One thing I have learned in my 35 years on this planet, is that there will be many conversations in which we will engage that would be considered, unpleasant or uncomfortable.
We've all had them. There is the conversation your parents have with you to tell you where babies come from, the first time you tell someone you "like them, like them" or the " I don't think I love you anymore" talk.
I have engaged in my share of tough conversations.
I have had the I -like-you- like you-talk with someone who did not feel the same way and I have also filled the other's shoes on occasion. I have had to terminate people from their employment cutting off their livelihood (although I must say I had to get to a point where I realized I didn't fire people, they fired themselves.)
Nothing, however, prepared me for the conversation Tim and I had with Nala yesterday evening.
It isn't as if we didn't try to prepare ourselves. We took the classes, we talked about it, talked to others who had done it before and finally, bought the books. But when it came right down to it, I felt horribly, inexplicably, unprepared.
Last night we let Nala know that she did not grow in my tummy. We told her that she grew in someone else's tummy.
The conversation came about after the books we read concerning adoption. One, entitled Tell Me Again About the Night I was Born, by Jamie Lee Curtis was the first pick. I enjoyed reading my part in the book (Tim read the other pages. We took our cues from Nala who orchestrates bed time reading as if she is conducting a symphony) and she seemed to enjoy it.
Once we had read it a couple of times, we told her that some babies come from mommy's tummy and some come from another tummy, but we get to raise the babies. Or something like that.
She smiled the entire time, kind of a nervous smile believe it or not and even asked whose tummy was she in? I could not bring myself to call her the birth mother, as I didn't want to confuse her. I called her by name.
Nala asked was she too young to take care of her(like in the book) and my first response was "yes". It was easy. Convenient. It was a lie. She is two years older than I am. I recanted and said that she could not provide for her, she didn't have enough money so we took care of her instead.
I told her about the phone call I received asking was I ready for a little girl and I said yes. We told her the next day she came home to us.
The next three minutes seemed like three days as Nala rambled on about doctors and hospitals and tummies and Max. I think it was a mini anxiety attack. We asked her did she have any questions and she said yes, and then went on another three year old rant involving something important to three year olds.
And then she requested the usual things on her bedtime chart, conned Tim into reading one more story and went to sleep.
Tim and I didn't discuss it after it happened. Truthfully, I just wanted to go to bed. And I did, drifting into a sleep that was full of dreams of Nala and myself at an amusement park with roller coasters and lakes in the distance.
It was, by far, one of the scariest conversations I have had to date. The challenge with any conversation you may not necessarily be dreading, but definitely not looking forward to is gaging the reaction of other said party. Trying to figure out a three year old's reaction is impossible.
I also realize that the biggest issue of our letting her know is my (and perhaps Tim) fear she will reject me because I didn't grow her. What if she all of a sudden felt no connection to me? What if she no longer thought of me as her mother? What if she just didn't understand?
Sure, I told her last night that before she came I prayed every night for God to send her to me. That made her smile. Sure, I can tell her of all the things she did when she first came home, how she always waited until I changed her wet diaper and then pooped, or even how I stayed up for two days straight staring at her as she slept because I was afraid something would just happen and she would stop breathing.
Would that be enough?
This morning I woke her up as usual, kissed her up telling her it wasn't me giving her kisses but my lips who had gone awry. She laughed like she always does.
I found myself looking at her, waiting for her to ask something about last nights conversation. I looked to see if she treated me or Tim the slightest bit differently. The morning went by smoothly, even when we put on her socks and shoes (which is easily a time for melt downs in our house for no real reason).
We drove to school and she chuckled in back seat because the woman on the radio could not sing. She talked to Max like she does every morning.
As we approached the front door she asked her usual "Is Sister there?"
"She sure is. Let's go."
I gather her up and walk her to the gate and give her kiss and tell her its my lips not me. She laughs again. I bid her good day and start to walk away when she calls me back. " I didn't kiss you back" she says.
I go back for my kiss and she hugs me real tight, walks to the door and then shouts
" I love you, Mommy!"
" I love you, too, Noodle."
And I do. With all my heart.
My tummy never entered the conversation.
Until the next time,
your recovering fat girl
Mikki
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
Happy Birthday
Well, let me just get this right out of the way, as I know you all have been waiting with breath that is bated to know if Billy Blanks wore that same leotard that showed those oh-so-sexy nipples. Your guess is as good as mine!
Obviously, holding myself accountable is not working so much. I could use the excuse that I didn't have sneakers that fit (this is very true. Since being pregnant with Max my right foot has expanded on one side, making shoe shopping kind of impossible), that I don't have anything to wear to the gym or downstairs to play with Billy ( at last glance at the scale I have lost 21lbs and my pants are sagging), or that I just didn't have the time to do it.
Lets put it this way. I didn't make myself do it, so I didn't. My dear husband, bless his heart threw me out of the house tonight and said "take thy booty to the gym). I kissed him, grabbed my iPod (which I have finally figured out) and then realized some things.
My sneakers hurt my feet, my sports bra is too big as are my pants, and I really don't have anything to wear that will not embarrass me. So, I went to Target, my favorite store which is now my "splurge" store since we are down to one income.
There, I purchased all the essentials except a new sports bra. Why in the world did they have sports bras with spaghetti straps? I am not looking for a prom dress, people, I am attempting to purchase hardware that will keep "the girls" in one place. No offense to women who have an "A" cup, but some of us have a little more than that and spaghetti straps are not an option.
The good news is I am ready to hit the gym tomorrow. I could make a promise to you all and myself that I am going, but it probably won't work. However, I talked to Nala who wants to know if they have a lot of "cool stuff" at the gym? I told her they sure do and she said could I take a picture of the coolest thing. I told her yes. Have you ever had to disappoint a three year old?
Therefore, tomorrow will be the day.
Tomorrow is also Maxwell's first birthday. I can not believe that a year has passed by so quickly. It seems like yesterday I was still waddling around thinking I had some time before this baby made his or her appearance.
I still remember waking up that Monday morning and thinking "this is definitely my last day." I scooped my hair up into a really curly afro puff, slid my feet into sneakers that were already tied because Tim had left the house before he could tie my shoes, and climbed up into my pseudo SUV. I distinctly remember saying out loud to no one in particular, "this is it for this craziness. I am outta here after today!"
