Seizures, Seizures...

Seizures are awful. If you have never witnessed somehow seizing you have NO IDEA how scary it is. Sure it sounds horrifying but to see one, is unimaginable. Now picture THIS, your sweet 15 month old baby, seizing uncontrollably (I'm sure all seizures are uncontrollable, I mean who would do that on purpose?). My baby boy had his first seizure at 15 months and would go on to have another seizure about every month, on the average, for the next year and a half. Anytime he got sick, had a cold, a fever, a cough, anything, we were on high alert. And without fail, he would have a seizure. The doctors kept calling them "febrile seizures" and I was on board (nothing scarier than having something wrong with your child and not know what or why), but Hubby was NOT SOLD. He was suspicious because the baby didn't always have a fever, he was always sick but not always a fever. AND majority of the time, it was where he was running around "normal" all day and then BOOM at night, seizure.

The good news about Febrile seizures is, the kid almost always grow out of them usually no more seizures after about 5 years old. So, how do you deal with a child who seizes almost anytime he gets sick? You watch him like a hawk and kiss your social life goodbye, become that kids shadow like never before. He is with me constantly and if he wasn't in the same room (taking a nap or playing with siblings), I had my handy dandy visual monitor that I carried at all times. He sleeps with me in my bed, we bought another bed for hubby and he sleeps uninterrupted in a completely different room (most people find this horrifying and unhealthy for a married couple but you gotta do what you gotta do and believe me, we find the time to hang out and cuddle and ...).

The first 3 seizures we called 911 and had him taken to the hospital via ambulance.  There are several reasons why this sucks but more specifically? The ER team has to administer an IV into any seizure patient that comes in so they have a way to administer meds in case of another one. Trying to find that tiny, little vein in the arm of a small child who is typically dehydrated because they are sick and just had a seizure is like a blind woman trying to put thread though the eye of a needle. Not easy. Silly me, I forgot to add a moving needle. As most kids would be, Jacob did not fare well when his adversaries were the IV needle and the nurses holding him down. He fought like hell, every single time a nurse could be overheard saying "gosh he's strong". Now add the other tests, all the waiting, the moans, groans and screams from other ER patients. It's all very scary to a 15 month old baby, ipads, iphones and ipods all help with the distracting but it just.plain.sucks. 


After the 2nd seizure, the pediatrician recommended an EEG. This is another one of those things like shots and IV's, kids generally hate, my little guy didn't disappoint, he took it to a whole new level. He screamed, fought (like a crazed lunatic), cried, kicked and collapsed during his EEG. But, it had to be done and we were able to find out that his brain activity was normal, WHEW. What a HUGE relief.


After the ER visit to the hospital, we always had a follow up appointment with his pediatrician. Almost every visite we heard, "he has some respitory issues, here's a nebulizer and some albuterol" (after his 2nd seizure we moved him to xopenex because albuterol has seizures as a side effect). Then it would be 3-4 days and he was better. As luck would have it, my little guy didn't remember his seizures. As a matter of fact, the only thing he ever remembered were the awful ER visits. He was getting so bad that it was making him anxious around any nurse, doctor or even any building that looked like a hospital. So, in direct response to my baby's stress and growing anxiety, his pediatrician and I decided that we would no longer go to the ER after his seizures, instead we would just come see him (unless his seizure was longer than 7 minutes).

On January 1, 2012 my baby had a seizure in the early morning. His pediatrician's office was closed (in support of the new year holiday) so I took him to "urgent care" and we went through the "same ole, same ole", make sure he's hydrated, give breathing treatment if necessary and give his pediatrician a call for an appointment the next day. My "pleasant surprise" on this day was the doctor told me his own story of suffering from febrile seizures himself when he was a child, and he grew up to be a doctor, so maybe my brain damage concerns weren't THAT valid. After the appointment, I took the baby home and left for the drugstore to pick up some meds for him. I wasn't 2 minutes from the house when my hubby called me, in a total and complete panic, 
"Come home, I think he just had another seizure."
"Are you sure?"
"We'll not completely but he was shaking and I think it was a seizure". (Remember, outside of the first one, my hubby was not "hands on" during seizures, I was usually with the baby and hubby was taking care of the older kids and everything else)
"I need you to be sure, if he had more than one seizure in a 24 hour period, it's not febrile anymore, it's more serious."
"He had a seizure".
"I'll be there in a minute."

Two seizures, one day. This.changes.EVERYTHING!

Christmas, news and homecomings, Oh my!

