Birthdays As a Family of Two

Last week was Bryce's birthday. Obviously we couldn't go out to dinner (titanium knee), so it was a low key celebration. 

I actually started it the night before, because he'd had a rough day and so had I, a lot of it from the general state of things and feeling like perhaps we are living in a speculative fiction novel.I was like, "that's IT, we're doing a Birthday Eve present!" I had two cards, one sweet and a bit mushy for the actual day, and another one that was ridiculous and funny. So, I gave him one card and one present as an appetizer of sorts. 

Amazing Etsy find at LittleMapleShop cracked us both up! 

Another Etsy find (TheArtOfManyThings), THE BEST. 

It was a lovely way to kick things off and have a little joy in the midst of what sure feels like End Times. 

The next day, actual birthday, we had a tasty Hello Fresh meal, and then surprise cake (I enlisted a friend to pick up and drop off a slice of carrot cake for Bryce and a slice of GF golden cake with buttercream frosting). Then, my favorite part --  the giving of the prizes! 

I pretty much furnish Bryce's wardrobe collection of Dungeons & Dragons t-shirts. He is a Dungeon Master for a group of guys, which is a terrific social and creative outlet. So if course, I had to get him another one (Etsy, this one from DragonbornDesign). 

What a handsome DM!

My favorite thing that was so silly was this: a Spookula umbrella. Is it not the absolute best? 

Yes yes, open umbrella in the house, had luck, blah blah. 

Finally, the best candles ever -- Nubble Light Candles from Maine. For Bryce, they smell like home. 

Two Mornings at the Lake, which smells like coffee and camp, a Lost in the Pines, which is Maine forest all the way, and Beach Bonfire, which is exactly as it sounds. 

It is so wonderful to be able to have a low key birthday celebration just the two of us. We don't need much, and everything is practical yet quirky. A lot of couples I know with kids have rushed birthdays, and prioritize their kids' celebrations so their own are minimized. 

We don't have kids, so we make our own rituals and celebrate each other pretty thoroughly. We are a family of two (plus cats), and we do everything we can to squeeze as much love and joy out of our time as possible. We have fun and, in a way, treat ourselves as our own kids. 

We are definitely reaching a point where the sadness of not getting to parent is pretty well balanced with a hearty appreciation of and gratitude for the life we get to live, just the way it is right now. 

Surgery Bloopers

I can't imagine going through life without a sense of humor. It really makes everyday life, but especially inevitable foibles, so much more entertaining. What's that quote? Trauma + time = comedy? There were a few bonkers moments in my hospital experience.

1) My surgeon does not do general anesthesia for a total knee replacement. Instead, both times I got a nerve block, a spinal, and sedation. Last time they said, "you won't feel anything because of the spinal, but we'll make you nice and sleepy for the procedure." To which I replied, "no no-- I see those power tools over there! You will make me ASLEEP!" And they did. 

This time, I had the spinal, and the anesthesiologist put the sedation in my IV (thankfully I'd already had a bit for the nerve block), and was like "night-night!" 

But, THERE WAS NO NIGHT NIGHT. He kept futzing with the IV, and muttering, and I was very much awake. My ridiculous veins made my IV not so effective. So, they set up the blue sheet that I associate with every TV c-section... Awake. I could feel tugging as they positioned my knee... Awake. The anesthesiologist was visibly upset as he adjusted the IV, and I repeated my very-much-aloud mantra "I'M AWAKE I'M AWAKE I'M AWAKE!" while the surgical team STARTED IN ON MY KNEE. I fell asleep before I could hear any power tool sounds or see blood spatter on the blue screen, and I legitimately couldn't feel anything, but THEY TOTALLY STARTED CUTTING WHILE I WAS STILL AWARE. I think right before I went dark, I hollered, "Dude, THIS IS NOT A C-SECTION!" In recovery, my surgeon checked in on me. I asked, "did you start cutting when I was awake???" And he said "yup." 

I wasn't mad, it is kind of cool that you can't feel any of that answer apparently some (possibly psychotic)  people WATCH, but I did say, "that's messed up." Bleccchhhh.

2) In immediate recovery, you still can't feel anything. They don't move you until you can wiggle your toes and feel your feet. Blissfully, it takes a while before you can feel the horrors of what was done to your leg. The last part of you to regain feeling is your pelvic region.

