The Scariest Day of My Life: My Birth Story

The morning I went into labor was my 32 week mark.  I had been in the hospital for just over 2 weeks due to leaking amniotic fluid and low fluid levels, so we were prepared that our son would arrive early.  The ideal situation was to get to 34 weeks, but at 32 many developmental milestones have been reached.  The morning started pretty routine for my hospital stay.  Around 1:30 in the afternoon I started getting what felt like bladder spasms (I had been dealing with this during most of my pregnancy, and years before, so I was very familiar with it).  It was a light constant cramping right over my bladder.  I asked for my medication for it.  Usually it only took 5-10 minutes to take effect, but it didn’t seem to be working.  The nurse told me to lie on my side and relax, and if it wasn’t gone in an hour to let her know.  At that time they gave me another dose of my meds, which still didn’t help.  At that point they attached the fetal monitors to see if there was any activity.  I was apparently having mild, fairly contractions, but I wasn’t feeling them (this was pretty routine, as it had happened off and on during my hospital stay).  I remained on my side and drank a lot of fluids, and was told to use the restroom regularly.  The cramping never went away, but never really got worse either.

My last ultrasound, the day before I went into labor

Tim arrived a couple hours later.  Around 7:30 I went to the restroom yet again.  I was told each time if there was any blood to let them know.  Ok, no problem.  Except for this time….there was a LOT of blood.  My heart dropped.  This was it…this was the game changer.  Labor and Delivery was notified, and we prepped to move from my temporary home away from home.  By the time they arrived to move me I was definitely feeling the contractions!  But, they were manageable.  Just as I had imagined the full blown contractions would be.  We were in good spirits, and I was even joking with the nurses that were transporting me.  Once I arrived to my L&D room I was hooked up to all the monitors, given the dreaded IV again, etc.  The doctor on call came to check on me.  This time they checked my cervix…they had not touched me prior to this as to not contribute to any germs/infection that could get into my already leaking uterus.  I wasn’t very dilated, about 1 ½ cm.  So it might be a while.  The contractions gradually began to increase, more…and more…and more.  Finally they began to become unbearable, and fast.  Although my contractions were showing as a moderate level, my pain on a scale of 1 to 10 was about a 12.  They asked if I wanted to go ahead and get an epidural.  Yes, please!  They called the anesthesiologist, and as we waited I could barely breathe through my contractions.  Just breathe, the nurse kept telling me.  I can’t!  I wanted to yell.  How can anyone breathe or stay calm through this??  Why is the pain so bad if my contractions were still fairly mild??  Just before the anesthesiologist arrived, the doctor checked to see if I was dilated any further.  I didn’t notice at the time since I couldn’t even see straight at this point, but later Tim told me that the doctor and nurse exchanged a look.   

“You are still only dilated about 2 cm, so we’re going to have to do a C-section”.  

“Ok”, I said.  

I didn’t care at that point, as long as my pain went away.  Just then the anesthesiologist arrived.  “Go ahead and just meet us in the OR” the nurse said.  “Oh God, no”, I said under my breath.  I just wanted the God awful pain to go away.  “How long is it going to take?” I asked.  “About 30 minutes” the nurse said.  “Oh my God” I said, knowing there was no way I could endure the pain that much longer.  I knew it wasn’t the nurses’ fault, so I wasn’t going to take it out on them.  And, I knew that I had to stay calm and focused if I was going to get through this.  Although at that point I didn’t think I could!  I couldn’t see or think about anything else but the pain.  I knew Tim was there by my side, and I can imagine now how stressed and worried he must have been.

Something changed in my status, because it was much less than 30 minutes before they took me to the OR.  By this point my pain was constant, about a 6 between contractions and a 12+ during them, which were happening every minute (which felt like every 5 seconds).  They told Tim where to go to change into OR gear, and told them they would come and get him as soon as I was prepped. The nurse then began explaining how it was going to be very loud and chaotic in the OR and it could be very overwhelming.  I wanted to tell her that I worked in trauma and OR situations for a living so I could totally handle that part, but I was concentrating on not dying from the pain.  And I wasn’t too far off with that thought…

I could barely move onto the operating table and had to have several people help me.  “PLEASE MAKE THE PAIN END. PLEASE MAKE THE PAIN END” I kept thinking.  They had me sit up so they could give me the epidural.  I kept thinking there was no way they would be able to get the needle in me, as the pain was so unbearable I couldn’t relax at all let alone hold still.  As I sat up and put my legs over the side of the table there was a nurse right in front of me helping me up.  “Just lean over my shoulder” she said.  As I did she held on to me and hugged me.  I have never hugged someone back so tight.  I wanted to cry.  I wanted to kiss her.  In that moment she was my only security, my only comfort.  I wanted to hug her forever.  Although it was almost impossible to concentrate on anything else but the pain I tried to listen to what was going on around me.  Working in an OR many times I knew what sounds, what words to listen for, but it was so difficult to do.  As they were almost done with my epidural I heard the nurse say “Heartrate at 58”.  Shit, I thought.  My baby was starting becoming critical.  As soon as they were done they all but threw me down onto the table. 

