tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66670115893097086162024-02-07T11:27:42.539-06:00Adventure's of a Crispy MamaThis is all about my life parenting two crazy boys and our day to day adventures we call life. I'm a Christian, semi-crunchy mama (I prefer the term "crispy"). I have been abundantly blessed with an amazing family, and wonderful friends.crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-52316664046848520182013-08-09T15:13:00.002-05:002013-08-09T15:13:22.995-05:00Road Trip 2013All year we have been anticipating our 15 day road trip to California and back. We were so busy, though, that we had other things keeping our minds from dwelling on it too much. I was anxious about how the kids would do with all the driving (I was not ready to hear "Are we there yet?" for hours on end). I planned our route, made reservations at some RV parks, planned out meals, bought groceries, packed up the camper.... But even up until we left I didn't feel like it was really time to leave. So much planning, it felt strange to get in the truck and go.<br />
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2 days before we left, we had serious truck trouble. Ryan had to stay up late the 2 nights before we left to fix it (and still get up before dawn to go to work all day). It wasn't easy chipping away each bearing that had essentially welded themselves to the axle, but at least we didn't have to buy a new axle. Once again, I was thankful he has super mechanic skills and was able to fix it himself. Sure did save us a lot of money, and we didn't have to delay the trip. <br />
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We left on a Saturday morning, a little later than planned thanks to the truck troubles. Our goal was to make it to Carlsbad, NM so we could visit Carlsbad Caverns the next day. Let me just mention here that there were only 2 things on this trip that I had not seen before, but Ryan hasn't seen any of it. He's been to San Diego and the beach, but that was it. <br />
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This was our very first night to pull into an RV park with our new (to us) travel trailer and get it all hooked up. Fortunately, Ryan is a 'jack of all trades' so this was a no brainer for him. He showed me how to level it out with the jacks and set it all up. The kids were going crazy from sitting all day, and they enjoyed the small playground the park offered. We managed to get the kids to bed, since we knew we had a long day ahead.<br />
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Carlsbad Caverns was simply amazing. We took the natural entrance down, which looks like a big hole in the ground. It was approximately a 1.25 mile walk to the Big Room, all down hill. Then we did the self guided tour of the Big Room (about a 1.3 mile walk). Eli was too young for any of the guided tours, so we skipped those. Because I had to take it slow due to my foot, and the fact that we had 2 kids with us, we were still down there for several hours. When we finished in the Caverns, we took the elevator up, ate some lunch, then headed back to camp for a break.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riley was mad that we stopped for a picture, and refused to smile.<br />He was just ready to get down into that big cave!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eli was getting tired from all the walking, so he hitched a ride.<br />Later, Ryan carried Eli on the front and Riley on the back. <br />I really wished I had remembered to bring the Boba!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riley adopted "Batty" and Eli adopted "Batman". They slept with these each night of the trip.</td></tr>
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We returned later that night for the Bat Flight Program. Since they don't know exactly what time the bats will decide to wake up to find food, the park ranger leading the program shared some facts. The highlight of the program was the skit they did, with some audience participation. They needed a "mysterious man" for one of the parts. Guess who was voted in? Batman! A young boy (9-10?) came dressed as Batman, in full costume. He had to grunt when pointed to for his part, and he did the perfect impression of Batman. No photos are allowed during the Bat Flight, so as not to disrupt the bats, so we only have our memories of that. I was actually surprised at how long it took for them to stream out -- we left after 30 minutes and the bats still were coming out of the caves! <br />
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We had to stop and talk to the park ranger, though. Riley didn't believe Ryan and me when we told him that there was no giant robot bat hanging from the cave ceiling. He swore he saw one down there, even though we tried our best to explain that is was just shadows. The park ranger didn't give a straight answer, though, so I'm not really sure what Riley believes now....<br />
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Monday morning, we unhooked and hit the road. We drove through beautiful Cloudcroft, NM, where the temps were only in the low 70's!! We stopped briefly to let the brakes cool, and enjoyed this view of White Sands in the distance.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can see White Sands in the distance. <br />We asked strangers to take photos of the 4 of us at various places on the trip.</td></tr>
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Our stop was brief at White Sands, but we had a quick picnic lunch then let the boys play. They loved rolling down the sand dunes! We wished we had sleds (or at least cardboard) with us, but we also knew we'd never be able to drag the kids away if we did. <br />
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We continued our drive to stay in Tucson, AZ for the night. The desert was so hot, and so bland. We pulled into the Oceanside RV Park in Oceanside, CA just before sunset. We quickly hooked up, then walked to the beach. It should have been only an 8 minute walk, but we didn't know where we were going and didn't look at a map. So after about 20 minutes we finally arrived just in time to see the sun set over the Pacific. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Cheese!" <em>Now can I go play?!</em></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the best photo I could get of him. I'm just sad his face was blurry!<br />But it captures him at the beach so perfectly, since he was too excited to be still!</td></tr>
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The boys didn't want to leave, but we promised them we would return to spend more time in the sand. <br />
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We spent all day Wednesday at Legoland. The kids had a blast!! Riley was able to ride everything, but Eli had to miss out on 3 rides because he wasn't tall enough (about 1" short). This was never an issue, though, since Ryan or I would just take him to another ride. We were there about 10 hours, and still didn't do everything! We skipped the longer lines (anything more than 30 minutes) so we'd be able to see more of the park. There was an awesome display of Star Wars Miniland, and even a life size model of an X Wing fighter made of more than 5,335,200 legos!!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was a favorite for all 4 of us! The boys loved to play and get wet. <br />Ryan & I enjoyed being able to sit and watch instead of constantly moving!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How many hugs do you think Darth Vader is used to getting?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys protected us from the fiery dragon!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The life size model that took 32 builders over 3 months to build!</td></tr>
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Thursday we decided to take a break from Legoland, and have a quiet day. We drove up to the Oceanside Farmers Market and enjoyed some delicious peaches and plums! Then we walked out on the pier before going to Carlsbad to find some lunch. After a wonderful seafood lunch (I had the Scottish salmon, Ryan had swordfish), we had ice cream at <a href="http://www.subzeroicecream.com/#" target="_blank">Sub Zero</a>, a place where they make the ice cream, yogurt, or custard to your unique taste and freeze it in front of you using liquid nitrogen! The boys enjoyed picking out their flavors and add ins and seeing the cloud of 'smoke' before enjoying a cold treat.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDGKQmunKQw2fwJausXM4KNnR9tT8ZDJpmYmQmCGOW7jivVrp0Gk5lUmEwvdhwi537tao1ze63BhFXXp6iomawIUXvylPiB8_4tr3qMdwxq3SyXIcr-RULJrF1-p3PNpqzd_-ASK8U2Lz/s1600/64409_10201797857332289_1734556415_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRDGKQmunKQw2fwJausXM4KNnR9tT8ZDJpmYmQmCGOW7jivVrp0Gk5lUmEwvdhwi537tao1ze63BhFXXp6iomawIUXvylPiB8_4tr3qMdwxq3SyXIcr-RULJrF1-p3PNpqzd_-ASK8U2Lz/s400/64409_10201797857332289_1734556415_n.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Juicy plums at the Oceanside Farmer's Market</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8pl3WjnYUKh_zlE_9xalw6OhB_vViRA8Xc1Y0sni-hm1b0-nQesFWzNjxmPW2W6wBS622Z9HXe3nrYMWE9NDoyIcooquMZWyOhqSNsw9jY2PWYS2OhXeW8hyphenhyphenczLk3pIMUb2o0NSqyYwx1/s1600/DSC_0173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8pl3WjnYUKh_zlE_9xalw6OhB_vViRA8Xc1Y0sni-hm1b0-nQesFWzNjxmPW2W6wBS622Z9HXe3nrYMWE9NDoyIcooquMZWyOhqSNsw9jY2PWYS2OhXeW8hyphenhyphenczLk3pIMUb2o0NSqyYwx1/s400/DSC_0173.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pier in Oceanside.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgza_KOgfxqcJR1mUBOw2EprDr-tAWk-EIVxoxboPLKfY3fbk-5b6jM23zx_l1F37UeI4ghspSG-KOzXWXkzWneyaMFGeIYC97w_6xWEVfIHVwZOotGYWIgzXcDL0bOedP8DqQP3leZTVOh/s1600/972048_10201798765234986_720832699_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgza_KOgfxqcJR1mUBOw2EprDr-tAWk-EIVxoxboPLKfY3fbk-5b6jM23zx_l1F37UeI4ghspSG-KOzXWXkzWneyaMFGeIYC97w_6xWEVfIHVwZOotGYWIgzXcDL0bOedP8DqQP3leZTVOh/s400/972048_10201798765234986_720832699_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fro Yo at Sub Zero, Carlsbad, CA</td></tr>
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We then headed back to the camper to change into our suits and head for the beach! This was our first time to Cali in the "heat" of the summer (it was only about 74 degrees and cloudy while we were there). The water was still cold, but we all got in the water. Riley told us that he wasn't cold, that his arms and lips were shaking because "they're just scared". The boys absolutely loved playing in the waves!! Eli was knocked over countless times, but he didn't care. We built sandcastles. I even had the genius idea to let them bury me in the sand (hey, I get to lay there while they stay busy, what could be better than that?!). It was a good idea, until I had to try to wash the sand off of me. The pool at our campground had a warm water outdoor shower, which worked so much better than the cold mister they had at the beach. Then we swam in the heated pool before getting ready for dinner. No pics of the afternoon, since I left my camera behind so I could also enjoy the sand and water! And since my phone crashed, I lost the pics I had on there.<br />
We had 2 different people recommend Pizza Port -- a great pizza place with their own micro brewery! The place was packed, but Ryan and I enjoyed some local craft brews while waiting for the delicious pizza. We were disappointed they don't bottle their own brew, but we did buy a few local craft beers to bring home for Ryan's 30th birthday beer tasting party. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-E0O3W3EoDhnhxOhGQ6bCqMy2OpntMJeI4dTIiORe7-BJt5iuDNdcBvMqOhyMW8hCR06wz36O5_nSNiOicV_zt2h5BqOiQi2Kyy5O-2MNRfEt4KQ50k-VDQMNoI5Ty9y0EjNLph8aJ3mH/s1600/1005779_10201800352554668_1575995276_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-E0O3W3EoDhnhxOhGQ6bCqMy2OpntMJeI4dTIiORe7-BJt5iuDNdcBvMqOhyMW8hCR06wz36O5_nSNiOicV_zt2h5BqOiQi2Kyy5O-2MNRfEt4KQ50k-VDQMNoI5Ty9y0EjNLph8aJ3mH/s400/1005779_10201800352554668_1575995276_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for pizza!</td></tr>
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Friday, we headed back to Legoland to visit the water park! It was much busier that day since it wasn't mid-week, but not terrible. We brought the camper this time since we had to check out of the RV park by 11:00. It was only $5 more for parking, but we were able to park near the entrance in their oversized vehicle parking lot. Again, no pics of this day since I left my camera behind so I could enjoy the fun in the water with the kids.<br />
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Riley told me his favorite part of Legoland was "Everything!! I liked Legoland water park and the regular park!" Eli told me his favorite was "Legoland water park!"<br />
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Late afternoon, we left Legoland and changed in the camper before heading off to the California desert to visit my brother, his wife, and their 2 kids. I'll post the rest of our trip in another post:) This one is long already, and our internet out here in the stix in extremely sloooooooooo....oooow to upload pics. It took about 4 hours just to upload the ones to this post. crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-36655463488621777742013-04-16T06:00:00.000-05:002013-04-16T06:00:07.856-05:00Two Years.<span lang="">Today marks 2 years since our motorcycle accident. I often wonder when the day will come that it won't constantly be on my mind. While I have accepted what happened and forgiven the person who hit us, it is difficult to put it behind me when I am reminded of it with every step I take. Literally. <br />
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On April 6, 2013 I participated in my very first 5K. I knew I couldn't run it, but I wanted to do it to prove to myself I could complete it. I felt that if I could accomplish this small feat, then I would be one step (or a couple thousand) closer to putting the accident behind me. I walked it with a friend who is training for a 5K in May. We completed our 3 goals: <em>1) finish in under 1 hour; 2) don't come in last place; 3) cross the finish line.</em> <br />
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During the walk, I felt fine! I was barely winded as we kept up a brisk walking pace. I was proud that all of the work I've put in at the gym over the last 3 months have paid off, in that respect! We even jogged for about 100 feet or so. I have discovered that I am capable of jogging, though it's with a limp and a lot of pain. But I <i>am</i> capable of jogging for brief distances -- something I was not able to do a few months ago. This is a great comfort to know that if my child runs out in a parking lot I will be able to chase them. <br />
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<strong>Immediately after the 5K, I felt fine. I felt proud. I felt accomplished.</strong> My foot was a little sore, but not too bad.<br />
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Two hours later, I wasn't feeling so great. We had a busy day, shopping for flooring and picking up our new appliances for the new house. Yes, that's right! We bought a house!! More on that later. My foot hurt so bad that I took a long, hot bath and a pain pill before bed. It was the first pain pill in over a year. Two other times the following week I took a pain pill, as the aftermath of the 5K was just too much. <br />
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That proud feeling of accomplishment diminished. I wondered, <i>Why the hell did I think I could do that?!</i> The awful thought crept back into my mind, <i>Why didn't the doctors just amputate my foot? Why did they try so hard to save it, when it causes me so much pain?! Medical technology has come so far that people with prosthetics can do far more than I can. </i><br />
<i>
</i><br />
<strong>It is hard to stay positive when every step hurts</strong>. <br />
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One of my favorite things to do during the Christmas holidays is bake. I love to try new recipes, as well as old. This past Christmas, I decided to just deal with the pain of standing in the kitchen so I could do what I love. I have tried to make this decision more often the last several months. I figure, this is something I just have to deal with so I shouldn't miss out on what I want to do. I joined a gym in January and started meeting with a personal trainer twice a week. With my inactivity, I gained weight. I decided I would no longer use the pain as an excuse not to better myself. I try to prevent as much pain as possible, by taking ibuprofen, stretching, and using kinesio tape before anthing that requires a lot of standing or walking. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn't. <br />
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But when I do something I love, I pay for it dearly. It takes a minimum of a week to recover from a big event. The 5K was by far the worst recovery in a long time. It has been harder to deal with emotionally than I expected. While I'm still proud of myself for doing it, it also made me extremely disappointed that I was one of the last ones across the finish line. No, I wasn't last, but I wasn't even close to being in the middle of the pack. I was reminded yet again of how one moment can change a life forever.<br />
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Then the guilt hits. Again. I feel like I should be more grateful we are okay, and I am. I am extremely grateful. The guilt creeps in when I remind myself of how much worse it could have been. <br />
<br />
</span><span style="font-size: small;">I didn't pay attention to what the charity was when I signed up for the 5K, or even the morning of the event. It was all about proving something to myself (<i>kinda selfish, huh?</i>). It wasn't until later that day when my mom noticed the race's t-shirt I was wearing. The race was to support Jackie's Scholarship Fund. <a href="http://jackiemurphree.com/" target="_blank">Jackie Murphree</a> is the victim of a drunk driver. She suffered traumatic brain injury, and nearly died in the accident in 2007. Her family has held strong to support Jackie. She has become an inspiration to those around her. </span><br />
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I feel I don't have the right to complain about the pain when others aren't as fortunate as we were. While I am thankful it wasn't worse, it doesn't change the fact that every step I take hurts. Yes, it could be worse. But that doesn't take the physical pain away. I feel guilty for wishing (at the worst of times) that the doctors had just amputated my foot. <br />
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I also feel guilty when I think about how Ryan survived cancer. If he could go through 2. 5 years of chemo and be the amazing man he is today, then I can suck it up and deal with this.<br />
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I also have guilt about money. I received a sizeable settlement from the insurance company for the accident. Part of me is thankful for what we got, the other part of me thinks it wasn't enough. I have had a hard time accepting that we do deserve some kind of compensation for the short and long term hard ships the accident caused. It was a stressful ordeal, and I'm thankful we had a lawyer to take care of it all for us. We haven't talked publicly about the settlement very often. I feel like others will judge me for accepting a settlement. Even worse, I feel others will judge me for being <i>excited</i> about getting a settlement.<br />
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I used to secretly judge those who pursued a settlement after an accident. I thought they were just being greedy and trying to take advantage of an unfortunate situation. While many people do this, I now realize there are many people who pursue settlements because they truly did suffer. I didn't realize until we went through it just how hard it makes your entire life. We paid a lot of money upfront for medical bills, while others went to collections because we couldn't pay them. Yes, we have medical insurance but there were the co-pays, deductibles, and patient portions that we were responsible for. In addition, there were childcare expenses so I could go to doctor's appointments and physical therapy once my mom moved back home. I also went to a chiropractor for a few months to see if that made a difference -- that was all out of pocket. It was hard not just on me, but my entire family: my husband, my parents, my kids, my inlaws.... It was more than just myself affected by my injuries. <br />
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I have permanent damage, that I will always have to deal with. How do you put a price tag on something like that? I struggled with finding a magical number that made me feel comfortable. <strong>I felt guilty for wanting more, but also felt like I was selling myself short if we asked for too little.</strong> Nearly 2 years after the accident happened, we got a check from the insurance company. <br />
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It would have been easy to splurge with the money (which we've done a <i>little </i>bit, but not much). We have done our best to be smart with the money. We paid off some debt and medical bills (because I had a <i>lot</i> of medical bills!). We also took full advantage of things we normally wouldn't have been able to do. We bought a second vehicle (the truck Ryan has wanted since before he met me!). We bought a house with 5 acres, in cash. Not having a mortgage is such a blessing for us, as we are a one income family. We are also buying an RV to use for family vacations. Since hotels and airfare are so expensive this will help make those trips more affordable. We are planning a 2 week vacation this summer to visit Carlsbad Caverns, White Sands, family in California, Disneyland, the beach, Hoover Dam, and the Grand Canyon. Most importantly, we are setting aside a good emergency fund and retirment savings. <br />
