And then..

Minutes after my last post, I got a phone call. It was the hepatology PA I'd seen in NOLA Monday. She ran blood work, and I also had an ultrasound of my liver Thursday.

I will be having a liver biopsy. Not because anything looked bad on the ultrasound, but because of other test results. It was determined I have genotype 1 which is the most resistant to treatment. The biopsy will tell us if there is damage and if so what "stage" it is, and therefore give us a better idea of whether or not to go ahead with treatment.

So right now I am praying for no liver damage. But my gut tells me that I'm going to get my miracle "the long way around", meaning successful treatment. In my heart, there is NO fear. But in my flesh, there is panic. I dont want to go through this. Who would? Since my will and God's will are seldom the same, I'm just moving forward in faith. Yesterday, I was afraid. Today looks better. I'm sure I'll have some anxiety everytime we approach appointments, but that's just nervous anticipation. In my heart of hearts, my deepest soul, I know I will be fine. It's the unknown parts of the journey that have me a little shaken.

Forgiveness

So, baggage. I don't know about you, but I recently found out I was carrying much more baggage than I thought I was. It's time to put it down.

I have memories of specific incidents that were still causing me pain. The ones I was having the most trouble with were times when I know the hurt was not intended. And somehow I had myself convinced that since there was no ill-intent, there was nothing to forgive. I went as far as believing that if I "forgave" them, I was saying what they did was wrong, and they just didn't mean it. It finally clicked that since forgiveness is for my healing, their intention didn't really matter. I still have to forgive and let go to be healed.

One small example I recall: I was about 8 years old. My parents and I were downtown and walking toward the City Hall building. I asked why we were there and my dad turned around and snapped "To put you up for adoption." He didn't intend to crush me, but he did. He "just" wanted me to shut up (that's another post). And I knew he wasn't serious, but it hurt to the core none-the-less. Thirty-six years later, I still remember it in great detail. And I have to forgive this and other incidents if I want to go forward. I have to forgive every time it comes to my mind.

There are some incidents where harm was intentional, but those do not involve my parents. The perpetrators are no longer in my life, but they still invade my spirit. When they do, I rehash the incidents and I stand up for myself. That sounds like it would be healthy and helpful, but it really isn't. I'm still giving energy to the hurt, and sometimes I actually get more angry and hurt by reliving things that all happened over 20 years ago. I have to forgive each person each time it comes up.

Then comes forgiving myself. Believe it or not, I have to forgive myself for the times I was hurt by others - because all along I believed I was in some way responsible for allowing them to hurt me.

Then there was the biggie. The one thing I regret with all of my heart. If I could go back and have just one do-over... I can't even think about it without crying. I regret that when my son was born I was not strong enough to demand he not be circumcised. (And please, if you circ'ed your sons and have no problem with your decision, don't condemn me for my feelings) I didn't want to do it, but I allowed those around me to convince me it was okay. Yes, he's "okay" now, he even knows he's circumcised, but there's no way of knowing what altering his body on his second day of life changed about him. It's his body and the choice should have been his. And he had complications too. Out of respect for his privacy I won't go into it, but when it happened the doctors and nurses all said it was not uncommon and it was a result of being circumcised as though we should have known.

I'm part of a women's group at church and we've been focusing on forgiveness the past 2 weeks. I've learned more and let go of more in this time than at any other point of my life. I am being Healed and it feels really great!

Spring

We've had beautiful weather the past week or so. Most days have been in the 70s with a few even warmer.

My Azalea plants are blooming like never before. I have at least 10, all in pots. We have clay soil, and I'd never been motivated to do the soil prep necessary for them to survive. We've lived here almost 20 years, and I've only planted 2 larger plants - one ligustrum and one camellia.

But this year I am motivated. Read that as "I am not so depressed and in pain that I do nothing until it's too hot." I feel good now. My body pains are gone, and my mood is good. I'm sure the 2 are related. I am still taking 8 - 10 fish oil caps a day and the difference is huge. Not only has it done away with my joint pain, stiffness, and soreness, I have not had a bout with uveitis since I began taking them. For over 5 years, I had small episodes almost monthly and 2 or 3 times a year, I'd have a week (or more) long episode. Now, nothing.

I am healing. I am healing from the inside out. So many little things that used to add up to me feeling lousy physically or emotionally (or both) are just gone. And all the glory goes to God. I was put at the right places, and brought to the right people at the right time. It's a long long story, but it's all God, and it's ongoing.

