me from typing, “thumbtacks sticking feet” into the symptom-checker box and obtaining a shocking diagnosis. Four shocking diagnoses, actually. One relates to my Brain, one relates to my Heart, another to my Lungs, and the final one to my Stomach. Interestingly, none of the diseases have anything to do with Feet. And all are extremely fatal.

Having gotten C +’s in my Deductive Reasoning classes in high school, I know it isn’t possible that I would be afflicted with ALL four of these maladies. That’s only logical, right? So which one can I safely eliminate?

Next I do what I always do at 2:00 in the morning – – I log onto a hospital patient message board and post about my situation, asking if someone “out there” has ever experienced a symptom like this but everything turned out to be completely fine? I stare for hours at my computer screen waiting for anyone to type a reassuring response. And then it dawns on me. .

The reason nobody can answer my question. . .

Everyone who had this same problem has ALREADY died.

Should I start writing my Obituary or my Last Will and Testament first? And what about guardians for my precious kids! Why, oh why couldn’t my ex-husband and I ever agree on whom to name as caretakers in the event of our deaths?? His sister puts ketchup on eggs, doesn’t believe in orthodontia, and Danielle Steele is her favorite author. So what? I shoulda let all that go.

“Please God,” I bargain, “I know last week I hated this world and said I’d rather be dead than go to the Department of Motor Vehicles to renew my expired driver’s license. But I promise to find gratitude and get a new lease on life – – just please don’t let me expire!”

There’s nothing left to do. Except find a brand new doctor who hasn’t heard about my “Boy Who Cried Wolf” past. My previous doctors have issued, “WARNING: Circus Side Show Freak” bulletins about me to the medical community at large, so this will be no easy task.

I finally show up on the doorstep of an office in a faraway town. I watch as their “The Doctor is in” sign lights up. I’ve always believed first impressions are important so here is how I fill out the paperwork on the clipboard.

 New Patient Form:

NAME: (circle one) Miss/Mrs./Ms.    I’m divorced so technically it’s “Ms.” But please call me “Miss” as in “Little Miss Menopause.” Although Mr. may be a distinct possibility these days – – can you check my testosterone level?      

AGE:  I just caught a glimpse of you at the reception desk….I could be your mother’s big sister.

REASON FOR TODAY’S VISIT?   Look at me! Isn’t it obvious? I just need the Dr. to confirm how much time I have.

WEIGHT:  Who cares at this point? Just order me a size 8 burial gown. And yes, I’m banking on the fact that loss of appetite will kick in soon with this particular disease.

PROFESSION:  Writer (Pssssst! Hot tip: Publish this New Patient form. Everyone knows a deceased author’s last work commands a high price.)

EVER SKIPPED A PERIOD?  Yes, but I’m working diligently on eliminating my run-on sentences.

WHOM CAN WE THANK FOR REFERRING YOU?  You mean blame?

PERSON TO CALL IN EMERGENCY: Um…my two ex-husbands will deny knowing me. Let’s see….My kids will just ask, “What’s for dinner?” Oh, don’t call the neighbors, they’ll tell you I should have died 7 times by now.  Hmmm, I think you might call Mabel, my hairdresser. But when you say, “Died” – – you better spell it. She’ll think you mean Clairol Nice n’ Easy Deep Burgundy Brown.

I’m interrupted by the Doctor, who calls me in. He listens to my heart and pronounces it steady and strong. I resist the urge to ask when he’s last had his stethoscope calibrated. I describe how I feel (this time likening it to my feet being stabbed with steak knives) but he cuts me off before I can get to the Web MD part.

DR: Have you ever heard of Transient Paresthesia?

ME: Oh no, Doctor! Not that! I don’t even ride a train or bus!

DR: Not “Transit.” Transient, meaning Short-Lived.

ME: Good Lord, you mean I’m gonna go even quicker than I thought?

DR: Where ya headed to?

ME: Aren’t I dying?

DR: We all are. But I think you’re gonna survive this one. Transient Paresthesia = Limbs falling asleep.

As I depart, I glance over my shoulder to see him sketching a big-haired woman with the caption, “BEWARE OF CREATIVE BLOGGER WITH TOO MUCH TIME ON HER HANDS….She needs to be cut off ASAP!!” He then posts it on the WEB MD website!

---

 About the Guest Author:

Stephanie D. Lewis is a regular contributor for The Huffington Post and her work has been featured on Scary Mommy, The Mid, XO Jane, and Bluntmoms. She pens a humor blog called, “Once Upon Your Prime” and her novel, “Lullabies & Alibis” is available on Amazon. A single mother of six, she declines a full-time nanny/housekeeper but needs a live-in psychiatrist. Follow her on Twitter @missmenopause

 

Today Would Be Her Due Date

My dear friend, Jasmine, of Emilee Plays | See June Play has graciously chosen to share her premature birth story. Below she writes about her experience on what would have been her youngest daughter’s due date.
She tells beautiful stories through photo essays and today’s story is no different.  

