My Hashimoto's Journey So Far

I have been really, really reluctant to share this because- well- it's hard to share stuff like this. Plus, I sort of don't know how this story ends, but I feel the need to share it because other people sharing their experiences and showing their vulnerability has helped me so very much.

I have been suffering with Hashimoto's disease (an autoimmune disease where your body attacks the thyroid and it results in an underactive thyroid) for over two years, basically since I got pregnant with Pearl. It took a while for the doctors to figure out what was up, a while longer to get the dosing right for my thyroid hormone, and then a long while for me to figure out that just taking thyroid medication wasn't going to be enough to make me feel better. I wasn't tested for the Hashimoto's antibodies for over a year, and I will admit to coming home and crying when I realized that this was a permanent, lifetime problem and not something that was going to resolve on its own. It also took me over a year to realize that the thyroid affects so much of what goes on in your body and that it was messing with my entire mind/body system. For example, during this time I was also having crippling anxiety, so much so that I could barely get out of bed in the morning. I would get scared when the phone rang, or when I had to get the mail, or when I would have to pack lunches or go grocery shopping. Basically every day life became terrifying. Add to that that I was living in the middle east and things were sort of crazy anyway, I was barely making through every day. I started doing breathing exercises and yoga to control my anxiety, which helped a lot, but I didn't realize that most of what was causing the anxiety was tied to the hypothyroidism. I felt like if I was just stronger or just chose not to feel anxious or if I "prayed it away" I would feel better. My whole body would go tingly, a lot of times without an apparent trigger and I was terrified of every day. Basically I would have major anxiety if I had to do anything other than sit in my house and do nothing :). But even being in my own house gave me anxiety because then I would feel anxious about the fact that I just couldn't do everything I needed to do.

Then I started to have panic attacks. I think that's the scariest thing that's ever happened to me. To be completely out of control of your mind and body for even a few minutes is like being in some sort of horror movie. I actually couldn't even control my breathing for those few minutes and felt like I was going to suffocate. It's hard to even go back in my mind right now and think about it. So incredibly scary. A couple of friends came over one morning just after I had my first panic attack- I was still in bed and had forgotten they were coming over and gave them a good scare when I wasn't answering the door- and one of them was married to a doctor and called him and had him talk to me. He told me not to be ashamed to get the help I needed. He told me not to feel weak or like if I just prayed I would feel better- sometimes you actually need real help. And he was right. It was a hormonal, chemical imbalance and just like any sickness it needed to be treated. I realized that I had prejudices against mental illness I didn't know were there. I was always very generous in my mind to other people suffering with mental illness, but when it was me I felt weak and wondered why I couldn't just pull myself together.

On top of all that, my hair was falling out, I was completely exhausted- like so tired my body would actually ache- and I just felt all around terrible. Sometimes I would laugh when people would give me compliments like "Oh I don't know how you do it with 6 kids, you make it look so easy." HA! I am barely surviving and I am just fooling you with a smile on my face! I would always try to get dressed and look put together, because honestly that does make me feel a little better, but I really fooled everyone but my very closest friends. It actually amazed me how easy it was to fool people.

Anyways, like an idiot, I googled myself into oblivion trying to figure out what was wrong with me, since progress with the doctors was just so slow. It's actually part of the reason we ended up traveling so much after Pearl was born - I thought, well I need to do a ton of fun things with my kids while I still can. Who knows how long I will have control of my whole body, or even how long I will be alive. So then I got a crazy case of health anxiety, getting scared if any little things went wrong with my body. In a way it was kind of good because I have really started to "live like I was dying." I have really taken every single day of good health as a gift and tried to use my time on earth more wisely.

Once we got back to the US I was even tested for MS since I was exhibiting a similar set of symptoms and of course that made my anxiety way worse. I was so scared of what might be happening to me. At one of my neurologist appointments the doctor realized that while a lot of my tingling issues were coming from my anxiety, coincidentally I had an undiagnosed neck injury from the two car accidents I was in in 2014 that was causing tingling down one side of my body. It's funny how that made me feel better... Like OH! You just have a neck injury, no big deal. HA. That relieved a lot of my health anxiety.

I then went to see an endocrinologist to see if I could get better treatment for my thyroid problems. He literally said to me, "Well, are you taking your thyroid hormone?" (yes) "Well, then that's all you can do." I'm sorry, what? I just couldn't accept that that was how my life was going to be, and that I would just have to be exhausted and muscle through every day. So I started reading books and doing research to see what else I could do to help myself. In the book I was reading they said to get tested for very specific vitamin deficiencies common in thyroid patients. So I made an appointment with my doctor and asked for the vitamin tests and she literally said, "There's no point." GAH! I asked if there were any vitamins or diet changes that might help me and she basically said what the other guy said, "Just take your thyroid pills." ARGH!

