Does Santa give cash?

"When I'm worried and I can't sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings"
                                     -Bing Crosby 

Yesterday at church our Pastor's message was all about giving as God would give. While I will save you the religious details of his message, here is what I got out of it. No matter your beliefs or thought process in life, we are all very blessed in one way or another. I am blessed in so many ways and I am thankful for each one of them.

This time of year it is popular to hear, "Give back!" and "Pay it forward!" I love these phrases and the concept. While I wish they were more of an annual thing, it just makes me love this time of year even more. It makes me want to share in as many ways as I can and it also makes me want to pass that feeling on to my children. This is easier said then done. My children are spoiled rotten, I will admit it. They have no want for anything. Between adoring grandparents, uncles, aunts and friends, my kids have almost everything under the sun. In fact, when starting our Christmas lists this year, my 6 year old asked me, "Mom, does Santa give money?" I was shocked at this question, what child would want cash instead of presents. When I inquired about her strange request, she informed me that, "I want a kitten and since you and Daddy won't let me have one, I want money so I can buy my own. One hundred dollars should do it, don't you think Mom?" Oh my gosh, what have I done? While I was proud that she has figured out that she could spend her money and purchase her own "wants", I was appalled that working for the money hadn't entered her mind. That and the fact that money was also on my Christmas list.

So, change of tactic, instead of cleaning out their closets, clothes bins and toy room alone this season, I would make the kids help me. Then we would go to a local organization home base and drop the goodies off. I wanted my kids to see, not only how much crap they actually had, but also how little others really close to them had.
Yes, it was a total nightmare to get them involved. Sure, they cried and whined when I put toys they hadn't played with in a year in the bags, but they soon forgot that toy when they found other toys that they had been looking for. Honestly, I found toys I didn't even know we had and some were even unopened.  We were able to load up my entire van full of stuff to donate and watching my kids help unload everything was the best feeling. They were able to see what a true need really looked like.

We should give and do good deeds, not because we have to, but because we can. No matter how little we think we have in life, there are a ton out there that have even less. I have my problems, my struggles and my stresses, but I have so many amazing things in my life that I wouldn't trade for those difficulties to go away.
 What do you have to be thankful for this season? How many blessings are out there that have been over looked or hidden by the constant  struggles of every day life?

 I am thankful for the reminder of how much I am truly blessed in life. I will carry it with me through this holiday season and into next year. May I always remember this and be able to pass on the gesture of giving, not just receiving. "Maybe Christmas doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas perhaps, means a little bit more." The Grinch  

23 Weeks: Bubble of Happiness

Not going to lie, I am feeling pretty proud of myself these days. Yes, I know that my circumstances are not normal and I am also aware of how the gender is determined in pregnancy, blah blah blah, this is not my first rodeo. Still, I'm allowed to gloat a little aren't I?
I hope that is a yes, because... I CAN DO IT! My body is actually able to carry A BOY!!!! Annnnnd, not only is he a boy, but he is a healthy and strong little boy. That is the best news in the entire world! Of course, N & R are over the moon, boy or girl, their baby is healthy and that was the best news heard on the day of our sonogram.

We met at the hospital to get checked in and were immediately taken to "The Sonogram Cave" (or so I like to call it). I had been there many times, but this time was by far the most nerve racking. I was really excited for N & R, but I was anxious that after all the sickness I went through, something would be amiss. Bridget, the technician, was a familiar face and I took comfort in knowing that she had been through this with me 3 times before and was "the best" per our OBGYN.
Bridget put on the belly cream and moved the wand around for maybe a second before immediately pulled the wand away from my stomach. "Did you want to know the sex?" Bridget asked sweetly, but you could tell that she was silently praying that we either didn't see anything or really wanted to know. "Yes, we definitely want to know!" we said. Those people that can wait til the baby is born to find out the sex just stun me. I wish I had that much self control to wait on something so major. How do you guys do it?
Anyway, we were a little confused as to why the wand was taken back so abruptly, but as soon as it was returned we understood. There was no doubt that this was a baby boy. N and I were in total shock, but R just smiled proudly. We teased him that I could only carry girls and that he better get ready for tea parties and dress up, but all along he was right. We had to ask Bridget to go back to the gender a couple times and ask, "Are you sure?" We just couldn't believe it!

Baby K moved around the entire time and made it very hard for Bridget to do her job. In fact, he really hasn't stopped moving since. My girls got to feel him move for the first time last night and we immediately had to call N to tell her the good news. I'm anxiously waiting to travel back in town to see them so we can share the baby's movement together.

