From the Mommy Files…

Archive for November 2010

OK, you read that and you’re like, “WHAT? Maria said that?”

I knew that would get your attention.

Trying to keep the sense of humor here, people!

You know I’d gladly do this all again and have another child, but there are circumstances beyond my control. So we might as well look at the positives!

Top 10 Reasons – OK – Reasons to Look on the Bright Side

–          I only have to potty train one more time. I have been peed on before. Those little buggers think it’s funny! NOT!

–          I don’t have to sleep train again. The first few days of letting them cry it out to learn to self-soothe can be brutal!

–          The number of diapers in my future is finite. ‘Nuff said. Which also means the number of poppy diapers I have to change is therefore also limited. 😉

–          I’ll get more sleep. As each day goes on, I get to sleep more and more like a normal person (I don’t have to get up for overnight feedings, etc). I guess this does change later when they start going out with friends. ;-(

–          We don’t have to buy a bigger car so we can fit another car seat. It really wasn’t in the budget anyway. Plus, can you just see all 5’ of me trying to drive a Yukon? I’m laughing just thinking about it.

–          In about 1 to 1-1/2 years, both kids will be in school.  I can then concentrate more on work or volunteer, and wait…dare I say…get my nails done once and a while and lunch with the girls? he he he. I’ll be like a teenager who’s parents went away and left her home alone!

–          I will only have to deal with TWO teenagers. From what I’m hearing about raising a teen today, I’m wondering, can we go to sleep around 13 and wake up at 18? Or just hit the fast forward button?

–          No more nursing. I never again will have to use that Chinese torture device they call a breast pump. (Insert cheer here!) And I won’t have those early nursing issues. I know I don’t need to elaborate. You moms know what I’m talking about. wink, wink

–          I’ll need babysitters less. It’s easier to get a neighbor or friend to watch an older child for a short time. And good babysitters are hard to come by. Plus, at $15/hour for a sitter, we rarely go out anymore.

–          We can get a life. As in social life. Hmmm. Wait, could this mean more actual ADULT time, like just me and the hubs? Hanging with friends? Wow! What’s that?

I’m going to try to add to this list, so I can stay focused and positive with my “new reality.” I won’t let this get me down.

I do thank God every day for my two beautiful daughters. God has another plan for me. So here we are. A new adventure awaits.


By now, you’ve probably read the tale of Boo’s bout with Squeakibenitis.

No, it hasn’t made a comeback, but it’s spurred a new toddler affliction.


You read correctly.

Yesterday, we were in the car, on the way to drop my sister off at the train station.

Bebs started getting goofy.

I asked Boo if she thought perhaps Bebs had caught Squeakibenitis.

Before Boo could answer, Bebs said, “Stinkernitis!”

She was trying to say Squeakibenitis, but it came out as Stinkernitis.

We all had a good laugh, since she is quite the stinker.

She kept repeating, “Stinkernitis! Stinkernitis!” and laughing, rather pleased with herself.

Oh boy, a new toddler affliction I’d never heard of.

How in the world do we get rid of this one?

I asked Dr. Boo, our resident expert in childhood maladies.

Well, Mommy, to get rid of Stinkernitis, you must drink lots and lots – make that tons of lemonade. This way, you go potty a lot and all the Stinkernitis comes out. And then you’re cured.”

Wow, that’s pretty simple.

So Bebs asked for lemonade. She drank some.

Apparently, it wasn’t enough, because later Boo insisted she must drink more lemonade to be cured.

This morning I asked Bebs if she was cured.

Stinkernitis!” she yelled.

Dr. Boo! Isn’t she cured?” I asked.

Maybe she got it again,” Dr. Boo hypothesized.

Let me look at her,” she continued.

After some time examining Bebs, Boo presented her final diagnosis.

Mommy, I’m sorry, but she might always be a stinker.”

Out of the mouths of babes.

So which one really has Stinkernitis? 😉

The other day, Boo was acting more goofy than usual. She began to make some strange noises.