“Ok, we’re going to have to go ahead and get your baby out right now” my doctor said. 
“Ok” was all I could make myself say back.
“Are you getting numb yet?”
“Just my foot, dammit”
Why is it not working faster?  I don’t need my damn foot numb!!

Finally the pain started to go away.  I had never felt such relief in my life.  The second it took effect I could feel pressure and see my abdomen moving.  They weren’t wasting any time.  There was a male voice that was letting me know what was going on.  He told me they were about to pull him out.  His head was out. 

“He’s here!  Time of birth 1:24 AM.”

Then I heard a tiny but strong baby cry.  “He can breathe, his lungs are ok” I thought.  Then I started to cry.    It was over. I was so relieved.

And I was all alone…

There was no one to comfort me.   I have never felt so alone in my life.  No one to tell me he was going to be ok.  To tell me I was going to be ok.  Because at that point it wasn’t certain that I would be.  When they cut me open they realized what had been going on.  My placenta was tearing.  With each contraction it was ripping from my body.  My uterus was filling with blood. This is the most common cause of death during labor.

I heard Tim enter the room.  I was thankful he was there to watch over Noah while they cleaned him up and made sure he was ok.  It wasn’t until months later that he was able to tell me what he had to witness when he walked in to that OR.  As he walked in the door, straight in front of him he saw several people crowded around me frantically working on me, each one covered in blood.  The floor around them was covered in blood.  He had the thought that I was not going to make it.  But he had to focus on Noah. 

It was at that time that I began going in and out of consciousness.  The reality of what was happening to me started to take over my body.  It was 20 or 30 minutes maybe before they were able to bring Noah to me quickly before they took him to the NICU.  They touched our cheeks together and took a few pictures.  He was asleep and all bundled up, and I could barely even see what he looked like.  

Tim left with Noah as they finished up with me.  I was in the operating room for close to 3 hours according to my calculations.  Towards the end I heard my doctor on the phone with a Urologist.  I was able stay conscious and listen to what was happening.  In all the chaos (and bleeding) my bladder was nicked by the scalpel.  They had to repair it on top of everything else.  She got the ok and I was finally almost done.

I arrived back to my Labor and Delivery room and I was alone with the nurse for a few minutes.  They explained to me everything that had happened.  I got to see my placenta in a jar on the table across the room, and the nurse took it out for me to see (a healthcare worker curiosity, which I understand most people would be creeped out by!).  Tim arrived shortly after, then my parents.  I had a sense of relief that it was all over…or so I thought.  When the doctor arrived she had to check my uterus to make sure it was shrinking back to normal.  As she pushed on my abdomen the excruciating pain that had occurred during labor came back.  That was when the weight of everything that had happened over the last several hours fully hit me.  I started crying uncontrollably.  The emotions hit Tim and my parents as well.  These uterus checks, and unbearable pain, would happen regularly for the next few hours.  No pain medication would make it go away while they were pushing on me. 

It would be about 10 hours after Noah was born before I was stable enough to see him.  He was sound asleep.  I was allowed to put my hand into the incubator with him.  He was on his stomach so I still couldn’t fully see what he looked like.  It would be several hours after that before I got to see him awake.  I was unable to visit him again that night, so it was via video that Tim took that evening.  I bawled my eyes out.  He was my baby and I was missing all of these moments.  It would be about 32 hours after he was born before I was finally able to hold him for the first time.  At 4lbs 10oz he was like a feather.  Most women talk about that instant connection they get when their baby is born.  It hits them when they first hear their baby cry, or when their baby is placed on their chest right after birth for that skin to skin connection.  I didn’t get that experience.  Maybe it was all the trauma and pain I went through and because I was so weak.  Maybe it was because I didn’t get to instantly hold him, or breastfeed him, or even see him.  Maybe it was because I wasn’t able to choose when and how he was changed and diapered and held for weeks.  But when I saw him that strong bond wasn’t there yet.  Yes, I loved him and felt that I needed to protect him.  I worried about him when I wasn’t with him in the NICU and wanted details of everything they were doing for him.  He definitely felt a bond with me.  People noticed that when I would speak around him in the NICU he would turn his head towards me.  But it would be well after he arrived home before I would feel that bond.