This part of the journey is the most fun for me. Not only can I feel the baby move, but others can too. The "Name Game" officially starts around this time and I'm not quite as big as a barn (yet). All in all, things are pretty great right now and I will take this moment to be happy. Things are always subject to change, but I like my little bubble of happiness. NO ONE POP IT! 

Diabetes: The Mom Maddening Disease.

It has been scientifically proven that Diabetes is a condition where the body fails to ingest sugars properly. What has not been discovered yet, is that it slowly drives mothers insane. Although, I feel the connection should come any day now.
 I do not personally have Diabetes. I do, however, have the pleasure of knowing the struggles it comes with and the joy of watching my child walk out my door every single day, knowing all the things that could go wrong during the time she is away from me. That alone is enough to drive a person mad, but there are other ways too.

Another reason, you ask? Well, did I mention that yesterday I made my three year old take her blood sugar? Yes,  I did that and then because that wasn't enough, I took her to the doctor and made them test her for Diabetes. Now, I have good reasons for putting my child through this and I am not the mother that cries Diabetes at every turn, but I can say that this disease has made me question every move I make.
Recently, C has been going to the bathroom all the time. Even her teacher has noticed that she will go to the restroom 4-5 times over the two and a half hour school day. This is not normal. It is also not normal to be thirsty all the time or ask for food insistently only to eat half and then say your stomach hurts for the next half an hour. She is losing sleep and has started to wake up more often with a wet pullup. The good news is, she is still gaining weight and her activity level is basically the same.
So, this could possibly be a weather change issue or her wanting to get out of eating or a number of other things. However, when you are a mother to one Diabetic child, your constant fear is that you may actually have two and you just don't know it. You want to save your "Non-Diagnosed" children from what you couldn't save your "Diagnosed" child from. The nightmare of the PICU, the horror of the ambulance ride and the very long and scary hospital stay. You want to protect them from the pain your Diabetic child felt when no one understood what was wrong. In fact, the guilt I will forever feel for not being able to protect my oldest from those terrors still keeps me up some nights. I know there was nothing I could have done back then, I didn't have the information or the insight on what to look for. Now, things are different. I am armed and ready for another strike to my family, but will it come?

These days, we have pretty much settled into our Diabetic, knowledge filled world and are pretty confident in our strides to arm our oldest with the information needed for a full and healthy life. But, have our efforts made us too sensitive? Have I totally lost it?
For those of you placing bets, today is NOT the day they have me committed, sorry.

I am the mother of a Diabetic child and we are forever changed by this disease. It makes us think differently, act differently to a situation and it also makes us do somewhat crazy things, but it also brings us closer in more ways then I can count. I would do anything to protect my children from any threat that comes our way, just like any parent would. Diabetes is one threat we have dealt with before. I don't know the outcome of that test, but I don't care either. If its Diabetes again, I say bring it on. We battle you every single day anyway, what's a little more insulin in our lives. If it's not, then I have put my mind at ease... at least for now.


**Update: Got a call from the doctor's office 24 hours after this was posted. C does not have Diabetes at this time.  Those were the nurse's exact words, "She does not have Diabetes at this time." She couldn't elaborate more on what that meant, it was just what she was told to say. The battle rages on.

My Mommy is having My Cousin

From the beginning, my husband and I have agreed to give the facts and be honest with our children when they ask us questions. Whether its the uncomfortable "parts" conversation or  what it means to be a Gestational Carrier for our beloved cousins. Our girls are still young enough that they may ask a few questions, but once those are answered, they except the information given to them and move on.
I know that will change later on, so I am enjoying it while I can.

When approaching the Surrogacy topic with our older girls (R is only 23 months), we decided to start, as always, with the facts. They knew N & R didn't have kids and they also knew that we love them a ton, so I started with that. I told H and C the story of how N got sick and had to have her uterus removed. C quickly lost interest, but H was very saddened by this and continued to listen. Then I explained that while we weren't going to have any more children, I could still help by putting the baby in my uterus. I told them the doctor takes a piece (or cell) of N and an piece (or cell) of R, the doctor then takes those cells, puts them together and with God's help, they turn into a tiny little baby (or embryo). Once the cells turn into an embryo, the doctor puts it in my uterus and the baby stays in there and grows until its ready to come out.
After my explanation, H only had a few questions.  Is the baby staying with us? and Do I get to hold it?  To this I told her no, the baby wouldn't stay with us because its N&R's baby. We have a family and being a Surrogate is about helping a family that has lots of love in it, but can't have children to share that love with. I also told her that since we were cousins and N&R love us very much we will get to go visit and hold the baby a ton. Just because we decided not to have any more children doesn't mean I don't love snuggling with other people's, I am human!

