Because what's the point of worrying (said my medication)

If ever I've recognized that my antidepressant medication is working it is the last four months.

Dad had his open heart surgery in February and while I was concerned, I felt like things would work out ok.
I felt this way even when Mom called me back to the hospital because they took Dad back into surgery to ensure he wasn't bleeding.
They were being precautious, not necessarily indicating that something was definitely wrong.
It was better to do this before his breathing tube had been removed.

If ever I've realized my meds work is when Mom told me a few weeks ago that her biopsy came back showing breast cancer.
Unlike the first time, 22 years ago, I didn't go into shock.
I didn't put a hold on my life and plans (which is what I did when D and I were engaged).
At that time, I stopped wedding planning.
I stopped talking about the wedding.
I had to compartmentalize my life because there was no going forward until I knew what was up with Mom.

My ability to just keep swimming probably has a lot to do with being a parent now, too.
(Although I think the medication is the bigger part of it.)
Life just doesn't stop for me because I have three other people whose lives don't just stop.
Since I am the coordinator of and driver for those three lives, I don't get to hole up and die.

Our family has one more major surgery coming in June--my nephew has pectus excavatum and will undergo surgery, a hospital stay, and a pretty significant recovery period.

I am hoping that this completes the cycle of "Stressful/Bad Things Come in Threes."

During all this stuff with my parents, I have been pretty open on social media as a way to keep our family and their friends informed.

These postings present me with a mixed bag of feelings primarily because, thus far, I've had good news to report.
While I know people want to know, and it is easier for me to communicate via social media, I feel a bit of "survivor's guilt."
Dad came through surgery well and has done a bang-up job in recovery.
Mom's node is benign so we expect her treatment beyond surgery should be minimal. (Possibly even just medication.)

Posting something socially as a way to keep folks informed makes me think about the people I know who have had to report unpleasant, scary, and downright sad things about their family members.
I know my thoughts of them are cold comfort.
I don't feel pity, but I wish they hadn't gone through pain.
Of course, we all go through pain.
It is the timing and the specifics of that pain that differs from person to person.

I don't and won't say things like "Praise God" or anything of the sort in relation to my mom's or dad's surgeries.
Or my nephew's.
I have asked people at church to keep them on the prayer list (because I do believe, if nothing else, prayer allows for a sense of community and a show of support).
I'm also "out-there" enough to believe that the energy of combined prayer can have mystical effects.

However, social media easy communication makes me think overthink about what I write when I post.

For example, I have always, always felt horribly uncomfortable with the notion of praising God when news is good.
I don't do it.
I feel uncomfortable when I see other people do it.

Because if I heap the praise on God when all goes well, what do I do when news is bad?
Praise God that this whole mess sucks ass?
Because if we're honest, I'm not loving having both parents deal with such MAJOR stuff within 3 months.

How do I praise God that my dad survived open heart surgery when someone else's dad doesn't?
That my mom's cancer hasn't metastasized when someone else's mother's cancer has?

(I realize faith and logic are not the same things.)
(But I am a logical person, so faith does not come easily for me.)
(I'm not even sure where the idea of fairness is supposed to come into this dilemma.)

Which goes back to my medication, which has allowed my anxious mind to quiet, to find peace.
And that wasn't nebulous floating God from the heavens sending a nebulous floating cloud of don't worry down to me.
That was God in the form of other human beings helping me.
Because praying to nebulous floating God didn't work for me, even though I tried and tried to make it work that way.
For years.
If I believe that each person is uniquely different, then I believe that God reaches us in uniquely different ways, with uniquely different methods and timeframes.
Your way is not my way.
My way is not your way.
Each of our ways is right.for.us.

I just now found this quote from comedian Peter Holmes who used to be an evangelical, and I find this resonates with me. I don't think God is Santa Claus or a Fairy Godmother. He's not going to grant my wishes.

I see God is as awareness. And it's something that we're not equal to, but that we're participating with. And the best chance we have at experiencing it and feeling it is not just having an ecstatic experience. It's finding your dignified, inherent place in its flow, through using myth, metaphor, ritual, chanting, meditation.. We're trying to wake up not just to a new set of beliefs, but to our place in the river. And there's all this resistance. And that's all ego stuff. And there's all these, all these, like, you know, headaches and whatever. And when we're quiet, and when we quiet that stuff down, and we can feel and identify with our piece of "divine awareness" then that's when you'll kind of find your flow.

Seeking the 3rd second opinion

M has had a hole in his eardrum since he was four years old.

Last year, he had two tympanoplasties to try to fix the hole.
Both failed.

The definition of insanity is to keep doing the same thing and expecting a different result, so we've been seeking second opinions to see if there are other surgeries or techniques.

The first doctor we saw more or less scared the shit out of me.
When I asked what might be the reason for both surgeries failing and whether this is unusual, he said, "Oh, some people have that surgery done 20 or 30 times."