Christmas Day. My favorite Holiday, time to celebrate Jesus's birth and bake and eat and open gifts and see "holiday family" (the only time you see these family members are during the holidays) and be merry and grateful and sing carols and a million other things. Almost EVERYONE I know loves Christmas. What's not to love, such a joyful holiday, so much fun, so much love. But this year is different, the baby and I are still in the hospital. Things are looking up though, his breathing treatments are going well, the IV comes out and he's finally eating again. We might be able to go home today, just have to get the baby's oxygen levels to hold and we are as good as gone. BEST.CHRISTMAS.HOPE.EVER.  We might be going home!  YAY!

Considering I had never spent a holiday in the hospital I had no idea what to expect, so I expected nothing. My hubby and I talked and he was going to bring the older kids in later so we could all open gifts and spend some quiet, quality family time together, I was looking forward to it and thought this day might not be so sad after all. 

But something even more magical was in store for us this Christmas. Thanks to many AMAZING people in our community, we were bombarded with love and joy and hope on this day. The local fire department came and brought Santa and Mrs. Claus and gifts. One of the local John Deere Unions donated a wrapped gift to every child in pediatrics. Random volunteers, local businesses, local charities and churches all giving of their time and generosity, we were showered with gifts and cheer from complete strangers. It was a confirmation of what a beautiful community we live in and the kindred spirits and hearts of these great american people. I was BLOWN away.

Another little tidbit I did not consider is that kids being sick and in the hospital makes for a good news story. There were a group of reporters and cameras following around the Fire Department and The Claus's, visiting all the kids in their rooms, giving gifts and talking to the parents. 
Reporter: "Ma'am would you be okay with us filming Santa's visit with your son?" 
Me: "ummm, well what are you going to film?" (looking in the mirror at the hot mess that I had become since walking through those hospital doors days ago).
Reporter: "just his time with Santa, enjoying his gift and a few questions from you."
Me: "sorry but no, I don't mean to sound shallow but I am a mess and don't really want to be on camera."
Reporter: "oh don't worry, we won't film you, just ask you a few questions."
me: "uh ok, I guess that will be fine."

Remember when I said I was a softie? Maybe I should have said I'm a cry baby, emotional, hot mess of a mamma. I think that is a much better definition of who I had become since this whole debacle started. The reporter asked me one question, just one, and I was a slobbering, snotty, unshowered, uncoiffed (roots were SOO bad, I needed more than a touch up, I needed a wig), unfashionable, emotional wreck. 
"What makes this Christmas, being in the hospital with your baby, different from holidays celebrated in the past?" 
I poured my dang heart out, talking about my other kids at home, not being involved in the family time, how much I missed cooking and baking and wrapping gifts. How scared we were about what was happening with the baby, about how far he has come in just a few days, how I was just wanting to get things back to normal, and the whole time I'm BAWLING, like can't keep it together, trying to catch my breath, can't understand a damn word I'm saying, tears and snot everywhere, geez what a frickin dork, kind of bawling. 

I should have done a better job of keeping it together, I should have tried harder to be more technical and a LOT less emotional. I should have showered, I should have changed clothes, I should have at least threw on mascara or lip gloss or a hat or something. I should have been braver or stronger or anything else than what I was.  Then, I would have allowed the reporters to keep their word and keep this emotional breakdown off the air, but alas, I wasn't and i was gonna pay for my willy nilly weaknesses. I don't think those folks had any idea the "reporter GOLD" they would get from me. I didn't even think about it until after they left. It would take a miracle for that "display" to not make it on air, especially since three camera men (that were filming from the doorway)  and another reporter came shuffling into the room as soon as my waterworks started flowing. My family and friends still razz me sometimes about my blubbering, train wreck of ridiculousness and an entire list of fashion "Don'ts", but its all good cuz were close like that. I love my friends and family and dammit, we can all agree, if there was EVER a time I'm allowed to "lose it", that was it.  

I'm reliving it and dying from embarrassment all over again, I'll never forget it and I'll never agree to an interview while looking like THAT again. This might sound shallow to some but anyone who primps for things like a teacher conference or doctors or dentists appt or the zoo or anything simple, knows what I'm talking about. I'm not a psycho who can't leave the house without makeup or even someone who wears it often, but lets face it...there is a place and time for EVERYTHING and being on the local news, is definitely a "hair and make-up" moment.  Epic FAIL by me. But then again, I had no idea of how heart wrenching I could be. How was I to know I was so fabulous for news? Geez, just chalk up another "I know you can but I can do better" for me. I really wish these moments were a little more "proud' and lot less "dork". But, I'll take what I can get. I have never before and can't imagine ever again, having a day that was THAT emotional and overflowing with feelings of hope, happiness, sadness, doubt, embarrassment, joy, terror, vanity and self worth. It will be a hard one to top and honestly, I'm not looking forward to it, but I'll take it if it comes, I'm seasoned now.  

