It’s 5:30 in the morning. Normally I would be asleep in
my bed savoring the last few hours of sleep.  But I have been up since 2 am worrying,
  thinking, praying and trying to be incredibly aware of the pain level in my
abdomen. And repeating the only 3
lines of a song that I know that is stuck in my head.  And
starving.


I will explain.


Saturday, I 
started getting some abdomen pain that I brushed off to being another
ovarian cyst that was going to burst at its will. I popped Advil 800’s like pez
and went about the long list of things that I needed to do. Sunday the pain
seemed to subside until about eight at night. And then it came on strong and
fast. My pain level went from a 0 to a 10 in a matter of 5 minutes.  I
laid on my couch and clenched my teeth and fists and tried not to move at all,
hoping that the Advil 800 would kick in at any moment. It started of as a
stabbing pain in my lower left side and then radiated into my back and  started spreading into my entire
abdomen then started making my legs go numb.  The pain was constant. About 20 minutes
into and I started getting  adrenaline shivers, something that I am
privy to when I am in labor (my pain level is so intense that my body surges
with adrenaline and it gives me uncontrollable shivers, kind of like mini
seizures) this is when I knew that this was not a normal cyst, but something
different and getting more serious by the second. I called up to Kevin, who was
trying his best to wrangle our 3 kids into bed and told him that I think I
should go the  emergency room. He
made what seemed like a hundred phone calls to see if someone could come sit
with our kids so we would not have to have them in the ER with us getting what
ever fun illnesses are floating around in those halls. Finally we got a hold of
my sister in law and we left the kids all together in my bed watching Olivia
while she came down from Mapelton  and we left for the
ER.


About 2/3 of the way there, the Advil finally kicked in and I had
a tiny bit of relief. Then I started to rethink what I knew would be a thousand
dollar bill, for something that they would likely say was yet another cyst. We
checked in, all the while rethinking and then decided to call our former bishop
and friend who was a trusty gut doctor of sorts to get a quick opinion about
whether we should stay or go. Explained what had happened, answered some
questions and he told us that I am probably fine to leave and see my regular
doctor the next day. So we signed an AMA form and headed back home.



The next morning was the boys first day of school. We were all up
at 7 and spirits were high and excitement was in the air. The pain in my abdomen
was still present but only at about a 3. I started my morning off with yet
another Advil 800. Got the boys off to school and then made my appointment to
see what this gut issue was.


Doctors office with Kenaley, just after she woke up
from her nap and me still having this slightly present gut pain was a challenge.
I explain that all my symptoms and the events of the night before, and my doctor
looks at me with a pretty serious look and says “are you pregnant?” and I say
no, I had my cycle about 2 weeks ago and had them run a pregnancy test a few
days before I started it since I was 6 weeks late before that one, and I am on
the pill.  He tells me to go get
another one, something that I think is a waste of time but I do it anyway. Then
I sit alone in the room with Kenaley trying just about anything that I can to
keep her entertained. He walks in and tells me that I am in fact pregnant. The
first thing that comes out of my dropped jaw is: Kevin is going to flip out.
Then things start to dawn on me…


I have been pregnant 3 times. Never have I felt like
this before, and never have I found out this early in the game that there was
life in my belly.  And then my
doctor starts in on what this means. I am still in the shocked phase and
everything that he is telling me is kid of a blur. I get a blood test, schedule
an ultrasound for that day. He tells me no ore Advil and pay very close
attention to your pain level.  Then
things become more clear. There wasn’t any excitement or a congratulatory tone
to the seriousness that he was telling me, something was not right with this.



I call Kevin who gets the blow that I am pregnant and then the
bigger blow that something is wrong, pick up the kids at a friends house where
they walked to after school, and head home to do first day of school paper work
and pass out snacks. I have 2 hours until I go get the ultrasound. I get on the
phone with my BFF, the person who I call for everything, who would talk me off a
cliff, help me hide the body, knows my every secret in life, and I tell her
everything. We sit and think of any possible outcome to this problem that could
be and decide to confer again after the ultra sound.


