It's that time again!

It's the last day of the month! So keeping with tradition, today is my progress picture day.

The weight loss has definitely slowed to a downright crawl this past 6 weeks or so and I didn't expect to see much progress between last month & today. I was right! Not too much progress but there is still some in my abs and overall I look a little smaller. I'll take every lost inch & pound that I can get though, and don't you forget it!

With my tummy tuck in just over 3 weeks I'm pretty sure there won't be a 6 month pic. Maybe just a pic of my entire (tighter!) trunk sewn back together. I know, I know, I'm gross. Who knows, maybe I'll be up for it just 1 week after my surgery. I doubt it though. I can't wait to get rid of all this loose skin around my belly button & below. I am so incredibly excited over the thought of possibly sporting a 6-pack again in my mid-section!!!!!

What is that I see? Is that my long, lost collarbone beginning to emerge?! Bones are emerging as my boobies are disappearing....

green thumb? wish me luck!

I planted our garden today.

It amazes me how my allergies are still growing by leaps & bounds, each year seemingly taking the cake over the year before. Soon I shall live in a bubble...you know, like you'll drive by and see me in a large hamster wheel tooling around my yard or sumpin'.

Freshly cut green grass + the bottom of my feet = oozing, itchy raw blisters. gross.

Green vegetation of any sort + my skin = itchy, rashy, swollen, hive infested, painful body. Photosynthesis + Marissa = bad.

Outside air in general during pretty much 3 seasons of the year = itchy, dry, watery eyes. Yes, it is possible to have dry & watery eyes at the same time. Try it, you'll like it. It's a wonderful sensation. Itchy nose. Pounding headache. Yum.

I crave controlled temperature environments - aka indoors + air conditioning. My husband lovingly refers to me as his shut-in.

And yet this gardening thing - I do it again & again to myself each year. Ask Garth how much I love to hate gardening. I also hate that I love it too. Some years my heart just plain isn't into it. But I love it so much that I always kick myself those years, that I didn't suck it up and do more out there. This year, a new me, a new start, I kicked it up a notch.

Roma tomatoes, cherry tomatoes & whatever variety of tomatoes Garth added in this evening.

Green peppers. Red peppers. Corn. Watermelon. Carrots. Cucumbers. Some sunflowers thrown in for good measure.

Oregano, basil, a little catnip for Daisy Mae.

Tomorrow I'll plant J's pea plant that is the best looking plant we've grown from seed so far this year. I forgot it in the kitchen window sill today but with a little luck tomorrow, I'll remember.

Lavender planted alongside the house. Should be a great addition to the lemon balm or whatever the heck my SIL gave me a few years back that has to be pruned back almost weekly out there. Sure smells good but dang its a hearty, ever-spreading plant.

I threw some flower seeds into a couple of porch pots and we'll just wing it as to how those work out.

I planted the flowers I received from the kids on Mothers Day into 2 pots and I'm sure they'll be the prettiest pots out there.

With a little luck, a lot of sunshine & some healthy doses of water, we should be reeling in a serious bounty this year. My newly acquired love of canning should come in mighty handy come late summer. Mmmm, I can almost taste that homemade salsa now...

Mother Earth, be good to us this year. Please make my itchy, swollen hands worthwhile.

its the final countdown.

"You look really, really skinny today. You're just melting away!"

I heard those words this morning.

Finally taking my husbands advice and not insisting on denying the obvious, I simply smiled and thanked her.

The shocking thing is that I heard the words when she said them. My brain actually registered them and heard them, rather than my tendency to always block any compliments that come my way. Those words came at the perfect moment - I hadn't really worked out hard in more than a week and I was feeling deflated, like I was slacking way too close to the finish line, wondering if I'd get my mojo back.

Those unsolicited, unexpected words shook something inside me that I've been denying myself of for far too many years. I finally felt it 'click' and a deep sense of self-satisfaction reverberated right down deep in my soul in that very instant. Along with this extra unhealthy weight, I've also carried around a lot of extra unhealthy doubt all these years. I doubted I could do this. Heck, I doubt I can do most anything, ever. I doubted I was worthy of doing this. Hell, I often doubt my worthiness in just about every avenue of my life. I doubted I could start this journey, keep it up & see it through. I doubted ME.

Those words my brain managed to register this morning gave me a gift. I can't lie, I've heard compliments before. My husband stands beside me 110%, my #1 cheerleader. This was more than a compliment. These words were the right words at the right moment when the stars were aligned just right. These words gave me a gift I've had the inability to give myself.

If only my "melting away" were as easy as the phrase sounds. If this mere "melting away" were only as easy as melting ice cream on a warm summer day, I would have done it years ago. But no, it surely hasn't been that easy. I will be the first to attest that this is a day-by-day, meal-by-meal, moment-by-moment journey. I'm admittedly my own worst enemy and despite that demon, I've chiseled myself away one little ice chip at a time - one ice chip of weight, one ice chip of self-loathing, one chip of weight, one chip of self-doubt....