So I just kept researching trying to find anything that could help me feel better. I started taking a set of vitamins in January of this year that I read about in a Thyroid book and they actually helped a lot. Another friend recommended some herbs and vitamins that had helped her, and those helped some, too. I would say I was feeling about 80% of normal. Which was a whole lot better than I had felt in a long time!!!


In July I saw this article:

http://hypothyroidmom.com/anxiety-panic-attacks-depression-mood-swings-the-thyroid-roller-coaster-ride/

Out of desperation I went through and ordered every vitamin and supplement in this article. I also take vitamin D  because my levels are low, a probiotic, and Turmeric because it's awesome. Anyways, this combination of vitamins has been a game changer for me. (Aside: I'm trying out ordering my vitamins from another company and I'll follow up if that works out for me)... I would say I'm BACK! My hair is growing back (I have to use extra gel to tame the one inch long fuzz, haha). I don't NEED a nap almost ever, unless I want one, and I'm interested in life again. I actually want to do extra things now, as in more than just bare survival. Like for a long time I wouldn't want to make baked goods for my kids because it just sounded too hard. That's not me! It struck me one day last week when I just decided to make muffins for the kids that I hadn't done that in MONTHS. I love baking and now I actually feel like doing it again, among other things. I just trained for and rode a 100K (62 mile) endurance bike ride and I felt GOOD! I wasn't even exhausted that day - most of the others I rode the race with that day went home and took a big nap! I want to do the 100 mile ride next year. I signed up for another ride in October (51 miles in the hill country!). I exercise every day now, and I don't have to come home a sleep the afternoon away to recover! Most days I ride about 13 miles a day just taking my kids to and from school. I joined a boot camp. I signed up for swimming lessons (which I haven't started yet, but I will :)) I joined choir again. I'm doing it all and I feel awesome. Every once in a while I'll have a little tingle of anxiety, but I'm able to deal with it so much better with various coping techniques and a big part of the physical/chemical component of it just seems to be gone. Anyways, it's been a huge deal for me.

The last struggle (and I won't go into this too much because it will turn into a rant) is that I still weigh about 20 pounds more than normal. And you know what? That's ok. I am healthy and I am happy again and yes, my thyroid has messed with my metabolism and that is a little frustrating, but contrary to what society will tell you, it's not a sin to carry a little fat around on you. Being healthy is what matters and I refuse to feel bad about my body when it is such an amazing gift that can do so much. There is so much societal pressure to look a certain way, but that just doesn't matter. I often let myself get pulled into the mindset that there's something wrong with me if I'm not thin, but I've started to tell my body thank you for everything it does for me, and that I love her and that helps me a lot. I eat well, I exercise every day, and I have a beautiful, strong, healthy body. I am who I am, I look how I look, and I'm awesome.

Whew. That was a bit of a novel, but I hope it can help someone suffering with similar problems.

Love to all,
Melissa

A day in the life

Because some day I will miss this craziness and it will be fun to remember:

6:20am wake up

7:15am leave for bus stop. one boy forgets his library book and runs back to the house for it. he barely makes it back in time and runs full tilt to make it to the bus.

7:30am "boot camp" work out with some ladies on the compound in 95 degree weather.

8:30am super hot mess.

9:30am put baby to bed. actually get a shower. dang it, 2 year old emptied the puzzle cabinet.

10am-1pm clean kitchen, fill out about 30 insurance claims, wipe bums, feed kids snacks, clean kitchen again, pull 20 baby wipes out of the toilet that the two year old wiped his poopy bum with (yes there was still poop in the toilet). wash hands. shudder. wash hands again. wash hands again. 

1pm pick up boys from the bus stop, hurry them into the car so we can get to the US embassy to pick up our passports. i promise to take them out to lunch for good behavior.

1:45- 2:15pm get the last parking spot the absolute farthest away from the embassy. walk with 6 kids in 108 degree afternoon sun. make it through the line at the embassy only to discover i have not brought everything i need to pick up the passports. usher 6 kids back to the car. buckle up. turn around for home. listen to everyone grumble the whole way home about how hungry they are/how they don't want to go back to the embassy.

2:35pm got the stuff i need. trying to hurry back to the embassy and get stuck in traffic. freak out a little because i can't remember whether the lady said the embassy closes at 3 or 3:30. hoping for 3:30.

2:50pm got a better parking spot this time. 6 kids back out of the car, back into line at the embassy. got the passports! now off to superlate lunch... linner?

3:15pm i convince the kids it's a great idea to eat lunch at the coffee shop on our compound. i have had enough of doha traffic for one day. we take our sweet time eating and i even let everyone get ice cream. i'm so nice.

5:00pm we get home and the boys ask to play outside for a while. i put baby girl down for a nap and sit outside with the boys. i end up playing baseball with them in the street. feeling like supermom at this point. man, i'm good.