It was at this point that my brain.stopped.functioning.

I asked this doctor if we needed to do surgery or could monitor.
He said, "I wouldn't wait until August."
I then proceeded to tell him that we had a vacation planned and wouldn't be able to do the surgery until mid-July.
He said that was fine.

The surgery he recommended involves going through bone (tympanomastoidectomy).

I'm not sure why the two weeks between mid-July and August (which is too late according to him) make any difference at all.
But my brain wasn't functioning well by this point of the conversation, so I didn't ask.

When I told him we were going to seek other opinions out of state, he said, "Oh, I can do the same thing they can. You don't need to go to them."

I didn't tell him that my hope was that they wouldn't scare the bejeezus out of me.

We saw our 2nd-second opinion doctor who told us M doesn't even have to have surgery right now. I liked him, and the surgery he recommended was less invasive than the one the 1st-second opinion doctor advised (medial tympanoplasty).

Today, I took M to the children's hospital out of state to see the 3rd 2nd-opinion surgeon.

This doctor recommended working through the ear canal using pig tissue for the patch rather than M's tissue (so the least invasive of the surgeries).

But he said we don't have to do anything now. AND he said sometimes the body tells you what it needs if we listen.

M is, at this moment, congested due to allergies. He is on allergy shots. Maybe his body needs that hole for ventilation.

Even though I was on the road four hours today, I felt like I had someone break the tie between the two other opinions and bring me a little more comfort that we're doing what is best for M and his ear. 

One reason why I love my dad

My dad and I are as bull-headed as two people come, which is why we butted heads A LOT when I was growing up.

Dad likes things Dad's way, and I like things my way. 

It took me until I was 30+ years old and a mom before I finally felt like I understood my dad as a human being and as a dad. He's a reserved guy, so he doesn't share his deepest darkest fears or dreams.

He's in the hospital now, having had open heart surgery yesterday.

Last summer, his doctor asked him if he'd ever told dad that he had a heart murmur. Dad said no. 

Dad was sent to a cardiologist and after six months and many tests, the doctor determined that dad had a pretty severe leaky aortic valve. Up until December, Dad never had any symptoms.

Even after he developed symptoms, he and mom still walked every day at the mall, taking 3 laps around. Prior to this, Dad walked and went to the gym nearly every day. He also gardens and plays golf in good weather. Dad is not a sit-on-his-duff kind of guy. His doctor said had he been that way, he likely would have had to have this procedure done 10 years ago.

When he had all the pre-tests done, including checking his carotid arteries, the technician said if he was her dad, she'd have nothing to worry about. 

For being 76 years old, dad is in pretty fine shape. 

Yesterday was rough, as is any open heart surgery. 

He had 3 bypasses that the surgeon took care of, even though they were minor (50% blockage). The doctor figured if he was in there anyway and could treat them, he might as well. 

The surgeon also discovered that dad's tricuspid valve was leaking, so he repaired that. 

(Apparently, this happened as a result of the heart having to work harder because of the aortic valve issue.)

Of course, this was rough for dad since he was going through it, but he was being pumped with all sorts of sedating drugs.

My mother was not, and she is so adept at worrying she could win a gold medal if worrying was an Olympic event.

Dad was taken back into surgery last night as a precautionary measure to see if all the blood draining from his three chest tubes was an active bleed. Fortunately, it was not.

D has been up at the hospital with my mom. 

He said they gave dad a breathing apparatus to use to improve his lung function and keep goop from building up. 

The doctor told dad he'd be lucky to get to 500 today.

Dad started breathing and when D asked what he got to, Dad raised his hand up: 5 fingers. 

Don't ever tell dad he probably won't be able to do something because he will then take absolute delight in proving you wrong. 

It got him through two knee replacement surgeries. Six weeks after one of them he was hiking with the family at Empire Bluff Trail in Michigan. 

It got him through back surgery when I was a kid.

It got him through melanoma surgery when I was pregnant with G.

It got him through 20 years of ulcerative colitis and then the removal of his colon when I was newly pregnant with M. 

This determination and pig-headedness are attributes of my dad that have always driven me crazy when they interfered with my own determination and pig-headedness, but when it comes to recovering from surgery and not giving up when you can still fight, I'm so appreciative for it.  

The ear surgery saga

In the grand scheme of all possible health issues M could be dealing with, I am thankful it is this.

I had this same surgery when I was a child.

Three weeks ago, he had medial tympanoplasty, which is a complicated way of saying he had muscle removed from behind his ear and placed over the hole in his eardrum.

He has had a hole in his eardrum for nearly five years, but until this surgery, I didn't realize that the hole was 70% of his eardrum.

At least once a year, we go to the audiologist for specially-made plugs to prevent water from getting into his ear. He has failed hearing tests for years, but we have always anticipated that once the hole was closed, his hearing would return to normal (or very close to normal).