After 4 days it was time for me to go home.  It took me several hours from the time I was discharged before I was physically able to go home.  I was crying uncontrollably.  The weight of everything we had gone through the past 3 weeks was hitting my postpartum hormonal mind.  I was finally free from the hospital after almost a month, but I was going home without my baby.  I could no longer go down the hall and check on him any time I wanted.  I was unable to stay the night in the NICU because I had to be taken care of as well.  I wasn’t strong enough.  I also had to go home with a catheter for several days, which upset me greatly.  Most importantly, I had missed out on that bonding time of having him in the same hospital room with me, to be able to dote over him like everyone you see sharing this wonderful experience online and when they talk about those first hospital days.  I would cry for the next 24 hours straight, and cry myself to sleep every night for the next week.  Every night in the shower for a couple of weeks I would stand there and bawl my eyes out, having flashes of the trauma that occurred. 

The day we left the hospital.  I felt like I was dying inside.

Now, a year later, everyone is well.  Noah is happy and healthy, and has had no developmental issues from being born so early.  I have had a few minor complications from the C-section, and I’m still building my immune system back up from the trauma my body went through, but otherwise doing well.  This experience has changed us in ways that would be impossible to explain.  We take it day by day, but the memory of what we went through still creeps in from time to time.  It no longer is consuming, and it gets easier every day.  I wouldn’t have been able to get through this without the support of Tim.  He has held me while I cried harder than I have ever cried in my life.  He has supported me through the times when I was unable to even get off the couch in those early days.  He gave me the space to process everything and let me heal in my own time.  He went through his own demons during all this, but made sure I was ok before he brought that burden on me.  For that I am forever grateful. 

I was later diagnosed with PTSD and postpartum depression.  I had to have Tim call my employer and tell them what had happened, as well as tell our friends and family, as I couldn’t even think about it without panicking.  It would be months before I could talk about it, and then it was just the straight medical facts.  It took several therapy sessions before I was ready to talk about it, and even then it was broken up over a few sessions.  I have never told the full story of what happened to me to anyone else, until now.  Why did I finally decide to tell this story?  As Noah’s first birthday comes closer some of the feelings, anxiety, and memories are starting to creep back.  I am telling my story first and foremost as a therapeutic tool for myself.  I also want to share my story so that others know that not everyone gets that fuzzy fairytale story of their baby’s arrival, so they can be understanding and compassionate towards those who didn’t get that story.  I want others who have had to endure a similar situation that they are not alone, and it’s ok to talk about it. 

My MRSA infection

I'm posting this here, so that people can choose whether or not they see pics of my actual skin infection, which is quite nasty to look at!  Being in healthcare I've seen a lot of icky things, yet I still cringe every time I see it.  Probably because of how much extreme pain it is causing.  Even posing for this picture was quite painful.  Lifting my arm above my shoulder can be excruciating, and I was pretty sore for several minutes afterwards.  I had just taken a shower though, and cleansing the area, the warm water, and moisturizing it eases the pain somewhat.

The large, deep bumps you see go all the way to the muscle, which is part of the reason why it is so painful. That is what makes the pain constant and chronic.  Actually, a few times at the beginning of an outbreak I thought I had just pulled a muscle, since the bumps hadn't surfaced yet.  The swelling, redness, and pus in the boils (I know, ew!) makes the area tender, which is what makes it painful to the touch and sensitive to anything I put on it to treat it.  Even aloe vera stings!  This is my worst side/arm.  The other arm only has a few bumps.  That side has newer outbreaks though, so it is more sensitive at times.

So there you have it, my MRSA cooties for all to see!  I also apologize for the lack of shaving, as i'm sure you can understand the obvious reasons why I have taken care of that with all this going on there!  This is also the only picture you will most likely ever see of me without a shirt.  So that makes it kind of sexy, right??  LOL

Since I was sent home early from work with bronchitis I decided to finally get around to writing my next entry, since I'm stuck on the couch unable to do anything without feeling like passing out and all...

Most people know that I've had a bit of a year from hell.  I have been drained emotionally, as well as my bank account being drained as well living paycheck to paycheck!  But I've always been someone who tries to make the best out of even the worst situations.  Sure, the one person I thought that would never cheat or take advantage of me and thought we would always remain friends no matter what turned out to be the exact opposite.  Sure that person didn't have the guts or decency to feel or show any remorse.  But at least I learned something from the experience.  At least I had a great relationship with 2 of the best dogs who taught me more about my inner strength and persistence than any person ever could, not to mention the unconditional love that they gave me.  At least I now have one of the most awesome cats ever who thinks that his mission is to guard and protect me (yes I believe he is part dog), and who is a constant source of entertainment and joy. And this long, drawn out experience put my life in the right place at the right time to be with the most loving and generous man I've ever dated.  And not to mention brought me the chance to own my kick ass looking car!

