Mirena

I wanted to share my experience with the birth control IUD Mirena because finding other people's stories were the only reason I didn't feel so awful and crazy.

I had Mirena inserted in mid December, 8 weeks after giving birth to my son and had no problems with the appointment. I experienced some cramping and bled for a little over a month (which I was alarmed about because I wasn't told that it was normal to experience a month of heavy bleeding) but other than that, nothing abnormal.

My first indication that something was off was that I had been working out, first mildly with yoga and then strenuously with high impact cardio for, at the time of my concern developing, 7 weeks and eating a very strict diet with a calorie intake that never exceeded 1500. I had not lost one pound. I could feel I was getting stronger but my weight didn't move at all. My measurements weren't changing either and then I found I was  actually gaining. Now I know, this is everyone's favorite argument, "muscle weighs more than fat, you're gaining muscle". Yes. I know, But what I was expereincing just made no sense. So I kept working and weighing and waiting and the scale never changed.

In the beginning of January my scalp became so intensely itchy. I smeared coconut oil on it every night and tried to shower as sparingly as possible hoping the natural oils my scalp produces would balance out or something - I have no idea I'm not a hair doctor. For a year before I was able to wash my hair once every three days and then with this I suddenly found myself needing to shower everyday because of THE DANDRUFF. Huge flakes, guys. I could provide the snow for a stage production of A Christmas Carol. It was terribly embarrassing. I asked my friend, who could be considered a "hair doctor", as I officially stated earlier and she suggested Aveda's scalp benefits shampoo which I bought the next day.





(Sidenote guys: it took me a LONG time to convert over to the fancy shampoo and conditioner crew but it is so absolutely worth it. I don't have to use as much and my whole family uses it. I know the price tag is stroke inducing but our family used an $80 bottle of condition her A YEAR. And my hair feels better than it ever has. *cue shiny hair toss over the shoulder, laughing to the heavens* )

So, I'm overweight, trapped in overweight mode, itching my head like I have fleas, danderry (which is a word now) and also very, very depressed. There were life situations happening at the time but I could never quite pinpoint why exactly I was so down. It got bad enough I went in to see a doctor about it.
Those life situations also led me to think that they were causing me stress headaches as well. These headaches would come on suddenly and were sharp. I experienced them probably every other day.

I chalked every symptom up to another issue, which it could have been. But as I was researching how to cure my dandruff problem, I found a likely culprit to be a hormone imbalance. Wait a sec. Hormones. Ok. So I Google birth control and dandruff. Lots of hits. I Google Dandruff and Mirena. Lots of people experiencing the exact same thing I was. Itchy scalp and some had the dandruff too. The weight gain or inability to lose any weight. HEADACHES.

I had been keeping tabs on the weight gain and Mirena debate. I say debate because every health care professional and medical website says that birth control, and Mirena specifically, does not cause weight gain. However, hundreds of women, including myself, are experiencing it. Women were gaining 20lbs since Mirena and their doctors were dismissing it. Every woman I saw that expereinced weight gain and had it removed said they did begin experiencing weight loss after, some rapid and some slow going.

I had my Mirena removed a little over a week ago and my dandruff is gone. My scalp is only a little itchy but pretty normal for it being the middle of winter. My depression has eased quite a bit (to be clear, I didn't know depression was a side effect until after I had it removed. It was yet another "aha" moment.) No headaches anymore. And I've lost one pound. Whoopee. I'll take one pound over the ZERO pounds I've lost in 12 weeks of diet and exercise. (That's another blog, though.)

So I wanted to write this to be another voice in the sea of voices saying I know my body and I am right. You know your body, you know when something is off despite others telling you you are wrong. My nurse and doctor both appeased my reasoning for removing the Mirena after 6 weeks of it but were careful not to tell me I was right. I don't mean that in a rude way, I love my doctor, but I also know what she's learned is not matching up with what's happening to me and that's ok but I know I am right. 

I want to be very clear that I am well aware that Mirena works great for some women. Two women close to me use it and love it. I am totally not against Mirena. It just doesn't work everyone and that's totally okay. It just really, really sucks to be one of those women and to have people more educated than you telling you you are wrong and continue suffering.

Freakin uteruses, man. They're so powerful. Mine is definitely winning in the war of control and totally giving me the finger.