In these three post-surgical weeks, we have seen his ENT three times and will see him again on Monday. M is on his second antibiotic. He has had the graft poked to settle it down and remove pus behind it. He has had boric acid powder puffed into his ear. His eardrum is now purple because Dr. B put gentian violet on it to keep yeast at bay.

And I know that this is small beans compared to a child who has cancer or a heart condition or so many other issues that so many families contend with.

Yesterday, I got the bill from his surgery, which again places me in the position where I am at once thankful that it is a minor issue and horrified at the expense, not only because it is a sizable chunk of change but because my mind goes there.

There is where I think about what could be....another surgery if this graft doesn't hold, all the myriad health conditions we haven't had but could have, all the families whose children have chronic major illnesses who see these types of insurance bills on the regular.

It feels like it could break me sometimes.

Yesterday, I asked Dr. B when he would feel confident that the graft is gonna hold.
Actually what I asked was, "When will I be able to stop taking extra half-doses of antidepressants over this?"
Those are identical questions, really.

Six weeks was his answer.
We are halfway there.

La-la-la, La-la-la, moving right along.....well shit

That is how life works.

There I am, just carrying on.
Busy, for sure.
Two weeks of nonstop subbing.
Now working on a few articles.
Girl Scout cookie time which is one of my many UNPAID full-time jobs.

But I got it.
Everything is busy, but under.control.

We knew M was going to have surgery, provided his eardrum was dry today.
No surprise there.
And it's a minor surgery.
But I was expecting maybe three weeks of recovery.

Not so much.
No sports or PE for three weeks.
Recess...probably not for awhile.
Ear packed for 6 weeks.
Doctor visits every two weeks.
Water restriction for 6 weeks to three months.

I had to come home and reschedule our Spring Break 3-day trip.
Going to a water park is not fun if you cannot get in the water at all.

None of this is life-threatening, life-altering.
The surgery will (hopefully) take and (hopefully) restore his full hearing.
It did for me when I was a kid.

But it marked the wall.
The place where I felt myself give out.
The spot where my shoulders felt heavy.
The realization that the skin on my head actually aches.
I'm tired.

The walking humanized intrusive thought who lives in our house--G--
said, "He'll survive."
But I'm not worried that he won't survive.
(More than just that little naggy worry that surgery comes with inherent risk.)
I didn't realize the recovery slog would be so.....sloggy.

Cycles of family life

There are rhythms to family life especially if you have more than one child.  The iterations of children going through milestones and performances and graduations one after the other, with a couple years or many years scattered between them, provide a routine of sorts.  A feeling of "I think we've done this before."

Our family has had rhythms of sickness.  I suspect all families do.

For a long, long time, we had cycles of surgery.

2006--D had his gallbladder removed.
2007--G was born via c-section.
2008--G had bilateral myringotomy with tubes.
2009--M was born via c-section.
2010--M had bilateral myringotomy with tubes.
2011--M had bilateral myringotomy with tubes, and N had tonsillectomy/adenoidectomy.
2012--Blip year with no surgeries.  Our FSA might have made it to September.
2013--M had tonsillectomy/adenoidectomy and bilateral myringotomy with tubes.
2014--M had bilateral myringotomy with tubes.

For the past 3 years, we've had vacation cycles of sickness/injury.

2014--M developed the ear infection from hell as we began our trip to Sanibel, FL.
2015--D pulled a muscle in his back and got a steroid shot/muscle relaxers while in Orlando, FL.
2016--N, G, and M all had a virus while we were in Michigan.

We are currently in the month-long virus that interfered with Michigan that has both boys on oral antibiotics due to subsequent sinus/ear infections and D down-for-the-count (although trying mightily to work from home).  I keep wondering if I will be the last man to fall or if, somehow, it might pass me by.  I'm not sure what the incubation period is, but I have been breathed on/coughed on for the past month by 4 other people so hopefully I have some kind of super-mom immunity.

It should make me feel better to see a record of these cycles and to remember that we do move beyond them.  Minor illnesses and issues, all, but the repetitiveness of them makes it feel sometimes like it is never.going.to.end.

Bottom of the barrel mothering

Recently I read a criticism of the book Go the F*ck to Sleep which was concerned with its violent imagery against children by their parents.  

Now I pretty regularly read Peaceful Parenting and other similar parenting websites because I strive to be a loving, consistent, decent parent.

But sometimes I have a week like the one I have just had and I feel tremendously proud that, unlike the dad in Texas who abandoned his son on the highway, I didn't abandon my children and strike out on my own.  I only felt like doing so multiple times an hour.  

N had her tonsils out this past Monday, June 27th.  She did really well and by 8:00 that evening was eating scrambled eggs.  She has done far, far better than I expected.  All day today she refused her tylenol/codeine medicine but still continued to eat mac & cheese almost nonstop.  She feels tired and is still camping out on the pull-out sofa all day long, and she doesn't talk much since that causes her discomfort.  But I expected to deal with 10 days of nonstop crying and nearly unmanageable pain.    