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I often joke that my foot has paid for all of these things. <b>Though it's true, and it's a bigger blessing than we can even express, I would never go through any of this again</b>. I can't imagine where our lives would have been if we weren't in the wreck, therefore never receiving the settlement. There's no point in wondering what would have been, but I don't think we would be in as good of a place as we are now. <em>But I also wouldn't have chronic pain</em>. It is very bittersweet. I am thankful that something good has come out of something bad. I hold onto that everytime I feel the guilt creep up. <br />
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We finally feel like our life is no longer <i>on hold</i>. For the first year, it was all about short term recovery. For the last year, we have been waiting to see what would happened with the settlement. Now that that chapter is closed, we can finally start moving forward. At times, it is harder to deal with the aftermath of the accident now than it was in the beginning. Short term recovery was easy, in retrospect. The reality of the long term effects is hard to accept.<br />
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I am working on dealing with the guilt. I also plan to make a doctor's appointment to see if there is anything that can be done for the pain in my foot and ankle. While I don't have an official diagnosis, I am pretty sure I suffer from Plantar Fasciitis and Achilles Tendonitis as a result the permanent damage in my ankle. I have done research to find new ways to find relief for these conditions, to no avail. Everything I've tried provides very little, short term relief. As much as I hate to think about it, surgery appears to be the next step for relief (and it's not even a guarantee). But I'm to the point that I will try anything to reduce the pain in my foot and ankle. <em> I am tired of living in pain. I'm tired of having to decide if an activity is worth it, as it takes a week or more to recover.</em> <br />
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<strong>The one thing I know for sure, is that God has seen us through the last 2 years. He would have been there through every "what if...." scenario I could think of, if those had come to fruition. He will always be there for us, no matter where life takes us. I have always been, and I continue to be, <i>thankful</i>.</strong> <br />
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And now, just a few photos of the reasons I am thankful! These are raw, unedited photos -- far from perfect! Which is fitting, since we are far from perfection. These memories hold a special place in my heart. Not only the memories we have already experience, but the ones yet to come as we see what God has in store for our future.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0XZ8ooe0Y_g-g-EZOUvi-t9hJut4emDOYriQ_hFzJGSzCcIgQpIQcBNyuK4mrFWabUSvcXHjv975gjFIsXDxCu2QrPIq_f-nK-AcGuiV3vRoeojoMvoAPJ7PL2i9s-02cSngVdqPS7A1/s1600/DSC_0697.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0XZ8ooe0Y_g-g-EZOUvi-t9hJut4emDOYriQ_hFzJGSzCcIgQpIQcBNyuK4mrFWabUSvcXHjv975gjFIsXDxCu2QrPIq_f-nK-AcGuiV3vRoeojoMvoAPJ7PL2i9s-02cSngVdqPS7A1/s400/DSC_0697.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking the boys to see the pond on our new property!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnyU3As3xRjLvp9kBEOkuVcuch8BXxQ_ptYhcCNLyvhl4mzJDvXRayET5e5pKpFB_pti0O9KrlgHeU6BMqkcQ9s7K7WBBlykoKfrAOrO0Kdk3I7awTKLlEZ20HWaZ7v7RXL2PuZN2amIJh/s1600/DSC_0704.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnyU3As3xRjLvp9kBEOkuVcuch8BXxQ_ptYhcCNLyvhl4mzJDvXRayET5e5pKpFB_pti0O9KrlgHeU6BMqkcQ9s7K7WBBlykoKfrAOrO0Kdk3I7awTKLlEZ20HWaZ7v7RXL2PuZN2amIJh/s400/DSC_0704.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset view from the pond.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvd7m3hBjnbJ8FnPT03AnFiKKDWZkJ0W-nyfAuzKSenneEiL2BzgEJabuc8LOLSFiS16SCURvTa7TUmoMieKLWnfmL1vk6osUeEcvUUX2Hcwz7-rtIoPSzLdiHNadb-s7Gjv22BJhY8VY6/s1600/DSC_0718.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvd7m3hBjnbJ8FnPT03AnFiKKDWZkJ0W-nyfAuzKSenneEiL2BzgEJabuc8LOLSFiS16SCURvTa7TUmoMieKLWnfmL1vk6osUeEcvUUX2Hcwz7-rtIoPSzLdiHNadb-s7Gjv22BJhY8VY6/s400/DSC_0718.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The gorgeous view behind our house! It's not all ours, but it's nice to look at!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg29IlyJZn6b1HiWQIIrst2D2QbkGVlIiqBOaxraTW7fLSYxxQbncxv-K5zzwJqrwxsnQ4CB3Xr2B-vVHQZ5_VC2BBQ1vHyztJou0O-riX_hYOlxcpOl6_Al0Sas05nK0FDp8DX_3XBbAJ-/s1600/DSC_0709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg29IlyJZn6b1HiWQIIrst2D2QbkGVlIiqBOaxraTW7fLSYxxQbncxv-K5zzwJqrwxsnQ4CB3Xr2B-vVHQZ5_VC2BBQ1vHyztJou0O-riX_hYOlxcpOl6_Al0Sas05nK0FDp8DX_3XBbAJ-/s400/DSC_0709.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ryan showing the boys a prickly pear cactus.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbjQj-XLGQxP2bu2ZipD-0pB5Xtuz_jrEw6hgMCDpW2NDiqpoOTUUBYg3gZQu_N-d9ZHPNWYJxWlgz24BFd4GNXGb_NeNnkFpQdgMXCMBqpmUZOr-V_FsBRQeJ6H4vMN2XId058SnWOlAg/s1600/DSC_0723.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbjQj-XLGQxP2bu2ZipD-0pB5Xtuz_jrEw6hgMCDpW2NDiqpoOTUUBYg3gZQu_N-d9ZHPNWYJxWlgz24BFd4GNXGb_NeNnkFpQdgMXCMBqpmUZOr-V_FsBRQeJ6H4vMN2XId058SnWOlAg/s400/DSC_0723.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kings of the Mountain!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDe8M5nU-7RNNPt8ks81PGt2Qbn2AJzJQTeH24MP8Wc6RHyBQVA37ztqEh0zI4CeaEOM6-BKF21pYot6Rc7vvaYYZahtmIoUn-SKN-yKbjKjT0MB9NJecANnwsN5oDHyhbht9tJ0B4x4Xy/s1600/DSC_0222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDe8M5nU-7RNNPt8ks81PGt2Qbn2AJzJQTeH24MP8Wc6RHyBQVA37ztqEh0zI4CeaEOM6-BKF21pYot6Rc7vvaYYZahtmIoUn-SKN-yKbjKjT0MB9NJecANnwsN5oDHyhbht9tJ0B4x4Xy/s400/DSC_0222.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ryan and his new (to us) truck.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ9xEM1X6-F-OkYFA5tvsSh0axKnv3QKY4YKFWeLVXeghSAhU_70W6F5oqfm4t248GYgKn8KLOqsX807ZTeGk_QJlImpLPl8x_9eDuSVRvKGi4mT0A4Xe45zD37h_iLDSGsAlk0unEBrTm/s1600/DSC_0439.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ9xEM1X6-F-OkYFA5tvsSh0axKnv3QKY4YKFWeLVXeghSAhU_70W6F5oqfm4t248GYgKn8KLOqsX807ZTeGk_QJlImpLPl8x_9eDuSVRvKGi4mT0A4Xe45zD37h_iLDSGsAlk0unEBrTm/s400/DSC_0439.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Working together at the Children's Museum.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeiigFOOqcnso6a0Q95SbZiOtR5WgCPCttgvxYoSRJnaXJN9DSPfDxjYSNhEF39y9I_xeeeF7g0TKl18FFGvalDTswIYRCk3hUZAk16t0ibDO4LJD9Krg_dprVO5mw9SjQZGhruwEhBl8j/s1600/DSC_0494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeiigFOOqcnso6a0Q95SbZiOtR5WgCPCttgvxYoSRJnaXJN9DSPfDxjYSNhEF39y9I_xeeeF7g0TKl18FFGvalDTswIYRCk3hUZAk16t0ibDO4LJD9Krg_dprVO5mw9SjQZGhruwEhBl8j/s400/DSC_0494.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Fix It, just like his daddy.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3WJNuL56AprkamyA8ZulRC4dZvUK1NjAEmyGoxFX1hCq7_avA1EWyWAJjD5sfxxYZT2g3I9xsdViWSVgKvByeGnIecdoYGGLNgEmKqCDGxqNNsgPgDfgZbGZ9vKP6DfI3lPDLbwataumj/s1600/DSC_0501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3WJNuL56AprkamyA8ZulRC4dZvUK1NjAEmyGoxFX1hCq7_avA1EWyWAJjD5sfxxYZT2g3I9xsdViWSVgKvByeGnIecdoYGGLNgEmKqCDGxqNNsgPgDfgZbGZ9vKP6DfI3lPDLbwataumj/s400/DSC_0501.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love the bond these boys have!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1nHvbEDF767HxUAsGyPgYb7dvi3OEOAVS_sAsXkfw8VzNPT6pi-ELz3Uc5OhDNH8kodKiZa1W-ZBSJC7NhG-ETreOFiwkqVJNJYBsRjTw0UvOWik0ARHx0Vfp7WbOb7XQc7Gnh8Nm1_tY/s1600/DSC_0650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1nHvbEDF767HxUAsGyPgYb7dvi3OEOAVS_sAsXkfw8VzNPT6pi-ELz3Uc5OhDNH8kodKiZa1W-ZBSJC7NhG-ETreOFiwkqVJNJYBsRjTw0UvOWik0ARHx0Vfp7WbOb7XQc7Gnh8Nm1_tY/s400/DSC_0650.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easter Sunday 2013</td></tr>
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</span><br />crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-87593173945382052052012-07-23T06:00:00.000-05:002012-07-23T09:47:18.765-05:00Fear.<i>My heart is breaking right now, for someone I barely know. </i><br />
<br />
<br />
A friend, who I've only met a couple times in real life, lost her husband this weekend. He was a police officer, on his way home from work. He was on his motorcycle, and hit by a drunk driver. <br />
<br />
As soon as I read about it on facebook, the tears started flowing. I've never met him, but they have 3 young children. She is a stay at home mom. He was in a motorcycle accident, caused by someone else. I guess it just hit close to home.<br />
<br />
While it brought back memories of our accident, and was a reminder of just how blessed we were, that isn't why my heart aches for her. I immediately thought about how I would feel if it were Ryan. That ache in my heart that would never go away. Having to tell the kids (probably multiple times) that they would never see their daddy again. How would I go through each day with this terrible yearning for a life that could have been? The inevitable question of <i>Why?! Why him? Why me? Why do our kids have to live the rest of their lives without their father? </i><br />
<br />
That is why my heart breaks for her, their kids, and their entire family. That is why I have been, and will continue to pray for them. <br />
<br />
At church Sunday morning, just hours after hearing about my friend's horrible loss, a man asked about my motorcycle tattoo. He rides, but said his wife doesn't really like it, so he's considering stopping. After I mentioned our accident, and that I haven't been on the bike since, he said "Why should you?" He pointed out that if something were to happen, it would be both parents that their kids would lose. <br />
<br />
I told him of my friend who just lost her husband. I told him I don't ever want to be in her shoes. That is a pain that I never want to know, a pain I don't want my kids to know. But I also told him I would ride again. <br />
<br />
In today's world, just <a href="http://usnews.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2012/07/20/12850048-cops-weeks-of-planning-went-into-shootings-at-colo-batman-screening" target="_blank">going to a movie can get you killed by a senseless act of violence</a>. People are killed each day in motor vehicle accidents (motorcycles or not). High winds can cause an <a href="http://www.nbcdfw.com/weather/stories/High-Winds-Storms-Move-into-North-Texas-163238856.html" target="_blank">18 wheeler to fall on your car</a>. Going to school doesn't guarantee safety, as we learned after Columbine and countless other school shootings. Ryan's job has the potential for a fatal accident. Even staying at home, there can be an electrical fire. People get sick (Ryan himself is a cancer survivor). Our daily routines are never 100% safe.<br />
<br />
I have often thought about telling Ryan that as long as we have young kids, he can't ride. I've thought about never riding again. Almost everyone asks me if I'll get on another bike. My answer has always been "Yes, I will." <br />
<br />
<b>I do not want to live my life in fear, for that is no life at all.</b> I will ride a motorcycle again, with Ryan. When? I can't answer that. I do know there will be some amount of fear involved, I'm not going to lie. The few times Ryan has gone on his bike alone has had me worried. <br />
<br />
But I refuse to let my fear win. I will continue to live my life. I will use our story as a testament to God's mercy, love, protection, and grace. <i>(Side note: You should read the article, "<a href="http://aminiatureclaypot.wordpress.com/2012/07/20/so-you-still-think-god-is-a-merciful-god/" target="_blank">So you STILL think God is a merciful God?!</a>")</i><br />
<br />
If He calls me Home before (<i>what us humans think is</i>) "my time", then so be it. I know in my heart I will see my family again. But I will live this life He has created for me until that day comes. Because He lives, so will I.<br />
<br />
<i><b>"Because He lives I can face tomorrow. Because He lives, all fear is gone! Because I know He holds the future. And life is worth the living just because He lives!"</b></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Please pray for my friend who lost her husband, their 3 children, and their entire family.</b><br />
<br />
<i><b>Lord, I pray for my friend, their children, and their entire family. I pray they feel the comfort, strength, and peace that only You can provide. I pray they allow Your people to help them through this terrible time. Please be with their friends, who will be Your hands to hold them, Your shoulder to cry on, Your feet to help them, Your arms to lift them up. Lord, drive all fear and anger from their hearts, so they are able to hold onto the loving memories of a loving husband, father, brother, son, cousin, and friend. Help ease their pain, but never forget. Help them to feel Your presence today, this week, this month, the first holidays, and every day of their lives as they miss him. Help them to know that they can face tomorrow, and that life is worth living, just because You live. Amen.</b></i><br />
<br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Because He Lives</b> <i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b></b>(Verse 1)<br />
God sent his son<br />
They called him Jesus<br />
He came to love<br />
Heal and forgive<br />
He lived and died<br />
To buy my pardon<br />
An empty grave<br />
Is there to prove<br />
My Savior lives<br />
<br />
(Chorus)<br />
<b>Because he lives<br />I can face tomorrow<br />Because he lives<br />All fear is gone<br />Because I know<br />He holds the future<br />And life and is worth the living<br />Just because he lives</b><br />
<br />
(Verse 2)<br />
How sweet to hold<br />
A newborn baby<br />
And feel the pride<br />
And joy he gives<br />
But greater still<br />
The calm assurance<br />
This child can face<br />
Uncertain days<br />
Because he lives<br />
<br />
(Chorus)<br />
<br />
(Verse 3)<br />
<b>And then one day<br />I'll cross the river<br />I'll fight life's fi-<br />Nal war with pain<br />And then as death<br />Gives way to victory<br />I'll see the lights<br />Of glory and<br />I'll know he lives</b><br />
<br />
(Chorus 2xs)</div>
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<br /></div>crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-7637041652121656102012-04-16T08:00:00.000-05:002012-08-10T19:52:53.411-05:00One Year<i>I wasn't sure how I would feel today. And I'm still not quite sure. I actually wrote most of this a few days ago because I wasn't sure if the words would come to me today. But actually sharing this post is more difficult than I thought it would be....</i> <br />
<br />
One year ago this morning we woke up, not knowing what the day would bring. We went through our day, our normal Saturday routine. We were excited for our date night. The kids were excited their Nonnie and Pops were coming to babysit. <br />
<br />
<br />
One year ago today our lives were forever changed. It took only an instant. But that instant will last a lifetime. <br />
<br />
<b>What a difference a day makes.</b><br />
<br />
<br />
I just re-read the <a href="http://adventuresofacrispymama.blogspot.com/2011/08/41611.html" target="_blank">post</a> I wrote about 4 months after the accident detailing the events of that night. It was hard to read. I think even harder than writing it. That night changed everything. That night.... <br />
<br />
<b>April 16, 2011.</b> <br />
<br />
A date that I will never forget. I've spent a lot of time reflecting over the events of the last year. The good times, and the bad. There has been pain, both physical and emotional. A total of 6 surgeries, and bad reactions to the anesthesia and pain meds. Nearly 6 months of painful physical therapy. And it's not over. I return to the doctor next week to check the fibula fracture, which I don't think is fully healed. There have been hard times with the kids, as they tried to process what happened. There has been anger, sadness, grieving, frustration. Mostly, there has been a lot of change. The reality that my leg will never be the same. Learning to deal with the chronic pain, and the fact that I can't do as much as I used to.<br />
<br />
Despite all of that, the moments that stand out most to me are good ones.<br />
<br />
Riley coming to visit me on Easter at the hospital. He brought me some of his candy, and a bunny for me to sleep with.<br />
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<br />
<br />
My family and friends who were there for our family. <br />
<br />
The meals that were brought to our house.<br />
<br />
My mom moving in with us for 5 months, even though it was difficult on my parents (she had to quit her job, and my dad had to pack, move, and unpack on his own).<br />
<br />
The prayers and support from people I've never even met.<br />
<br />
<br />
The flowers from the family of the girl who hit us that I received in the hospital.<br />
<br />
Encouraging words, thanking me for sharing our story.<br />
<br />
Learning to forgive.<br />
<br />
Riley and Eli celebrating birthdays, and growing closer each day. And yes, this includes fighting more, but they are best friends. Riley told me so.<br />
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<br />
Our niece being born (Ryan's sis and her hubby's baby).<br />
<br />
Going to visit my brother, sister-in-law, and my niece in California. <br />
<br />
Ryan and I spending our 5 year wedding anniversary in San Antonio, kid free. <br />
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<br />
Thanksgiving, when we had so much to be thankful for. Truly thankful. <br />
<br />
Christmas morning. I remember sitting there so incredibly thankful that I was able to see the pure joy on my kid's faces.<br />
<br />
Being able to celebrate a New Year.<br />
<br />
My 30th Birthday! Yes, I have good memories of turning 30.<br />
<br />
Another trip to visit my brother and his daughter in California. Only this time his wife was deployed to Afghanistan. :( But we had a fun trip to Sea World, the beach, and enjoyed watching the cousins play together!<br />
<br />
Shopping for baseball gloves with the boys. They had to try on the pink helmets, too. ;)<br />
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<br />
Getting a new tattoo. I wanted something to represent our accident, something that forever changed our lives. Ever since I've known Ryan, I have always said a quick prayer when he rides (whether I was with him or not) that God would send His angels to protect him/us (hence, the angel wings). Yes, we were hit. But <b>I still truly believe that God was there, holding us up, surrounding us with His love, grace, and mercy. He carried us through He DID protect us. He still is protecting us. And He always will protect us.</b> <br />
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<br />
<br />
I could go on and on. I have SO many wonderful memories. Some of them I was in a wheelchair, others on crutches, but I was<b> there</b>. I was able to enjoy those precious moments. <i>My foot is still part of my body, and I can walk. I can hug my kids and my husband.</i> I know I sound cheesy and sentimental now. But despite all of the bad, the <b>good</b> moments are what I will remember most. <br />
<br />
If I were to sum up the last year in one word, it would be <b>THANKFUL</b>. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-38010705355754456502012-02-12T16:14:00.001-06:002012-02-12T16:14:59.231-06:00Guilt.What is it about guilt? It seems to follow me everywhere. I have struggled with a few things recently, and guilt is the cause of that struggle. It is not easy to share these things with the world, but here goes...<br />
<br />
<br />
<em>I feel guilty for saying "Yes" to something because it takes time away from my family, and also myself. Or it causes me to neglect another area of my life.</em><br />
<br />
<em>I feel guilty for saying "No" to something, especially when it's something I'm passionate about. Especially when that something is good. (see my dilemma here?)</em><br />
<br />
<em>I feel guilty for feeling angry, hurt, and frustrated about the <a href="http://adventuresofacrispymama.blogspot.com/search/label/accident" target="_blank">accident</a>, resulting injuries, related family issues, and the long-term limitations I will have to deal with. </em><br />
<br />
<em>I feel guilty because I should just be thankful to be alive and that I can walk. It feels wrong to have those feelings when I could have lost my foot... or my life. </em><br />
<br />
<em>I feel guilty because those feelings are what I would have if I haven't truly forgiven the person who made a mistake. </em><br />
<br />
<br />
Guilt is a basic human emotion that we feel after doing something wrong. It is normal. We normally apologize to whomever we have wronged. But, why is it that I feel guilt when I haven't <em>done</em> anything wrong? And who to I apologize to if I haven't wronged anyone? Why is it that no matter what I do, guilt finds a way to gnaw at me, making me second guess everything? Why can't I just say "No" without that guilt? Why can't I just <em>feel</em> without that guilt? <br />
<br />
Satan plants that seed of guilt in my mind. He is trying to stop me from doing my best. He is trying to sabotage relationships. He is trying to stop me from doing good. He wants that guilt to stop me. He wants that guilt to pull me down and isolate me.<br />
<br />
I am learning to let go of that guilt. It's not easy. It keeps popping back up. <br />
<br />
