Weddings, Babies, and Obesity.

A lot has been happening lately!  Usually when I don't blog, it's because life is redundant and I feel like I have nothing to talk about--that's not been the case lately!!

Event #1: Jessica got married!  Talk about crazy!  I was responsible for her hair and makeup, as well as decorating the reception venue, so when I was back in Iowa last week, there was quite a bit to accomplish.  The ceremony was beautiful and the bride, GORGEOUS!!!!!!

And we had a surprise the morning of her wedding, which brings me to...

Event #2: WE'RE PREGNANT!!!! :) :)  I've started experiencing "wonderful" symptoms, such as bloating, cramps, nausea, obscene gassiness, and difficulty breathing out of my nose without sounding like I'm an obese person that just walked up a flight of stairs.

Event #3: Courtney got married!  This one was a short notice and quick planning, but everything turned out beautifully and her and Tim are now in their little apartment, getting ready for Baby #2--WHICH IS A GIRL!!!!!!!

Event #4: I got a promotion!!  I'm now a beauty stylist, which means that I'm kind of the concierge of cosmetics.  My job is to find you the best products based on your personal style, skin needs, and budget.  It's awesome!

Oh... and Emily changed my hair color and cut.  I'm "growing it out" for Isaac....

Surprises in May

The original purpose of this blog was to stay connected to friends and family back in Iowa when Isaac and I moved to Michigan for his medical schooling.  When I got diagnosed with cancer a few weeks after moving, it took on a new purpose--being open with people about our struggles while navigating through them.

This year, we celebrated our anniversary on May 8th.  It was awesome.  I had to close at Nordstrom and Isaac worked in the morning, so we didn't get to do anything the day of.  However, the morning after, I had my routine PET/CT scan and then was off for the day.

Since we were no longer preventing pregnancy, the hospital had to do a blood test for pregnancy before I could get my scan.  Had I realized how long they had to wait for the labs to get back, I might have stopped by the morning before so I didn't have to sit around for an hour, but lesson learned.  While I was waiting to get injected with the radioactive glucose, the tech and I were chatting about life.  When you get tests like this done regularly, you start to get to know the people at the hospital pretty well.  This guy was new to me--I'd only had him once before--so we were talking about family and how long he'd been working as a tech.

At some point in the conversation, he started talking about the statistics of how many people have actually been pregnant when they come in for their PET/CT scan.

Zero.

In his 12+ years of working as a radiology tech, he said he'd never had a result come back positive.  That's not exactly comforting.  I wasn't exactly sure what it meant, but it indicated to me there's a pretty strong correlation between people who get PET/CTs and not being pregnant.  Maybe it's because a majority of the people he sees are older, maybe it's because there's an unknown side effect of getting them regularly, or who knows what.... but I was kind of bummed when he told me that.

When the lab finally called, he went into the other room to hear the results and I was straining my ears to see if there was any surprise in his voice that might indicate I was pregnant.  Nope.  None at all.  By the time he hung up the phone I was settled in and ready to get injected, even though I was bummed.  He came back in the room and surprise, surprise: "Well ma'am, you're not going to be able to get your scan done today because we don't want to bake the baby!"

I'm sure I had a really big smile on my face but the only thing that absorbed at that point was that I wasn't going to be able to get my PET/CT.  Still, I walked out of the hospital grinning like a goon.  And I still smile now remembering the feeling.  I started to process it on the way home and screamed and cried a couple of times in the car on my way home.  Isaac was supposed to be at the hospital that morning, so when I pulled into our apartment complex and saw his car there, I was even more excited that I'd be able to tell him right away.

Now, my husband is a man of one face.  His expression rarely changes, regardless of the circumstance. I have no idea how that works, because everything I feel shows on my face.  I decided I'd try and play the "one-face" game when I told him to see if I could get a reaction out of him.  The conversation went something like this-

Isaac: "How did your scan go?"

Me: "I don't know."

Isaac: "Well, how do you think it went?" (You normally have to wait a few days to get results)

Me: "I don't know.  I didn't have one."

Isaac: "Why?"

Me: "We're pregnant."

Isaac: "What?"

AND HIS FACIAL EXPRESSION NEVER CHANGED!!!!!!  I tried, ladies and gentlemen.  I tried.  At first he thought I was joking, because I was doing a good job at hiding my own excitement.  Once he finally understood that I wasn't pranking him, he did crack a smile and laugh a bit.

Over the last couple of weeks, we've started doing things that I'm sure other parents-to-be do: talking about the baby, discussing names, figuring out insurance, finances, etc...  We've gotten a little attached to it and were envisioning a future with a child.

I say "were" because this morning I miscarried.

This week has been crazy, stress-wise.  My closest friend in Michigan, Pearl, has packed up and is moving to Texas today.  The cosmetic line that I manage started a gift with purchase on Wednesday (which I worked a 12-hour shift for).  And today we started a department-wide event that will run through today and tomorrow and will draw in hundreds of women and lots of chaos.

When I arrived at work this morning, I started to bleed a little bit.  I only noticed because I'm out of my "good" undergarments and I felt like I was getting an underwear line that was showing.  I went to adjust it, and while using the facilities, saw blood.  Bright red blood.  Pregnant women shouldn't bleed.