Back to my gardening. As I look out of my window right now, there are squirrels, cardinals, and doves all in my line of sight.
Today I discovered an azalea that's not blooming was full of fire ants (yep - full of bites, on top of last week's poison ivy). It was one I wanted to put in the ground, but the lack of blooms had me puzzled. I hope to save the plant and rid it of the ants because it's a deep red bloom.

Anyway, I pulled it out of the pot to access the ant situation and I discovered a germinated pecan! Thank you squirrels!
So I am now growing a pecan tree in a pot. It would be cool to have a pecan tree.

So far, I've gotten a satsuma tree and a crepe myrtle in the ground.

And I have a hole almost ready for the first azalea. I intend to go on planting until it gets too hot. I've placed everything where I'd like to put it. I've always kept my potted plants on the front porch to add color to the front of our house. This year, when I brought them out of my laundry room (where they are for winter), I put them in the back yard. I am enjoying them so much more there! I can see them all day long. And it's not costing me anything. We've been piling up leaves from the oak tree for many many years and I am finding the most incredible dirt at the bottom.

Back to digging!

Potential

I begin this post by apologizing to my Yankee friends still in the depths of winter.

Today, it's 70 deg and sunny. Just as soon as this post is written, I will be back out in it. I drug all of my potted plants out of the laundry room and screened porch and into the backyard today. Many thrived well. They like the fluorescent light they've been exposed to, and they've mostly avoided the frost.




Some look pretty rough...




But there's new growth!




The Periwinkle at the base of the Live Oak is sprouting nicely




And I found these tiny flowers in a neighbor's yard while chasing Missy today



I'm considering leaving my plants in the back yard since I'd see and enjoy them so much more than on the front porch. The front needs something - maybe just some small hedges.


So... Potential. Will this get deep? Depends on how much time I get here. :)
As of today, no plant, regardless of appearance, is declared dead. Even the brownest twigs still have a "bounce" when twisted - they don't snap like dead limbs do.

And I am also declaring that I am not dead either. I am growing (on the inside only I hope), I am learning, I am aware and absorbing all I can. The sunlight really does make me *bloom*. I let that get away from me last year. I'm not sure why, but I let spring go by without enjoying it and went straight into summer, which was just too darn hot. I will continue to reach out and connect where I can. I am feeling much better than I was last year. Perhaps that's the difference - no pain this year.

I'm full of potential and I am going to recognize and celebrate and stretch it.

February?

How did the month of January go by so quickly? I still have Christmas lights hanging outside, and the decorations are still waiting to go in the attic. We've had unseasonably warm days and ridiculously cold days. Today is too cold for me. Our little house just can't warm up.

The boy continues to grow at a ridiculous rate. He will pass me up soon. My shoes are too small for him! He had a bad round of the flu. Not that any flu is good, he was just very sick for several days. So was his dad. I take many more supplements than they are willing to take so I was only sick for 3 days and considered it a bad cold. But they were both much sicker than I. They are taking their D3 vitamins now! Poor Greg still can't hear from fluid in his ears - he ended up at the doctor's office with an infection.

Speaking of supplements, I started going to the chiropractor in December. Well, to go back a bit further I had been in pain all over for several months. Joint pain, bone pain, headaches, and uveitis. In August my eye doctor recommended I see a rheumatologist. I pretty much blew that off because of the cost. Then Greg had a kidney stone in September for which he had to have lithotripsy, so our deductible was met. I had uveitis flares in October and November so I made an appointment w/the rheumatologist - in mid-December. By Thanksgiving I was just miserable with pain. Getting out of bed was painful. Rolling over in bed was painful. It took a long time each day for me to be able to move around from the stiffness. I was ready for medication. Nothing I was doing was helping.

I figured it wouldn't hurt anything, so I finally called for a chiropractic appointment. I got in that day and saw him 4 times that first week. He sees the supplements I'm taking and asks about how much fish oil I was taking. At the time, I was taking 2 capsules a day, if I remembered. He said to start taking much more - like 8 or 10 a day, for inflammation. That was cheap and safe enough to try, so I began taking 3 capsules 3 times a day. Within 2 weeks of supplements and adjustments I was 80% - 90% better. I did a little research and found that ginger is also good for treating inflammation so I began taking that 3 caps/3x daily as well.