I asked what was wrong.

“It’s Squeakibenitis. Look,” she said, as she pointed into her mouth.

Squeaky What?

Was it a person? Squeaky Benitis?  What’s that?

Nope. Apparently, it’s an affliction that little girls get sometimes.

She told me to look in her mouth. I didn’t see anything.

So I asked, what happens when you get Squeakibenitis?

You get a bad throat,” she said. “So you make weird noises and be silly.”


I asked her, “How do you get rid of Squeakibenitis?”

I’ll tell you tomorrow,” she insisted.

The next day came, and when she made weird noises, I suggested it was her Squeakibenitis acting up.

No! I do not have Squeakibenitis!” she protested.

You’re cured?” I asked.

What’s cured?” she inquired.

It means it went away. Tell me, how did you make it go away?” I replied.

Well, it moves through your body, down into your legs,” she described.

Then what happens?” I asked. “How do you get it out?”

Well, let me tell you!” she persisted.

You poke a hole in your foot…” she began.

What?!” I interrupted.

Oh, Mommy, it’s so small, you don’t see it or feel it, and it gets out of your body and then you’re done.”

Can it come back?” I questioned.

I sure hope not,” she muttered.

Mystery solved.

Now you know about Squeakibenitis.

It’s an uninvited visitor, that seems to leave just as fast as he came. It makes little girls MORE goofy. Hmmm.

I didn’t know that MORE goofy was possible. 😉

Ah, the imagination of a 3-1/2 year old!

(song to the tune of Frankie Valli’s “Grease”)

Chemo’s the word, it’s the word that you heard, takes your groove, it’s a meanie

Cause chemo’s a time, it’s a place, taps my mojo

Chemo is what we are dealin’

This mole is just an illusion. Wrapped up in trouble, laced with confusion

What are we doing here?

The other day, Bebs and I were in the car on our way to pick up Boo from school.

She had just gotten up from her nap and was hungry.

I want chewy bar, Mommy!” she asked.

I gave her half the bar and she began to eat it.

After a couple of minutes, she started to cry.

Mommy! My chewy bar!” she explained.

I asked if she wanted more.

It’s all messed up!” she replied.

Messed up? It took all I could muster to hold back the laughter.

What 20 month-old says something is messed up?

So I asked her just how it was messed up?

It’s all broked up! It’s broken, Mommy!” she explained.

I told her it gets crumbly so it’s easier to eat.

No Mommy! Not like this!” she retorted.

My chewy barrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

I asked if she wanted more, and she sobbed a defeated, “no.”

When we arrived at Boo’s school, I went to remove her from her car seat. I could see what transpired.

Look! See what happened!” she said.

It had crumbled all over her lap.

Take this please,” she said, handing me a fistful of chewy bar crumbs.

Thank you, Mommy!” she added.

You’re welcome, Sweetie,” I replied.

You’re a sweetheart,” she said.


20 months going on 10.

All right! Who’s messing with my cape?

I’m a super hero you know, with a big M on my chest.

The M is for Maria, Mom, and Molar Pregnancy.

I’m the Caped Crusader, for all the women who’ve suffered through a molar pregnancy and its aftermath.

I’ve had a few bumps in my road to recovery.

So I’m going to ask again.

Who snagged my cape?

We were moving right along nicely. Or as nice as possible.

After my surgery, I’d gotten a call from the doctor saying that the preliminary lab reports indicated that mine was a partial molar as opposed to a complete molar pregnancy, contrary to their initial thoughts. She explained that the chance of complication was only 4-5% – insignificant, in my mind at least. We were still waiting for one more test though, but she was happy with these findings. We’d proceed on the same course, to watch my HCG levels and hopefully they’d drop to ZERO soon.

I was happy.

I thought, wow, maybe this will be over quick and I can go back to my life, and maybe even consider trying to have another baby.

I went for my follow up two weeks post-surgery.

Who stepped on my cape? I just fell down. I scraped my knee for crying out loud!