I just attended an amazing Women's Retreat with ladies from a wonderful church! It was definitely a spiritual renewal. I finally allowed myself to admit that I need a lot of emotional healing after the accident. The physical is about as good as it's going to get. I accept that my leg will never be the same. But I refuse to allow my spirit to be held back because I allowed the guilt to prevent me from dealing with the emotions I have. <br />
<br />
One of the speakers addressed another area that I have been struggling with, <em>saying "No".</em> I have a hard time saying that 2 letter word to projects that I am passionate about. The speaker shared that saying "No" is not always saying "No" to God. That sometimes saying "No" is really saying "Yes" to Jesus! I needed to hear those words. I am now beginning to feel at peace with saying "No". <strong>I know that in saying "No" to some things, I am saying "Yes" to my family, myself, and to whatever God has in store for me. It is okay to say "No". And it's okay to <em>not</em> be able to do it all.</strong><br />
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I am also starting to accept the fact that<em> it is okay for me to feel hurt, angry, and frustrated</em> about the accident, and the last 10 months of our life. It is okay for me to feel those things about the future that will forever be changed because of the accident. <em> It does not mean that I am not thankful. It does not make me weak.</em> It only makes me stronger for admitting that I need God's comfort and healing. <br />
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Feeling hurt, angry, and frustrated also does not mean that I have not truly forgiven the young girl who hit us. Those feelings are not towards her in any way. They are about the situation, the life I had before, and the life that will forever be restricted. <strong> It pains me to know that I can't run and play with my kids.</strong> Every step I take is painful. You may not notice it, because I hide it well, and I have learned to deal with it. I accept that the physical pain is just part of my life now. Each step is a reminder of not only the physical pain, but the emotional pain, as well. My life will never be the same, in so many ways.<br />
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I feel like I am <em>mourning</em> the loss of the life we had before. The life where I could walk pain-free. Where I could run with my kids. Where my 4 year old son never had PTSD. Where we didn't have to deal with the emotional pain of what has happened in the last 10 months. I feel like I am mourning the loss of things I will not be able to do with my kids.<br />
<br />
Yes, there are many things I <em>can</em> do. But it is a fact that there are some things that I<em> can't</em>. And it is <em>okay</em> for me to feel hurt, angry, and frustrated about that. It is <em>okay</em> to mourn the things I can no longer do. <br />
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It is okay because I <em>am</em> still thankful. I <em>have</em> forgiven the driver. And I am still loved by the One who created me. The One who saved us (both spiritually and physically). The One who has greater plans for me. He is my rock and my salvation. <strong>God has told me it is okay to let that guilt go and give it to Him.</strong> <br />
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Jeremiah 29:11 - 13</div>
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<em>"<strong>'For I know the plans I have for you' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.</strong> Then you will call on me and come pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.'</em></div>
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<em>Psalms 28:7</em></div>
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<em><strong>"The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise him."</strong></em></div>
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<strong>How GREAT is our God!</strong></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/5pF11qnJ8rw?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-69159442658177509862012-01-22T17:38:00.001-06:002012-01-22T17:38:41.467-06:00It shouldn't be about business.I'm sitting here watching the <a href="http://www.businessofbeingborn.com/" target="_blank">Business of Being Born</a> for the first time. I've put it off, knowing that it would only confirm this nagging voice telling me that with the next birth, I do not want another c-section. I've finally sat down to watch it, and I was right. Less than 5 minutes into it, it just confirmed I want a midwife to deliver my next baby. And here I am writing this. Which I've also been putting off. <br />
<br />
Riley was born via c-section, after a scheduled induction. I was 38 weeks, 4 days pregnant. I had been dilated at a 2 for a couple of weeks, and having horrible back labor. I went in for an appointment at 38 weeks, and the doctor suggested scheduling the induction. I was so done at that point, that I agreed. I was uncomfortable. <br />
<br />
"I" being the key word. But in all honesty, I was fine with it. I was still hoping to hold off on the epidural as long as possible. I only wanted it as a last resort, for when I couldn't take the pain any longer. <br />
<br />
I went in early on the scheduled day. The IV with the pitocin drip was started at about 7:00 am. By 1:00 (or so, I don't remember exactly), I was dilated to "barely 4 cm". The doctor had broken my water a few hours earlier (which was <em>extremely</em> painful without any pain meds), but things weren't progressing as they liked. <br />
<br />
I asked for an epidural then, after they upped the pitocin, trying to speed things along. Well, labor stalled after that. I couldn't feel the contactions, thanks to the drugs. I watched them on a moniter. Around 5:45 pm, I was still at a 4, so the doctor recommended a c-section. He cited "failure to progress" as the reason. He also told me Riley's head was getting stuck in my pelvic bone. <br />
<br />
Riley was born at 6:15 pm in an operating room. The cord was wrapped around his neck, so it was a couple of minutes (<em>that felt like an eternity</em>) before we heard his cry. Once we did, it was the best sound in the world! I cried silent tears of joy. I still hold dear that moment when I heard him for the first time, and then a few minutes later when I saw him. As soon as they closed me up and took me back to my room, Riley was there waiting for me. I nursed him within minutes of returning to the room. He stayed in my room the entire stay at the hospital. I wanted him close so I could nurse on demand. And, I didn't want to be away from him.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm6ZD2ExAzFHk9pd3al1d1vrHhctvIpNJz_KymIFr1_VcMTgAKk5TQoFuAO52pIEPrzp9bX7Gy2RRWd7m2BUA5HUqHMFmnX5x8zB6Mzuw7cSb-ADKJlK5HGNW96AzpMZh5YSM4FCrHSVH5/s1600/Riley+birth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm6ZD2ExAzFHk9pd3al1d1vrHhctvIpNJz_KymIFr1_VcMTgAKk5TQoFuAO52pIEPrzp9bX7Gy2RRWd7m2BUA5HUqHMFmnX5x8zB6Mzuw7cSb-ADKJlK5HGNW96AzpMZh5YSM4FCrHSVH5/s320/Riley+birth.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riley, just minutes old in the OR.<br />He weighed in at 8 lb 2 oz!</td></tr>
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When I was pregnant with Elijah, I was unsure of what to do. I liked the idea of a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean), but I was scared something would go wrong. I was scared of going through the labor process, and still needing a c-section. I spoke to my ob/gyn about what to do (a different one, since we thought we were going to move at the time). She told me because of the circumstances of my delivery with Riley, that she would only do a scheduled c-section. <br />
<br />
I ended up changing back to the ob that delivered Riley when we realized we would not be moving. I spoke with him about what to do. He told me it was my decision. <em>Great. Now *I* had to be the one to decide.</em> Secretly, I was hoping he would just tell me so I wouldn't have to think about it. I wanted a VBAC, but I was scared. <br />
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<em>The fear won.</em> <br />
<br />
We scheduled a c-section for 11/11/09. Eight days before his due date. I kinda liked that day, it would be easy to remember. And it happens to be Veteran's Day. <br />
<br />
It was very different than the first birth. Very calm. A lot of waiting, not feeling at all like we were about to change our family forever. Eli was born at 8:03 am. Less than 2 hours after arriving at the hospital. His cry came almost immediately after he was out, and it was a very surreal moment. I was able to breastfeed him as soon as I returned to my room. But I was so out of it from the drugs that I ended up sleeping most of the morning. Eli was in the nursery most of that time. Which is not something I wanted, but I was so out of it, I couldn't really complain. That was the only time he was away from me, since we also "roomed in". <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh953rVrcrc_1uVKy7CHenpYkbnttT4qhwljby0Vy7KgVtcfOPD7NpoPunBrtErpNzDE_Dnxw4fEMEUXXkXmZK-oDsIFeSd63gd__wF6z6ACEAL8v1SzyTYAPTBvVgPZhRvooUPbvQhI7yx/s1600/Eli+birth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh953rVrcrc_1uVKy7CHenpYkbnttT4qhwljby0Vy7KgVtcfOPD7NpoPunBrtErpNzDE_Dnxw4fEMEUXXkXmZK-oDsIFeSd63gd__wF6z6ACEAL8v1SzyTYAPTBvVgPZhRvooUPbvQhI7yx/s320/Eli+birth.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elijah, seconds old in the OR.<br />
He weighed in at 8 lb 10 oz!</td></tr>
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<br />
I can't go back and change anything about my 2 birth experiences. <em>I don't feel guilty about them, either. I don't feel cheated.</em> It is what it is. I was (and am) happy I had a healthy baby in my arms after each birth. Not all moms are so blessed. I won't be ashamed to tell the anyone about how my children came into this world.<br />
<br />
<strong>I'm not any less of a mom because I've had 2 c-sections. Nor do I love my babies any less.</strong><br />
<br />
At the time, I really didn't know any different than what has become the "norm" for births in America. I didn't know anyone who had a midwife instead of an OB. I didn't know anyone in real life who had a successful VBAC. Online, of course I read success stories. But those didn't feel real since they were just people behind a computer screen. <br />
<br />
But now I do. The cloth diaper community has opened my eyes to a whole new world of birth! Now I know there are midwives in this area that will do VBA2C's. I know people who have given birth in birth centers. And at home. And even at home unassisted, without a midwife. <br />
<br />
Before the<a href="http://adventuresofacrispymama.blogspot.com/search/label/accident" target="_blank"> accident </a>happened, we had discussed trying for #3 in the summer of 2011. Well, things didn't exactly work out they way we planned. Techically, I could get pregnant now if we wanted. I have been told my pelvic bone is all healed up, and there are no more surgeries anticipated. But we have been through so much in the last 10 months, both physically and emotionally, that we have decided to wait. My body is still healing. 6 surgeries in an 8 month span is hard on any body. I'm still trying to figure out my new "normal". We are trying to heal and move on after a life changing event. <br />
<br />
I don't know when we will have another baby. But I know our family is not complete just yet. For now, we will enjoy life! God has His own plans. <strong>We may not know what He has in store for us, but I know He will continue to bless us more than we deserve!</strong><br />
<br />
When we feel the time is right to have another baby, I want to see a midwife. I want to give birth in a birth center. I'm not quite sure of a home birth, especially after 2 c-sections. I would feel more comfortable not in my own home. Especially if we move to the country soon. <br />
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<em>I want to experience spontaneous labor. The anticipation of adding another child to our family. </em><br />
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<em>I won't let fear win again.</em><br />
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<strong>I want to experience birth the way it was meant to be.</strong><br />
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<br />crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-31314873091899312072012-01-09T16:59:00.000-06:002012-01-09T17:03:38.089-06:00This year WILL be better!<br />
Hello, old friends! It has been way too long since I've had a chance to sit down and write. I've missed it. So this post is kinda long, playing catch up. But I've included pics of my cute boys to make up for it!<br />
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A lot has happened in the last few months, including 3 major holidays, Eli's 2nd birthday, knee surgery, lots of physical therapy, my uncle passed away after a sudden stroke, Ryan's great-uncle passed away, my computer crashed, the<a href="http://www.dfwclothdiaperproject.org/" target="_blank"> DFW Cloth Diaper Project</a> officially launched, and the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/DFWClothDiaperGroup" target="_blank">DFW Cloth Diaper Group</a> has grown to nearly 1,000 "likes". Oh, and Ryan went on his first ride since the accident. It was for a great cause, a motorcycle toy ride, but my nerves were beyond frayed that day. All this on top of the normal daily routine with 2 young kids. Things have been hectic, to say the least.<br />
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Things got so busy we didn't even have an actual party for Eli, just a fun family lunch at Babe's Chicken House! Riley ate 7 pieces of smoked chicken and a cupcake. Eli loved all the attention!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfo7WTRN9s-K4X3H7jZDa7rl1Qo4Xe0nXWkhh7hQpIyz0NflH56CbOFoG0IPChNjxNZKeGo3pl9PWtCjmY6noMrMH2QLDvaVcmdWiduKu3Y66SevtNKpFp2lMJmdGjwkiyCwmprNySyYqu/s1600/mmmm+Chicken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfo7WTRN9s-K4X3H7jZDa7rl1Qo4Xe0nXWkhh7hQpIyz0NflH56CbOFoG0IPChNjxNZKeGo3pl9PWtCjmY6noMrMH2QLDvaVcmdWiduKu3Y66SevtNKpFp2lMJmdGjwkiyCwmprNySyYqu/s320/mmmm+Chicken.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is piece #6. It really is that good.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqtQVn6rTx8voNY7iRBgWwySHhfTYm5BVT7VWBuTTZKUoJXXKoxjnRgFNyZt81O5ECjH6piU4CVqAQJEwXKAltAGAUX9XZkdThxmZfsNFYoAqLEgrnPi1un3iUa4O2NTRmJnkkB4kptQ-Q/s1600/happy+birthday+eli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqtQVn6rTx8voNY7iRBgWwySHhfTYm5BVT7VWBuTTZKUoJXXKoxjnRgFNyZt81O5ECjH6piU4CVqAQJEwXKAltAGAUX9XZkdThxmZfsNFYoAqLEgrnPi1un3iUa4O2NTRmJnkkB4kptQ-Q/s320/happy+birthday+eli.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Birthday, Sweet Eli!</td></tr>
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Yes, I mentioned more surgery. Which makes #6 in an 8 month span. This one was on the knee. I finally went to see about it (since 2.5 months of PT didn't help as much as it should have). They did an MRI and scheduled more PT. After 4 additional weeks of PT, the doctor told me I had 3 choices:<br />
<br />
1. Live with the pain. <em>Yeah, not happening.</em><br />
2. Try more physical therapy. <em>Um, I've had a total of 3.5 months on it, 2-3 x's a week. It's not better.</em><br />
3. Do orthoscopic surgery to fix the tiny tear he <em>thinks</em> he saw on the MRI. <br />
<br />
So surgery it was. On December 9 (just 2 weeks before Christmas), I had my knee scoped, and it was the best decision! I am exactly one month out of surgery, and my knee is <em>world's</em> better! I have a general soreness from surgery, but the sharp pain is gone. <strong> I can walk through the store without feeling like somebody is stabbing me in the knee with each step.</strong> He sutured a partial tear in the medial meniscus. And also "filed" down some scar tissue on one of the bones. It feels like my knee will be somewhat "normal" again once it's fully healed. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitDjor3nI9W4OBZfZSRJA9qdmLVvngsBd_U2-UpeAjRIK9P9xhkDjKfiEmxuiedBFTKaD_sAj7SHNqBjJb2pdADJZmzhDLWfhEPiMF42rFE_f_2J5aovtwCsqQk9jhJof9t0C97EKCByYC/s1600/knee+surgery+12-9-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitDjor3nI9W4OBZfZSRJA9qdmLVvngsBd_U2-UpeAjRIK9P9xhkDjKfiEmxuiedBFTKaD_sAj7SHNqBjJb2pdADJZmzhDLWfhEPiMF42rFE_f_2J5aovtwCsqQk9jhJof9t0C97EKCByYC/s320/knee+surgery+12-9-11.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left knee a couple days post-op.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhViDCWE222ikpezKCOzw_NmwNsw0sfIx1AQyV1bo2AzzCfCYnCMIj0Bx4rWZHGhOLRC75l1EZHXiCBSuDAcsiMa4xSxAQxjLNaR2SRLb9Z3HXzEKuWUzTwIxSb8c4IeOnV3pE2aqvhI1y0/s1600/bone+scarring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhViDCWE222ikpezKCOzw_NmwNsw0sfIx1AQyV1bo2AzzCfCYnCMIj0Bx4rWZHGhOLRC75l1EZHXiCBSuDAcsiMa4xSxAQxjLNaR2SRLb9Z3HXzEKuWUzTwIxSb8c4IeOnV3pE2aqvhI1y0/s320/bone+scarring.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scarring on the bone before he filed it down.</td></tr>
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I just finished the last of my PT. I am done, and it feels so strange. Only one more doctor's appointment, a follow up on my knee (which the doctor said is looking great!). And then I will be completely done!! It feels so freeing to be (almost) done with all of the appointments. I've had 4 different doctors (orthopedic surgeon, plastic surgeon, podiatrist, and a sport's medicine doctor; and one awesome physical therapist!). Am I completely back to how I was before? No. And I never will be. <br />
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The long term effects are now apparent. <strong>I can't squat</strong>. At all. My ankle just won't bend. And my physical therapist told me that while it's not impossible, <strong>it will be very difficult for me to be able to run again.</strong> Not that I'm a runner, or do frequent marathons (ok, none). But I've always thought that maybe someday I would do one. Just to prove I could. But chances of that happening are small. At least, running one. I could always walk it. I'm not even concerned about that. My focus is more on the simple things, like <em><strong>What if my kid runs to the street or parking lot and I can't chase them?</strong></em> I can't do that. And it's frustrating.<strong> And scary. </strong></div>
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When I returned to PT for my knee and ankle in November, I got a special splint that will help the range of motion in my ankle. It helps some, but not a lot. The biggest problem is I can't walk in it. That's impossible with kids. So, the best time to wear it is when I'm sleeping. But it's uncomfortable, and I can't sleep with it on. Ideally, I should wear it 12 hours a day for maximum benefit. That doesn't happen. I'm lucky if I wear it 2. The PT said to use it for a couple more months before returning it. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzP-g9pb-UQKObh1IeSMQs2Z8sHoURZktQ7cMFAgamrxytFLMB70qcoQh1VU6V-jpgYWtvImy2mgHck7zl7wohe_CYqib1gMrZOTpqlWd69txIH5kXRrjog6duY6m1LZOMHQ2G1lb09i0W/s1600/shoe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzP-g9pb-UQKObh1IeSMQs2Z8sHoURZktQ7cMFAgamrxytFLMB70qcoQh1VU6V-jpgYWtvImy2mgHck7zl7wohe_CYqib1gMrZOTpqlWd69txIH5kXRrjog6duY6m1LZOMHQ2G1lb09i0W/s320/shoe.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wore this stylish shoe for a couple months before seeing about my knee. <br />
It kept all pressure off my heel so the one spot where the skin graft didn't <br />
"take" could heal properly. Skin grafts on the heel are a tricky thing.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsZEqiHGXlogLP_Fg01536tP1KWd1aWpIS4r9jKWLKPB8YbQrHOPYg_ayEJXKJBPHC1so8MlELe_X64zKB6dSDchYQ8XN4mygUCA37JxFR8-bHDrHOEwfXKujBDVBhUtbsXJQrrunpiE4m/s1600/splint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsZEqiHGXlogLP_Fg01536tP1KWd1aWpIS4r9jKWLKPB8YbQrHOPYg_ayEJXKJBPHC1so8MlELe_X64zKB6dSDchYQ8XN4mygUCA37JxFR8-bHDrHOEwfXKujBDVBhUtbsXJQrrunpiE4m/s320/splint.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The not-so-awesome-and-very-uncomfortable ankle splint I get to wear.</td></tr>
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I am finally feeling like I can do some things without great pain. Like cooking and light cleaning. Picking things up is hard, since I can't squat. But I like that I feel well enough to do this stuff. Only problem is, I'm out of the habit. It's been 9 months since the accident. <strong>I'm having to figure out my new "normal".</strong> I can't physically function the same as before, but it really won't improve much more. So I just have to figure it all out, and deal with any discomfort. <strong> It's not easy</strong>.<br />
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Today I took the kids to the mall to get a haircut, eat lunch, and let them play. It's cold and wet outside, so I thought I'd let them run off some energy. Eli was super cranky. I forgot the stroller wasn't in the car. I didn't worry, since I figured we'd just get a mall stroller. But the atm wasn't working, and the machine only took cash. I had 3 $1 bills. It cost $5. So, no stroller. Eli wanted me to carry him. The whole time. Not only is he heavy (about 33 lbs), but the extra weight still hurts my leg. I can only tolerate carrying him for a few minutes. If I didn't carry him, he stood there screaming. If I carried him, it hurt. I was frustrated, as eyes started at me as if I was torturing my child, that I couldn't carry him easily. Normally, I don't let the stares bother me. But today it did.<strong> I felt like a bad mom because I can't carry my child without pain. </strong> I know, I'm not really a bad mom. But it's still frustrating that I can't carry him when he wants/needs a little extra comfort. <br />
