Tag: mom

Why Are Some Good Things So Bad?

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Last I wrote, I was dealing with a new Rheumatoid Arthritis diagnosis. I am still learning to live with it- the pain, the swelling, the exhaustion, the compromised immune, the medication…

I’m also learning how to live with RA and PCOS.  Sometimes the medications interact in not so positive ways.  Since July, prednisone has been the only means to a semi-normal life. However, it comes at a cost. Besides the mood swings that accompany steroids, I have gained 25 very unwanted and unneeded pounds.  Like most cysters, I struggle with my weight.  Before July, I was in a good place.  My PCOS was under control, my meds were finally “figured out.” I was happy with the course I was taking, and I was ready to focus on my weight.

Then…BAM!  I literally could not walk. Some time after, prednisone made me feel amazing.  What a miraculous little pill. Then…BAM BAM! Another flare up, and this one was worse than the first. No problem! Just take more prednisone. And here we are, 25 pounds heavier. I’m uncomfortable, and believe me, I am accustomed to uncomfortable.  PCOS has left me bloated more often than not. My clothes no longer fit. My face is round and puffy. I’m unhappy.

WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! There is a silver lining. I have almost completely tapered off of  “mother’s little helper.” Wish me luck!

No Apologies

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I usually apologize or make excuses for when I go months without writing. But, I’m a full-time working mom with a lot of shit on my plate.  So there’s my excuse.

For the past 23 years, I have lived with a somewhat invisible illness.  PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) is not invisible to the millions of women who fight it everyday, but to those who do not carry the diagnosis, we “cysters” are seen as fat, lazy, balding, bearded, and depressed.  I have told my story on this blog before, however, I have recently been diagnosed with an autoimmune disease that is causing pain and swelling in my joints, as well as sucking the little energy I had left after the PCOS was done with me.  I thought it was time to add my two cents into the Invisible Illness discussion.

Since I was 16, I have known what it is like to hate the very essence of yourself. I look at myself everyday and check to see if another pound has joined my once “healthy” frame.  I study my scalp to see if any hair has fallen out or if any new ones are finally growing. I inspect my face for hair that needs to be constantly plucked. I walk around with my abdomen so bloated and swollen that strangers ask when I’m due.  (This especially sucked when my husband and I suffered a miscarriage, had to endure copious tests and invasive procedures, and were considered infertile for years at a time- thinking maybe my 50-70 day cycles meant I was pregnant, and then being heartbroken with every negative pregnancy test.) On any given day, I’m smiling through stabbing pain  in my ovaries as the cysts/follicles that canvas them grow and shrink due to unstable hormone levels.  I have dropped to my knees as cysts burst. There are days when the slightest movement can bring tears to my eyes.  I know the embarrassment of “menstrual malfunctions,” because your period is insane. I know what it’s like to have my body produce too much insulin, not break down glucose, and yet irrationally crave carbohydrates.  I take two different medications daily in hopes of managing my hormones, insulin, and excess testosterone. I have lived with PCOS for 23 years, and I know how it feels to be shamed for having the above mentioned symptoms.

Last October, what seemed like a pretty low-key injury triggered my immune system to go into overdrive, which lead to my recent diagnosis with Rheumatoid Arthritis. So, I also now know what it is like to have such intense joint pain that you simply cannot get out of bed. I know the desperation felt when  your immune system attacks itself. I know what it feels like to have your body so confused by its own failings.  I am experiencing first hand, the ups and downs of prednisone and the never-ending trial and error of finding the right medication. I know the sadness in your children’s eyes when they ask if you can play outside with them, and you have to tell them “not right now.” I know the disappointment in your husband’s face when you walk through the door and he’s hoping to see you not limp.

I am writing this not for pity or sympathy.  I’m writing because we judge each other entirely too much.  All of the cliches about not knowing other people’s struggles are so true. There are an infinite number of other pertinent issues to concern yourself with.   Let people be.  Stop judging.  Support.

