I’ve thought about this post for a week. It’s one part health story, one part important lesson, and one part me bragging about being in touch with my body. I honestly don’t know where to start without sounding pompous. There’s a chance, though, that it could save someone’s life. So obviously, in addition to sounding somewhat arrogant, there will also be overly dramatic statements.

Fifteen years ago, I saved my daughter’s life. I was five months pregnant and wasn’t far enough along to be concerned with fetal movement, but when I noticed her kicking had decreased over a two-week period, I told my doctor. I stressed the change. I told her I felt like it wasn’t right. I told her there was a big difference in what I had felt to what I was feeling. She wasn’t worried, but scheduled an ultrasound. Four weeks after I first noticed a change, I had the ultrasound and my daughter was born via emergency c-section shortly after. The doctor told us that if we had waited just a week or two more, she would have been stillborn.

If she wasn’t around, who would harass him?

Fast forward to three months ago. I started taking hormones to control post-surgical pain on my girly parts. Okay, I’ll say it. My uterus. One of the side effects of the medication is blood clots, but I discussed it with my doctor and because I don’t smoke, the risk was low. Two weeks ago, delightfully pain-free, I flew to Miami for work. The day after I arrived I developed severe calf pain. Did you know that flying can case blood clots? It can.

I chalked it up to my new shoes, took some Ibuprofen and dealt with the pain off and on for the next week. I felt the aching at odd times (sometimes when standing, sometimes when in bed) and that’s what made me call my doctor. I wasn’t doing anything to trigger it. I gave it a week, so I knew it wasn’t my shoes. There was no redness, no swelling, the pain wasn’t bad and went away with a couple of Ibuprofen, but it just felt odd to me. Something wasn’t right.

I ended up in the ER a couple of hours after seeing my doctor and started taking blood thinners for Deep Vein Thrombosis the next day. If you have the good fortune of not knowing how dangerous DVT can be, let me just tell you that it can kill you. The blood clot can break off and go to your lungs and you have virtually no chance at surviving.

Needless to say, I’m no longer taking those hormones. I am, however, taking a blood thinner for the next 90 days. I can’t do my beloved workouts; at least not at the level I was. I am limited to upper body strength training, nothing too strenuous and working my calf is forbidden. My uterine pain is back with a vengeance and I can’t have a hysterectomy until I’m off the blood thinners. Catch 22, anyone? Oh, and I CAN’T DRINK ALL SUMMER LONG. But, I’m alive and so very thankful.

Long story, long – KNOW your body. If something doesn’t feel right, get it checked out. Trust me, I know going to the doctor is inconvenient and there is a really good chance that it’s nothing, but there’s also a chance that it isn’t.

Don’t chalk it up to new shoes. Call your doctor. Your body will thank you for it.

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I burst into tears at a birthday party last night.

Either this means I have to increase my Zoloft again, I’m really upset about my friend turning 40, or I am extremely worn out. I’m going to go with the latter, though I am almost 43 so I may be secretly bitter about my young friend.

My husband and I used to work with a guy whose accent made him say, ‘tired’ like ‘tarred’. Folks, I’m tarred. Really. It’s like I’m swimming in the hot, thick, black goo that we coat our driveway with. I’ve been out of town four weekends out of the last six, I just came out of the second busiest part of my work year and am heading like a speeding bullet into the busiest, and who can forget this?

There has been so much more going on that I won’t list here, but I literally don’t even know what day it is; I sent a company-wide email today declaring that it was Monday. For your information, and mine, it’s Tuesday. I think.

So, if you see me and I look like a zombie it’s because I am. Please be gentle with me, give me a pat on the back, tell me it will be okay, that I’m doing a good job in the midst of this chaos, and for CRYING OUT LOUD buy me a drink and send me to bed. I’m begging you.

Even if I can’t do it as cute as that puppy can.

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Two days ago was my son’s 12th birthday; the day to commemorate how far he’s come after beginning his life being whisked away via ambulance to another hospital. The same hospital where his dad and I have sat, time after time, wringing our hands in the waiting room during his many surgeries. This child of mine, for whom I have given so much time and even more energy is now nearly a teenager. I never thought we’d make it this far.

And, yesterday was Mother’s Day; a day to remember the first time I held my son. A day for me to cherish my boy and his sister and, honestly, after the 12 years we’ve had with my youngest that’s all I wanted to do. I wanted to savor every moment of motherhood.

The combination of these two important dates were churning up a lot of memories. I was feeling pretty emotional, so when I found out my son was writing some nice things about me at his Scout banquet the other night I thought it was perfect timing. I knew it would be just what I needed to make me feel better and focus on the present.

As I stood with other parents, he approached me with this.

Then he handed it to me and said, “Here, Mom. I’m sorry I drew you so fat.”

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Just over a week ago, we got this.

Obviously, we’ve lost our minds.

This little bundle of trouble is Luna. She has been busy chewing on cords, peeing in the house and terrorizing our other dog. We do not have time for this puppy. We can’t afford this puppy. We definitely don’t have the energy for this puppy.

We also know that if you wait for the right time, it will never come. And, we can barely afford bread but that doesn’t stop us from buying it.

There are a lot of reasons why I can justify getting this dog. Mostly, it’s because our daughter is just a few years away from college and our son is almost a teenager and there isn’t anything better than a puppy to create forced family time with your children.

Plus my kids are getting hard to snuggle and they aren’t as soft. And, they don’t have sweet chicken liver breath. If I could have kept my babies little, I would have. Not too small, though. Not so small you can’t take them to movies or go to restaurants. And, definitely not small enough to have to wear bibs all the time. Two words. Re. Flux.

Of course if I had been able to keep my kids small I probably wouldn’t need a puppy so badly. That is likely the REAL reason I said yes to this fluffy ball of fur. I think part of me will always have the desire to care for something less self-sufficient than I am. Deep down I need to be needed.

Or, I just really like chicken liver breath.

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