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I'll figure it out. I know I will, and these frustrations will be a thing of the past. I'm still so thankful that Ryan and I did not die in that accident. I'm also thankful that I still have my foot. And that I can walk. And hold my kids and watch them grow and learn each day. My heart aches when I think about what could have happened. <strong>God has blessed us beyond what we deserve!</strong> He has been right here with us the whole time, giving us the strength and comfort we need. I still need that strength and comfort. I think the end of this chapter in our lives has been harder than the beginning. <br />
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I was sad on Saturday as I watched Ryan and the boys play Hide and Go Seek in the yard. I wanted to run and chase after them, and I was reminded of what I won't be able to do with my kids. I almost feel as if I'm mourning the loss of my old "normal" life, when I had no restrictions on what I could do. But when I get a little down about this, I just need to look at 2 wonderful little faces to remind me of how truly blessed I am. <strong> I may not be able to run after them, but they can run to me. And for that, I am thankful. And my heart is full.</strong> <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheKRW2mD5DBrhZzzrLBJCGsXrntIKg-FwF4VqiYluzi5Zcbi0uVPNyuhxNilGJdJnmXO-UeJukUS4ck8_FD4QTZy3kaT9wOFeS5l-qxxmYXFhRjgpoPzvJyIeBHbOTZ9MBKlxHsgFfK8-i/s1600/family+pic3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheKRW2mD5DBrhZzzrLBJCGsXrntIKg-FwF4VqiYluzi5Zcbi0uVPNyuhxNilGJdJnmXO-UeJukUS4ck8_FD4QTZy3kaT9wOFeS5l-qxxmYXFhRjgpoPzvJyIeBHbOTZ9MBKlxHsgFfK8-i/s320/family+pic3.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-34675886354488674532011-10-24T14:06:00.000-05:002011-10-28T17:05:59.878-05:00Babytique Review and GIVEAWAY!! -- CLOSED<div style="text-align: right;">
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<strong>GIVEAWAY IS NOW CLOSED. WILL ANNOUNCE THE WINNER AS SOON AS THEY CONTACT US. THANKS FOR PLAYING!</strong><br />
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Last week I visited <a href="http://mybabytique.webs.com/index.htm">Babytiqu</a>e, a chic baby boutique with Mama Earth in mind! I found an array of adorable baby items, from cloth diapers, to eco-friendly toys, to the softest crib bedding I've ever touched! Babytique is the very first brick and mortar store to carry the <a href="http://www.notfindingout.com/store/home.php">Not Finding Out</a> line of products.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The space for classes & baby showers!</td></tr>
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Babytique offers space for baby showers (how easy and fun is that?!). They offer fun classes through out the month on various parenting topics. For the most up-to-date information, visit their <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/babytique/253342634442">Facebook</a> page!<br />
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I was offered a $25 gift card for doing a review of their store. I wandered around, with the help of my boys, to decide what to get. Well, Riley and Eli decided for me! They had their hearts set on the<a href="http://www.notfindingout.com/store/product.php?productid=16940&cat=283&page=2"> Twilight Sea Turtle</a>. It has been a big hit! They love laying in their beds watching the stars.<br />
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If you have not heard of Not Finding Out, it is an amazing concept! As more and more parents are deciding to keep their upcoming baby's gender a surprise, their family and friends have a difficult time finding gifts. Not Finding Out has a unique way of offering shower gifts without the traditional yellow ducks and green frogs. <br />
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While shopping at Babytique, you can pick out an item, like these adorable <a href="http://www.notfindingout.com/store/product.php?productid=16976&cat=253&page=1">knit booties</a>. You will walk out of the boutique with a gift box, which includes a card with a photo of the item. Once the baby arrives, the new parents can visit Babytique to pick up their blue or pink gift! <br />
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Here are some of the great products you will find at Babytique!</div>
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GIVEAWAY IS <strong><span style="color: red;">CLOSED.</span></strong></div>
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<strong>Babytique has offered a $25 gift certificate for one of my fans! To enter, you must do the following. Leave<em> ONE comment per person</em>, stating that you have done each of these things:</strong> </div>
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1. Follow my blog via Google Friend Connect.</div>
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2. "Like" Adventure's of A Crispy Mama on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1357613045#!/AdventuresOfaCrispyMama">Facebook</a>.</div>
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3. "Like" Babytique on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1357613045#!/pages/babytique/253342634442?sk=wall">Facebook</a>. </div>
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4. Go to Babytique's <a href="http://mybabytique.webs.com/index.htm">website</a> and share with us your favorite item!</div>
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<strong>The winner will be drawn via random.org on Friday, October 28, 2011 at 5:00 pm CST and announced on my Facebook page. The winner will have 48 hours to email me at dfwclothdiapergroup at hotmail dot com to claim their prize.</strong> </div>
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<em>Disclaimer: I was offered a $25 gift card to do this review and giveaway. All opinions are completely honest.</em> </div>
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</div>crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-54089163169184162872011-10-05T15:53:00.000-05:002011-10-05T15:53:11.676-05:00Call me crazy...I wasn't able to sleep last night, so I figured I would utilize the quiet time and get some work done on the <a href="http://www.dfwclothdiapergroup.com/dfw-cloth-diaper-project.html"><span style="color: #469c4d;">DFW Cloth Diaper Project</span></a>. As I thought about everything that needs to be done, I became a little overwhelmed. This, is in addition to family life, church, both global and local committees for the 2012 <a href="http://greatclothdiaperchange.com/"><span style="color: #469c4d;">Great Cloth Diaper Change</span></a>, the <a href="http://www.dfwclothdiapergroup.com/index.html"><span style="color: #469c4d;">DFW Cloth Diaper Group</span></a> (which has 2 monthly meetings, and a very active <a href="http://www.facebook.com/DFWClothDiaperGroup"><span style="color: #469c4d;">Facebook</span></a> page), and recovering from the motorcycle accident. Any one of those things is a job in and of itself. I sometimes think I have lost my mind.<br /><br /><strong>So, why do I do all of this?</strong><br /><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV0h7gcj45rvg57YAFIzEExaeqjnWF0ggsM32YpUkFsATwAW6Aj4v2xCFKj5g-KjKrRwKVaBAP1Md181fi-xrJHhLtK_N4ZdAcsxYCw2r4TSLqPmcSy6yEj23j2LfHoBkyhyphenhyphen6U1etsrqrG/s1600/dfwcdg+logo+-+blue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV0h7gcj45rvg57YAFIzEExaeqjnWF0ggsM32YpUkFsATwAW6Aj4v2xCFKj5g-KjKrRwKVaBAP1Md181fi-xrJHhLtK_N4ZdAcsxYCw2r4TSLqPmcSy6yEj23j2LfHoBkyhyphenhyphen6U1etsrqrG/s1600/dfwcdg+logo+-+blue.jpg" /></a>When I started the Cloth Diaper Group in August 2010, my hope was to meet a few local families with similar interests. While visiting online cloth diaper forums, the common theme was that everyone felt alone in their choice to cloth diaper. They felt isolated when their family and friends disapproved of their choice to do what they felt was best for their family. While I didn't feel this way (I knew a few people in real life who also cloth diapered), I thought it would be fun to have a local group. So, I started one, unsure of where it would lead. </div>
<br />It was a slow start, with only 1 person at our very first meet up (followed by no one at the next 4 meet ups). But in January of 2011, we grew to 100 members! Suddenly, people showed interest in this little group that I almost regretted starting. We had about 15 mama's and their babies at that meet up!! Now we have nearly 800 "likes" on Facebook (and a <em>very</em> busy page!) and <em>two</em> monthly meet ups. I am blown away, and deeply humbled, by how amazing the group is now. It is more than I had ever imagined. I am learning as I go with the group, as I have never done anything like this before. <br /><br />
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I had hopes of what the group would become, but I never thought it would be a reality. In April 2011, we participated in setting a Guinness World Record (tm) for the most simultaneous cloth diapers changes around the world! A global event to promote the use of cloth diapers, and we were part of it. How cool is that?! </div>
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The DFW Cloth Diaper Project seed was planted in my heart a little over a year ago. I was in line behind a young woman at the store. She had two young kids with her, and only a few items in her cart. She had food stamps, but did not have enough cash for the food and diapers in her cart that the food stamps did not cover. She stood there, trying to decide what to put back. I told the cashier to add something to my bill, but she ignored me. I asked her again, but she refused to ackowledge me. The young girl made her decision and rushed out of the store. I knew even if I purchased her abandoned food, I would never find her by the time I got to the parking lot. It broke my heart to think that she had to choose between food and diapers. </div>
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I contacted someone at a local non-profit about possibly leading classes on cloth diapers. The idea was not supported, though, since they didn't feel their clients would be disciplined enough to follow through. So I shelved the idea for awhile. In the spring of 2011, I had the idea to start the Project for a program that helps homeless teen moms. In the end, that did not work out. But the idea was there, and we are moving forward, though in a different direction than originally planned. We will soon be accepting applications for those who are unable to afford both diapers and their household bills. <br /><br /><strong>I was overwhelmed with how the DFW Cloth Diaper Group responded to this little idea. Diapers were sent to me in boxes and bags to be used for the families. We even hosted an online auction to raise money for the Project, where we raised over $350!!!</strong> <br /><br />I have a passion for sharing the "fluffy love" that has become part of my life. It has not only given me a hobby, but it has been a great way to meet the most wonderful people! I have the opportunity to share something that is not only better for our babies, but for our planet and our bank accounts! <strong>Imagine, the very first disposale diapers ever made are still in landfills across the globe. What kind of world does that leave our grandchildren and <em>their</em> grandchildren?</strong> We did not start using cloth diapers for environmental reasons, but it has become a reason to continue using them.<br /><br />I do what I do because it has been placed on my heart to help those around me in my community. It just so happens that it is fun! I am not paid a penny for any of this, though it sometimes feels like a full time job. I seriously love what I do. <br /><br /><strong>Even if I do feel a little insane sometimes.</strong><br /><br /><br /><em>Fortunately, there are some wonderful people who share the same passion for cloth diaper advocacy that help me out! I could not do any of this without them. They keep me sane, simply by knowing they are there to help. A very special thanks to Elise of <a href="http://babyreargear.com/"><span style="color: #469c4d;">Baby Rear Gear</span></a> for taking everything over last minute for the Great Cloth Diaper Change 2011, since I was in the hospital and unable to attend the event. She did an amazing job, and it could not have happened without her. I also want to thank Lori (<a href="http://thegnomesmom.com/"><span style="color: #469c4d;">the Gnome's Mom</span></a>) and Tara of <a href="http://www.diapersolutions.org/"><span style="color: #469c4d;">Diaper Solutions</span></a> for serving on the Project Committee. I am in the process of creating a committee for the 2012 Great Cloth Diaper Change, so I want to thank all of you in advance for doing your part in being advocates for modern cloth diapers! </em><br /><br /><em>I also want to thank each and every member of the DFW Cloth Diaper Group and all of our <a href="http://www.dfwclothdiapergroup.com/local-cd-shops.html"><span style="color: #469c4d;">local cloth diaper shops</span></a>. You are all amazing! Just by doing what you do, you are making this world a better place. </em><em>Yes, that sounds cheesy and mushy, but it is true. So, thank you! </em><br />crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-70517058798876411032011-09-27T21:01:00.001-05:002011-09-27T21:01:39.142-05:00I was just a biker.I saw you hug your purse closer to you in the grocery store line. <em>But you didn't see me put an extra $10.00 in the collection plate last Sunday. </em><br />
<br />
I saw you pull your child closer when we passed each other on the sidewalk. <em>But you didn't see me playing Santa at the local mall. </em><br />
<br />
I saw you roll up your window and shake your head when I drove by. <em>But y<span class="text_exposed_show">ou didn't see me, driving behind you when you flicked your cigarette butt out the car window. </span></em><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I saw you frown at me when I smiled at your children. <em>But you didn't see me when I took time off from work to run toys to the homeless. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I saw you stare at my long hair. <em>But you didn't see me and my friends cut ten inches off for Locks of Love.</em> </span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I saw you roll your eyes at our leather coats and gloves. <em>But you didn't see me and my brothers donate our old coats and gloves to those that had none. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I saw you look in fright at my tattoos. <em>But you didn't see me cry as my children were born and have their name written over and in my heart. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I saw you change lanes while rushing off to go somewhere. <em>But you didn't see me going home to be with my family. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I saw you complain about how loud and noisy our bikes can be. <em>But you didn't see me when you were changing the CD and drifted into my lane. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I saw you yelling at your kids in the car. <em>But you didn't see me pat my child's hands, knowing he was safe behind me. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I saw you reading the map as you drove down the road in the rain. <em>But you didn't see me get soaked to the skin so my son could have the car to go on his date. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I saw you run the yellow light just to save a few minutes of time. <em>But, you didn't see me trying to turn right. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I saw you cut me off because you needed to be in the lane I was in. <em>But you didn't see me leave the road</em>. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I saw you waiting impatiently for my friends to pass. <em>But you didn't see me. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I saw you go home to your family. </span><span class="text_exposed_show"><em>But you didn't see me. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"><em>Because I died that day you cut me off. </em></span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"><em>I was just a biker.</em></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show"><strong>I have recently seen this floating around Facebook. I do not know who the author is, or I would love to credit them. </strong></span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show"><strong>Bikers are some of the best people I have ever met, who would give you the shirt off their backs.</strong></span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show"><strong>Please keep your eyes open on the road. That person you don't see has a family, too.</strong></span></div>
crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-4269616964793168032011-09-02T14:50:00.000-05:002011-09-02T14:50:09.858-05:00I Flip'd out!Riley woke me (and Eli) up at 7:15 this morning by yelling, not really sure what was so important. So by 9:00 am we were dressed and ready to run some errands. I realized when we got to the second stop that I left the diaper bag at home.<br />
<br />
<em>Uh oh.</em><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7fHS7PM4zUFkgt-8iN8Wby7x14I7-cZ1uLV8MZZQlu7gFZtaPcgkVXMuMbjotgrKzcOSnf61H-yq_1Ov3c9Ah-qSP_YSXX7WM8VFyvrJUyEi-6l3UmRZsD77DK7RwWalkfZu9HYBfiLSi/s1600/diaper+bag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7fHS7PM4zUFkgt-8iN8Wby7x14I7-cZ1uLV8MZZQlu7gFZtaPcgkVXMuMbjotgrKzcOSnf61H-yq_1Ov3c9Ah-qSP_YSXX7WM8VFyvrJUyEi-6l3UmRZsD77DK7RwWalkfZu9HYBfiLSi/s320/diaper+bag.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The fully stocked diaper bag... sitting at home alone.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But I saw I had the trusty back up <a href="http://www.flipdiapers.com/index.php">Flip</a> cover and 2 stay dry inserts in the car, so I knew we were fine. The disposable wipes I keep in the car as backup were dried up, but I knew I could just use wet paper towels if/when I needed to change his diaper. <br />
<br />
After a couple errands, we had lunch at In N Out Burger. Yum! The boys ate well, and drank lots of lemonade. Then off to the mall to play for the boys to run off some of their boundless energy.<br />
<br />
I changed Eli into the <a href="http://www.flipdiapers.com/index.php">Flip</a> cover and 1 stay dry insert, and put the extra insert in my purse. Just in case. I didn't think we'd need it. After all, they were just going to play for a bit before going home.<br />
<br />
Fast forward 20 minutes when I smell something stinky when E came to get a drink. But I knew we had the extra Flip insert, so we were okay. A quick change in the family restroom and a "borrowed" bag from Gymboree, and the boys were playing again in no time! Crisis averted.<br />
<br />
It was almost time to leave when I smelled it again. I checked, hoping it was another kid, but I knew it was Eli.<br />
<br />
Okay, <em>now what?</em> <em>I don't have any blankets or shirts in the car, but we are at a mall....</em><br />
<br />
We went over to Sear's, bought some receving blankets, and I changed Eli again. I just pad folded a blanket like a flat cloth diaper and reused the same Flip cover (which was still clean enough to use -- no poop got on it!). And now we have some uber cute "flats"!<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv2hfHrwwALh37AsBcx-bNowzYWi38hEezzoOXOGOxwMN_Ht_uaqbaTDw_iFk9MRhDvm-xAKVg4qTTySIZymq9yxqT9IQA-asO5ZygPp7OGnT10n8c_xTIbY6s9dXX9H0jq6aikO09ufJe/s1600/blankets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv2hfHrwwALh37AsBcx-bNowzYWi38hEezzoOXOGOxwMN_Ht_uaqbaTDw_iFk9MRhDvm-xAKVg4qTTySIZymq9yxqT9IQA-asO5ZygPp7OGnT10n8c_xTIbY6s9dXX9H0jq6aikO09ufJe/s320/blankets.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three of the four adorable new "flats" we have.<br />
Bonus: they were on sale!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I called Ryan on the way home and told him how glad I am we cloth diaper! Our day would not have been so productve otherwise.<br />
<br />
If we still used disposables, I'm not sure we would have finished running our errands today. Once I realized I left the diaper bag at home, I probably would have just gone home. If we had made it as far as the mall, I know I could have asked someone at the play area for a diaper. But we would have gone straight home after the first offense. Instead, they got to stay to play! <br />
<br />
Making the switch to cloth diapers has made me realize that there are so many things that can work in a pinch! <strong>Blankets, towels, t-shirts, pretty much any cloth item!</strong> So if you're ever in a bind, be resourceful!<br />
<br />
From now on, I know that the one cover and 2 inserts are not enough. In addition to those, I will also keep several flats (either blankets or actual flats), cloth wipes, and a gallon ziploc bag in the car. Enough for a full day out in case I forget the diaper bag again.<br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>What have you used as a diaper in an emergency situation (of the real kind, or like my situation today)?</strong><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-13131442287372720752011-08-31T13:48:00.000-05:002011-08-31T13:51:06.709-05:00Wool: Part 1I have found a new love that I haven't even shared with you yet. It feels like forever that I've done a post on diapers. In fact, I wrote this last week and haven't had a chance to take some super cute pics to add to this, but that never happened. Time got away from me.<br />
<br />
So, you want to know what my new obsession has been for the last few months? <br />
<br />
