I've never gone 4 weeks without updating. I've gotten a few e-mails and Facebook messages from some of my loyal readers wondering, "Hi, are you still, like, alive?" Indeed I am. Just nothing good to write about, and I figured my endless battle with all things medical was getting a little too heavy for blogging, so I gave it a break. How sad that, in these 4 weeks, nothing exciting has happened, nor can I come up with anything fun/funny/witty to write about? Ick.

Updates, then, in bullet fashion:

• Savannah turned 9 months old on February 15th. Where the hell did those 9 months go? Ohhh, I know....I was so consumed with feeling like poo and trying to figure out what the hell is going on with my body that I've essentially missed my baby girl's first year. Fabulous mothering on my part. In any case, she crawls faster than I can walk. She pulls herself up on things, cruises, and is probably seconds away from walking. Lord help me. She laughs when I use a firm voice and/or her full name in an attempt to stop her from eating random things off of the floor or from attempting to climb the stairs. She claps, says "dada" and "yaaaaay," waves, and makes these awful noises that would make one assume she is part pterodactyl or part short-wave radio. She has never wanted anything to do with baby food, commercial or homemade, and can now out-eat her brother at any meal. No teeth yet. Typical girl attitude is already present, and I can hardly wait for the teen years. She adores Nat and follows him around wherever he goes.

• Nathanael is days away from turning 28 months but already has the personality of a sixteen year old boy. I hate the terrible twos, and from what I've been told it only gets worse. He has completely abandoned the idea of napping, so coupled with his attitude you can imagine that we have some ugly days. He loves to draw, and is actually quite a good artist for a two year old. He's smart and a bit of a smartass, proudly identifies letters of the alphabet whenever we see them out and about. Adults who don't know him compliment me on his vocabulary and manners and knowledge...even if he does pronounce peanuts as "penus."

• Me, I'm hanging in there. Medically, we're still trying to figure things out. A recent MRI of the spine and cervical spine showed that I have bulging discs in my neck and back, as well as a condition called spondylosis, which is essentially osteoarthritis of the spine. What's causing it is yet to be determined, but cervical spondylosis can cause headaches and vertigo, and so I'm in physical therapy two days each week to try to alleviate symptoms. For the first two weeks I felt like a million bucks, but some of the symptoms are starting to return and I've had an increase in neck and back pain, so if those two instances are related I don't know. My physical therapist is wonderful, though, and I'm hopeful that with her course of treatment I'll get to feeling better soon. Some muscle relaxers and a vacation wouldn't hurt the situation either.

• Hubs turns 38 today. That seems so old to me even though I'm 32. We're approaching the 11 year anniversary of when we first met. He had just turned 28 and I was 22. Only 11 years ago? Seems like it has been at least 25.

• I live about 15 minutes away from where Continental Flight 3407 crashed. Scary and tragically sad, and my prayers went out to the victims and families, but it's all people could talk about here. Everyone seemed to have a story of how they knew someone who knew someone who should've been on the plane. Like 9/11 all over again. Like everyone felt the need to have a piece of the tragedy. I don't get that.

And that, dear readers, is the last few weeks in a nutshell. I appreciate all the messages concerning my presence on the planet. I was just trying to spare you all from yet another boring and piteous blog entry.

Enough

I had my appointment with the third neurologist this morning. My primary care doctor suggested that I see this neurologist in light of the continued headache and vertigo as well as the progression of some other symptoms. While I didn't walk out of his office today with any kind of concrete answers as to what, exactly, is happening with my body, we did formulate a plan and will see what happens from there. Yahoo.

Starting today and for the next 4 days, I will be receiving an intravenous infusion of methylprednisolone and magnesium to reduce and kind of inflammation that may be causing the headaches. If this 4-day infusion works, then he will be forced to look in a certain direction for a cause of these headaches. I will have to go to an infusion clinic for 2 hours a day while this medication drips into my veins. Because my husband works and I won't leave the kids with anyone but family, I have to go at night, missing dinner and bedtimes for both kids. This better work.

I also have a prescription for Valium, 2 mg, to be taken 3x/day. Valium is apparently the drug of choice when treating vertigo. I'm a little leery of taking it, but he asked that I give it a try for 2 weeks. We'll see.

Doctor wanted to repeat a spinal tap. Remember how I had a spinal tap done in July of 2008? How it was supposed to be done to rule out MS way back when? Yeah. A MS workup was not performed on the fluid. I'm a little upset over that, because the experience was awful (took the jerk 4 full pokes to find the right spot), and because it was supposed to be performed to rule out MS. The kicker is that the doctor at the time TOLD ME that the tap ruled out MS. This is why I have little faith in the medical system. I wonder if I could sue him for fraud? In any case, I told him that I'd prefer to avoid a repeat tap based solely on my experience from last time, and he agreed to send me for non-invasive tests that may also indicate MS - a VER and a BAER. One tests the eyes and will indicate visual deficits, which I have begun to notice, and the other tests signals between the cochlea and the brain. If these two tests come back with negative results, I will likely follow the doctor's suggestion of having the tap repeated.

