My daughter has a great sense of humor. I can tell that already. There's a few things that make me say this. One is that she's figured out that if Daddy pats her on the back and she says "Waaaaaaaaaaahhh!" it comes out like "Waa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-aa-hh!" So she'll do that for a little while, and looks very pleased with herself. Another is that she thinks it's hilarious if I "eat" her hand, and will keep putting her hand up to my mouth for me to "Nom! Nom! Nom!" and she'll smile and laugh.
But the main reason I say this is the way she's been waking me up every morning for the past couple weeks.
As I've talked about before, we've become a bed-sharing family. Actually, we've become a "Mommy and Baby get the master bed while Daddy sleeps in the guest bed" family. And it works great for us. Marshall doesn't normally go to bed until much later than we do (Jilly's in bed around 7, me at 10:30, and Marsh around 1-2 a.m.), so with him sleeping in the other room Jilly and I can get uninterupted rest. Plus, we get up a couple hours at least before Marshall so that way we don't wake him up.
It used to be that I'd be awoken by Jilly's slight stirrings as she was waking up for the day. Now that she's a little older, she's found a new way to let me know she's ready to take on the world. She pets my face. Literally.
Starting a couple weeks ago, I would feel her stir, start to wake up myself, then suddenly feel her little hand exploring my face, accompanied by a "Gaaa?" It's hilarious. Sometimes she grabs my nose, and sometimes she strokes my face like I'm her little pet. It's always with some kind of audible noise, usually question-y sounding in nature, and always with a smile.
Actually, I think she might think I'm her pet. As in, I think she thinks she owns me. And she kind of does. Besides waking me up with a gentle pat, as she falls asleep lately she reaches out and pets me on the chest or arm like "Good Mommy, way to comfort me, Mommy!" And within the past few days, she's decided that she's going to let me know she's hungry by reaching up and pulling down the top of my shirt. Quite embarrassing when we're, say, in the clinic's waiting room waiting for her four month checkup.
Then there's the banana incident, and others like it. Two days ago, I was eating a banana while holding her, when she reached up, stuck her hand in my mouth, and grabbed at my currently being chewed banana. She managed to get a little and stick it in her own mouth. It rocked her world. She LOVES her bananas. We've shared a couple since then, with me chewing and chewing, then letting her eat some ABC, mama made banana puree. Now, whenever she sees a banana she goes "Oooh! Oooooo! Oooh! Ooooo!" with her eyes wide and her arms flailing. She's constantly watching me eat and mimicking me by opening her mouth as I open mine and "chewing" as I chew. Sadly, I think my baby's pretty ready for solids.
All of these things remind me that a baby is a teeny tiny person. Not like I didn't know that already, but it's easy to forget when they're fresh outta the tummy that they have their own little personalities. Now that I'm seeing hers shine through, I'm so enjoying watching the person she's becoming.
And she's becoming quite bossy. It cracks me up!
Monday, May 23, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
Cyclosporine
Cyclosporine is a drug given mainly to patients before receiving an organ transplant. It supresses the body's immune system so the body doesn't reject the new organ. It's also used as a treatment for cancer, although I'm not exactly sure why. Rarely, it's used by people with skin disorders like psoriasis when no other treatments yield results.
Marshall is now on cyclosporine for his cholinergic urticaria.
Side effects include nausea, vomiting, stomach pains, lack of appetite, mood swings, fatigue, changes in hair growth, hair growing in random places (which I find especially odd), and if used prolongingly many patients have hip and joint issues. Most users will experience side effects to some degree.
Within one hour of taking his medication, Marshall starts to experience what starts as a sour stomach. He says it starts feeling similar to how your stomach feels when you eat too much sugar. Then, he feels like his core is warm, while his arms and legs feel cooler. It escalates at some point into what he can only describe as a super nasty sour feeling that radiates through his body before starting to feel better. He feels like he's going to throw up constantly for about half an hour or so. The better his stomach feels, the more fatigued he begins to feel. At least with the fatigue he's not in pain.