But on to more pressing news...the SOLE reason we are here, the miraculous and amazing result of the day, the babies oxygen levels were good, he was holding his own, doing great, cooperating, improving and by 4:00 on Christmas day 2011, he was released from the hospital and we were on our way home. Man oh man. 

Happy birthday and THANK YOU sweet baby jesus.

Pneumonia....

I went straight to the hospital, just like the doctor had told me to, I didn't stop, I took the fastest route I knew, with fewer stoplights but more stop signs, I ran every single one of them (I was hoping a cop would pull me over so I could get an escort to the hospital and not have to stop AT ALL).  I was scared. My mind was racing, continually verging toward "worse case scenario" thoughts.  Not good. But, I prayed for my baby, out loud, so the he could hear me, almost as if I said the words out loud and he heard them and subconsciously "said" the words in his head, then he was praying too. "God hear my prayer, help me, help my body, heal me, save me, watch over me, I have you in my heart, I need you're grace, hear my prayer, heal me, heal me, help me". 

I parked, grabbed the baby, wrapped him in his blanket and headed up to pediatrics. I could take direction and what I was told was, "don't stop". I walked right past the admission desk, the attendant asked me if she could help me, "Going to pediatrics, Dr. already called in, they're expecting us" was all I said as I zipped past her with the baby in my arms, she started to say something like "you need to check in" but I ignored her and was already to the elevator by the time she finished her sentence.

And just as the doctor promised they were ready for us, took us straight to the room, changed him into a gown, took vitals and immediately put him on oxygen. I took a deep breath, I had finally made it to my destination, I did exactly as I was told and now that we were here and he was "safe" I was finally allowed to stop. Thank God, I was so relieved, I felt like I executed my mission, I felt kinda proud of myself, I allowed myself a slight pat on the back "Good job momma, you got him here in record time, you did good". 

It took a little while but his pediatrician finally got there, he came into the room and after all seemed ok with the baby and he was sleeping peacefully, I asked what was going on? "He has pneumonia, his oxygen levels were dangerously low, he is very sick". Yep, that "small bit of pneumonia in his left lung" that was mentioned in the ER just days earlier, was the ravaging beast that was troubling him now...How is this possible? Why did they let him go home on Sunday? How could it go from a small concern to such a monstrous illness? Apparently, pneumonia can do that, be a small concern but turn into a really BIG concern. That was the answer I got and really, it didn't make any sense to "harp" on the subject. To me it didn't really matter, there was nothing I could do about the past, he was here now and getting amazing treatment. But I will tell you that when you let the doctors and nurses and anyone else who is willing to listen, just how disappointed you are in the way you were treated just days earlier, they go OUT OF THEIR WAY to make it up to you. They were great. I almost felt as if I was in a hotel with room service.

We would be in the hospital for 5 days and 4 nights, being released on Christmas day at 4pm. My Hubby and family had to take care of the older two kids and cart them back and forth so they could see us, go to school and enjoy the holiday break. I do not know what I would have done without this support from our families. Being in the hospital several days and nights with only one of your kids is hard enough, but doing it over Christmas...it was a sad time indeed. I only left the hospital on one occasion, Christmas Eve, my daughter's christmas performance at the church. I wasn't even sure I was going to go (to nervous to leave the baby, he was still on oxygen full time, we couldn't get his levels up and he whined and cried every time I left his side) so I wasn't showered or coiffed or decent. But, Hubby convinced me he could handle the baby for an hour or so. Plus, I had a nice long, wool, winter trench coat that I could throw over my "mess", so thats exactly what I did, and headed out the door. 

I watched her whole performance, it was beautiful and I cried, cried, cried. I had kept such a "fake" optimism while I was at the hospital (for the baby and family) but I was at a breaking point and the church was dark and the singing was loud. I let it all out and felt SO MUCH better after. I'm a real softie and I'm horrible at keeping it all in for too long. Plus, all my wonderful friends offering help and support, asking about the baby and "how are YOU doing" was more than my fragile heart could bear. I felt the love and that made the tears flow even heavier, what a loving world I live in. But, the worst part, the part that really got to me the most, the part that about killed me... I had missed out on so much of the "preparation" for my little girls big night, I wasn't there for the primping and pampering. She is such a girly girl, that's her favorite "part" of any performance, the prepping, but their was nothing "frilly" about her that night.  Men don't do that (her daddy did a great job with everything else but fancy schmancy is out of his league). It was an absolute miracle that she had on a matching outfit and adorable red velvet ballet flats. But nothing fancy and I could tell she missed me. As soon as the performance was over, I hugged her, told her how proud I was, took a few pictures, said a word or two to a few friends and left to go back to my little sickie. 