Finally, I have a test tomorrow called a TCD. It's essentially a sonogram of the brain, and will show live-action blood flow. It will be performed with a bubble study to determine the possibility of emboli from the PFO. I thought that MRA/MRV would've ruled this out, but I guess not?

I'm praying that these tests and medications will provide relief and assist in eliciting some answers. I really am so tired of all of this. Savannah will turn 1 in May, and it makes me sad to think that the majority of the first year of her life was spent like this.

Update

I received preliminary results back from the brain scans I had the other night. The MRA (magnetic resonance angiogram, looking at blood vessels) and MRV (magnetic resonance venography, looking specifically at the venous system) both came back negative, which means that no small clusters of clots and no aneurysms were observed. There was apparently one area of the MRV that wasn't of good quality so I have to go back in tonight to have that part repeated, but I'm guessing nothing will show up. So this is good news.

Back to the drawing board. I see the third neurologist in about two weeks. He's also a headache specialist, so if he can't come up with anything then we'll proceed to the Cleveland Clinic to take the immunology route. I refuse to believe that there isn't a reason for feeling this way, and I"m not about to resolve to spend the rest of my life feeling this way. No thanks.

Thanks for putting up with my posts about medical issues and the worries that accompany the issues. Your comments, prayers, and Internet presence actually do mean a great deal to me.

Yesterday I learned that I have a PFO, or a small hole in my heart. In the 4 or 5 prior echocardiograms that I have had, this has never once shown up.

But now tonight I am scheduled for a brain MRA and MRV to determine whether or not I have had any TIAs, or, essentially, mini-strokes.

I have a blood clotting disorder. I have a history of blood clots to the lung. I also have several brain MRIs that have shown white spots. White spots = strokes?

I'm scared. I can't stop having visions of leaving my babies long before I'm ready.

Bye-bye, 2008

I can't believe how quickly this year has passed. I spent the first half of it pregnant, and the rest of it feeling like crap. I'm hopeful that 2009 will bring nothing but good things to our family. We're starting to head in the right direction financially, which is a huge weight off. Progress, albeit slow, is starting to be made in terms of my mysterious health issue. I've been referred to a third - THIRD - neurologist after a VNG revealed that my chronic vertigo is most likely the result of a CNS issue. Fab-u-lous news, no? Good news is that things like tumors and aneurysms have been ruled out several times over. I think my PCP's still thinking that I may have MS. This new neurologist is (allegedly) an expert, and *the* doctor to go to for MS symptoms and treatment. So we'll see. Not that I want a diagnosis of that or anything in that spectrum, but an answer, if it ever comes, will be so nice. My PCP is also arranging for me to be seen at The Cleveland Clinic should this new neurologist not have any new insights. That also leaves me hopeful that an answer will be found.

2009 will be the first year out of the last few years that I won't be pregnant during some part of the year. Bittersweet realization.

2009 will bring our 7th wedding anniversary. Hubs turns 38. I'll turn 33. My babies will turn 3 and 1. It will also bring my 10-year college reunion. Yikes.

2009 will hopefully bring nothing but great change for this country. I look forward to 1/20 with both excitement and trepidation.

2009 better bring with it some pretty serious weight loss. Hashimoto's be damned - I vow to lose 50 pounds by the end of this year. That's baby weight from both babies and will bring me back down to my "ideal" weight. I have no idea how I'm going to do it. Finances and lack of any real time prevent me from joining a gym. Well...back up there. We could most likely do it financially. But I feel guilty taking out time for myself to go exercise. Weird, isn't it? It's not enough that I stay home all day with them, but I feel like I'm doing them a disservice by not being around all. the. time. They're going to grow up to resent me for that, aren't they?

2009 holds the promise of everlasting memories. I wish nothing but health and love and happiness for my little family of 4, and to all of you.

May you all have a very, very happy new year!

WWACD

What would Annie Camden do?

Nat has become an incredibly picky eater. He rarely eats what I put in front of him. I'm not a horrible cook. Quite the opposite, actually. He just has set in his mind what he wants to eat, and it's usually not anything near what I've made for lunch or dinner. In his mind, the four basic food groups include bread/pretzels/rice, chocolate, cheese, and noodles. A kid after my own heart. Or stomach. But I can't go feeding him these foods over and over again.

Can I?

Not the chocolate, of course. Chocolate (and any other sweet) is a treat in this house. Not readily available, and not distributed even on a semi-regular basis. But the other stuff? Breads and cheese and noodles? He could eat those every day for every meal.

Perhaps I've been making a mistake in trying to get him to eat what the adults eat. My dinners consist of a protein, a veggie, and a starch. Nat has transformed from a child who would eat anything healthy to a child who takes one bite of everything on his plate and announces that he's done and would like to get down. Put a hot dog or buttered noodles in front of him, though, and he'll clean his plate and ask for more.

