on cancer and death

I posted about Amy Wilhoite not too long ago--a woman of deep, abiding faith dying of cancer. On Monday, she went to meet her Lord and as her husband said, received "Ultimate Healing". (If you click the link with her name and scroll down, you can read her husband's touching words regarding her last day in two short posts). My heart has ached this week. She was younger than me, and had a one year old little boy and a husband whose love for her was so huge and strong. She had a large family who cared endlessly for her as well. I followed her blog from the first week she was diagnosed and it was a heart wrenching journey to say the least. If I recall correctly, she never actually achieved remission in the year and two months that she fought this cancer.

Her battle reminds me of my mother-in-law whom I've spoken of a few times. She, too, died of cancer leaving behind small children who have no real memory of her. I have felt cheated in some ways that I never knew her. I do believe, having known her brother, sister and parents, that I would have really enjoyed her. I cannot imagine what my husband and sister-in-law have felt over the years.

And these thoughts of cancer and my mother-in-law bring me full circle to think of Giddy, her mother, who is dying of the same cancer. Over Labor Day weekend, Giddy was given 24 hours at most and hospice was coming every day. A week later she was put in the hopice care center as that was the best choice for keeping her comfortable. And now, days later, she is still just withering into a wisp of a person, rarely concious and rarely able to recognize her own daughter. She has not eaten in two or three weeks and her breathing is slow and paced by a minute at times.

These days are hard and emotional and so tiring. We are trying to leave for our trip to Disney later this month and I hardly know how to feel--I'm excited and looking forward to it, yet full of anxiety and nerves. Will we go on the heels of a funeral? Will we have to cancel or return early for a funeral? Some of these thoughts also bring a load of guilt, that I'd even consider such things! I do know we are in need of this time as a family since the summer turned into workfest for my husband while I sat around miserably unable to eat and too tired to tidy (thankfully, right before I got pregnant, a lot of things around here had been in very good shape, but it still adds up fast).

The truth is, the Lord knows her "appointed day" and that is a settled detail for Him. I need not worry or be anxious -- I am just cycling through what would be PMS if not for the very real fact I have a kicking little boy in my belly (and I still have less appetite than I expect, but at least the ill feelings have gone at last).

And so you have all my reasons for being Oscar the Grouch this week. (Oh, all that and two mini-Oscars that live in my house with me. But at least they're cute and loving the rest of the time....hahaha!)

something new

Yesterday, I ventured into unknown territory. Well, for me at least. I did something I’ve not done before, and I have to say I enjoyed it. Thoroughly. Okay, I expected to enjoy it. I still think I’d have been fine not doing it.

But, I am savoring what happened. You see, I had an ultrasound. That mid-way ultrasound everyone anxiously awaits because they HAVE to know what gender their baby is. I’ve never found out until now. That’s right. I did not know Little B was a boy, nor did I know Miss C was a girl until their births…and my mother’s intuition is pretty far off since I expected the opposite both times. The suspense has never bothered me, I’ve never had gender preferences, and I’ve rather had fun letting everyone else agonize over not knowing what I’m having.

This time, I told my husband he could decide if we found out or not. He never missed a beat when responding: “Okay, we’re finding out!” (Though, wonderful man that he is, he was willing to let me change my mind if I really didn’t want to know.) My mother was ecstatic since she’s begged me to know beforehand “so I can plan”. I’ve enjoyed the suspense in the past, but this time around, I am going to call my baby by name and pray for it by name in the remaining months. And I can tell I am already bonding a bit more, even in the few hours since I’ve learned what I’m having.

It’s also good for Little B to know so he can prepare although we did warn him that there’s a small chance they’re wrong. We had some very hurt feelings that we did not decide to go with his original name suggestion, but . . . well, while I liked it, it just wasn’t a go for us. You know?

And so, without further ado…wait – should I tell you now or another day? I could make you guess! Though I suppose that’s harder to do since most people want to check out the belly in person before guessing.

I will start by telling you this: My pregnancy is somewhat different this time compared to the first two.
I want sweets (a very bad thing!) which I’ve never wanted before.
I have a lot of trouble getting enough sleep at night which is a first.
I have migraines which I had with Miss C.
Until two weeks ago, I believed I was having a girl (mostly because of the migraines which had gone away completely while pregnant with Little B and did not return until he was almost one) at which time I decided it’s probably a boy, but I have no reasoning or logic for this; I always go back and forth a bit.
I truly had no preference.