Still, she is post-op, and I have been worried about her liquid intake and her pain.  The first 4 nights I set the alarm to wake up twice each night to give her the pain medication (12:45 a.m. and 4:45 a.m.).  Even if your child is doing well, until they are acting 99% normally your hackles don't fully settle down.  

I guess my worry bucket has been a little more full than normal.  Couple that with greatly interrupted sleep for almost a week (since it's not like the boys took a hiatus from waking me up while I was playing midnight nursemaid to N), and you have a grouchy momma.  

My worry has not blinded me to the fact that N is a royal pain in the arse when it comes to taking medicine.  She hems and haws until I nearly have to hold her down to force her to take her antibiotic (which was one of the reasons I wanted her to have her tonsils removed....since she was constantly battling strep and therefore I was constantly battling her to take her omnicef).  I very, very quickly lose my patience because it's not like I have all.day.long to sit in front of her and wait for her to decide she is ready to drink her medication.  

Then there is my son G, who at the best of times I feel like stringing up by his toes.  This week he has been hyped up on popsicles (it is downright impossible to keep a 3-year-old off the stuff when his sister is sucking them down one right after the other) and stuck for most of the day inside the house (since I don't feel comfortable leaving N inside without another adult while she is still recovering).  

Add to that the "baby" who, at just shy of 21 months, is immersing himself fully in the tantrums and head-banging behaviors of toddlers.  

Now combine all that with the fact that I do not do well with lots of time inside the house with my children AND I may be PMSing.

I think in technical terms this is called "the perfect storm."

See ya later, adenoids. After while, tonsils.

N had her adenoids and tonsils removed this morning.  What set her into a bit of a crying spell as the nurse prepped her and us?  Having to take her earrings out prior to surgery.  Fortunately, rather than watching N lose her mind in pre-op, they decided to take them out once she was unconscious in the OR.    Smart move.  Who knew a benefit of tonsillectomy would be getting out the earrings that N refused to allow anyone to remove since she was so scared it would hurt?

Boy, she was funny once she had a little Versed in her.  She was taking her lunch-lady hair net, pulling it over her face and then waving her hands all over to try and figure out how to get out of the "web."  At one point she asked me, "Is this the mall?"

Post-op she wept a little but was mostly sleepy and quiet.  No flailing of limbs.  No screaming or screeching.

Once she was home, she slept most of the morning and then took a late afternoon nap.  N is not a huge fan of sweets, so by the evening I think she was a little tired of jello and pudding and sherbet.  When I suggested scrambled eggs, she about jumped off the sick bed (the pull-out sofa) with excitement.  She is stoked at the possibility of eating overcooked egg noodles in butter for lunch tomorrow.

I will be giving her the pain meds during the night for a few days, every four hours. While I am not looking forward to waking up twice a night via alarm clock,  if it means she is in good spirits and mostly pain free during the day I am happy to do it.  

Does a vasectomy equal surgery?

N is nervous about having her tonsils removed, which I understand.  Surgery is scary in general, and especially when you're a kid.  I told her that right now she is odd man out in the family since everyone else has had surgery.  She asked how many surgeries everyone has had.

I told her that M has had one (ear tubes).

G has had two.  (Ear tubes placed and ear tubes removed).

D told her he has had 2 surgeries.  I knew the gallbladder removal was one, and I thought the other might be something from his childhood that I forgot about.  When I asked, "What is the 2nd one?," he motioned towards his "boys."  

I asked if that counted as surgery since he wasn't out completely; it was only local anesthesia.  He then said if that was the case then my c-sections didn't count as surgery since I wasn't out completely under general anesthesia.  

If his vasectomy counts as surgery, then so does having two of my moles removed since I had local anesthesia and stitches.  And so does having my c-section incision sliced open when it was infected because they used local anesthesia for that and a lancet.   

As far as I'm concerned a vasectomy and mole removal and wisdom teeth removal are "procedures," not surgery.  Anything that involves an actual anesthesiologist is surgery. 

Who's with me?

Surgery #1 scheduled

Yesterday I took N to our ENT with my list of all her strep throat episodes from March 2010 to the present.  I anticipated him wanting to hold off, but he read my information, counted them up, and said, "Yep, she meets the criteria."

And so at the end of June, following our Disney trip, my girl will be the last of my three children to experience a surgical procedure under the care of our beloved Dr. B.

Next Monday, I take both the boys for their ENT check-ups, and I am fully expecting Dr. B to recommend that G have the holes patched in his eardrums and his adenoids removed.  G hasn't had ear drainage from an infection since the fall, which is great, but it also means Dr. B might think G would do well to patch the holes and not require further tubes.