Later, N bought the girls a couple of children's books about surrogates and their families. One had a kangaroo family and the other had a opossum family.  We liked the analogy of the doctor putting the baby in a pouch instead of explaining to a 5 year old the exact procedure. However, the books were a little too fiction for my "all about the facts" daughter and she quickly poked holes in the "fairy tale parts" of the book. For example, in one of the books it said that the baby was made with "magic and love", to this H said, 'Aren't ALL babies made with magic and love?" Well played kid, well played.
She also didn't buy the part where the "Magical Koala" put a "seed" in the aunt opossum's pouch, H wanted the real story. I just told her that in this story the Koala is the doctor and the seed is the embryo. After that, she seemed ok with the idea of Mommy being a Surrogate and even got excited about talking to the baby, playing music for it and holding it later on. Even though C lost interest in the whole discussion rather quickly, she does love to rub my belly and decorate it with stickers. She calls it "decorating the baby's room". Even R can see that some changes are taking place in our household and mimics her sisters' actions by rubbing my stomach and saying "There's a baby in there!".

While it may be difficult for others in my family and friend circles to understand why we chose to be a Surrogate, my children are fully aware and informed. Its more then that though, they are just as excited as I am. H and I often sit and talk about the fun things we will get to do with the baby and how wonderful it will be to see N&R's family take off. Its a special gift that I can share with, not only N&R, but with my children. It shows them how to care about the ones you love, how to help if you are able and not to judge if someone does something you don't understand.
Unconditional love and support is a powerful gift. It's also something we have in spades, why not share it?

Super Mom is temporarily NOT so super: 13 weeks and counting

Today I am officially 13 weeks pregnant. Ah, that feels really good to say! 
I am FINALLY starting to feel better. More human, less Zombie and I could not be more excited!

As you can probably guess, the last 8 weeks haven’t been my favorite. Sure, I had morning sickness with my 3 girls, but nothing prepared me for this.

I have had ALL day sickness, there was literally nothing in my house that I hadn’t thrown up and I was so weak that moving from bed to the couch was a workout. My husband, who I cook for at least 5 times a week, learned very quickly to not call to ask, “what’s for dinner” and instead calls to ask, “what can you eat today?” Yes, Super Mom is out of commission, proceed with caution or better yet do not disturb at all.

I am so thankful for my friends and family that have chipped in during this hard time. My mom and my Bestie came to stay with us while I got my girls ready to go back to school. My cousins sent home a ton of food and freezer meals so I had easy options for my family. My husband even took me to my moms at one point (a 3 hour drive), just in case I needed to be admitted into the hospital for dehydration. At least there, we would have a ton of family and friends to watch our girls.

Now, things are getting better. I am still sick most mornings and every single night, but there is that time in between that I feel almost like myself.  I cant wait to get back into the kitchen! Fall is here and I plan on cooking and baking up a storm.

During my “down time” people have asked if I ever regretted my decision to become a Surrogate. My response is always the same, absolutely not!

I am still just as excited about this journey as I was before it started. The one thought that gets my through my worst days is the moment when the doctor hands N & R their brand new baby. Boy or Girl, it doesn’t matter. Ten fingers, ten toes and healthy as can be. That image stays with me throughout it all.

Pasta and the Planned Pregnancy

My family lovingly jokes that I am over fertile. At almost every family event there is at least one joke made to this fact. My husband is told not to look at me, because he might knock me up at the buffet, Fertile Myrtle gets thrown around and my favorite nickname is one given to me by my brother, Pasta Sauce or Pasta for short. He figured out early on that calling me Prego was entirely too over done and with that “Pasta Sauce” was born. 

As most of you know, I have three gorgeous daughters, but just like this is my first time being a Surrogate, it’s also my first planned pregnancy. 

Yes, the nicknames and jokes have merit! My husband and I have been fortunate in the fact that we have never had to really plan a pregnancy. They just kind of showed up!

Since it has always been a little too easy to conceive, I worried that I would have a hard time getting pregnant now that all eyes were on me. I know, sounds crazy, but I had my insecurities just like everyone else. Now that everyone is counting on my body to do what it normally does so easily, am I going to be able to do this? What if I used up my special baby making powers?

