Mother Of Pearl

I seem to be having more bad days than good lately. I didn't want my blog to be a downer sad blog in which all I do is complain about my terrible doctors and poor health, but at this point I'm just discouraged and feeling like a downer, if we're being honest.

It's like everyday is just more bad news. Sometimes the bad news turns out to be my doctors over-reacting, and other times (most times) it's real bad news. And it's really discouraging. Angering. Saddening.

All of these feelings are not healthy, but all of these feelings are valid... I struggle with this daily. As a Christian, I want to have the ability to lean on God and let myself be comforted in the strength of His power, but in my flesh I struggle with negative feelings that are of this world. Stress, anxiety, feelings of helplessness, lost hope, bitterness, hatred, feelings of "Why me?" Among many other things.

It is so much easier to curl up in bed and cry about your life, and the shit storm it feels like its turning into, give into all the negative feelings. Cry out to the heavens, "WHY ME?" Hell, I do it all the damn time. I get little blessings throughout the day, or week, and maybe I just need to be better at focusing on them instead of the negatives.

 I don't know.

I don't know anything anymore.

I feel like I've got it somewhat figured out, then the hits just keep on coming. I said to my husband tonight, "What a week, huh?" and then he proceeded to inform me that it was, in fact only Tuesday.

Mother of pearl, let's coma this out until Friday, yes? Who's with me?! I do NOT want to deal with the rest of this week unless all it has in store for me is visits from people who I love, boxes of chocolates, and LOTS of takeout food.

On a lighter note, I should probably wait until I have people who are actually reading my blog, but you know... I'm impatient.

After you use the lavatory, do you wipe while sitting, or wipe while standing? I do it one way, and my husband does another. As do the rest of his siblings, same as him. (At least the ones I've actually ASKED.) It's kind of a private, personal question, I guess.

But anyway, I'm intrigued to say the least, to find out just how many people do it differently. I honestly was so shocked to find out anybody did it differently than I did! It had never crossed my mind.

Leave me a comment, or whatever else you can do on this here bloggy blog.

Peace, Mego out.

Today I had a doctor appointment. Tomorrow I have a doctor appointment. April 4th I have a doctor appointment. And also on the 5th, 6th, 8th, and 11th.

I'm weary today. I'm angry today, and once again, I'm tired.

Last week I went to see my primary physician for a previously scheduled appointment, regarding my asthma. I had mentioned to him, (after he asked me) that I wasn't feeling too well. I've had a headache, a very painful sore throat, my nose is stuffy and runny, and I started having very painful pressure in my ears, and I can't hear out of my left one.

 I have 2 chronic illnesses that make me more susceptible to infections and disease, so immediately my mind went to ear infection. Great!

Anyway, after being asked by my primary if I was feeling well, I proceeded to tell him all this, and I said, "I figured I was getting a cold or something, but I knew we had this appointment, so I waited to see you to tell you about it."

So the jackass says "Well you're probably getting a cold or something..." and then he changed the subject. What kind of doctor acts like that? Is that normal? since then I've only gotten worse and I'm in more pain, but I don't want to call him up because he's an asshat, and I dislike him immensely. I guess I'll just tough it out like I do with every other single thing in my life.

Being pregnant has made me stronger. I've experienced more pain in the last 7 months, consistently, than I have  (on a daily basis, anyway) ever before, and only been able to take Tylenol to help.
Well, taking Tylenol every day kind of stops helping after the first few weeks.

And still I chug along.

I am 29.8 weeks pregnant today. Wednesday I will be 30 weeks. 10 more to go. well, 9 really, as of now. Because of my illnesses my doctors are scheduling me to go at 39 weeks. Either I'll be induced, or I will need a cesarean. My doctors think I'll need to go sooner than that, but it depends on whether or not Maggie's organs get too big near the end of the pregnancy. Tomorrow I have an echo-cardiogram to find out if her heart lining is getting too thick.