Even though I was so grateful for all of these things and more, something way back inside me felt drained.  I wasn't really conscious of it, but it was looming over me all this time.  Over the summer I stopped eating meat and dairy and adopted a plant based lifestyle, and I suddenly had more energy than I've ever had.  I had all this energy, but motivation was nowhere to be found.  It made no sense to me at all.  Then about a month ago it was like a dark Eeyore-like cloud suddenly disappeared from my life.  I woke up and suddenly had the urge to walk to work that day.  Then a few days later I had the desire to workout again on one of my work breaks.  Then I wanted to have friends over to watch the big game.  Now I can't wait to plan my next workout, and get my buff abs back before my trip to the beach this year. There was no signifying event that caused this dark cloud to finally lift.  It just suddenly left as quick and stealthy as it began. I have been reading Jenny Lawson's blog (aka The Bloggess), and she describes this perfectly:  Depression lies and is an asshole! Those words made me laugh because it's so true, even though at the time it is happening to you it is nothing that makes you feel like laughing!

I'm not mad that I had to go through the dark Eeyore cloud, because then I couldn't appreciate how great it feels when it finally goes away.  And if I didn't have the ability to know that everything happens for a reason, and that I will be a better and stronger person when the difficult times are over, then who knows how long it would have taken me to snap out of it.  Maybe I never would have, like many unfortunate people.  But if I had just one piece of advice to give to anyone it would be to work as hard as you can to adopt this ability.  I'm not saying it is easy to do this, and it's taken me decades of crap to figure it out, but it's the best thing that you can do for yourself!  I know that there will be more Eeyore clouds in my life, some will be tiny and others will be gigantic.  But I know that each time it happens that there will be light at the end of the tunnel.  As long as I remember that there are life lessons to be learned in order to appreciate what you have I know that I will be happy and ok on the other side.  :-)

I'm a Believer: The impact of Davy Jones, and the Monkees, on my life.

A lot of people online (mainly Facebook) may have been completely baffled by how emotional I was with the passing of Davy Jones.  Those close to me understand why however.  So, I thought I would share my story, both to explain to those who don't understand as well as a sort of closure for me.  And, it's a way to honor Davy and all that he (and the Monkees) brought to my life.

Myself and Davy Jones, around 2008

I was about 12 when the Monkees were first introduced to me.  It was a Saturday morning.  I woke up and headed to the living room, where my dad and older sister were watching TV.  MTV was having a marathon of Monkees episodes.  My sister said she used to watch them every Saturday morning when she was a kid, and that I should watch them because they were really funny.  About 2 episodes in I asked my dad for a VHS tape so that I could tape the marathon.  That was the start of something that would snowball and change my life forever.  Some time passed, and I made a new friend from my band class, Becky.  She was a huge Monkees fanatic, and shared with me many of the Monkees episodes she had taped, as well as their albums that had been re released on cassette (yep, this was just as CDs were just coming out, so cassette tapes were the media of choice).  I was hooked!  We spent that summer hanging out at the pool at my mom's apartment complex during the day, and listening to our Monkees cassettes and watching episodes until late at night.  Nick at Nite had started showing episodes twice a day, so I spent many hours starting play when a new one came on, seeing if it was a new one (if not I would stop and rewind the tape to begin the next new episode), and cutting out the commercials.  I fell in love with Davy (as most girls did that loved the Monkees).  Even though he was older than my dad, I was convinced that we would get married and live happily ever after some day.  I hadn't even had a real boyfriend at that point, so what did I know... ;-)

Then, the best thing that could ever happen to me happened....the Monkees were coming to Louisville in concert!  My first concert ever.  It was amazing.  There they were, live right in front of me!  Later that summer Becky and I would get to see them again in Indianapolis.  Here we got to sit in the front row for the last few minutes of the concert with friends of her dad (in their laps actually).  They reached down and shook hands with people in the front row as they left the stage.  I got to touch them!  It was like a dream.  There was screaming and crying involved from what I remember.  The best thing that had happened to me ever!

My friend Becky would move away to live with her dad that summer, but I had befriended her cousin Karla who was also in band.  Thank goodness, I had someone else to share my love of the Monkees with!  Although I was in my last year of middle school, I got to march with the high school marching band that year.  We spent many band trips sharing headphones and listening to our Monkees albums on the band bus.  Other kids in my school had fallen in love with the Monkees as well, so we had special days where we would all wear our concert T-shirts.  The Monkees had a rebirth in the 80s, a new generation of fans.  This is unheard of, as far as I know, with any other musical group.  Sure, people love the Beatles music, but they didn't have a TV show and band come back like the Monkees did.

At this point you're probably saying "Ok, so you had a teenage crush on a band.  Big deal, what girl didn't at that age??".  And at this point I would agree with you....except this is just the very beginning of my story.  My love of the Monkees' music started my love of the Beatles, my all time favorite musically talented group to this day.  My friend Karla was in love with the Doors, so I was introduced to them as well.  Then came Herman's Hermits, the Who, the list goes on.  I adore music from the 60s and 70s to this day.  Being at the beginning of my experience as a musician at that time this shaped the rest of my life.  To this day I can still hear certain songs that bring such strong emotion, which all started with the Monkees.