I wasn’t alone in my fears; everyone seemed to be a bundle of nerves, although I seriously doubt my cousins were worried about my baby making powers being used up. N & R had been down a very long, painful journey for a lot longer then I had been in the position to help and I’m sure were just as worried as I that this new journey was going to another bumpy one.

N and I started our respective medications about the same time, I took a medicine to get my body ready to receive N & R’s embryo at the transfer and N started getting shots to get her body ready for the egg extraction. Once N’s eggs were extracted and R did “his part”, I started another medication to prep my body for pregnancy while the embryos grew in the lab. N & R got daily updates on how the embryos were growing and we talked daily about the excitement of it all.

After 5 days in the lab, a few embryos were ready. N, R and I met early on Implantation Day and nervously awaiting the procedure.  The whole thing took less then an hour and 30 minutes of that was me lying very still to make sure the embryo “stuck”. We talked nursery ideas, told jokes and funny stories to pass the time and when the nurse came in to kick us out, the whole experience felt a little too easy. That  did nothing for my fears, but we went out to breakfast and focused on only the positive.

Waiting 9 days to find out if you are pregnant is the worst! I felt different, but thought it might be my mind playing tricks on me. We were warned against taking an at home pregnancy test, for fear it would show a false positive or false negative. Each day we got more anxious, but we survived the wait and finally the day came!

After getting my blood drawn, N and I went out for pedicures to pass the time. I will never forget nagging the nurses to run the test immediately and begging them to call us right away. I will also never forget the excitement when N’s phone rang, 45 minutes later, in the middle of Wal-Mart’s nail place. I’m sure the pedicurist and fellow Pedi Patriots thought we were insane, jumping around, laughing and crying all at once, but we didn’t care. With a “Hello” and a simple nod from N, our lives changed forever. 
We were having a baby!

Not Your Average Baby Mama

When I was little, besides a brief period of wanting to be an FBI agent, the only thing I ever wanted to be was a mom.

Today, my dreams have come true and I am blessed with three beautiful girls. They bring so much to my life, but I often think about how different my life would be if I couldn’t have had children. 

That reality was unfortunately given to my cousin, N and her husband R. While I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been to learn you will never be able to bare your own children, I can say that if it happened to me, I would not have been able to handle the news quite as well as these two.

N and R had been married 5 years when she lost her uterus to tumors, possible cancer and a bunch of other horrific things.  While I don’t feel like that is my story to tell, I can say that these two are the most amazing, supportive and loving couple I have ever met. Even after all of their battles, they go to every baby shower, ever birthday party and every baptism with huge smiles on their faces and a ton of love in their hearts. I look up to this couple in so many ways and can only hope that after I have been married for 9 years I can say I still love my spouse half as much as they love each other. 

I have known N a really long time, she is my cousin. Actually, her mom and my mom are first cousins and we spent a brief time, when we were young, living under the same roof while both sets of parents were going through a divorce. As we grew, we saw each other at random family events and as adults, N and R moved back to KC where my husband and I lived only about a mile down the road from them.

I first started thinking about being N and R’s gestational surrogate in 2009, but it wasn’t until 2012 that it was actually discussed.

N’s grandmother (my Great Aunt) passed away in June of 2012.  My mother was really close to her aunt, so my mother, me and my three girls (5 yrs, 2 yrs. and 7 mo.) made the 14-hour trip to Sturgis, ND for the funeral. From the moment we arrived my girls were attached to N and R. They chased, played, cuddled and laughed the whole trip with my girls.  It was there that I was sure, I could picture them running around with their own little one and I wanted to help in anyway I could.

I do have to add a quick thank you to N’s and my mothers for getting together, having a few drinks and discussing the details. Neither N nor I wanted to step on any toes and thought it was best to let the other person come to us. If our mothers hadn’t gotten involved, I’m not sure we would have gotten to this point.  How often can you say that and mean it truthfully?

After a year of planning, we are all finally ready! I am both honored and excited to be able to be apart of this amazing experience. I have my beautiful family and I feel so blessed to have that, why wouldn’t I help N and R achieve that too?

The Makings of a Diabetic Diva - My Brave H's Diagnosis Story

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On Friday June 29, 2012 H was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes, but her Diabetic story really started before that.

H has been potty trained since she was a little over 2 ½ years old, but always had problems staying dry at night. I tried to chalk it up to her being such a heavy sleeper, especially because her doctors weren’t concerned. So, we continued with our normal routine of putting a pull up on her each night before she went to sleep.