Last time, I said I had to pee and two nurses supported me walking to the bathroom attached to my room. I day down and realized I had peed already... There was a puddle trail leading from the bed to the toilet. The nurses said it happens all the time, but it was still embarrassing. And it is insanely weird to use toilet paper on an area you can't feel at all -- like you're wiping a mannequin's nethers instead of your own. 

So this time, I wasn't in the cushy room area, they had me in the PACU extended stay around the corner from recovery (Post Anesthesia Care Unit). The bathroom was right across the hall, but it was shared and the pathway was public. I got excellent, fast care so the fact that the ambience wasn't posh mattered not a bit to me, but the bathroom situation was less than ideal.

I sat in my bed, talking with Bryce, when my leg started to itch. I scratched at the bandage (they ace bandage your ENTIRE LEG like a mummy), and my hand came away...wet. Oh holy jeezum. I slowly realized that I had full on emptied my bladder in bed, WHILE TALKING TO PEOPLE, and couldn't feel it. They had to change my sheets, change my bandaging, change my gown. I was mortified. 

A little while later I walked to the bathroom (with the support of a nurse and a walker), and realized I was dribbling my way across the public hall. Nooooo! It was at this point I was offered adult Pull-ups. I took them, and made some lame joke about how this was a glimpse into my future, very sexy. I didn't end up "needing" the extra protection, but it did give me be peace of mind. I felt more dignified knowing that should I spring a leak again,  I'd be covered. Amply, and with much crinkling.

If those were the only two things to go awry, I count myself lucky! I do enjoy that horrifying and/or embarrassing moments can later become at most hilarious, and at least good stories. Life is never boring.

You Know What to Expect

It's different going into a total knee replacement having already had one. One of the most frequent encouragements I got before going out on medical leave was, 

"But you know what to expect this time! It will be easier!" 

Um, true. And also...not. 

Positives of knowing what to expect: 

- I was prepared with all the things I need for recovery -- the Cold Rush ice machine with knee pad, the countertop ice maker to keep up with ice demands, lots of stretchy wide-leg pants I can pull up for wound inspections by doctor and PT, water bottle, books, word searches, headphones, body pillow, setting up the downstairs bedroom, inspecting the elevator (ugh, sounds so bougie, but the downstairs was built wheelchair accessible, so we have an "elevette" that is terrifying but also VERY convenient for surgeries, and actually the doors are all wider and the bathroom has more maneuvering space). 

- Bryce was prepared for what he needs to do to help take care of me when I'm not yet independent. This was really hard last time as I had the hematoma and medication snafus and way more inflammation than I needed to deal with.

- We can tweak things that could have been better last time -- like meds management (Bryce made a spreadsheet this time and is the "home pharmacist," because it's a good idea to have those on narcotics maybe not be in charge of keeping track of them, at least at first!). 

- I have knowledge about what impeded progress and caused inflammation last time -- I know not to overdo the ROMTech range of motion bike thing, I know to ice, lots, I know to listen to my body better, and I know that bending is hard, but straightening is harder. Lots of putting pillows under my calf, not my thigh. (It's paying off!)

- We knew to advocate for the Celebrex and Gabapentin from the get-go, and didn't take no for an answer when it looked like maybe it was going to be a clusterfuck again.

- I requested my same home PT team, since they were phenomenal last time. Guess what? You can TOTALLY request things like that!

You would think all this preparation would make me a lot calmer. But...

Negatives of knowing what to expect: 

- I KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT. I remembered the pain of the nerve block, the fear around the spinal. I remembered the weird sensation of having to walk without totally feeling my feet, and thinking that they put me in a waterbed because my ass was numb for hours (Fun Fact: your pelvic region is the last part of you to regain feeling, which is INSANELY WEIRD in the bathroom. Use your imagination.). I remembered the horrors of mismanaged pain. I remembered difficulties sleeping. I remembered pain, and pain, and pain. 

- This meant that my anxiety levels were soaring the days before surgery. I was literally on edge and teary and panicky all the way until they first gave me a little sedation with the nerve block. It was ROUGH. So much anticipatory anxiety.