He has definate mood swings. One minute we're laughing and joking, the next he's irritated with my teasing and wants to be alone. I'm learning to deal with it. My job as his wife is to try to stay as even keel as possible throughout this whole ordeal.
He's still having break outs. He's taking this stuff that makes him so sick, and it's not supressing his breakouts at all.
I hate cyclosporine. I hate the way it makes him feel. I hate that I can't make him better. I hate that it doesn't make him better.
And most of all I hate how it's made us lose hope. We've lost hope that he'll remain in the Air Force. We've lost hope that they'll let him appeal. We know this is the beginning of the end. Of that, we're both certain. And even if they do let him appeal, we doubt they'd decide anything different.
It's hard. It's so freaking hard. We make jokes about the movie "Fun with Dick and Jane." You know that scene where they sell their nice BMW family car and get a crappy teensy two door car that's falling apart? We joke about having to trade in our Focus, which we just bought a little over a year ago before this process started, and getting teensy car. We joke about having to sell our TV to have money to pay our bills.
And then we have a serious discussion about it. About what stays and what goes if things start to get bad. About welfare, medicaid, food stamps, and government assistance programs that we'll need to join. About living with parents and applying for jobs at McDonald's or Denny's or Burger King until we can find jobs better suited for us. About who will watch Jilly while we work, and about watching our dreams for our family crumble. About if I should go ahead and move back to Ohio with Jilly and try to find a job while we still have a main income, so I can take my time and find something I'd like to do, instead of have to do.
I keep it together, for the most part. I wait until I'm away from Marshall and Jilly, usually when I'm in the shower, to lose it. The hardest part for me is knowing that I'm probably going to have to leave Jilly. My dream was always to be able to stay home with my children. I love being home with her. But is that an option when you and your husband are going to be unemployed, or do you have to go find work, at least for a little while?
There's a constant knot in the pit of my stomach. I just want him to get better. Not just so he can keep the career he's so proud to be building, but so he can feel better. I want him to get better so bad it hurts. It makes me angry. It makes me question why. Why is this happening to him? It makes me question God.
I want so much for my family, especially my daughter. I want her to have a mommy who can stay home with her and raise her, and a daddy who can provide for her. I want to be able to buy her nice things, take her places, go on vacations. And I'm so scared, with the economy the way it is, that Marshall won't be able to find a good job. One that makes him proud, and has benefits, and gives us enough to live off of so I can continue being a full time mommy to Jillian.
I'm terrified.
Marshall is now on cyclosporine for his cholinergic urticaria.
Side effects include nausea, vomiting, stomach pains, lack of appetite, mood swings, fatigue, changes in hair growth, hair growing in random places (which I find especially odd), and if used prolongingly many patients have hip and joint issues. Most users will experience side effects to some degree.
Within one hour of taking his medication, Marshall starts to experience what starts as a sour stomach. He says it starts feeling similar to how your stomach feels when you eat too much sugar. Then, he feels like his core is warm, while his arms and legs feel cooler. It escalates at some point into what he can only describe as a super nasty sour feeling that radiates through his body before starting to feel better. He feels like he's going to throw up constantly for about half an hour or so. The better his stomach feels, the more fatigued he begins to feel. At least with the fatigue he's not in pain.
He has definate mood swings. One minute we're laughing and joking, the next he's irritated with my teasing and wants to be alone. I'm learning to deal with it. My job as his wife is to try to stay as even keel as possible throughout this whole ordeal.
He's still having break outs. He's taking this stuff that makes him so sick, and it's not supressing his breakouts at all.
I hate cyclosporine. I hate the way it makes him feel. I hate that I can't make him better. I hate that it doesn't make him better.
And most of all I hate how it's made us lose hope. We've lost hope that he'll remain in the Air Force. We've lost hope that they'll let him appeal. We know this is the beginning of the end. Of that, we're both certain. And even if they do let him appeal, we doubt they'd decide anything different.
It's hard. It's so freaking hard. We make jokes about the movie "Fun with Dick and Jane." You know that scene where they sell their nice BMW family car and get a crappy teensy two door car that's falling apart? We joke about having to trade in our Focus, which we just bought a little over a year ago before this process started, and getting teensy car. We joke about having to sell our TV to have money to pay our bills.