Book 2016, Chapter 1

In July of 2010, we visited a church in Lawrence, KS that sparked excitement and hope that was electric. We moved our family to Lawrence to be a part of it. 

In August of 2012, I wrote about what this church, EastLake, had done for us in the two years we had spent in the life changing love and community it was composed of.

Now in January of 2016, I write a goodbye to it.

We're in the middle of something big and heavy.

EastLake itself has been something bigger than I could have ever imagined. I've always been on a never ending search for God and sense and purpose. EastLake became an incredibly safe place for me to do that. And if God ever makes Himself known to Earth, if He ever decides to show Himself to the people He made, if He ever personally intervenes on behalf of those He loves, He did so with EastLake.

We came to EastLake ready for a new adventure and good Lord did we get one.
I had spent most of my life trying to make sense of Christianity and when we arrived at EastLake, ready to drive our roots into the ground,  I was also in the throes of some serious self righteous, holier than thou bullshit I thought I needed to be to be a good Christian. Talk after talk felt directly addressed to me - challenging me to forgive those who hurt me, apologize to those I hurt, soften my heart to vulnerability, break down the walls previous churches help me build, open my heart to the searching I still felt compelled to do and see, finally see, people's hearts through their stories and hurts.

Not only that, but a few months after relocating and beginning to plug in at Eastlake, I was devastated by personal turmoil that ravaged my heart, marriage and trust in anyone again. The community and people at EastLake were the ground when mine crumbled beneath me. They were there before I knew I needed them. They spoke love and change and demonstrated acceptance and importance the way I heard Jesus had. It was awe inspiring.

It IS awe inspiring.

EastLake will soon be closing its doors. Not because no one shows up, not because of some crazy scandal, not because it's broke, or broken. Because it's time. And boy does my heart ache over it. The grieving it invokes is unlike what I've experienced before. I'm aching that I have to explain to my kids what's going on, angry that it's ending, excited for another new chapter, hopeless that we'll ever find something like it again, thankful when I look back, fearful I'll lose my people.

I've been a somber shell or a crying mess or a strong and optimistic bulwark. Some of my closest friends, who are in leadership positions, already know and we see in each other's eyes this terribly confusing storm of emotions. The meeting where our lead pastor shared what was coming was met with an amazing response of hugs, tears and quiet hope. Quiet hope is definitely the front runner in my emotions lately. I worry that these last 5 in a half years will be those golden years you look back on. I worry what's in front of me is hard and dark and lonely. I worry I'll lose my people. These people watched me ugly cry and work through my darkness and make really dumbass jokes. They're my people.

On top of that, my husband then needed a job and every lead was crashing and burning. If being a parent to 3 kids, including a newborn, living in a single income family with that single income teetering on the brink of dissolution doesn't send you into a anxious, nauseated panic...then you must have more stability than I because I've been a hot, hot mess.

2016 will be an interesting year. If I weren't actually living it, I would be excited as hell. I love new chapters. I love adventures. I love change. But I am living it. And I'm consciously reminding myself to enjoy what I can in everything happening.
I will move on, with my people, to something wonderful. Maybe a new church, maybe just boozey nights with lots of laughing.

My husband and I decided this will be the time he starts his business. We both have known he would own his own business someday. He is the most entrepreneurial person I know. He has the heart, mind, creativity and discipline to do it beautifully. I just thought we'd be like, 40 when it happens. But as the chapter of this year unfolds, it seems increasingly obvious that now is the time. Venturing into this uncharted territory with 3 small children in tow is terrifying but sometimes embracing the exciting and terrifying leads you into purpose.

Having decided that, things are absolutely just as scary but there's a direction, whereas before I felt like I was dispatched into a lifeboat with no compass and praying our paddles work.

These next few months will be increasingly difficult to process. EastLake has given me much I will never forget and will forever, eternally be grateful for. It didn't exist as long as I wish, with all my heart, that it could have but it fulfilled so much in its time. I fully intend to take heart, grab  my paddle, follow my compass without falter and bring others into my lifeboat. (As much as an introvert can, really.)

EastLake gave me hope. I will go and do likewise.