Little did I know that when I went to work and announced to Nancy that I was going to finish up everything today and I was going to work from home until Wednesday and then I was officially out on maternity leave I was closer than I knew.
Max had other plans, however. As I sat in a meeting with Kyle and Jamie something happened. My water broke. What? Could that be what I think it is? It can't be, I'm not ready! My bag isn't packed. My hair isn't done and I look a hot mess. Not to mention the car seat is not in Sherry's car yet. We were doing that today.
But it was and I was on my way.
Now, while I had been a mommy for almost three years, I didn't know nothin' 'bout birthin' no babies. So I did what anyone would do. I asked Nancy (who has five children) what do I do next?
She laughed and said "call your doctor, you have some time."
I called the doc who said to come on in, and then I called Tim.
"Hey. What are you doing, Schrodel."
" I am just finishing up my last bite of my lunch. What's Up?"
"Well, my water broke and I called Dr. Monzo and she said to come in and see where we are."
"I'm on my way."
The next hour or so happened in a flash. Word spread around the office that my water broke, but I refused to go anywhere until after I my fish sandwich had arrived, because gosh doggone it I was hungry and I KNEW they were not going to let me eat when I got to the hospital. Tim came running in, a blur of red coat wondering why I was signing time sheets (uhh, people must be paid and they aren't going to care if the "boss" was in labor or not) and not waiting at the door. He couldn't believe that I was actually waiting for a fish sandwich. He obviously did not understand the hunger of a pregnant woman.
We were off to the car and I was making phone calls arranging to have Nala picked up from school when my cell rang. It was Nala's day care calling to tell me that she was "itchy, so could you pick her up early today?" I look at that phone.
"Actually, my water just broke and we are on our way to the hospital, so no we can't. But my sister will be picking her up she should be fine until then."
We made it to the hospital at 1:30 where Dr. Monzo said, "yep, lets speed this up. I will meet you all in labor and delivery."
And there we sat for NINE hours. So much for speed. It seems that the baby was not making his/her dissent. I was only 5 cm dialated.
"Well, Kiddo. It does not look like this baby is coming down on his own. We can wait a little while longer or take the baby now. Its up to you."
I look at Tim and he looks at me. We look back at her.
"Well, what do you think? Does this baby have a chance of coming down on its own?"
"Ummmm, probably not."
"Then let's get this baby out!"
After ten hours of waiting, Maxwell Philip came into the world at 11:44pm, February 26th, 2007 via cesarean section. It was not until later that we found out he wasn't making his grand dissent and entrance the old fashioned way because the cord was wrapped around his shoulders and then down his back. I think it was all the tugging he would do on the cord when he was hungry.
I remember when the nurse held him up he looked huge, although he was only six pounds 7 ounces. He looked like his daddy, still does. His eyes were shockingly blue to which Tim exclaimed "Oh my God. Look, Mikki. His eyes are blue! How did that happen?"
I just looked because it certainly did not come from my side of the family *smile*.
It was a good night.
And now, here he is a whole year old. I don't know where the time has gone, but I am glad that he is doing well and growing and walking and being the best bratty baby he knows how to be.
So Happy Birthday, Maxi Max. And here is wishing you many more.
Until the Next Time,
your recovering fat girl,
Mikki
Obviously, holding myself accountable is not working so much. I could use the excuse that I didn't have sneakers that fit (this is very true. Since being pregnant with Max my right foot has expanded on one side, making shoe shopping kind of impossible), that I don't have anything to wear to the gym or downstairs to play with Billy ( at last glance at the scale I have lost 21lbs and my pants are sagging), or that I just didn't have the time to do it.
Lets put it this way. I didn't make myself do it, so I didn't. My dear husband, bless his heart threw me out of the house tonight and said "take thy booty to the gym). I kissed him, grabbed my iPod (which I have finally figured out) and then realized some things.
My sneakers hurt my feet, my sports bra is too big as are my pants, and I really don't have anything to wear that will not embarrass me. So, I went to Target, my favorite store which is now my "splurge" store since we are down to one income.
There, I purchased all the essentials except a new sports bra. Why in the world did they have sports bras with spaghetti straps? I am not looking for a prom dress, people, I am attempting to purchase hardware that will keep "the girls" in one place. No offense to women who have an "A" cup, but some of us have a little more than that and spaghetti straps are not an option.
The good news is I am ready to hit the gym tomorrow. I could make a promise to you all and myself that I am going, but it probably won't work. However, I talked to Nala who wants to know if they have a lot of "cool stuff" at the gym? I told her they sure do and she said could I take a picture of the coolest thing. I told her yes. Have you ever had to disappoint a three year old?
Therefore, tomorrow will be the day.
Tomorrow is also Maxwell's first birthday. I can not believe that a year has passed by so quickly. It seems like yesterday I was still waddling around thinking I had some time before this baby made his or her appearance.
I still remember waking up that Monday morning and thinking "this is definitely my last day." I scooped my hair up into a really curly afro puff, slid my feet into sneakers that were already tied because Tim had left the house before he could tie my shoes, and climbed up into my pseudo SUV. I distinctly remember saying out loud to no one in particular, "this is it for this craziness. I am outta here after today!"
Little did I know that when I went to work and announced to Nancy that I was going to finish up everything today and I was going to work from home until Wednesday and then I was officially out on maternity leave I was closer than I knew.
Max had other plans, however. As I sat in a meeting with Kyle and Jamie something happened. My water broke. What? Could that be what I think it is? It can't be, I'm not ready! My bag isn't packed. My hair isn't done and I look a hot mess. Not to mention the car seat is not in Sherry's car yet. We were doing that today.
But it was and I was on my way.
Now, while I had been a mommy for almost three years, I didn't know nothin' 'bout birthin' no babies. So I did what anyone would do. I asked Nancy (who has five children) what do I do next?
She laughed and said "call your doctor, you have some time."
I called the doc who said to come on in, and then I called Tim.
"Hey. What are you doing, Schrodel."
" I am just finishing up my last bite of my lunch. What's Up?"
"Well, my water broke and I called Dr. Monzo and she said to come in and see where we are."
"I'm on my way."