So what do you do with a picky toddler? I'm posing this question to the thousands of readers I have (ha), some of whom I know are veteran moms. Do I make two dinners, one for the adults consisting of "real" food and one of which I know he'll eat, or do I continue serving him the balanced choices? My dinner table rule is that he has to try everything once, and if he doesn't like it then he doesn't have to eat it - in that case I'll make him a PB & J or grilled cheese. But he often flat out refuses. So I'm at a loss. Hubs says that he'll eat when he's hungry and to not push him, but I'm the mom - it's my job to push and to make sure I give every effort to take care of him. He's such a little peanut and he needs to eat.

I wonder what Annie Camden would do?

Through the eyes of children

This will be Nat's third Christmas, but the first year he really has much of an understanding of anything related to the holiday. He gets Santa, though, and understands that Christmas is also Baby Jesus' birthday...as much as a two year old can, I guess.
We took the kids to see Santa at a small country store in the area that has the best Santa I've ever seen. Santa comes down the chimney every night. Savannah, obviously, doesn't understand anything beyond the sparkly lights, but it was fun to see her enjoying the twinkling lights on the trees. Watching Nat's eyes light up as he spied Santa's boots dropping from the chimney was enough to melt my heart. His anticipation was very apparent as we waited in line. He was so excited to tell Santa that he has been a good boy and that he'd like some more Cars things for Christmas. He's been spoiled in that he's my taste-tester for every holiday cookie I'm baking, and he'll also get the occasional treat of staying up "late" to watch a Christmas special in his jammies, snuggled up with mama while eating some popcorn we've popped on the stove top. I wonder if any of these things will serve to become one of his first memories. I hope so. I can't recall many annual Christmas traditions from when I was little, so I hope to create many for these kiddos that will help make each holiday extra special. I know, though, that I'll remember enough for the both of them.

I made the decision to move Nat into Savannah's bedroom, which happens to be his old bedroom. He's been having an awful time sleeping lately, and I wondered if he missed his old room, or if he just wanted company. I was a little nervous about the two of them sharing a room, thinking that one would disrupt the other, but so far it seems to be a success. He loves to look across the room and see his baby sister.

In medical news, my PCP has reached out to medical staff in Rochester to see if anything of my case rings any bells with them. Apparently some doctors at the large teaching hospital in Rochester are quite interested, so I'm wondering if I'll have to travel a bit in my continued effort to find out what's going on. Travel + WNY winters = fun.

I'm at an impasse with Christmas shopping. I would love to buy and buy and buy, giving the kids everything they want, but we also want to instill in them the notion that they don't need to be knee-deep in material possessions to be happy. After all, it's not the amount of things that we have that makes us truly happy. So I'm wondering how much is too much. I know some families who give one gift per age in years - so Nat would get 2 following that rule, and Savannah would get - what, half of a gift? I know some families who have their kids make a list, ranking the top 5 items on the list, and more families who save and save and save during the year and then go crazy at Christmas time. Hubs and I don't exchange gifts, so that leaves some extra wiggle room to spoil the kids, but I don't want to raise spoiled kids. It'll be fun to see what ends up happening.

Lastly, I have the Facebook virus, and nothing we do seems to get rid of it. We've tried a gajillion different antivirus programs, including that one we pay $80 a year for, and nothing works. Anyone have any insight?

Pure, unadulterated HELL

That's what our house has been for the last 48 hours.

I decided on Tuesday, after a trip to the pediatric dentist, that the time had arrived to bid adieu to Nat's beloved pacifier, affectionately known around here as "suckah." The dentist revealed that his jaw was becoming slightly misaligned, rated it a 7 out of 10, and told me that if I took it away that day that his jaw would return to normal. If I didn't? His adult teeth would have white spots, his jaw would be unable to return to its original position, and...the worst part? He would shpeak like thish. Okay. 'nuff said. Her advice as to how to deal with it was simply suggesting that the sucker was lost, making a huge deal out of finding it, and telling him that it was gone but reinforce that it's okay to go to sleep without it. Sounded easy enough to me, and he only used it at night anyway, so I didn't figure it would be all that bad.

Oh, how wrong was I. Nat's bedtime is 8 p.m. He didn't fall asleep that night until right before midnight, and then was up again at 2:10, 3:12, 4:30, 5:17, 6:15, and up for the day at 7. He was in an ugly mood all day yesterday, and we figured that he'd pass out at bedtime last night. Not so. Last night? He was up ALL. NIGHT. LONG.

He's upstairs now attempting to nap, wailing for his sucker. I know if I cave in and give it to him he'll immediately fall asleep. It's killing me to hear him like that. I feel like an awful mother, because I took away his biggest source of comfort outside of myself, but it's time, right? The boy has been speaking in complete sentences for many months now. He can recite his ABCs and count to 10, draw a perfect circle - surely he doesn't need his sucker anymore. Right? He'll get over it. He won't hold a grudge against me. He'll still be my baby.