6:00 time to make dinner. as i'm making it my 8 year old reminds me he has to pass off his last item for his cub scout book before tomorrow- he is supposed to help me make dinner. i burn my hand on hot oil. he burns himself - a few times actually- on the pan. he drops a whole stick of melty butter on the ground, tries to pick it up, drops it again, it slips and slides all over the floor as he tries to get ahold of it. baby is crying the whole time. i have to clean up the butter. another kid is yelling at me from the kitchen to help with his homework. two others are fighting with each other. he burns a paratha, i burn some samosas. another kid is asking me to listen to his song on the piano. one kid walks in with no pants on.

6:45 dang it, i forgot to cook the vegetables. put them in the oven.

7 husband not home yet. baby still mad. still trying to help kid 3 with his homework, kids 4 and 5 trying to kill each other/break some bones while jumping on each other on the couch. have to send one or two to time out for various reasons. 

7:15 hubby walks in the door. big hug. pass off baby. dang it, i forgot about the vegetables... rescue them from the oven. still good, phew. ask hubby to help with homework, general crowd control so i can finish up dinner. 

7:30 set out our meal on picnic blankets outside - because the cub scout book says we have to- and have a strangely wonderful time picnicking... why have we not done this before?

8:00 put little ones to bed. ask big kids to clean up the mess the 2 year old made earlier in the day (emptied out puzzle cabinet).

8:30 play a round of video games with the big boys for helping clean up. 

8:45 snuggles all around.

9 all quiet. dang it, we need more food for tomorrow. quick trip to the store.

10pm time for chocolate. as usual.

probably won't get to bed until midnight. as usual.

Birth story!

Saturday Sept. 6 - 39 weeks pregnant- We were sitting eating lunch, about to go up to the school to set up the boys school lunch accounts, then go swimming. Dan started cleaning up lunch while I finished up my plate. I was just sitting there eating when out of nowhere, there was a little trickle of water into my seat. I wondered what in the world was going on, when then another little trickle came out. WHAAAAT? I drew in breath to tell Dan what had happened when a third and rather large gush of water came out. WHAT IN THE WORLD!!! My water has never broken at home and I got really scared because other times when the doctor has broken my water at the hospital, I was pushing a baby out within minutes. Plus, it was a full week before my due date and my babies never come early! I called out to Dan to tell him what happened, and the two of us were hilarious. It was like a movie. He got really wide eyed and went into hyper-speed, running around the house saying "What do we need, what can I do??" I ran to the bathroom to take care of myself and more water came out. I didn't know how much time we had, so I started telling my boys things they could do to help, and everyone was running around trying to get ready to go. I called my friends on my on-call list, told them what happened, and they were ready to take the boys whenever we were.  I also sent a message to my midwife so she knew what was going on. We actually got ready to go pretty quickly, but I hadn't had any intense contractions, so I decided to wait a little while to see if things started getting going. We all calmed down a bit, and Dan and I finished some things around the house.

Around dinner time, we decided to take the boys to their friends houses so they could get settled in and go to bed there. That way if we needed to leave in the middle of the night, we could without having to disturb everyone. They were all super excited to go their friends' houses, and we dropped them off all smiles and excitement. My contractions were starting to get more regular, but not more intense. Dan and I had a nice relaxing night, drinking milkshakes, having snacks, and watching TV. I timed my contractions and they were around 3 minutes apart. I had had a few more intense contractions, but not consistently.  I didn't want to get to the hospital too soon, so we decided to wait some more. Around 11pm I decided to go to bed to try to get some sleep. Dan was still a little scared that things could change quickly and just reminded me not to try to wait too long to get to the hospital. We went to bed and when I lay down I had several hard contractions and water kept gushing out with each of those contractions. I tried to get some sleep, but those harder contractions were making it really difficult.  The contractions were only a few minutes apart, so I decided we should probably head to the hospital since based on previous labors, I could go from those contractions to pushing a baby out within an hour or so. I sent a message to my midwife Charlene telling her we were going to head to the hospital before things got too intense. I did NOT want to be on the road in Doha in active labor. Around 1am we were headed to the hospital!