It reminded me of when I was going in for my last handful of embryo transfers. Some clinics will give you a valium because it helps with relaxing your cervix. I advocated for it for that reason, but also because I was an absolute wreck every time by that point (should have been a clue maybe it was time to stop). I would see that flash of the embryo(s) entering my uterus through the pipette on the ultrasound screen, and I would just tear up and say (sometimes out loud), "Hey, little guys, I'm so sorry. You're probably going to die in there." Ooof. Just for the record, these thoughts in no way sealed my embryos' doom. We humans simply don't have that kind of power. Sorry, manifesting "think it true" folks! 

It felt terrifying to know what to expect, because so many things went wrong, both with the transfers and my first knee. But... 

This time has been so much better. I was right that having no prior scar tissue from a previous traumatic injury and surgery made it easier. I have pain, and it's hard, but the knee part is nowhere near as bad as it was the first time. Also, it's easier to advocate for my needs. Unfortunately, some things not-knee related have made it of course more complicated. I had an allergic reaction to the adhesive in the wound covering that I didn't have before. It caused a rash, and blisters, and horrible itching/burning. Hydrocortisone cream helps a bit, but the only thing that is truly clearing it up is Prednisone. UGH. I hate that med so much. It's a fast Medrol pack, so I'll sleep again soon, but blergh. Gross. Also, all the one-sidedness and weird positioning to get comfortable resulted in horrible sciatica and piriformis spasming. This was literally a pain in my ass! It was so bad that it eclipsed the knee pain sometimes. However, amazing PT for the win -- I got really great stretches and exercises to help. Also, my amazing massage therapist and friend came and did a house call! I got quality time kneading out my butt. It made a huge difference. 

I am now in that part where I'm more mobile but prone to overdo it in my desire to be more independent. I have to remind myself to slow down and not push it, because that can result in slowing down recovery. It is something else to actually have the space and time to slow down. More on that later. 

So, "you know what to expect" is a mixed bag, but it did actually make more of a positive difference than a negative one. If I had a third knee, I would tell myself those days before surgery that everything would be okay. A couple bloopers, but overall... it was way better than my brain led me to believe. 

Not-So-Quick Knee Replacement Update

I have so many posts in my head, but between the pain meds and utter difficulty being in a comfortable position to write, I figured I'd just out out a quickie to let you know how it went. 

- The three weeks before leave were intensely stressful as I tried so hard to get things as ready as possible for my sub. That meant roughly 3 days per week bring at school until 6-7 pm. Exhausting. It really sucks that I'm missing almost all of my IEP meetings; that is my biggest stressor.

- My sub is amazing. I left with full confidence that he would take great care of my kids. He has sent me videos of each student presenting their final Giver project. They absolutely adore him and he is keeping us connected, which is such a gift. 

- The actual surgery went well. I had insane anxiety the day before and the day of, but it went well and some things went better. More on that later. I spent the night and pain management was excellent.

- I did have to fight for it, annoyingly, but I did get the gabapentin and celebrex at discharge that made such a difference when I finally got them last time. 

- Initially I was doing great -- far more mobile and independent than last time. 

- Initially is the key word. Last Friday I developed an allergic skin reaction to the wound covering glue. I had to go to an in person appointment, and they didn't want to remove it early (usually 2.5 weeks ish, or when it falls off), but the reaction necessitated it. So then I got 9 steri strips (mini blinds for my incision!) with the assurance that the adhesive is different. 

- Not different enough. I am looking at a course of steroids (noooooo, devil pills!). The rash is spreading. Ugh.

- Over the weekend, my back started to bother me. And my butt, like sciatica. I had pain radiating down my leg and up to where my kidney is. So I was terrified that the meds were making my kidney fail. Ha. Nope, my piriformis muscle deep in my ass is seizing, and it's impacting the sciatic nerve and so much more.

- Monday I called the home healthcare nurse line about the pain, which was eclipsing my knee pain. She suggested I call my Ortho office and get a muscle relaxer. Sounds easy, right? Ortho nurse said "we don't treat backs" and I said "but it's my back/butt BECAUSE OF THE KNEE," and she said regardless they don't prescribe for back pain, I'd have to call my primary care. Oh yes, because that went great the last time I needed medication related to my major surgery.  His office said I'd have to come in in person because drugs. 

- I made an appt but also had PT this morning and wanted to see her thoughts. She was awesome and took me through stretches and adjusting my gait and the placement of my Range of Motion bike. It was a relief. I'm going with those functional things and I cancelled my doctor's appointment because I didn't want another med anyway. And the anticipation of uninformed discussion of my pain management plan was causing me not a little anxiety and overwhelm.