The next hour or so happened in a flash. Word spread around the office that my water broke, but I refused to go anywhere until after I my fish sandwich had arrived, because gosh doggone it I was hungry and I KNEW they were not going to let me eat when I got to the hospital. Tim came running in, a blur of red coat wondering why I was signing time sheets (uhh, people must be paid and they aren't going to care if the "boss" was in labor or not) and not waiting at the door. He couldn't believe that I was actually waiting for a fish sandwich. He obviously did not understand the hunger of a pregnant woman.
We were off to the car and I was making phone calls arranging to have Nala picked up from school when my cell rang. It was Nala's day care calling to tell me that she was "itchy, so could you pick her up early today?" I look at that phone.
"Actually, my water just broke and we are on our way to the hospital, so no we can't. But my sister will be picking her up she should be fine until then."
We made it to the hospital at 1:30 where Dr. Monzo said, "yep, lets speed this up. I will meet you all in labor and delivery."
And there we sat for NINE hours. So much for speed. It seems that the baby was not making his/her dissent. I was only 5 cm dialated.
"Well, Kiddo. It does not look like this baby is coming down on his own. We can wait a little while longer or take the baby now. Its up to you."
I look at Tim and he looks at me. We look back at her.
"Well, what do you think? Does this baby have a chance of coming down on its own?"
"Ummmm, probably not."
"Then let's get this baby out!"
After ten hours of waiting, Maxwell Philip came into the world at 11:44pm, February 26th, 2007 via cesarean section. It was not until later that we found out he wasn't making his grand dissent and entrance the old fashioned way because the cord was wrapped around his shoulders and then down his back. I think it was all the tugging he would do on the cord when he was hungry.
I remember when the nurse held him up he looked huge, although he was only six pounds 7 ounces. He looked like his daddy, still does. His eyes were shockingly blue to which Tim exclaimed "Oh my God. Look, Mikki. His eyes are blue! How did that happen?"
I just looked because it certainly did not come from my side of the family *smile*.
It was a good night.
And now, here he is a whole year old. I don't know where the time has gone, but I am glad that he is doing well and growing and walking and being the best bratty baby he knows how to be.
So Happy Birthday, Maxi Max. And here is wishing you many more.
Until the Next Time,
your recovering fat girl,
Mikki
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Waiting on a Snow Day
Helloooooo...
today was a better day, eating wise. I actually did the right things by drinking most of all my fluid today. 40oz of water is not only nothin' to sneeze at, but mighty impressive if you ask me. I suggest you keep sneezing to a minimum when you find you have to pay the water bill so often, but I digress.
For some reason, I am really tired today, and really not in the best of moods. I don't know why. Maybe its PMS. Hmmmm, a regular cycle. That's just downright curious! Anyway, I have vowed to snap out of it by going to sleep. That is just sooooo healthy.
Oh, tonight we are expecting snow and then ice. Tim is doing the secret "no school dance" that all Education majors were taught upon obtaining their degrees. I am not sure what it is exactly, but I think it involves baby oil, a hockey puck, and three ice cubes taken from an enemies freezer and a feather.
I had plans for tomorrow. Max and I were going to find a cake for his birthday celebration on Sunday, and some Elmo plates and hats at the party store. Then we were going to find me some work out clothes since Tyra (Banks) has informed me of the correct sports bra I should be wearing. Then we were going to JC Penny and my favorite new store National Wholesale Liquidators to look for curtains for the bedroom. Nowhere in these plans did we ask for the companions of snow and ice. Something tells me I will be in the house all day with the rest of my family. Luckily, I have removed all dangerous food (save the sugar cookies ) from the house.
And now its confession time. I have not exercised (save the dancing around Max and I do during the day) since this whole endeavor started.
I don't have an excuse. I actually own a gym membership. On Monday we purchased Tae Bo DVD's which I have done in the past. So what the heck is wrong with me?
I should be running from the house to get some Mikki time away from my crazy children. Instead, I am obsessed with keeping a bedtime chart and helping Max learn to soothe himself to sleep, and the stupid gym does not have day care for children under two years old. Ugggg
Tae Bo was good to me and for me when I did it back in the day.
I do remember being slightly traumatized by his outfit back in the day. He used to wear this electric blue unitard thing that stopped just below the nipples. It took me quite a while to get over the shock.
I think I lost more weight laughing than kicking and punching my way to a fitter me. So, tonight, I am writing this down in order to be held accountable to myself and to anyone who is reading this. Tomorrow, February 22, 2008, I am going to reacquaint myself Billy Blanks. Hopefully, in the new tapes/dvds he is not wearing that electric blue uni-tard that only covered half of his nipples. I remember being so distracted by that in the beginning. I just kept asking "was this intentional? Does he think this is sexy?" I can assure him its not.
I will be sure to give my fashion preview of the Billy Blanks dvds.
Time for bed.
Until the next time,
Your Recovering Fat Girl,
Mikki
today was a better day, eating wise. I actually did the right things by drinking most of all my fluid today. 40oz of water is not only nothin' to sneeze at, but mighty impressive if you ask me. I suggest you keep sneezing to a minimum when you find you have to pay the water bill so often, but I digress.
For some reason, I am really tired today, and really not in the best of moods. I don't know why. Maybe its PMS. Hmmmm, a regular cycle. That's just downright curious! Anyway, I have vowed to snap out of it by going to sleep. That is just sooooo healthy.
Oh, tonight we are expecting snow and then ice. Tim is doing the secret "no school dance" that all Education majors were taught upon obtaining their degrees. I am not sure what it is exactly, but I think it involves baby oil, a hockey puck, and three ice cubes taken from an enemies freezer and a feather.
I had plans for tomorrow. Max and I were going to find a cake for his birthday celebration on Sunday, and some Elmo plates and hats at the party store. Then we were going to find me some work out clothes since Tyra (Banks) has informed me of the correct sports bra I should be wearing. Then we were going to JC Penny and my favorite new store National Wholesale Liquidators to look for curtains for the bedroom. Nowhere in these plans did we ask for the companions of snow and ice. Something tells me I will be in the house all day with the rest of my family. Luckily, I have removed all dangerous food (save the sugar cookies ) from the house.
And now its confession time. I have not exercised (save the dancing around Max and I do during the day) since this whole endeavor started.
I don't have an excuse. I actually own a gym membership. On Monday we purchased Tae Bo DVD's which I have done in the past. So what the heck is wrong with me?