Wool! I even love fitteds now, too. I wish I had listened to everyone sooner and tried wool long ago. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdzQiAs2fjiPDiBd3SoR6FofQpjjrYBk0ZeZbDvqsEEZoxouk-XFaRdkqlltY1cXV6CcyFQ7eeJcqkX3DT_9mCFMoumKuWNc0O8dtvjNw2Vmx9_bOKlAGoDm__lYDMNg8qu5DpE9U9XcU0/s1600/Eli+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdzQiAs2fjiPDiBd3SoR6FofQpjjrYBk0ZeZbDvqsEEZoxouk-XFaRdkqlltY1cXV6CcyFQ7eeJcqkX3DT_9mCFMoumKuWNc0O8dtvjNw2Vmx9_bOKlAGoDm__lYDMNg8qu5DpE9U9XcU0/s320/Eli+2.jpg" width="170" xaa="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">E wearing wahm knit shorties.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I had tried fitteds last year, but didn't really get the point of them. I tried them with PUL covers, and it was like putting on 2 diapers under his shorts. It was just too much. So in January, I tried another fitted, the Thirsties Duo Fab Fitted with a PUL cover for overnight. <a href="http://adventuresofacrispymama.blogspot.com/2011/03/a-word.html">That didn't turn out so well</a>. The microfiber caused major stink. So I sold them and moved on. I kept using a pocket with a gflapper, but wasn't very happy with it anymore. It seemed E needed something better for all night.</div>
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My wool love started with a visit to the <a href="http://swfortworth.jbfsale.com/pages/home">Just Between Friends Consignment Sale in Fort Worth</a> last spring. I found a pair of lightweight green wool shorties for $6(!). So I figured, <em>what the heck?</em> For $6 if I don't like them it's no big loss. Everyone had told me that wool and fitteds were bulletproof for overnight, but I was skeptical and wasn't sure about it. Wool is what I wear in the winter, so wouldn't they just be hot? We live in Texas, not Canada!<br />
<br />
<br />
I also thought that wool would be hard to care for. They have to be handwashed (I hate handwashing anything!). And lanolized. I thought that was just too much work. But for $6, I'd give it a try. In the back of my mind I just knew I wouldn't like it.<br />
<br />
I held on to the wool for several weeks before even opening the bag it came in. I finally did, and then lanolized them. I had bought some <a href="http://www.tinytush.com/Eucalan-Wool-Wash-_p_600.html">Eucalan</a> wool wash, and just used some spare Lansinoh brand lanolin that I had leftover from the early nursing days. I line dried them in the bathroom. I was surprised when they were still damp 2 days later. <br />
<br />
When they were finally dry, I put a spare fitted diaper that I had laying around under the wool. E didn't seem to mind it at all. I thought, <em>okay, maybe this isn't so bad</em>. When it came time to change his diaper, the wool was still dry on the outside. I guess I was a little skeptical and thought it wouldn't really be waterproof. But it was.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwEPJS5laemPyoE1YYaKEnb2PcDIVJvGTrtwMadKU-dpygclzswg8yWZ6frn7Lbjy5Qc3WG2tf8rWhi9H8b1trxDDRar65lDnrGThsV5_7KhFh6rGg0ce5OF7g2484Hb0yz5KeB_Ip9k4/s1600/April-May+2011+039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwEPJS5laemPyoE1YYaKEnb2PcDIVJvGTrtwMadKU-dpygclzswg8yWZ6frn7Lbjy5Qc3WG2tf8rWhi9H8b1trxDDRar65lDnrGThsV5_7KhFh6rGg0ce5OF7g2484Hb0yz5KeB_Ip9k4/s200/April-May+2011+039.JPG" width="200" xaa="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Interlock wool<br />
<a href="http://wildchildwoolies.com/">Wild Child Woolies</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
So I decided to break down and buy some wool and a fitted for overnight. At a trip to <a href="http://babiesbottomsandmore.com/">Babies Bottoms & More</a>, I bought a <a href="http://www.tinytush.com/Tiny-Tush-Organic-Wool-Soakers_p_516.html">Tiny Tush</a> wool cover and a <a href="http://www.tinytush.com/One-Size-Cloth-Diaper_p_486.html">Tiny Tush Trim fitted</a> diaper. I figured I would add a <a href="http://www.nappyshoppe.com/store/gflappers™-and-inserts-gflappers™-hemp-and-bamboo-c-68_640.html">gFlapper</a> to it and it would be good for overnight. </div>
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But I didn't get the chance to try it for a couple months. I didn't lanolize the wool right away, and then Ryan and I were in our <a href="http://adventuresofacrispymama.blogspot.com/2011/08/41611.html">motorcycle accident</a>. Life was turned upside down for awhile, and my mom took over diaper laundry. So E continued to wear a pocket with an added gflapper for overnight.<br />
<br />
Once I was feeling a little better, I lanolized the wool and waited the few days it took to dry (which is my biggest complaint about wool -- the long dry time). Then I put the Tiny Tush fitted on him (with the trusty gflapper) under the Tiny Tush wool. The next morning, I knew we had finally found the best night time option.<br />
<br />
<em>Why didn't I listen to everyone sooner?!</em><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
I immediately went on a search for new fitteds. I also bought my first <a href="http://sloomb.com/">Sustainablebabyish</a> (aka Sloomb, aka Sbish) <a href="http://sloomb.myshopify.com/collections/wool-covers/products/pre-order-sustainablebabyish-knit-wool-covers">wool</a> and <a href="http://sloomb.myshopify.com/collections/cloth-diapers/products/organic-bamboo-fleece-fitteds-natural">fitteds</a> (and <a href="http://sloomb.myshopify.com/collections/cloth-diapers/products/snapless-multi">this</a>, too!) from <a href="http://babyreargear.com/">Baby Rear Gear</a>. Elise, the owner, warned me that the Sbish sized fitteds run a little small, so I ordered the large. She was right, it does run small, but it is my favorite fitted for overnight!! I do not have to add any inserts, it is plenty absorbant enough for all night. I now have 3, and absolutely love them! The snapless multi is also very absorbant, and good for overnight (though I do add a gFlapper for that).</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxK48g1L0c1HWjkJsnfDWZjqRWwRCVQnKUud9N4z_LrUMC19rEaddachMxsH3DA9no0JSJeXeScwT0OOlHCeAT8KAKh2dgnGx8cA97zSeRNzV_dRLDDI-laWM3TLwCir96Ujjx4LVN5YTv/s1600/Fluffabebe+shorties.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxK48g1L0c1HWjkJsnfDWZjqRWwRCVQnKUud9N4z_LrUMC19rEaddachMxsH3DA9no0JSJeXeScwT0OOlHCeAT8KAKh2dgnGx8cA97zSeRNzV_dRLDDI-laWM3TLwCir96Ujjx4LVN5YTv/s320/Fluffabebe+shorties.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Custom Shorties by <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/FluffaBebe?ref=pr_shop_more">Fluffabebe</a>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
I have added to E's wool and fitted stash. In fact, I sold literally <em>half</em> of my stash of pockets and AIO's to make room for fitteds and wool. I found <a href="http://hyenacart.com/littlefancypants/">Little Fancy Pants fitteds</a>, which, next to Sbish, are my favorites. I also found <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/FluffaBebe?ref=pr_shop_more">FluffaBebe</a> woolies. She is local, and shared her brand new business when I asked on the <a href="http://facebook.com/DFWClothDiaperGroup">DFW Cloth Diaper Group's</a> page asking about wool. In fact, the green woolie and the shorties you see on her Etsy page belong to E:)</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
I do not find the wool hard to care for. In fact, it's easier than the diapers! While we are at home and at night, E wears fitteds and wool. Out of the house he still wears pockets or AIO's, since they fit better under his regular shorts. But in this heat, the wool is breathable and keeps his bottom cool. He's had some nasty rashes from his very acidic teething poo, and the fitteds with wool have helped clear those up quickly (with my favorite rash remedy, <a href="http://www.grandmaels.com/index.php">Grandma El's</a>!) since the heat is not trapped in the diaper.</div>
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
I'm glad I finally broke down and tried wool. My only regret is that I didn't try it sooner.</div>
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<strong>I will explain how to care for wool (complete with pics!) in an upcoming post!</strong></div>
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crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-34070659326831793252011-08-16T15:13:00.001-05:002011-08-18T17:25:16.528-05:004/16/11<em>This post is mainly for me. I debated keeping it in a private journal, but ultimately decided to share it here, for anyone who is interested.</em><br />
<br />
<em>This is my account of what happened the night of April 16, 2011. I still remember the details as if it just happened. Today is the 4 month mark since the accident. It's been a long, hard 4 months. I feel very blessed that I am still here to share this.</em><br />
<br />
<em><strong>WARNING: I will share some photos. Some are not very pleasant to look at. I will post them at the end, so if you do not want to see them, do NOT scroll to the bottom of the post.</strong></em><br />
<br />
<br />
Ryan and I hadn't had a date night in awhile, I'm not even sure exactly how long it had been. We asked Ryan's parents to come over and stay with the boys so we could have a night out. Riley was nearing 4 years, and Eli was 17 months. We wanted some time for us in our always hectic schedule.<br />
<br />
I had worked all day at the Nappy Shoppe. Ryan was home with the kids. Towards the end of the day at work, I stubbed my big toe, and it hurt like hell! When I got home to change for our night out, I decided to wear my flat slip on shoes, since my boots have a heel that hurt my toe too much to walk in them. Normally, I do wear boots while riding the motorcycle, but I didn't really think much of it. We were always safe, and I trusted Ryan 100%.<br />
<br />
It was a rush as I arrived home from work. The kids were excited that their grandparents came over, while Ryan and I tried to get ready. At some point I nursed Eli, who was down to just a few nursing sessions a day. I don't remember the details or the last time I nursed him. It was so routine, I didn't really think about how special our time was.<br />
<br />
Ryan and I told the boys goodbye, put on our leather jackets and helmets and hopped on the bike. I waved goodbye one last time as we drove off, with the kids and my inlaws watching and waving from our front yard. It was my first time riding with Ryan since before getting pregnant with Eli, so nearly 2 years.<br />
<br />
We went to dinner, then decided to take a ride around Grapevine. We had no plans other than to enjoy our date. We rode over the dam, then headed back to downtown Grapevine. I wanted to visit the wineries and buy a bottle of wine I had tried on my birthday. A couple hours later, we decided to head home, a bottle of a blackberry merlot in my purse, tucked under my arm.<br />
<br />
It wasn't even 11:00 pm, but I was tired after a long day. So I relaxed and enjoyed the ride, laying my head on Ryan's back, with my eyes closed most of the ride. Soon, we were just a few miles from home.<br />
<br />
A pick-up truck exited the tollway to merge with the service road, so Ryan changed lanes. We were now in the middle lane. He decided to stay there since there were only a couple of cars, both behind us. The left lane is left turn only, and the middle lane can either turn left or go straight.<br />
<br />
The light ahead was red, so Ryan and the other cars slowed down. As we approached, the light changed to green, so Ryan acccelerated and started to make the (legal) turn left. My eyes were closed again at this point. I was ready to be home so I could finally rest for the first time all day.<br />
<br />
The bike leaned for the left turn, and suddenly I felt the worst pain of my life. It was excrutiating. My immediate thought was <em>That car just tried going straight in a left turn only lane... </em>I didn't see it coming.<br />
<br />
The next thing I remember was laying on the ground, in the middle of the road, hearing Ryan calling out to me. I opened my eyes and saw him running toward me. In a state of shock, and fear that a car would run me over (I was in the middle of the intersection), he was yelling at me to get up.<br />
<br />
I tried lifting my legs and the pain hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn't do it. The pain, well, there are no words to describe how bad the pain was. I guess you could say it felt exactly how you would expect it to feel to have your leg crushed between a small SUV and a motorcycle. I rolled back and forth on my back, unable to stop. I yelled and cursed at how bad it hurt. I think I would have offended a sailor.<br />
<br />
Ryan was there, asking if I was okay. Then I heard 2 other voices, one male and one female. I never saw their faces. I was too distraught, in too much pain, and my motorcycle helmet blocked my view. The man talked to me, trying to calm me down and get me to lay still. I settled on my left side, clinging to the bottom of my full face helmet. I tried to focus, but I was scared, hurt, and trying not to completely freak out anymore.<br />
<br />
Ryan was behind me, and I kept asking if he was okay. He tried to reassure me he was fine, that he was concerned about me. I kept hearing the man and woman who stopped to help talking about how there was so much blood, they couldn't stop the blood. I honestly thought they were talking about Ryan. Later I found out it was mine. My left leg felt like every bone had been crushed into a million pieces from the knee down.<br />
<br />
It wasn't long before the ambulance arrived, only a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Once they arrived, things moved quickly. They took Ryan to an ambulance. I was put on the backboard while they worked on my leg. I didn't know what they were doing. I just felt pain. They moved me to a stretcher, and took me to the ambulance. Ryan was inside, waiting for the second ambulance to arrive. We kissed goodbye, and they took him to the hospital in the other ambulance. <br />
<br />
An officer asked if there was anyone they could call. I told them to call my inlaws, who were at home with my kids. And also my parents. I knew that this was the call every parent never wants to hear. And then it hit me just how hard this was going to be on my kids. How was this going to affect them? I was hurt, but I was worried for them. My heart ached and all I wanted to do was hold them. I also wanted Ryan there with me to hold my hand, but he wasn't. I felt so alone.<br />
<br />
I remember repeating <em>I can't believe this happend. We were just on a date How could this happen? </em>I was told by the paramedics that there was no pulse in my foot, and they had to do "something" before they could take me to the ER. I didn't know, or really care, what that "something" was. I didn't ask, just told them to do what they needed to do. They had started an IV at this point, but told me the pain meds wouldn't help with what they had to do. The paramedic next to me, who had started the IV, took my hand. I still had my helmet on, so I stared at the ceiling of the ambulance. I squeezed his hand tight, and I remember thinking, <em>That wasn't so bad.</em> At least not compared to how it felt since my leg was crushed. I don't think it could be any worse than it already was.<br />
<br />
They finally removed my helmet, and replaced it with a hard neck brace. So I was still unable to look around, much less down. I still had not seen what my leg looked like.<br />
<br />
In the ambulance, I apologized for all the cursing I had done. They told me I had a right to say whatever I wanted. I think a combination of the shock wearing off and the medication running through the IV, but I was finally feeling a little calmer and not so panicked. Talking helped, to try to distract me from what happened, and from the pain. I even joked about how earlier that day I was worried about jamming my big toe (which just happened to be on my left foot).<br />
<br />
Soon enough we arrived at the hospital. There were 2 hospitals closer, but this one had the trauma center level that could take care of me. I was later told that if we had been any further away by ambulance that I would have been careflighted to Dallas. <br />
<br />
They wheeled me into a room, where Ryan was laying on a gurney. There was medical equipment between us, but at least we were in the same room and could talk to each other. Doctors and nurses moved about, talking to me. They cut off my clothes, which were all brand new. The paramedics briefed them on what happened. I don't remember anything that they said. Except for one thing. They told the hospital staff that I had a bottle of wine in my purse that was crushed, so that's why they smelled alcohol. I'm sure Ryan and I both smelled completely drunk, though we weren't.<br />
<br />
The rest of the night is a blur of doctors and nurses talking to me, working on my leg, and a lot of waiting. I spoke with my parents on the phone, I think they said a prayer with me (but I honestly don't remember the exact conversation), and told me they'd be there in the morning. <br />
<br />
The morphine they gave me for pain wasn't doing much except make me nauseous. I even got sick a couple of times. They gave me something to help the nausea, but it didn't help.<br />
<br />
I cried a lot, thinking about how different things were going to be. I cried for my kids. I knew they were safe and just fine with my inlaws, but I still worried for them. Especially Eli. He was such a mama's boy, still nursing, and hated to be away from me. I worried about how he would do when he woke up and Ryan and I weren't there. I knew that our breastfeeding days were over. I worried about how Riley would handle seeing me in so much pain. I worried about how I could take care of my kids. Ryan was still on his gurney, so we couldn't even hold hands. And because of my neck brace I was unable to see him.<br />
<br />
I was taken to have CT scans done. They scanned my head, neck, back, legs... pretty much everything. Back in the ER, the doctor came and told me the news. He said the good (and very surprising) thing was that not a single bone in my ankle was broken. That was extremely shocking, since I fully expected it to be crushed. So did he. I had broken my left fibula and right pelvic bone. He then told me about what they call a "degloving". The skin and pad of my heel had been peeled off of my foot, exposing the heel bone and achilles tendon. They needed to clean it up and reattach it to my foot. Which meant surgery.<br />
<br />
They began stitching up Ryan's gash in his leg, but it was almost time for me to go to surgery. So they took me to a room somewhere, and soon after Ryan joined me. I had to throw away my contacts, so everything was fuzzy since I didn't have my glasses. My father in law would be bringing them soon, but he wouldn't be there until after I was taken back for surgery.<br />
<br />
I was still feeling nauseous. I even got sick. Morphine was not what it's cracked up to be. It's bad stuff.<br />
<br />
Around 7:00 am, they took me to the OR. I don't remember going. I just remember waking up in a room, with Ryan on the couch next to the bed. My left leg was propped up on pillows, my foot completely limp. The pain was still horrible, despite their attempts to give me enough medication to control it. A tube was attached to my foot. I found out later it was a wound vac.<br />
<br />
I slept most of the day, the anesthesia still in my system. I was thankful I was even alive. I found out in the next few days that it was a 16 year old girl who hit us. I also learned that my head smashed her windshield, which is the only part of the accident I don't remember. Thank God for helmets. If it weren't for the helmet, I wouldn't be able to share this story. <br />
<br />
The boys were brought up to see us later that day. Oh how I missed them! I knew it would be hard for them to see me in that condition, that it would probably scare them. But I also knew it would scare them more to not see me at all.<br />
<br />
Riley was quiet, but would sit next to me on the bed. Eli wouldn't come anywhere close to me. But at least he wasn't screaming and crying. I much preferred that he be happy away from me than not wanting to let go of me. I was nervous that he would want to nurse, and I wouldn't be able to. You can read more about the end of our breastfeeding journey <a href="http://adventuresofacrispymama.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-cant-believe-its-over.html">here</a>.<br />
<br />
Ryan stayed with me for the first several days, even though he was never admitted to the hospital. I'm glad he was there. It would have been much more difficult to be there, especially at night, by myself. I had another surgery on Wednesday, April 20. They had to put 2 screws in my ankle since a ligament broke due to the broken fibula. They placed another wound vac on, as well as a big heavy cast/splint. <br />
<br />
Our life has changed. Our lives as individuals, and our life as a family. It has been extrememly difficult, and while we have had our ups and downs, I believe we are stronger because of it. <br />
<br />
Ryan and I could have easily lost our lives that night. Riley and Eli could have been left without their parents. Eli wouldn't even remember us, and Riley would only remember bits and pieces. I thank God everyday that we are still here to hold our kids and to see them grow up into the amazing individuals I know they will be.<br />
<br />
I don't think the reality of the accident set in until 3 weeks later. I had been home for less than a week, but I wanted to help out my boss at an expo. I was feeling <em>okay</em> and ready to do something useful. So Ryan drove me to the mall and unloaded me in the wheelchair. I was asked the same question I have been asked about a million times since the accident: "What happened to you?" One woman in particular stands out. After I told her it was a motorcycle accident 3 weeks prior, she stopped, a look of realization on her face. She asked if it was at a certain intersection, and I said yes. My first thought was that she was the mother of the girl who hit us. I didn't know what I would say to her. Then she told me that her husband was a first responder, an off-duty police officer who saw it happen on his way home.<br />
<br />
He called his wife that night to tell her that he'd be late. He also told her that he thought it would be a fatlity accident.<br />
