Control enthusiast.
First of all, this is my 23rd post and while it isn't a milestone, it is a very big deal. In my first post, I said that blogging sounded good but I would likely fall off the wagon like I always do when I try to write. But I'm still here!
I also mentioned in my first post ("The B.C. Era") that I'm a control enthusiast. It came from a National Car Rental commercial a couple years ago, and the phrase is genius. Who wouldn't rather be an "enthusiast" than a "freak"? Whatever term you want to put behind it, it's me.
When I was first pregnant with James, I thought I was having a girl. I tried nearly every Old Wives Tale in the book, including peeing on baking soda. I got mixed results (from the banking soda and every other test). Then I posted the image of his NT scan in a group that guessed sex based on "nub theory" and it was universally "boy." Right after that, I dreamed I was having a boy, and then...the moment when I really knew. The song "Zion" by Lauryn Hill. It is a love letter to her first born son, and it is just beautiful. I heard it on the radio in early pregnancy and started bawling, and I knew. It was a boy.
Nonetheless, I couldn't wait for the 20 week ultrasound to have it confirmed, so I found a nearby location that did elective ultrasounds and would tell me the sex beginning at 11 weeks. No lie, I scheduled my appointment for the very day I hit 11 weeks. We invited both sets of parents to the ultrasound, we had confirmation approximately 3 seconds after the wand touched my belly, and the rest is history. With Vivian, I was "advanced maternal age" and did advanced maternal age testing as soon as I could, so we knew it was a girl around 12 weeks.
With both kids, I did evening primrose oil and red raspberry leaf tea as soon as it was google-approved safe, ate dates and pineapple rinds and bounced on a stability ball, and all the other tricks to get babies to come because I couldn't handle the "wait for a surprise" appearance. With Vivian, I even did acupressure, which sent me immediately into labor on the second round.
Us Control Enthusiasts do not do well with indefinite waiting. Currently, I'm waiting for a follow up with my surgical oncologist. Waiting for an initial consult with a plastic surgeon to discuss which type of surgery I will have after this chemo is done. Waiting to see if/when my hair will start shedding. Waiting for my follow up echocardiogram to ensure that the Hereptin antibody therapy is not affecting my heart. Waiting for my follow up MRI to see if the chemo is killing the cancer. Waiting for promotion news. Waiting for confirmation about a speaking engagement.
Waiting.
As I got ready to leave the house today, I had my Prince station going on Pandora. Zion came on. I couldn't help but think - in the spirit of "everything happens for a reason" - that maybe, just maybe, there is a lesson for me in this storm.
Be easy. Be patient. Be less control enthusiastic. Be more health conscious. Be more in tune with my body. Be more present. Just be.
I followed this with a trip to the bank with my son to open his first bank accounts. I let him sign his own name for his account and fill out as much as he could on his very first deposit slip; to help me count coins and help with the coin rollers. It was a beautiful experience, and it was not for the impatient.
I also mentioned in my first post ("The B.C. Era") that I'm a control enthusiast. It came from a National Car Rental commercial a couple years ago, and the phrase is genius. Who wouldn't rather be an "enthusiast" than a "freak"? Whatever term you want to put behind it, it's me.
When I was first pregnant with James, I thought I was having a girl. I tried nearly every Old Wives Tale in the book, including peeing on baking soda. I got mixed results (from the banking soda and every other test). Then I posted the image of his NT scan in a group that guessed sex based on "nub theory" and it was universally "boy." Right after that, I dreamed I was having a boy, and then...the moment when I really knew. The song "Zion" by Lauryn Hill. It is a love letter to her first born son, and it is just beautiful. I heard it on the radio in early pregnancy and started bawling, and I knew. It was a boy.
Nonetheless, I couldn't wait for the 20 week ultrasound to have it confirmed, so I found a nearby location that did elective ultrasounds and would tell me the sex beginning at 11 weeks. No lie, I scheduled my appointment for the very day I hit 11 weeks. We invited both sets of parents to the ultrasound, we had confirmation approximately 3 seconds after the wand touched my belly, and the rest is history. With Vivian, I was "advanced maternal age" and did advanced maternal age testing as soon as I could, so we knew it was a girl around 12 weeks.
With both kids, I did evening primrose oil and red raspberry leaf tea as soon as it was google-approved safe, ate dates and pineapple rinds and bounced on a stability ball, and all the other tricks to get babies to come because I couldn't handle the "wait for a surprise" appearance. With Vivian, I even did acupressure, which sent me immediately into labor on the second round.
Us Control Enthusiasts do not do well with indefinite waiting. Currently, I'm waiting for a follow up with my surgical oncologist. Waiting for an initial consult with a plastic surgeon to discuss which type of surgery I will have after this chemo is done. Waiting to see if/when my hair will start shedding. Waiting for my follow up echocardiogram to ensure that the Hereptin antibody therapy is not affecting my heart. Waiting for my follow up MRI to see if the chemo is killing the cancer. Waiting for promotion news. Waiting for confirmation about a speaking engagement.
Waiting.
As I got ready to leave the house today, I had my Prince station going on Pandora. Zion came on. I couldn't help but think - in the spirit of "everything happens for a reason" - that maybe, just maybe, there is a lesson for me in this storm.
Be easy. Be patient. Be less control enthusiastic. Be more health conscious. Be more in tune with my body. Be more present. Just be.
I followed this with a trip to the bank with my son to open his first bank accounts. I let him sign his own name for his account and fill out as much as he could on his very first deposit slip; to help me count coins and help with the coin rollers. It was a beautiful experience, and it was not for the impatient.
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