I should be running from the house to get some Mikki time away from my crazy children. Instead, I am obsessed with keeping a bedtime chart and helping Max learn to soothe himself to sleep, and the stupid gym does not have day care for children under two years old. Ugggg
Tae Bo was good to me and for me when I did it back in the day.
I do remember being slightly traumatized by his outfit back in the day. He used to wear this electric blue unitard thing that stopped just below the nipples. It took me quite a while to get over the shock.
I think I lost more weight laughing than kicking and punching my way to a fitter me. So, tonight, I am writing this down in order to be held accountable to myself and to anyone who is reading this. Tomorrow, February 22, 2008, I am going to reacquaint myself Billy Blanks. Hopefully, in the new tapes/dvds he is not wearing that electric blue uni-tard that only covered half of his nipples. I remember being so distracted by that in the beginning. I just kept asking "was this intentional? Does he think this is sexy?" I can assure him its not.
I will be sure to give my fashion preview of the Billy Blanks dvds.
Time for bed.
Until the next time,
Your Recovering Fat Girl,
Mikki
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
And now the hunger
Hi folks!
When we last left our hero, she was lamenting her lack of planning skills, and vowing to not only make a plan, but stick to it.
How is our heroine doing now?
Picture it. Afternoon. She has written down everything she has put in her mouth, and much to her dismay she realizes she really does not have much restriction anymore. She has planned her meals and measured out the half cup of food that is supposed to satisfy her only to realize she is hungry. Still. Uh Oh.
Dr. Boe's words echo in her ears. "Usually, proper restriction is obtained between the third and fourth fills."
My next fill is April 4th. That is approximately five weeks away. Let it be known, that unless I am one of those people whose fills "kick in" two weeks after the initial fill, I might be in trouble. I, however, am not deterred. I have made better choices the past two days, focusing in on protein and not carbs that are my friend. I think I have some type of carb dependence or something.
Once a piece of bread passes my lips its hard to say no to the rest.
Not only is my band filled, my heart is filled with anxiety. Why you ask?
Because, any day now, Tim and I are going to have the "you-didn't-come-from-mommy's -tummy talk." The truth is, I am so apprehensive about this I am not too sure where to begin.
Yes, we took the 16 hour adoption classes. Yes they addressed it, but its different now that the time has come.
Yesterday, I spent some time in the morning at Borders. As I scanned the books from Fertility and Conception to How to be a Teacher, I see what I am searching for.
There is "Adoption for Dummies", All you need to know about Adoption", "Adoption, is it for you?" and the like.
As I thumb through the books I get advice on how to introduce the subject of Adoption to your adopted child. They suggest that you should introduce the concept from the very time you bring them home.
I appreciate their openness, but Houston, we have a problem. Our Adoption was made final ten months ago just shy of our daughter's third birthday. Our Adoption was not one where a couple picked Tim and I out of a book. As a matter of fact, we had very little control over the situation at all.
There were times when we really weren't sure Adoption Day would come.
As I find suggestions as to how to introduce these other persons into our daughter's life I read phrases like "Sheila gave you this blanket. She made it for you when you came home with us from the hospital." and "Beth nursed you and held you and loved you before you came home to our family."
Then I find myself angry.
My baby didn't come home in a cute pink outfit picked out especially for that purpose. No one took the time to get her anything.
My baby came home with clothes from the hospital down to the cap on her head. The hospital was kind enough to send her home with a diaper bag full of pampers and ready made formula. My baby was supposed to be with us for a weekend, a week tops. Thankfully, that weekend turned into three years.
The studies in these books did not have the endless court cases, the continuances, the weekly and then bi-weekly visits. They address these types of situations for children that were once with their birth parents and then adopted at a later date. That also, does not address our situation.
What I got from the books, was something I already knew. We are to make this experience positive. We are to tell her what she needs to know and not sugar coat the truth, but make sure we are age appropriate. And we are not to convey negative feelings about her birth parents to her in anyway.
I have had time to truly examine how I feel about them. (This whole not eating a bowl of ice cream with cookies and dealing with one's feelings is exhausting. No wonder people over eat :-)
I believe that her birth mother loved her. I believe she made poor choices through out her life, and her inability to take care of Noodle was a result of her poor choices.
I have to believe that she was just unable to make the effort to do the right thing by her children.
I will not make excuses for the three visits she made out of the fifteen that were required. I can't explain that. I will not make excuses for the court hearings she missed. I can not fathom why she chose not get any prenatal care, siting she didn't need any. Nor can I commiserate with her addiction that led her to use while she was pregnant with Noodle. I can not explain any of this phenomenon. They were not my choices to make.
As for her birth father, I really can't muster up anything positive at all to say about him. But I will work on it.
But we do have control over telling her the truth which she deserves to know. Wish me (us) luck. Shop Rite really may need to hide the ice cream on this one.
Until the next time,
Your Recovering Fat Girl,
Mikki
When we last left our hero, she was lamenting her lack of planning skills, and vowing to not only make a plan, but stick to it.
How is our heroine doing now?
Picture it. Afternoon. She has written down everything she has put in her mouth, and much to her dismay she realizes she really does not have much restriction anymore. She has planned her meals and measured out the half cup of food that is supposed to satisfy her only to realize she is hungry. Still. Uh Oh.
Dr. Boe's words echo in her ears. "Usually, proper restriction is obtained between the third and fourth fills."
My next fill is April 4th. That is approximately five weeks away. Let it be known, that unless I am one of those people whose fills "kick in" two weeks after the initial fill, I might be in trouble. I, however, am not deterred. I have made better choices the past two days, focusing in on protein and not carbs that are my friend. I think I have some type of carb dependence or something.
Once a piece of bread passes my lips its hard to say no to the rest.
Not only is my band filled, my heart is filled with anxiety. Why you ask?
Because, any day now, Tim and I are going to have the "you-didn't-come-from-mommy's -tummy talk." The truth is, I am so apprehensive about this I am not too sure where to begin.
Yes, we took the 16 hour adoption classes. Yes they addressed it, but its different now that the time has come.
Yesterday, I spent some time in the morning at Borders. As I scanned the books from Fertility and Conception to How to be a Teacher, I see what I am searching for.
There is "Adoption for Dummies", All you need to know about Adoption", "Adoption, is it for you?" and the like.
