Reality Check

Several months ago, Shawn and I finally came to the conclusion that yes, after a few years of going back and forth on the decision, we really do want to add another child to our family. We've told our close friends who will pray for us, Noah and Avery, and our new addition, on this journey.  We've been pricing baby things again, strolling through the aisles of strollers, car seats, cribs, clothing and toys...  Fantasizing about what Child #3 will be like, whether we will have Daddy's Little Princess or another prince, what the baby's personality will be like, what she or he will look like--and so on. We've been making plans to add on to the house, and pay off the Jeep so we can up-size my vehicle.  If we have a girl, she's already named.  A boy--well, we're hoping that if we tell God we've run out of good boys' names....  Anyway.  :)

We planned to start trying this fall when the boys go back to school, and it's been a source of excitement for us.  Every time we see a baby, we both crumple into gooey puddles.  My friend lovingly and understandingly allows me to snuggle (and sniff) her adorable, happy seven month old.  Shawn and I smile at passing babies, congratulating new moms, while cooing, ohhing and ahhing at their babies.  We've watched Noah's riding instructor grow round with child, smiling, and grateful for her happiness and good health.  Oh, we've got the Baby Bug bad!

Foolishly, we thought it would be easier this time.  Even with my current health issues, much of it has felt under control, and we've gone along our merry way, planning and preparing.  After everything we went through with Avery's conception and pregnancy, we were praying for a break on this one.

Then we hit a bump in the road.  And all I want to do is cry.

My new doctor has been running many, many tests, and one of them was my progesterone level.  When the results came back, she explained to me that normal for a woman my age would be 200-300.  Then she showed me my level--12.  That's right, TWELVE.  Progesterone is the 'pregnancy hormone.' It's the one that helps you get pregnant, and stay pregnant.

Sooo.....  With a level like mine, pregnancy would be a miracle.  Staying pregnant would be an even bigger miracle.  Both Shawn and I had some tears over that reality.  It was hard to hear, especially after one miscarriage already.  It's very scary.  Even the mere thought itself of losing another child is painful.

The good news is my doctor said it's fixable.  With proper (natural) hormone therapy and supplements, we should have me on the road to recovery within a year.  That is optimistic, but possible.  I have begun the therapy, so we're on our way.  Another baby is still a possibility.

I'm doing my best to not see a down side to this.  Okay, so it delays things for a bit.  That will give us a little longer to get things in order and prepare better.  Then there's the side of me that wonders if this is God telling us a third child shouldn't be an option for us, or just flat out isn't.  As a Believer, I know this is all part of His plan, and it's up to me to only follow Him and wait it out while praying.

I'm not good at waiting, though.  I'm impatient.  I want to be better now.  I don't want it to take months, a year, or more.  I want it to be days, weeks.  My arms ache to hold my baby, to know the child I want so badly.

This time does give me better appreciation for the two miracles I do already have.  They fill my arms and my heart with love and joy.  Maybe that's the point.

Mother's Day

I know with a title like that, I should be reflecting on motherhood, but instead I've found myself reflecting more on my marriage, just because of how my husband 'does' Mother's Day.

Some days I don't know if I'm just plain spoiled by Shawn, or if he just "gets it."  I'm thinking most likely, BOTH.  

Is it my husband?  Is it me?  Is it us together as a couple?

Would he be this wonderful to a woman who isn't me?

Is it years of me, him and us not getting it right, and finally figuring it out?

Is it just because we've both been hurt so much by life, and by others, that we can truly appreciate each other?

These are the sorts of things I ponder.

See, I don't remember my father playing outside, or really, anywhere, with me.  Even when he was home, he wasn't there, if you understand my meaning.  I don't remember my parents being loving toward each other--even as a child, it looked forced to me.  My father was always doing something wrong, or just wasn't doing things right (according to my mother, and the general vibe in our house).  Shawn doesn't remember his father playing with him either, and domestic violence was an issue in his house growing up.  Neither of us grew up with good models for marriage, or even parenthood.

"They" say that most girls marry a man who is exactly like her father.  For the record, I did not.  I did a complete 180.  And everyday I'm grateful I did.  Everyday I'm glad I married not just the opposite of my father, but Shawn.  "They" also say you can tell how a man will treat his wife by how he treats his mom.  And you know what?  Shawn treated his mom like a queen.