This kiddo must be strong as nails, to endure all of her mommy's stresses that comes from all these tests I have to have done. I can't wait to be through, and hold her finally.

I'm watching Doctor Who. The episode with Rose and Eccleston and the mannequins. Freaky, yo.

My Easter was pretty good. Despite feeling ill, I enjoyed The company I was with. My grandmother's house had 2 of my aunts and uncles, and their families. Cousins too, obviously. They all tried their best to make sure I was comfortable. Which I was not, but not because of their lack of trying! Because I am simply 30 weeks pregnant and I've decided that it is impossible to be comfortable long, if ever.

I missed my other aunts and cousins, but I hope they enjoyed their Easters. I'll see them soon enough I guess.

Maybe I'll go to bed after I post this. I'm just ready for the day to be over. I'll set up in bed with some snackage and some Monk on my laptop, and chill. Or sleep. Probably sleep.

This post probably sucks a little bit of ass, but I just feel extremely unmotivated, and my life is just not that interesting. I get all my thrills from hubsand and his crazy stories from work. He's an electrician and works in the shittiest places. Some nicer areas, but mostly shit-villes. He's in Newark a lot. Comes home with stories about thugs beating his truck windows at stoplights trying to get him to buy their grape fruitsnacks... I don't know. He entertains me. I love him.

Peace, Mego out.

Eating Again, Little One?

Today I was looking through the thousand and something photos from our wedding and engagement shoot that I just figured out how to put on our new laptop, and I just kept thinking how pretty I was and how skinny I was and how badly I wish to be that size again.

And then it struck me how sick I was too.

I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes just shy of 2 months after my "Happily ever after" day.

Should I do a little backstory? Probably. Here goes!

In September of 2014 I was hired at a local bakery called Delicious Orchards in Colts Neck NJ. They weren't supposed to keep anyone after the holidays, but ended up liking me and a few other people so much that they kept us after Christmas.
 It was amazing.
 I've never had a work experience like that before. I know a lot of people says it's like "Another family" but these people really were like my 2nd family. We laughed, we cried, we confided, we fought and we loved. I met some people who I will never forget, and I also met some people who I'd rather not ever see again, thank you.

Anyway, enough sappy shit. Where was I... Oh yea.

So when I started I had some pretty long days filled with lots of physical labor. I went from sitting on my couch watching netflix to working 5 days a week, 7 am to 5 pm (usually) if not later. Then after the holidays things started to slow down, as they usually did at the Orchard. But my hours changed. I started going in around 5 most mornings, it was time to make the donuts! Some mornings I wouldn't have to be in until 530, and others I had to be in at 4 or 430- depending on the donut  expectations during the week.

I hadn't really been feeling too well the past few months, and it intensified when my hours changed and I started my workday at 430-5 am instead of 7am. I thought I had just never adjusted fully to the whole working full time gig. But when I started working earlier, man oh man was I pooped. My head pounded constantly, I was always achy and had a lot of back and neck pain, and pain in my abdomen. I honestly thought i was just getting abs that you couldnt see under my pooch i have always had. Then I started losing a lot of weight, despite the amount of food I was eating... Looking back I can't believe how we didn't know something else was happening. How we didn't know something was wrong. I ate so much I don't even know how to describe it. Let's just say that EVERYONE in the whole place knew me by how much I ate. All the older ladies would always tell me to "be careful, it will catch up to you someday!" People who I didn't even talk to would walk by me on break and say "look at Megan! Is she eating again?? It's only 10 in the morning and I've seen her eat 3 meals already!" I'd just give them the finger and tell them they wished they could eat like me. Ha.

One of my close friends, we can call him Rozwald, this wonderful Italian man with the sweetest accent in the world would always jab me in the ribs with his elbow and say he couldn't believe how I ate. "Eating again, little one?" We would sit together at lunch and breaks every day and he would watch me eat and shake his head in disbelief.