Thankfully Savannah loathes her sucker unless she happens to have a rough night, so it's easy to keep hers out of sight. I feel like I've been run over by a cement truck, though, and can't take another sleepless night. I'm hopeful that tonight will be a little easier, and by the weekend, all will be forgotten. If any of my hundreds (ha ha) of readers have any insight as to how to make this any easier, I would appreciate your feedback. He has his other beloved object, his blanket (Binky), and I thought that Binky would just take over, but I was wrong. I'm at a loss.

I've also realized that my studies and degrees in psychology and all of the knowledge I've acquired is 100% lost on my own child. He knows when I'm trying to psychologize him, and he'll give it right back to me in his own psycho-toddler way. Smart guy.

Savannah is babbling, and she has a sweet, adorable voice. She says dada, but we're not sure if it's intentional or not. She'll say it while looking at Hubs, so it's entirely possible. She also says gee-tee while looking at the cat. Cute.

We had a swell Thanksgiving. Spent it with my parents and younger sister. In a moment of insanity, I decided to go shopping on Black Friday. Both kids were up for most of the night, having been thrown off their schedules by the turkey day travel, so at 4:12 a.m. on Friday I decided to head out to see if it truly was a crazy day. After spending 2 1/2 hours on line at a certain store I've decided that I'll never do BF again. Ever. I had the fortune of witnessing a man punch a woman in the face over a vacuum cleaner. White trash at its finest.

I'm continuing to baffle doctors with the medical stuff. My PCP will now be contacting specialists in every area of medicine to see if something about my case rings a bell with them. He's thinking some kind of chronic autoimmune issue or the possibility of having contracted a virus during my c-section or while in the hospital. So now I have to sit back and wait. It's not fun, but at least I feel now like he's actually doing something more than just throwing random drugs my way. He gets it. Last week he prescribed the Medrol Dosepak to see if it would create a break in the symptoms. I felt 100% better on days 2 and 3 of the prescription, but immediately returned to how I was feeling once I stopped taking more than 1 pill at a time. To me this would indicate that these symptoms are being caused by some kind of inflammation, but I'm not the MD, and I've learned through all of this that most doctors don't appreciate having their knowledge questioned. All I want for Christmas is an answer.

As we're getting more into the holiday season, I can't help but be grateful for what I do have, though. I love seeing Nat getting excited over the prospect of Santa. I love that he gets it this year, and I'm proud that he also knows that Christmas is a day to celebrate the birth of Baby Jesus. For as much as I lament over what I don't have, I'm so incredibly grateful for my little family here. And really, that's all that matters.

Happy Thanksgiving to all...

...and to all a good turkey.

Wishing all of my readers a very happy Thanksgiving. Make you all have plenty to be thankful for. I know I do.

Tagged

I was tagged by my friend Elisabeth. These are fun.



8 things I’m passionate about:
1. Being a good wife
2. Being a good mother
3. Making sure my family is happy and healthy
4. Napping children
5. Getting enough sleep
6. My faith
7. Holiday traditions
8. Cooking



8 things that happened yesterday:
1. Disconnected the Holter monitor and turned it in.
2. Went to a cake decorating class.
3. Went to Target.
4. Made fabulous towers with Mega Blocks.
5. Read some of my new book.
6. Reconnected with a few old friends on Facebook.
7. Made a fabulous dinner.
8. Watched Private Practice.


8 things I do now:
1. Stay at home Mom
2. Battle with my children to get to sleep
3. Worry about way too many things
4. Spend way too much time on Facebook when the children are asleep.
5. Manage the $$
6. Wish I had more $$ to manage.
7. Do a happy dance when both children are asleep
8. Relax when given the opportunity in the afternoons

8 things I can not do:
1. Talk to doctors on the phone. I have some kind of phobia, so I make Hubs do it.
2. Clean the bathroom. It makes me gag.
3. Get through a day without worrying.
4. Get through a day without checking my e-mail and/or Facebook.
5. Eat pork.
6. Drink Bolthouse Farms Green Goodness. Never, ever again.
7. Win at Scrabble, despite my extensive vocabulary.
8. Let a baby truly cry it out. I've tried and failed.

8 things I often say:
1. Go to sleep, Savannah.
2. Don't touch that, Nat.
3. I SAID don't TOUCH that!
4. Hubs, could you (fill in the blank).
5. I love you Hubs/Nat/Savannah.
6. Dude
7. What?/Excuse me?
8. I'm hungry.