And then we have a serious discussion about it. About what stays and what goes if things start to get bad. About welfare, medicaid, food stamps, and government assistance programs that we'll need to join. About living with parents and applying for jobs at McDonald's or Denny's or Burger King until we can find jobs better suited for us. About who will watch Jilly while we work, and about watching our dreams for our family crumble. About if I should go ahead and move back to Ohio with Jilly and try to find a job while we still have a main income, so I can take my time and find something I'd like to do, instead of have to do.
I keep it together, for the most part. I wait until I'm away from Marshall and Jilly, usually when I'm in the shower, to lose it. The hardest part for me is knowing that I'm probably going to have to leave Jilly. My dream was always to be able to stay home with my children. I love being home with her. But is that an option when you and your husband are going to be unemployed, or do you have to go find work, at least for a little while?
There's a constant knot in the pit of my stomach. I just want him to get better. Not just so he can keep the career he's so proud to be building, but so he can feel better. I want him to get better so bad it hurts. It makes me angry. It makes me question why. Why is this happening to him? It makes me question God.
I want so much for my family, especially my daughter. I want her to have a mommy who can stay home with her and raise her, and a daddy who can provide for her. I want to be able to buy her nice things, take her places, go on vacations. And I'm so scared, with the economy the way it is, that Marshall won't be able to find a good job. One that makes him proud, and has benefits, and gives us enough to live off of so I can continue being a full time mommy to Jillian.
I'm terrified.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
My first real Mother's Day
On my very first Mother's Day, my husband surprised me with a bottle of Victoria's Secret Love Spell, a bouquet of flowers, and a cute card saying something along the lines of being for "A Mom-to-be on Mother's Day." We were celebrating becoming parents to the being inside who was around 8 weeks along. I was showered with "Happy Mother's Days" from loving friends and family. My mom even made me a homemade Mother-to-be's Day card in celebration. What we didn't know then, was that two weeks later I'd be receiving another bouquet of flowers from my husband, and more wishes from others, but this time in mourning of the life that should have been. That was Mother's Day 2009, and before that terrible moment that changed me forever, I celebrated and was happy.
Mother's Day 2010 was a very hard day for me. I had one miscarriage and a chemical pregnancy at the beginning of the year under my belt, and felt sad that I didn't get to celebrate being a mother. My husband wished me a "Happy Mother's Day," saying that although our baby was gone, I was still a mom to that little one, regardless of the fact that we never got to meet. I was very torn. Each card or sign I saw posted made me feel a weird mix of happiness and longing. Mainly just longing. I quietly wished myself a Happy Mother's Day, and went on with the day, hoping someone would notice that I wanted to be wished well, too. I was after all a mother. But I felt very odd. Do you celebrate when you don't have any children here on earth, or when your children didn't even get to take a first breath of air? It was a bittersweet day, and another reminder of the life and dreams I had lost. Little did I know then that there was a little baby growing in my belly. I wouldn't find that out for an ironic two more weeks. (The symmetry between my first and second pregnancies is unbelievably creepy. Perhaps another time.)
This year, Mother's Day 2011, is the first Mother's Day in which I have a living child to celebrate with. So this day, I celebrate her, not me. I thank the Lord above for the wonderful blessing he's given me in Jillian. I don't think I've ever given God as much thanks and praise as I have since Jilly's arrived. Since she's come into my life, I thank God for her at least once as hour. She smiles, and I'll send up a silent prayer of gratitude. The same when she giggles. The same when she looks at me. When she blinks. When she cries. When she eats. When she sleeps. Pretty much when she does anything. I doubted I would be blessed with a child, and now I have a baby to love, to hold, and to feel her love back. Unlike the Mother's Day of the past, I can wrap my daughter up in a big hug and feel her snuggle into me.
We went to the Gartenschau in downtown Kaiserslautern, where I watched my little girl take in the scenery and people around her. And she "played" in a park for the first time. We had a few groups of German ladies stop to tell us she was pretty and say hello. (My small German vocabulary at least gave me some indication of what they were talking about, lol.)