At her 5^th year check up, I asked the doctors again about her bed wetting because the problem had gotten worse. H started waking us up in the middle of the night because she had wet through her pull ups. The doctors still didn’t show concern and told me that it was quite normal for children to wet the bed until 8 years of age.

The worry wouldn’t go away though, no matter how hard I tried. How could a 5 year old child that pees through her pull up and wetting pads twice per night, even after getting cut off from any liquids after 6:30pm, EVERY SINGLE NIGHT, be considered normal? None of the other parents I’d talked to had been through anything like this before. 

So, for a month and a half more, I was woken up in the middle of the night, EVERY SINGLE NIGHT, to change her wetting pad, her sheets, her blankets, her water proof mattress pad and help her change her pull up.  Every single night.

My husband and I talked about different ways to get her to stop wetting the bed at night, but nothing helped. We weren’t as patient with her as we could have been in the beginning; we yelled and scolded her for not getting up to go. We even started getting her up during the night to go. We would set an alarm and I would go and wake her, which took forever, and drag her half a wake to the bathroom only to be woken up again later to change the sheets. It was exhausting and we finally figured out that she couldn’t control it. Something else was wrong, but what?

We stopped scolding and finally accepted that she might do this for years to come and there was nothing anyone could do about it.  It wasn’t easy, but what else could we do? Her face, when she came in to tell me she wet the bed, was the saddest, most embarrassed face I had ever seen on my child. She was more upset then we were that she couldn’t hold it in at night.

Things continued pretty normally until the weeks leading up to H’s diagnosis. At that point, she was home from school for summer and I was busy running around trying to pack 3 little girls (5, 2, and 8 months), a husband, and a dog for a 9-day trip back home to Kansas City. We were getting all three girls baptized, my husband’s sister was coming home from teaching abroad in Mexico and we had things planned for every other day of our trip as well. 

During that time H became increasingly tired, was constantly thirsty, lost weight and every time she ate would act strange afterwards.  She hadn’t taken naps in months, but during the other girls’ naptime, she would pass out on the couch for several hours, especially after she ate. She had always been a really good eater and continued to be, but would say no to dessert. Whose child are you? We LOVE dessert in this family! She told me it made her teeth and tummy hurt to eat sweet stuff.

She would also become very sluggish after meals. Her checks would turn bright red, like she had been running forever, her eyes would be half closed, and you couldn’t talk to her about anything important because she wouldn’t be able to understand you properly. My husband called it The Zombie Effect.

I didn’t notice the weight loss at first, H is the kind of kid that plumps up a bit for a while and then shoots up really tall afterwards. So, naturally I thought it was something along those lines. I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary until one day she put on her favorite summer dress, one that she wore every week for as long as she could fit into it.  I remember helping her put that dress on, expecting it to look like it always looked, a little tight in the middle, but perfect everywhere else. Instead my baby girl was swimming in that dress. I immediately took her upstairs, measured her against the “wall of growth” (a wall in my 2^nd daughter’s closet that I mark the girls height on every 6 months) Sure enough she had grown, but not enough in a month to cause such a change so I made her stand on my scale and to my horror, she had lost 10 pounds in about a month and a half.  That was the day Hallie got diagnosed and the day our lives became forever altered.

Seeing that change scared me to the core. I called the doctor first; they said that they could get her in after our trip (in 9 days) and to not worry too much until then. Next I called my husband freaking out; he tried to calm me down and said he would try to be home early. In a panic, I Googled her symptoms and after I hit enter the word DIABETES popped up all over the screen in front of me. I laughed at myself because I was NOT going to be the mom that freaks out because of a Google search and rushes her kid to the ER only to be laughed off as a crazy person. So, I called my husband back. He married me (crazy person that he is) knowing how freaked out I get by little things that happen to our kids. So I knew he would be able to talk me off the ledge. But instead of talking me off, he joined me on it. 

As I waited impatiently for my husband to get home, I fed the kid’s dinner and got the van packed so all we had to do when he got home was leave for our vacation. H ate as usual, but declined dessert just like she had all week. When K got home 20 minutes later, she was sitting in her chair staring straight ahead. He tried to say hi, gave her a kiss and asked about her day, but she didn’t respond. “Zombie Effect” he said as he looked at me. He didn’t have to say anything else; we both knew something was wrong. Later in the car he got curious and started calling friends he knew with Diabetes. After that, his curiosity got the best of him and he gave her a muffin to see how she would feel after. Two bites in our daughter almost passed out from the sugar and that is when K started to speed the rest of the way to my mother’s house in Kansas City.