FYI- I happen to have some pretty amazing people in my life.  Some have been there forever and have been  supportive for a long, long time.  Some are relatively new, and are teaching me and helping me to adjust to my new diagnosis.  I have a plan.  I have a strong support team.  I am lucky. I  know how it feels to have your husband hold you as finally break and cry out all of your frustrations.  I know how it feels to have your mom rush to your side when you’re doubled over in pain, and call you daily to check in.  I experience such compassion from my young children when they hug me, kiss the tear that escaped and made it’s way down my cheek, and allow me to rest. I know my family and friends understand when I cancel or decline plans because I’m just too exhausted to do anything.  And even though I do hate my body most days, I am proud of its resilience and strength, and I am thankful that it created and gave life to two amazing babies.

Step 1. Learn to love yourself……………………………………….

Woah! Where Have I Been?

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I honestly don’t know where I’ve been! My daughter was diagnosed with a rare and weird autoimmune disorder, I started a ridiculously difficult course (for work), and work itself has been INSANE, and that’s putting it mildly.  Image

Has seem to be the motto at work lately.

My hair is still not growing back, but the falling out has decreased. The side effects of the spiro are still lingering. I’m eating better and exercising but not as much as I’d like or should.

We have two new frogs.   Fudge                   tree frog     Spike

 

 

OK, I think we’re all caught up now.

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My 3 year old daughter repeatedly responds to my requests with, “OK, OK, hold on.”  It drives me batshit crazy.  In the morning while I’m doing my best to get two kids ready, trying to make myself look presentable as I can, and leave the house with everyone’s lunch, breakfast, schoolbags……”OK, hold on,” is the LAST thing I want to hear.  When I call her to come to the table for dinner, “OK, hold on.”  At night when I prompt her repeatedly to brush her teeth and pee, “OK, hold on.”  Today while I was desperately trying to get her to hurry her little bum up and walk a tad bit faster to get into the car, “OK, hold on, ” followed by, “Mom, why are we rushing anyway, we’re on vacation.” That question hit me like a ton of bricks! Why was I rushing? What was so important? I have been watching my little girl lately and she’s so sure of herself (most of the time.) She does things her way and at her own pace.  I don’t want to ruin that with my own neurosis. ( I think I may have passed some on to my son already.)

In an attempt to save my children from the screaching banshee I turn into in the mornings, I am going to get up earlier.

Image(This is the much skinnier, with way bigger boobs version of  banshee Colleen.)

Will we still be rushed in the morning? Of course.  That’s life, but maybe I can make it a little easier.

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Balance Quest

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It’s almost Christmas, and I have not bought a single present for anyone other than my children.  This is not really like me.

I’m tired.  The spironolactone I started taking for my hair loss is kicking my ass.  I am one of those people that look at the list of possible side effects and immediately start planning on how to deal with them…cuz I’m getting them…ALL of them!

I’m fatigued, I have sporadic nausea, I’m dizzy,  my migraines have increased, and my period is now gracing me with its appearance every other week.  I’m not sure if the sprio and rogaine are helping my hair grow back yet, but I’m pretty sure the falling out has decreased!!  Focusing on my hair and Christmas and the kids, has distracted me from focusing on my husband and the rest of me.  My weight loss has stalled.  I know it’s my fault, I’m struggling with balancing everything.

Finding and maintaining balance in your life is hard.

Something always seems to give.  How do other women do this? Take a good look at this woman ^ this is not possible…not all of the time.  I want my kids to be happy and know that they’re loved, I want my husband and I to be how we were 10 years ago (less stressed, happier…), I want my house to be somewhat clean and my bills to be paid on time, I want to be a compassionate teacher and reliable worker, I want to be healthy, I want to lose weight, I want to find the energy to exercise every day, I want to be a supportive daughter, sister, aunt, friend, I want to have fun again, and worry less.