My hope is that Dr. B is willing to continue this watchful waiting because I really don't want to have G have eardrums patched/adenoids removed and then when he's 6 or 7 have to have tonsils removed like N.

I would love, love, love to go one year without someone in my house having surgery.  For many reasons.  The worry.  The cost.  The recovery (which for tubes is nonexistent for but all of the other surgeries we've had or will have is pretty rough).  Did I mention the cost?  And the worry??

(It is all I can do to think through how I am going to manage the boys while N is on the sick-bed for a good 10-days to two weeks, drinking slushies and feeling pretty darn miserable.  I have already begged my mom to come over every day for about the first four days post-op to help me manage.)

The last time someone DIDN'T have a surgery in my household was 2005.

Really, a little surgery reprieve would be most welcome.

Milestone day

This is gonna be short and sweet.....
I've been going since 6:00 a.m.

M had bilateral myringotomy this morning......tubes in both ears.  I am hoping, praying, wishing, wanting and desperately needing this boy to sleep MUCH better very soon.  G began sleeping 8-12 hours a night within 48 hours of his tubes at 14 months.  I know it would be a miracle if M did the same.

And tonight M took his first solo steps from the couch to the coffee table.  He won't be running marathons anytime soon, but I was sure it would be at least another month until he even attempted a hands-free venture.

As usual, being a seasoned parent means absolutely nada in terms of knowing what one's kids are gonna do next.....

Moments of misery (or I'm mad AGAIN)

So yesterday I was mad and realized I was ridiculous (a little).

Today I was even more mad, so mad that it felt like the stress and anger fizzled out all the good stuff my antidepressant does in my brain.  I felt like old Carrie, and that is not a good place to be.  Obsessive to the nth degree Carrie.

I received a bill in the mail from the surgeon who assisted with my c-section on Oct 7, 2009.  This is the FIRST and ONLY bill I have received from this guy.  Saying I owe $750.  What the fuck?  The baby he helped deliver is "this" close to a year old.

So I called the doctor's billing office to see why it hadn't been filed with insurance and explain that, perhaps because it had taken them so effin' long to file it, insurance wouldn't pay.

To make a very long and unpleasant afternoon in my life short, I was on the phone with 2 different insurance companies and the doctor's billing supervisor 3 times within a 2-hour time span.  The doctor has until Oct 7 to get the claim into our current insurance.  And if he doesn't do that, then, technically, he can hold me responsible for the full $750.

EVEN THOUGH IT IS HIS OFFICE'S STUPID FAULT THAT THEY WAITED UNTIL 11 BUSINESS DAYS BEFORE THE DEADLINE TO FILE IT.  (Ok, technically, it was submitted earlier in the year but then the doctor switched billing service companies and then the claim was resubmitted in July.  But since JULY it has been floating out in billing space.  And no one EVER THOUGHT TO SEND ME A FUCKING BILL so that I'd know what is going on.)

Lord knows, I would have been "on it" had I known about it.  I'm sorry that I didn't jot down every doctor and nurse's name in the operating room while my lower body was numb, and I was yakking up the stuff they gave me to "settle my stomach" before they sliced into me.  Oh, yeah and feeling the 8 lb, 4 oz baby kicking at my womb to be let the hell out.

Dammit, I had other things on my mind at that moment in time.

And so, I am sending a politely worded complaint letter (along with a copy of my current insurance card) to the billing supervisor.  As well as a politely worded complaint letter to the office manager.

And you better believe I will fight those fuckers over that $750 if it comes to it.

But dang, I would seriously like for the bitch in me to be able to settle down for like a full 48 hours before I have to go full throttle again.

Hear that universe?????

More about keeping things whole (and critical comments)

As per my usual, reading comments about my Intactivism blog have me thinking....or stewing.  Whatev.

I hope Dooce has a thicker skin than I do.  

So let me be real with myself (and my 5 readers) for a minute.  

Do I think I'm right?  

Well of course I do.

Doesn't everyone think what they do is right?

Do I think other people are wrong?  

Hmmmm.  Now that is tricky.  Because I truly do understand people have different circumstances, different needs, different desires, different personalities.  

And so I don't think of them as being wrong necessarily, but I often simply cannot wrap my head around their choices.  I just don't get it.  

(Exception:  That crazy church dude in Florida who is gonna burn the Quran.  That is wrong and just plain stupid).  

What I do strongly believe is that many, many people are misinformed or not informed enough.  And maybe I believe this so strongly because I, again, simply can't wrap my head around people making certain choices if they had more information.

When I was pregnant with N, before we knew she was a girl, the ob asked if I would want the baby circumcised if it was a boy, and I said, "yes."  Because isn't that what everyone does?  My brother is circumcised, as is my husband.  I never dated an uncut guy, so that was all I was familiar with.

But then I took a childbirth class and started learning about natural childbirth and whatever you want to call that movement of "letting things happen without human interference."  And I started learning that in many, many cases, things will go along just fine if we leave nature alone to do its thing.  