And that, folks, is what Mother's Day is all about. For all those days when we hold, we love, we kiss, we hug, we comfort, we cry with, we watch, we marvel at, we feel frustration with, we protect our children. For all those times when we look at them with disbelief that something so wonderful could be ours. For all those moments when we feel so much love swelling in our hearts that we feel we might explode heart shaped confetti from out chests. This day is for us.
Thank you, God, for giving me a reason to celebrate today. You have blessed me beyond what I deserve.
Mother's Day 2010 was a very hard day for me. I had one miscarriage and a chemical pregnancy at the beginning of the year under my belt, and felt sad that I didn't get to celebrate being a mother. My husband wished me a "Happy Mother's Day," saying that although our baby was gone, I was still a mom to that little one, regardless of the fact that we never got to meet. I was very torn. Each card or sign I saw posted made me feel a weird mix of happiness and longing. Mainly just longing. I quietly wished myself a Happy Mother's Day, and went on with the day, hoping someone would notice that I wanted to be wished well, too. I was after all a mother. But I felt very odd. Do you celebrate when you don't have any children here on earth, or when your children didn't even get to take a first breath of air? It was a bittersweet day, and another reminder of the life and dreams I had lost. Little did I know then that there was a little baby growing in my belly. I wouldn't find that out for an ironic two more weeks. (The symmetry between my first and second pregnancies is unbelievably creepy. Perhaps another time.)
This year, Mother's Day 2011, is the first Mother's Day in which I have a living child to celebrate with. So this day, I celebrate her, not me. I thank the Lord above for the wonderful blessing he's given me in Jillian. I don't think I've ever given God as much thanks and praise as I have since Jilly's arrived. Since she's come into my life, I thank God for her at least once as hour. She smiles, and I'll send up a silent prayer of gratitude. The same when she giggles. The same when she looks at me. When she blinks. When she cries. When she eats. When she sleeps. Pretty much when she does anything. I doubted I would be blessed with a child, and now I have a baby to love, to hold, and to feel her love back. Unlike the Mother's Day of the past, I can wrap my daughter up in a big hug and feel her snuggle into me.
We went to the Gartenschau in downtown Kaiserslautern, where I watched my little girl take in the scenery and people around her. And she "played" in a park for the first time. We had a few groups of German ladies stop to tell us she was pretty and say hello. (My small German vocabulary at least gave me some indication of what they were talking about, lol.)
And that, folks, is what Mother's Day is all about. For all those days when we hold, we love, we kiss, we hug, we comfort, we cry with, we watch, we marvel at, we feel frustration with, we protect our children. For all those times when we look at them with disbelief that something so wonderful could be ours. For all those moments when we feel so much love swelling in our hearts that we feel we might explode heart shaped confetti from out chests. This day is for us.
Thank you, God, for giving me a reason to celebrate today. You have blessed me beyond what I deserve.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Return of the Foodie
Yes, that's right. I finally am making another food post! Can you hear the crowd cheering? And by crowd I mean me. Woooot!
I've been out of the loop in inventive cooking since Jilly's been born. You would think I'd have to be more creative and find options that are quick and easy to eat one handed, but let me tell you, that kid rules this house. Most nights Marshall is working, and it's much easier for me to heat up that Lean Cuisine than invent a cuisine of my own. And on days when I do have time to cook, I've been making the same things over and over. (I did, however, make a pretty tasty pork tenderloin for Easter, if I do say so myself, using a glaze made of Catalina dressing and honey, and a sprinkling of chili powder, garlic powder, rosemary, and something else which escapes me at the moment. It was yummy.)
But tonight, my readers, it was on. I felt the itch. I needed to invent something. But what?
History lesson: Today is Cinco de Mayo. Which, in America, is a holiday where college students and those wild and crazy peeps without kids drink Tequila and Margaritas and Corona and Dos Equis while doing a drunken Mexican Hat Dance in celebration of something or other that happened in Mexico. In short, Cinco de Mayo is an excuse to drink for us Americans. I'm celebrating by drinking a small glass of Moscato. Party hardy.