PCOS SUCKS

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I have always been open and honest on this blog, in attempts to raise awareness, and hold myself accountable.  My weight has always been something I’d rather not talk about, but I have, and I’m OK with talking about it now.

This blog may be the most difficult one to write.

Last May I posted about losing my hair.  This Thursday, I finally met with the head of Women’s Dermatology/Hair Loss at a world renowned hospital, and………………………………………

she was nice.  I sat in traffic for over two hours.  I met a very friendly valet guy who, pointing to my extremely old foot tattoo, said. “oh, you a gangstaaa, huh?” I took more than one free sample of the new Aveeno face moisturizer with sunscreen.  I was told that I have been doing an amazing job managing my PCOS, and keeping my hormones somewhat balanced.  I got my scalp examined, and my hair pulled.  I left with very few options.  I have started Rogaine for women, and have been agonizing over tons of data on Spironolactone and Propecia, (2 more drugs that I will have to take for the rest of my life, if I choose to go that route.)

I came home and threw myself a little pity party.  I cried.  I have always been known as the redhead. I love my hair.  While still whimpering, I came across a blog article posted by a family member of a 35 year old women, who had written the piece when she was 31 and first diagnosed with breast cancer. She lost her 4 year battle, and here I was crying about my hair. I felt guilty, but I still sat there and cried.  Yet another piece of me is being taken away by a disease that impacts 5-10% of women, yet not too many even know about it.

ROGAINE: I didn’t want to use this! If I ever stop, I will lose whatever hair grew back.  (that’s if it works-there is a 20% success rate.) I was thoroughly warned by the doc, the pamphlet in the box, and the millions of women using it, who also have access to a computer and are not afraid to use it.  There is a “DREAD SHED.” I don’t have enough hair up there to shed, let alone shed dreadfully!! This shedding is supposed to begin 2-4 weeks in and last a few weeks.  I’m 3 days in and it has begun.  I lost my shit today in the shower.  How can this be happening so soon?  My daughter stood in front of the bathroom mirror last night and pretended to massage her own scalp, while watching me apply the R word.  She turned to me and said, “Mama, our hair is so pretty, your’s is orange and mine is bwown (we’re having a little r pronunciation issue.) Then the sadness returned and I immediately began to worry that I passed this bag-full-of-suck disease to her.

PROPECIA: a drug usually never prescribed to  pre-menopausal women due to horrendous birth defects in male fetuses. (No, I am not planning on having any more children, but if anything ever happened, I don’t want to be faced with that decision. )

SPIRONOLACTONE:  many women with PCOS use this drug to treat excess body/facial hair, cystic acne, and hair loss, and I hear it’s effective. This drug (in extremely high doses) is known to grow tumors in rats.  I have made a conscious choice to not use birth control pills to help with my ridiculously painful and heavy periods because of the increased risk of breast cancer.  So, now I’m faced with this decision.   I have read more research articles, blogs, and discussion board posts than anyone ever should. I have cried, prayed, cried, and prayed some more…and I’m still undecided.

Please don’t read this and think that it’s all about vanity.  I’m not a vain person.  I am just trying to hold on to a piece of my femininity, a piece of myself.  I know that people are going to judge me and say, “Your appearance- weight, hair, skin… doesn’t define you.”  And all I can say to them is, ” Until you know my joy, know my pain and know my struggles-
Until you’ve walked these shoes, paid my dues and felt my troubles- Until you’ve shed my tears, known my fears in all my years -Only ’til then, you only know what you think you know.” (Until by The Love Experience)

I am also extremely aware of all of the magnificent blessings I have in my life, and I thank God and the universe every day for them.  This is a tiny hurdle in the greatness of my life, and I will eventually get over it.  Thanks for listening while I try.

Who Knew!

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I like yoga!

All those years I shied away from it.  I thought, how can doing weird stretches help you lose weight?

I LOVE IT!!