Sept 7- We arrived at Doha Clinic Hospital about 15 minutes after 1am and headed up to the first floor of the hospital. We had never been there before, so we followed the signs leading to the delivery room. The first door we passed said "staff only" so we kept walking and came to hall that seemed to dead end with a keypad access door. Ok then. So we went back down the hall to see if we had missed anything  and double checked to see if we had read the sign correctly. We had and we retraced our steps down the hallway, back to the keypad door. I decided to try that door and it actually opened, so we went through it and it dead ended at another locked door and a green curtain. I peeked behind the curtain and it lead to a hallway blocked by a divider. Sheesh. So I walked up to the divider and as I did, a nurse opened it from the other side and literally just stared at us. I asked if this was the delivery room and she said yes, but you're supposed to enter from the other door. We told her that door said "staff only" and she stared at us again and finally said we could come in. So she walked back to the desk, not saying anything to us, or asking anything about why we might be there or anything. Dan and I looked at each other like "What the heck?" So I just started talking and telling her what happened that afternoon. I was actually starting to wonder if she could understand us, because she was not responding! So finally I just said, "So I'm here to have a baby." She was quiet and finally responded asking if I had a file there. It took me a few times explaining things and a few times of her responding (her accent was hard to decipher!) for us to figure out what in the world we were supposed to do. Anyways, it was the most awkward encounter ever and I was SO RELIEVED when Charlene walked through the door just then. Someone who speaks good English and is on my team! Charlene had worked at that hospital and met that nurse before and kind of knew what to expect and was able to help things get moving.

We finally got settled and the nurse checked me and DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING and left the room. Charlene and I just laughed because it was so ridiculous, and she finally went out in the hall and asked the nurse how many cm dilated I was. I was about a 4 and things actually still hadn't progressed much. That non-communicative nurse was the source of lots of laughs, and I was so glad Charlene was there so I got any information at all. My contractions had basically stopped getting any more intense and I really wasn't making much progress.  We were all getting pretty tired and Charlene convinced Dan to go up to the recovery room that had already been assigned to us to get some sleep. They told us a certain room and he went up there and lay down in the bed and fell asleep. Not long after a couple nurses walked into that room and acted very surprised to see him there. Apparently the nurse downstairs had told us the wrong room, and those upstairs nurses were pretty shocked to find a man sleeping in the bed! So they took him to the correct room and he was able to get a little sleep in there. In the end I was up all night with my midwife, I was walking around and bouncing on the birth ball, trying to get anything happening. Around 6am I finally fell asleep for a little while and so did she. I kept apologizing to her for dragging her out of bed. She said I did the right thing based on my history and the water breaking and everything.

 Around 7am at shift change we got some actual human beings for nurses: several sweet Filipino ladies who actually volunteered information and even responded to us! It was refreshing :). My doctor came to visit me about 9am and checked me to see what was going on. I had progressed to a 5, but he said he could feel my water was still intact. HUH?? So I asked what in the world had been leaking out of me all night (because I had lost A LOT of fluid) and he said what had happened was the bag had broken somewhere else, like probably up by my ribs or something, and the fluid was coming out from there. That meant that the risk of infection was still real, as in I still needed to have the baby by 24 hours after the water broke, but because the water hadn't broken near my cervix, it didn't cause the baby to descend and send me into active labor. He decided to break my water at my cervix to see if that would get things going. He was having a hard time breaking my water, but finally he did and there was yet another big GUSH. The plan was that if by about 11am things hadn't gotten moving, he would give me some pitocin to get this baby out. Well, even after he broke my water, there was no change. The doctor had some appointments at his clinic and said he would get back as soon as possible to deliver the baby. So until he got back I was in the hands of the nurses and the on-call doctor at the hospital. At about 10:30 I was still stalled and resigned myself to my pitocin fate. I had been walking and bouncing and all that all morning long, so I lay down to rest before having to deal with the delivery.

 The doctor on call came to check me, and she said I was at 6cm and that my water bag was still intact. WHAAAAT??? Dan, Charlene and I laughed at the somehow indestructible water bag. That doctor left without saying anything else and Charlene was really annoyed that she didn't break whatever was left of that membrane. So along came 11am and the nurses came in to administer the pitocin. By 11:30 I had my IV and was ready to be done with this whole business!! Charlene guessed baby would be born by 1:30, Dan guessed 3pm and I sided with Charlene :). By about 12 the contractions started getting more regular and much harder, and I got a lot quieter. I have to insert here that I had been studying some hypnobirthing techniques from this website and I have to say I wish I had gotten into that 5 babies ago! It helped me SO much. I was really able to deal with the contractions so much better than I ever have before. In fact, it was kind of funny because I was able to deal with the contractions so well that I think I threw everyone off and they didn't realize how close I was to delivering. I had just been sitting in bed with the baby monitor on my belly, holding Dan's hand and getting really quiet for each contraction (other than asking Dan to tell me how awesome I was...) as I repeated my hypnobirthing mantras and scenes to myself in my mind.  I started breathing harder during contractions, and Charlene was asking if I was feeling the urge to push. Not yet. Suddenly there was a rush of discomfort and I told Dan and Charlene that I needed to move, so they helped me get onto my side and not 5 seconds later I felt a huge surge, let out a good yell and baby started to come out!! The nurses were AWESOME and swooped in and got to work delivering that baby, as neither my doctor nor the doctor on call made it in time. Within about 60 seconds, baby girl was out!! And she was actually a girl!!!