We dropped the two smaller girls and the dog off with barely two words to my family. My mother could handle them and we had to get to the ER as soon as possible. I sat in the back with Hallie and held her, I cried as little as I could, but the emotions were too hard to keep all the stray tears at bay.

A half hour later we were being given the news that our daughter did indeed have Type 1 Diabetes and that their children’s hospital location wasn’t suited for her needs. They needed to transfer her, by ambulance, to the bigger Children’s Hospital downtown.  At this point, I had to make the calls. The one to my mother was pretty bad; I was barely audible as I gave her news. She did the protective mother thing and simply said that we would handle whatever came our way and that I needed to be strong for my baby. I continued by texting my siblings, my husband’s family, my father and H’s paternal grandmother. The last call I made was to H’s biological father, That was the worst one of all.

Our ambulance ride was pretty hard to bear, but the paramedics were amazing. Once the ambulance arrived, two paramedics walked into our room. At the time, H was terrified of men. So, when a 6 foot something, African American man walked up to her and expected to shake her hand and talk to her, she gripped me even tighter. I was worried she wouldn’t let me go, but after just a few minutes, she was ready to ride anywhere with this funny, cool guy. They made me ride in the front seat with the driver, while the male paramedic worked to get H hydrated. My husband drove the van back to my mothers to pick up stuff we would need for the night and then met us at the hospital.  The female driver tried to make small talk to take my mind off of my crying baby in the back, but not much could distract me. Through the small window separating the front from the back, I spoke words of encouragement to H. I hoped they would help her get through the pain but it turns out, at that moment she didn’t need me. The paramedic was distracting her and making her laugh through her tears and at the end of the ambulance ride, she wouldn’t let go of his hand.

Our next stop was the ER; the doctors got caught up with her case and tried again, to get an IV in her arm. After what seemed like hours, they were finally able to find a vein. They explained that she was so dehydrated that it was difficult to get her stuck. That seemed odd to me, because the last couple of months she had chugged water like she couldn’t get enough. They explained to me that since her body wasn’t creating enough insulin to break up the sugars, few nutrients and hydration were getting to where they needed to go. After that, they tried to get a reading on her sugar levels and did a series of other tests. Her numbers were so high that their meters couldn’t get an accurate reading. Since her levels were so off the charts, they decided that she needed to be admitted to the PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care Unit).

We spent the next 48 hours there. She couldn’t eat or drink anything until her levels were stable, so since she couldn’t eat or drink, neither did I.  I slept in her bed in the PICU, held her hand and kissed her tears as they poked and prodded at her. She was so scared and so little, I hated what she had to go through and every time they came in my heart broke that much more for her.  Visitors were limited to one at a time, it would have been two, but I refused to leave her.

K came and went as much as he could, he had the other two girls to look after. Even though my mother and other family members stepped in he seemed to know that since I wouldn’t leave H’s side he would have to play Mommy and Daddy for a while.

I remember walking through the halls of the PICU, focusing on the floor as I walked to the bathroom and back to H’s room. I had learned my lesson the first time, when K forgot to warn me not to look into other children’s rooms. I saw things that would give me nightmares for years to come. Children with tubs coming in and out of their bodies, sick little beings that barely looked human at all. It was so much worse then I could ever describe, the pain in their parents faces were the worst of all. Right then and there, I was thankful my child had Diabetes. It was the first time, but not the last that I would be thankful for that.

After two days in the PICU, H’s numbers were where they needed to be. She had to go to the main floor of the hospital for a couple more days, but we could have more visitors!

Things got harder and easier for us. H hated her shots and getting her blood taken, but we were learning about the disease and the ways to help make this whole thing easier for her. We took 3 classes before she was released from the hospital and 2 more in the months to come. Our friends and family jumped in without missing a beat. They brought presents, meals, fun activities, and watched our children for us. They were lifesavers, as were the people at the hospital. We were so blessed to have such an amazing tool at our fingertips whenever we needed help. The nurses brought movies and games for her to keep her busy and always explained things to H, not just to us. Many of the staff actually had Diabetes themselves and never got tired of the countless questions we asked them.

Finally, after 5 days in the hospital, H could go home. It was exciting and terrifying all at once. We were armed with all the knowledge and tools we would need, but somehow we knew that the road ahead would not be an easy one. There was so much to remember and so much to do, how could this ever get easy? But it did. Time passed and routines were made. We called the doctors many times in the first couple weeks, but after that learned her body and how to maintain her levels.