As I thumb through the books I get advice on how to introduce the subject of Adoption to your adopted child. They suggest that you should introduce the concept from the very time you bring them home.
I appreciate their openness, but Houston, we have a problem. Our Adoption was made final ten months ago just shy of our daughter's third birthday. Our Adoption was not one where a couple picked Tim and I out of a book. As a matter of fact, we had very little control over the situation at all.
There were times when we really weren't sure Adoption Day would come.
As I find suggestions as to how to introduce these other persons into our daughter's life I read phrases like "Sheila gave you this blanket. She made it for you when you came home with us from the hospital." and "Beth nursed you and held you and loved you before you came home to our family."
Then I find myself angry.
My baby didn't come home in a cute pink outfit picked out especially for that purpose. No one took the time to get her anything.
My baby came home with clothes from the hospital down to the cap on her head. The hospital was kind enough to send her home with a diaper bag full of pampers and ready made formula. My baby was supposed to be with us for a weekend, a week tops. Thankfully, that weekend turned into three years.
The studies in these books did not have the endless court cases, the continuances, the weekly and then bi-weekly visits. They address these types of situations for children that were once with their birth parents and then adopted at a later date. That also, does not address our situation.
What I got from the books, was something I already knew. We are to make this experience positive. We are to tell her what she needs to know and not sugar coat the truth, but make sure we are age appropriate. And we are not to convey negative feelings about her birth parents to her in anyway.
I have had time to truly examine how I feel about them. (This whole not eating a bowl of ice cream with cookies and dealing with one's feelings is exhausting. No wonder people over eat :-)
I believe that her birth mother loved her. I believe she made poor choices through out her life, and her inability to take care of Noodle was a result of her poor choices.
I have to believe that she was just unable to make the effort to do the right thing by her children.
I will not make excuses for the three visits she made out of the fifteen that were required. I can't explain that. I will not make excuses for the court hearings she missed. I can not fathom why she chose not get any prenatal care, siting she didn't need any. Nor can I commiserate with her addiction that led her to use while she was pregnant with Noodle. I can not explain any of this phenomenon. They were not my choices to make.
As for her birth father, I really can't muster up anything positive at all to say about him. But I will work on it.
But we do have control over telling her the truth which she deserves to know. Wish me (us) luck. Shop Rite really may need to hide the ice cream on this one.
Until the next time,
Your Recovering Fat Girl,
Mikki
Monday, February 18, 2008
Have a Plan or Plan to Fail
Then again, the best laid plans.....
I really don't remember the last part of that saying, but I do remember it didn't end well.
Alas, I have not planned very well.
Today, I had an Auntie Anne's pretzel. No sugar or cinnamon, just plain with some cheese in the interest of protein. I am sure this was not the best choice of food. Then I had some chicken and vegetable potstickers. I did not drown them in the sugar laden sauce they come with, however. Yay for me (note the sarcasm)
I am not eating six small meals a day. And this not drinking while eating and five minutes before and thirty minutes after is a LOT more challenging than I would have thought. No. I am not whining at all, I am just being truthful.
I am convinced whoever made up the "eat six small meals a day" did not have children. Or a life.
First of all, I am not really hungry in the morning at all. I do well to remember to feed Max. Then again, he doesn't really let you forget that.
Yogurt has become my favorite meal. It allows me not to have to think about what I eat. That is the problem. Today, even though it is not over, has been a little crazy food wise.
This is the hard part. So tonight, before I go to bed I am going to plan what I eat and the time I eat them for tomorrow.
While I am not that thrilled with myself for the past two days with my food choices, I am happy about a couple of things.
On Saturday, Bobby's mother called me (technically, she is my grandmother, but since it was the first time I ever spoke to her she still remains Bobby's mother for now) and I did not feel the need to get a bowl of ice cream topped with a warm, crumbly brownie on top. Instead, I told Tim and we talked about it. I did not stuff any feelings with food.
I only have two more pounds to lose until its an even twenty pounds. I can not remember the last time I lost twenty pounds---not unless you count after I had Maxwell and then I only gained 18, so I guess that really doesn't count.
And lastly, my latest non scale victory (NSV for future reference), my rings are starting to get too big. They were never too tight, but they are definitely loosening up. I am not in any danger of losing my rings, thankfully, but I am looking forward to having them resized one day.
Until the next time,
Your Recovering Fat Girl,
Mikki
I really don't remember the last part of that saying, but I do remember it didn't end well.
Alas, I have not planned very well.
Today, I had an Auntie Anne's pretzel. No sugar or cinnamon, just plain with some cheese in the interest of protein. I am sure this was not the best choice of food. Then I had some chicken and vegetable potstickers. I did not drown them in the sugar laden sauce they come with, however. Yay for me (note the sarcasm)
I am not eating six small meals a day. And this not drinking while eating and five minutes before and thirty minutes after is a LOT more challenging than I would have thought. No. I am not whining at all, I am just being truthful.
I am convinced whoever made up the "eat six small meals a day" did not have children. Or a life.
First of all, I am not really hungry in the morning at all. I do well to remember to feed Max. Then again, he doesn't really let you forget that.
Yogurt has become my favorite meal. It allows me not to have to think about what I eat. That is the problem. Today, even though it is not over, has been a little crazy food wise.
This is the hard part. So tonight, before I go to bed I am going to plan what I eat and the time I eat them for tomorrow.
While I am not that thrilled with myself for the past two days with my food choices, I am happy about a couple of things.
On Saturday, Bobby's mother called me (technically, she is my grandmother, but since it was the first time I ever spoke to her she still remains Bobby's mother for now) and I did not feel the need to get a bowl of ice cream topped with a warm, crumbly brownie on top. Instead, I told Tim and we talked about it. I did not stuff any feelings with food.
I only have two more pounds to lose until its an even twenty pounds. I can not remember the last time I lost twenty pounds---not unless you count after I had Maxwell and then I only gained 18, so I guess that really doesn't count.
And lastly, my latest non scale victory (NSV for future reference), my rings are starting to get too big. They were never too tight, but they are definitely loosening up. I am not in any danger of losing my rings, thankfully, but I am looking forward to having them resized one day.