***

Today is my due date.

Today would have been the day I met my daughter, June. Instead, I met her two months ago. Never could I have imagined that I would give birth to a preemie, but I did. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t feel a little bitter about it, or that I don’t wish things could have been different.

I could have done without the NICU stay, the worrying, and the uncertainty. When I start getting completely caught up in my thoughts about this day, I remember: June is two months old, officially a newborn, and set to get her vaccinations on Thursday.

I can breathe a little easier and I can live a lot more with my daughter.

***

A shared moment

First look

A whole new world

Emilee + June

One month

Two months

On her due date

 

What The First Week Is Like With A Newborn

Even though it was almost seven months ago, I can vividly remember what the first week was like with our new baby.  It was exciting, scary, emotional, and – oh yeah – exhausting!  I’m sure you probably could have guessed that having a newborn while living with a chronic illness wouldn’t be easy, but there’s something different about once you’re actually living it.

Too bad this isn’t a real card

This isn’t meant to scare you, of course.  I just want to give you a little heads up (no pun intended) on what your first week might be like.  Here are five things you can expect:

5. No Wonder Sleep Deprivation is Used as a Torture Method

Apparently your newborn has not yet heard of the Geneva Conventions.  If he or she had, then they’d know that sleep deprivation is listed as one of the forbidden methods of torture.  Yes, you read that right, torture.  And that’s just what it can feel like in the first few weeks when you are still adjusting.  Sleep deprivation can cause memory lapses, hallucination, confusion, irritability, headaches, and an overall case of the yuckies (not a scientific term).  So it’s no wonder that getting up to feed your baby every 2 hours, be coordinated enough to change diapers, and calmly console your baby takes a toll on your mind and body.

 

No joke I could fall asleep in 5 seconds

4. Sometimes Babies Just Cry

There really is no nice or easy way to say it, but there will be times that your baby just cries.  You go through the checklist in your head – Okay, the baby isn’t hungry, wet, too cold or too hot, doesn’t have a fever  – but still your little one is crying.  Like any new parent, I probably made unnecessary calls to the pediatrician wondering if there was something wrong that was making my baby cry.  After all, newborns can’t talk yet, so how would I know if my baby’s appendix was bursting or something?!  (Which is actually a real concern I had)  And just like every nurse, mother, and grandmother told me, sometimes they just cry.  Don’t ignore your instincts, though.  If you really think something is wrong, then please call your doctor.  But do know, that even if you’ve tried everything and your baby is still crying, it’s okay.

Foolproof method

3. Now is The Time to be Selfish

As I’ve said in posts before, my tendency to be stubborn and even a tad prideful when it comes to dealing with Lupus and a connective tissue disorder has never had a good outcome.  Sometimes if I bend over, my hip dislocates.  Sometimes during a flare-up, my joints are so stiff it hurts to sit in one position for too long.  And as I’ve also said in previous posts, once a baby enters the picture, don’t turn down help.  So with a new baby in the picture, now more than ever is the time to accept any and every offer you get.  Whether someone offers to come over and watch the baby for an hour so you can sleep or someone wants to bring you dinner, SAY YES!  You won’t regret it.

Why, yes, I will take that sandwich

2. Play Nice

With hormones and tensions running high, your filter may be a little more lax than usual.  You might find yourself snapping and speaking more harshly than usual.  And the little things that were once just mildly irritating are now cause for WWIII.  If you have a partner, the biggest piece of advice I can give you is to try and speak sweetly to them during this very crazy time.  Studies show that the first year of having baby is one of the toughest for married couples.  So while it’s completely understandable to worry about finances or to be grumpy about whose turn it is to change the diaper, remember that a little bit of kindness can go a long way.

Let it out, honey

1. Routine is Your Friend

All the adorable Pinterest boards and all the articles with perfectly-styled nurseries left out one little detail: it’s just not realistic.  When it’s two in the morning and you need to change and feed the baby, you won’t be thinking about how cute your changing station set-up is.  In reality, the most convenient set up in the first few weeks for me was having the bassinet in the living room where I could crash on the couch.  The living room was right next to the kitchen, where I set up bottles with pre-measured water in them.  It may not seem classy, but having some semblance of a routine – something easy that didn’t require much effort – made a world of difference for me and my sanity.  I’m not saying my way is right, but just find something that works for you.  You don’t need to make things harder and you certainly don’t need to worry about appearances.  Do whatever fits you and your baby’s needs and I promise it will make things just a little smoother.  And if all else fails, just relax and think of this adorable kitten massaging a little pug dog.