They placed her on my belly and I absolutely could not hold back the tears. That was probably one of the most emotional moments of my entire life. I had harbored so much fear during this pregnancy: fears of the all the unknowns about giving birth on the other side of the planet, fears of things going wrong during the delivery, fears of something happening to the baby, and they all melted away. I was so overcome by emotion to have my little girl, my last baby, my little Pearl. The tears flowed as I could not contain the sheer joy of the moment. Happy, happy, happy tears.


*********************

Now, I probably should end the story there, and I wish it had ended on such a high note, but the next few minutes I kind of wish I could erase from my little story.... This is a little TMI, so skip over the next paragraph if you don't want too many details...

Since my doctor had missed the delivery, the on-call doctor came in at this point to finish things up. She was a small Arab woman, maybe 5 feet tall, with a headscarf and little round glasses. She didn't say much to me at all, but proceeded to deliver the placenta and start cleaning me up. I am not sure if she thought I had had an epidural, or if she was just a terrible human being, but she had no regard for the fact that I could feel everything she was doing!! I won't go into too much detail, but let's just say she was not gentle while trying to see if I had torn and then did not wait for the lidocaine to kick in before stitching me up! YOWCH!! My doctor came in the room just as she was sewing me up (I only had one tiny tear) and he, my midwife, and I were all imploring her to be more gentle to me. She paid no attention to any of us, so my doctor actually gave me some laughing gas so I could stand what she was doing. Way to kill the moment, woman... Finally she finished and left the room (good riddance!) and I was able to go back to my happy place and hold my beautiful baby girl :).

**********************



 I was pretty much on the verge of tears the whole rest of that day. So indescribably happy I could hardly contain myself. I just couldn't believe that my baby GIRL was here and that for the most part things went really well. I feel like she is the most loved little person on the planet, with her 5 big brothers and two adoring parents. We are all so in love.

My beautiful Pearl....

and her adoring brothers.

Happy, happy, happy.

Baby girl!!??

I don't know how people keep up with publishing blogs. "Ain't nobody got time for dat..." :)

And as usual I don't really have time to write this, but I just wanted to record some thoughts about this baby girl I've got coming along here... So here we go...

It took me a long time to even tell anyone I was pregnant this time. I have gotten so worn out of all the stupid comments people make about my reproductive choices that I just wanted to wait as long as possible to have to deal with that. I got to about 18 weeks before I told anyone besides close friends/family. And of course the very day I started telling people the stupid comments started rolling in. "Oh I heard you're pregnant again?? Like you need any more kids!" "Haven't you heard of the big 'B' word? BIRTH CONTROL??" And who can forget the ubiquitous "WERE YOU TRYING FOR A GIRL??" *sigh*

(When Dan and I first got married we talked about how many children we would want to have. He wanted a big family, having come from one and loving it, I wanted a not-so-big family of 4 children since that's what I came from. We decided our minimum would be 4, and our maximum number would be 6, and we would take it one at a time- although with my prejudice against uneven numbers we not-so-jokingly said it would probably be either 4 or 6. So before we even had children I made Christmas stockings for Dan and me and had a lot of leftover material. I decided I would just go ahead and cut out 6 more stockings, just in case, so we could all have matching ones. So I have had those stockings in my closet, and have been using them up one by one, for the past 12 years. (I include this story because of how often people insinuate we have been "trying for a girl." No. We have been trying for humans, and we have been wildly successful....)  )

Anyway,  I was super anxious to find out the sex of the baby and here in Qatar they do an ultrasound at every appointment. At my 16 week appointment my doctor looked and told me she thought it was a boy. She said she couldn't be sure because the baby was so little, so we would check again at the next appointment. I was so sure it was going to be a boy that I just took her word for it and started planning out all things boy. I was actually pretty happy about it. Everything would work out perfectly: bedroom assignments, hand-me-downs, we even had a name all ready to go. I was all ready to have this awesome all-boy family.

One day it occurred to me that since we are planning this to be our last child I would never have the experience of having a daughter. Not something I ever would have imagined, but something I would never get to experience. In that realization I did feel some sadness. Even though I was actually pretty excited for our all boy world, I spent a good portion of that month working through some of those feelings of sadness. It was while Dan and I were planning our trip to Scotland that I had sort of an epiphany and laid that sadness to rest: Dan was getting really frustrated while we were planning our trip because there was just too much cool stuff to do there and just not enough time to do it all. I told him not to worry about it because whatever we ended up doing would be awesome and we should just enjoy the things we get to do. As those words left my mouth, I realized that was exactly what I needed to hear in relation to this baby: Just enjoy the life experiences that you have, and don't worry about the ones you don't get to have. This world is so big, there are so many places we will never see, so many foods we will never taste, so many things we will never get to do, and that's OK. Just enjoy what we do get to experience. We have always enjoyed the children we have been sent, and we will continue to do so!!