8 favorite TV shows:
1. Lost
2. Grey's Anatomy
3. How I Met Your Mother
4. Big Bang Theory



8 favorite foods:
1. My mom's cinnamon buns
2. Lobster
3. A good salad
4. A good bacon cheeseburger with BBQ sauce
5. French onion soup
6. Any sandwich from Carluccio's in Brooklyn
7. Pizza from Lombardi's in NYC
8. My grandmother's pizza/white bread. :(


8 things you may not have known about me:
1. I used to be quite funny. One of my greatest accomplishments, other than birthing 2 beautiful children, was performing on the stage at UCBT in NYC on the same stage as Amy Poehler, Tina Fey, and other fabulously funny people.
2. I've never felt more free and more alive as I did when I lived in NYC. I miss it.
3. I have an inferiority complex.
4. I'm not adept at making and maintaining friendships. I wish I could be.
5. I once marched with Nancy Regan in a Just Say No parade.
6. I sang with Mitch Miller when I was in the fifth grade, and believe there's a record album out there with my voice on it.
7. I was cast in 2 films when I lived in NYC. One was a bust and probably never made it beyond the cutting room. The other was a huge hit, but I wasn't in it.
8. I will never forgive myself for not being able to adequately breastfeed my children.

I quit

I'm depressed. I feel lousy. Every. Single. Day. I was hopeful that a diagnosis of Hashimoto's and an increase in my medication would cure everything, make me feel 100%. Not so. I started at 125 mcg of levothyroxine and wound up with chest pain and palpitations and had the dosage dropped to 100 mcg. I feel worse on 100 than I did on 125. I am still having daily headaches. I've had a headache all day every day for the last 6 months. Add to the mix vertigo, nausea, and the occasional palpitation and shortness of breath, and there you have it - my day. I have so many -ologists under my belt that I'm sure I must've beaten a record somewhere. I'm currently wearing a Holter monitor to see if there is any indication of atrial fibrillation, which is apparently common in patients with thyroid disease. I also have a congenital heart defect which makes me prone to headaches, but one would think that I'd have had these symptoms long before having Savannah.

I'm scared. I'm sad. I feel like I'm being let down. I would love to just wake up one morning and feel good and not be scared and actually have the energy to sit and play with my kids the way any good mom would do. I'm so scared. A good Christian would give up her fear to God and be assured that He was taking care of her and would ensure that she will, in fact, be around for a long long time to see her babies have babies. But I can't do that. I don't know how.

I can't get through a day without crying. Without imagining a horrible scenario that includes my kids but doesn't include me.

My thyroid ultrasound came back negative. That's a good thing and I'm thankful for that. Hashimoto's is really wreaking havoc on my body, though. My hair is so brittle that it's breaking. And falling out. I once had thick, long, luxurious locks. Not so much anymore. My skin is so dry that it hurts to clench my fists. I'm fat. Post-baby fat, and I'm not gaining weight, but the fat isn't going anywhere. From what I've read, it's terribly difficult to lose weight when you have Hashimoto's, despite exhaustive efforts. Fabulous. I feel ugly. I'm forgetful. I usually stop mid-sentence to try to remember what point I was trying to make. I can't remember simple words. Once upon a time I was intelligent. Today? I'm lucky if I can get through a sentence without transposing words. I feel stupid. I'm having horrible mood swings. Worse than those that come with pregnancy. I feel like a bitch, and a horrible human being. I'm pretty sure it's making Nathanael hate me, because he loves to say "No love Mama" and tells me "no kiss" when I try to kiss him. Never did I think he'd break my heart, and never did I think my heart was capable of hurting the way it does when he says those things.

I don't know what direction to turn to next. The PCP says it's out of his hands. The neurologist says that there is, indeed, suspicious material on my brain, but it's not a tumor, it could be MS, but he just doesn't think so. The endocrinologist confirms that I do, in fact, have Hashimoto's Thyroiditis, but tells me that it's incredibly unlikely that it's the reason behind the headaches (despite the fact that I've read on many message boards that people with HT suffer from chronic daily headaches) and says that he's not comfortable blaming the cardiac events on the thyroid. The cardiologist straps a monitor on me, hands me some samples, and ignores my question about a relationship between thyroid disease and mitral valve prolapse syndrome, a condition I happen to have every single symptom of.

I feel lost. I feel disappointed. I know this is not in my head - blood tests and radiological tests are confirming that for me. Why can't we figure this out? Why does every single day have to be spent feeling awful? I can't remember the last time I felt truly happy and was truly able to just sit and enjoy the day, my family, life in general. I pray every day for answers. For a sign that I'll be okay. For some kind of reassurance that I'm not going to leave my children without a mother. But I don't feel like I'm getting anything in return. This is why I left my faith on the back burner many years ago.

I just want to be okay. I want to know that I'm going to be okay. I want to stop being scared and sad and feeling sorry for myself and be the mom that I know my babies need and deserve. I just need things to be normal. I just want to be okay.

6 months

Dear Savannah -

Is it possible that half of a year has flown by so quickly? How can you possibly be 6 months old today? This time 6 months ago, I had just sent you back to the nursery with your daddy for the night, in pain and uncomfortable from surgery, and floating on Cloud 9 from finally getting to meet my baby girl. We hadn't picked your name yet, so we were just calling you "Baby Girl." I had my heart set on naming you Norah, but when you came out you looked nothing like a Norah, and that threw me for a loop.