The Dirty Truth About Breastfeeding

Breastfeeding – whether you’re a fan or not, one thing is for sure: everyone seems to be talking about it. For many mothers around the globe, this is a wonderful celebration of the emotional and physical bond shared with their child. Breastfeeding pride is everywhere you look these days. From Instagram protests to celebrity magazine spreads, this topic has caught some media attention, as well. Olivia Wilde’s photo shoot in a diner seems appropriate since that’s the purpose of breastfeeding: nourishment.

via Glamour

But here’s the dirty truth about breastfeeding: not all women are able to do it. I’m sure breastfeeding is an amazing experience between a mother and her baby. And I think I may have even had a small glimpse of it. But that’s all it was for me, a brief glimpse. I cradled my son, tears streaming down my face, asking the heavens for a miracle while he cried, hungry and unable to receive any life-sustaining milk from the very body that unceasingly nourished him for nine months.

But the milk never came.

Don’t get me wrong, I am in total support of breastfeeding and completely aware of all the benefits. I could even cite you ten statistics off the top of my head about how awesome breastfeeding is. I am full of this knowledge for two very important reasons: first from the overwhelming amount of pressure and opinions from doctors, nurses, lactation consultants, other moms, friends, family, strangers, etc., and then from the debilitating guilt that followed and had me desperately searching the internet for answers.

Bottom line, I cannot breastfeed. My heart breaks a little more every time I admit it out loud. But my shame diminishes just a little, too. “You are not a whole woman; you’re not even a real mother.” Those thoughts still poke their way into my mind every so often and it’s difficult to ignore when tags like #FreeTheNipple started trending on Twitter and famous celebs started posting breastfeeding pictures on social media. All this pride, all this “I am woman, hear me roar” type empowerment can be both intoxicating and poisonous at the same time. I could scroll through beautiful photos of women breastfeeding their children for hours, envying them and hating myself at the same time.

Dried up desert lake beds aka my mammary glands

If I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again: you are not in control of your body when you have a chronic illness. I know this, but I am stubborn. And bitter. And I think all of us with a chronic illness are better off for being so insanely optimistic even if we never get the results we want. I wanted so badly to breastfeed. I wanted it so much it made my insides hurt (or maybe that was just the c-section). Three intimidating lactation consultants, some very caring friends, a connective tissue disorder, multiple breakdowns, a gazillion hippy-dippy remedies, and one empathetic mother later, I came to the conclusion it just wasn’t in the cards.

Shut up, tarot card

The moment I finally resigned myself to my milk-less fate, I felt like an udder failure. Get the pun?  Eh, this blog post needed a lame joke, but I digress. It took my very kind OB-GYN and my own mother to pull me out of my pit of despair. My doctor told me that many women are unable to breastfeed and that it’s common for women with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome to have issues with breastfeeding. The connective tissue disorder can make it difficult, if not impossible, for the mammary glands (which are made up of connective tissue) to produce and maintain a milk supply. So that helped on the factual, medical side, but my hormonal, emotional side still needed consoling.* Thankfully my mother was there for that. Though her story is not mine to tell, I can say that I trust her completely when she said there was nothing more I could have done and it makes me no less of a “real” mother for it. So let me tell you, if you haven’t been told already, you are a real woman, a true mother. Being able or unable to breastfeed does not make you any more or any less of a mother. Shame on anyone who would try to tell you otherwise. While I still openly support breastfeeding, I wish there was someone like me on the cover of a magazine. I wish I could see a woman – flawed, chronically ill, unable to breastfeed, tired, and with loose skin where a tight stomach once was – in the spotlight, praised by the media and told how beautiful she is. Until that happens, you have me, telling you the dirty truth and reminding you that you are beautiful. 

 

*If you feel you are unable to cope or are having serious concerns after having your baby, you may have postpartum depression. Please don’t hesitate to reach out for help. Click this link for resources and support.

Goodbye / Hello – A Tummy Timeline

Warning:  This post contains a large dose of whining, a pinch of self-loathing, and a heaping spoonful of hormones.  Read at your own risk.  

Today’s post is in honor of National Love Your Belly Day! Actually I have no idea if that’s a real “day” or not, but it sounded good, right?  Fake day aside, I was feeling a bit down in the dumps about my lovely lady lump-iness (aka my post-baby body) when I went swimsuit shopping recently. You see, having a chronic illness had already prepared me for what it feels like to be a captive in my own body.  When you live with an illness you feel neither in control nor certain. Yet one thing was always for sure, though: when I went shopping, I never had to try anything on. I was always a small.  Pregnancy changed that.