There is no greater gift one can give themselves than to set a goal and claw their way to the finish line, without quitting. I think my friend Tiffany's recent law school graduation falls into that category, right along with my weight loss & healthier lifestyle overhaul. Two very different goals but our claws sure came out for both. We sank in hard and wouldn't let go, despite all the times we both very much wanted to just throw up that white flag, cry uncle & simply quit along the way. I've always thought strong women rock the casbah so today, Tiffany, TOOT! TOOT!

My journey/struggle isn't even over but without a shadow of a doubt, I will not quit this race. I set my goal months ago, have not waivered and I'm getting closer & closer to it each day. I won't allow myself to cry uncle now. There is no stopping me until I see it through COMPLETELY.

It's the final countdown. Today was my 2nd to last training session with my very last one being in 2 weeks. In 2 weeks I'll have my final weigh in, my final body fat % taken by both scale & calipers and we'll see what I've accomplished in the past 5 months. I'm sure we'll also discuss at length where I still want/need to work on, where I want to go, where I want to stay, what I have yet to do to keep striving toward my long term goals. This battle with the balance of food & exercise is one I despise, but its one I'll be fighting until I take my last breath. However, in proper perspective, there is no food that tastes as good as that compliment felt this morning.

It's chicken breasts, tuna and veggies for the next 2 weeks. It's water, more water and on top of that water, more water. I want my final numbers to be as awesome as they can be, truly reflect my progress, my journey, my determination to see this through to the end, not just to a point where its "good enough". I want to finish this race. I want to be better than "good enough". I want to be GREAT.

It's on, bitches. It's on.

winding down.

My kids get out of school next week. WHAT?! The school year just began, or so it feels. That's just complete insanity I tell ya. My life feels like it is just flying by. This summer will give us a rest from 3 kids in 3 sports and I look forward to it but in just 3 short months we begin the chaotic crazy school & sports schedules all over again.

Garth dropped off our last tuition check to the preschool today. We've officially kicked off our 2-year reprieve from high priced private preschool tuition. Whew, that feels good. Reallllllll good.

This morning E watched one of her birthday Signing Times videos - I was floored that she knew 90% of this particular episodes signs and the ones she didn't already know she just signed right along with the kids on the video, repeating the words, quite clearly. She rocks my socks. She is going to be one signing masta', just like her mama. Her favorite sign is apparently candy because she won't stop signing it this morning. I gave her some chocolate chips, she sat down, ate them all and then came back signing candy again. She's no dumb girl, that's for sure.

We hosted a Memorial Day BBQ yesterday for friends & family - exhausting but fun. I'm hosting a play date for W this afternoon. I really like this particular kid so fingers crossed it goes flawlessly. W was in rare, tired form this morning so my fingers really are crossed on this one.

E is sitting on the computer box next to me saying "uppie" and signing "help". I think she wants my attention. Perhaps I'll update more later, perhaps not. Happy Tuesday. :)

Memorial Day, 2008.

This article was in one of my weekly news magazines this week. I recognize it's long but well worth reading. I openly cried while reading it, have thought of it many times this past week and it is a solid reminder to us all that the reason behind Memorial Day is not a day off from work for a family barbeque. Thank, or better yet, hug a veteran today - without them we would be living incredibly different lives here in America.
- Marissa

The last word: Death comes knocking

Every door is different. Some are ornately hand-carved hardwood, some are hollow tin. Some are protected by elaborate security systems, some by flapping screens. The doors are all that stand between a family and the message.

For Maj. Steve Beck, it starts with a knock or a ring of the doorbell—a simple act, really, with the power to shatter a soul.

Five years ago, the then 40-year-old Marine officer was catapulted into a duty he never trained for, an assignment that starts with a long walk to a stranger’s porch and an outstretched hand sheathed in a soft white glove.

While every door is different, the scenes inside are almost always the same. “The curtains pull away. They come to the door. And they know. They always know,” Beck says. “You can almost see the blood run out of their body and their heart hit the floor. It’s not the blood as much as their soul. Something sinks. I’ve never seen that except when someone dies. And I’ve seen a lot of death.

“They’re falling—either literally or figuratively—and you have to catch them. In this business, I can’t save his life. All I can do is catch the family while they’re falling.”On a blue-sky Labor Day weekend in a new, upscale residential neighborhood, a middle-aged man mowed his yard as a silver SUV ambled down the street past manicured lawns and half-finished homes. In a place filled with soccer moms and SUVs, the Suburban with government plates didn’t stick out. The two men inside did.