Two months into it, I have no joint pain and very very little pain in my right leg (this was excruciating for a long while). I'm now seeing the chiropractor every 2 weeks and still pain free. If I feel a twinge of pain coming on, I take more fish oil instead of a pain reliever. I had a uveitis flare for about a week in January, but it didn't last as long or hurt as constantly as in the past. Oh, and I've lost 10 pounds too. Yes, I am moving a bit more because of the lack of pain and maybe I'm not snacking so much (since I know that processed foods make inflammation worse), but I've not done enough of either to explain 10 pounds. I wonder if the inflammation in my body was actually adding weight, or if perhaps the fish oils are changing my metabolism. I'm not finding any info referring to either. I'm not really concerned about the cause, just curious. :)

As for the rheumatologist, I have a follow-up apointment in March, 12 weeks after the initial appointment. I had 7 vials of blood drawn and over a dozen x-rays that day and I've not been contacted about any results. That leaves me to believe that this doctor thinks 12 weeks is an acceptable waiting time for test results. Not my idea of a good doctor, not even a decent one. So I'll be contacting his nurse to get my lab results and cancelling my follow-up. I think God planned for me to see both doctors while I financially was able. I've seen the difference in how I am treated and know I do not need the drugs I was originally going to the rheumatologist to get.

Laylah Christian

I am exhausted! Thursday afternoon, my friend Brandie finally went into the birthing center. She'd been contracting for days and began dilating weeks ago. She saw the midwife in the am, who told her to go home, eat, shower, do some walking around the block and then come back when she was ready. She was offered the chance at a water birth, but decided she wanted the epidural more. Anyway, about an hour after the epidural her contractions had all but stopped (big surprise), so they began pitocin. I know that is usually the recipe for a c-section, but I kept my mouth shut. She'd already had 6 vaginal births and I didn't want to add to her emotional stress. Thankfully, the pitocin did indeed get things going well. Finally about 1 am she couldn't take the contractions anymore. She was also having pain that she felt was in her bladder - once the midwife heard that & removed the catheter, it was better. But by this time she's in very active labor. After witnessing a couple of contractions, realizing the epidural was wearing off, the midwife said, "Okay lets just go ahead and deliver. I've never witnessed a birth before. If you ever have the chance, don't pass it up. So amazing! First thing I know, I am seeing hair. The midwife called Dad over to catch the baby and he did great. Brandie pushed 2 maybe 3 more times and Laylah was here. She was crying immediately. Next thing I know, the midwife is saying "who's this lady?" It took us all a minute to realize she was talking about me. She said come cut the cord. I don't think I've ever gotten my camera strap off my neck so quickly. My hand was shaking. It was surreal. Then after the cut, baby is wisked over to the warmer for cleaning and weighing. When I realized I had blood on my hands, I didn't want to wash it off. It was too precious. Then the midwife told me I had blood on my shirt, and I smiled. I also told her that if it were me, I'd be taking the placenta home. Of course, I'd never seen a placenta (in person) before either. So far, no one wants to see the picture I took of it. :P

So Laylah Christian held out long enough to be born Friday Nov. 5th, her mommy's 36th birthday! She is pefect. And I am a Nanny again. :)

Mini Me

I have always enjoyed watching for Greg's personality traits in our son. He is most definitely his father's son. As I spend my days with him, I sometimes see my father, Greg's brother, even my father-in-law in him. But I've recently begun to see and allow myself to appreciate the me in him. He loves music (well, he gets that from us both). He's endlessly creative.

He's constantly rearranging his bedroom (a passion of mine). He wants an apartment in the garage (yes this is the same child who shared our bed until he was 9). He's settled for setting up his closet as a bedroom, thus leaving the rest of his room as his apartment. "Now, I come out of my 'room' and there's still another door before I get to you." I remember trying to make a clubhouse out of my closet. I remember all of the arranging ideas that I knew better than to try.

Thank you God for my memories. For the memories of what I wanted to do, and the memories of the feeling of not being allowed to try much. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of this incredible child's life. It really is an honor, and I don't want to ever forget that, not even momentarily.

It worked!

Monday night @ midnight, Fallout: New Vegas was released (video game), and the night owls that we are were there to pick up the game. Gregory had a friend over, and Tuesday afternoon Hubby told him he needed to at least make an offer for the friend to play (bless his heart, he's used to having to wait for his turn & never even asked to play). Next thing I know, Landon (friend) is playing and Gregory is pouting and exuding negative energy. I assumed it was because he felt he had to hand the game over. I called him over to me to talk about it.

He sat down, face parallel to the floor, and I asked what the problem was. He just shook his head no and didn't speak. I didn't relent. He (& his dad) know by now that when I ask, "what's wrong?" I don't let it go. After a minute or so, with a cracking voice he says he's so stupid. I wasn't expecting that. I asked why he felt that way and he said he'd been playing for 2 hours without saving, and his character got killed, so he lost everything he'd done in that 2 hours. His broken heart was so heavy.