Not that I would ever be bold enough to step outside of the dressing room

But let’s take it back a little. Because you didn’t just wake up with this body one day. It took nine months to expand and seemingly a lifetime to learn how to deal with it after. Remember a time, before the embarrassing dressing room meltdowns, to the time right when your body was beginning to change? I call it the ‘it’s not a food baby’ stage. This is probably just me, but I found myself to be incredibly weirded out by my no-longer flat stomach. I was so unfamiliar with this that I felt the desperate need to constantly tell people that it was a human baby, not a food baby. People would laugh it off or say I was silly, but I saw their judgmental eyes looking at my poochy tummy.

The subtle art of the “side eye”

Then FINALLY my stomach went from being a behind-your-back conversation starter (is she pregnant?) to being a legitimate baby bump! It was just so cute and I loved showing it off all the time. “Oh this?  Yeah, it’s my super adorable baby bump. No big deal.” And as my baby bump grew, so did my confidence. Aside from the unending nausea and chronic aches and pains, there were distinct moments of that pregnancy glow I’d heard so much about!  Or maybe I was just shiny and sweaty from all that puking. But still! This was a good time for my baby bump and me!

YAAAASSS

Just as I started to hit my peak of awesomeness, a beached whale began replacing me in the mirror. My bump wasn’t a bump anymore; it was a mountain. And then there were all the lovely things that came with my growing stomach: swollen ankles, puffy feet, and cottage cheese (aka cellulite) started showing up in unexpected places. I even swore my armpits got fatter.  I have no scientific proof of this, but since it was the one place I could still shave without pulling a muscle, I became quite familiar with it. And let me just say, the shaves got trickier because my arm”pits” were more like arm”lumpy-waterbeds.” Maybe that was TMI, but you can’t honestly tell me that as you entered those final weeks of pregnancy you didn’t become crazy analytical of your body. With it being a high risk pregnancy, I was practically helping the doctor by being so focused on my ever-changing shape – even if it meant I was constantly breaking myself down in the process.

“Mirror Meltdown Amnesia” is quite normal

I remember thinking to myself that things would start to go back to “normal” once the baby was born. I’d be able to sleep on my stomach again (ha, sleep, how naive I was) and wear things besides flowing dresses and stretchy leggings. I also remember looking down immediately after being cleared to leave recovery, seeing a mushy blob of a stomach, and crying. Logically I knew that my stomach wasn’t going to be firm and flat. Reason told me that no one would judge me for still wearing maternity pants. But logic and reason mean nothing to the hormonal brain of a woman with low self-esteem. Everyone even told me that I looked good for just having had a baby. They’re just being polite, I told myself. Only I knew the real truth. Only I knew what my stomach really felt like. My body was “home” and my stomach was an uninvited stranger. How was I back to my pre-pregnancy weight, yet the muscles felt like they had been spread apart? My skin now felt uncomfortably soft and malleable.

Pity Town population: me

Want to know the shocking twist ending to this blog post?  I’m not going to say that one day I woke up and there were rainbows and sunshine everywhere. I won’t say that I walked out of the store with a brand new, super cute bikini. I won’t lie to you or myself and say I am in love with and proud of my body. It’s a work in progress. I remind myself that my body, my “home,” also became the nurturing home to my son. I also remind myself that things could have been so much worse during the pregnancy and even afterwards. I feel shame, sometimes, for being so superficial. Yet I feel comforted when I open up, like I am now, and find that other mothers – women I deemed flawless – have the same struggles. So let’s get back out on the beach and start taking full-length selfies again. We should share our battle scars, talk about the Play-Doh tummies we have, and make a safe neighborhood for our “homes.”

10 Things No One Tells You About C-Sections

Ah, the c-section. Whether it’s the iconic film scene of an alien bursting out of some poor chap’s torso or a picture of medieval torture in a history book, the images that come to mind when discussing c-sections are not usually happy ones. Let’s be honest: you’re getting major surgery, taking a tiny human out of a bigger human, and are (most likely) going to be awake for it all. So if anyone tries to dismiss your right to be a little antsy, well I won’t say what to do for legal reasons, but you get the idea. This isn’t meant to scare you, of course. But I always thought that the unknown was the scariest thing. At least if someone had told me what was going to happen during the c-section, I’d know what to expect. So that’s what I’m going to do for you. Here are all the gross, scary, awkward things that will happen before, during, and immediately after your c-section!