My high school years passed and I began my college days.  I, of course, shared my love of the Monkees music to my music school friends (because that was our life after all at that time).  A few years into college I found out that Davy was going to be in the Broadway production of Grease in our city.  I convinced my best friend Ginger (also a musical lover) to go with me.  When we walked into the concert hall there was Davy on stage, 5 or so rows in front of us, playing oldies music and dancing around on stage before the show.  I was a giddy teenager again!  He was still just as good looking as he was during the 60s, and even better looking than the 80s (mullets were a dark time of that decade, lol).  We watched the first half of the play, then stepped out for intermission.  We were standing outside the doorway of the auditorium talking before we went back to our seats.  All of a sudden, without any warning, the side stage door busted open right beside us and out came Davy.  There we were, just the 2 of us and Davy!  As he walked by he said cheerfully "Hello ladies!"  Ginger smiled and said "Hello!" right back to him.  As I tried to ignore the shock I was in and say something similar, hopefully more clever and witty, all I could muster up was "aahh...".  Way to go, I just blew the moment of a lifetime!  Ginger couldn't help but giggle at me.  And looking back, it makes me giggle too.

Several years later I found out that the Monkees were back together yet again and touring over the summer.  Well of course I HAD to see them!  Ginger agreed to go with me to see them perform at the Cincinnati Zoo.  We got there that morning because it was general admission.  We had to get great seats!  There were several other Monkees fanatics waiting with us, playing their music, wearing their T-shirts, etc.  Both of us were new to all of this, Ginger especially since she just came along for the ride pretty much.  We file in to our seats and watched the show.  It was  AMAZING.  Of course I loved their music already, but all 3 of them, Micky, Peter, and Davy, knew exactly how to entertain the crowd!  I wasn't the only one that thought this...Ginger had instantly become a huge fan after that concert as well.  A couple weeks later they were performing at the Columbus Zoo.  So we wrangled up tickets (again general admission, yay!), called in sick to work (cough, cough!) and away we went!  This time Peter came back to the crowd during the sound check and signed autographs.  So exciting!  Then during the concert Davy came down and sang to the front row of the crowd.  Yay, I got to shake his hand again!  It was such a rush!  Later that summer my college sweetheart and I broke up.  I was heartbroken.  Ginger came to the rescue.  What would make me feel better?  A Monkees concert of course!  We headed to NC this time.  There we got to go to a CD/Book signing and saw Micky in a hotel bar we stopped at.  It was just getting better!  Later we went to another concert where the guard to the backstage befriended us, and eventually let us in to the green room after the concert.  We got our pictures made with all 3 and got their autographs.  Peter was the most personable that night.  He looked through the picture book I had just purchased (he had never seen it before) and talked about the different people he was with in the photographs.  So cool!

 The next summer they toured as well.  We had a 3 day weekend where we went to concerts in 3 different cities, making a loop back home.  The first concert was in Merrillville, IN. There we hung out with them in the hotel bar and got to see them up close and personal.  The next night was Rosemont, IL.  We found the hotel they were staying at again and hung out there (we were good at it by this time!).  After a few drinks and an hour or so of being in the same place as the band I decided to pluck up the courage and go introduce myself to Davy.  I walked up to him at the bar, introduced myself as a huge fan since I was a teenager, and it was an honor to meet him.  He smiled and took my hand, and said it was very nice to meet me.  He then told me a joke about a hippo and another animal, and I think there was alcohol involved in the joke.  I was so starstruck I don't remember the joke!  I thanked him, then he touched my cheek and smiled.  I was giddy!  He had paid attention to just me!  They would tour again the following spring, after I had graduated from college and was working in the "real world".  They were playing in Merrillville again, which was just a couple hours away and where they stayed in the same hotel, so of course we had to go to that one!  This time they had an opening band.  It was a boy band that also actually played their own instruments (imagine that!).  We joked about which one we thought was the cutest, etc., but we were there for the opening act.  After the concert we headed to the hotel bar as usual, and as usual the entire band was there.  Including the opening band.  We befriended 2 girls that knew some of the band members, and the next thing I know we are hanging out with the band, and the lead singer of the opening band was flirting and passing out shots to everyone.  We were then invited back to one of their rooms to play cards and have a few drinks.  On the way we passed Davy, and I was personally introduced to him, as "Stephanie the X-ray tech".  "Well hello, Stephanie the X-ray tech!" Davy said, lol.  We then hung out all night and played cards and joked around.  It was a great time!  I would then see them a few more times in concert that summer, and hung out with the opening band's lead singer a few times.  Yep, a real life groupie.  We got so used to being around the Monkees in the real world that it was almost second nature.  Saying hello to their back up band because we recognized each other was just another concert day.