They (nurses, hubby and baby) were all very happy to see me when I got back. As predicted, he cried and whined almost the whole time I was gone, Hubby and the nurses tried to calm him but nothing worked for long. He finally settled down, and fell asleep in my arms, hubby and everyone else left. I was alone with my baby, I started to wonder what the day would be like tomorrow with us not there. I missed the "outside" world. Then I came to my senses, what a wimp I am that I feel like things are so awful for us right now, how selfish of me to think of myself and feel sorry. I mean, think of people that had it worse, that HAVE it worse, whose babies are REALLY REALLY sick, like terminally sick, how DARE I even mutter a complaint. There are some families that have to spend weeks and months away from their families, they miss out on everything, not just one holiday. This wasn't SO bad, it could be MUCH worse. Snap out of it girl, tomorrow is Christmas, you're FAVORITE holiday. Everything will be fine, just fine, stop stressing out, stop worrying about things you can't change...

I need to Thank God for his grace and mercy. I prayed, a really long, heartfelt, woman to higher being, thank you Lord baby Jesus type of prayer and fell into a deep, much needed, almost as if I was at home in my own bed, type of sleep....

"Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya tomorrow, you're only a day away"...

Seizure....

It was a crazy wintery week, not uncommon in this house. Full disclosure: I am NOT an organized mom (which is funny because I was a crazy organized single) so i'm constantly running around trying to find this or that. Most days, nights and weeks are crazy, frustrating, disasters for me but, alas, I manage. The kids decided that they wanted to stay the night at my moms house, they had cousins in town and "halmonis" (korean for grandma) house was much bigger than ours and I guess, more fun? Just a few weeks before Christmas and "colder than a witches tit" (not sure why we say this in our house but we do), we took the baby home and settled in for the night.

Hubbs and I were chilling (thats an understatement...did I mention it was winter in Iowa?). We were freezing our asses off, in the garage, watching TV and smoking our cigarettes. We were starting to get back on the marital track with spending quality time together without fighting, bickering or criticizing. I had the baby monitor on, like every night, and would check it occasionally to make sure the little bug was sleeping and doing ok (this is one of those fancy dancy video monitors where I can SEE the baby too. :) Hubby surprised me with it when we brought the baby home). He had a little bit of congestion and crabbiness (he seemed to always have colds) so I was being overly cautious.

Obviously, there is no bathroom in the garage and I was drinking water like I was dying on the desert (trying to keep my body hydrated because smoking is like putting sand into your bloodstream, not good). I went inside to pee and decided to check on the baby, as I was approaching his bedroom door, I felt "weird" like something was happening. The minute I walked into the room, I could "feel" his fever, hot and intense, his cheeks were burning bright red, his little head was wet with sweat. 

I walked over to him, as I was picking him up he started to seize, full grand mall seizure, like shaking uncontrollably, eyes rolled back into his head, entire body stiff as a board, teeth and fists tightly clenched, breathing quick, short puffs and saliva bubbles rapidly forming on sides of his mouth, his lips turning BLUE, kind of seizure. I yelled for Hubbs and he came running upstairs, he saw the fear in my eyes and saw the baby seizing. I only remember screaming, through tears and sobs "what is happening? help me, help me." In a panicked, terrified voice he said "Call 911" and took the baby from me. As I was on the phone, Hubbs was trying desperately to "save" the baby. Trying to talk to him, trying to hold him, trying anything to get the shaking to stop. But he kept shaking, he wouldn't stop, he wouldn't STOP, his lips were getting bluer, the saliva was fully oozing out of his mouth in streams of bubbles, dripping down his cheeks, neck, soaking the sheets below him.  Shaking, shaking, shaking, uncontrollably, not stopping, not slowing down. I start to quietly pray, under my breath, "God save him, help him, please don't die, please don't die, please breathe, please stop, God please make him stop, God PLEASE HELP HIM!". 

The 911 operator was calm and instructive. "Lay the baby down on his side, make sure he is somewhere safe where he can't fall or cut or scratch himself, don't try to hold him, don't try to administer CPR, he's breathing so don't worry, the seizure just needs to work its way through, just let me know as soon as he stops."  It felt like days, I was praying over and over in my head, begging, pleading for him to stop, tears streaming down my face, and just when I thought his poor little body couldn't take much more, after seven LONG, TERRIFYING minutes of violent shaking and tension, he stops seizing, his body goes limp, his lips and cheeks immediately red and he begins to whimper. I was still on the phone with the operator when the seizure stopped. As luck would have it the paramedics were seconds away, almost in my driveway. I thanked the operator and handed the phone to hubby, grabbed the baby and headed downstairs.