OK, so now’s the point where I admit to something that is somewhat embarrassing.  I ordered and have been using an exercise routine from Beach Body known as, Yoga Booty Ballet.  It’s yoga and cardio and some free weights. Aside from Billy Blanks’ original Tae Bo, I have never completed an exercise routine and liked it.  (I miss you Billy)

I know that these DVD’s aren’t going to be the answer to all of my fitness prayers.  But, they’re a great start.  I have found something that makes me move, and sweat, and makes me really focus on my body and mind. The instructors are beyond corny, there is some Rajesh Koothrappali look-alike  playing the bongos in the background, 

and there is a crew of overly happy women with wide toothy grins, following each instruction perfectly.  But I don’t care, it makes me move. Yesterday after completing a DVD  with two overly needy children and a very attentive dog (I heard at least 100 “Mom can you ____________?’s”, had more than enough assistance during raised knee crunches from my 3-year-old daughter, received 4 slobbery kisses from a bulldog while in downward facing dog, and had to take one emergency jog to the bathroom to wipe a poopy butt!) I realized that I too was smiling like a fool.

So my journey continues.  I’m eating better, I’m finally moving, and I’m starting to like myself a little bit more each day.  (Check out the newest smoothie recipe in the recipe section, it’s amaze balls!)

And if you hear someone yelling “I love yoga booty ballet!!) It’s just me…. I don’t care, I love it!

WARNING-GRAPHIC!!!!

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Yup, this about sums up my morning!

A few months ago, my period decided to take a little hiatus, extending my cycle by about a week.  Normally I wouldn’t care, however, we have a little vacation planned.  Now let me set the scene here for all of you non-parents.  A vacation with a 6 and 3-year-old is not a vacation.  It’s out of our element, away from our routine chaos! It is not fun to have your period (let alone my period) while walking around theme parks in 90 degree weather, or swimming in a river without a bathroom in sight for miles. I know this because it happened last summer.  I did my best to grin and bear it, always wondering if I was leaking, always scanning the horizon for restrooms, loading up on ibuprofen to slow my flow, and hopefully dull the pain of my exploding cyst. It sucked, but my kids had an awesome time.

So despite my horror movie of a morning, I am pleased that my body is broken. (at least for today)

Umm……Thanks PCOS?

Slow and Steady…you can say that again!

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I am officially at the lowest weight I have been since starting this “overhaul.”  I cannot really see a difference, I doubt anyone else can either.  I should have lost a lot more chub by now.  I can list a variety of excuses…(a full-time job, 2 kids, increased cyst pain, focusing on losing my hair, laziness, life) however, the truth of the matter is, I just need to try harder.

My adoring husband’s attempt at not making me feel like a total slacker, went something like this, “Well at least you didn’t gain any weight.”  Umm, thanks hon!

But I guess he’s right.  I don’t consider myself successful, but I also don’t see the past year as a total failure.

OK, now that I have addressed the weight loss progress/lack of progress, I’d like to discuss something else.  I hate the summer.  I hate the sun.  I hate the heat. I hate the humidity.  I hate sweat.  I hate the much-needed sunblock. On the other hand, my kids love being outside, swimming in the pool, running around, being kids.

  I realized a few mornings ago that I have developed some type of anxiety about going outside.  This cannot be normal or healthy.  Is this the beginning of an agoraphobia diagnosis?  I don’t think so.  I just think that I am stuck in some type of messed up rut.  I can go outside without having a panic attack, but I certainly have to psyche myself up for it.  Ever since I was younger, the heat screwed with my internal systems…I’d get headaches, my tummy would toss and turn until I finally got sick, my skin turns apple red within seconds, and so on.  I think facing those lovely side effects with two kids is what’s causing my anxiety.  I am making myself deal with this new-found psychological dilemma, so my kids can have a normal childhood.  I may have given them life, but they are saving mine.

