Without further ado, here's a brief history of what the heck has been up with me for the last year...
|WCHS image courtesy of www.rootsweb.ancestry.com|
July 2012: I have a very nice job offer to work as a Marketing Assistant/Front Office Assistant at the Warren County Historical Society literally fall into my lap. It's part-time (three days a week during school hours) and right in the heart of downtown Lebanon just about a mile from my kiddos school. The work sounds interesting and all the people at WCHS that I meet - both the staff and the legions of volunteers - are very nice.
The job seems to be God-sent. I'd had a moment of clarity in late winter of 2012 - a moment after all the hullabaloo around the Christmas had settled down and I had finally organized the majority of my house - when I looked around and realized that I had waaaay too much time on my hands now that all three of my kids were in school (5th, 3rd, and K).
I remember eating lunch that wintry day, looking out the window, wondering what I would do in the couple of hours before school pick up, and realizing that this too-much-time-to-myself thing was going to drive me slaptastically crazy pretty soon. I had a fleeting moment where I thought these exact words, "Dude*, this is nuts. I either need to find a job or we need to have another baby."
Early August 2012: God reminds me that not only does He listen to my offhand prayers, but that He also has a wicked sense of humor.
August 2012-October 2012: I spend an inordinate amount of time hunched over one of these, usually early in the morning before the kids are up and oh-so-thankfully never at work.
On the plus side, I lose a good 10 lbs and get several compliments on my slender frame.
March 2013: About three weeks to go until the baby arrives and I'm looking forward to seeing my ankles again**, making it up the stairs in less than five minutes***, and wearing something besides the last two maternity outfits I have that fit my now not-so-slender waist.
I spend my March afternoons napping; I stopped working in February and was able to pass my very nice little job along to another mom friend in need of local employment. Win-win!
March 27, 2013: Baby girl arrives safe and sound! Knute and I name her for our Irish grandmas - Elizabeth Teresa. She's 8 lbs, 13 oz, 21 inches of adorablenesss. Her brothers and her sister get the afternoon off of school to come visit her in the hospital.
I'm discharged on March 29 even though my legs have swollen to resemble those of an elephant and my blood pressure has been creeping up instead of coming down. Hmmm....
March 31, 2013: After a quick trip in to the doctor on Friday morning because I was having dizzy spells, I am taking blood pressure meds (hello, postpartum hypertension!) and still feeling pretty crummy. We miss Easter Mass. Knute takes the kids to his sister's for Easter dinner and I stay home with the baby but can't get any rest; my blood pressure rises every time I lay down and waves of dizziness and nausea hit me.
Late that afternoon, my doc calls. After reviewing my blood work from our Friday appointment, she wants me to come in to the ER for more tests. My parents come over to stay with the older kids while Knute and I pack up the baby and head to the ER. I try not to cry while hugging the big kids goodbye. I fail.
I spend the rest of Easter night on a gurney in the ER, looking over at Knute and our new baby daughter, and praying that the CAT scan they ran on me to check for a Pulmonary Embolism comes back negative (because those PEs - dude, they can kill ya). My rosary gets good and sweaty in the clutches of my hands.
The CAT scan comes back clear (PRAISE!) but they admit for the night anyhow and my doc lets me know that I need to take.care.of.myself. As in sleep, rest, let others help, and for goodness sake, take the damn percocet already (my words, not hers) so my body isn't stressed from dealing with the pain (that I don't really feel because of my hyper-adrenalized state). She also gives me a scrip for Zoloft to keep my anxiety in check; I'm worrying myself sick (literally) over not being able to sleep and thinking my high blood pressure is going to cause a stroke.
I am so grateful to be alive. Taking bp meds and anti-depressants for a couple of months seems a teeny-tiny price to pay for remaining on God's green earth.
I love these crazy kids. I love my crazy life.
Today: Life is better than ever - and so am I.
For more fantastic 7QT posts, see this week's linkup at Conversion Diary.
*Believe me, I would never have the audacity to refer to the God, Jesus, or the Holy Spirit as "Dude." I just catch myself talking to myself in the third person this way. Yeah, I know, kinda nutty.
**And God laughed. Due to all the edema I had postpartum (which caused the blood pressure problem), I didn't see my ankle bones again until late April.
***And God laughed. AGAIN. Due to my blood pressure making crazy shifts up and down, it took me two weeks to make it up and down the stairs without feeling like I was going to collapse.