And despite how incredibly much I constantly ate, nothing could quench the hunger I always felt, and nothing could quench the thirst. I would drink close to 2 gallons of water every single day. And don't even get me started on how often I peed. I was blessed to work with certain people who actually liked me, because when I say I was heading to the bathroom every half hour, I was heading to the bathroom every half hour. I used to joke and say they were going to fire me because of how many bathroom breaks I would always take.

Besides the constant pain I was in, plus the headaches, the eating and drinking and peeing, I was so exhausted. Which again I contributed to the fact that I just didn't get much sleep and I had to be up early for work. I honestly thought all of this was normal. And so I dealt with it. For months I dealt with it. Almost crippling tiredness, pain, sluggishness, moodiness, and weight loss. I thought this was normal stress related, teen stuff. After all, I was planning my wedding at the same time.

Fast forward to my wedding day. Everything went so well. There were some not so great things here and there, but overall, simply wonderful. I couldn't have asked for more in a wedding day!
Then we honeymooned, (which is a completely different blog post in itself) and returned home to our normal lives.

A few weeks after we got back, my husband and I filed for life insurance after the prompting of my wonderful parents. We were young, totally healthy and it would be cheaper the healthier we were. So we figured why not?

I remember a few nights after we filed, I came home after being out somewhere, I don't remember now. I walked into my living room where my parents were sitting just the 2 of them. Which is weird for my home because of all the people living in it. My mommy told me to sit down so I did, close to her. I said, " Come on guys, who died?" with a little chuckle. they smiled and said nobody died, but they got an unsettling phone call they had to tell me about. They said that the rep from the life insurance company, (also a family friend) called them directly and said I was rejected for my life insurance because I was a health risk and they couldn't risk insuring me.

I was rejected. I was rejected for life insurance out of nowhere.

The reps aren't supposed to call you, and it was odd that he did, so I knew it was serious. "Am I dying? Do I have cancer? Why would they reject me?" My mind was spinning.

My mom told me that my long term blood sugars were very high and I needed to go to the doctor and have them checked out.

My A1C was 12.3 And I was very sick. My doctor was baffled that I wasn't hospitalized. I count myself blessed because for many other type 1's, they find out they have diabetes because they end up in the hospital for days with syrup running through their veins instead of blood.
I know I was blessed. But It's still hard to feel sometimes when you're stuck with this lifelong disease that touches you every single day of your life.

My DO family was so good to me, so understanding and gracious about the whole thing. My doctors said that I shouldn't be working in the state that I was in, and I told the Orchard that, and everything was ok. I'm not saying that it wasn't an inconvenience to them because I'm sure that it was. But they were just so good to me and told me that I had a job when I wanted to come back.

3 months after I was diagnosed, we found out I was pregnant. to the shock of my doctors, I had gotten my A1C down to 6.9 and was seemingly healthy enough to carry a child.

My life was falling apart, but my dreams were coming true at the same time. I will admit, I wasn't in a good state of mind since my diagnosis, and only recently came out of that. It was the hardest year of my life and I felt very alone. Very sad and alone and abandoned by God and thinking thoughts that I am afraid to even admit to myself.

Sometimes I can only think, thank God I got pregnant when I did. Because I value this tiny life inside of me more than I value many things in my own, and I truly believe that through God, she saved me.

At my doctor visit last week, I found out my A1C is now 5.7 and my numbers have been alright. a few highs here and there but nothing I can't handle. (I say this now, but if we just keep in mind my last blog post, I'm sure I'll recant that in a few days.)

I wonder if my life will always be this roller coaster of happy and sad, or will it calm down and I'll mature a little (or a lot) and be more stable? Not that I think that I'm unstable, I just think that I'm only 19 and still have some growing to do.

I think it will be better when Maggie is here.

I can't wait to hold her in my arms.

Peace, Mego out.

My Sister's Dog Keeps Shitting On My Floor

Ok, but seriously. This dog pushes his way into my room and shits on my floor for no reason. Maybe he just doesn't like me. But he tries to cuddle with me so he must like me. Right?