Chili

I don't have some super cool name for this. Maybe I need to brainstorm one. But I finally came up with my own perfect chili. As it turns out, I'm picky about it. I want it to have a lot of substance but I don't want it too much like soup. So here it is, after dozens of attempts, my perfect ratio.

Food. Bright and delicious food.

Chili

2 lbs ground beef or turkey

1 can ( approx 15oz) diced tomatoes

1 can chili beans (or red beans)

1 can black beans, rinsed

1 large onion, diced

4 pieces of celery, chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 cups water

Approx 15 oz tomato sauce 

1 package chili seasoning (I used to make my own and gave up because Alid's 50 cent packages tasted better)

1 butternut squash, peeled and chopped

Brown meat, drain. 

Add meat and garlic. Cook for one minute. 

Add everything else and let simmer for about an hour, or until squash is cooked through.

Or you can put it all in the crockpot after the meat has browned on low for as long as you want. 

I know. Super directional and specific. But I love it. 

Nom.

#postbabybody

I have found myself in a daily battle with myself. 

I loathe this post baby body.

I am trying my damnedest to get to a better place - some days physically by working out extra hard and some days mentally by just accepting it. One day last week it was mentally; I decided to embrace who I am and took a picture of my belly. It was a moment of weakness honesty. I went to post it to Instagram because we're all about honesty these days and when I searched the hashtag #postbabybody, I found ONE picture of a woman in the same boat as me. Everyone else was in super, incredible shape with muscles and abs and adorable outfits (or lack of outfits) and just looking uber hott. They were promoting a diet or product or supplement, or just themselves. And wow did my stupid, honest little belly pic feel like a joke. 

Ughhh, who the hull posted that water bed of a belly.

With my first baby I ate anything and everything so I easily and quickly gained a lot of weight; unhealthy weight. It took a year of hard workouts, strict diets and dogged determination but I got back to a healthy place - body, mind and lifestyle.

With my last pregnancy I was breastfeeding and the baby weight just fell off with no effort. One day I put my pants on and they literally fell down. It was a magical moment of glee. 

This time, I GAINED mileage of body despite my best efforts. I had a terrible pain in my upper right side when I ate so past 33 weeks I didn't eat much during the day at all. I tried to do workouts mostly focusing on my arms and legs but didn't stave off the pounds either. I was convinced that once I had baby and started breastfeeding, the heavy body I was trapped in would finally surrender and I would lose the weight like I did before. I mean, that's what everyone says happens. "Breast is best and blah blah blah but have you HEARD about how it helps you lose the baby weight?"
Wrong. It didn't. It hasn't. 

I was desperate. I limited my calories to 1600. I was living on fruit and veggie smoothies for a couple weeks. And not a single pound was shed. Not a one. My clothing size is bigger than when I was 9 months pregnant and it's infuriating.

I have never had a very good relationship with food.

This is a part of me I have only talked about with one other person in my life. Like many, maybe most, other girls, I struggled with an eating disorder for a long time. Beginning in middle school I ferociously nitpicked myself and used food as a way to punish and fix myself. It carried over into high school and then into college. It really didn't begin to get better until I met my husband when I was 20. 

Through our relationship he has checked in on me when the thought arose or a concern was developed. I've had to discover how to find value in myself and it began by taking care of who I was. 
Something like an eating disorder isn't something you're cured from, I don't think, because I think about it almost every day. I have triggers and times when my depression leads me to the precipice of...food stress, I'll call it. 

Anyway, all that to say I have a tumultuous relationship with food. A love/hate relationship, if you will, because I f***ing love food. So then my head decides I don't deserve it and my stomach says, "Eff you, controlling asshole!"

There have been two different days where I have found myself fighting back tears and have googled, "Does breastfeeding make you gain weight?" Lo and behold, I found several articles saying that yes, in fact, it can and here are science reasons why. 
Like this super encouraging article: http://www.popsugar.com/moms/How-Breastfeeding-Can-Make-You-Gain-Weight-37837572

It's reassuring and encouraging to read posts like that.
And then on a particularly hard day I see a picture circulating on Facebook of Amy Schumer, au naturale, not givin a fuuuuuuu**. (I realize I've censored that word several different ways in this post - whatevs.) And it's *ucking amazing. (See what I did there?)