<br />
It hit me then just how bad things could have been. I hid my emotions, and told her to let her husband know that my husband and I would be fine! She was more than happy to be able to tell him that. But her words sank in. I couldn't even pick her face in a crowd because I lost myself in my thoughts once I heard those words. Again, I thought of my kids. And about how thankful I was.<br />
<br />
I believe the man who calmed me down was this woman's husband.<br />
<br />
<br />
Here I am, 4 months later, and facing one more surgery (#5). This will be an easy one, to remove the screws in my ankle. It is scheduled for Friday, 8/19/11. <em>(edited to add: surgery was rescheduled to Monday, 8/22.)</em> I've finally been able to start walking without the boot or my crutches in the last 2 weeks. Physical Therapy is going well, though it's hard. Despite the accident, life still moves on. The world does not stop because we were hit by a car. Riley turned 4. Ryan has a birthday this weekend. Our 5th wedding anniversary is in a few weeks. We have tried to live as normal life as possible. It's just been a new normal.<br />
<br />
I have been asked how I can have such a positive outlook through all of this. I answer that <a href="http://adventuresofacrispymama.blogspot.com/2011/05/walking-through-rocks.html">here</a>. I have dealt with people who somehow don't realize that someone, somewhere always has it worse than you. Despite the crappy things that have happened in the last few months, I know that there are many people right now who are facing much more difficult situations than I. I truly believe it's all a matter of <a href="http://adventuresofacrispymama.blogspot.com/2011/07/fml.html">perspective</a>. Yes, what happened to us was a horrible thing, but I will not dwell on the bad and what could have happened. I will focus on the <em>good </em>and what <em>didn't </em>happen.<br />
<br />
When I say certain things or write certain posts, it's not to be "holier than thou". It's because <strong>I want to use my experience to help others realize that life, no matter how bad at times, is a beautiful thing.</strong> Something bad happened to us. But I have always believed that God will make something beautiful out of something tragic. And I believe He is doing that now. If our story touches just one person, then sharing it has served it's purpose.<br />
<br />
<br />
Today I heard a song I haven't heard in awhile. So I thought I'd share.<br />
<br />
<br />
"If You're Going Through Hell" by Rodney Atkins<br />
<br />
<em>If you're going through hell</em><br />
<em>Keep on goin', don't slow down</em><br />
<em>If you're scared, don't show it</em><br />
<em>You might get out before the Devil even knows you're there</em><br />
<br />
<em>If you're going through hell</em><br />
<em>Keep on movin', face that fire</em><br />
<em>Walk right through it </em><br />
<em>You might get out before the Devil even knows you're there...</em><br />
<br />
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If you would like to read more about the months following the accident and how it has affected our family, you can read my posts <a href="http://adventuresofacrispymama.blogspot.com/search/label/accident">here</a>. I am always open to questions, so if you have any, feel free to post them in the comments or on my <a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?ref=home#!/AdventuresOfaCrispyMama">facebook</a> page. <br />
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<em>I have been asked by countless people to see pictures of my foot. <u><strong>If you are squeamish, you will want to close your browser now.</strong></u></em><br />
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<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEU10s3I9pmm8G7OGcFN09YF6LTqdx0uoHrMfp1ISySobCmALft5Tc45dw5n9egFO-ZPRkAvrQzSIiXnXDyhLvR1QsrTn8YWoIRe2diTCgtnPE3qXeaWGJvQ8Bp6qNqER7TppFB6HD3Eat/s1600/blog3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEU10s3I9pmm8G7OGcFN09YF6LTqdx0uoHrMfp1ISySobCmALft5Tc45dw5n9egFO-ZPRkAvrQzSIiXnXDyhLvR1QsrTn8YWoIRe2diTCgtnPE3qXeaWGJvQ8Bp6qNqER7TppFB6HD3Eat/s320/blog3.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ryan's deep gash, total of 10 stitches.<br />
He now has a scar, but it has healed well.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKyJaur9rcBu3DpyuIboa6xtLJkeYjbLcRpZhyphenhyphenUXCDrf8-aMYE0FQG9fEyuwrJE2_JIoFchdtpyGgg6YtpVNNXb4xWwCSxMgvRWG2jEQcU2npFCMyhaHpfBqY8g2VQkbPYnB7B3z5o4KxM/s1600/blog4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKyJaur9rcBu3DpyuIboa6xtLJkeYjbLcRpZhyphenhyphenUXCDrf8-aMYE0FQG9fEyuwrJE2_JIoFchdtpyGgg6YtpVNNXb4xWwCSxMgvRWG2jEQcU2npFCMyhaHpfBqY8g2VQkbPYnB7B3z5o4KxM/s320/blog4.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ryan's bruising, 2-3 days post accident.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUCoYyAPoZJXYJUbIBqC1ZpsrbzFQrb_HlXhc5IwCljlNgLmNFmCR8vgxTcBdz05vmuT1K9wLVYwrN9XwP1bKD_kvVKNLjG39JSPUwcD_BAYMXEHCaazUmA5U2NkHtKAMVwVvbMqCMMxc/s1600/blog1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUCoYyAPoZJXYJUbIBqC1ZpsrbzFQrb_HlXhc5IwCljlNgLmNFmCR8vgxTcBdz05vmuT1K9wLVYwrN9XwP1bKD_kvVKNLjG39JSPUwcD_BAYMXEHCaazUmA5U2NkHtKAMVwVvbMqCMMxc/s320/blog1.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My foot, between 1st and 2nd surgery.<br />
The black you see is the wound<br />
vac. The rest is tape. It was<br />
completely limp and I was unable to move it.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisG5hJE96dfd1Fip-tmg6zi4hoKRDl615yzib5rJyaeZYYcCbxMbdKWI-XZb5BaWSFPue1gAFEcK12M70-j4VCcZnqxoP1X-F_7tF5DuY595H6Mq1SeB8Sd8Ne-9KcGHJKMi5WVn7I6-2o/s1600/blog5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisG5hJE96dfd1Fip-tmg6zi4hoKRDl615yzib5rJyaeZYYcCbxMbdKWI-XZb5BaWSFPue1gAFEcK12M70-j4VCcZnqxoP1X-F_7tF5DuY595H6Mq1SeB8Sd8Ne-9KcGHJKMi5WVn7I6-2o/s320/blog5.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4/25/2011 Inside of left foot. <br />
Skin is beginning to die on back of foot.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj82000lOH11nFT0q4XPNy4hYw50OIQGb79FbeWhuAGtfzJGlhM9fVkmyJJebdd8mdQoK4KC0VV_7HGpqo5QZwkny4-UghyX-jJAEDLb2HUyX12s7j8YIb80Xf8h4uN-A-u6g404o5LlBjC/s1600/blog2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj82000lOH11nFT0q4XPNy4hYw50OIQGb79FbeWhuAGtfzJGlhM9fVkmyJJebdd8mdQoK4KC0VV_7HGpqo5QZwkny4-UghyX-jJAEDLb2HUyX12s7j8YIb80Xf8h4uN-A-u6g404o5LlBjC/s320/blog2.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was about 3 weeks post accident.<br />
The black is the dead skin/tissue.<br />
The white is a cream I had to put on it.<br />
This was a few days before the 3rd surgery.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiODpKHPAywEvXrXeczI5qY9l3yc8lA292402-QA8YcFC0vsBR9EEUs7xtyUF9oHawp83WUGWBLK9TewALYANWGLdJcz5LEoRFrqei7_tcQbDmG0d-SLRK7lj0wYxVFsRx3a_1L6kCCLH3d/s1600/blog6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiODpKHPAywEvXrXeczI5qY9l3yc8lA292402-QA8YcFC0vsBR9EEUs7xtyUF9oHawp83WUGWBLK9TewALYANWGLdJcz5LEoRFrqei7_tcQbDmG0d-SLRK7lj0wYxVFsRx3a_1L6kCCLH3d/s320/blog6.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was 1 week after the 3rd surgery, <br />
1 week before the 4th surgery (skin graft).<br />
The plastic surgeon removed all of the dead tissue.<br />
I had a wound vac on this to prepare it for the skin graft.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8mkhnciBwlctzPD216fF1bnMNy1jtvv_C1Jv2L5G3qWtCECvI4d0sOrulySLLk1QMGrWshMrw9M_09UjA1jLER-_M7K4qyAwwhobxSvLKHNjWH9_psrlQku9hwdwFbt1MTluEjhGGc-4/s1600/blog8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8mkhnciBwlctzPD216fF1bnMNy1jtvv_C1Jv2L5G3qWtCECvI4d0sOrulySLLk1QMGrWshMrw9M_09UjA1jLER-_M7K4qyAwwhobxSvLKHNjWH9_psrlQku9hwdwFbt1MTluEjhGGc-4/s320/blog8.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">6/6/11.<br />
This is the first time I saw the skin graft, <br />
5 days after the 4th surgery. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZTVJ5bY9UhAmgUnUfxHx_pn9h12vmORoKDo7enGEH9cuhNC2IYjqYTvJyw8WwXqjwCCQcjO9DY5hUJAPN7-GdCipyTi8Bdjl4QqNjkUdJErA_wf4RuBXzDO4oh8pcJY7AMZ9jW2Y5vYoX/s1600/blog7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZTVJ5bY9UhAmgUnUfxHx_pn9h12vmORoKDo7enGEH9cuhNC2IYjqYTvJyw8WwXqjwCCQcjO9DY5hUJAPN7-GdCipyTi8Bdjl4QqNjkUdJErA_wf4RuBXzDO4oh8pcJY7AMZ9jW2Y5vYoX/s320/blog7.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
This is what it looked like with a wound vac on it.</div>
This was right after the skin graft (4th surgery). </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTEnX0T58xIxA4orPLzXscMHY9U9Rb29L-mmRLcB0l0_FB-cG5QRM8UGtrkiltjPGp6q4-WmXEG7Llh07mvt8ZzvSYLo7KTydHNp_dG7-QU-BGx257uSyl9TmpG2HUwZDgbrfxIB0iLDA9/s1600/blog9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTEnX0T58xIxA4orPLzXscMHY9U9Rb29L-mmRLcB0l0_FB-cG5QRM8UGtrkiltjPGp6q4-WmXEG7Llh07mvt8ZzvSYLo7KTydHNp_dG7-QU-BGx257uSyl9TmpG2HUwZDgbrfxIB0iLDA9/s320/blog9.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">6/6/11. The back of my foot after the skin graft.<br />
My tattoo is still there!<br />
At the top edge of the photo, in the center, you can see<br />
the incision where the screws were put in my ankle.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM8SrMI6jA8XB3rDMzsjnEixLd7wA0qfS9ZOytjkr2A4gIA6LR3eHkoGWg5vCOAwRRWEz6ThHOOg0gcFW9E8NijlYhHPTCg-H-SQ3DX2L3CBblanWjw3RRxFTnUceqF3757N6CJLy1Nln6/s1600/blog10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM8SrMI6jA8XB3rDMzsjnEixLd7wA0qfS9ZOytjkr2A4gIA6LR3eHkoGWg5vCOAwRRWEz6ThHOOg0gcFW9E8NijlYhHPTCg-H-SQ3DX2L3CBblanWjw3RRxFTnUceqF3757N6CJLy1Nln6/s320/blog10.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">6/6/11. My outer left thigh. Donor site for the skin graft. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6XB5OSz8OWKVjDareLmgHKT8ADxBqSWf2WTcYb2LSXZueFHjrku6m_9lhM6pJrBc4QVb3gbRkOtxNy5nGFFN_ysWv_176rk97jzie80IG5vOo78XkPwlXZ-FP5VlV3vnmW8W4qbyon96i/s1600/blog11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6XB5OSz8OWKVjDareLmgHKT8ADxBqSWf2WTcYb2LSXZueFHjrku6m_9lhM6pJrBc4QVb3gbRkOtxNy5nGFFN_ysWv_176rk97jzie80IG5vOo78XkPwlXZ-FP5VlV3vnmW8W4qbyon96i/s320/blog11.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was taken about 2 weeks after the skin graft. <br />
Stitches are still there in this photo,<br />
along the outside edges of the graft.<br />
The bottom part of my heel is the one spot<br />
that the skin graft did not "take". <br />
The spot has gotten smaller, <br />
but is still open.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDIe2Cs4snx_hGdXHNz1DmCdITVZ-AEAAvvbtpNgd-oZ3WhKzCqAjjAjIinagRm63v4H3KzILg3ESYZTuwHv2EhEZbuJ-MpQwM265oXNWyuFsZFJG8ZjCYkgTcH_7BpXHXx_XXkkxLSVIQ/s1600/blog13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDIe2Cs4snx_hGdXHNz1DmCdITVZ-AEAAvvbtpNgd-oZ3WhKzCqAjjAjIinagRm63v4H3KzILg3ESYZTuwHv2EhEZbuJ-MpQwM265oXNWyuFsZFJG8ZjCYkgTcH_7BpXHXx_XXkkxLSVIQ/s320/blog13.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">August 2011. This was also about 2 weeks ago.<br />
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The outer part of my foot almost looks like</div>
normal skin. It is still tender, but looking good.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXpyB3xwErDRcWUimyTneS2dQapLbYXprs-n8Sm5lGQ1Xn5dzAFj0qbxuQgt0Wck6a1c3eDKfvflRa6J1jbIzn74OXnm3kHeEnFKrqH_51yuCdz8Qk-5F6ND1jnYwcEXVpArxpNYdcBE6N/s1600/blog12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXpyB3xwErDRcWUimyTneS2dQapLbYXprs-n8Sm5lGQ1Xn5dzAFj0qbxuQgt0Wck6a1c3eDKfvflRa6J1jbIzn74OXnm3kHeEnFKrqH_51yuCdz8Qk-5F6ND1jnYwcEXVpArxpNYdcBE6N/s320/blog12.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">August 2011. This was taken about 2 weeks ago.<br />
The skin graft looks great! There is still one small<br />
area at the bottom of my heel that has remained open.<br />
Overall, it has healed well.</td></tr>
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crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-51655706083212554972011-08-03T16:03:00.002-05:002011-08-03T16:13:26.494-05:00Changed.Last week I had an appointment with the play therapist who will work with Riley. The place is about 40 minutes from our house (without traffic), much further than I had wanted. But when I have so many recommendations for one particular place, that is where I will go! <br />
<br />
On my way there, traffic came to a dead stop. Behind me I heard sirens, so I pulled over as far as I could on the busy highway to let the emergency vehicles through. I thought, <em>uh oh. </em>It's been a very long time since I've driven in rush hour traffic on a busy highway. I was quickly reminded just how impatient people are to get to wherever it is they are going. <br />
<br />
Everyone seemed to think that this accident ahead was just something that will delay their trip home, to dinner, a date, a meeting, wherever they need to be. <strong>So self absorbed that they forget that up ahead, someone's life just changed. Or possibly ended, if the accident was really bad.</strong> They don't think about the people invloved in the accident, or those going to help them. And it's more than just them. It's also the families of the ones involved. What about their kids? Spouse? Parents? It effects them, too.<br />
<br />
Maybe it was the fact that I was on my way to talk about my son's PTSD, which was a result of our accident. Or maybe it was the fact that I was listening to Casting Crown's. Either way, I actually teared up thinking about how the lives of those ahead were just changed. <br />
<br />
In the last 15.5 weeks since that night, our lives have been different. Yes, we are doing fine and are very fortunate that we are still here to tell the tale. But our lives<em> are</em> different. My parents lives are different, as my mom is still staying with us to help me while Ryan is at work. My kids' lives are different. The life of the girl who hit us is different, and so is her family's. <strong>For better or worse, we are all changed because of one moment in time. </strong><br />
<br />
I've been thinking a lot recently about those emergency workers who helped us. The police, the firefighters and paramedics. The good samaritans who stopped to help and call 911. The emergency workers were just doing their job. I don't remember a single name or face (I was slightly distracted by the worst pain I have ever felt). But I do remember how they calmed me down (I was in "fight or flight mode", as one paramedic put it). One paramedic held my hand as the others worked on stablizing my foot (it had no pulse, my heel bone and achilles tendon were completely exposed). I had no clue what they were doing, but the simple act of holding my hand was comforting. Ryan was already in another ambulance on his way to the hospital, so he couldn't be there next to me. <br />
<br />
Every time I see any emergency workers in The Colony, I wonder if they worked the accident. On Monday I took myself and the boys to lunch at Chick Fil A. A group of firefighters/paramedics walked in to order as we were leaving. On a whim, I turned around and asked the closest one to me if he worked a motorcycle accident a few months ago. He did. I was finally able to put a face to one of the strangers who helped us, and tell him <em>thank you</em>. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNi-vnKXFUvjN0ztpg-QxlYiESUTAxRAVulnliecfGOEeGuIRwnwGizzx0COrpMb9VjFZBU5QxH-lICYroAuhCQ9zY_sdpxU6Yj2nLyzPLHMMOmAmJ1eUbcdRTH2EN27rM6E1DYtrwn9DM/s1600/fire+truck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNi-vnKXFUvjN0ztpg-QxlYiESUTAxRAVulnliecfGOEeGuIRwnwGizzx0COrpMb9VjFZBU5QxH-lICYroAuhCQ9zY_sdpxU6Yj2nLyzPLHMMOmAmJ1eUbcdRTH2EN27rM6E1DYtrwn9DM/s320/fire+truck.jpg" t$="true" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My boys playing in<br />
the fire truck!</td></tr>
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Last night was National Night Out, which means block party time! Every year, a police car and fire truck stop by to visit. I asked the officers if they worked the accident, which they did not. But one of the sergeants knew about the accident, and that it was a high school girl who hit us. But 2 of the firefighters/paramedics did. They remembered the accident in detail, and were very happy to see we are doing well! Again, I was able to thank them for their help, and everything they do. It was one of these 2 that told me I was in "fight or flight mode". </div>
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<strong>A long time ago, someone suggested instead of cursing or complaining when you hear sirens, say a prayer for whoever they are going to help, and also for the emergency workers. That has always stuck with me. I still do it to this day. The tricky part is to also say a prayer of thanks when you get a speeding ticket. Maybe that traffic stop prevented an accident that could change your life forever, and the life of someone you'll never meet. </strong><br />
<br />
By the way, that accident that happened last week on my way to the play therapist was minor. A lot of damage to the cars, but everyone appeared to be okay. I breathed a big sigh of relief for them.<br />
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<strong><em>What is one moment in your life, big or small, that has changed you?</em></strong></div>
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crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-83385735214920633512011-07-26T14:38:00.000-05:002011-07-26T14:38:53.384-05:00Freedom!I just got home from an appointment with my orthopedic surgeon. This was a big appointment for me, with several questions about my recovery. <br />
<br />
First of all, it's all looking great! My plastic surgeon cleared me two weeks ago to lose the boot I've been wearing for so long, but I had to wait for this appointment to see what the ortho said. The 2 screws in my left ankle are still there and in place. Problem is, with my already skinny ankles and the muscle atrophy, my ankle is down to nothing! I can touch my thumb and middle finger together when I wrap them around it. So because of this, and also the range of motion I'm slowly gaining, I have been able to feel the 2 screws, on either side of my ankle (inside <em>and</em> out).<br />
<br />
He told me before that it was a 50/50 chance of having the screws removed. If they broke, then they could stay. But they are still intact. And since my ankle has no muscle, fat, or tissue to cushion the screws (which is why I can feel them), he is recommending they come out. So in about 4 weeks I will go in for Surgery #5 to have them removed. It will be a quick day surgery, with a short recovery. He also thinks I will have better range of motion in my ankle after removing the screws.<br />
<br />
This is all great news! Yes, it means another surgery, but it also means that I am healing and my body is doing what it should. <br />
<br />
The surgery will fall around the week of August 22-26, which falls right before a very busy September. There's Labor Day, our 5 year wedding anniversary trip to San Antonio, and a trip to California to visit my brother, sister-in-law, and my niece (who I have not been able to meet yet). But the recovery time for this surgery will be quick, so he doesn't think it will hinder any vacation plans.<br />
<br />
The biggest and most exciting news of the day is that I can stop wearing my boot!!!! This is the best news of my recovery, especially here in Texas! The boot is lined with "fur" (I think it's fleece). It is the hottest boot imaginable. Everyone tells me it looks like an Ugg. And it's been 100+ degrees here for several weeks. Yesterday my car told me it hit 110*. Imagine wearing your Ugg's in that weather! Not fun. <br />
<br />
He also told me to start weaning off of the crutches. I have tried using just one crutch (with the boot on), and even no crutches. It wasn't pleasant. But when I got home today (wearing my regular shoes), I was actually able to walk around (well, <em>limp around</em>) and carry my own plate of food. It is such a relief to know that I am now able to get myself something to eat or drink without having to rely on someone else to carry it for me. I am not ready to go crutch-less out of the house just yet, but I'm on my way!<br />
<br />
I don't think I'll be able to wear my <a href="http://adventuresofacrispymama.blogspot.com/2011/06/sexy-heels-and-update.html">sexy heels </a>on our anniversary trip, but that's okay. I was told 4-6 weeks after the surgery to be careful (no dancing or twisting of the ankle), so that will be a little too soon to wear 4" heels. I'll just have to go find some sexy flats!<br />
<br />
Riley is doing well, too. I had an appointment a couple weeks ago to get him started with play therapy. Now I'm just waiting to hear back from the counselor to get him scheduled. He's had a busy few weeks! He's attending the Summer Fun! camps at our church, as well as Vacation Bible School. He has had a blast, and will continue to have fun as the summer goes on! While he seems to be doing a little better, I still want to get him in the play therapy to make sure he is able to work through his emotions after the accident. He still holds a "grudge" against motorcycles, and seems to worry more than he should. The anger issues are still there, but don't seem to be as bad.<br />
<br />
Almost forgot to mention that I've been driving for the last few weeks. Which means I've been off the pain meds for a few weeks! Over the counter meds have been able to manage my pain (mostly). <br />
<br />
So that's it for now. I'm staying busy with church, kids, the <a href="http://www.dfwclothdiapergroup.com/index.html">DFW Cloth Diaper Group</a>, the <a href="http://www.dfwclothdiapergroup.com/dfw-cloth-diaper-project.html">DFW Cloth Diaper Project</a>, physical therapy, and other activities that are part of life!crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-57330324886984364922011-07-15T14:30:00.001-05:002011-07-15T14:30:42.360-05:00This Moment: Donut Date<em>This moment</em> is just a photo of a memory from this week. A moment in time that you want to keep frozen in your memory.<br />
<br />
<br />