So...better, then worse,  PTs are the bomb.com, and Bryce is an amazing support. My dad, too, who has been able to be pinch hitter when meetings clash with appointments, which is pretty much always.

Guess that wasn't short but here it is. Tomorrow I get my nifty mobile standing desk thingy that looks amazing and will allow me to type on my laptop in comfort, on the couch or in bed. Tomorrow is two weeks from surgery. It feels like a freaking lifetime. But still, in most ways, better than last time. 

You Don't Know Until You Know

I am terrible at collecting the mail in my mailbox at school. I grabbed it yesterday morning, and there was a little slip of paper in it. 

A teacher is having her first baby, and a birthday pool was organized to bet on when the baby will arrive, as well as a baby shower. This is a lovely gesture -- our school comes together to support people in lots of ways, and it's great to celebrate someone's happy event. 

I flipped the slip over, and there was a cute letterboard thing that said "And then there were three..." 

But also, a freaking ultrasound photo. In everyone's mailbox. Completely and utterly unavoidable. 

I immediately thought of several people I know who have suffered losses recently. Of people going through infertility treatment without success. Of all the people who would have a punch to the gut and suffer in silence. 

My hallway neighbor who had a devastating loss last year, who has been impacted by other announcements recently, deserved a heads up. I popped in and said "Did you check your mailbox? DON'T!" 

Well, apparently they went into mailboxes yesterday,  and since I didn't check it in a timely fashion... she'd already seen it. And felt the feels. 

The papers were set up by someone in the main office and not the pregnant person. I decided... how will anyone ever know that ultrasound pictures are tremendous triggers for so many if NO ONE TELLS THEM? That the picture hurts for: 

- childless not by choice due to infertility
- childless not by choice due to social circumstances
- people going through infertility treatment who wonder if they'll ever get a picture like that
- people who suffered losses at any stage
- people who never got to be pregnant for whatever reason
- probably other situations I haven't even thought of.

So, I took a deep breath, called on my empathy reserves, and prepared to have a very uncomfortable conversation in the kindest way possible, not knowing if there would be defensiveness or ire, because who am I to rain on someone's happy parade with sad feelings (but collective sad feelings)? 

I am SO INSANELY GRATEFUL that it went okay. I explained that ultrasound pictures are triggering even though they are EVERYWHERE (facebook, emails, CHRISTMAS CARDS, profile pictures, ugh), and that we have a lot of people (the WORLD has a lot of people) that saw that and it opened up a wound. Or put salt in an oozing wound. Or poked at scar tissue with tiny needles. 

She teared up and said, "I am so sorry! I didn't know, I would never want to cause anyone pain!" 

"Of course not! And I'm not here to make you feel bad. I'm here because how will anyone ever know unless we talk about it? You didn't know. Now you know, and it can go differently next time." 

She asked if it triggered me. I said it was a bit of an unpleasant surprise, but no, I never got to that stage, so that particular type of ultrasound doesn't hit me the same way. Plus it was, at this point, so long ago. My last IVF cycle ended in cancellation...HOLY SHIT, almost exactly 10 years ago. How is that possible? 

It was interesting, because she was like, "I had a loss once, and I just thought, 'it happens, just try again' and didn't let it bother me too much." To which I gently said, "and that worked for you, and was what you thought, but not everyone has that experience. Not everyone gets a rainbow baby. Not everyone's gazillion needles result in a picture with a baby in the middle. IVF fails. A lot. There are so many more stories out there of things ending with a baby than the alternative." 

She got it, and then shared about a family member who tried to freeze her eggs because a partner wasn't materializing, only to find that insurance wouldn't pay for the meds for that purpose and so it was prohibitively expensive. And how worried this person was that she'd get to her 40s and finally find a person and it would be too late. I think a lightbulb went off at that moment in our conversation. 

At the end, she said, "Thank you so much for telling me. I really appreciate it." 

"Thank you for listening, not everyone would have the way you have." 

And we hugged. 

It was insanely uncomfortable. I felt like I was trying so hard to be kind, to not activate the human reflex to be defensive, but to also educate. And thank goodness, it went well. It was empowering. 