 

10. Paperwork & Red Tape

Even if you thought you were super smart and preregistered with your hospital prior to giving birth, there will still be paperwork to fill out and red tape to deal with for a solid twenty minutes. We arrived nice and early to our scheduled c-section, yet when we checked in at the desk (after my impromptu puke session in the parking lot bushes), they didn’t have my name right and had me listed with a different OBGYN. But we perma-sickies are used to knowing more than the hospital staff, aren’t we?

You better listen when I’m talking to you

9. You Will be All Sorts of Exposed

I knew my c-section wasn’t exactly going to be a fun getaway to Club Med (that’s still a thing, right?), but I didn’t expect to feel so much like a patient and not a person. That’s no reflection on the staff, it’s just the nature of the beast. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity in the lobby, my husband and I were taken back to our room where I was told to change. No undies or socks or jewelry, just a gown and a a gross hair net. Then a nurse came in and shaved my lady area and acted like it was a totally normal thing to do. This was my introduction to how matter of fact the staff would be about all the private and embarrassing aspects of the ordeal. In some ways it was reassuring, but at the end of the day it’s still very awkward when someone is silently shaving you.

Do I make eye contact? Or is that rude?

8. You Will be Alone… a lot

After the grooming session was over, I was told my husband would have to leave and no one would be allowed back in until the surgery was about to begin. Suddenly I was alone, just waiting for a nurse to come in, and full of time to daydream about all the things that could go wrong. Even after the pre-op stuff started, it’s still just you and a handful of people.  Technically they had more people on staff than usual as a precaution for my high-risk pregnancy risks, but without a loved one there you still feel very alone… and nervous.

becoolbecoolbecoolbecoolbecool

7. Yak City, Sick, Yak Yak City

Okay, my not-so clever spin on a line from a rap song may not be funny. But you know what is funny? Telling the nurse like nine hundred times that you’re GOING to puke, have them nod but do nothing, and then letting a glorious waterfall of vomit wash over them. It didn’t feel great, but a small part of me thought “maybe next time you’ll listen to me when I say I’m about to upchuck.”

Deal with it

The actual point of this entry is to warn you that you will definitely puke at some point. It may be when they’re poking or prodding or it may be when your internal organs suddenly shift as they finagle a human out of you. Which brings me to my next point…

6. Lines and Wires and Garishness, Oh My!

Second time in a row I’ve tried to be punny, but whatever, it’s who I am! Aaanyways, no one really told me the frequency with which people would simultaneously be both in and making holes in my body. First there was the three-attempt IV in my arm (EDS makes for lousy veins), then there was the two-attempt spinal block (scoliosis doesn’t help much), and then there’s the fact that someone has their hands INSIDE of you. It’s like the dentist, “You won’t feel pain, just pressure.” Yeah, right. I didn’t feel the scalpel but it felt like someone was sitting on my chest AND pushing my stomach and lungs up into my throat.

Yup, pretty much

5. So… c-c-cold… might… die

Another one I wasn’t warned about, surprise! Not only will you be freezing due to lack of clothing, but they keep the operating room super sterile and apparently that is synonymous with ARCTIC. Oh, and the spinal block. Unlike a vaginal birth, you have no choice about whether or not to use some kind of anesthesia. And spinal blocks give you this horrible sensation of internal cold and uncontrollable trembling. Super fun symptoms to have when you’re puking while horizontal. But the cold! Maybe it’s just me, but being freezing cold with nothing to do about it was ridiculously aggravating. It helped to imagine this, though:

Oh, Vince, you do go on

4. Here Comes Baby!

Nothing can really prepare you for the big moment. Most of the things they don’t tell you about c-sections are negative, but this is a rare positive surprise! I cannot put into words the mixture of intense emotions that surged through me when the big moment arrived. I was extremely relieved he was healthy, so excited to meet the little thing that was once smaller than a blueberry inside me, in awe of the fragility of this new life, nervous that I wasn’t going to be a good enough mom, and just blown away that this HUMAN came out of ME!

It really is!

3. Alone Again, Naturally

I may be in my late twenties, but I love me some melancholy 70s music. As Gilbert O’Sullivan so poignantly states, “Reality came around.  And without so much as a mere touch, cut me into little pieces.” Except I was cut just once, maybe six inches wide. Boy, did reality come around, though. After the awesome moment that you hear your baby’s first cry (of many), you are on your own again. I wanted to do the “natural” c-section thing, but with my severe shaking and unstoppable, frequent vomiting, they couldn’t bring the baby near me. So off he was carted, my husband went with him, and I was alone on the table getting stitched up. I guess I should have figured this, but the “finishing up” portion of the c-section took about forty-five minutes and was much longer compared to the “pre-baby coming out” part. Emotions were running high, I just wanted to be with my baby, but this is one you just have to endure.