This year will be our thirteenth wedding anniversary.  Have we always been this way?  Oh, absolutely not!  It's taken us years to get here, and I know we still have further to go, more work to do.  But we're headed there.  Shawn appreciates me, loves me, cares for me, cherishes me--and he doesn't tell me, he shows me.  As one of my best friends constantly reminds me, I'm a regular princess, and Shawn treats me as such.  The poor guy canNOT say no to me.  If I want something, he will beg me to not use my womanly wiles in my favor ("womanly wiles"--ha!  All I ever really have to do is say "Please?").  It takes work to get to the point we're finally at, and more work to get to where we're going.

I spent this Mother's Day camping with Noah, some of his fellow Scouts, and their moms--a Mother's Day mother/son campout!  Sigh. I really didn't want to go, and quite truthfully, it did not start out well.  I did not want to disappoint Noah, and I knew I would be missing out on a very good moment with Noah. And as it progressed though, things went very well.  I'm very proud of how mature and independent Noah was throughout the weekend.  We hiked, we played wiffleball (moms won!), slept in tents (because those were actually more preferable than the cabins--ick!), pottied in disgusting bathrooms (which were actually better than the ones up the road near the cabins!), survived the boys' cooking, managed to fall asleep even though there were incredibly loud frogs (and boys), and made it through the weekend without showering.  And you know what else?  WE HAD FUN.

So, how did I go from my husband is great to a Mother's Day campout and back to my husband is great?  Oh man, if you could only see inside my brain....  HA!  Well....

Remember I said Shawn knows how to treat a woman?  This is how he showed up at the campsite to pick up the Scout trailer:

Yes, he arrived with flowers, and Starbucks coffee for all the moms.  Ohhh, he's good!  He and Avery also had a hand-painted "#1 Mom" t-shirt for me.  Once we got home, it was "Mom's Choice" for the rest of the day.  We played with the kids in the backyard, he cleaned the house for me, we had lunch at Denny's, and ice cream for dinner.  

I don't have the answers to the questions above, but I do know that I've got a winner.  Mother's Day was a treat for me, and it always has been.  My husband knows how to treat me--a woman--and it's not just on Mother's Day.  He knows how to treat me as his wife, and the mother of his children, every day of the year (okay, just so he doesn't sound 100% golden, we do have our arguments!).

Thank You

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE WOMAN WHO PAID FOR MY COFFEE THIS MORNING:

I followed you for a bit, hoping to get a chance to pull up next to you at the stoplight, or maybe in a parking lot, just to say THANK YOU.  When you paid for my coffee this morning, you helped make my morning a little easier.  You really don't quite understand the kindness you did for me.

You see, after weeks of agonizing over it, and knowing it was time, I was taking my 18 year old cat, Sophie, to the vet for the last time after I dropped my toddler at preschool.  Making the decision was not easy, and the drive into town this morning was the longest one since taking our dog for the same visit back in September.  I'm not supposed to have Starbucks anymore, but I really needed something to help steel myself against the coming moments.

Sophie and I have been together since college--eighteen long years--and I can't imagine what the days ahead will be like without her.  I miss her already.  She will always be Mommy's Sweet Pookie, I will always remember how she used to try to steal my roast beef sandwiches, and growled whenever I fed her canned chicken.  It will be odd not going into the sunroom first thing each morning to check on her, and make sure the night was kind to her, and checking each night to make sure she was tucked in and comfortable.  It will be weird not checking baskets and bags for her as I pass by them, watching her try to stuff herself into the smallest baskets imaginable, and getting in Noah's face while we eat dinner.  The past few months have been hard for her, with seizures and convulsions, sinus infections and bloody noses, and even a bit of what we realized was kitty dementia.  Knowing how vibrant, playful and loving Sophie was as a kitten, it's been hard to watch her grow old and stop taking care of herself.

I knew it was time for me to make sure Sophie no longer suffered, that she have some dignity, and for me to be merciful to the cat who has given me so much.