This week's memory is from yesterday. Riley and I had a donut date before he went to a "camp" at church. It's a rare time anymore when it's just me and him. I appreciate these moments even more now! <br />
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crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-72628908123027328512011-07-12T17:44:00.004-05:002011-07-12T18:21:55.280-05:00fml...Really?!<br />
<br />
I read so many posts on facebook about people complaining about the little things, followed by "fml". For those who don't know what that means, it is "f**k my life". Sorry, I apologize for the language, I don't like reading blogs with it, but it has been irritating me for a long time. So this is my vent.<br />
<br />
Even before my accident, I didn't like reading posts with that. But even more so in the last 12 weeks, it really irks me (I love any chance to use the word "irks"). I admit, I may post a complaint here and there, but I never even <em>think</em> "fml". It is very sad to me that so many people think that small problems are so big. I understand that there are some days where I may feel down and defeated. But things really are not <em>that </em>bad.<br />
<br />
My kids may drive me crazy and get on my last nerve on a day that I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.<br />
<br />
My car may break down (been there, done that -- <em>plenty</em> of times).<br />
<br />
A car cut me off today.<br />
<br />
I got in a fight with my husband.<br />
<br />
I got a bad haircut trying to save a few bucks.<br />
<br />
I was in a motorcycle accident with my husband and still can't walk 12 weeks later, much less take care of my kids.<br />
<br />
My 4 year old potty trained son is having regressions and has PTSD as a result of our accident.<br />
<br />
<strong>It's not the end of the world. Life goes on.</strong><br />
<br />
When I traveled to Nigeria in 2003, everyone told me to expect culture shock when I got there. I did experience it, <em>but not until returning home</em>. On that trip, I witnessed children running around naked because they had no clothes, yet they still had joy on their face! I witnessed women caring for orphans (who lost their parents to illness or war) who genuinely loved what they did, despite the poor living conditions (no electricity and a hole in the floor for a "toilet"). I witnessed people singing and dancing down the aisle at church to joyfully give their offering, even if they couldn't "afford" it. I experienced the "potholes" in the roads (that spanned the width of the road and were just as deep).<br />
<br />
Then I came home to America, where more is never enough. Where we complain about the tiniest bump in the road. Where we complain about a dirty restroom at the mall. Where we complain about not being able to afford the newest phone/tv/video game/_insert gadget here_. Where we are jealous of our friend's new designer handbag or shoes. Where we complain about a 5 minute power loss from a storm.<br />
<br />
I'm not saying this to be "holier than thou", or to make you think I'm perfect by any means. <em>I'm not</em>. I do complain about these things (though I complain about potholes a lot less!). But I also know there's no point in thinking my life is horrible because of the little things that go wrong. Or even the big things. <strong>Use a little perspective and you will realize that even the big things may one day look small.</strong> Or that your big troubles in life are nothing compared to a friend's or neighbor's. <em>Or that stranger you passed by in the store, the one who has to choose between diapers and food because they can't afford both.</em><br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>Instead of saying "fml", why not just be thankful for all of the little <em>good</em> things in your life? You might realize there's a lot more good than bad. And even if there's not, be thankful. Always.</strong><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-21695275450628586282011-06-29T15:29:00.000-05:002011-06-29T15:29:35.259-05:00Sexy Heels (and an update)!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW3mUAl1cvJEsNi8j5UUSxTVlv3KUn2CqcnMPOPFKacWzP29POk_5Mns049plXUiY4W_aOwckT8Rrx7ExQsE507yvwB72cpL293uzj94Y_OM9wk3qqM-cFUOFR3iTIkQqWKJ3-oYbrlO9q/s1600/My+new+shoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW3mUAl1cvJEsNi8j5UUSxTVlv3KUn2CqcnMPOPFKacWzP29POk_5Mns049plXUiY4W_aOwckT8Rrx7ExQsE507yvwB72cpL293uzj94Y_OM9wk3qqM-cFUOFR3iTIkQqWKJ3-oYbrlO9q/s320/My+new+shoes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
These shoes are my goal. I could not resist these sexy heels yesterday, so I bought them as an inspiration to walk again very soon (not that I really need more of an incentive than my kids). The price was just too good to pass up!<br />
<br />
Once I'm up and walking again, I'm going to make Ryan take me out on a nice date so I can wear them!<br />
<br />
Speaking of walking.... I had my very first physical therapy session this morning. For the first time in 10.5 weeks, I put weight on my left foot and "walked" on it. Range of motion in my ankle will be the biggest concern, as well as being able to put weight on it. <br />
<br />
I have had continuing knee problems since the accident. It's no surprise, since it was crushed between a car and our motorcycle. But the orthopedic surgeon told me the x-rays were clear (but he would refer me to a sports medicine doctor if it continued to bother me). The physician's assistant that I saw 2 weeks ago just brushed it off (I was not impressed with her and will not see her again). I haven't really pushed it, since I knew the ankle was the bigger concern. But it is still fairly swollen and bruised. It also hurts if it is in one position too long (especially bent). The therapist looked at it, and told me that I definitely sprained the MCL, and deeply bruised something I can't pronounce (much less spell!) that is connected to the MCL. He said I do not need to seek treatment from a doctor now, only if the therapy does not help. They will work on my knee, but the ankle is still top priority. Once I'm up and walking more, the knee therapy will start.<br />
<br />
I was told to do excersizes twice a day on non-therapy days. I will go 3 times a week for about 6 weeks, depending on how things go. <br />
<br />
It was not <em>painful</em>, but extremely uncomfortable. Well, I lied. Putting weight on it <em>was</em> painful, as was "walking" on it. I will still use the crutches, for balance and support. The boot stays for now. It is designed to keep pressure off of my heel. I still have an open wound on the back of my heel where the skin graft didn't "take", so it has to stay bandaged up. Once my heel has healed a little more, I will be able to start wearing regular shoes again. The therapist told me about a neoprene "sleeve" that I can wear to cover the back of my heel/ankle, so that my shoes won't rub against it. <br />
<br />
Hopefully that neoprene sleeve will work with my new heels! I am determined to wear them within 3 months. <br />
<br />
We also took Riley back to the doctor today for his 4 year well check. He was happy that he didn't have to get shots (the vaccines are all back-ordered until late July). We talked more about his <a href="http://adventuresofacrispymama.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-son-has-ptsd.html">PTSD</a>. His behavior has been better, but I'm still concerned about some other things (as is our doctor). She gave me the name of a child psychistrist, but he doesn't do play therapy for children his age. I was given some other names of child therapists and psychologists, and we are working on geting him into play therapy to help him work through his emotions. It's been hard, and things are getting slightly better, but he still needs just a little help to figure things out. <br />
<br />
Riley has also been talking (mostly to my mom) about how he doesn't like motorcycles anymore. <strong>He told Ryan and I last night that we couldn't ride a motorcycle again because it was too dangerous</strong> (his words, not mine). This coming from a little boy who used to<em> love</em> his daddy's motorcycles. <br />
<br />
Overall, things are going very well. Life is still very busy, and it never stops. We will get past this chapter in our life, and we will move on.<br />
<br />
<strong>For now, though, I just can't wait to wear those heels!</strong>crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-63601518316271755712011-06-16T22:39:00.001-05:002011-06-17T18:49:17.570-05:00I can't believe it's over.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHvRIdywIU-QHjLSzpK5aCtNuCu7Aon6ENGhm4suWI9LCMMPYHhWzHvK4-8Fljem7ncr5dzKm2t42QPWBM8cynDyj9EvniiBb7aHQgunP_sx7y31ZDt_Pxkkzs-DjCco6cUI9UD4O2QCik/s1600/BF+logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHvRIdywIU-QHjLSzpK5aCtNuCu7Aon6ENGhm4suWI9LCMMPYHhWzHvK4-8Fljem7ncr5dzKm2t42QPWBM8cynDyj9EvniiBb7aHQgunP_sx7y31ZDt_Pxkkzs-DjCco6cUI9UD4O2QCik/s200/BF+logo.jpg" t8="true" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Breastfeeding logo.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I never thought I'd be writing this post. Mostly because I never thought I'd be sad about not breastfeeding anymore. I have heard of mom's who slip into a depression after their nursling weans (for whatever reason, at any age, whether it be 5 months or 5 years). I never understood it. I don't want you to think I'm being insensitive, I just haven't experience that before. While I am not depressed, I do feel sad that E is no longer nursing.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I know the biggest reason I feel this way is because <strong>it was not our choice</strong>, mine or E's. He was 17 months. Five months longer than I nursed Riley, and much longer than I ever expected or planned. I am very proud we made it so long.</div><br />
I can't remember a single detail about the last time I nursed him (<em>and now the tears are forming.</em>..). If I had known it would be the last time, I would have cuddled with him while he found both comfort and nourishment. I would have savored every moment of it. <strong>I would have memorized his face, the sounds he made, the way he looked at me and grinned, while still latched on</strong>. I would have asked my hubby to take a photo to capture that moment of peace. I would have remembered exactly where we sat (most likely the couch, where I usually nursed him, but it could have been my bed, I really can't remember). I would have captured every second of it in my mind, to cherish forever.<br />
<br />
<strong>It became something I took for granted, that special time for me and Eli, that happened whenever, and wherever, he wanted it.</strong> There were times I wished he were ready to stop, so I could have my body back all to myself. But I knew he was not ready, so we continued. When he turned 1 year, I thought we would see how he was doing at 15 months. Then 15 months hit, and he still wasn't ready, so we carried on.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCo4yMBT6S9NJHyvce4Br8HDWUfgN61Ga0M9aeAV24y_bNikutfTOxYQCiUqAuq_V3kMIcDkaDv83rRPuvVhvDI_OZpJAIL8a5gkt2eFRz3xAGyRNzi7qEF8FaXlJX_M0ZWLv0tF71paR_/s1600/Random+Pics+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCo4yMBT6S9NJHyvce4Br8HDWUfgN61Ga0M9aeAV24y_bNikutfTOxYQCiUqAuq_V3kMIcDkaDv83rRPuvVhvDI_OZpJAIL8a5gkt2eFRz3xAGyRNzi7qEF8FaXlJX_M0ZWLv0tF71paR_/s320/Random+Pics+004.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I couldn't resist taking this photo last winter!<br />
I absolutely love the look on his face, and will always cherish moments like this one!</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Then Ryan and I were in the accident, and I was pumped full of drugs. I also had emergency surgery on my foot 8 hours after the accident. More drugs in my system. <strong>I remember laying in the ER, in the worst pain of my life, and telling the nurses that I would no longer be able to nurse my baby</strong> (<em>and here are more tears</em>). They said they were sorry, and asked how old my baby was. I told them 17 months, and they were impressed (not repulsed) that we made it that long! </div><br />
Once I was in my room, a couple of my nurses offered me a pump so I could keep up my supply. But at that point, I knew it was over. Pumping is not my friend. I have not been able to pump since E was about 5-6 months old. Only a few tiny drops would come out any time I tried. I knew I had a long hospital stay ahead of me, more medications (most of which are not safe for BFing), and more surgeries. I also didn't know how E would take to nursing again after my long stay away from him.<br />
<br />
<strong>I realized our breastfeeding days were over</strong>. It took about 8 days for my milk to dry up. I used cabbage leaves to help ease the discomfort. By the time I went to rehab, it was gone.<br />
<br />
When the kids were brought up to visit me, E wanted nothing to do with me for the first 5-6 days. The last day he saw me in the hospital, he finally warmed up enough to sit by me for a few minutes. At rehab, he was much better and ran right up to me. Once I returned home, he still didn't want much to do with me, and clung to my mom for the first few days. <br />
A few days after returning home from rehab, E woke up early, still very sleepy. He cuddled with my mom on the couch, but after a few minutes, decided he would cuddle with me. <br />
<br />
He laid in my lap, and immediately got into the "position". He always preferred my left side, so that's how he laid in my lap. He sweetly looked up at me and pointed at my breast, and said "ehh, ehh" (his way of telling me he wanted milk). I gently told him "No more milk, it's all gone." He put his head down, as if to say "okay". Then a few minutes later, he asked again. 3-4 times he did this, but stayed calm every time I told him "no more". I was surprised at how calm he was. Then the 4-5th time, he had a meltdown. He screamed, and threw himself down. He didn't want me to put him down, yet he didn't want me to hold him. <strong>My heart was aching. I wanted so badly to just pop out my boob and let him try, but I knew the milk was long gone.</strong> He got over it a few minutes later, and was content cuddling. But inside I felt horrible I could no longer give him what he wanted/needed.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0p1ThcYhujQYDWwyLblUiHDz-eHgN2CDm1K70VmXbJ-FpQ2ws_mjbowOMRf0wUiYAf5Zd8S2FBbb7PSJx5Ee7NNc90qoXfu8Bdyqxcv9R9ruke6T4CVPnEngyLPjBKTw9r6cSCBVaEdqx/s1600/BFing+a+Toddler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0p1ThcYhujQYDWwyLblUiHDz-eHgN2CDm1K70VmXbJ-FpQ2ws_mjbowOMRf0wUiYAf5Zd8S2FBbb7PSJx5Ee7NNc90qoXfu8Bdyqxcv9R9ruke6T4CVPnEngyLPjBKTw9r6cSCBVaEdqx/s1600/BFing+a+Toddler.jpg" t8="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What breastfeeding a<br />
toddler is really like!</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Only one other time has he asked for it. He had fallen and hurt himself (mostly his ego), and came to me for comfort. I was unable to give him the comfort he wanted, though. Again, my heart ached.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">A few days ago I was getting dressed. When I took off my night shirt, he got all excited and pointed at my chest, as if to say <strong>"Look! My old friends!"</strong> Then he sat by me, still happy. I continued to get dressed, half expecting him to ask for milk. But he didn't. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It's really over. And I'm sad. I now understand why people say they were saddened when their child weaned themselves. When I weaned Riley at 12 months (yes, I weaned him), he was more than fine! He honestly couldn't care less where his milk came from (bottle, cup, or boob; me or a cow). He was fine, and so was I. This time, it was not my decision, nor was it Eli's. He has done much better than I expected. I think partly because I was gone for 2 weeks, so he had time to adjust to not nursing before I came home.</div> <br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I have been putting off sitting down to write this post. I knew it would be hard. <strong>I knew that once I put it in writing it would solidify that it's really over, that I will never nurse Eli again. And it would also confirm that I really am sad about it.</strong> <em>Out of everything that has happened in the last 9 weeks, this is one thing that I wish I could take back and fix.</em> My physical injuries are healing and I know I will walk again. But I cannot take back the end of our breastfeeding relationship. I will never nurse him again. I hate that I don't remember the last time I nursed him. It's all gone, it's all over. And there's nothing I can do to change it.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-1363385712822136442011-06-15T12:01:00.000-05:002011-06-15T12:01:58.834-05:00My son has PTSD.And he's not even 4. <br />
<br />
Since the accident 8.5 weeks ago, Riley has been acting out, having potty accidents, and just flat out not listening. He also has days where he's just sad, or mad, and he doesn't know why. He's also had several occassions where he woke up in the middle of the night crying. He doesn't want to go to bed, although the last week he has been better about bedtime.<br />
<br />
I know what you're thinking: <em>He's 4 (almost -- in less than 2 weeks). It's just a phase, he'll get past this.</em> No, it's more than that. I know typical 4 year old behavior, I taught preschool classes for many years. This is typical 4 y/o behavior, <em>magnified</em>. Plus a whole lot more.<br />
<br />
Last week I called our family doctor, since things have been getting progressively worse, not better like I had hoped it would. <strong>She told me that he has Post Traumatic Stress Disorder</strong> (PTSD). Those words never even crossed my mind. I knew a lot of this was normal behavior, but more of it was because of the changes that have occurred since our <a href="http://adventuresofacrispymama.blogspot.com/search/label/accident">accident</a>. <br />
<br />
It all makes sense. It's been hard, on all of us. Consistancy has been hard with 3 adults, who have 3 different parenting styles. My mom has been living here since the accident, since I'm unable to care for the kids while Ryan is at work. With his increasing temper tantrums and acting out, it's very frustrating. <strong>It's hard to find the perfect balance between the comfort he craves and the discipline he needs. </strong><br />
<br />
After talking with his doctor, we are all changing the way we talk to him, and trying our best to be on the same page. We need to stay firm, while letting him know we understand why he is so frustrated sometimes. He doesn't know how to process his feelings. <strong>He gets mad, then he gets sad...and he doesn't know why</strong>. <br />
<br />
We also will continue to reassure him I am going to be fine, and that I'm not going anywhere. One day for me to be away from him feels like forever. Ryan and I drove off for a date, and I didn't return home for 2 weeks. He was scared and unsure of what was happening. After coming home, I had 2 more brief hospital stays (surgeries). The last one (2 weeks ago) really upset him. He did not want me to leave again. I am the one who is always here, day and night. He's used to Ryan going to work all day, then coming home. But he's not used to me being gone for more than a few hours. <br />
<br />
And I'm hurt, and can't care for him the way I usually do. I can't get down and play with him. I get tired easily. The pain meds make me nauseous, so he's seen me at my worst. I hurt, and he has to be gentle. My mom has been here to help with those things, but it's been very different for him. He's used to Mimi being Mimi who spoils him, not the primary caregiver who has to discipline him. It's very confusing for him.<br />
<br />
If in the next week things do not improve, we will go back to the doctor and talk about either play therapy, or a play group, to help him learn how to process his emotions. She said it would probably only take a few weeks, but it would be well worth it for him.<br />
<br />
It is hard to think about the fact that we can't "deal with" our son's behavior. We're his parents, I'm his Mommy. We should know exactly what to do. I know he's having a hard time with things, but I also know we can't baby him and let him get away with eveything because of that. That will only make things worse. It also doesn't help that when I am in pain or very uncomfortable and tired, because my patience runs very thin at those times. It's hard to stay calm when all I want to do is yell because I'm in pain. So when he is refusing to listen or do what I've asked him to do, it is extremely frustrating. <em>There are times that I feel like the worst mom in the world because I just yelled at my kid for something as little as not picking up his toys.</em> This is where we need to find that balance of comfort and discipline, but it's hard.<br />
<br />
Hearing the doctor say that he has PTSD was hard to process. He's so young to be going through that.<strong> </strong> I almost feel guilty, but then I feel guilty for feeling guilty. <strong>It is so hard to know that this is something I can't just kiss and make better.</strong> I wish I could.<br />
<br />
I know things <em>will</em> get better, and that I am <em>not</em> a failure as a mom. But right now it is hard, on top of everything else we are dealing with now. So I ask for your prayers, especially for Riley. Please pray that he is able to process his emotions in a positive way. Please pray that we have the wisdom to parent him in the way that he needs. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi72dph7tqL0zAEmpRqpNq-SrTE3iXngw9njk35sxC7FFC2VPvRbaKjeWkbJ1Wk6q26Q9ICjOySEEFjL5XabHt09HpqgVOOKStel-eK17hNwnQ0wCIHoz4Kt4k_7_ifvWkr_2P0qlAFkVx1/s1600/Summer+2011+062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi72dph7tqL0zAEmpRqpNq-SrTE3iXngw9njk35sxC7FFC2VPvRbaKjeWkbJ1Wk6q26Q9ICjOySEEFjL5XabHt09HpqgVOOKStel-eK17hNwnQ0wCIHoz4Kt4k_7_ifvWkr_2P0qlAFkVx1/s320/Summer+2011+062.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Riley enjoying Legoland Discovery Center, just a couple days before my last surgery. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-23789041772131383752011-06-02T14:33:00.000-05:002011-06-02T14:33:51.653-05:00Update 6/2/11Sorry, it's been awhile since and actual update with what's going on. But things are progressing well. I just came home yesterday from another surgery and a brief hospital stay. <br />