OH THE FEELS

2. EXIT ONLY!

Warning: TMI ahead.

Pee-pee holes, as adults often call them, are meant for one thing and one thing only: to let urine out of your body. In other words, it is an exit only. This is why I hate catheters and do not like when grumpy nurses with cold hands wake me up and fiddle with a tube in my sensitive area.

Excuse me?!

Oh you thought the c-section was the end of people all up in your nether regions? Haha, nope! You will be woken up just as much, if not more, by the hospital staff than your own baby to check out your “stuff.” P.S. you don’t get to wear underwear for a while. You’ll lay on a doggy pee-pad while Carrie-sized amounts of blood just pour out for way too long. I thought that since it wasn’t a vaginal birth, it was normal down there. False. You’ve just had a baby taken out of you (a significant trauma) and the blood has to go somewhere. So expect your “exits” to still be examined for a while after the surgery.

1. You Want Me to Do WHA?

Hey you know how you just had a baby and you’re super achy but have somehow managed to muster what little strength you have to care for your baby? Well now they want you to freaking WALK. The audacity! They stress the importance of getting vertical and walking, and I get it, but does it have to be so soon?

Not an option, bro

Apparently, yes. You really do need to get up and walk. In the end, walking when I did – and doing it often – significantly helped with the healing process and getting my bowels moving. Trust me, do not underestimate the value of getting your tummy factory up and running again!

 

So there you have it: ten things that you probably didn’t know about the whole c-section process. Some parts of the experience are super unpleasant, some are just awkward, but in the end you get an incredible reward: your very own baby! Its resale value is slightly less now that it’s out of the original packaging, though. (GET IT?) But for real, I’d do it all again (maybe take a few more stool softeners) because nothing compares to the moment when you look into your baby’s eyes for the first time. Oh, geesh, where’s my Kleenex?

C-Section Checklist

We’re gonna hop in a little time machine here and go back to the frantic days leading up to THE BIG DAY.  Everyone was telling me the “must haves” I needed for the c-section.  But some of them just sounded downright silly.  Like, who is actually going to need to bring their make-up bag nonetheless have time to apply it?  The answer is no one, by the way.  No one has time to be model pretty and if they say they do, they are either lying or some kind of future alien thing.  So as if I didn’t have enough things on my mind – is the house ready? will the baby like the nursery? what if I fart during the c-section??? – I had yet to do anything that even closely resembled packing.  Time management isn’t really my “thing.”

Basically me everyday of ever

So, without further ado, because my rambling and tangents could theoretically go on forever, here is a (mostly) foolproof packing checklist for your c-section and hospital stay:

For Just You:

• Pajama type or loose fitting dresses.  Having a tight waistband pressing on your incision is Guantanamo-level torture
• Some hospitals will provide socks with little grippy things on the bottom, some will not.  If they don’t, I highly suggest bringing a pair or two, because slipping on a cold hospital floor after major surgery isn’t super fun
• Maternity bras (plus nursing pads) and really comfy undies.  Some ladies like to go the low-cut route (so it doesn’t touch the incision) some like high-waisted undies (because it feels like it keeps everything “in”).  It’s dealers choice
• Your own pillow(s) and blanket(s).  Not only are hospital pillows flat and oddly noisy, but hospital blankets are thinner than truck stop bathroom toilet paper.  And that’s saying something

I just want to be warm and slee-hee-hee-heep

• If you’re breastfeeding, bring your own pillow and cover and other paraphernalia because most hospitals will only provide a hospital-grade pump
• LOTS OF HEADBANDS.  Between puking, sweating, tossing and turning in bed, and other things, you do not want to deal with hair in your face
• This is a big one!  The hospital room I was in had a shower with washcloths and towels, but no shampoo or soap.  Also, even if you’re not going to breastfeed, your body will still be producing colostrum (aka liquid gold) AND your baby needs to smell you, pheromones and all.  So BRING YOUR OWN SOAP.  Use something unscented and gentle so as not to confuse your baby’s Basset Hound-like scent receptors.  Oh, and Q-tips.  Bring Q-tips because water in the ear is super annoying.