I think she looks beautiful. I love how ballsy she is in general but to pose with such confidence instills that in people like me. I saw myself in her picture and thought, "She looks amazing...so what's so different about me?" Nothing. I birthed a freaking human being and it's badass.


So I workout, I drink my kefir, watch my calories, say a prayer and wait for the magical day when my personal nightmare of not recognizing my own body is over.

Until then, #postbabybody. 

My belly button looks like the north star - just in time for Christmas!

In all seriousness, love yourself. I do more now than I have in the past and it's worth it. You're worth it. I promise.

Atticus Palmer

Years and years ago I watched To Kill A Mockingbird for the first time. I was too young to really understand the deeper elements of the story but what I remember sticking with me was 1) the mystery and intrigue of Boo Radley, 2) how much Scout and I both enjoyed being outside getting into adventures with our friends and 3) that Atticus Finch reminded me of my dad. 

When I read the book and watched the movie as an older teen, what stuck with me then was 1) the mystery and beauty of Boo Radley, 2) the horrible story of Tom Robinson and 3) how much Atticus Finch reminded me if my dad.

My dad is easily, truly, the most kind hearted man I have ever met. His selflessness made him the best father. His desire to take care of others taught me empathy. His love of literature led me into the powerful outlet I found in writing. His deep heart for justice and fairness makes him tender to other's pain and suffering.

I loved the name Atticus because it's a strong name that's interesting and deeply rooted. I knew if I had a son I wanted to name him after my dad and his name would be Atticus to honor both my dad and the character Harper Lee created in her classic. 

My senior year of high school I took home one of those robot babies to care for over the weekend. So duh I named him Atticus.

He's actually Atticus Palmer, he was born October 5th, 2015 and he weighed 9 lbs 1oz and measured 21 in but this could still pass as a legit certificate.

10 years later, on my birthday, I got to meet my Atticus. 

Atticus, like his sister Isla, took his ever sweet time arriving which I didn't expect because of all of the stories of quick and early (or at least prompt) births I'd heard regarding 3rd children. Nope. He would likely still be in there 6 weeks postpartum if we hadn't kicked him out.

In the last week of September, I was utterly, miserably 39 weeks pregnant. My appointments weren't showing my body to be making any kind of progress towards labor anytime soon. I was locked up tight. I met with my doctor and told her that my last baby was large, she had to be induced and I wanted to prepare to do the same this time around because hell. no. am I pushing out a 10 pound baby if I don't have to. I was measuring on the larger side of "on track", which is good and all, but did nothing solid for my concern for a mammoth baby coming out of there naturally.

Huge.

After talking to my doctor, we could either schedule an induction on October 4th or wait until the next week. My physician, Dr Mercado, who I will refer to her by name now (because duh why didn't I earlier) was a little hesitant to schedule the induction date because my birthday is on the 5th and she wasn't sure how much I would love being in the hospital with all kinds of vagina pains happening on my birthday. I told her you know, when you're turning 29 you don't exactly need the day off to party into oblivion and the idea of a baby being on the outside rather than the inside of my body earlier was very appealing, so we scheduled it.

On Sunday, October 4th, my husband, Palmer and my two girls and I went to church like normal, then joined my parents for my favorite pizza at SPIN, did some baby shopping at Target and hugged major hugs before Palmer drove me back to the hospital to be admitted. Last time I was induced the good old fashioned way - breaking the water. This time was all new and different. I was given a medication called "Cervidil", I believe, which softened the cervix so my body would be more ready to go when the time came.

I was given the drug, strapped to a bunch of monitors and wires and told to sleep tight. I chatted with Palmer and then he went home to sleep while he could. I brought my book (Gillian Flynn's 'Dark Places-totally light, uplifting read for a night before baby hospital stay) and loaded new games on my phone prepared to kill lots of time. I slept very restlessly because when you're as giant as a walrus trying to sleep on a hospital bed, it's hard to sleep well. So I tossed and turned and each time I moved a nurse had to readjust my monitors so they could read baby. So it was a long night.

The rest of the next day, October 5th, is a blur, honestly. I remember Isla's birth very well. I guess because it was beautifully easy. But 6 weeks after the day Atticus was born is still a bleary memory. I remember at one point getting my IV and the "IV therapy" team had to do it because I have a tendency to pass out (thanks mom). They put it in my hand and I could feel it anytime I used that hand so that sucked and made me queasy.