I picked up his chin with my hand and stared him in the eye. I told him he's not stupid and he responded "yes I am", several times. I started telling him he's not stupid, he made a mistake. That when I forget to buy tea bags (a hot commodity in the house) it didn't make me stupid. Told him I wouldn't allow someone else to be so mean to him, and I wasn't going to let him do it either. Looking him straight in the eye, I told him how smart, how capable, how lovable he is. Then I told him, "You are a smart, good person. Say it." He mumbled it quickly. "Again!" I said. He repeated. "Again!" "I'm a smart, good person." "Again!"...

After a couple of minutes, he was grinning while saying it, and then giggling. "Again!" With a smile on his face he says, "You know this is torture, right?" "Yep! Again!" We ended up laughing so hard our sides hurt. And most importantly, he was no longer believing the lies his "self" was telling him.

Thank you God for allowing me to be in and stay in the moment with him, and for the ability to help him out of a pit. Allow me to remember this lesson (what I thought he was upset about vs. the real reason) and the honor of watching him grow through it.

You didn't see anything...

Yeah, I'm going to pretend that I haven't gone 9 months without posting.

Yesterday, Vivian's baby sister Alden was born. Alena's baby sister will be born anyday now. Gregory turned 12 in July. Chase and Kayla are now 11. Mikey is 4 and going to school. JoJo just turned 3, and Stella will be 3 soon too. Alena is 2 and just too cute! Her mommy says anytime anyone knocks at their door, she goes running down the hall yelling, "Nana's here! Nana's here!" (I'm Nana)

Now you are up to date on the important stuff. :)

Gumbo

I don't like to cook. I'm not very creative, nor are the palates of my dining companions. I'm also not a recipe follower - I'm a pinch of this, dash of that kind of cook. But recently I've hit on something my hubby asked me to please write down. It's my gumbo. I've made it several times lately and he's asked me to make it when we've had friends over. So here goes my attempt to make a recipe out of my gumbo experience.

First, the roux (pronounced roo, like kangaroo). Traditionally, a roux is made with one part veg. oil and one part all purpose flour. I could get a nice medium roux this way, but if I tried for a dark roux, it would burn. Everytime. A while back, I'd heard of a "dry roux", using only the flour and not the oil. Rather than frying the flour, you are toasting it. I use the same iron skillet and the same amount of flour (1 cup per batch), stir it like usual to keep from burning, and slowly but surely it will darken (a medium heat, stirred almost constantly).
Another nice thing is I can make extra roux to keep for later.

Because I don't cook with them often enough to use fresh, I use Zatarain's dried bell peppers, onions, and green onions. I soak about 1/4c of each of those in a couple of cups of water while my roux is darkening. To that mix, I also add parsley powder(~1Tsp), cayenne pepper(~1tsp), creole seasoning(~2Tsp), and one chicken bullion cube (salt & black pepper as well {~1Tsp each to start}).


I use an 8 quart stainless stock pot, and for this size gumbo, I will use 3 boneless chicken breasts and 1.5 pounds of smoked sausage, both cut & browned before adding to gumbo.


Once my roux is dark enough, I slowly add the seasonings & the water they soaked in. This will bring the roux to a paste.


While I am dealing with the roux and seasonings, I have the browned chicken and sausage cooking in a couple of quarts of water in the stock pot. Once my roux paste is thin enough to pour (yet still thick - cake batter-ish), I pour it into the stock pot.


Then I fill the pot (again, an 8qt pot) with hot water and allow this to cook at a slow boil for as many hours as possible (at LEAST 3). Gumbo is something that gets better everytime it's heated. While it is cooking, it will thicken and you will probably need to add water after an hour or so. It's this step that determines how thick your gumbo will be. And if/when you add more water, be sure to allow it to cook down for at least another half hour. Also, check for seasonings every half-hour or so. I usually add salt & pepper as it cooks. We like our gumbo thick - on the line of a bisque or a cream soup. Some like it thinner. I'd say go with thicker if you're unsure - you can always add a little more water.This is the pot at the beginning of the cook. When it's *ready*, it has cooked down to about 3/4 full.

More traditional gumbo would use chicken on-the-bone for stock flavoring. It would use andoulli, and fresh veggies(~.5c each), perhaps even okra (though we only use okra in seafood gumbo). All of these things can only make your gumbo better. But you can make a very good gumbo without. Just saying...