For the Baby:

• Note:  Thankfully you won’t actually need to bring much for your baby during your hospital stay.  In between hospital staff and visitors, there will be an ample supply of diapers, beanies, bottles, formula, and everything else for your little one
• Going-home outfit.  It’s up to you if you esteem fashion over ease, but remember that your baby is floppy, fragile, and impatient
• Receiving/swaddling blankets.  ASK FOR TIPS from your nurse on how to make a nice little baby burrito because swaddling is not as easy as it looks

This is a fairly accurate equivalent of trying to swadde a baby

• Mittens are a must because babies just love trying to scratch themselves and simultaneously gouge their eyes out with their tiny, angry fingernails
• Grooming kit type things and pacifiers are optional again based on what your local hospital will/won’t provide

For your Partner:

• Note:  Your partner’s sole job is to hold on to and take care of all the things you don’t have time for, just being honest.  With that said, the following items are less about things to keep your partner comfy and more about keeping your life stress-free
• Facial toner.  This was a Godsend because I didn’t have the time/energy to wash my face yet I still felt like I had spent 13 hours over a fast-food fryer.  The toner not only let me feel refreshed but I didn’t even have to get out of bed!
• IDs, insurance cards, and any other paperwork your hospital or doctors require
• Camera (or SmartPhone) for all the necessary pictures you need to take.  I don’t care if people say all newborns look the same, I want pictures, gosh darnit!
• Chargers and batteries!  This one CANNOT be stressed enough, people
• Cash for vending machines, valet, or any other services that don’t accept cards (which, surprisingly, is a lot!)
• Here’s one I didn’t think would be important but I’m so glad I brought – BAGS.  Bags for dirty laundry, supplies the hospital gives you to take home, gifts visitors bring, paperwork from your doctor/nurse, and everything else that will come your way.  Believe me, you will leave for the hospital thinking you are fully packed but then you will go home looking like a Canadian experiencing Disney for the first time.  No offense.

Be careful or this could be you!

Hope this checklist helps or at least gives you a guideline for packing!  Up next is a post about all the “wonderful” things they don’t tell you about getting a c-section!  Hang in there, though, ladies; you can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel (insert vaginal birth jokes).

HOLY GUACAMOLE – and other musings

Has it really been six months since my last blog post?  I wonder why tha – oh wait, I know.  As a matter of fact, just as I sat down to write this, my little monster blessing decided it was the perfect time for a meltdown.  But we’ll get to the joys of parenting a little later.  Well, actually that ties directly in to what this post is about.  I mean this in the least hippie-ish way possible, but it’s all about acceptance.

Okay, so maybe it IS a little hippie-ish

 

Point being, no amount of preparation can adequately compare to the reality of having a little human who needs you for everything and relies on you 24/7.  They should have called the book (and subsequent movie) “When you’re Expecting, Expect to Have your Expectations Obliterated.”  Perhaps I shall copyright that and become a millionaire.  Or, more likely, it will take me eight hours to finish this post because of feedings, diaper changing, consoling, pulling out of hair, and teething meltdowns.  And you know what’s the most insane part about all of that?  I actually don’t mind it.  I even think I – dare I say? – like it!  That is possibly the best expectation to have blown out of the water.  You love this mini monster so darn much that no amount of Gitmo-level torture can make you bitter about the situation.  You may, however, be so sleep deprived that your happiness frightens others.

 

I’M JUST SO HAPPY

 

So yeah, a little acceptance, a lot of self-forgiveness, and a healthy understanding that crazy is the new normal will help you make it through the first few weeks.  And let’s be honest.  The first few days will feel like weeks and when the doctor discharges you, you will expect to exit the hospital and see flying cars and robot people since surely eons have gone by whilst you were in there.  Because, besides the fact that you’ve just had a small human taken out of your body, you are awakened every one to two hours for days on end and your sense of space and time is just not what it used to be.

 

Obligatory DW gif, sorry

 

I’d apologize for the lateness, the lack of clarity, and the shortness of this blog post, but apologizing is just no longer the biggest nor the best tool in my skill set anymore.  Apologizing really shouldn’t be in yours either with the small exception of explosive diarrhea in a public place.  And that’s totally a random example, not like anything close to that has ever actually happened… ahem.  Anyways, I really will get back into the swing of things with better posts and (hopefully) better time management, but I’m a mom now and things are just a little more timey-wimey and wibbly-wobbly these days 😉  So accept the crazy.  Accept that leaving in ten minutes really means getting on the road in twenty.  Accept that some people won’t be able to keep up with the new mommy you.  Accept that you’re a new mommy.  Accept that there will be more bodily fluids on you then a hotel scene in an episode of CSI.  Thank you to anyone who has kept up or stayed with this blog, it truly means the world to me ❤

5 Things You Need to Get Over Now

Whether you’re pregnant with your first or a seasoned vet, you already know that your life is different with a child in the picture. So here are five things I realized I needed to get over (quickly!) in order to have a healthy, less stressful life.