Here's my sexy needle hand getting ready to get in the bath. I've personally never experienced anything sexier.

I was very insistent on using essential oils in the labor and birth process so I took a bath in oils that were supposed to help prep the body for labor. Except I accidentally put too much peppermint oil in which I learned very quickly when my body felt way too hot and way too cold at the same time and I was kind of hurting but this was my one bath so I just sucked it up and told myself it was good for me. At least for my sinuses.

I get out and get help back to bed and wait for the oils to kick in. Spoiler alert: they don't. But that's ok.

They later redo my IV and relocate it into my forearm which is better for my sensitive little veins and delicate little feelings. Also, the placement in the hand was causing swelling they were concerned about so, lucky me, they called the "IV therapy" team to redo it again.

I get checked every few hours and I'm not progressing at all. My cervix is a little softer but not much and I'm not dilating. AWESOME. So then we break the water.

When they did that with Isla, I remember thinking, "Oh, THAT'S what it's like when your water breaks'. It's unmistakable. This time, dude, it was intense. Dr Mercado broke my water and we all made our passing, "woo's" because, well, it worked, but then it just didn't stop. One nurse leaned towards Dr. Mercado and stated in the form of a question, "This is copious..?" which Dr. Mercado replied with a definitive yes. That nurse then turned to grab more towels and she slipped and almost fell to the floor.

She slipped in my amniotic fluid and almost faceplanted. To this day I can't decide if I should be mortified or continue to laugh. 

Short backstory, through the last half of my pregnancy I had a pain in my upper right side that continued to get worse. I went in to get it checked out thinking it was preeclampsia, which I had with my first pregnancy. It wasn't, So it got more and more intense, especially after I ate, and they couldn't find a reason. When I got my epidural and gave feedback on my pain score, I would always reply that my pain was managed except for that pain in the upper right side. I rated it an 8-9 on the pain scale they have. One nurse, my favorite who almost biffed it in my amniotic fluid, was the only one who seemed to be aware and slightly concerned about it. It felt like an organ about to burst. When they popped my water, the pain was GONE. I was thrilled. They determined that the pain must have been the excessive fluid putting pressure on my ribs. That sucked but I was so thankful it was over.

So I was certain once they broke my water that labor would progress quickly because that's what happened last time. Right? Wrong. They checked my dilation every couple of hours and I was progressing about one centimeter every hour or two. And then I just stopped.

It was dark now on Monday, October 5th, when I was sure I would have a baby by now. I had tried different positions and essential oils and things to get this going and nothing was working. I have an iron clad cervix, is what I'm getting at.

I was so defeated. And then about 3 nurses came in and they were calmly working and explaining that baby's heart rate was reading too low and they needed to get a better read from better monitors, which means something other than the external belly monitors.

I remember holding it together until they put the oxygen mask on and laid me down to check me and use the scalp monitor. 

If you haven't had a baby before or haven't heard of those, it's hella creepy sounding, I know. And it's worse when I describe it. They have a monitor on a long swab that they screw the tiniest bit into the baby's head to get a better heart read. Awful, I know. It's really not that bad but in the moment my walls of strength were crumbling fast. I laid back with the mask on and I cried. I shook and cried and couldn't talk to explain why I was. I didn't even know why I was. I felt strong until that moment and then I felt like I just couldn't do it and my baby was going to be in trouble and things would get scary and complicated.

Eventually I calmed down and the mask came off and I sat blank faced waiting for something. Dilation, a baby, more meds, time. I don't know, I remember being so defeated. The IV had taken two tries, the overnight meds hadn't worked, the labor was progressing so slowly, the epidural also took two attempts and took over 10 minutes to complete. We started the pitocin over, I was worried about my epideral wearing off and now my baby was becoming distressed. Maybe I made a bad decision. Maybe I should have just waited for things to happen naturally, like I intended in the first place. Was I being selfish being induced? Is this what I get for being selfish and wanting to end my discomfort?

I remember sometime after that trying a position again that I had tried earlier where you put a giant stupid peanut shaped pillow between your legs and lay there. Guess what, it's called 'the peanut'. I lay there feeling like an idiot with a giant peanut between my legs and my vag out and it's creeping up on 9 oclock. We were talking about how we may not have a baby tonight, which would be fine and all but man, what a major disappointment. And we were also bringing up the idea of when to discuss a C-Section.