The day I went in for my 20 week ultrasound I felt very nervous. I don't really know why I was so nervous, but I really wanted the confirmation of the sex of the baby. As we did the ultrasound the doctor went through the whole anatomical scan and thankfully everything looked really good, so she finished and was ready to send me on my way.  UM, YOU FORGOT SOMETHING!! So I reminded her that she said she would confirm the sex and she went back to have a look. She spent a couple minutes looking at the baby's nether regions and uttered a rather ominous sounding "Hmmmm..." That Hmmmm made me all sorts of nervous... "I am not seeing any 'bits,'" she said. "What I am seeing is the three lines we look for when we are looking for girl parts." My brain pretty much could not compute what she was saying. All I could manage was, "Well, then you need to check again." I insisted several times that she keep looking and she did- for probably 5 minutes straight. She looked and looked and no there were no "bits" to be found. I have to admit I was pretty much in shock and in complete disbelief. The rest of my appointment I almost couldn't talk and had to have Dan answer some of her questions for me.

 I went to go settle the bill and sent Dan out to the car to wait for me. As I came outside, I burst into tears. The flood of emotions that came over me was pretty intense. I just sat in the car and cried. I was angry. I was shocked. I felt like I was being toyed with. I felt like I had worked through all these emotions and now there was this totally unexpected curve ball thrown at me. I felt like this would throw off my whole "awesome boy family" idea... It would mess up bedrooms and hand-me-downs. I never realized it before because when I started to have children I had made a very conscious decision to be happy with whoever came to our family, but way down deep I really did want a girl, and I honestly didn't know how much. In there somewhere I felt a little happiness, but I felt like it was too big of a risk to let that part of my heart open up, because the doctor might be wrong, and I NEVER wanted to be unhappy with who God sent to us. Each of my boys is a unique treasure and I was whole-heartedly ready to love another boy (because as we all know, once you hold that new baby in your arms, you are completely smitten, no matter who they are) but just the chance that it could be a girl brought out emotions that I could hardly handle. I realized I had carefully guarded that part of my heart, and the ultrasound laid it open and raw. I decided I would not believe it until I had more confirmation, because I just couldn't bear it emotionally.

The 4 weeks between appointments was pretty emotional for me. I tried to continue my long standing policy of not looking at the little girl clothes at the store, but I would see them an get a little rush of excitement. I saw a post on my sister's Facebook wall about a french braid tutorial and I almost welled up in tears thinking I might get to have a daughter to try that on someday. Dan and I went to Ikea and I saw a little girl room all set up and it was just so beautiful. All these things I had never thought about before started popping up and toying with me! I MUST REMAIN IN CONTROL OF MYSELF BECAUSE IF THIS BABY IS ACTUALLY A BOY I DO NOT WANT TO BE SAD ABOUT IT!

Even before we could have known the sex of the baby, I have had an awful fear that something tragic would happen to this baby. I don't think I've ever felt so scared during a pregnancy. (I have had 5 friends/family within the last year or so lose their babies. Each of which broke my heart and it has affected me this whole pregnancy.) Thinking it could be a girl seemed too good to be true, and actually heightened that fear.

So as the date approached for my next appointment, my heart had opened up more and more to having a girl. I kept replaying the first ultrasound in my head and the more I did, the more I realized baby was probably a girl, but I still felt so very nervous walking into that appointment. As we started the ultrasound the doctor (actually my usual doctor's husband) asked if I had any questions and I said I had one big one!! So that was the first thing he checked. He immediately checked that area (this poor baby's privacy has been invaded a little too often!) and zeroed in on the parts in question. He said he was 110% sure it was a girl. He turned to his nurse and said, "Now our nurses are very good at telling the sex of the baby, and they are very naughty about it...Sister, what does that look like??" to which she answered, "It looks like me!" Ew. But they both assured me it was a girl - it was pretty obvious. And then I believed. And my heart flooded with emotion. And I was finally able to let the happiness in. And I feel so very happy.

Once I finally believed (Dan believed sooner than I did) we realized we needed to think of a name. Other names we thought of before had been used on cousins or were only pertinent to a different time and place. (For example our last baby was "made in France" (sorry, TMI) and we thought of the name Marianne- a name I had always wanted to name a girl, but Dan never liked it. We looked it up and it was the name of the symbol of France, and many of the statues around France that are women are representations of her. So it seemed perfect... but that was then, and the name just doesn't seem to fit for this baby.) This time my idea was I wanted a name that communicated the idea of this baby being a gift or treasure, but also a name that was inspired by Qatar and the fact she'll be born here. I was looking through a naming website where they group names by category and I saw a category called "Old lady names." Now since our boys have all old man names, I figured little miss would want to fit in :). So I took a look and most of the names were a little too "old lady," when suddenly one seemed to jump off the screen at me. It is a treasure. It ties in with Qatar's history. I emailed it to Dan and he agreed it was a great fit. Of course we always leave the option open to change our mind, but for now this baby has a name that we think is absolutely perfect:

Pearl.