As soon as we got downstairs the paramedics were at the the front door, Hubbs let them in and we all went to the family room. They took the baby from me and he started to cry, a wailing cry, that was heartbreaking and loud. He cried  for what seemed like an eternity. It was difficult to have a conversation with the paramedics over his wails but they remained calm and assured me that this was perfectly normal. Then the paramedics started asking questions. "Does he have a fever?", "do I know how long the seizure was?", "Was this the first time?", "did any of my other kids have seizures?", "does he have any allergies?", "who is his pediatrician?", "what hospital do we want to go to?", "who wants to ride in the ambulance with the baby?", "does he have a favorite toy or blanket that he can take with him?", "are we ready to go?".

We decided that I would ride with the baby and Hubbs would follow and call all our family to let them know what happened. It was 10PM on a saturday night, it seemed like the ambulance ride took longer than usual, I was watching my baby, cry, struggle and fight the oxygen mask that they administered on the ride in, he was not a happy camper. My husband, mother, both parent in-laws and sister-in-law were on their way in to meet us at the hospital.

When a person has a seizure and goes to the emergency room the first thing they HAVE to do is administer an IV line, in case of another seizure, they have a safe method to administer medication. If anyone is curious as to whether or not 15 month old babies like a team of nurses hovering over them trying SEVERAL times to put an IV line (needle) into their tiny arm or hand or foot, I can assure you they do not like it. I would even go further and say they HATE it. My baby was miserable, they finally found a few nurses from pediatrics that thought they could get it done and they did, on the fourth try. My baby was tired, pricked and prodded, sick and thirsty, we kept asking for something to drink and kept getting the "as soon as the doctor comes in you can ask him". So, add insult to injury, "sorry son, I know its really scary and you're tired, thirsty and sore (from not only his fever but the insane seizure that accompanied it), but you cannot have anything to drink either. Aren't hospitals fun?"

They ran some tests and found no infections or additional concerns, possibly a "tiny bit of pneumonia in his left lung but, we will give him a REALLY powerful IV administered antibiotic now and a prescription for some follow up antibiotic too." It was JUST a febrile seizure, more common than you think, and he should be ok to go home but make sure I make a follow up appt. with his pediatrician". We went home early Sunday morning and took him to his doctor at 11:00am on Monday. The doctor explained the whole febrile seizure spiel; "sometimes the body reacts to an abrupt, intense fever with a seizure to help cool the body down. It's not necessarily the height (ambulance fever temp was 101, hospital fever temp was 102) of the fever that triggers it, it's the time or rate in which he goes from no fever to fever". Apparently, his body was like a really fast car, with a super charged engine, his body went from no fever to fever so fast, he was like a car going 0 to 60 in like 2 seconds. We would just have to keep an eye on him because if he gets a fever, he could have another seizure.  Some kids only have one, some have several, its really just a crap shoot. Take him home and get some rest, he should feel better in no time.

He never really came "out of it". This kid is your typical, high energy toddler, always running everywhere, intense, good eater and a riot to have around, so much fun. But, not this week. He was lethargic and cuddly, very little energy, didn't even want to walk and no desire to eat. I was concerned by his lack of interest and energy but figured this was just a result of the seizure, I mean that HAS to take some kind of toll on your body, I don't care how much the doctors say it doesn't and "I don't need to worry about it", I was worried. Two days after his doctor appt., it was a Wednesday, he was completely zonked, no energy what so ever. I made another appt, with the pediatrician and was told I could come in at 5:30pm.

By the time we got there he was even worse (if that's possible) after hearing "what's wrong" the nurse checked his oxygen levels, they were low, like in the 89's low, she immediately got the doctor and he checked him again, still very low...Exact words from the pediatrician; "Can you go to the hospital from here or should I call an ambulance? If you can't go straight to the hospital from here, I WILL call an ambulance. You cannot go home, you cannot stop anywhere. I will call them and let them know you're coming. Leave now...don't stop, are you sure you can go straight there? You CAN NOT stop. I will see you there later."

By 6:00 I was enroute to the hospital....

How much is to much....

Hubby's new job was going well but there was still something missing, financial security.  This is sales, a commission only job, if it was a good month our check was astronomical, if it was a slow month it was barely enough for our car payment. Up and down this financial roller coaster, up and down this emotional roller coaster. Up and down, up and down, that's basically how I felt everyday. Happy one minute, stressed beyond my limits one minute, and then sad or mad or happy or glad...never stable just existing.

We needed many more good months and a lot less bad months but we finally paid off our debt.  We got rid of the credit cards and we get a new house, just in time for another surprise, we were expecting our second child, my first son.