Until the next time,
Your Recovering Fat Girl,
Mikki
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Valentine's Day
Happy Non Existant Holiday. I used refer to this day, lovingly of course, as "kill Cupid Day". Granted, this was before I met Tim and actually had an official Valentine. In my heart, I still feel its "Kill Cupid Day", but I must admit its alot more fun with Tim and the kids around. The pressure is off, if that makes any sense.
So here I sit, still filled up. With no real appetite. I have now realized that its hard to make breakfast, lunch and dinner for others when you really have no interest in eating. In the interest of being a good sport and semi romantic, I prepared homemade crab and shrimp ravioli with a lemon butter sauce. Sounds gourmet. Tim loved it, I ate two which took me thirty minutes, and Nala was more interested in the bag of candy she received from school for Valentine's Day.
My mind is still learning to catch up with my stomach and the full feeling. The truth is I am not really sure when I am full. I feel like I need to hiccup which helps me know I need to stop eating, however, I do not have the feeling of fullness in my lower stomach like I did prior to surgery.
Having said that I have begun to take stock of when I eat just out of sheer boredom or emotional eating. I hate to admit it, but I do that more often than not. I guess thats where the "therapy" part of this journey is supposed to come in.
Well, between me, you and the keyboard I am done with therapy. I am in no mood to pay $25.00 a week to dredge up stuff that happened years ago that may now cause me to overeat. That is what the blog is for. I understand that I eat emotionally. I understand that I eat when I am frustrated, bored, or upset. My surprising revaletion is I eat when I am tired. I recognize these issues. Instead of going to a therapist to tell him or her these things when I can tell everyone else who is willing to listen for free!
I will put the $25.00 per week aside for the hot new wardrobe I will be buying this time next year.
Until the next time,
Your recovering fat girl
Mikki
So here I sit, still filled up. With no real appetite. I have now realized that its hard to make breakfast, lunch and dinner for others when you really have no interest in eating. In the interest of being a good sport and semi romantic, I prepared homemade crab and shrimp ravioli with a lemon butter sauce. Sounds gourmet. Tim loved it, I ate two which took me thirty minutes, and Nala was more interested in the bag of candy she received from school for Valentine's Day.
My mind is still learning to catch up with my stomach and the full feeling. The truth is I am not really sure when I am full. I feel like I need to hiccup which helps me know I need to stop eating, however, I do not have the feeling of fullness in my lower stomach like I did prior to surgery.
Having said that I have begun to take stock of when I eat just out of sheer boredom or emotional eating. I hate to admit it, but I do that more often than not. I guess thats where the "therapy" part of this journey is supposed to come in.
Well, between me, you and the keyboard I am done with therapy. I am in no mood to pay $25.00 a week to dredge up stuff that happened years ago that may now cause me to overeat. That is what the blog is for. I understand that I eat emotionally. I understand that I eat when I am frustrated, bored, or upset. My surprising revaletion is I eat when I am tired. I recognize these issues. Instead of going to a therapist to tell him or her these things when I can tell everyone else who is willing to listen for free!
I will put the $25.00 per week aside for the hot new wardrobe I will be buying this time next year.
Until the next time,
Your recovering fat girl
Mikki
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Fill Me Up
Yesterday was my first appointment to have my deflated band inflated. I would like to report that I had absolutely no apprehension about this endeavor, but I would like to be honest. For those who have no clue about this band, let me give you a brief lesson.
I liken it to a napkin ring that is placed around your upper stomach. It is put in place with a little clamp. Think of plastic handcuffs they use at amusement parks when you have been naughty, or the ties they put on toys to keep them in place. Ok. Inside of the napkin ring are little pockets that are filled with the saline solution. This allows for the band to tighten around your stomach and make your stomach pouch smaller. Therefore, you can eat very little at a time, become fuller faster and stay that way longer and lose weight.
Now onto my first fill.
I busied myself in order to not really think about what was going to happen. Then, as they left me in the room before Dr. Boe came in I saw the table. Two packaged needles, both with liquid. I didn't see past the needles. I was mesmerized. I look over to Max and Mikaela, the baby and toddler who have accompanied me on my journey. " I don't even LIKE needles? Why would I even sign up for this?" Max responds with "na na na na naaaaaaaaaa". Mikaela looks at me like I have four heads. and opts not to respond.
WONDERFUL! Perhaps, I should have gone for gastric bypass. Granted, they rerout your insides, and you might miss some important nutrients, but its a one shot deal with no needles involved.
Then there is the fear of throwing up. I have read too many posts where some people are too tight and they can't even swallow their own saliva right after a fill. What if this happens to me? I can't afford to vomit. It's so unfabulous and Tim just cleaned my car. Oh my GOD what have I done?
Before I can have a full on anxiety attack, Dr. Boe comes in all goodness, cheer and light.
"Mikki! How are you?"
I tell him I am doing well, he congratulates me on my 14 pound weight loss (I will stop for applause here. I am not too proud to prompt.) and tells me to lie down. I can no longere see the needles, but I know they are there.
"Ok, you know, I am not a fan of needles." I blurt out.
Dr. Boe laughs and tells me not to worry and he will talk me through it. And he did. First is the betadine, the next will be the first needle. You will feel a pinch, a sting and burning, and then it will be over. Then will be the needle with the saline and we will fill you up.
The whole ordeal took about two minutes from start to finish, give or take thirty seconds. It was relatively painless and I even told the Doctor he remained on my Christmas card list. He laughed and said he was relieved.
I drank some water before I left to make sure I was not too tight and then I was released into the wild world of food with a partially filled band.
So far, so good. Yesterday, I existed off of two Dannon Lite N Fit vanilla yogurts, some fish chowder, and a protein shake, a far cry from the six small meals and 64 oz of fluid I am supposed to consume per day.
Today I have done better. Ok, thats not entirely true. I had my yogurt, and a protein shake. I just am not hungry. Its very hard to think of food when you are not hungry. I can't say I feel too much restriction yet, but I can say I could easily forget to eat.
I just need a couple of days to adjust and I will keep you posted.
Your recovering fat girl,
Mikki
I liken it to a napkin ring that is placed around your upper stomach. It is put in place with a little clamp. Think of plastic handcuffs they use at amusement parks when you have been naughty, or the ties they put on toys to keep them in place. Ok. Inside of the napkin ring are little pockets that are filled with the saline solution. This allows for the band to tighten around your stomach and make your stomach pouch smaller. Therefore, you can eat very little at a time, become fuller faster and stay that way longer and lose weight.