I think the hardest thing for me to remember is that H’s body is not a machine. I know that sounds silly, but if you think about it, it might make sense. We take her blood sugar and get a number. Based on that number and the amount of carbs she will be eating, you calculate how many units of insulin to give her. Then, when it’s time to check her blood sugar again, she should be within range, right? Sometimes that’s true, other times she’s really high or really low. I blamed myself for every high and every low, thought I was doing something wrong. I used to get so frustrated and felt like I could never get this whole process right. Then it dawned on me. Her body isn’t a computer that you put your calculations in to and everything runs smoothly. Her body gets sick, runs around, plays and uses different amounts of effort. So depending on what her body was doing in-between those blood sugar tests makes a difference on how her levels will be later. I can’t control her body, I can’t make her always be in range. She will go high and she will go low, but I can’t fix that perfectly every time, no one can.

Some days are hard, some days are easier, but I am thankful every day. It doesn’t matter how strong or weak I feel, I can be thankful that My H is still with me and is not only managing her Diabetes but thriving! 

H on her 6th Birthday

11 months and 13 days 

after being Diagnosed

Converting to Donutizm – The Beginning

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As I sat down to write my backstory for my weight loss journey, I realized that everything I wrote down was just an excuse and has probably been heard a thousand times.

I could tell you about how I was always told  I could lose some weight by family, or the diet pills I was on at 17 (at 135 pounds) and again after the birth of my first child (at 170 pounds). I could talk about not feeling comfortable in my own body or that I never have had self esteem. I could write a 3 page blog on how my depression after the birth of my second baby shot me up to 204 pounds and then, after a year of being that weight, decided to do something about it, worked for a month to lose 9 pounds and then found out I was pregnant again. I could also say my body doesn’t lose weight while breastfeeding; I just don’t have that gene. 

Yes, I could say all of those things, but honestly they aren’t really reasons why I let myself get to heavy. I could have chosen to work out more, even in high school. I could have decided I should be loved for me and not for what I looked like, I could have said I don’t care what other people think and lived the way I wanted, but I didn’t. I let others dictate the way I looked and how I felt about myself.  Food has always been my go-to for everything. If I’m happy, I celebrate by eating. If I’m sad I eat my feelings instead of talking them out.

Food and shoes would never leave me or tell me that I wasn’t good enough. 

So instead of boring you with all the poor me details, I am going to tell you where I started, where I’m at now, and move on. Yes, I am taking responsibility for my actions today and continuing on my journey. I know I’ll fall on my face. I’ve done it before and most likely I’ll do it again. But the difference is, I’ll get back up and I will be A Donut!

(Pause for effect) – just kidding, but those words are important, so let them sink in.

I began this journey at my biggest, 210 pounds. It was the beginning of this year, (2013) and my youngest was 14 months old when I heard my best friend would be getting married in June 2013. I was determined to not be that heavy when I waked down the isle as one of her 8 bridesmaids. 

First things first, how do I lose weight?

It’s something I’ve struggled with my entire life and truly had no idea where to begin. I’d tried diet pills, like I said, and had also tried every other fad, quick fix diet out there. However, I hadn’t really tried actually counting my calories, eating right and working out. Well, I’d thought about it and started it for about a month before I got pregnant again, but the whole idea seemed really hard, so why do that when I could lose weight “the easy way”. (I would later come to find, that there is no such thing as an easy way to lose weight, it takes hard work.)

For me, simply drinking a shake or taking a pill with every meal didn’t work.  Now, please don’t get me wrong, if any other method has worked for you, keep doing what you’re doing. I am a firm believer in doing what works for YOU. Wish someone would have told me that a long time ago. I do take peoples advice and turn it into something I will actually do and use, but just because it has worked for them doesn’t mean it will work for you.  For example, my sister in law can say, “I will not eat sweets! I will basically live at the gym and I will not eat carbs!” and just like that, she will go to it and stick with it! That, however, does not work for me. I want my carbs and my sweets and I don’t want to live at the gym.  I do want to lose weight, but I also still want to be able to go out with my husband and enjoy pizza and beer. I didn’t want to become a person that dieted constantly, complained about missing pizza and talked about how much weight they’d lost so far all the time.

In January 2013 I started slow. I counted my calories first (baby steps), which was a lot harder then I thought. Much to my surprise, I was eating so much more than my body needed to every day. No wonder I was gaining weight. I lost 10 pounds in a month by counting calories alone.

