Blessings

I counted them recently; they are vast.

Thursday.

Shower. Shaved.

Library. Good Read.

QT. Water and Hot Tamales (A Fat Free Candy).

Pool. Suntan.

Ham and Swiss. Extra Pickles.

Pure Self-Indulgence. Twing of Guilt.

Stella. Teeth, Soon!

Airplane with Daddy. Belly Laughs and Giggles.

Thursday. Good.

Crazy is OK

Yesterday I finally got my stitches out. It started out like the rest of the days had sleeping, net surfing, errands, but at 2:00 I high-tailed it over to the surgeon’s office.

As I was getting them taken out, my surgeon, an older lady, plump, with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes was talking to me about the difficulties of recovery. She mentioned numerous times my gallbladder was” hot, hot, hot, very infected” so it was a good thing to get out. But she also mentioned that bouts of depression following upper abdominal surgery are very common “So if you have crying spell, feel easily irritated, and/or just plain pissed off and you don’t know why, this very well could be it.”

Ahha!

When I was relaying the news to my mom her comment made me think… “So you’re going crazy, but it’s ok to be going crazy right now, that should make you feel a little better.” Interestingly enough it did. Something goes haywire and you don’t have an explanation for it you only consider your going crazy, but if someone tells you haywire things are normal for about six weeks post surgery, “going crazy” doesn’t seem so . . . crazy.

Depression is a fickle thing in the human life. I think I’m right to guess all of us, at least once, will go through depression spells. We lose a loved one, we get diagnosed with something, we hit our head on the car door after a long hard day a work, or we just drop our phone in the toilet and have no means of communication. Whatever the size of the wave of depression, we all can at least relate to the down-in-the-dumps, hopelessness feeling that is associated with something slightly taboo to talk about.

So I guess my mom’s right; the crying spells, the sleeping 3-4 hours during the day, the lack of interest in things, is to be expected after undergoing two surgeries, diagnosed with hypertension, and delivering a baby in less than a year… Currently (for four weeks) I’m cleared to “go crazy”!

Realization day….

I had a realization that this recovery week might not be 100% physical, but also mental. And I have a feeling Michael and my mom knew that, sneaky.

After the adventure and a night without A/C the morning started off well. It was 10:00 before everyone left so again I was left with the thought not too long to wait until everyone gets home. I dilly-dallied on the internet for some time, until realizing the Facebook status updates had become stagnant and then decided to take a bath. Yes, a good old fashion bath, I turned the water on as hot as it would go, squeezed a much bubble bath as I could, and melted in. I think I stayed there for at least a half hour, the water was chilled by the time I decided to rinse off in the shower, well worth it as far as mental recovery is concerned.

Made myself a ham and Swiss sandwich and ran errands, and by that time it was 2:30. I found myself upset I only would get about a 2 hour nap before everyone got home – again I think this was starting the mental recovery. So I tried to sleep, didn’t happen quite as long as I’d hope. Made a fruit salad and Michael, Stella, and I went to a friends for dinner. Life is hopefully back to normal sooner than expected.

Best part of the day Stella got fussy about midnight and we brought her into bed with us to sleep the rest of the night away. In love! (PS realizing Stella seems to really enjoy her daycare buddies)

Recovery Week - Day One

Yesterday was my first day in my week of recovery. Though it may seem minuscule in the scheme of life, I am still in need of this week, and much recovery.

Michael and my mom did some convincing that Stella should go into daycare for a week. Though I feel like I could lift her and take care of her myself, my second organ removal of the summer and the caring people in my life disagreed. So yesterday at 7:00AM my husband took my Bean to be cared for by more able bodies.

The day started out as I expected, I cried. A lot. I cried because I wasn’t capable of taking care of my baby, I cried because my summer didn’t go as planned, I cried because I had multiple organs removed in a matter of months, which is ridiculous, I cried because I missed my mom, I cried because of the toll these stupid situations are taking on my relationship with Michael, and after I cried it all out I slept. A lot.

I think I would have slept the day away not wanting to be awake without Stella here, not wanting to think about how my plans for the most amazing summer, where we were going to start table food, and learn to crawl, and maybe start saying “da da” had gone to crap. But Michael called about noon to check on me, it was good to talk to him and he convinced me to get up and get out.

Showered and put together I made a taco run, a Wal-Mart run, and little here and there errands. It was good to get out and I was thankful it was late afternoon as I wouldn’t have to wait too long for them to get home. I spent the rest of the day curled up on the couch watching stupid reruns and about 4:45 sat at the window seat that overlooks the driveway. Once I saw the truck pull down our street I ran out to meet them. I couldn’t see, hug, squeeze, smell, and kiss them soon enough and was so thankful they were home at a good time.

Typical night followed with dinner and “night night” and Michael and I laid on the couch with each other and just talked; though thankful for the day to myself I think most of my recovery happened while I was with them.

We are on day two of recovery, started off rocky with no A/C, but my skillful husband was able to fix it (as he’s able to fix a lot of things) so I hope it doesn’t stay rocky.

My Better-Half (The Window Cleaner)

With father’s day in June and another blogger I follow paying homage to their spouse I got on a Michael kick, and figure I should honor it.

Michael and I have known each other for eight years now, married almost four of those years and together nearly seven of them so I figure an acknowledgement is the least I can do. After all I’m reminded daily of the things that would be impossible without him, i.e. Stella. But it’s another take to look at what is actually possible with him.

For instance we were cleaning our house last night and he suggested washing the windows. “The windows?” I thought, are they really that dirty we need to clean them? So I skipped over the suggestion light-heartedly and did something else. However, today the cleaning bug got a hold of me and I started cleaning the upstairs and turned to the windows. I could tell immediately they were dirty when I sprayed the Windex across them. I stood there rather astonished and then noticed how dirty all the windows actually were. So after I cleaned them all I realized with Michael’s help I was able to make a good thing (what I thought was a good thing) better. Though a long stretch for a metaphor, I felt it was a perfect at describing what Michael does best.

He’s able to take a good thing, say me, and make it even better. Just with a little suggestion, and a hard headed lady to actually follow through, it got better.

I lost a lot of my self confidence in college, the one repeated characteristic Michael said made him initially fall in love with me. Somewhere between the mixture of books, heartache, Freshman 15, bad roommates/good roommates, and my parent’s divorce, I lost it. Michael has always been trying ways to help me find it, but I somehow just refuse. Sometimes it’s like the windows acting like I will, but with really no intention of doing so, or I flat out yell and scream a refusal.

My window cleaner, that’s what he is. Truthful, helpful, madly in love with his daughter. Turning to me for the smallest little kiss or cuddle, when I shrug it off. “I’m too tired” the lustlessness is strong with a seven month old in the house. But with each jester, cute texts, sweet touches I grow a little more confident and realize Michael will eventually win me over. I will catch some bug and actually decide to clean those windows and realize how much Michael can do for me.

Maybe I really need to consider my window cleaner’s ability a little more and just try it… After all a little Windex never hurt anyone.