So number 2 comes along, we have a brand new 4 BR, 4 bath, 3 car garage, 1/2 acre lot, house. Things were looking good. We were not completely worry free, those bad months of small checks were hard to get caught up on. It's a vicious cycle, when you have a few months of missed or late payments, it takes triple that to get caught up, every payment just snowballs until that one big payment when you can get it all current. But we were making it.

During this time hubb's awesome manager gets replaced by sleaze bag manager number 1 (sleaze bag manager number 2 comes along a few months later). Quotas are difficult and hubbs is working like a MAD MAN, days, nights, weekends. He was proving himself as one of the best salesmen in the company, and is VERY competitive so he was driven not only by his new family, but also by the other agents.  "Daddy doesn't like to lose." Oddly enough, no matter how great his numbers were or how far ahead he was , he continually got overlooked for bonus's.  Hmmm, what's going on?  Everyone (I'm talking corporate "brass" to fellow agents and even his own mgrs.) are telling me, ANY CHANCE THEY GET, what a fierce salesman my hubbs is, he qualifies for all the incentive trips, but nothing "extra", nothing to help move this growing beast in the right direction. However, other agents were getting bonus's left and right. They are not good at their jobs, they are not qualifying for the trips, they are not growing business, they are not meeting deadlines and quotas, yet they get the bonus. How is this possible, why are the weak links getting the rewards? What do they they have that hubbs doesn't have? Boobs. PERFECT.

Hubbs decides to give dipshit manager number 2 one more chance to show "some love", he has a heart to heart with him and asks what he needs to do to get some help from him. Dipshit number 2's answer? He needs to hire an employee. WHAT?!?! We can't afford that, but we have no choice, this is the only way dipshit 2 will give a book to him. We find a girl that seems like a perfect fit, eager to leave her job and start a new career. This was a HUGE mistake. The amount of money it takes to hire an employee is staggering and unfortunately, she proved that she was worthless. We paid her medical insurance even when we couldn't pay our own, we paid her taxes even when we couldn't pay our own and after a year and a half of suffering, Hubbs finally lets her go when he finds out we have been paying her to design the MOST intricate and amazing farm in farmville. And she was more than current with her posts on FB. She sucked us dry and gave us little in return (she was helpful in answering the phones and filing but we paid her MUCH more than that because she was to help build the books/sales).  Epic FAIL.  Thanks dipshit manager 2 any other brilliant ideas, dumbass?

Freshly "burned" by sap sucker employee and being passed up so many times by dipshit managers starts an avalanche of resentment and anger which builds and eats away at hubbs like a flesh eating bacteria. He starts to brew and boil, he is consumed by it and finally he blows up. He HATES his job, his fellow agents, his manager and well, just about everything else. Happiness, contentment and peace cannot find their way to him, he is suffering and falling, falling, falling into a deep, dark, ugly hole. Something needs to happen or its going to kill him.

We talk about me getting a job too, just for a bit, maybe even part time, just something to help with the finances so hubbs doesn't have to work so much. Just when I think I have him on board, we find out that we are pregnant again. We are ecstatic! We had actually been trying for this one, my daughter and I were hoping for a baby girl. I grew up with sisters and there is no better friend in the world. Number 3 comes along, a healthy baby BOY...no baby girl, no little sister. C-section number 3 at 39 yrs old? I think the baby train might "have left this station".  He will be our last.

We adjust to the new little bundle and things are pretty awesome, something starts to change in me, I start to feel stable, I start to accept my role as stay-at-home mom. We have been volunteering for everything from girl scout troop leaders to sports coaches. We are involved with the schools and community, we are actively supportive parents, we're making friends and Mike finally reaches his goal of Agent of the year (for the ENTIRE company). Things are looking up, yay! 

At 15 months old, my baby, my angel, my darling little boy, has his first seizure...

And So It Continues...

Hubby's new job was commission only and we were not getting paid what Hubbs estimated for every sale. He was not new to this industry, he had been doing it for 5 years until 9/11 shut his branch down, so he had a very good idea of what were were to be paid.  As a matter of fact, we were not getting paid AT ALL.  One month, two months, three months passed and still no check. His manager kept giving us the "oh, corporate is getting it all figured out" OR "their was some confusion with your commission, but i heard from my boss and you'll have your check next month"...blah blah blah.  All the while our bills were stacking up. (side note: Hubbs and I agreed that I would be a stay-at-home mom, no matter how tough times were, we would have to make it work and I had already quit my job). We have NO INSURANCE because of the job change.  And to add insult to injury, my first-born was a franklin breech so emergency c-section was the only option (we didn't find this out until we had a stress test and ultrasound, she was 2 weeks overdue). Just like that, from routine pregnancy to emergency c-section, this is not a cheap procedure folks, more dollar signs racking up.