The time  finally
comes and I rally the kids together and drop them off again to my friends house,
and then Kevin and I take what seems to be the 2 hour long drive to Provo to get
  the ultra sound. We arrive and get to pass up all the other patients in the
 waiting room and get taken back to
a room. The tech asks me few questions and then starts the ultrasound. She
doesn’t say anything. Goes about her work, taking a bunch of pictures of grey
and black blurbs on the screen without any conversation at all. This was not
like any ultrasound I have ever had. She finally explains that normally we would
see a dark circle with a lighter circle in it, but all I have is the dark
circle. Says that it might be a cyct, but with a positive pregnancy test, it
raises suspicions.  Then she tries
to reassure me that it is probably just too early to see anything, but
everything in me is telling me that all these things are pointing to not good
answers.  She gets done and tells
me that she is going to call the radiologist and my doctor and asks me if I can
wait for a few minutes.  I had
never been asked to wait, always told that I would get the results at a later
date, but we do.  We over hear bits
of conversations that the technician is having with each of them, she asks me if
I had gotten an HCG level test, I tell her yes but I don’t get the results until
tomorrow.  She asks us to wait
longer. Five minutes turns into 45 and she finally tells me that one of the
doctor’s from my doctors office would like to talk to me on the phone. Never
happened before.  


She explains that what they are seeing on the ultrasound looks
very suspicious of an ectopic pregnancy. What can confirm it is the test that I
get the results of in the morning. She tries to explain the severity of the
diagnosis, but I am in a cloud and still in shock about the whole thing. She
  tells me that my doctor will be calling me tonight to further explain what to
  do, but tells me that I am not to eat or drink anything from that point on, in
case I need to go have surgery tonight. We finally leave the office and head
back to get the kids at my friends house. I don’t think I have ever felt so numb
in my life. The emotional ups and downs of the day just completely numbs
me.


My doctor calls while we are driving and first off asks
me what my pain level is. I tell him about a 3 and he continues to ask a bunch
of questions about it. He then gives me my action plan: 
no eating or drinking, no pain killers,  if the pain gets above a 5 go right to
the ER and I will have to have emergent surgery to get the bubble out of my
ovary, if the pain stays at the level it is then I will wait until the morning
when we get the results of the HCG test which will tell us how pregnant I am. I
ask why it is even relevant if it is ectopic and he tells me that because that
bubble is still in my ovary it could be a viable pregnancy but early enough that
it has not traveled to the uterus, but it also could be an ectopic pregnancy
that is further along than we thought. The test will tell us the bubbles age and
  will give us a better picture of what happens next.


So all night, I have been very aware of my pain level,
  rating if it has gotten worse or better since the last hour, hoping and praying
  that the little bubble is very young and will move into the place it needs to
  be and grow into what it should, trying to make a game plan for the what ifs
  and making a check list in my head of all the things I should be doing  instead of sleeping, 
trying not to let the surge of emotions surface, and starving.



Its 7 am now, I need to get the boys up and get them ready for
school.


Couple more hours until I know.

I know, it has been far too long since we
spoke. I lost my blog mojo for a little bit. This post may explain
why.


THE NAUGHTY THINGS MY CHILDREN HAVE DONE:
(this week)


Anderson: King  of
“if I have been bad, it is written all over my face.” He usually sports this
grin multiple times through out the day. 
So, Sunday he ate a Lunchable for lunch because I was too exhausted from
the primary marathon that I run weekly to make them food and they were convinced that if they did not get
sustenance they would surely die. Starve and die. Inside this treasure of a
Lunchable  was a mini water bottle
and  Kool-aid pack that when poured
into the bottle makes what Anderson says is the best drink ever. He loves these
drinks and only picks out the Lunchables that have them. 
The younglings eat their lunch and then I start the war that is getting
Kenaley to take a nap. Anderson takes his water bottle into the bathroom, I
assume to refill it with water and keep as his companion for the day. I get
distracted by the hitting and kicking and screaming that is in my lap and don’t
notice the extended period of time that it is taking the boy to refill the
bottle. He comes out just after I have laid the sleeping monster in her bed and,
hands behind his back, tells me- with the“I have been bad” face on that he is
bleeding. I ask where, and he shows me bright red hands that have a tropical
fruit scent to them. My brain instantly realizes that he tried to recreate the
drink that was in his Lunchable and took an unsweetened envelope of Kool-aid,
tried to dump it in his water bottle, spilled it all over and then tried to wipe
it up with his bare hands. I inform the very guilty looking 6 year old that , no
he is not bleeding and if I walk into the bathroom and see kool-aid all over it
when I just cleaned it, he is going to be a very sad and grounded boy. I ask him
“Do you want me to go look in the bathroom right now?”  
And he says no and walks back into the bathroom to try to undo his mess.
I wait a good, long while before I go look and discover the catastrophe that
Kool-aid can do. I have marble counter tops in my bathroom, they are a swirly
white color. Sorry, I had white counter tops. They are now bright red, tropical
fruit smelling, but bright red. I scrubbed with bleach and all that that
happened was that the fruit smell turned to a bleachy-fruit smell. BUT THEN…. I
opened the toilet lid and discovered that the dude had decided to wipe what mess
he thought he could with toilet paper and dump it into the toilet. The mess that
  he wiped up also contained the wrapper from the Kool-aid. My toilet was bright
  red…and fruity smelling, which was kind of nice compared to the usual smell. I
  grunted in that special mom grunt that says it all and got the toilet bowl
  cleaner and brush and began scrubbing. Nothing was coming off. I was now the
owner of a bright red bathroom counter and a bright red toilet bowl. They both
  smelled like bleachy fruit.  (Side
note: since the incident the color has faded and is now a calmer pinkish white.
And the smell is gone.) 