I was impatient while I sat behind you in my car, wanting to just get the day over with.  I'm sorry for that.  I knew I was in for a long day, and I just didn't have the patience for anything or anyone this morning.  Thank you for reminding me that it's not always about me, and thank you for making my morning a little easier.

Self Worth

*I started this several days ago.  I will publish the finished and polished piece once it is finished and polished!*

I'm speaking this Saturday....  And I haven't written my little talk yet, so here I am, procrastinating!  Actually, I'm really hoping this will get my creative juices flowing.  I've put it off because the subject is Self Worth--something I'm not sure I really know too much about, quite honestly.  But here I am!  This truly is a very disjointed, free-thinking/free association rough draft, so please pardon the mess!  I'm really worried this is going to end up sounding like some L'Oreal commercial!

Anyway.

A few weeks ago, we started planning our Spring Tea at the center.  This year's will be a fundraiser, but it will still be the same forum as in years past--except that I'm speaking.  About self worth. 

WAIT.  WHAT?!?!?!!

I feel so un-knowledgable about this subject, so why I am writing about it?  Well, that part was up to God.  When one of my mentors from the center called to ask me to speak, for once I was speechless.  I really didn't know what to say, other than "I'll have to think about it."  My mind was racing with the Enemy's words: "You're not worthy of such an honor!  What could you possibly have to say that would be important enough to share with others?  Surely they've got someone better in mind!"  I know my mentor heard all of that in my hesitation; she gently and kindly told me to pray on it, and we hung up.  I immediately texted one of my best friends with, "WHAT IS SHE THINKING???" and told her what had just transpired.  Sharon texted back, "That you're worthy and awesome and capable of doing this!  She wouldn't have asked you if she didn't think so!  DUH."  OHMYGOSH, the pressure.

This is what I heard next: A big, booming voice, telling me gently that I AM worthy of this honor, and that is exactly what I would speak about--being worthy.  Being worthy of Christ's grace and mercy, Christ's love, Christ's sacrifice.  Just plain being worthy of HIM.  Then He told me to be sure to call my mentor back and make sure she knew I was saying yes.  *sigh*  It's comical to me when Sharon and God echo each other.  Well, sometimes it is--other times it isn't!!--because sometimes they're telling me things I'm really not ready to hear.  LALALALALALA....

Really, God?  Self worth?  Are ya sure?

Oh, if you could only really understand the irony here!  I have begged and pleaded with God for a simpler topic, something I am more knowledgable of, but He isn't having it.  I then resorted to procrastinating, but now my house is more spotless and organized than ever, the dog is exhausted from playing, all my people are at school or work so the house is quiet--so here I am, banging my head against the keyboard.

WORTHINESS is something I've struggled with the majority of my life.  There are many earthly people I haven't felt worthy of and have been made to feel not worthy of.  My self esteem is usually dragging somewhere behind me, tripping myself up, so I've placed myself last, as the unimportant person.  Growing up, I always associated even a good, healthy self esteem with arrogance, and arrogant was something I did not want to be.  I can be humble, I'm good at that.  The thing is though, I take humility to an Eeyore level, rather than keeping it at a Godly level.  I've never been good at acknowledging my gifts, or taking compliments.

I suppose then it makes sense that being worthy of Christ's sacrifice is something I would struggle with also.  What do you mean I don't have to do anything to earn His grace?  Are you sure?  As Christians, we learn that Christ would've made that sacrifice for each individual person, which has always left me in awe, and truthfully, skeptical at times.  After all, I'm not worthy of that kind of sacrifice.  I've never done anything to deserve it!  Matthew 10:30 tells us about His love for each individual child of His--if He cares enough about the birds, He cares enough to know the number of hairs on our heads because we are worth more to Him than the birds.

That's the best part though, and the part I struggle with the most, still--not having to deserve it.  Why would He care enough to know how many hairs I have???  "Because you are My daughter, child, and because I put them there."

Because I am scientifically trained, I decided to approach this from a more scientific standpoint, and looked up what good ol' Webster had to say about self worth:  "the sense of one's own value or worth as a person; self-esteem; self-respect."  I also looked up worthy: "having worth or value; honorable, meritorious; having sufficient worth."

Okay, well, those definitions explain why I struggle with my self worth!  But that still wasn't the answer I was looking for.