So, settle in your minds what we’re having….got it? Be ready to tell me your thoughts so I hear the fun of people guessing, okay? And since you are being so kind and let me have my fun and teasing, I will go ahead and tell you that we are indeed having another little baby. Yes. A baby. A sweet little baby! I’m so excited. And we’re not going to call it “It” for the next few months because he has a name already: Baby J.

Gotcha.

(And this is a really, really good thing since I swear we’d have been in the hospital with baby name books still searching for the elusive first name to go with our almost settled middle name had this child been a she instead!)

peanut

I am a total glutton for punishment. I mean really.

I was hanging out with my mom Saturday, doing a spot of lunch, a bit of shopping. With my children in tow, of course. She needed to stop by the pet store for turtle food, which is a stop my son adores, but never gets to do with me because Miss C will typically get a few hives there due to her dog and cat allergy. Yes, even without touching the animals.

So, I struck a deal. Miss C was almost out for the count in her car seat, and I was craving a decaf latte (yes, straight up, no sweeteners, no flavorings--they're best this way); Starbucks shares a small parking lot with the pet store. How terribly convenient. So, I waited in a long line (this location is older and lacks the lovely drive-thru feature) for my latte and a pumpkin loaf while my mother and son patiently waited their turn to have an indulgent stop in the pet store. I sat sipping my lovely drink, eating generous pinches of my dessert and chatting with a friend on my cell while they took their time and Miss C slept on. Ideal, really. I was quite content and enjoying myself thoroughly.

Then, as I hung up the phone, I glanced in my side view mirror and saw my son and mother arriving. They were approaching my door, not the one for my son to get in. So, I rolled down the window. Big eyes peered up at me, so incredibly full of hope and expectation that fear began at my toes and worked it's way up. "Please, can I have a hampster???" Uh. . .uh. . .Apparently he'd just seen one giving birth and fell in love with the whole hampster world. Oh Boy.

"Well, I don't know if this is a good time for it..." I began. Now, my mom had already warned him the answer might be "No", but the tears spilled over and the frustration set in. I explained I couldn't make that decision without talking to Daddy. I explained that we didn't know if Miss C would have an allergy. We discussed the fact that they don't live long lives and it will die at an unkown time. We talked about the fact that he would be responsible for it, not me. And that if it's not fed and cared for it will die sooner not later.

Oh, and he wanted a girl "So it will have babies." Uh. . .

Turn my head and die laughing while my mom gloats that it's finally struck me what he's been specifying. So, I had to explain that babies need daddies, just like him, Miss C and the new baby we're having...there's a daddy. So, having a girl hampster doesn't mean we'll have babies.

We at long last settled on getting a book to learn more about hampsters and their care. Right. My mother did let me know that apparently there was one for adoption (read: free, but she was offering to foot the bill anyway so that wasn't exactly the issue at hand), and the lady in the store had mentioned it which was probably encouraging my son's desire for a new bet now.

The trotted off to find a book and become informed on the hampster up for adoption.

I called my husband to make a joint decision. He thought it was fine. I kinda did, too. Little B has been very willingly feeding the birds anytime he's reminded for a copule months now. He enjoys it and loves that it's part of his job (that started at his request). Granted, he doesn't typically remember on his own, but does not complain when it's brought up. I'm impressed, and just fill in when I forget to have him do it. He's also greatly improved with keeping his room tidier, and we've been very pleased.

My mother and son arrive back at the van beaming--remember, they were supposed to find a BOOK about hampsters. My mother about burst as she told me the hampster for adoption was so friendly, so sweet, so cuddly. . .and practically perfect for a first pet. By this time, Miss C was awake and I reluctantly loaded her into the stroller a pet store adventure (and yes, she came out with the requisite 2 or 3 hives).

First, we checked out the hampster and it was everything my mom said and more. I let the lady know we'd take it--a female hampster no less!--but kept Little B on his toes about my indecisiveness for a few minutes longer. Cruel mother, I am. As we perused the hampster aisle I explained our reasons for allowing him to have a pet hampster (all the aformentioned responsibility stuff). He was so beside himself!! We got it all. . ."ham-trac" (the traditional ball with a track for it to race on!), cage, food, bedding, etc. Now, we've had to set rules for having a grown-up around when the hampster is handled since he was easily about to get carried away with the in and out stuff.

And, he has announced to a room full of people that his new hampster, "Peanut" will be having babies. . . hhhmmm. . .

Welcome to the family, Peanut.

"long" time coming

Over the weekend, I treated myself to something I was long overdue for. I had been waiting for this intentionally and with a purpose, not depriving myself. In the last few months I was beginning to feel a lot of anticipation since I knew the time was drawing near. I wanted to give a part of myself and it took over two year's patience to be ready.