You amaze me, Savannah. How you function on so little sleep is beyond me, and you are always smiling, always happy. You adore your big brother, and you so badly want to do everything he does. You want to get down and play with him. You want whatever he's eating. You are obsessed with his cup. You watch everything he does, and you look at him with such adoring eyes that it melts my heart.

You are a wonderful eater. Overnight, it seems, you have taken to solid foods with a liking that I've never seen in a baby before. You can't pile in the squash and carrots quickly enough, and you let me know that you're not happy when I don't move fast enough for you.

You are getting so close to crawling already - you can scooch yourself in every direction but haven't officially taken that first crawling move yet. Any day now, though, and Mama's not sure that she's ready for you to be mobile yet!

You love the song "There Was An Old Lady..." and "Hush, Little Baby," and you love for me to sing the chapi chapo song to you while you're eating. You're so silly and so much fun. You're a hit every week at church, constantly amusing and drawing smiles and laughter from the people around us, most often the result of the fabulous raspberries you blow.

You're such a joy, Savannah. You frustrate the living daylights out of me in a way that only a daughter can to her mother, but you have completed our family and I'm thankful every day for you and I love you.

Mourning

The 70-degree weather is finally gone. The above pictures were taken on Friday - today is Monday - and the high had reached 76 in this part of the state. This morning there was snow on the ground when we woke up. Gross. I'll carry fond memories of the warm months of 2008 with me for always. Memories of watching Nat discover bugs and the fun of digging in the mud and playing in his water table and coloring with chalk on the driveway and learning to ride his little bike. Of playing on his outside toy from Gran and Grandpa's Mustache. Of his obsession with spiders and crickets. I wonder if he'll enjoy these same things next year, or if a little bit of that sweetness, a little bit of that innocence will be gone. I'll remember Savannah dozing in the hot hot July heat, outside on her blanket, with the warm summer breeze blowing around her. I'll remember the look of wonder on her face when she first noticed leaves blowing on the trees. The look of determination on her face when watching her brother play, wishing that she could get down and run around with him, too. These kids will never remember the joy they brought me this summer, but I will. For always.

I've gotten some more answers as to what has been causing me to feel awful since having Savannah. I have Hashimoto's Disease, as well as Vitamin D and Vitamin B12 deficiencies. Fun times. I have an ultrasound of my thyroid scheduled for this week because the endocrinologist feels an abnormality, which may or may not be the result of Hashimoto's. This ultrasound will rule out a goiter, nodules, and thyroid cancer. I'm nervous, obviously, but don't appear to have the classic symptoms of a goiter or cancer. I'll just be glad when it's over.

I'm excited that the holiday season is fast approaching. Although he doesn't fully get it this year, Nat will have more of an understanding of the season, and I imagine a lot of fun will be had. We plan to spend Thanksgiving at our home, and then to my parents' home for Christmas Eve and part of Christmas Day. I remember being horribly morning sick during the holidays last year, so it will be nice to just be able to relax and have fun and enjoy everything this year.

On a side note, please don't buy Yogi Tea Green Tea with Pomegranate. It tastes like feet.

Birthday weekend

How a 2-year-old's birthday can turn into a weekend-long event is beyond me, but it did. A good time was had by all, though, and that's all that matters. The actual birthday was on Halloween, and he was greeted by Cookie Monster blue streamers hanging all over the house. After a breakfast of homemade birthday waffles, it was time to open presents. If there is a diecast Cars car he doesn't have I'll be shocked. It looks like Disney-Pixar threw up in my house. Mack the Truck was a favorite gift as well. We went to Chuck E Cheese for lunch - our first time there - and seeing his little eyes light up when we went in was worth the obscene amount of money they charge you for food (and I use that term loosely) and tokens. Dinner was at home, followed by cake #1, and then we sat outside and handed out candy to the trick-or-treaters.

Birthday party on Saturday, held at a children's museum that he loves and that we have a membership to. Family and friends came from all around to help us celebrate. Nat had a blast, but I have to say that the highlight of the day for me was displaying the Cookie Monster cake I baked and decorated. :)

The celebration seemed to continue yesterday when we decided to bid adieu to the Zanzibar jungle themed bedroom and turn it into a Cars-themed big boy room. Oddly enough, it was that process that made me realize that I can't really call him a baby anymore - even though I will - and that he is, in fact, a big boy.

Some pictures:

Last day as a one year old!

The cutest scarecrow ever

Mmm - birthday waffles!

Quite possibly the best pumpkin I've ever carved.

Cookie Monster cake for party day

The favorite CEC attraction.

Digging in the rice table at the museum w/ Auntie Alex

Making a wish while blowing out the candles on party day.