A friend found Hebrews 4:16 for me:  "Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."  So I chewed on that for a few minutes....  I've been to the throne.  I HAVE RECEIVED HIS GRACE AND MERCY.  I have been healed by the Lord Himself.  Annndddd why?  BECAUSE I'M WORTHY.

Because the scientific approach didn't work, I tackled this subject from my mommy perspective.  What do I tell my boys about their worthiness? Well, every day I remind them that they're good enough, they're smart enough, and gosh darnit, people like them!  I remind them how much they are loved and liked simply because of who they are: MY children, and of course, God's children.  Do my kids have to do anything to earn my love?  Absolutely not.  They are worthy of my love and grace simply because they are my children.  They don't have to do anything to deserve me and my love, they simply receive it.  Would I sacrifice myself for my children's safety?  In a heartbeat.  Do my children need to do anything to prove their worthiness to me?  No, never.  I love them because they are my children, plain and simple.  They are worthy of me, my grace, my mercy and my love because they are my children.  My children are worthy to me, but if I were to try to place a price on them, I could not--because they are priceless to me, and I cherish them.

Ohhhh.

There's my eternal struggle--by birthright, I am God's child.  He lives in my heart, I have accepted Him.  But what have I done to deserve such a love?  I've certainly done plenty to disappoint Him over the past 3 and 1/2 decades, but what I have I done to truly deserve Him?  That's the part I struggle with, not having to do anything to EARN His love.  I don't have to be pretty, or perfect, or smart, or the best little ministry worker, I don't have to be the best mom or wife, I don't have to scrub my floors until they shine, or even smile at every stranger I see when I'm having a grumpy day.  I don't have to pray and sing praise 500 times a day.  Simply put, I'm worthy of Him, His grace and His mercy because I am His daughter.  He is my Provider, my Father, my Counselor, my Prayer Warrior, my Secret Keeper, my Everything.  All He asks in return is for all of me.  All I have to do is accept His grace.  All I have to do is receive.  Earlier, I said that I've always placed myself last--but God places me first.  I've always tried to imagine how God places priority on prayers and His children, so right now I'm imagining all of us lined up as first--how does that work????  That's the thing about God, in sacrificing His son for us, He placed us all first.

Yes, I am worth the all-inclusive IT.  Because I am God's fearfully, wonderfully made child.  He knows every struggle, every triumph, every joy and sadness I will encounter in this life.  He has written my story in His book, and in that story, He has written about this struggle with worthiness so I can share it with you, so I can remind you that you too, are worthy.  A reminder that as daughters and sons of the King, we are not just worthy, we are priceless.

So here I stand, before you today, worthy because I am His daughter.

*Sigh*

Honestly, for lack of any better subject heading there!

I'm surviving the new lifestyle...  Sort of.  I'm no longer drooling as I pass Starbucks, no longer dreaming about frosting, no longer missing cheese or feeling as though I'm missing out.  I've been hitting the gym (yay me!), eating better, and just really trying to be better. The GF cooking isn't going too badly, and so far, my menfolk haven't complained (pretty sure they're too scared to....).  It hasn't been too difficult to revamp most of our favorite dishes, and I've just steered clear of the of the ones I can't.  I still have yet to completely embark on the dairy-free part of this (licking the homemade whipped cream off the beater is just too good to resist!), or the adrenal diet.  Quite honestly, I'm resisting the adrenal diet.  I'm not looking forward to three weeks of eggs, boiled chicken and brown rice.  Ick.  Along with my usual gluten-full baked goods, I've also been bringing GFDF dishes/breakfast casseroles to "work" on Thursdays.  Again, no one has complained yet!  These dishes have been well-received, and I've been encouraged by my fellow volunteers.  One friend even asked for one the recipes, and I kind of giggled to myself, as I had just kind of thrown things in the mixing bowl, in true Amy fashion.

I did hit the wall this past weekend, and sort of skidded into the Chik Fil A parking lot, barely remembering to put the Jeep in gear before screaming up to the register to order a sandwich, complete with mayo, American cheese, cole slaw and Coke Zero.  I followed it up with a milkshake, after I finished hugging the ice cream machine, of course.  When I was finished with that, I begged my husband to take me by Starbucks (he refused).  And the next morning?  I couldn't get out of bed without a Percocet first.  So, I've learned my lesson.  I'm definitely on the right track, even if I can't tell on a day-to-day basis.