There was good news and not so good news.

The good news: I had a really nice drop in HCG. I went from 176, 844 to 7,981.

The not so good news: the test we were waiting for had very confusing results. It said I have a complete molar with features of a partial. WHAT?

So they did another test and confirmed it was indeed a Complete Molar.

The difference?

The treatment plan stays the same. However, this means there is now a  12-17% chance of complications. That hit me. That is significant.

The chance of this happening again was now 1% as opposed to .5%.

The doctor kept reminding me that that meant there was a 99% chance everything would go fine.

That’s higher than the effectiveness of the birth control pill.

The doctor said if my HCG continues to drop as it is, she’d feel comfortable having a discussion in 6 months about getting pregnant again. I can’t get my head around that topic now. Too much.

But it still took the wind out of me. Who’s tugging at my cape?

Two days later, we were out with the girls at a church event.

We were sitting down watching a talent show. I started to feel something funny.

I actually thought I was peeing my pants.

I went to the bathroom and more blood than I have ever seen came out of me.

It was all I could do to not freak out.

I told my husband we had a problem. We were packing up to go home anyway.

The cramping started on the way home. It took everything I had to keep it together.

I passed the time oo-ing and ah-ing over the airplanes with the girls.

We got them ready for bed, and then I noticed blood was seeping out of my clothes.

I called the on-call doctor.


Did I have chest pains? Actually yes. That started the day before.

Was I feeling lightheaded? Yes.

He said the words I hoped not to hear: Go To the ER NOW.

Off we went.

4 hours later, 3 vials of blood, 2 internal exams, an EKG and an ultrasound and it was time to go home.

They determined that my uterus was not staying clamped down, so blood was pooling and now was trying to get out. EKG was clear. Ultrasound showed no damage, tearing and no products of pregnancy.

Can I just say, residents should not be allowed to do internals? OK, correct that. They should be able to, but if the patient is in apparent distress, the attending must take over. It doesn’t hurt when the doctors do it. I swear she was trying to torture me. I thought that darned speculum was going to come out my stomach, or even worse, out my mouth. It was the worst experience ever. And there’s no reason to put someone through that.

I was put back on Methargine – a drug used to help your uterus contract after a pregnancy.

I took a stronger dose and more often. It made me sick.

Thank goodness it was only for 3 days.

By the end of the week I stood for too long, preparing things for my daughter’s school party.

Gravity got the best of me.

Not as bad as the previous weekend, but heavy.

I probably should have gone to the ER.

After that experience, I wasn’t going back.

So I put my feet up and went to bed early. I was much better in the morning.

Back to the doctor a few days later.

A resident came in to discuss how things were going and what happened in the ER.

She mentioned that my HCG levels went up in the ER.


All right! Who’s the wise guy that put a hole in my cape?

No one ever told me that.

They went up to 9,981.

Now when the levels plateau or go up, you have to have chemo.

Tears came to my eyes.

What was happening?

Was I now going to need chemo?

She said, not necessarily. She said we had to wait until we got that day’s numbers.

I told her they told me at the ER that there was no damage, tearing, and no evidence of products from the pregnancy. So why in the world would the numbers go up?

She said there is a possibility that some tissues unrelated to the pregnancy were affected prior to the D&C and that could cause a problem.

We waited for the doctor.

She had the day’s lab report. My HCG level went to 3,027. How does that happen when they went up?

She said that this is why they don’t check the levels that often because there are sometimes natural fluctuations and you don’t want to change a treatment plan on a fluke.

The only explanation I have is God.

The week before, we went to church – first time since this all happened.

My priest did a special blessing for me for healing. Then he administered Holy Unction, anointing me with oil and praying for health, well-being and healing. It’s these prayers that made that number go down again. There’s no doubt in my mind.

She was very pleased with the drop and we’ll anxiously await the next check.

Now, why am I still bleeding?

We’re trying to get that under control.

We have to stop it, so I can heal.

The doctor also ordered another ultrasound,to see what’s going on in there.