Savannah and Daddy at the party

And today you are two

Happy second birthday, Nathanael!

I can hardly believe that you, my baby boy, are already two - you're not a baby anymore. You're growing up to be such a big boy! You've been so excited about your birthday all week, proudly announcing to anyone and everyone that you were turning two.

I hope that this next year of your life brings you as much joy and happiness as this past year seems to have brought you. You are so loved, and I want you to continue to know and feel that every day.

You are such a blessing to our lives, Nat. You are sweet, kindhearted, sensitive, loving, SO smart and SO very funny. You bring a smile to my lips and heart all the time, even through your tantrums and emphatic strings of telling me "NO!"

I love you. You're so very special to me, and I love you more and more every day. Off you go, and off you grow....but stay my baby a little longer, okay?

Happy birthday, my Natty. My lovey dovey. My handsome handsome. I love you.

Our first family picture

The stuff my nightmares are made of

Or, my own personal Arachnophobia.

These dudes were living on my mailbox until my brute of a husband came home and made them ex-spiders. I hate, loathe, and despise spiders. They scare me. As Nat would say, they give me the "heebie jeebies" and "creepin' willies." So when I walked outside the other day to retrieve the mail, imagine my horror when I saw these 2 evil creatures guarding the mailbox. It made me throw up in a mouth. My skin is crawling as I type this while looking at the pictures. Creepy.

Seriously, Calgon, please take me away.

I'm pretty sure I've been in hell all week. The children are driving me nuts. Remember when I wrote a few posts ago about having an occasional bad day, the kind of day that made me wish for a job again? This has been that day. Times 7. All week. Every last minute of it.

The "terrible twos" have officially arrived at our house. I'm so over it. I'm tired of being told no by someone half my size. I'm tired of watching him throw himself on the floor when he doesn't get his way. I'm tired of having him shove his plate at me when he doesn't approve of what I've cooked for dinner. I have no idea where the attitude came from, but it got to the point this week where I was giving it back to him. Counterproductive, yes, but I reached the end of my rope by Monday afternoon. I'm ready to check myself into rehab just to get away from my kids.

The girl child? Forget it. She's at the top of my list. She discovered how to whine this week, and while it was cute for, oh, the first five seconds, it's annoying now. To the point where I want to rip my ears off just so I don't have to hear it anymore. She's currently refusing to take her bottle unless she's sitting in her car seat. That's fine, unless of course I'd like to be doing something with my other child so that he doesn't feel alienated or neglected or like I don't love him anymore. I saw a doctor this week who asked if I planned on having anymore children. I laughed like a maniac. She probably thinks I'm nuts. Truth is I'd be nuts to have another child. I don't think I'm a capable mother. I don't think I'm a good mother. How can I be? It's not normal to feel this way.

Speaking of not normal to feel this way, the answers have begun to arrive as far as my health is concerned. After having 19 vials of blood drawn a few weeks ago at the order of my new neurologist (he was, I'm assuming, testing for everything under the sun), the doctor tells me I tested positive for thyroid antibodies, which most likely means that I have Hashimoto's Disease. No big deal to me, as I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism last year. I'll now be seeing an endocrinologist to confirm the diagnosis and he'll dig a little more to see if there's anything else auto-immune going on. A few other things popped up on the results, but I'm not sure what, if anything, it means. I have a brain and spine MRI scheduled in a few weeks, and we'll see what, if anything, those show. In any case, I'm thankful that we're finally figuring something out. I'm so done with feeling lousy.

I'm addicted to Facebook. Seriously, OCD-addicted to it. If I'm lucky enough to have both children napping at the same time, I'll be on Facebook looking to see if everyone I've ever known in my life is on there, too. On Facebook and want to be friends?
E-mail me at mama_worrywart at yahoo dot com. For those of you who have my other e-mail address, please continue to use it, as this is just my blog-related e-mail.

I'm no maverick, dontcha know. *wink wink* You betcha!

I worry about the future of this country. Not for myself, but for my children. Oh - and hers, too.

Inspiration, aspiration, consternation

Nat is 23 months old. Tomorrow, actually. I can't believe he's almost 2. Maybe if I don't think about it it won't happen, and he'll stay my sweet boy forever. Poor baby has a bad cold. Both kiddos do, but he's especially cute because he's so stuffed that "mama" is coming out "baba." Yesterday, he was pleading, "Baba, fix duffy dode." Translation? Mama, fix stuffy nose. Cute.

I'm in a bit of a state of confusion lately, hence the title of this post. From the day I found out I was pregnant with Nat it was agreed upon between Hubs and I that I would be the primary caregiver, the one who would forgo furthering a career to stay at home to take care of the children. I planned to return to work when Nat was in school full time. Getting pregnant with Savannah delayed that plan by another year or two. I have days on which I long for the opportunity to return to work. I don't have a specific job to return to because I've not worked since we moved to the Buffalo area, but on the occasional rough day I would run back to an office and try to mend the hearts and minds of troubled youth in a flash. Until recently.