The one thing I cannot seem to get my head around though, is this GLUTEN FREE BAKING.  Pretty sure I'm going to die trying. So far, every single loaf of GF bread has gone in the trash.  One loaf was okay enough to make into bread crumbs, but certainly not good enough for actual bread, and definitely not up to my usual standards.  The others weren't even good enough for bread crumbs!  Last week, I actually turned out five absolutely perfect and gorgeous loaves of gluten-full rosemary-olive oil and italian bread, just to remind myself that I am great at baking, because it's been so horribly disappointing for me.  There have been tears, there's even been screaming and stomping of my feet, and yes, I'm still scraping GF pizza "dough" off the wall after I threw it in frustration...  Or tried to, but it had the consistency of mashed potatoes, so it kind of stuck to everything.  For the record, my family's gluten-full pizzas turned out just beautifully that evening.  Ugh.  All I wanted was pizza that night, and I was just really upset about yet another failed GF baking attempt.

After I stomped headed off to sulk in the bath tub, my dear husband decided he was going to save the day.  He researched another recipe from a website I frequent, and set to work.  I saw the result--a cracker-like crust, no sauce (tomatoes are nightshades, which cause/contribute to inflammation...), rice-based cheese, and broccoli as a topping--and immediately declared it Crap On A Cracker.  Being the two year old brat I felt like that evening, I flat out refused to even touch it.  No.  You can't make me.  Uh-uh.  

Soooo....  You know how sometimes as a parent you say something and immediately are made to regret it?  Yep.  Avery picked up on what I was calling the GFDF pizza, and thought that was the real name.  Unfortunately, we haven't been able to convince him that it's pizza, so whenever he asks for it (he seems to really love the stuff!), he asks for....  Crap On A Cracker, with absolutely no clue that it's a bad word.  Oops.  When we try to correct him, saying "Oh, you want pizza?"  He is adamant, "No!  I don't want pizza!  I want Crap On A Cracker!"

The other side of that story is that, as it turns out, I'm allergic to some part of that pizza.  We're not sure which ingredient yet, but Shawn was certain at first that I was exaggerating or making it up, just because he'd made it and I didn't want to eat it.  At first it was just my tummy that hurt, then my chest got tight and I felt like I had a lead weight on my chest, then my mouth got fuzzy, and finally my lips got numb.  When he realized my NP friend was screaming across her texts "TAKE BENADRYL NOW," he knew it was for real!

*Sigh*

My Personal Theory, Why I Have Sons

Surprisingly (or not, if you know me well enough), I've given this topic a lot of thought.  Over twelve years of deep thought.  And I've finally arrived at a satisfactory conclusion:  I have sons (rather than daughters), because I'm supposed to teach them how to be proper husbands and daddies.

A-ha!  Gotcha--bet you were thinking to yourself, "Wow, that's the shortest blog she's ever written!"  Sorry.  I'm not finished yet!

When I found out I was pregnant with Noah, my first thought was, "Dear God, please let this child be a girl, I have no idea what I'll do with a boy."  There were a lot of stressors throughout Noah's pregnancy,  the least of them being that he was a bit of a surprise.  I thought for sure if I had a girl, I just might be able to get a slight grip on motherhood.  We went in for our first sonogram, and lo and behold, there were boy parts up on the screen.  I even argued with the tech, telling her in no uncertain terms that she sucked at her job because it was obvious to me that was an umbilical cord.  Then I wanted her to double check and make sure she'd taken down the previous client's screen.  Then I wanted her to double check my child and my screen.  Then I wanted it confirmed by the doctor.  To say Shawn drove home with a shellshocked Amy in the passenger seat, mumbling, "What am I going to do with this BOY?" the entire way would be an understatement.

When we were finally pregnant with Avery, I remember telling Shawn that this time I was certain we were having a girl!  God wouldn't give us TWO boys!  And again...  We both walked out of the clinic a little shellshocked that time after seeing boy parts on the screen.  Another BOY???  What am I going to do with TWO BOYS????