That was over 10 years ago, and those great memories never left me.  I always went on about how great the Monkees were, how I was in love with Davy, how I now had a huge crush on Peter because he was so personable.  Then last year they got together for another concert tour.  The ticket prices were close to $100, and most of the dates were during the week.  With real life setting in since the last time they had toured 10 years ago, I just couldn't make it to any of the dates.  Maybe they will tour again next year, or the year after, and actually come to Louisville again, I thought.

Then 2 weeks ago I was coming back to work from my lunch break, just an average work day.  I decided to check out Facebook before I clocked back in, and there it was.  Less than 10 minutes before they had posted that Davy Jones had passed away.  I stared at my phone.  There is no way.  It's just a rumor, or a mistake.  He is the youngest.  So I checked another source, and there was the same info.  NO, it couldn't be.  Then my phone went crazy the next 30 minutes.  Karla, Ginger, my sister, everyone was texting me about the news they had just heard.  Ginger found out that it was a heart attack.  The rest of the day was a blur.  I was numb from the shock.  I talked to a few co workers that were from their original generation about it, and they were shocked as well (of course not as much as I was).  I came home and started cooking dinner, and the national news started lighting up with the news as well.  They had a tribute on one of the news shows for him.  At the end they showed the clip of him in The Brady Bunch episode where he was in the recording studio singing "Girl".  At that point I broke down.  The love of my teenage years, one of the members of my idol band, the band I had spent so many summers worshiping, was gone just like that.  Tim was unfortunate enough to walk in to my apartment at that very moment.  He instantly walked into the kitchen with me standing there bawling, tears streaming down my face.  "I'm ok" I muttered.  Having listened to my Monkees stories before he understood my sadness and just hugged me.  Oh the things our significant others put up with to be with us!

It's been a couple weeks now, and the shock still hasn't worn off.  Sure, it's not losing a parent or other close family member, but it's pretty damn close.  My entire life was shaped by my musical influences, which all started with my love for the Monkees.  That's where my love of all music started, that's what brought light to my confusing teenage days, my depression of break ups and having to be out in the real world.

So as my closing, I just want to say a big THANK YOU to Davy.  Thank you for everything you did, for being so friendly and personable and bringing joy to so many lives.  You will live in our hearts forever.  I will carry those great memories and experiences you helped bring to my life.  You will be greatly missed, but never forgotten.

Facing past demons...when you didn't know you had them.

Anyone who knows me well knows that i'm fascinated with human psychology and how the mind works.  I have been since college, and came very close to majoring in Psychology.  I mention that because that is the basis of why I decided to post this.  I debated whether I wanted to share something this candid for all to see, but decided that if I am to eventually help others (which is my goal in life) then I need to be as open and honest as I can be.  So here you go!

A few weeks ago an old friend had a big 50th birthday bash.  This was one of the instructors of Coyote's dance team that I was a part of in college.  I haven't seen most of the people associated with my dancing days in almost 10 years or more, so I was very excited about the invite and immediately said yes!  Not to mention that I knew there would be dancing involved, which I have greatly missed since my dance team days.  So I got out my best dancing shoes, gave Tim some background (since he didn't know me from this time in my life) and away we went.  It was a blast! It was just like a high school reunion.  I spent many hours/weekends with these people.  We were at Coyote's almost every Friday and Saturday night, often until 2am, and Sunday was practice.  Not to mention the appearances and competitions we went to.   I got to catch up with many people I hadn't seen in years, and proved to myself that I could still do both the line dancing and couples dances, at least without falling flat on my ass, LOL.  Unfortunately I was exhausted after just one dance, where back in the day I could do several in a row before I took a break.  I had truly missed dancing, and have been wanting to get back in to it for years.  Unfortunately with the disappearance of Coyote's downtown there's just no good place to do so any longer.  It was a fun night all around.

Me during my dance team days 

(second from the left if you couldn't figure it out. ;-)

We rolled back in to my apartment afterwards (it was just a few blocks from my place, which was handy), and I headed to the shower as usual after a late night.  I suddenly started feeling major anxiety and stress out of nowhere.  I couldn't figure why in the world this was happening after such a great night of old friends and dancing, one of my favorite things to do in the world.   I had faced many people and events from my past, some very unpleasant, and never had this kind of reaction.  I'm now a self assured and confident person and have worked hard to become this way.  After several minutes of analyzing, the reason instantly came to me...