Logan: This boy has decided that he is not
9, but 19. Boy. Has.  ‘Tude. And
lots of it. Enough that I  am
seriously considering to change my mind about  the cruelties of boarding school and am
looking into which one fits him best. His ‘tude does seem to have some humor,
which so far has saved his little but from being horribly bruised. 
It goes like this: “Logan” I call to him. His answer is “No. No I will
not do that. Whatever it is I
won’t”  So, me, being the witty mom
that I am answer back, “Oh, too bad I was going to give you your allowance. Oh
well I will keep it and spend it on chocolate that I plan on not sharing.” And
then I get the: “No, I was just kidding! I will do it!”  And
then I say “Good, because I need you to take this diaper to the garbage.” And
then there is the 9 year old grunt that says it all. So there is that  part of the ‘tude. And then there is
the part that he has decided that his brother and mother are bottom feeders and
he will tease, torment and copy us all day long. Everyday of the week. It is the
most annoying part of the 9/19 year old. I cannot stand copying. So I say
something like. “I made out with daddy last night!” and he starts to say it then
quickly laughs and covers his mouth and learns his lesson. I told you I was
witty. The boy is just too cool for
his own shoes. He told me that the other
  day.


MISS KENALEY: Oh, baby girl. We really
should have named you David. Because there is a book series about the naughty
things that David does that is so similar to the naughty things that you do. Let
me start with Monday: Monday she was caught washing her play dishes in the
toilet (that was still red at this point) I grabbed her and scrubbed her little
hands with every drop of soap that I owned and I threw the dishes in the
garbage, while she screamed at me the entire time“Its my turn!!!” then a few
hours later I caught her doing it again. Tuesday: She decided that she was going
to graduate from her kitchen to my kitchen and I caught her taking out my
Tupperware containers one by one and putting dog food in each and every one of
them. I own about 50 containers. We did an entire wash load of them that day.
Wednesday: This one is good. Brothers were supposed to be watching her outside
while I watered and weeded the garden. I would periodically ask where she was to
the little boys and they would yell back the answer. On this particular occasion
I yelled and there was no answer for a moment, then there was “MOM!!! We need
help!!” I went running in their direction and found my baby daughter in the
chicken coop picking up every piece of chicken dropping and putting it into the
garbage next to the coop. I have to give her a gold star for taking initiative
and cleaning up after the Bob’s but picking it up by hand was a little too much
for me. Her hands were again scrubbed with all the soap that I had purchased to
replace the toilet incident scrubbing. Thursday: I may have mentioned that
Kenaley has a thing for showers and she demands that she enter every shower that
is run in the house no matter what time, who is in there or how many she has
taken that day. Well, apparently she was feeling that she had not met her clean
quota for the day and she got Anderson’s juice cup of the table, filled it with
the water from the dog’s bowl and carried it into the bathroom and dumped it
into the tub. She did it a few times and then got into the bathtub fully clothed
and played in her remnants of water, she hasn’t figured out the drain thing yet.
Luckily.  It wasn’t until she
started screaming “I stuck” that we found her in the bath, wet and smelling like
dog water. Then we saw the cup and the trail of spilled water and figured the
whole thing out.   She
got to take a shower for this one. Friday: I was on my game this day. I had
trailed that girl so good and we had made it to about 6 pm this day with no
naughties from the wee one. Then I told daddy to watch her while I made dinner.
Mistake #1. He played with her for a few minutes and then let her loose. Somehow
she got a hold of a blue sharpie marker and decided that the fridge and the wall
next to the fridge needed a splash of color. So she took it upon herself to
color all over them. I turned around from cooking to see the artist and her
masterpiece. I yell “NO KENA!” and she says: “look, its pretty!” 
FYI: magic eraser doesn’t work as well as it says it does. The
combination of soft scrub and magic eraser does the trick to get sharpie marker
off fridges and walls.


SEE! See, this is what I have to do
everyday. This is why I have no blog mojo. Would you have blog mojo?? Would you
have mojo at all?

That’s
what I thought