Well, I'll tell you what I'm doing with them--I'm loving them, teaching them, raising them up in the way of the Lord, caring about them, and caring for them.  I play with them, I laugh with them, I live with them, and I cherish them.  They are my gifts.  That's not to say we always get along, or they always love what I'm teaching them, but we are making work for us.  And now, I could never even begin to imagine life without them.  I don't want to imagine life without them.  And really, I'm not sure I can imagine raising a daughter!  I love these boys more than life itself, and the things they bring to my life are innumerable, and immeasurable.  Along with teaching them, there are the countless things they teach me about myself, about life, and about themselves.

I've shared a bit of my past with my father before.  I wanted to be cherished, I wanted to be loved, I wanted--needed--to be Daddy's Little Princess--but I wasn't.  I tried lying to myself, and others, for a long time that I was; I made excuses for my father, but the truth is that he was never emotionally available, and there was never a connection, nor the real relationship I craved and needed.

This is where it becomes about my grandchildren and my future daughters-in-law.  I love them already without even knowing who they are, and I want my sons to do the same.  I want them to treat their wives and children the way their dad, my husband, treats me, and the way I treat them.  I want them to understand respect and love, the need for relationships, attention, and playtime, the need to be brothers now so they can be great brothers, dads, husbands and uncles later.

This is why God gave me sons rather than daughters....  So I can help raise up a new, better generation of husbands and daddies.

(And you never know, there's still a chance Shawn will get his little princess, if it's God's will--I haven't given up hope yet!)

The Devil is in the Ingredients

Sooo....  It's been a while.  I think this is the longest I've ever gone without posting.  It's not for lack of having something to say--you know me, I always have plenty to say!  I've been more tired than usual, busy with the boys, busy with life--and yes, avoiding things.  Too many things are too painful to discuss, so I've been hibernating.  That's typically what I do during winter, anyway--hibernate.  If I believed in such a thing, I might believe I were a bear in a former life!

I have distributed the video games to the boys (bad Mommy!), and sent them to Noah's room, so maybe I can have a few minutes to myself to update y'all on the latest.  Heck, if I have a few moments to myself, maybe I should go sneak in a nap....

I recently saw a new doctor.  After researching and searching, I figured out that what I really needed is a hormone specialist.  For the past year or so, I've been trying to get my doctors to pay attention to my thyroid and a few other things (like the fact that I've been having a period 2-3 times a month...), but they've all sworn everything is fine.  THEN HOW COME I DON'T FEEL FINE??????  I mean, besides all the ways I already don't feel fine, of course.  Apparently no one has the answer for that--or they do (it's all in my head), and they just aren't willing to tell me.

I ventured out of my comfort zone and found a holistic hormone specialist.  I really wasn't sure what to expect, but I knew that having tried just about everything else, and having seen every other expert at world-renowned hospitals, I owed it to myself and my family.  We had nothing to lose, and maybe even something to gain.

This doctor began her career as a traditional MD, which I liked, but quickly realized she could not treat her patients "the way they deserve to be treated, and need to be treated within the confines of traditional medicine," which I loved.  She sat with me for two hours, took a more detailed medical history than any other physician ever has, and carefully explained to me we're not dealing with just twelve years of crap, we're going all the way back to my first ear infection, and dealing with 36 years of crap--asthma, allergies, antibiotics, steroids, other various medications, life stressors and unhealthy ways of dealing with them--and so on.  I'm telling you, just having her listen to me released a huge weight from my shoulders.  I no longer felt crazy, I felt validated and reassured.  I also dared to feel hope, and to think that there could be pain-free, weakness-free, exhaustion-free days in my future.

Pending lab results, she has tentatively diagnosed Hashimoto's (I KNEW there was something hinky with my thyroid!), hypoglycemia (which should clear up with lifestyle/dietary changes), adrenal fatigue (which actually sounds more like adrenal COMA in my case), gluten intolerance and possibly dairy/casein intolerance.  She is keeping the fibromyalgia diagnosis for now, and people--WE ARE DITCHING THE POLYMYOSITIS DIAGNOSIS!  Most likely, the muscle inflammation originally diagnosed as Polymyositis is caused by the gluten problems.  That's interesting to me, because it's been a theory of mine for a while--and I finally have a doctor confirming it.  I went through a gluten intolerance checklist she gave me; scoring a 4-5 meant there could be a problem, go ahead and try a GF diet and see what happens, anything over 9 meant you most likely have a problem.  I SCORED A 20.  Yes, you read that correctly--a TWENTY.  Gluten intolerant much?!?!