5. Saying No

Whether you’re a social butterfly or a people-pleaser, you’re going to need to add this word to your vocabulary: NO.  In the beginning, your life as a mother might not have changed that much.  But soon, you’re probably going to need to get used to turning down party invitations, not volunteering for projects, and no longer being a pillar of strength for everyone but you.  Don’t feel guilty if you have to say no to a girls night out with your best friend.  The people who love you won’t be offended and will understand that you are going through a crazy tough time emotionally and physically.  Don’t be afraid to say no at work, either.  The laws in most states are pretty good at protecting pregnant women from unfair treatment in the workplace.  So if your boss orders you to pull multiple all-nighters or do something physically demanding, be unafraid and unashamed to say NO. 

Say it LOUD and PROUD

4. Superficial Things

Nothing puts things in perspective like bringing a life into the world.  All of a sudden, the little things seem comically small and you wonder why you ever worried about those things at all.  But we, as emotional women, will sometimes put a magnifying glass to trivial concerns and work ourselves into a tizzy over them.  Don’t fall prey to stressing over the superficial things.  First thing to go for me was caring about my appearance.  Once, I opened my door and the UPS man made a joke about me wearing pajamas in the afternoon.  I responded with, “I’m sick and I’m pregnant.”  He paused and replied with, “Did I mention those are very nice pajamas?”  Wise man.  You learn to not only get over caring about how you look, but about what people think.  You’re caring for and raising a human.  So remember that everything else comes second to that. You need to take care of yourself and be healthy in order to be able to take care of your little one.

You go, Penny!

3. Mistaking Pride for Bravery

I’ve brought this issue up before and continue to do so because it was such an important realization for me.  When my Lupus and Ehlers-Danlos were in full swing (pre-pregnancy), I was bound and determined to still live a normal, active life.  I wasn’t going to use my illnesses as a crutch and be dependent on others.  However, this kind of bull-headed approach can be quite dangerous when you enter motherhood.  You are not doing your baby any favors by trying to be “tough” and putting yourself in potentially harmful situations.  If you need help lifting something, ask.  If you can’t work anymore, don’t.  If something hurts, stop.  This was incredibly hard for me to do, but if you won’t accept support for yourself, do it for you baby’s sake.  Even the strongest people need help sometimes.

Even the best people can you extra support

2. Being Easily Intimidated

Some of you ladies may already have a strong, mama bear instinct, but some of us just need a little extra encouragement.  Outsiders also underestimate how frightening the whole experience of going through a high-risk pregnancy can be for a woman.  Not only are you getting opinions and advice from family and friends, but you’re getting news and orders from your doctors, too.  Whether you’re making decisions about your child’s health while you’re pregnant or while you’re in the pediatrician’s office, you need to stand firm in your right to protect your child.  When every decision you make has the potential to impact your baby’s health, it can be very easy to let anxiety take over and for your instinct to take the back seat.  A dear friend of mine – through no fault of her own – is dealing with the consequences of neglect and abuse of authority on the part of the medical staff that was supposed to be keeping her baby’s best interest at heart.  Though she doesn’t have a weak bone in her body, the doctors still made mistakes that changed the life of her baby forever.  Remember, you have the right to tell the doctors what you do/don’t consent to and you also have the right to be informed every step of the way.  You have to dig deep, listen to what your gut is telling you, and be outspoken about the issue.

Find your inner lioness

1. Being Embarrassed

Fact: when pregnant, strangers will be examining your downstairs.  Fact: you will not always have time to prepare for said examinations.  Fact: sometimes you will accidentally snart (sneeze+fart) on your doctor.  These things happen.  The only reason I put this on my list of things to get over, is that your well-intentioned preservation of dignity can actually be a bad thing.  I’m unfortunately speaking from experience.  Early on in pregnancy, I let my shyness, modesty, and embarrassment override my better sense of judgement.  I wrote off my pain and bleeding as possible hemorrhoid issues.  I also told myself that I was probably overreacting and that the blood was barely more than what I would call spotting.  As it turned out, I had a ruptured uterine cyst and a subsequent infection that led to a pre-term labor scare.  Thank the good Lord that everything worked in the end, but boy did I learn my lesson!  From then on out, I didn’t care if I grew a second anus and I didn’t care how many doctors would like to see my mutant sphincter.  (For the record I only have one anus, thankyouverymuch.)  Point being, get over any hang ups you have about embarrassment or weird body issues.  Your baby’s health is top priority.

Judy Garland knows what’s up

All joking aside, this was a very personal post to me.  I hope it lets women know they’re not alone in this struggle, there is support, and, now more than ever, it is necessary to have (and use) your strong voice!