My children are inspiring me to become a better person. I am told that this is not uncommon. They've inspired me to become reacquainted with and more involved in the Catholic church, and in doing so I've become even more inspired to be the best wife and mother that I can be. I love circular effects.

I've had many aspirations over my lifetime. When I was a little girl I wanted to be a ballerina, a nun, and a teacher. When I was in high school I wanted to be a psychiatric social worker. Once I was in college I wanted to change the world. When I hit graduate school I just wanted to make a fat amount of money. It wasn't until I became a mother that I realized just how much I wanted to be a mother. To raise a baby to be a good, well-rounded, honest, loving, faithful, and caring person. Having a second baby doubled this desire and cemented the fact that I was put here to be a mother, specifically a mother to these two children. In the first few months of being a new and first time mother, I lamented over not having gotten as far as possible in my chosen field. I had given up on thinking that I'd change the world. Oh, how I was wrong. I realize today that I'm changing the world in the best way possible - one heartbeat at a time.

I love staying at home with my children. I get looks of pity and disgust at times when asked what I do and respond that I'm a SAHM. They've chosen what's best for them, and I've chosen what's best for my family. It means not having our own home right now. It means having debt. It means not wearing fancy clothes. I wouldn't change it for the world.

I aspire now to be the kind of mom who is always there for her children, physically and emotionally. I'm sure I'll get eye rolls and "OMGs," but are you familiar with Annie Camden, the uber-mom from 7th Heaven? That's what I want. That's what I want to be. Supermom, I guess. Soccer mom and PTA mom and best-bake sale-mom and cool mom all rolled into one. Would my kids love this or hate this? Would they resent me for not working? Would they be embarrassed? I can see it now. Hey Nat, my mom's a doctor or Hey Savannah, my mom's an aeronautical engineer. What does YOUR mom do? My own mom will tell me about my peers who are in the process of becoming doctors or this and that, and after a fleeting moment of wondering if she's as proud of me as those mothers are of their children, I sit back and remind myself that I endured two awful pregnancies and gave birth to two beautiful children, and am doing my darnedest to ensure that they grow up feeling and knowing that they are loved, cherished, supported, and protected. That has to count for something, doesn't it?

Isn't there ANYTHING for worrywarts?

It's no secret. I worry. I worry a lot. Also? I'm a big what-if-er.

I think I've always been a worrier. When I was a little girl, I used to pray hard every night before bed that my parents wouldn't die. Morbid, no? As I got older my worries were typical for my age. Would I ever get a boyfriend? (I did.) Will my skin ever clear up? (It did. Thank you, Proactiv.) What if I don't get into my first choice for college? (I did.) What if I DO? (I hated it.) What am I supposed to do with the rest of my life? (Still trying to figure that one out.) Am I marrying the right guy? (Pretty sure I did.)

Peanut butter just made me gag. Last time that happened was when I was pregnant with Savannah. Those damn tests better have been accurate!

But I digress.

Where was I? Ah yes. Worrying. An art form I've perfected. My worrying didn't hit OCD levels, though, until I had a pulmonary embolism 5 years ago. Then it hit a high, and drugs and CBT didn't do a damn thing for it.

I have a mysterious health issue right now. It scares me. I sought out a new neurologist, and was directed to a man who appears to be the best, in the best practice. I only wish I started out with him. He seems to have an idea of what may be going on. He's running extensive tests - bloodwork and MRIs of the head and spine. Where the other neurologist was only hearing "headaches" and automatically jumped to the conclusion of migraines, this man took nearly 2 hours on our first visit going over my total health history and wanted to know every nook and cranny of my current symptoms. At the end of our visit, he took my hand in his, looked me in the eye, and said, "I don't want you to worry. We'll figure this out." He's got a few suspicions of what this all might be, and while it wouldn't be great news, I am beyond confident that this doctor will take care of me and help me to live a long and healthy life, long enough to hopefully see my babies have babies.

What about when it comes to your babies, though? When is it okay to worry? How much worry is okay? My Nat? He's tired. He's tired a lot, despite his solid night's sleep and 3-4 hour nap. He occasionally has swollen lymph nodes in his neck. We've had him checked by his doctor who wasn't concerned at the time but wanted to keep an eye on him to make sure they don't change. But it's hard for me not to go....there. I know that growing is a tiresome process. Kids get tired. But I know what excessive tiredness and swollen nodes could mean, and it's hard for me not to get into a panic. Hubs gets annoyed with my worries and then makes "promises" that things will be okay. I'd go on, but he reads this blog and I don't have the energy to fight. But it's on blah days like this, though, that I wish I had some real-live girlfriends to sit and chat with, to cry with for a few minutes, and then help me put my happy face on and pretend like I don't have a worry in the world. I've gotten pretty good at doing that lately.

I hope I don't pass my worries onto my children. I'd never forgive myself.