In order to fully appreciate what I am about to share, I believe I will post pictures so that you can see for yourself what I have labored to do and give. Believe me, the temptation to give up was strong at times, especially in the heat of summer when the weight of this could no longer be held up by the usual means I had.




I must admit, I have always like the color of my hair, even the texture. It's thick abeit fine, but my problem was how stinkin' straight-as-a-board-with-no-body it's always been. Even as long as it got to be, the fineness of it would make it slip out of a french braid! I've longed for curls my whole life--yes, the grass is always greener. I've even been known to perm it, but that's so not the same. My last real haircut was shortly after Miss C was born, a little over 2 years ago. I had the remains of a grown-out perm still above my shoulders, so the inch or two that was trimmed off definitely wasn't promoting length. Indeed, I grew all of that in little over 2 years (I think the few months of pregnancy helped push it along this summer, though!).

As I sat in the chair, somewhat unsure of what I wanted, just knowing "wash and wear" always has been and always will be my motto (I hate blowdrying it and while a touch of product now and again is all right, the fine hair on my head doesn't hold style the way many women's can), I told the lady how my hair has no body, blah blah blah. I said to keep it simple, some long layers to give it a bit of psuedo-body, not shorter than chin length. I've liked that on me before, so figured it would go well again.

Knowing I wanted to donate my hair, she sectioned it off so as not to "waste" any by putting it in a single pony tail. And then she began to cut (bye-bye tangles and excessive conditioner!).














Yes, a full 11-13 inches are gone. (The minimum accepted is 10 inches.)



The stylist remarked that my hair had more body than I was telling her. In fact, it showed signs of curling, though not "curly". The small hairs at the nape of my neck were definitely not plainly straight. Well then. That suited me just fine. She said either pregnancy or age can change one's hair. I'd heard that, and while it isn't drastically different, I'll take all the body I can get in my hair (and elsewhere for that matter...my figure is typically "straight" as well--when not pregnant!). In short order she was done. I felt lighter, cooler, and happier (I'd been grumpy earlier in the day, not to mention nervous since I was trying a new hair salon that was not exactly what I expected compared to their website). Literally, she did not "style" my hair (and I washed it long enough before the appointment for it to have almost completely air-dried). And I loved the way it looked. It was perfect just the way it was, definitely fuller than I remembered, and I still can't stop running my fingers through it. I'm a happy lady, I tell you!!





(Yes, that's my belly at almost 19 weeks. . .)


Locks of Love

aw, nuts!

Today, we had a routine allergy appointment for Miss C. We recently had an oral challenge with eggs that showed she had “outgrown” this particular allergy, and it’s made a lovely step toward “normalness” in our meals. I can now feed her French Toast and scrambled eggs, add egg to our pancakes and cake mix, and it’s one less ingredient to watch for when purchasing food for our home.

Dairy, we still avoid; she still gets a red hive or two if we touch or kiss her after we’ve touched or consumed dairy (even cream in our coffee…thus our switch to soy in our coffee, which has definitely grown on us and we now find ourselves preferring the soy!). Today’s appointment was to do another skin test for dairy, thereby confirming that it’s worse, the same, or improved. It’s essentially the same for her, which looks like a massive welt of very noticeable proportions after the allotted 15 minutes go by. Poor baby.

But we couldn’t keep it simple, could we? I had developed some suspicions about peanuts and Miss C not going so good together. As in, she’d accidentally had a granola bar with nut flour, and did fine, so was told to go ahead and let her try peanut butter (because she had other allergies, we were originally told to wait on nuts and shellfish; we’re still waiting on the shellfish, which they’ll include in a test next summer). The peanut butter attempt so did NOT go fine. She began scraping at her tongue within 2 bites, and crying. I tried this on two or three separate occasions in case it was a texture or taste issue (she is accustomed to Sun Butter and Soy Butter {blech} which seem similar in texture, though). Anyhow, I requested a testing of peanut today since I didn’t want to take any chances. And don’t you know the welt was quite similar in size to the dairy one.

I find this far more alarming than a dairy allergy. Indeed, they give me the standard printouts about the allergies in question, as well as what to know about anaphylactic shock; the dairy information was familiar, but not scary. The peanut one began with the all-caps sentence: THIS ALLERGY CAN BE EXTEREMLY DANGEROUS—SOMETIMES FATAL. Yeah, let’s scare mom more than she already was.