Then once I was confident in this new skill, in February 2013 I started eating healthier (yes, I did have cheat days). A fruit or veggie with each meal, no pop, replaced a fruit or veggie as my snack in the afternoon instead of chips or pop, and I watched my sugar intake.

Eating healthier and counting calories rewarded me with the lost of 5 more pounds! I was on a roll, or so I thought. I decided that I next needed to start working out so for the next 7 weeks I worked out 3 times a week, ate pretty healthy (still had my cheat days) and counted my calories. Much to my surprise I didn’t lose any more weight, Ok I lost 2 pounds, but that was the week I was sick and barely ate anything and didn’t work out. Needless to say, I was beyond frustrated. That is when a recent friend informed me that I might not be eating enough calories each day to support my new workout habits. Once I went up to 1325 calories each day, instead of 1200, I started losing weight again. 2 pounds per week and I continued to lose weight. At the end or March 2013, I was officially down 28 pounds!

When Easter hit, however, I was PMSing, about to start my period and munched on way too much yummies over the holiday weekend. Since then, I have had a really hard time getting back on track. I have gained 4 pounds back, making my weight 186 again.

As of the beginning of May 2013, I have started over again. The thing about falling off the wagon is, as long as you get back on you’re still on track. No one is perfect and that’s okay. 

 

The above picture is from August 2012 

The Glow Run

My very 1st 5K

  

The above picture is from May 2013

The Color Me Rad Run

My 3rd 5K

Meet My Lively League!

Me - This is MY year! Its time, its passed time. I want to do it all, and I will. I spent too much time letting my life pass me by and I am finally ready to really live!

I am a twenty something Mama with a hubby, a dog and three beautiful girls.
I'm also a multi-tasker, I don't EVER do just one thing at a time. I have to keep busy, stay on my toes and drive my husband crazy with all my lists. So, in true "me" style I am embarking on several different journeys at once to end up where I have always wanted to be, Happy with just being Me.

K (Babe) – The husband. He is my rock and my other half; he is loving and caring … yada yada yada, blah blah blah.  (insert eye roll)

He IS all of those things and more. I love him dearly, really I do, but he is also kind of like another one of my kids. I always say I have 5 children: my 3 girls, my dog and my husband. He asked me once why I put him last in that statement and the only thing I could say was that if I put him before the dog it would ruin the punch line.

I love him unconditionally, even with all his rough spots (I have a few too).

H – My first-born and a mother hen to the others. She knows all of the rules and rarely breaks them. H is also Type 1 Diabetic, which makes things more challenging, but it has also opened our eyes to so much. She is bossy, but loving and very stubborn. She is, for better or worse, My Mini Me. 

C – My Little Mischief Maker, our second daughter and a bull in a china cabinet. She’s our entertainment more then half the time. C doesn’t stop until she is asleep. She is a dancer, a class clown and as stubborn as they come (See a pattern with the stubborn yet?). This little one is a tornado, monsoon and earthquake all rolled into one. 

R – Two words: Daddy’s Diablo. I love my baby girl, I really do, but she is definitely a little devil. This Daddy’s Girl is ultra sweet until something doesn't go her way and then all Hell breaks loose. R is definitely the baby of the family. Her big blue eyes and snuggly personality make it really hard to stay mad at her. She is very quick to smile, tries to act shy and loves to laugh.

Most of all, R is way too smart for her own good and uses those brains to push me a little more insane each day.

I have an antidote, its called alcohol.

My Captivating Little Con Artist 

Stella – Our 3-year-old Lab mix. “The Middle Child” as I call her, Stella is definitely one of my children (or she thinks she is). She’s my co-pilot on car trips, our protector, my foot warmer and my baby dog. Stella loves everyone, but will be quick to warn you if you’ve gotten too close to her home. She loves the kids, knows to be gentle with them and would follow them to the ends of the earth. She loves us all and we love her. Stella completes our little clan perfectly.

What is a Donut?

Nope, not the food... trust me when I say that I know what the food is.

My kind of Donut came from when my mother and I used to watch a lot of shows together. Even now we watch similar shows and have to call each other when something mind-blowing happens.

During a particular show, in high school, there was a commercial for an online computer game. The object of the game was to throw junk good at models as they came down the runway. Every time you hit one, their body would bulge out where the food hit. This was hysterical to my mother and me. Soon, it became our inside joke and every skinny or in shape person we can across became“a Donut”, as we imagined throwing sugary sweets at them in order to see their body bulk out.

While it is, to this day, still lots of fun to imagine throwing food at people, I have a new fantasy in mind.

I want to be that fit person, I want to be A Donut.