"Hey, the plus side, if you get a C-Section do you want to ask them to just get your tubes tied?"

....I get the logic, yes, but in the moment NO. This is NOT how this is going.

At some point while I was laying there with that giant peanut and giving them my pain scores, I noted that thought I could feel my contractions again, they weren't too painful but there was quite a bit of pain on the right side of my pelvis. Time went by and it got intense. I complained about it two more times and one nurse told me she would check where I was at. I was dilated to a 7 the hour before.

When they checked my dilation, she happily and quickly informed me that it was time to push. 

OH. OH. THAT'S WHAT THAT PAIN WAS? OH. OH MY. OK YES LET'S DO THIS. The pain was baby making his way out with his head cocked to the side, poor sweet guy. It's not dangerous, but it's painful.

 I began to shake, my teeth chattering uncontrollably and tears came running down the sides of my face. Palmer was emphatically telling me it was go time, how exciting! I continued to inform him I had no idea what was happening to me, I'm not cold, I'm not sad, I'm excited...I'm completely and totally overwhelmed.

We both frantically realized we had people to contact...really fast. The nurses were calling Dr. Mercado. We need to contact our sweet friend Leah, who we asked to take birth pictures for us, and tell her things happened super fast and she needed to get there ASAP. We also needed to text an update to the grandparents who had been waiting hours upon hours for a baby.

Something that made this birth extra special was that we planned, with our doctor's blessing obviously, to have Palmer deliver baby when he was born. So I remember this while Palmer was sending texts and I exclaim, "Palmer! You need to suit up! You need scrubs!" A nurse then scurried off to get some while the rest of the room was buzzing with people and excitement and preparation.

I remember the moment Dr Mercado came in and she was scrubbed up and ready to go. I was so worried she wouldn't be able to be there because of the timing of baby's arrival.

So seeing her stride into the room was almost maybe a teeny bit like what it may be like when the Rapture happens and Jesus strolls in. 

Less than 10 minutes later, our friend Leah who was taking pictures for us flew into the room as well. Again, I felt what I may feel in the Rapture. Total rejoicing - and relief - that she made it.

I don't remember much else except pushing for a while, longer than I expected but it wasn't too bad. My husband and the nurses were very encouraging. I remember looking up and seeing Leah snapping pictures and hoping I didn't look like the trainwreck I felt like but following it up with an internal pep talk that THAT'S WHAT THIS IS ABOUT. Just be real, damnit, and be in the moment! It's all beautiful and our sweet friend is possibly being traumatized by the sight of my vag to capture it. So suck it up.

Put on the duck lips, Amanda! Look your best! Why didn't I bring my selfie stick?!

This is a beautiful moment when baby was crowning and almost here. Palmer is intently and delicately waiting to hold him.

But let's also pause a moment to look at my giant, inflated foot. I was pumped with an enormous amount of fluid over the course of 14 hours and my feet tell all. 

And I'm so glad that my concern over my appearance was a fleeting thought because it really was wonderful. It was beautiful.
I can close my eyes and remember seeing my husband making eye contact with me and encouraging me. I remember the light behind his eyes, it was magical. I remember taking short breaks between pushes to chat and laugh and listen to the words of reassurance around me. I remember how weak and tired and pained I was but my God, the amazing ability of the human body to rally and work together.

To birth a human. To instinctively know what to do. It's incredible.

All of the sudden the pressure was gone and Palmer was cradling this GIANT BABY. This plump little giant 9lb newborn. And I lost my mind. 

This picture. This is it.

I don't remember anything else except holding him and crying and being so happy it was all over but also knowing 100% I would repeat every moment of that day to get this moment again. 

That's just pure love in those eyes.

The best birthday present ever.

Calling my mom. She could hear baby fussing on the phone. There is just nothing like a newborn baby's cry and knowing it's yours.

Wendy's has never, ever tasted so good.

I have to thank our friend Leah Evans for taking these pictures for us. She's incredibly talented and I was so grateful that she would capture this beautiful day for us. Thank you!!
http://www.leahevansphoto.com/