Extra precautions I get to take note of? Oh, when a product says it has been manufactured in a plant with peanut products, 10% of the time it is contaminated; I need to avoid these. I need to make doubly sure I have my daughter’s Epi-Pen available at all times. Should I get rid of the peanut-butter my son is so very accustomed to (and I won't even go into the potential trauma this could cause since PBJ is THE standard in his lunch box and new foods are only sometimes an okay thing with him)? Well, it wouldn’t hurt. I’m just hoping the transition to Sun Butter isn’t too painful, because I really feel compelled to make that switch. I already try not to dip the PB knife in the jam, but nobody’s perfect.

I feel an underlying sadness and stress in this. It’s one more hurdle to jump, another food issue to learn around (more specifically than simply not introducing it), and one more concern when dining out.

a little magic

Where have I been? Well, not too far away, really. Online more than usual (ahem, much more. . .). Just not here. I have been visiting Tour Guide Mike. A LOT. Mike tells me everything I need to know these days because, see, we're going to Walt Disney World (and yes, Mike's for real; we've used his site twice quite successfully). Yes, indeedy--and we’re going SOON (as in next month). In fact, we're just planning to take Little B out of school for a week so we can go during slow season. Is that really worth it or necessary? Well, in my book, he'll be doing his school work anyway, this time of year is THAT much better (less than half the summer crowds kind of better), and what's life if you can't throw in a tad bit of "extras" like missing school for fun? Not regularly, of course (I take school very seriously), but once in a blue moon. He just gets five blue moons in a row this fall.

Now, I’m busting to tell you a secret. We're not paying for it. Nope. A few extras, yes, the whole trip, no. When my loyal husband reached the ten-year mark working for his company recently, they awarded him a free vacation. (Yes, anyone who reaches ten years gets one, but still. . .) There were several package choices but nothing overly appealing since we wanted to include our kids and didn't want to pay extra for them. After some brief discussion, we very happily began our planning to the "happiest place on earth". We'll pay for the stroller rentals, a couple of meals, and souvenirs. THEY will be flying us down for seven nights, to enjoy seven days in the various parks, and seven days of meals. Oh, and trip insurance, heaven forbid we need it.

Why now? We like the slow season--really like it; the baby is due in January which would be our first choice of dates (it would be cooler versus still sweltering and we’ve never gone then, though we are September veterans); and we didn't want wait a whole year to take a free trip. How anxious would that make us feel? Besides, we'll go back eventually. We always do. ;)

Undoubtedly, you will hear more from me on this topic. I am not a person who must own tons of Disney paraphernalia (some souvenirs, though I’m not a Disney-store-a-holic), but I do love a good trip to the World with some catering-to that they always provide. And talk about catering to. . .with advance notice, the allergy issues with food will be total non-issues. A couple phone calls and they simply accommodate, end of discussion (now THAT makes a good vacation!). They truly go out of the way to make the trip “magical” and fun. I love that.

school days, school days

Little B met his teacher today (she seems really nice) and starts first grade on Thursday! Sniff, sniff. Well, actually it's not as emotional as it was last year (thank goodness) but he's grown so much. It hadn't even occurred to me until we got to the open house, but he's a lot taller all of a sudden; two people commented on how much he's grown, and I was noticing the same thing while they said it. Wow.

Along the same thread of thought, this year Little B will have the opportunity to carpool in the mornings with a little girl down the street who was in his class last year, and we've played with them several times this summer. In the afternoons, they will both ride the bus home from school. Not a bad trade-off; I'm happy with it. AND, by catching a ride to school, he can do his therapuetic listening in the car anytime he hasn't already done it when it's time to go. This can potentially allow for a bit more rest since he can just get ready, eat, brush teeth and leave, versus fitting all that in and around 30 minutes of listening time (some things can be done at the same time, some things not so easily). Thank you Lord!! It will make my mornings that much less stressful, and with a new baby coming, less stress is a very good thing!

That said, I have a question to throw out. The lady (well, friend) driving him will be coming a whopping 8 houses down to pick him up four mornings a week (not on therapy days, which will still interfere with school, but so be it; that cannot be helped), driving one daughter to pre-k and then taking her other daughter, along with Little B, to the elementary school. I know it's hardly extra distance, but I would like to give her some gas money. I don't feel to give her a lot, and I doubt she'd take it, but considered even ten bucks (fifteen, twenty?) every few weeks/once a month. Does that seem too much, too little, a good amount? Does anyone have thoughts on this? I don't want to be insulting, and I don't think she expects it at all (and will possibly refuse it), but I would like to offer something. I very much appreciate her willingness to let Little B ride with them as well as the opportunity for him to do his therapuetic listening in their car (she'd have to keep the radio off, but he can chat just fine during that time; indeed, very little ever stops him from chatting since he never runs out of things to say! haha!).