Now onto my first fill.
I busied myself in order to not really think about what was going to happen. Then, as they left me in the room before Dr. Boe came in I saw the table. Two packaged needles, both with liquid. I didn't see past the needles. I was mesmerized. I look over to Max and Mikaela, the baby and toddler who have accompanied me on my journey. " I don't even LIKE needles? Why would I even sign up for this?" Max responds with "na na na na naaaaaaaaaa". Mikaela looks at me like I have four heads. and opts not to respond.
WONDERFUL! Perhaps, I should have gone for gastric bypass. Granted, they rerout your insides, and you might miss some important nutrients, but its a one shot deal with no needles involved.
Then there is the fear of throwing up. I have read too many posts where some people are too tight and they can't even swallow their own saliva right after a fill. What if this happens to me? I can't afford to vomit. It's so unfabulous and Tim just cleaned my car. Oh my GOD what have I done?
Before I can have a full on anxiety attack, Dr. Boe comes in all goodness, cheer and light.
"Mikki! How are you?"
I tell him I am doing well, he congratulates me on my 14 pound weight loss (I will stop for applause here. I am not too proud to prompt.) and tells me to lie down. I can no longere see the needles, but I know they are there.
"Ok, you know, I am not a fan of needles." I blurt out.
Dr. Boe laughs and tells me not to worry and he will talk me through it. And he did. First is the betadine, the next will be the first needle. You will feel a pinch, a sting and burning, and then it will be over. Then will be the needle with the saline and we will fill you up.
The whole ordeal took about two minutes from start to finish, give or take thirty seconds. It was relatively painless and I even told the Doctor he remained on my Christmas card list. He laughed and said he was relieved.
I drank some water before I left to make sure I was not too tight and then I was released into the wild world of food with a partially filled band.
So far, so good. Yesterday, I existed off of two Dannon Lite N Fit vanilla yogurts, some fish chowder, and a protein shake, a far cry from the six small meals and 64 oz of fluid I am supposed to consume per day.
Today I have done better. Ok, thats not entirely true. I had my yogurt, and a protein shake. I just am not hungry. Its very hard to think of food when you are not hungry. I can't say I feel too much restriction yet, but I can say I could easily forget to eat.
I just need a couple of days to adjust and I will keep you posted.
Your recovering fat girl,
Mikki
Monday, February 11, 2008
Telling the World of my latest adventure
"So, what is it that you wanted to tell me, Mikki?"
As Nala jumped around our room, and Max babbled on our bed, I turned the computer screen around so that Tim could see.
"Now, before you get all freaked out make sure you read the whole thing. The one on the right, not the left. I've researched it and I think its a good idea, but I need for you to be ok with this also. It doesn't affect just me."
I wait as Tim reads and busy myself with caring for children who are not paying me the least bit of attention. I don't know why I am nervous. Tim has always been supportive of me no matter what it was I wanted to do. We talk about everything, we share everything, having our most intimate conversations in the most unconventional settings. We are married for goodness sakes. He has seen me hang over the toilet with morning sickness, cry, fall, walk around nude.....so why did I suddenly feel so utterly exposed and vulnerable?
I can feel my heart beating in my ears and I am not sure if I am even breathing. I look up when I believe he is finished."Well?" I say as I pick up Max using him as a security blanket.
Tim smiles, leans over and gives me a kiss and says "I support you one hundred percent. I want to keep you around for as long as I can."I smile. That's why we're married.
And so began our journey into Weight Loss Surgery.On November 12, 2007, Tim and I sat through a seminar to hear about the Lap Band procedure at the Barix Clinics in Langhorne, Pa. It answered our questions and gave us what we needed to make an informed decision. After hours of research, some doctor's appointments and awesome insurance my surgery was performed on January 4, 2008.
I struggled in the beginning of who, if anyone ,I would tell besides Tim. Did I really want to answer all of those questions? What if I failed? Did I want people looking at absolutely everything I put in my mouth? Was I willing to share how I got to this point? What could I possibly say to those who would have absolutely no way of understanding the battle of the bulge? Then I thought about it. Here I was taking a positive step towards a healthier me, why would I not be proud of myself and want to share my news?
Losing weight is a very complex issue. It's more than numbers on the scale. It affects the way others view you and most important how you view yourself. The person you are on the inside is never accurately reflected on the outside. If you are overweight you are viewed, by some, as being less intelligent, less active, less attractive, and somehow inferior. I understand I am none of those things and after a while refused to diet or address the issue. If I lost weight was I not then buying into the myth that my happiness was entwined with numbers on the scale? If I strived to achieve the lofty size 4 was I not giving into the pressure that is put upon us by society ? Was I then admitting that something really was wrong with me the way I am? Have I sold out?
Then there is the issue of other people. What would they think or say? Admittedly, I did not think of this at first. The people who I needed to be on board with this were, so it never dawned on me that there would be any reaction that was less than supportive, but it turned out I was wrong. For those who do not understand my undertaking I recognize they just do not understand this battle. They probably did not have their first organized diet of Weight Watchers in the fifth grade. They did not have to find creative ways to hide the V8 juice in the thermos from their arch nemesis before she realized you were on a diet and then all hell broke loose.
They have not sat in the dressing room of the fat girl store and cried because, for better or for worse the clothes actually fit! Nor have they encountered the great aunt who, after not seeing you in years greets you not with "hello" but "why are you so fat?" Those traumas are now pretty laughable to me,however they were not at the time they happened. And I will not have them happen to me again.
There is nothing wrong with being apart of the big girl club, I am just ready to turn in my card.
So what lead me to this point? Despite turning points in my life in the past there was no one specific event. Instead, I have three reasons.Tim, Nala and Maxwell. I owe Tim a lifetime that we promised to spend together.
We cannot have 58 more years on our contract if I am not here to honor my part. I owe it to my children to be as healthy as possible so that I can raise them, love them, play with them, cry with them and grow with them. I do not have any intentions on being the "fat mommy" picking up her babies and watching them from the side of the park. I want to be there to play with them and enjoy good health. And if it means I get to bypass the fat girl store and buy off the rack in the normal store then so be it.
I have finally realized that I have not sold out; instead, I have bought into a future that I deserve.