My marriage and family had just begun but, this was not a happy, fun time.  We were broke, paying for groceries, bills and baby stuff with the only two credit cards I had (Hubbs had no CC's) and borrowing money left and right.  I had never even "touched" the maximum credit line of my cards before and now we were not only at the maximum but we were going over too (let us not forget that when you go over your limit, you start to accure charges EVERY MONTH, thats right, more frickin' money out the window).  So, needless to say, we were stressed out beyond comprehension, arguing and fighting like cats and dogs.  Like horrible, mean, ugly fights. Full of blame, resentment, hate, frustration and "school yard" name calling. And in the middle of it all?  A beautiful bright, blue eyed, beauty. She was such a good baby, never cried, complained or stressed me out. She was easy. So easy in fact that I asked the doc at one of her "well baby" check ups if something could be wrong with her.  He assured me she was fine, I was just lucky.  Yeah, sure lucky. Thats what I was thinking...NOT! 

I've always felt my daughter was an "old soul" and I'm thinking that God blessed me with this beautiful, sweet, loving, understanding little girl because everything else in my life was overwhelmingly hard. I didn't deserve her or God's grace, I was not appreciative, I "checked out". I blamed my inability to "bond" with her on the fact that she was "nothing like me", she looked like my Hubbs and his Irish side of the family, blue eyes, pink skin, nothing like me and my olive skin, dark hair and eyes, not even a hint of "korean" (my heritage that I'm PROUDEST of)..what a pathetic excuse of a human being I am, what a pathetic excuse of a mom I am (Give me a sec, the water works are flowing). I remember always having her around, never going anywhere without her and doing all the mom stuff you're supposed to do. I would read to her and play with her but I can't remember if I was nice, or loving or sweet or motherly or not.  I can't really remember much of my time with just her around.  How sad is that? I'm in tears AGAIN as I write this, how could I not remember?  How? Maybe someday I can somehow reach deep into my mind and find and record all my recollections of her babyhood, as for right now, I'll just have to stumble through the limited memories I have.  I did do a baby book for her so I have at least some idea of her milestones. Hindsight is 20/20 and I'm sure I was suffering from depression for many years, starting with my first child and continuing on until I had my third. 

We finally got our first check, 3 months after Hubbs started his new job. But, it was a personal check from his manager "I'm sorry, I don't know what is going on with corporate, they screwed up your check again so I figured I could help out a bit, here's $900". WHAT?!?!  3 months no money, bills adding up, new baby and $900 was all we got?  What a joke, this is not gonna work out. I had been borrowing money from my folks, he was borrowing from his folks, this wouldn't even cover paying back one of them. After some sleuth work from Hubbs, who was finally suspicious after the "personal check", he finds out that his manager had changed all of Mike's applications to his name and this man was reaping our rewards, this man is a thief but "just built a $900K house, he had much BIGGER bills to pay, and it was just for the first few months to get him out of his hole." Are you fucking kidding me?  Hubbs had been confiding to this man about our financial turmoil the whole friggin' 3 months and this asshole just sat there and ball faced lied to him. I'll tell you what, Hubbs was ready to find this man and beat the living crap out of him, but I convinced him jail time was the LAST thing we needed and talked him out of it. That man will never know the ass kicking I saved him from, what a loser, he'll get his, karma is a bitch. But, this man is shit, this job is shit, Hubbs needs a new one.

And just like that, a ray of light, his old manager from an old job found Hubbs (he actually tracked him down and found him somehow, came knocking on our front door one day).  This man was on a mission, he was a manager for a new company and "needed" Hubbs on his team. Would he be interested in a new job? Starting salary is six figures and he can start right away. And after hearing our "woe ist me" story of the past 3 months, helps us find the dipshit former manager and tries to help us get our money back. No way, the company has too many corporate lawyers and possibility of getting anything from the old manager?  Fat chance, "he filed for bankruptcy and lost his job", we would accrue to many legal fees and there's no guarantee that we will get anything from him.  Time to cut our loses and accept that karma had in fact found him.  Boo yah baby, don't mess with us, we have the good guys on our side. The difference in the old manager and the new manager is most evident in the following action; "here is $5K as good faith money, you dont' need anything else to worry about, I know its not much but maybe it will help to get you guys back on your feet and give you some breathing room until you get your first check." 

Wow, God comes through again, Thank you JESUS!!!

How it all started...