“You’re The Prettiest Girl Ever Made”

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Tonight, as my 3-year-old daughter was doing the pee-pee dance, I rushed to help her onto the toilet. Smiling up at me, she said, “woo mom, that was a lot of work. Thanks, you’re the best mom, and you’re the prettiest girl ever made.” I cried a little. To her, I am the prettiest girl ever made. In my eyes…not so much!

I don’t think that I’m a hideous creature that should hide away in a dark, dank cave. But I would never consider myself pretty. And let’s not even mention my body image issues.

This little conversation with my darling daughter got me thinking. How does she define pretty? Does she factor in kind eyes, a friendly smile, a big heart? Whatever it is that makes up her definition of pretty, I hope it is never corrupted by her peers, the media, or worse….some boy. What will happen when she finally realizes that her views don’t exactly mesh with society’s? Will she be strong enough to hold tight to her convictions? Will she no longer see me as the prettiest girl ever made? I have all intentions of becoming healthier and more fit by then. Not to be “pretty,” but to be a positive influence in my children’s lives. So I can be around to watch them become the most amazing adults, adults who will change the world. So, my transformation is happening, slowly, but happening none the less. I have not been a very responsible eater the past few weeks, and I’m still struggling to get up an hour earlier to fit in a workout, but I know it will happen.

My heart aches when I think of my baby girl and my son having to grow up in a world so obsessed with looks. I worry daily that I passed along PCOS to my daughter, or I passed along some aspects of it to my son. Please don’t think that I don’t worry about the pressures my son will have to face, because I worry plenty. But, I have lived my life as a girl with PCOS and its appearance altering symptoms, and I know just how difficult it can be. I also know women who are considered beautiful by society’s standards and have suffered just as much as “plain” or even “ugly” women. Our culture is mean. If it were a character it would be this bitch! (Sara Michelle Gellar,Cruel Intentions)

I know that to be able to empower my daughter (and son) I need to empower myself. I am learning that my worth is not tied to my weight, or my hair! I’m learning to not hate my body so much. I’m learning how to transform it instead. I’m learning how to accept my diagnosis, learn as much as I can about it, and beat it. I’m learning to be strong for my daughter. As she grows, I will be teaching and living the following ideals, so that my daughter and my son will truly understand what makes a woman “pretty” AWESOME!

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“A Hair In The Head Is Worth Two In The Brush”

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I’m losing my hair.  I’m really losing my hair.  Lots of women say they’re losing their hair when they see extra strands in the shower or on their pillow.  My endocrinologist confirmed it for me.  My hair is falling out. Fuck you PCOS!! First you convince my pancreas to make extra insulin that my body doesn’t need, blessing me with a weight problem, then you screw with my menstrual cycle, then you rob me of my fertility and make me feel broken inside, then you decide to present me with growing/rupturing cysts each month that leave me gasping at times, then you deliver excess testosterone, causing hair to sprout up where it’s not supposed to, and now the coup de gras….you’re taking my hair.

I love my hair.  It was the only thing that ever made me feel beautiful.  I used my hair to hide behind when my weight continued to rise.  People would ask me what color dye my hairdresser used, and would scoff in jealousy when I told them it was au naturale.

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Now it’s thinning and falling out.  My doc suggested Rogain for women.  After doing some research, I’m all set (for now, we’ll see how desperate I get.) I did find a lot of helpful sites written by women with PCOS.  I am currently using a scalp treatment consisting of pure aloe vera gel, rosemary oil, and lavender oil.  It makes my hair feel amazing, but I smell like a freaking garden. I’m also taking biotin, retress, and a hair/skin/nail supplement. I have seen less hair falling out.  I’m not sure if I’m seeing any regrowth,but I’m hopeful.  I refuse to give up on myself.  I am going to take my body and my health back.  I’m tired of PCOS running the show.

It wouldn’t be a blog of mine without a period from hell reference…..

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Am I right Ladies?

photo 2Mother Nature, you Bitch!