The process of losing weight via any surgery is not the "easy way out" as some suggest. When drinking nothing but protein shakes and broth for two weeks becomes "easy", when you look at your tummy and see five little incisions decorating your outside becomes "easy" someone please let me know. Losing weight with any undertaking, even surgery, is not easy. The Lap Band is not gastric bypass and the weight will not fall off over night, nor is the Lap Band a cure for any food issues I may have. While it will help me control how much I eat, it will be up to me to decide WHAT I put in my mouth.
Most important, I do not believe for one moment that losing weight will make me happy. Lucky for me, I am not only happy already, I am content. I love my life. I have a husband who adores me and supports me even through my craziness. I have two children who drive me crazy and make me laugh daily. I could not be more proud of them. I have parents who love me and support me, parents-in-law who support me and with whom I am proud to share the same name. And for the first time in my life, losing weight is merely an important journey in my life but it is by no means all consuming as it was in the past.
It is no longer about the size of my pants or what store I can "fit in to".It is about being true to myself, feeling that I deserve all things that are good to me and for me. It is about being healthy. It is, thankfully, no longer about being loved.
If you would like to know more about the Lap Band surgery, you are welcome to check out Lapbandtalk.com. They have a wealth of information on this procedure.
As Nala jumped around our room, and Max babbled on our bed, I turned the computer screen around so that Tim could see.
"Now, before you get all freaked out make sure you read the whole thing. The one on the right, not the left. I've researched it and I think its a good idea, but I need for you to be ok with this also. It doesn't affect just me."
I wait as Tim reads and busy myself with caring for children who are not paying me the least bit of attention. I don't know why I am nervous. Tim has always been supportive of me no matter what it was I wanted to do. We talk about everything, we share everything, having our most intimate conversations in the most unconventional settings. We are married for goodness sakes. He has seen me hang over the toilet with morning sickness, cry, fall, walk around nude.....so why did I suddenly feel so utterly exposed and vulnerable?
I can feel my heart beating in my ears and I am not sure if I am even breathing. I look up when I believe he is finished."Well?" I say as I pick up Max using him as a security blanket.
Tim smiles, leans over and gives me a kiss and says "I support you one hundred percent. I want to keep you around for as long as I can."I smile. That's why we're married.
And so began our journey into Weight Loss Surgery.On November 12, 2007, Tim and I sat through a seminar to hear about the Lap Band procedure at the Barix Clinics in Langhorne, Pa. It answered our questions and gave us what we needed to make an informed decision. After hours of research, some doctor's appointments and awesome insurance my surgery was performed on January 4, 2008.
I struggled in the beginning of who, if anyone ,I would tell besides Tim. Did I really want to answer all of those questions? What if I failed? Did I want people looking at absolutely everything I put in my mouth? Was I willing to share how I got to this point? What could I possibly say to those who would have absolutely no way of understanding the battle of the bulge? Then I thought about it. Here I was taking a positive step towards a healthier me, why would I not be proud of myself and want to share my news?
Losing weight is a very complex issue. It's more than numbers on the scale. It affects the way others view you and most important how you view yourself. The person you are on the inside is never accurately reflected on the outside. If you are overweight you are viewed, by some, as being less intelligent, less active, less attractive, and somehow inferior. I understand I am none of those things and after a while refused to diet or address the issue. If I lost weight was I not then buying into the myth that my happiness was entwined with numbers on the scale? If I strived to achieve the lofty size 4 was I not giving into the pressure that is put upon us by society ? Was I then admitting that something really was wrong with me the way I am? Have I sold out?
Then there is the issue of other people. What would they think or say? Admittedly, I did not think of this at first. The people who I needed to be on board with this were, so it never dawned on me that there would be any reaction that was less than supportive, but it turned out I was wrong. For those who do not understand my undertaking I recognize they just do not understand this battle. They probably did not have their first organized diet of Weight Watchers in the fifth grade. They did not have to find creative ways to hide the V8 juice in the thermos from their arch nemesis before she realized you were on a diet and then all hell broke loose.
They have not sat in the dressing room of the fat girl store and cried because, for better or for worse the clothes actually fit! Nor have they encountered the great aunt who, after not seeing you in years greets you not with "hello" but "why are you so fat?" Those traumas are now pretty laughable to me,however they were not at the time they happened. And I will not have them happen to me again.
There is nothing wrong with being apart of the big girl club, I am just ready to turn in my card.
So what lead me to this point? Despite turning points in my life in the past there was no one specific event. Instead, I have three reasons.Tim, Nala and Maxwell. I owe Tim a lifetime that we promised to spend together.
We cannot have 58 more years on our contract if I am not here to honor my part. I owe it to my children to be as healthy as possible so that I can raise them, love them, play with them, cry with them and grow with them. I do not have any intentions on being the "fat mommy" picking up her babies and watching them from the side of the park. I want to be there to play with them and enjoy good health. And if it means I get to bypass the fat girl store and buy off the rack in the normal store then so be it.
I have finally realized that I have not sold out; instead, I have bought into a future that I deserve.
The process of losing weight via any surgery is not the "easy way out" as some suggest. When drinking nothing but protein shakes and broth for two weeks becomes "easy", when you look at your tummy and see five little incisions decorating your outside becomes "easy" someone please let me know. Losing weight with any undertaking, even surgery, is not easy. The Lap Band is not gastric bypass and the weight will not fall off over night, nor is the Lap Band a cure for any food issues I may have. While it will help me control how much I eat, it will be up to me to decide WHAT I put in my mouth.
Most important, I do not believe for one moment that losing weight will make me happy. Lucky for me, I am not only happy already, I am content. I love my life. I have a husband who adores me and supports me even through my craziness. I have two children who drive me crazy and make me laugh daily. I could not be more proud of them. I have parents who love me and support me, parents-in-law who support me and with whom I am proud to share the same name. And for the first time in my life, losing weight is merely an important journey in my life but it is by no means all consuming as it was in the past.
It is no longer about the size of my pants or what store I can "fit in to".It is about being true to myself, feeling that I deserve all things that are good to me and for me. It is about being healthy. It is, thankfully, no longer about being loved.
If you would like to know more about the Lap Band surgery, you are welcome to check out Lapbandtalk.com. They have a wealth of information on this procedure.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