When I found out G was a boy, D and I did some basic research into the procedure and what the benefits are of circumcising.  And we determined that in addition to being painful, it was unnecessary.  D didn't care whether his boys looked just like him....I mean, they all have penises so who cares, right?  

So in my own life, when I didn't know anything about circumcision (other than knowing that all the men in my life were cut), I was going to tow the line and do it too.  But once I got some information, I drastically changed my opinion.  

In the grand scheme of things, snipping off a little foreskin isn't a big deal.  But haven't there been lots of things in society that were once considered "ok" or "not a big deal" that then become HUGE deals?  

And so maybe I focus on these little things, but so what?  Somebody has to.

Once my children grow up a bit and I'm not suckling a baby or looking at little boy penises all the livelong day during diaper changes, I won't have these topics on the brain.  I'll move onto other "small issue" issues.  

But I sure hope that when I die, if part of death is knowing all the answers to everything in life, I hope I find out that my boys get to experience extra awesome sex because their momma didn't snip 'em.  

Intactivism

So anyone who knows me even "this" much knows I am what might be called an attachment parent, a granola mom, whatever.  I am of the thinking that babies do what they need to do, eventually they develop out of some of the more annoying baby behaviors and this "baby" time is super, super short so just go with the flow (with some complaining about lack of sleep to your Facebook friends).

I read a comment on some parenting site that said something like...."the best way to care for your baby is to act as if you would if you and the baby were on a deserted island (so no westernized baby junk within arm's reach)....breastfeed, sleep with your baby, wear your baby."

And I would add to that "don't circumcise your sons."
Sure Tom Hanks was his own dentist in Cast Away and whacked away at his tooth with a blunt instrument, but that was a movie, and he was in pain and couldn't eat.  He really didn't have an option.
But penile skin that is just sitting there.  Not hurting anything.
Well, it should be left alone.

Now lots of people still circumcise their sons, and they are well within their rights.  They aren't asking me to apply Neosporin to their son's mangled penis or foot the $200 bill for the procedure, so I shouldn't really care, but I do.

The reason I care is because parents need to be FULLY INFORMED by their doctors as to the considerable risks and limited benefits.  They need to see the contraption that holds their baby down.  They need to watch a video of the procedure before it is done on their child (just as men have to watch a video of a vasectomy before they give their informed consent.)

And after all this, they still feel strongly that it is what they want for their child, then I am a little more "ok" with their decision.

But I feel quite certain that most people who make this choice for their sons don't give it even a minute's thought.

A day of unexpecteds

Today wasn't a bad day, really.  Very busy.  Full of unexpecteds which, for me, is emotionally draining.

G had his 6-month ear-tube check.  I thought, "We'll go in, the ENT will have a look-see, and then we'll be on our merry way."  This is pretty much what happened, but I had surgery scheduling in my lap for the afternoon.

It turns out that one of G's tubes has come out of the eardrum but hasn't fallen out of his ear because it is apparently imbedded in another part of his eardrum.  The doctor wants to get it out so it doesn't become infected or anything weird.  And since it is embedded, to try to remove it in the office would be painful for G.

G still has a hole in the eardrum from the tube, but we are just going to leave it alone for now.  The concern is that if we patch the hole now and in 3-6 months he begins having recurrent ear infections (which I think would happen), we'd be looking at another surgery right on top of this one.  We may still be looking at a surgery to close the hole eventually, but not until he's 5 or 6.

For the moment, the other tube is fine, but the doctor may decide to replace it once he's in there and can see it better.

Last week M had croup and is still not acting right, so I asked the ENT if he'd check his ears as well.  I hated to make a special trip to the clinic for nothing.  But both of M's ears are infected, so I had to make an afternoon appointment to get some antibiotics for him.

Bookend doctor visits with 3 kids will wear a girl out.
Toss in between those some shopping to buy an Ergo carrier and groceries.
A recipe for catatonia by 8 pm.

Snip and tuck

Ok, I wasn't in the room, so I don't know if anything was tucked, but things were snipped today.  Hubby is "recovering" in the basement.  How bad can it possibly be, though?  His X-box, not having to contend with the kids, narcotics for pain.  And I'm trying to leave him alone and be nice.

I'd say it is almost a little slice of heaven for him.

He knew he would get no sympathy from me when I suggested the other day that afterwards we could compare scars.  Mind you, I appreciated his anxiety over the "Friday procedure" and knew it would cause discomfort.  But I've made my mental list of all things reproductive with which he and I have had to contend throughout our relationship.