I was on the dance team for almost 4 years, and continued dancing for a year or 2 after that.  My dancing past time tapered off gradually, and I was about 26 when I stopped completely.  When I first started on the dance team my young college life was great, or as good as any college student in their early 20s could be.  I had friends of all walks of life; from my music school days, from the dance team, and several others with no relation to either.  I had supportive parents.  I finally could see the light at the end of the college tunnel and was accepted into X-ray school.  But I was a very different person than I am now.  My interests were mostly the same, but I was quite shy and rarely spoke my mind or spoke up for myself (I know people who know me now but did not know me back then will find this hard to believe!).  I was also not a very confident person.  Although I was slender and looked young and decently attractive for my age (I had my youth and lack of money for junk food for that), worked out fairly regularly, had given up steaks years before, and drank lots of water I was still not exactly the picture of perfect health.

Then "life" started to happen.  My college boyfriend and I ended our up and down relationship.  At that time I put a lot more stock on being with someone than I do now.  It was part of "being happy".  Most of my friends were graduating from college, where I still had a couple years to go.  I got in X-ray school, which anyone who has been in a healthcare program knows how hectic and stressful that is!  Then most of my friends started getting married.  As many single (and some married) people know, you are more valued and your opinion matters more if you are married (or on your way to being so) and having babies.  If I was upset because I had to see my ex and his new fiance at an engagement party, for instance, them going on and on about how in love they were with each other even though they weren't together in college (and, incidentally, he was still with me), that didn't matter.  But if I told one story that was during the time he and I was together that was being rude in insensitive!  Of course it didn't help that I had decided to stay single and not date for the next several years after briefly dating a couple of complete idiots!  So I began growing apart from friends that didn't seem to have the same values as I did.  Then once out of X-ray school the real stress started.  First it was taking my boards.  Then it was trying to be completely confident in my first job in the "real world", even though I was so nervous on a daily basis that I didn't know what I was doing.  I was miserable in my job, and in turn started to slowly to gain weight.  The lack of my dancing, as well as being in my late 20s contributed to this i'm sure!  Then of course that was a snowball effect to losing my self confidence even more.

Eventually I started Massage Therapy school, switched X-ray jobs, and got back into shape.  I worked through all of my inner conflicts and became a more confident and outgoing person.  I was comfortable with who I was as well as with being on my own.  I knew that when I started dating again that it would just enhance my life, not define it.  At the same time I also became a more conscientious and caring person when it came to others.  I started to want to help others become healthy.  I started dating again and had a much healthier outlook on it, as well as standing up for myself when I felt I was being taken advantage of!

And that's the person I am today.  But during my dance team days I was not that person yet.  Although dancing brought me a lot of self confidence, and I absolutely loved it I was still unsure of myself.  It wasn't the dancing itself, or the people that surrounded that part of my life.  It was the place I was in my life during my dancing days.  We learned about something called muscle memory when I was in massage school.  Your mind can associate a muscle or movement with something that happened in the past.  Your muscles essentially store this memory, and when that particular muscle or movement is engaged in a particular way your mind can suddenly remember or react in what seems to you as an abnormal way.  That's what happened to me.  The action of dancing, plus the people and atmosphere all similar to a past moment in my life triggered the response.  Although I remember all that I went through, have worked through all of my issues and insecurities from that time, and have even talked about or remembered the past events, my body wasn't used to that pattern anymore.  Kind of crazy, huh?  It's one of those things I have always read about but never experienced.

I'm not bothered by it, nor am I worried it will happen again.  In fact it helped me realize how far I have really come in the last 10+ years.  I've worked hard to be a better and stronger person, and still continue to do so.  Because I don't think you are ever done growing and evolving as a person.  I just hope that I get the opportunity to dance again soon now that I have this new knowledge about myself.  :-)

30 seconds can change a crappy week...

As some people may know, I decided to apply for an online bachelor's program through a college in CT.  During my lunch break today I got a call from one of their admissions advisors.  Long story short, pending financial aid I was accepted for the Fall 2012 semester!  I went ahead and applied, because thinking of the last time I applied for a college (out of high school back in 1992), you had to send in your application, wait for your ACT scores to come in, etc.  Applying for a program geared towards full time employees that have several college credits already is a little bit easier!  I spoke to her for a few minutes and found out a little more about the program and what my requirements will be.  I can transfer 90 credit hours from U of L, which means I will have to take 30 credit hours to graduate.  If I take 2 classes per 8 week term, plus 2 classes over the summer, I will finish in a year.  You have no idea how awesome that is!