It was about 3 weeks after the horrific terrorist attack on Sept. 11, 2001.  I had been struggling with ending my 3 year relationship with my Jewish boyfriend (I am not jewish and the reason I point this out is: this is one of the main reasons we broke up, we couldn't agree on what religion we were to raise our future kids) was thinking of a career change (I was an independent production manager and coordinator in film and animation, things got REAL slow after 9/11) and was feeling my biological clock ticking (not ticking but GONGING) away.  I decided to move back "home" (I’m not a native but I feel at home here because outside of Germany, this is the longest my family has lived in one place) to Iowa so I could be closer to my family, I missed them and the 9/11 attack was a frickin' eye opener for me.  I was living and loving the "single life" but still felt something missing.  

Now, my mom is Korean (dad is caucasian) and in "old school" Korea (i say "old school" because my mom has not been back to korea since about 1976 so everything she taught us came from her upbringing in the "good ole days"...Thank GOD!), things were very different than they are today.  I mean all the stereotypes of subservient asian women to the domineering asshole men, emphasis on kids extracurricular activities, respecting elders, superstitions, being a good citizen and the BEST overall person, was the basis of what she learned growing up and in turn, passed on to us.

So, koreans are nuts about many things and marrying off their daughters is one of them.   My mom was "sick and tired of all the moving around I was doing, and I was never going to meet anyone and start a family if I didn't get my act together.  Oh and by the way, you're not moving out of this house again, until you're married." Now, for some of you it might seem weird that a 30 year old woman would just "give in" and go along with this. But, you don't know my mom, there are just some things that go without any further discussion, this was one of them. My mom has a TON of korean friends and these friends have kids.  One of those kids was BFF’s with my baby sister. Once she heard I moved back, and wasn't married yet, she made it her mission to find me a "good husband" and insisted I meet this "perfect" guy for me. “Tall (very important, I'm 5'10"), sweet, gracious, generous, funny and a TON OF FUN”.  Come to find out this woman was on a mission, even though I showed ZERO interest or enthusiasm for this person, she made sure to tell him all the wonderful things she thought of me (the list must have been extensive, but he was NOT interested. he was having to much fun partying with his friends).  She finally broke us both down (korean women, now matter how small, are (amongst a trillion other things) extremely determined and persistent, in other words, they don't take "no" for an answer).

So, at 32 years old, I find my “twue wuv”. We meet, fall in love and spend all our free time together.  By the first six months of our relationship, we are married and expecting our first child.  I quit my job and hubby started a new one, things were looking hopeful.  

It all goes downhill from here....

FOMO

FOMO = Fear Of Missing Out.

My baby sister "made up" this acronym years ago, to describe her kids inability to miss out on anything.  Even if they have NO INTEREST in the subject or activity at hand, they participate.  JUST in case something wonderfully awesome happens, they wouldn't want to miss out.  We have adopted this acronym as an everyday word and use it constantly.  We (my siblings and ALL our kids) suffer from FOMO on a daily basis.

So, naturally when I started to see all these bloggers EVERYWHERE, I started to look into it a little bit.  Here are normal people (non-writers, professionals and even stay-at-home moms, hot-diggity-damn!) being "heard" and "followed" everyday.  AND there is a glimmer of a chance, that I might be able to make some money someday too?!  BONUS! We are a one income family after-all, who couldn't use a little extra jack?? Boo yah baby...sign.me.up...FOMO.

I want to write, have people listen, critique, advise and get moved by my words, life lessons and mistakes. I too want a life of being a stay-at-home mom and being able to bring a little extra something to the table (because being a stay-at-home-mom is not enough?  Oh gawd, society must be getting to me).  I"m not perfect, in fact I'm quite the opposite and in my eyes even worse, somewhat of a failure. But, I find myself shifting, changing and finding my voice again.  What happened?  Kids. Three of them to be exact.  I had my first child at 32, second child at 34 and third child at 39.  You would think that being an "old mom", i would appreciate, acknowledge and respect the challenges that are presented when you have kids.  I mean I've whooped it up, lived a full, fun, rewarding life, I'm OLD, I've been around a block or two.  I always thought of myself as a caring, patient, understanding, loving person. I love my nieces and nephews like they were my own and if I can do that? I must be ready for some kids of my own....FOMO. But, unfortunately, things aren't always picture perfect. Even if you think you're ready, God has his own plans.

I'm on my way to figuring it all out.  I've made lots of mistakes but I am taking charge and admitting there is much work to be done.  I'm sure I'll get to meet some fun people and not so fun people along the way.  But, regardless if anyone listens, agrees, disagrees, loves or hates me.  I am doing this for me, and my family, right now, today, no more procrastination and denial.  I am excited and scared all at the same time, I’m taking the first step to joining thousands of other people from all walks of life, I want in on the action, I wanna be on of the “cool kids” I WANT TO BE A BLOGGER TOO.....FOMO!