ME:

• Pap smears every year since age....18, I guess.  Nothing like having your innards mangled by a speculum.
• Birth control pills every single day and all the moodiness/nausea/loss of libido that ensues from those.
• Morning sickness 3 times....the longest bout lasting a full 11 weeks.  The others ranging from 4 - 7 weeks.
• Being induced with pitocin and laboring unmedicated for 8+ hours.
• Having my clitoris tear during delivery (I kept saying I felt myself tearing to the doctor and she was like, "You're fine."  Yep, my perineum was fine.  The upside was SOOOOO not).
• Numerous ovarian cysts when coming off birth control in an effort to conceive G.  
• Having an excruciatingly painful external cephalic version performed on me to try to get G out of breech position.
• Cesarean section to deliver G when ECV didn't work and 6 weeks of recovery.
• Cesarean section to deliver M and 6 weeks of recovery.  
• Infected c-section incision following birth of M, requiring lancing of nice pus bubble.
• Enduring bleeding and cracked nipples 3 times for up to 3 months while getting breastfeeding established.

HIM:

• Two little incisions on his testicles requiring 2 days worth of pain pills.

Yeah, no sympathy from me, baby.

Tying things up???

I keep thinking I don't want to get my tubes tied when I have this baby in October. Last night I tried to explain my feelings to D, and he said I wasn't making any sense. Of course it was late, but I have to admit my sentence, "I know I don't want anymore kids, but what if something happens to #3?" isn't particularly well thought out.

So let me see if I can clarify my feelings for myself (and for him since he reads my blog). Isn't it sad how much of what I think my hubby learns from my postings?

I am totally good with 3 kids. I know I don't want 4, or 5 or anything beyond 3. BUT tying tubes 10 seconds after birth is scary because so much can (or could) happen to a newborn. Yes, the list I'm about to provide is worst case scenarios, but they live in my brain so they get a voice on this particular post:

1. What if the baby gets swine flu (which may or may not have a resurge in the fall) and succumbs?

2. What if baby dies of SIDS at 3 months old?

3. What if baby has some weird endocrine disorder and doesn't thrive beyond 4 months?

4. What if any of these aforementioned scenarios occur, and then D dies unexpectedly, and I meet someone else when I'm 39 and want to have another child?

Realistically I know that nothing can replace a child who dies. But I also suspect that if something happened to my child, especially an infant, I might want the option of trying for another child at some point before I go through menopause. Not that I would choose the option, but I'd want the option nonetheless.

The idea of tying things off permanently minutes after birth when I'm weepy and emotional does not sound like a good idea to me. I don't think I want to experience the joy of new motherhood with the potential worry (and potential regret) of being sterile. I know how my brain works, and I know which would would seep into my conscious mind more often. I do a poor job of handling mixed emotions at the same time, so walking headlong into it seems dumb on my part.

So my thinking is that when baby is 3 months old, hubby consults with urologist for the snipping, and then gets it done when baby is 6-7 months old. Because by then, I will be less emotional, be headlong into caring for 3 children (and therefore really mentally prepared to be OVER IT), and feel more comfortable that baby will probably survive its first year and beyond. Plus, in my experience, nursing a baby constantly the first 6 months does NOTHING for my libido.

And I will be that much closer to 37 years old. And given how much extra checking I've had to go through with this "geriatric pregnancy" I feel certain I don't want to do it again (unless said worst scenarios occur).

D didn't want 3 kids (although he is excited now about our surprise baby), and under no circumstances wants anymore....with me or anyone else (although I have a sneaking suspicion if I dropped dead and he married Miss 24-inch Waist and Big Tits who really wanted to have a baby he would comply immediately). So since he is TOTALLY certain, I think he should take the permanent precautions.

Because I am sick of being pregnant and feel 99.8% certain I don't want to do this again, but that .02% will bother me forever if I take permanent measures while I'm on the table watching the nurses clean up my baby.

Full of holes

Well, G is, at least.

This morning he had bilateral tubes put in to hopefully reduce or (if we're super lucky) eliminate his chronic ear infections. As friends had warned, he was absolutely out of it upon returning to us from the recovery room, but after a nap at home, he was ready to eat and play for a bit. He is napping again as I type this.

The doctor said G did have fluid in his ears, but no infection. Of course, as far as I'm concerned, it was only a matter of time before another round of antibiotics. G started sounding congested yesterday, so I wasn't at all surprised to hear there was gunk in there.

While I didn't white knuckle it during the surgery or in the last few days, I did sleep horribly last night, even with half a Unisom.

I dreamed that D, N and I took G up to the Cincinnati Children's Hospital (I honestly don't even know if there is such a place, but that's where we were in my dream). And we were having to go into all these different rooms, down long corridors, even getting back in our car to drive to another building in an attempt to register G. There were huge long lines of parents with their children, waiting for the next available surgery window. N was bored and acting out, nearly getting hit by a car at one point when she jumped out of our car.

Suffice it to say, I was unconsciously worried about today. My dear friend K called last night to check in on me and offer to bring a meal to us tonight. What a doll! Considering how poorly I slept last night and how tiring it is to try to hang onto a 14-month-old coming off anesthesia, I am glad I accepted her offer.