Different situation, but it reminded me of The Next 15000 Days' moment of bravery, speaking up for her right to have no children and ALSO (gasp!) have a private life outside of work. 

Keep speaking up, friends! Tiny moments like these can make a difference. When people know, they can do better. (Cue Maya Angelou quote...)

Found on instagram, no credit given but thank you! 

Oh! Found this gem along the way, too. Perfect.

I learned a long time ago the wisest thing I can do is be on my own side, be an advocate for myself and others like me.

- Maya Angelou

The Last of the Bin

Last week we were putting away Christmas decorations, and we needed another bin. We have stuff in our attic space that has been there since we moved, and I knew we had bins we could use if we emptied them. Bryce found a bin of old binders from school to unload. 

And then I realized... I had a bin that was only about a quarter of the way full. 

What seems like forever ago, when we packed up our nursery and donated the majority of the contents, I kept a bin of things I wasn't quite ready to let go of yet. I have been slowly shedding things from that bin ever since -- books and blocks and floor puzzles and stuffies and puppets that have gone piecemeal to other friends with small children. A soft barn owl stuffed animal that now lives in my classroom and has been named Chicken Wing by this year's group of students. Receiving blankets that we repurposed around the house (great to cover office chairs or things you don't want cat hair on). 

A few years ago, I donated a bunch of baby stuff when we went to Vermont. I'd been hanging on to a bin in my car, and finally had the strength to donate it. It hurt. But I knew I had the bin left in the attic. There were still snippets. 

Now the snippets of things I can't use are gone. I emptied the bin, saving only a box of cards from our baby shower (ooof) and the sign-in book. (Although, I honestly don't really get the point of those when we have cards. It's always got 50 extra pages because we're not royalty, and I don't ever go, "oh, let's see who signed in to my event years ago!" Strange custom.) 

What's gone -- Halloween board books, the El El Frijoles onesie from Maine, the batik jellyfish onesie from the Corn Hill Festival, the Blueberries for Sal onesie someone got us, and some beautiful hand-knit items from Bryce's mom. We could hang on to them in a sealed plastic bin in a cobwebby corner of the attic space, or they could get used and worn by actual human babies. We gave the things to our lovely cleaning lady, who has a family member who's having a baby soon. 

I didn't take a picture. But then again, I feel like I have a zillion pictures. I have so much chronicled here and at My Path to Mommyhood. If I want to revisit moments and beautiful things that were never used by our mythical baby, I have lots of places to go. I don't need to keep things from having a life somewhere else. (I actually just looked at pictures from the blogs, and sure enough, the spectral version of these things live there.)

It made me a little sad, but I didn't cry. It felt more freeing than devastating. 

I feel pretty good about that. 

Unbecoming

I forgot when exactly it started, but there is a teacher at my middle school who decorates the staff bathrooms at the start of each month. I'm not sure if she just does the ladies' room, or if she sneaks into the men's' as well, but there is a new inspirational quote on the inside of the stall doors every month, affixed with festive washi tape. 

I don't always love them, because sometimes toxic positivity sneaks its way in masquerading as "inspirational," and sometimes the December ones forget that not everybody celebrates Christmas, but overall they are a lift to the day. 

I absolutely love the one that is on the lefthand stall right now. I think about it every time I go to pee, which, as a teacher, is maybe twice a day. I meant to take a picture today, but I forgot. So, here it is (emphasis mine): 

"Maybe the journey isn't so much about becoming anything. 

Maybe it's about unbecoming everything that isn't you." 

- Paulo Coelho

Oooooooh. Isn't that a good one? I love that. The older I get, the less beholden I feel to the idea of becoming something new, and more attracted I am to unbecoming and being more authentically ME. I have spent a lot of time being someone else to fit in or meet an arbitrary milestone in my life. How freeing is it to flip things and to think, "you know what? I think I will unbecome until I am truly, unapologetically, authentically me." 

The full quote, when I looked it up because I don't bring my phone into the staff bathroom, is: 

"Maybe the journey isn't so much about becoming anything. Maybe it's about unbecoming everything that isn't you so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place." (also Paulo Coelho)

I do struggle a bit with the phrase "meant to be" even in this context, so I am partial to what's printed on the slip of paper taped to the inside of the bathroom stall. 

Here's to unbecoming more in 2025.