Here is a little background:  I started U of L as a Music Ed. major on scholarship, and graduated with my Associates degree in Radiography.  This means I have a LOT of credit hours.  143 to be exact.  The reaction from admissions at Bridgeport College was "We just wanted to make sure you were indeed applying for a Bachelor's degree and not a Master's, since you have so many credits."  Me: "Yeah, I know....I am for sure applying for your Bachelor's program."  LOL this made me chuckle.  I explained how all these credits came about.  Both Music and Radiography programs have very specific courses you take, unlike programs like psychology, history, business, etc.  Those programs you could potentially transfer your core classes for other degrees.  However, courses such as Orchestra, Brass Methods, Radiographic Positioning, Radiographic Exposures, etc. will not transfer to any other degree obviously!  I do have several General Ed. courses as well though, which is why this program is perfect for me.  The reason I haven't gone back for my Bachelor's degree for the last 10 years is because even with all my credits it would take me another 2 years full time to get all the credits I would need.  With all the credits I have already, and trying to work full time, that was just crazy to me!  There are the basic ed. classes, such as 3 semesters of a language, communications requirements, history requirements, etc.  Then you add all of the courses you need for the core program you are enrolled in.  Plus I would have to try to attend courses around work.  It was just never feasible.  Then came the online programs.  Most were either from "online colleges" with no real credibility, or the program still required a boat load of courses I still had to take.  Then came Bridgeport College.  They have a Social Sciences program, which is more general than many Bachelor's programs.  The program is geared towards someone in my exact situation.  It is a REAL college with a campus, and even a basketball team!  LOL  I'll have to get a T-shirt and root for their Division II team.  ;-)  I can work on my coursework at nights and on weekends, and even lunch breaks if need be.  I can still have my job and even my tuition reimbursement from our company.

What seems funny to me is how many people (mostly people my age and older) ask "What will you do with a Bachelor's".  My initial response is "Well, I'll have a Bachelor's.".  Having this many credits and no BS diploma is very disheartening.  I would eventually like to switch careers, but in today's world just having a Bachelor's degree in anything at all is the main requirement in many jobs.  Plus it will give you a leg up in any career, including my current one.

So, there you go.  I'm going to be a full time college student again!  Pending my financial aid that is.  I can't afford it if I can't at least get a student loan.  I'm super excited to finally get my Bachelor's degree.  I am looking in to leaning towards nutrition or health services.  Bridgeport also has an online Master's in Nutrition that peaked my interest, but that's way down the line!  One step at a time.  :-D

I don't know nothin' about birthin' no babies...

Yeah, I gasp every time I see this pamphlet too.   And I'm the one who essentially asked my doctor for it!  LATER childbearing, really?  Well, if I want to have kids that is the category I fall in.

So I'm sure many are asking why I have information on getting pregnant when I'm not married yet, let alone trying to have a baby.  I am a planner.  I like to map out a basic blueprint as to where my life is going and what I want for my future.  When I was in high school/college I assumed my life would be as follows:  Meet my future husband in college, graduate college, get a kick ass job, get married, have babies, live happily ever after.  Needless to say that's not exactly what life had in store for me.  But I'm a big believer that everything happens for a reason.  I wasn't ready to settle down at 25, or even 30.  Not to mention I had yet to meet "the one".  I was not going to settle down with the wrong person for me just to fit in to the status quo.  I would rather be alone than stuck with the wrong person for the rest of my life!!  Plus I refuse to rush a relationship just to make sure I got married in time to have children, nor will I rush being newly married in case I run out of time to get pregnant.  A relationship, a marriage, is something that takes time.  I want to be able to enjoy the person I'm with and make sure they are indeed the right person before I throw in complications such as marriage and children into the mix.

So, that brings us to current day.  Being 37 I know my days of being able to have a child are numbered.  Yes, I hear all the time how women have kids all the way through their 40's.  But I refuse to do that.  For one, the risk for both the mother and the child goes up exponentially.  Plus, the chance of birth defects goes up significantly after 40.  I also don't want to have to attend my child's graduation using a walker or Hoveround, or have to bury their parents before they are even able to have children of their own.  It's not fair to the child, and It's not fair to my health either.  So, at my annual appointment this month I decided to ask my doctor about having children at my age, and what age should I start being concerned for my own health as well as the baby's.

That's how I came to acquire this lovely pamphlet.  It does come as quite of a shock that I'm considered "Later Age" when it comes to childbearing.  Hell, I don't even feel ready to start a family!  It kind of freaks me out thinking about having children.  Which is especially ironic since most of my friends that plan on having children have already been there, done that years ago.  Then I have to tell myself come on, you're 37.  My mom had 2 children, one almost of legal age, and a divorce under her belt by the time she was my age.  But that just seems crazy to me!

So, where do I stand with possibly having children?  Only time will tell.  I am not yet married, so there's that to take care of first!  If I settle down in the next year or 2 then getting pregnant is still a possibility for me.  If I don't, or if for some reason I do get married and the timing just isn't right for having a child, then it wasn't meant to be.  As I said before, I believe everything happens for a reason.  If I am meant to have a child it will happen.  If it doesn't happen, then it wasn't meant to be.  I refuse to base my life and happiness on if I have kids or not.  It's not fair to myself, and it's not fair to the child if I have one.  I live in the moment and refuse to fret and worry and have my life dictated on things that are beyond my control.  So I guess we'll see what the next few years brings for me!  First let's see if I settle down and get married first and when, then we'll go from there.  :-)