I had another doctor appointment today. He's trying to tell me all this ish about how I don't know how to control my asthma (which I have had for about... 19 years of my life. Literally ever since I can remember.) It was my 2nd visit with him. He's one of my newer doctors. He's a fool I tell you, a fool. Maybe I should just find a new primary. Screw you, Dr. Carson!

He also wants me to have a pulmonary function test done. I am over tests and needles. Too bad I will never ever be able to get away from the latter. With the diabeetus and all. Oy.
   Keep in mind that this is the same doctor who ordered a CAT scan done STAT last month because he was 100% sure that I had a pulmonary embolism, AKA blood clots in my lungs.
I think hes a quack who is behind on his yacht payments and doesn't give a shit how he pays them. (Meaning he's ordering bullshit tests and scans on pregnant chicks, for fun.) Grr.

I'm tired today. Not like I had a bad sleep last night and I'm going to bed early to make up for it. Like I'm tired of being sick. I'm tired of having diabetes and other chronic illnesses that will never leave me for the rest of my days. My heart is tired and my brain is tired and I am struggling with today, and dealing with life.

But days are temporary. And feelings can be too... Sometimes.

 I know that I won't always feel like this. Some days will inevitably be worse than others, and some days I'll be happy and confident in my position in life, where I am and the progress I've made. Other days I'll look at my so-called progress and cry because I'll feel like I've gotten nowhere and I'm failing myself, my body, my child and everyone around me. I've had them days before and I'll sure as hell have them again.

Today is one of those think about my "progress" and cry kind of days.

My doctor wants me to have an eye exam because my eyesight is getting worse and we want to make sure I won't be blind by the time I'm 30 because of my diabetes.
I also need to go for some other test or scan or something the week after my daughter is born because I can't have it done while I'm pregnant because it will make her grow a third arm or some shit... Makes me think,  " What is that doing to MY insides?"
I guess in the end it wont matter too too much. I'll either live long and prosper or I wont, and I'm pretty content with either.

Peace, Mego out.

Ahh. Another Refreshing Morning.

You know that great feeling when you’re slowly waking up from your nighttime slumbers, you can hear birds chirping, you can hear the wind coursing through the leaves on the trees, in sort of a sing-songy way, welcoming you to a brand new day with brand new possibilities, maybe you can hear a wind chime playing you the lovely tune of her people, the tune she was born to play from the moment of her creation, until she inevitably ends up torn from her hanging home, crumpled in a pile on the ground where she would lay for the rest of her wind chime existence.

Yeah, me neither. Maybe when I was younger, and without many an ailment.

Usually my waking moment is less of a slow  welcoming into the world’s new day kinda thing, and more of a ripped out of sleep by something (or someone) telling me to check my blood sugar. Or, it’s an abrupt how do you do when my bladder decides not to check if it's alright with my brain if it lets loose and sends pee cascading into the sheets while I sleep because my daughter just had to sprawl out and use said bladder as a bouncy house or some shit. Now, usually I do make it to the bathroom. I'm not that far gone. But sometimes I worry more than other times…

Or maybe I'm woken up by the pain that sets in after laying in one position for more than 20 minutes. I think that one's my favorite. Hips, back, legs, neck, shoulders. You all know what I’m talking about.

Hell, I’m only 19, why do I feel like this all the time? Oh yeah, I’m growing a human life.

Now, there are some upsides to all these things. Waking up in the middle of the night to check my blood sugar instead of slipping into a coma and dying would be easier for everyone involved, I think.

Having my brain make 1 last ditch effort to wake me up to go to the bathroom before it gives in to my bladder’s pleads of "please let me pee” is better than just letting me slumber and wake up in cold wet sheets. Thanks, brain.