So what does all of this mean?  Well, for starters--I've got to revamp my dietary lifestyle.  Completely.  My doctor recommends a dairy free diet at the same time one tries gluten free, and honestly, that's the part that is truly killing me.  There is nothing I love more than CHEESE.  And cooking with butter?  Oh yeah.  I've only been at it (and if I'm being honest, it hasn't been full-on at it yet) for about a week and a half, but the first few nights I actually dreamt about cake, frosting and Cheez Its.  One night, I even dipped the Cheez Its in the frosting in my dream.  I haven't had my chai, or Starbucks, in nearly two weeks, and it's been six days without soda (I'm dying.....). I have yet to really get a handle on the baking and cooking aspect, so I'm kind of surviving on spinach, coconut milk yogurt, carrot sticks and apples (why have I not dropped 30 pounds yet??).  Along with the GDDF lifestyle changes, I also need to start an adrenal diet that lasts for 2-6 weeks.  This is a very bland diet centered around changing your brain and your body to new ways of thinking and eating, ridding yourself of the sugar cravings, resetting the hormone imbalances that have occurred due to eating improperly, and so on.  There were also some exercise recommendations, but seriously, I don't really have the energy yet for that.  I know  exercise and energy are related--you get the energy when you exercise--but you also need to have that energy to begin with!  And while it's still a matter of having the energy to play with my kids or do what needs doing as a mom and wife, vs. exercising, we'll see.   Dr H has also started me on a few new supplements and vitamins, replacing some of the ones I was already taking, removing some of the others, and keeping a few I still need.  For now, I am still on all the other prescription meds as well (and I'll continue to see my other doctors), but the hope is that we can undo all that's been done inside of a year, and I will be able to come off those meds!  I just can't even imagine a life without pain, mood swings and depression, prescription medications, doctors upon doctors and everything else we've been through.  Wow!

I will tell you that withdrawal from all of this SUCKS.  I know I will be healthier for it, and around longer because of these lifestyle changes, but seriously, I'm the one who has always chosen frosting over a carrot stick.   I would love to pull into Starbucks and order several gallons of chai. I would give my right hand for brie that won't make me sick. And right now, there's a gluten-FULL loaf of bread on my counter that looks delicious, and homemade buttercream frosting in my fridge....  Yep, you know where I'm going with that one!  I've been a super b**** on wheels since starting all of this (thank goodness for Shawn's patience!), and I do feel a little deprived.  At the same time, I know that will go away as I learn more and expand my food horizons.  My pain has increased quite a bit, and I've had headaches almost every day, but again, I'm sure that's related to my desperate body trying to hang on to the last bit of crap left inside it.

I do plan to keep up with my regular gluten-full baking.  As of right now, I'm the only one on these diets (although, if it works for me, I'm tempted to switch the boys over to it also and see how they do), so my family still needs to eat. Family meals will be GFDF, and they'll just have to deal, but otherwise, their foods will not be GF for the most part. I also still need to do my baking for work, and I can't expect everyone to switch over because of me.  I will continue to learn new recipes in the gluten world while I learn how to conquer the GFDF world!

I have been blessed with others emptying their pantries into mine with their unused GF cooking and baking products, and I am so grateful for it.  There is a lot of good advice out there, and another mom in Avery's class has been a wealth of help and encouragement.  My support network has expanded, and I feel very positive about this.  There's definitely been some frustration (realizing that if something is GFDF, it's probably not soy free!), and a little bit of anger.  I'm going through the whole grief 'thing,' but really, this is just another new normal I need to accept in the ever-fluctuating trials of life.  And truly, I'd rather have to accept this new normal than take more pills that don't work, and see more doctors who haven't a clue.

Looking forward to feeling better... In left field.