No middle name as of yet... there will be one, we just haven't thought of it :).


Now I just have to put up with people saying, "You finally got your girl..." all the time. Oh, well....

Lest you think I hate it here

In my last post I was having a bad day. Today, like most days, I am just fine. So you all don't think I am just miserable here, here is a list of things I like about being here. (In no particular order, of course).

1. The people. There are so many nice people here. So many people with open hearts willing to befriend and help people they barely know. We're all far from home. We're all a little lonely. And we're all willing to love each other.

2. The driving. OK I know in my last post I said I hated the drivers here because they are so very crazy, and oh my goodness they are, but in a way I feel like being here has taught me to be a better driver. You have to be so aware of everything around you, you quickly learn you absolutely cannot drive distracted, and you become aware of every car and you're able to anticipate some of the crazy things they might do. And I have to admit I kind of enjoy the excuse (because sometimes it's a necessity) to drive like kind of a jerk at times. :)

3. Being a minority. 8% of the population here is American/European. Dan and I actually play a game when we go out trying to see if we can find other caucasians. But it is interesting to see the world from a different perspective,  learn to appreciate the many and varied cultures around you, and to see what it is like to be the minority.

4. The chance to redefine/know oneself. I felt like a lot of the things that I thought composed my identity were kind of stripped away when I moved here. It's been hard in a way, but I feel it's helping me stretch and grow as a person to realize those things didn't necessarily define me and there are other facets of myself that can grow and flourish.

5. The desert. We have been having so much fun exploring the desert out here. Qatar is really small (if you placed Qatar over Houston it would reach from Montgomery county to Galveston) and you can drive across it easily in an afternoon. It's really fun just to take the car into 4 wheel drive and go out in the desert and see what we can find. It reinforces something I've always believed, which is "there is beauty everywhere." You just have to look around you.

6. The opportunity to travel. Really, this is 90% of the reason we came here. The world is just open to us right now, and it is so exciting. It helps me get through some of the things I don't like about being here to be able to have something exciting to look forward to. And there have been some very specific instances where I realize that it has been good for my kids. They are understanding the scope of the world- just how big it is- and getting to see other cultures and hear different languages and accents, and understand that people are just people wherever you go.

7. The appreciation of things you have. I took for granted how wonderful America is. I took for granted what good friends I have back at home. I took for granted how nice it was to live by family.  Being here has really helped me see and appreciate all those, and more wonderful things.

8. The boys' school. I am a little jealous of my kids' school. Like when George comes home and tells me about what he built in Robotics class... or when the kids came home from international day and told me about all the foods they ate, and the falcons they petted, the Palestinian dancers they saw, etc. Stuff like that. I love that even though it's an American school, the boys are in the minority. I always love seeing their class lists, too, with names like Noor, Gheed, Tameem, Mikaal, Booshi, Matheus, Shravan, Sedra, Leen, Anders, Hassan... you get the idea. I have also been really impressed with their grade level concerts. Decorated themed sets, dancing, singing, instruments. They are very well done.

9. The slower pace of life. School has early release every Tuesday. The boys soccer practice is all on Tuesday up at the school. The boys have after school activities on Mondays and the bus brings them home from those. Things have really slowed down for us and I feel the difference in my own stress level. As much as I miss our bikes rides to and from school everyday (and let me tell you my little heart positively aches for my bike and the bike trails) it has been nice to have the boys ride a bus. Henry is dropped off from preK at our door, so I don't even have to wake my little ones if they are asleep when he gets home. A lot of our activities (like a little music class I take the youngest boys to, or a photography group I attend) are on the compound, which makes it so easy to be involved in them.

10. The architecture. I have to admit, I really love going into downtown and just looking at the buildings. I also love seeing all the different mosques around town. There are intricate Arabic designs all over different buildings... I've thought of doing a photo series of them because they are so cool... (Maybe I'll attend my photography class for a few more months before I embark on that so the pictures will be any good :) )

I didn't take this picture, and it's not the full skyline, but it shows some of the buildings I like:

11. The events.  There are tons of free events to attend here. We went to a couple Ramadan events, a Porsche race at the international speedway,  a boat festival, the Motor show... there was a Nutcracker Ballet that we tried to go to, but unfortunately lots of other people tried to go, too, so it was full, but it would have been free :). Anyways, there are tons of free events around town, you just have to do a little research to find them (advertising is not always super good here). Here are a few from the car show:

Inside the convention center:

From the Porsche race.... See that little blur in the road? Super fast Porsche!