I called my husband because he always knows what to do, and after giving me an over-the-phone exam, he came and picked me up.  Off to the ER we went.  During our 3-hour stay there, I bled and bled and bled.  Chunks of blood.  I was given a foley catheter (a pinch uncomfortable getting it in, by the way) and they took me to ultrasound to take images of my uterus and ovaries.  After that, a few blood labs, and a pelvic exam, the doctor told Isaac and I that my pregnancy hormone had dropped significantly, indicating I was most likely no longer carrying.

So we were pregnant.

And now we're not.

I'm exhausted.  There's the unwritten rule that you don't share that you're pregnant until you're past the 12-week mark.  I was too excited, so I told quite a few people... probably half of the ladies I work with, some friends, and my three closest girlfriends.  After we left the hospital I sent out a mass text letting everyone know.

The rest of today has been filled with talking to my husband and my mom, naps, cramps, and getting lots of hugs and kisses from my husband.  He even took a nap with me, even though he wasn't tired--which is a HUGE thing.  I've gotten a ton of supportive texts and a couple of extremely sweet voicemails.

Thank you, to those of you who have given me encouragement.  It's still painful, but less.

We're going to keep "not preventing," but we'll see what happens.  The silver lining is that we know we CAN get pregnant.  Now to see if they'll ever stick...

Oh Lawdy!

Whoooeeeeyyyy!!!!

It's been a while since I've had cramps at all, let alone cramps intense enough to wake me from a dead sleep.  But that's where I found myself at 4-something this morning.

The bummer about getting cramps in your sleep is that you're not quite conscious enough to realize why you keep waking up.  So the first four times that I woke up, rolled over, groaned, held my lower abdomen, and made my "that really hurts" face... well, they were relatively useless.  Thankfully the fifth time I started to realize what in the world was going on, and by the sixth, I decided to get out of bed to address it.

If snorting ibuprofen helped alleviate my pain quicker, I might have considered it this morning.

To my knowledge it doesn't, though, so I ingested them the ol' fashioned way.  Four of 'em down the hatch with a couple of long swigs of water.  Followed by a minute or two rummaging around in the bathroom closet trying to find the heating pad.

Boys probably don't understand this very well, but when you're rolling around on the floor, clutching your midsection because of you cramps, hugs don't make you feel better.  Kisses aren't very useful either.  As a matter of fact, almost any type of physical contact (and maybe this is just me) causes me to grit my teeth, clench my fists, and have a quick mental dialogue with myself about how hitting things doesn't actually make pain disappear.

The only consolation I seek in my moment of darkness is that of a drug that will eventually (hopefully 30 minutes or less) knock the pain out, and a heating pad.

And of course--a seat near an electrical outlet.

Dear Uterus

It's been going pretty good!

We went to see the doc on Wednesday and unfortunately, it sounds like six months is the least amount of time I'll have to be in treatment.  That was a bit disappointing.  I was really really hoping to hear that four would be enough.  Come September, we'll repeat my succession of tests to determine how much longer I'll have to endure for sure.  It sounds like it will realistically be anywhere from six to eight months.  Barf.

Isaac and I were talking yesterday and I mentioned that this whole thing is a lot more involved than I thought it was going to be.  In my mind I'd made the process something like: "Four months of chemo was enough.  The lymphoma is gone.  Congrats!  We'll see ya later!"

I guess that's not how it works.

I had to quit taking my birth control for the duration of the process too.  It's been quite a change, letting my body adjust back to what it naturally wants to do for my period.

I'd started taking it pretty young... probably fourteen (correct me if I'm wrong, Mom) because I get such infernally bad cramps.  Over the past nine years, I'd kind of forgotten what it was like to wake up in the middle of the night wishing I was dead because my abdomen was chewing on itself with razor sharp teeth.  I got a lovely reminder today.

Dear, Uterus.

Thank you.  Because of you, I was awakened this morning after only five hours of sleep.  Because of you, I've already downed four ibuprofen and have a heating pad set on blast trying to boil you away.  I'm sure you think it's funny.  Well, just you wait.  When I get older and you've already done the ONLY positive thing you can do (hopefully), I'm having you removed just because I can, you Judas piece of flesh.  Take that.

Sincerely, Ashley

I don't even feel bad about saying that.

Another undesired side effect: my skin breaks out SUPER easily.  I have to treat it like a spoiled Manhatten brat just to get it to behave.  We're talking washing twice a day at specific times, a topical cream, two types of moisturizers, pumice peels, clay masks, extractions, and hydrating gels.  Ridiculous.

Thankfully I learned these things in cosmetology school.

Mornings like today, I have to remind myself to chill.  These disruptions in the pattern of my life will only register as a little bump in the road when the whole story is told.  Nothing lasts forever.

At least, not here.

On a very random ending note: Happy Birthday to my little buddy Caleb Badger!!! You're one!!  :)  I know it's really not until Wednesday, but I'll be drugged and it's pretty likely I'll forget to say anything then.

Haha!  I found this other uterus picture later.  Keep those ovaries away from your children, ladies!!