And my pain just means that I AM GROWING A CHILD. And not just any child, MY child. The innocent  one I will raise and teach good morals to. The little one I will clean scraped knees for and sing soothing tunes to in times of need. The beautiful one who one day I will hug tightly with tears in my eyes  and tell her she's making the right choice in who she commits her life to for the remainder of it. If I didn't have this pain, it would mean that I'm not working my very hardest to create a better and healthier life for my little one. So I’ll take it. I’ll take all the pain, and the tears, and the uncomfortable that it will take to make sure my child knows just how much she means to me, and just how hard I’m willing to work for her to have a good life, before she's even in this world. They say that after you have a baby, your life will never be the same. Well my life is completely different now because of this kid, and it morphed from the second I knew she was forming. From the time she was the size of a little tiny poppy seed, to now, when I can feel her crushing my bladder, and kicking my ribs at the same time. My life is drastically different and I can't wait to meet my best friend. She has changed me in more ways that one, and I will never be the same.

Sometimes in life you have hardships and struggles, but it's easy to see the good. Other times, you have bombs whipped at you and in the moments that you're being attacked, the dread and sorrow make it too overwhelming to breathe, let alone see any good that might possibly come out of it. There are things that I refuse to write about, that are too hard to talk about, let alone scrawl them out onto a page for the public to read. But even now, with scars that were once wounds I thought would never heal, I can look back with strength and understanding and see the good. There is a little good in everything. Of this I am sure. Even if it never touches you, somebody else will get some good from it and maybe find peace. Maybe find comfort. Maybe find the last little string that they can hold onto for a little while longer. I have realized that in this life, I do not matter. What matters to me is others. My child's health and well-being, my husband's comfort and happiness, my mother's peace and calm. My father’s desire to be loved without jumping through a few sometimes seemingly necessary hoops… I didn't do anything to deserve my Father’s love or acceptance. There is no reason for it. Other than just love. And a plain desire to be loved back. Just the other day I was talking to a woman I didn't know, at the store or something. And she said that she didn't understand why people could not be kind. She said that kindness is free, and kindness pays. And I’m not sure I've heard a truer statement. Kindness is free, and kindness pays.

Peace, Mego out.

Intro? First blog post? I don't know what I'm doing.

I'm not entirely sure what my first blog post should be about. Should it be about me? Should it be about others? What am I hoping to accomplish? To help myself? To uplift others? To sort out the scramble that is my brain 85% of the time? I know I want to share my hardships, struggles, experiences and happiness with others. I think that's about all I know at this point.
 Let's get a few things straight here.
-Firstly, I love God, I love my husband, I love my mom, I love my dog and I love my unborn child.
-Secondly, I am not a professional writer! I am a mere child trying to adjust to adulthood as quickly as possible. I do not claim to be a good writer, or even an alright writer. I thought it would help me handle myself, my feelings and my emotions better than I handle them now.
 Lord knows.
-Thirdly, nerding out for one second so excuse me, but my kid is kicking the shit out of my laptop that is sitting atop mah belleh and it's making me giggle. Heh.
-Fourthly, (Is 'fourthly' a word? Sounds funky.)  My faith is important to me. More important than many things, if not everything. BUT (I'm sorry, Mommy!) Sometimes I have a bad mouth. I sometimes say bad words. Alright? Don't judge me, bitches. Only God can judge me.
-Fifthly, if I am ever talking about food that I have made in future blog posts, IT IS HOMEMADE UNLESS OTHERWISE SPECIFIED. My family takes pride in our food and how it is prepared. But also, I will probably explain the level of homemade certain things are, if I really want to get a point across.
My PDM is beeping at me to check my blood sugar. So I guess that's it for now. That's all that my mind could think of at the moment anyway. I hope I don't sound too self-centered or back-woodsy. I promise I'm not dumb... Most of the time anyway. But hey, if'n ya'll don't like it, ya'll can skedaddle and not read my friggin' blog. Even though I'm not sure why you wouldn't want to, because I think I'm pretty awesome. Usually.

Peace, Mego out.