<br />
I had a skin graft done on my heel, where all of the skin/tissue had died off. This is great news, that it was <em>only</em> a skin graft. It was 2 weeks after the last surgery (4th surgery total), when the plastic surgeon cleaned up all the dead tissue and put a wound vac on it. The <a href="http://www.kci1.com/KCI1/sciencebehindthetherapy">wound vac</a> is a special pump that puts negative pressure on my heel and sucks away all the "gunk". It promotes healing and prepared the tissue for the skin graft. In the 2 weeks between surgeries, I had a home health nurse change the dressing 3 times a week. <br />
<br />
He had planned on doing a 4-5 hour surgery, called a "<a href="http://www.josr-online.com/content/3/1/15">reverse flow flap</a>" (<em>WARNING: link is for a medical study and contains photos of actual procedures</em>). He would have taken a small area from the back of my calf (including a little muscle) and created a new pad for the back of my heel, while moving the vein so blood can flow through my heel (which it hasn't been able to do). But, because the wound vac did such a good job, he didn't need to do this! If he had to do the flap, it would have meant a longer hospital stay, bedrest for over a week, and a longer recovery. But with just a skin graft I was home within 24 hours after surgery, and can resume "normal" (at least my new normal, still no weight on the left foot) activities, as tolerated.<br />
<br />
I have a follow up appointment on Monday to see how the graft is doing. At that time he will remove the wound vac, hopefully for good. He may or may not continue the wound vac therapy, depending on how well it's healing. He will also show me how to change the dressing for my graft sight (the outer side of my upper left thigh). If all is doing well, he said I should be able to start physical therapy in 2-3 weeks to start moving my left ankle, and eventually start putting weight on it. <br />
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As far as the orthopedic part (my left fibula, left ankle, and right pelvic bone), I am doing well. The orthopedic surgeon is waiting for the plastic surgeon to clear me to start PT. I am unsure of if/when the 2 screws in my left ankle will come out, but he said the torn ligament is healing well, as is the fibula. I will get new xrays of my pevlic bone on the 14th, but he also said I am doing well as far as that goes. It takes about 12 full weeks for a minor pelvic fracture to heal. As of today, it's been 6 weeks and 5 days. <br />
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My mom is still staying with us, helping out with the boys and around the house. She had a break over the holiday weekend, when Ryan was off of work, so she could go home and pack. They are moving in just a few weeks to Jacksboro. <br />
<br />
The boys are doing fine, though there are still some behavioral problems we are dealing with, especially with Riley. 3 is a hard age anyway, but I know this accident has greatly effected him. It has been a life changing event, and those are always hard to deal with. Lately, it's been bedtime. Bedtime has been a fight every night recently, with both boys. Eli just wants to cuddle with me until he falls asleep (which he hasn't done in a very long time). Riley just doesn't want to go to bed, no matter how tired he is. Last night was <em>slightly</em> better. We are having to find new ways of dealing with them, to see what will work best. It is hard to balance the comofort they crave with the discipline they need. Please continue to pray that we do the best we can to find that balance. Also pray for the boys, especially Riley.<br />
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Ryan is still doing well. Tired, but good. He goes on call tomorrow, which means 2 weeks of working non-stop (unless he doesn't get called out Sat. and Sun., which is rare). <br />
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I will not include pictures of my foot, at least not until I see how it looks Monday when the wound vac comes off. It has <em>not</em> been nice to look at. There is still a possibility of more surgery (if the graft doesn't heal well, or the physical therapy is too much pressure for it) down the road, but hopefully this was it. The heel is a difficult place for a graft. It is still unknown how much sensation I have lost for good in my heel. <br />
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I still don't know if I now have 4 tattoos, or if I'm down to 3. My very first tattoo was a tiny butterfly on my left ankle, hard to see unless you're looking. I forgot to ask if he was able to work around it or not. Guess I'll find out on Monday.... I've been itching to get a new one anyway.crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-28950105366632913982011-05-29T13:20:00.000-05:002011-05-29T13:20:47.746-05:00Walking through the Rocks...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaBoP-s57BRhofT6jfiJXE9qR7IKIhm6a6Urh8R9NW29Mj6Yn1wl-jhH5qTRIHlM4shQCPfva214J3nTapK3V3jKyYi70viTdDGhJ02GOLeEEMpNx7zoe1NtSvKARcAr-IquZCG-ksRAfa/s1600/postive+thinking.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaBoP-s57BRhofT6jfiJXE9qR7IKIhm6a6Urh8R9NW29Mj6Yn1wl-jhH5qTRIHlM4shQCPfva214J3nTapK3V3jKyYi70viTdDGhJ02GOLeEEMpNx7zoe1NtSvKARcAr-IquZCG-ksRAfa/s1600/postive+thinking.png" t8="true" /></a></div>6 weeks and about 14 hours.<br />
<br />
That's how long it's been since our motorcyle accident.<br />
<br />
I've had many people tell me that if this had happened to them that they would be depressed and wouldn't be able to handle it like I have. They tell me I'm doing so great considering everything that happened. My friend Brandi even used me in her blog a couple weeks ago. Read her post titled <a href="http://brandi-howdoyouknow.blogspot.com/2011/05/why-must-habits-be-changed-4.html">Why Must Habits be Changed? #4</a>. I stole this ----> picture from her blog, because I absolutely loved it!<br />
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And you know what, <strong>I am doing pretty good</strong>. I could be laying in bed all day long, crying about what happened. I can't walk on my left foot. It's hideous to look at. I still have another surgery, with a long recovery ahead of me.<br />
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Are things easy? No. Not in any sense of the word. <strong>Things are hard. Damn hard.</strong> I can't do much for myself. It's hard on my mom and my husband, who have to essentially wait on me hand and foot. If I'm thirsty or hungry, they have to get me food or drink. If I need to change my underwear, I need their help holding the tube on my wound vac so it doesn't get contaminated laying on the bed or floor. Shower by myself? Yes, but I need Ryan's help before and after. I can go to the bathroom by myself. But I can't pick up my kids. I can't even put Eli to bed (which he has been wanting lately). Riley has been having behavioral problems as a result of the accident, and it's very hard to know how to handle him sometimes.<br />
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There's a lot that I <em>can't</em> do. I could easily focus on that and fall into a deep depression. Do I choose to do that? No. I cannot live my life thinking about the <em>can't's</em> in life. Have I cried about what happened? Yes. Have I had a hard time with things? Yes. Have I argued with my husband, yelled at the kids, snapped at my mom? Yes, yes, and yes. It is extremely frustrating. <strong>But I <em>choose</em> not to let it get me down</strong>. <em>My faith is in One more powerful than I, and I trust that He will carry us through this.</em><br />
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Life is hard. Things happen, bad things and good things. Life really is a roller coaster of highs and lows. A song comes to mind, by Caedman's Call. It's called "Lead of Love".<br />
<br />
<em>...Looking back You know You had to bring me through <br />
All that I was so afraid of <br />
Though I questioned the sky, now I see why </em><em><strong>Had to walk the rocks to see the mountain view <br />
Looking back I see the lead of love </strong></em><br />
<br />
<em>Looking back I can finally see (I'd rather have wisdom) <br />
How failures bring humility (than be) <br />
Brings me to my knees (a comfortable fool) <br />
Helps me see my need for Thee...</em><br />
<em> </em>It is impossible for me to know what the future holds. And during challenging times in life, it feels impossible to think things will ever get better. This accident has been the hardest thing in my life that I have had to go through. Nothing has been harder or more difficult to handle. But<strong> I trust in the One who created me</strong>. He will never give me more than I can handle. He will give me the tools I need to get through this. He will send the people in my life who will help me through this. <br />
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At the end of this, I <em>will </em>see that mountain view. I'm not sure what it will look like, and that's ok. <strong>I trust that God will help me through this and get me there. That is how I am able to have such a positive outlook through all of this. </strong> The low times in our lives help us appreciate the highs. Each hug and "I wuv you, Mommy" means so much more to me now. <br />
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I may not be able to carry my kids, but <em>I am able to hold them in my lap.</em><br />
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I may not be able to fix myself something to eat or drink, but <em>I am thankful that I have a wonderful support system here to help me. </em><br />
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I may not be able to walk right now, but <em>I will be able to walk again</em>.<br />
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I may not be able to do a lot of things now, but I least <strong>I am here</strong><em>. </em>I am alive. <strong>And I am thankful</strong>.crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-5022094970017623292011-05-18T09:16:00.001-05:002011-05-18T13:22:55.117-05:00Update 5/18/11Surgery went well yesterday. It was the outcome we were praying for! Which means that the dead tissue was not too deep, and only a skin graft will be required. For now, I have another wound vac on my heel. I will be going home today! Home health will come out a few times a week to check the wound vac. I have a follow up on Monday with the plastic surgeon.<br />
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He wants to wait a little bit on the next surgery, to see how my foot does on it's own. He wants to let the skin try to regrow itself before doing the skin graft. <br />
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Anyway, I'll keep this short and sweet, but this is what's going on right now. I was actually expecting to hear that it was the worst case scenario, so I was pleasantly surprised!<br />
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<br />
<strong>UPDATE ON THE UPDATE:</strong><br />
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Well, I spoke too soon this morning. I just spoke with the plastic surgeon. He told me that on Monday he will be able to tell what needs to be done next. While the tissue looks okay now, it could still need the "flap" (skin, muscle, and veins) if it continues to die in the next few days. A skin graft is very difficult on the heel, and even if he were to just do a skin graft now, later down the road (when I'm able to start walking on that foot again) I may still need to have the flap done then.<br />
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So it looks like next week I'll be back in surgery, but which direction is still unseen. crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-63140295513439772512011-05-16T14:11:00.000-05:002011-05-16T14:11:45.602-05:00Peace During the Process<span style="font-family: Arial;">Before getting out of bed this morning, I checked my email from my phone. I was procrastinating getting out of bed, and read something that my heart desperately needed to hear:</span><br />
<div><br />
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">"Patience is one of the fruits of the Spirit. (Galatians 5:22) Patience, the fruit, grows best when we are connected to the Vine, which is Jesus. Patience can be defined as…<strong>PEACE DURING THE PROCESS</strong>. Another name for patience is “longsuffering.” Suffering wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn't for the “long” part of it. But some things just take TIME. Some things require waiting, in other words, they require patience.</span></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">I have found that God is NOT in a hurry…about anything. When Lazarus had died in John chapter 11, verse 6 says, <em><b>“Yet, when Jesus heard that Lazarus was sick, He stayed where He was for two more days.”</b></em> You would think Jesus would have RUN to Lazarus’ home. He already KNEW the results that were about to happen. Jesus knows NO BOUNDARIES when it comes to what HE can do. He knows no time restrictions due to the fact that He is timeless. He has always been around and He will always be around. Jesus trusted His Father and THAT is all He needed. Note to us all...more TRUST!</span></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">In the parable of the 5 foolish virgins and the 5 wise virgins we it says, <strong><i>“The foolish bridesmaids took their lamps, but they didn’t take any extra oil. The wise bridesmaids, however, took along extra oil for their lamps.” </i></strong>Why did the wise virgins take “extra oil” for their lamps? They KNEW the Groom. They KNEW He always has perfect timing, yet is never in a hurry. The foolish virgins didn’t KNOW Him in this way. They thought everything would come together NOW…not later. Get some “extra oil.” There may be some “time” in between the promise and the end result. Be prepared for the necessity of patience. Remember, God has a plan and HIS timing is perfect; always!</span></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">What circumstances are YOU facing today? What has stolen YOUR peace? What has tried YOUR patience lately? No matter what we face, we can experience <strong>PEACE DURING THE PROCESS</strong>. Tap into <strong><i>“the peace that passes our own understanding.” (Philippians <span> </span>4:7) </i></strong>Let THAT kind of peace work <span> </span>“patience” inside of you that will be then become visible on the outside. Let nothing shake you. After all, <strong>YOU </strong>are friends with the <em><b><u>MAKER</u></b></em><strong> OF TIME!"</strong></span></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN">I needed to hear this today. For the first time since my accident (one month ago today), I am really struggling with patience. And peace. I just want to fast forward to the end of all the surgeries and recovery time. I have said all along that I believe God will make something beautiful out of this horrible thing, and that I was okay with the possibility of not knowing what that is. But as time goes on, I am finding it hard to hold firm to that belief. </span><br />
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<span lang="EN">I hurt. I'm tired. It's extremely frustrating not being able to do things for myself. I even wrote <a href="http://adventuresofacrispymama.blogspot.com/2011/05/poor-poor-pitiful-me.html">this</a> post on Saturday to vent about all of my frustrations. Tomorrow I go in for more surgery, which will only lead to another surgery. More pain. More recovery time. That requires more patience, which has been running short lately. God knew what words to put on David's heart this morning (the author of the devotional). PEACE DURING THE PROCESS. This is my renewed prayer.</span><br />
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<span lang="EN"><em>If you would like to be added to David's daily devotional email list, email <a href="mailto:DCTALKLINE@aol.com">DCTALKLINE@aol.com</a>.</em></span><br />
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</div>crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6667011589309708616.post-63530777714733013942011-05-14T18:09:00.000-05:002011-05-14T18:09:53.989-05:00Poor poor pitiful me...This is going to be my pity party post. <br />
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I am not usually one to complain about life. Things happen. Bad things happen. There is absolutely nothing we can do to change those things, so what's the point on dwelling on them? I don't live a life of regrets. I believe that we can learn from ALL life experiences and move on. When bad things happen, yeah it sucks, but I do my best to move on and learn from it.<br />
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A very bad thing happened to our family. 4 weeks ago today, in fact. A motorcycle accident that will have a life long impact on me and our family. It sucks, yes, but what can you do to change it? Absolutely nothing. So I've taken things in stride, including a LOT of pain, 2 surgeries, 8 days (so far) in the hospital, 5 days in rehab, medications that make me feel like crap (but take most of the pain away), time away from my kids, forced weaning from breastfeeding, my mom quitting her job sooner than planned so she can move in with us to help with the kids, me not being able to do a lot of things for myself (like getting a drink or snack), not being able to drive, missing work (which I LOVE).... the list goes on.<br />
<br />
I've handled it all pretty well I think.<br />
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But I'm tired today and feel like complaining today. So read on if you want, or not. Doesn't matter to me. I just feel the need to get this off my chest, just this once.<br />
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So here's my complaints:<br />
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I hate not being able to get anything for myself. If I'm hungry or thirsty, I have to depend on someone else to get it for me.<br />
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I can't even carry things around the house and, again, have to depend on others. <br />
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Though I can get in and out of the shower on my own, it is easier if someone is there to make sure I don't fall trying to get my towels or the removable shower head.<br />
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I hate having to clean my wound twice a day and changing the bandages. It's REALLY nasty to look at my foot and I really don't like doing it.<br />
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I hate that I have to sleep on my back, which is very uncomfortable all night long. I'm a side sleeper, not a back sleeper, and I hate it.<br />
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I hate that the pain meds make me feel crummy. They make me nauseous so I have to take medication to counter that. The ear patch quit working and just irritated my skin so now I have a suppository to help with the nausea. Not something you probably wanted to hear, but honestly, I don't care. It sucks. I hate it, but it works.<br />
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The pain meds also make me tired. I have little energy to do anything.<br />
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I also hate that when I do any little thing it wears me out. Just a simple trip to the bathroom takes a lot of effort.<br />
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What I really hate is that I can't even put my kids to bed. I can't carry Eli to his room and lay him in his crib.<br />
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I hate that I have a long recovery ahead of me. <br />
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I hate that as soon as the pain is starting to get somewhat better (I can now take just 1 pain pill instead of 2) I'm facing another surgery, which will just lead to another. The pain is only going to get worse.<br />
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I hate that this accident delayed my trip to visit my brother, sister-in-law, and their baby. She is 5 months old today and I have yet to meet her. I was looking forward to a trip we can't afford to finally meet her next month, but that is not a possibility now. I'm not sure when that will happen at this point.<br />
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So that's my list of complaints. I'm sure I could think of more, but I'm sure you're tired of "hearing" me at this point (if you're still reading, that is). I promise not to whine any more, at least not publicly. But I had to get this out, and I do feel slightly better now. Sorry for my pity party rant, but thanks for listening. I promise to be my positive self next post.<br />
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I even contemplated not hitting "publish post", and just leaving this as a personal rant. But for some reason I feel like sharing my complaints with others. No need to pat me on the back and say how well I've handled things, I'm not looking for that, so please don't. <br />
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Instead, share your current complaints! Let's share in our misery together. What's bugging you?crispymamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14389896263752840933noreply@blogger.com2