One thing I have wondered during all this is whether other parents stew over stuff as much as I do or do they just go, "Ok, needs tubes. No biggie." As I told K last night, I just have to go through a certain amount of "try everything under the sun to avoid surgery." I did it with my c-section when G was breech; I did it with ear tubes.

It would be nice to take things in stride a little better, and, believe it or not, I do compared to how I would have handled this in my life pre-antidepressant. While D and I were waiting today, I started thinking about folks who have cosmetic surgery, not because they got half their face bitten off by wild dogs, but people who just want bigger boobs or tighter abdominal muscles or no crow's feet.

I will go to the grave with my tiny boobs, flabby abs and a whole flock of crow's feet. Rode hard and put away wet.

To tube or not to tube?

We saw the ENT today about G's chronic ear infections. He said G definitely meets the criteria, which is 3 ear infections in 6 months. G has had 5 ear infections in 6 months, and 1 infection per month since September.

His ears were fluid-free today, although I would expect this since he has only been off Augmentin for 2 days.

I went ahead and scheduled the surgery for Dec 2nd, but I still feel a little uncertain, and it's mostly due to incomplete information.

Here's the deal:

1. We could just watch and wait. My gut tells me G is not magically going to stop having ear infections, especially since it is cold/flu season. But I guess it is within the realm of possibility that they could decline in frequency.

2. If we watch and wait, and he continues down the path of monthly ear infections, we will eventually have to go to antibiotic shots, which are painful and sometimes require multiple trips to the doctor's office.

3. We can watch and wait, and still think he needs tubes in February or March. I know for certain I will not go another 6 months with monthly or every-other-month ear infections.

4. We will not know what D's health insurance will be for 2009 until Dec 15th. It will probably be worse than what it is now. We have already met our $4,000 deductible for 2008, so doing surgery in 2 weeks means we pay 20%. If we wait until Jan 1 or later, we will pay 100% and who knows what our deductible might be. (Even more than infections or surgery, I really HATE having to think about costs, but I simply feel we have to consider it in our decision-making.)

5. We have a strong family history of ear problems. I had 3 sets of tubes, adenoidectomy, and then a final surgery to repair the hole in my eardrum that wouldn't heal. My dad has ear problems. Both of my brother's sons have had to have tubes due to chronic ear infections.

6. I can't help but wonder if G's poor sleeping isn't due to fluid in his ears, even when he doesn't have an active infection.

I dislike the idea of surgery, but I also dislike the idea of antibiotic overuse.

And while surgery is costly, taking G to the pediatrician for ear infections is costly. It runs $78 per ear infection visit, and $50 for ear-recheck visit. The antibiotics have ranged in price from $4 to $71. And up until this month's infection, we paid 100%. So ear infections thus far have cost us between $500 and $700.

So I guess I am to the point where I feel tubes are the best option for G. Continuing ear infections and doctor visits start to wear on both a child and parent after awhile. But I still can't help but worry whether this is the best decision. Such is life.

What would YOU do?

Life advice by Kenny Rogers

Just a bit ago, my mom took N to the park. G is sleeping, so I decided to scrub the master bath. And I mean scrub. After using the wire bristle brush to clean paint residue from my basement bath, I decided to use it to scrape out 7.5 years' worth of soap scum. I am ashamed to say it will take another few cleanings with the brush to get the stuff. My arm simply cannot do anymore today.

While scrubbing, I started thinking about taking G to the ENT. He has another ear infection. His 5th ear infection in 6 months. His 3rd type of antibiotic in 3 months. As much as I hate the idea of surgery, I think tubes might be the best bet. This thought occurred to me after G's 1-year-old well visit, when the doc said he still had fluid behind his eardrum, that his speech and hearing could potentially be impaired, even if he miraculously stopped getting infections.

I do not like the idea of surgery. When I found out G was breech, I took lots of steps to try to get him to turn and avoid a c-section: laying upside down an inverted ironing board, seeing a chiropractor, and undergoing external cephalic version. None of these things worked. I had to accept that and move on.

With G, he has family history stacking his odds in favor of tubes. My dad has ear problems to this day--he had to visit his dr. again when he 1st antibiotic didn't clear up his recent ear infection. I had ear problems as a kid (3 sets of tubes). I can shove JuicePlus down my son's throat all day long, but I cannot fight genetics.

So while I was mulling all this over while cleaning the john, a song popped into my head, a song so appropriate for our visit next week to the ENT and the prospect/likelihood of tubes.

You've got to know when to hold 'em.
Know when to fold 'em.
Know when to walk away,
And know when to run.

You never count your money
When your sitting at the table,
There'll be time enough to count 'em
When the dealin's done.

I wonder if I will ever get to a point in my life when I know when to fold 'em without first staging a massive battle between me and forces beyond my control?