In honor of this holiday, I invented a new recipe I appropriately call "The Chixican Hat Dance." It's a skillet dish (my favorite), and is not very healthy, but very, very tasty. And of course I made enough for a small army so we have plenty of leftovers for the next night or so. Here's what I had.
~ 1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1/2 inch wide strips
~ Taco seasonings (I make my own out of chili powder, ground cumin, paprika, garlic powder, and minced onion
~ 3/4 cup water, divided
~ 2 cups white rice, cooked
~ 1 cup thick n chunky salsa (I use medium)
~ 1 cup Frozen bell pepper strips, thawed
~ 1 can whole kernel corn
~ 1 cup Shredded Monterey Jack or Cheddar cheese*
And here's what I did.
Heat a small amount of oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken and cook 10 minutes, turning the chicken strips every few minutes or so. Sprinkle with taco seasonings and add in 1/2 cup water. Heat to simmering, turning chicken strips every few minutes. Once chicken has finished cooking through (approx. 5 more minutes), remove chicken from skillet. Reduce heat to low. Add in 1/4 cup water, white rice, and salsa. Mix together. Add in pepper strips and corn. Mix together. Place chicken on top. Smother with cheese and serve.
The finished product, which is tastier than it looked.
It was so, so yummy! Next time, though, I'm going to add in a can of black beans. I didn't have any in the cupboard this time.
It's nice to get back to doing something I love!
* I put one cup of cheese, but I just sprinkled over top to cover. Use as much or as little as your heart desires!
I've been out of the loop in inventive cooking since Jilly's been born. You would think I'd have to be more creative and find options that are quick and easy to eat one handed, but let me tell you, that kid rules this house. Most nights Marshall is working, and it's much easier for me to heat up that Lean Cuisine than invent a cuisine of my own. And on days when I do have time to cook, I've been making the same things over and over. (I did, however, make a pretty tasty pork tenderloin for Easter, if I do say so myself, using a glaze made of Catalina dressing and honey, and a sprinkling of chili powder, garlic powder, rosemary, and something else which escapes me at the moment. It was yummy.)
But tonight, my readers, it was on. I felt the itch. I needed to invent something. But what?
History lesson: Today is Cinco de Mayo. Which, in America, is a holiday where college students and those wild and crazy peeps without kids drink Tequila and Margaritas and Corona and Dos Equis while doing a drunken Mexican Hat Dance in celebration of something or other that happened in Mexico. In short, Cinco de Mayo is an excuse to drink for us Americans. I'm celebrating by drinking a small glass of Moscato. Party hardy.
In honor of this holiday, I invented a new recipe I appropriately call "The Chixican Hat Dance." It's a skillet dish (my favorite), and is not very healthy, but very, very tasty. And of course I made enough for a small army so we have plenty of leftovers for the next night or so. Here's what I had.
~ 1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1/2 inch wide strips
~ Taco seasonings (I make my own out of chili powder, ground cumin, paprika, garlic powder, and minced onion
~ 3/4 cup water, divided
~ 2 cups white rice, cooked
~ 1 cup thick n chunky salsa (I use medium)
~ 1 cup Frozen bell pepper strips, thawed
~ 1 can whole kernel corn
~ 1 cup Shredded Monterey Jack or Cheddar cheese*
And here's what I did.
Heat a small amount of oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken and cook 10 minutes, turning the chicken strips every few minutes or so. Sprinkle with taco seasonings and add in 1/2 cup water. Heat to simmering, turning chicken strips every few minutes. Once chicken has finished cooking through (approx. 5 more minutes), remove chicken from skillet. Reduce heat to low. Add in 1/4 cup water, white rice, and salsa. Mix together. Add in pepper strips and corn. Mix together. Place chicken on top. Smother with cheese and serve.
The finished product, which is tastier than it looked.
It's nice to get back to doing something I love!
* I put one cup of cheese, but I just sprinkled over top to cover. Use as much or as little as your heart desires!
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