12. The choir! I'm so glad I found the Doha Singers. It has been so good for my soul to sing again, for real. I don't think I've really sung full voice for years. I forgot how much I enjoy being in a choir.

There is a lot to like about being here. And on most days, those things balance out the things I hate :)

Things I hate.

So.  One of my favorite sayings is "bloom where you're planted." To me it means wherever you are, whatever your circumstances, try to make the very best of it. I am a firm believer in this and it's how I try to live my life. I don't like to focus on the negative because I feel like that makes it grow in your mind.

Today, I am grumpy Melissa. So, I am going to make a list of the things I hate about being here, and then I will be done with them and back to focusing on the good of being here. Here is my mental dump, in no particular order:

1. Dust, sand, more dust, more sand. OOOH how sick I am of how dirty it is here. If the boys so much a step foot outside, they look like dirty orphan children. Anything that is left outside for any period of time is COVERED in superfine sand. I'm so sick of the feeling of sand on my hands and feet. I am sick of mopping the floor constantly.

2. Drivers. I have never seen anything like the drivers here. Just absolute madness. Seriously every time I get where I am going safely I offer a little prayer of thanks. And every time I go through a big, three-lane roundabout, where no one even remotely follows the rules, I get a surge of adrenaline and then a huge sense of relief when I exit the roundabout.

3. The house provided by the company. It's way too big. I never want a house this big again.

4. All of the appliances in this house. We are back to a "wash the dishes before you wash them" dishwasher, a clothes dryer that tears up clothes and takes a couple cycles to get them dry, a glass top electric stove, and oven that is about 30-50 degrees off temperature.

5. Most of the furniture provided with the house. Don't get me wrong, it was nice not to have to worry about furnishing the house, but they seriously got the cheapest, most impractical furniture for these houses. I could go on and on about this one....

6. Living in a compound with workers EVERYWHERE.  We live just a few houses down from the management office, and that's where a lot of the workers congregate. I seriously can't step outside my house without seeing one of the compound workers. I try really hard to smile and greet them because I want to treat them kindly, but it wears on me and I have a hard time feeling completely at home. They literally stare at me and the boys if we so much as walk by, and if we are outside playing a game of baseball or basketball in the street, we literally draw a crowd. It's so strange. If we go on a bike ride or walk, we encounter so many of them and I just get sick of it. It makes me sad knowing they are all far away from their families and lonely and looking at my kids and missing their own.

7. Water coolers. So sick of having to keep up with a water cooler. I miss my fridge where I could just get water out of the dispenser, or even just being confident that the tap water was ok. I am constantly running out of water cooler jugs and forgetting to get more, and I hate always having to hoist the 5 gallon jug up to the cooler. And I swear it always runs out on me when I don't have time for it to run out.

8. Being SO far away from home. It's just hard.


That's all for now. Now to get back to having a good attitude. Right..... now.....

The third time Paris has changed my life....

(Disclaimer: This has been much on my mind lately, and I think it's time to share. I am speaking of the world as I know it, and only of my experience.)

I'll tell you about the other two times some other time.... but for today:

Some pictures from Paris, and an epiphany.

These are some of the most beautiful sights from our Paris trip:

I liked these Paris sights even better:

But the real epiphany came when we got home and I realized, I like these sights the most. The every day, the "mundane". The most beautiful.

SO. The point of my story is this:

I was always jealous of people who got to travel. I was having babies and keeping a house and looked on as my friends traveled the world, enjoying young single-hood. I am getting my turn and it is really fun and I am glad we have had several opportunities. But there is something very important that I want to share:

Walking into a place like Notre Dame Cathedral, the Eiffel tower, or standing at the rim of the Grand canyon, or walking through a national park or wherever it may be that you're seeing the world is amazing. There is a rush of awe, feelings of wonder. But trips always end. And you have to come home sometime. For all the feelings of wonder and delight and excitement of traveling, they cannot compare to the soaring joy of being with the ones you love. People matter. Trips are fun. But love and people are what make life worth living. 

These little moments are where I find the true meaning in my life. I think it took a few trips and a few children for me to realize to the true value of what I have and how I have chosen to live my life. And the emotions I feel when I am living every day life with my family eclipse any I have ever felt anywhere else. 

I will close with a little paragraph from my journal a few months ago:

Tonight as I checked on my babies before going to bed, I was overcome with emotion. Somewhere, some time, someone must have expressed this better than I can... But the are times when the intensity of the love I feel for my children is so strong I almost feel suffocated by it. Like someone is reaching into my chest and physically squeezing my heart. It is almost overwhelming. The depth and breadth of emotion - both the joy and the pain- that I have felt since becoming a mother has made me feel intensely human... I have never felt more alive.