A few days later I was back for the ultrasound. In and out in 15 minutes. I wish all appointments went that fast!

I got the results that night.

Why do they post them when it’s nearly impossible to interpret them?

I reviewed the report and began to Google things.

Much of it is consistent with pregnancy.

Obviously my body still thinks it’s pregnant.

So then I get to the last part of the report.

“Cannot exclude the presence of products of conception.”

Excuse me?

I thought it was all gone. The ultrasound at the ER was long and pretty thorough. A resident and an attending from OB/GYN department did the test.

Come on now!

Whoever else tugs, steps on, or tries to rip my cape is getting a karate chop!


I want my life back!

Well, the oncologist has me scheduled for visits until April. I hope we “break up” sooner.

What’s next?

Back on Monday to have my blood drawn.

Tuesday I have another visit and exam by the doctor.

Who knows what twist and turn this saga will take at that time.

Only God knows.

Now I will repeat. Stay the heck off my cape! I’m a super hero, you know.

I need to get better for my family, and so I can help other women who unfortunately have to go through this.

Do I need to be stronger in my language?

Get the F off my cape!

(Now if you know me, you know I don’t swear, so you know I’m revved up!)

I hope whatever it is listens now.

I’ve got some cape crusading to do.

So I am going to go repair my cape and I’ll be off.


Halloween is over, but my girls don’t want it to end.

Bebs misses the big kitty and all the fun decorations.

We go out, and she says, “I wanna see Halloween!”

She keeps asking for the big kitty. I told her he went away until next year.

“Bye kitty,” she says sadly. “Come back!”

Boo also wants to keep the celebration going.

It seems her motivation is strictly motivated by sugar.

I’ve allowed her 1-2 pieces of candy each day, but she figured out the hiding place and was sneaking it.

Gee, do you think that’s why she was bouncing off the walls?

OK, new hiding place found!

I told her that Halloween is over until next year. We’re going to put all the decorations away and get rid of the rest of the candy.

You’d think I just told her I was going to hurt the Disney princesses.

“That’s my candy, Mom! I have to eat it!” she tells me.

“But not all in one day!” I respond repeatedly.

Somehow, chocolate clogs theirs ears, and they just can’t hear what their mother is saying.

“Boo! Boo!” I call her. She doesn’t answer.

“Hey! You! Over there! I’m talking to you!” No response.

I find her and she is in the corner sneaking a lollipop.

So then I commit what in her mind can be construed as blasphemy.

I take the lollipop.

I throw it in the garbage.

So now the entire neighborhood thinks I’m beating her.

Or, if they have kids, they know I’ve either just refused them candy or took candy away.

There’s something about candy that seems to possess a child.

There’s this sense of great urgency.

They need to eat all the candy right now, this very moment. Or they’re going to die.

I’ve thought to myself that maybe I should let Boo eat her way through the candy bowl until her tummy hurts, that perhaps she might learn.

Nope. Just my luck, she’d keep me up all night wailing about her belly.

Then first thing in the morning, she’d ask for candy.

I love Halloween.

It’s a lot of fun.

There’s just too much candy involved.

At Boo’s school, I encouraged the parents to give non-candy gifts, so we didn’t get too much there.


Unfortunately, we didn’t have as many trick-or-treaters as we have in the past.

I think it’s a combination of factors.

There was an awful lot of trick-or-treating before Halloween. Maybe they were just done.

And it was Sunday night.

Thus, we were left with a ton of candy.

I hate to do it, but it’s about to meet the trash can in the alley. I’d drop it off somewhere, but I’m sure everyone has the same idea.

It seems that the sugar isn’t the worst culprit. It’s the chocolate. Can you say, CAFFEINE?!

Great! Little kids all caffeinated. YIKES!!


I’m not a party pooper.

I do love Halloween.

It’s my birthday, after all.

I know! Next year give a non-candy treat or only one piece of candy. Save money and a parent’s sanity too. Just a thought.

I really do like candy. But I digress…


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