Minutes before, Maj. Beck and Navy chaplain Jim Chapman had parked briefly outside the neighborhood and closed their eyes in prayer. Chapman asked for “words that will bring the family peace.” At the time, Beck didn’t know what those words would be. He never does.

When Beck’s phone rings with news of a Marine’s death, he always feels the pressure of the clock. Once the call is received, the goal for notification is four hours. Troops in the battle zone often have access to e-mail and satellite telephones now, so when a service member dies, the area is placed under “River City,” or R.C. When an area goes R.C., all communication back home is shut off to keep rumors from reaching the family before the notification officers arrive. Still, Beck knew that bad news runs like water downhill, creating its own path. “As soon as we receive the call,” he says, “we are racing the electron.”

When the knock came on this occasion, Katherine Cathey was napping in a bedroom in the home of her mother and stepfather. Her stepfather saw the Marines first.

“We’re here for Katherine,” Beck said quietly. “Oh, no,” Vic Leonard said.

At first Katherine’s mother, Vicki Leonard, thought it was a salesman. Then she saw her husband walking backward and the two men in uniform. “Oh, no,” she said, and then, “She’s pregnant!”

Vic asked his wife to wake Katherine. Vicki shook her head. She couldn’t speak.

Katherine could hear her mother crying—no, wailing—when her stepfather opened the bedroom door.

“What’s going on?” Katherine asked.

“It’s not good. Come with me,” he said.

Katherine’s screams began as soon as she saw the uniforms.

Two Marines are required for each death notification, not just for emotional support, but for each other’s protection. At the beginning of the war in Iraq, one of the Marines from Beck’s unit was slapped by a furious mother. In 2004, a distraught father in Florida set fire to a van that carried the Marines sent to notify him.

The reaction was different on this day. Katherine ran to the back of the living room and collapsed on the floor, holding her pregnant stomach. Finally, she stood, but she still couldn’t speak. As the chaplain and the major remained on their feet, she glared at them. It was a stare the major had seen before. “Maybe that’s what hurts me the most,” Beck says. “That because I’m standing in front of them, they’re feeling as bad as they’re ever going to feel.” From the beginning, Maj. Beck decided that if he was going to have to serve as a casualty assistance calls officer, he would do it his way, the way he would want it done if he were the one in the casket.

Over the next two years, Beck made a point of learning each dead Marine’s nickname. He touched the toys they grew up with and read the letters they wrote home (“Dakota, you are more son than I could ever ask for … I will always be in our park when you dream so we can still play together”). He held grieving mothers in long embraces, absorbing their muffled cries into the dark-blue shoulder of his uniform. Sometimes he returned home to his own family and cried in the dark.

Beck swears he’s not a perfectionist. “I just don’t like to say no,” he says of his attempts to grant seemingly impossible requests from grieving families—requests that often go far beyond the requirements of the casualty assistance handbook. When one Laramie, Wyo., mother lost her son, she wanted his best friend to be at the funeral even though the young man’s unit was about to deploy to Iraq and he was told he couldn’t leave. “Roger that,” Beck said, and within hours the friend was on his way to Wyoming. He has also negotiated with airport officials who initially balked at requests by families who wanted to see their Marine’s casket unloaded from the plane. He has helped track down personal items that some families thought were lost forever in Iraq.

Most of the Marines who would serve as pallbearers for Jim Cathey had first met the Reno native at the University of Colorado while enrolled in an elite scholarship program for enlisted Marines. They partied with him, occasionally got in trouble with him, and then watched him graduate in only three years with honors in history and anthropology. Of all the Marines they had met or trained with, “Cat” was the one they considered invincible—a kid who made sergeant at 19 and seemed destined to leapfrog through the ranks.

Members of 2nd Lt. Cathey’s unit told family members that he was leading the search of an abandoned building when a booby-trapped door exploded. The explosion was so fierce that it blew an arm and a leg off the Marine directly behind Cathey, though that Marine somehow survived.

When the pallbearers accompanied Cathey’s flag-draped casket on an American Airlines flight into Reno, Maj. Beck was on the tarmac with Katherine Cathey. He held his hand on her back when she pressed her face against the blue field of stars. He guided her to the hearse’s front seat when she decided she wanted to ride with the casket.

Now, at the funeral home, Beck gave the pallbearers instructions that would hold for the next three days. Although the Marines are required to stand watch over a comrade’s body, they usually leave at night once the casket is safely inside a locked mortuary or church. This time, however, the watch would not end.

“Katherine and [Jim’s mother, Caroline,] have both expressed concerns about Jim’s being left alone,” Beck told the Marines. “So we won’t leave him alone.”

Beck told them to take shifts of about an hour at a time. When changing the guard, they were to salute Jim’s casket first and then relieve the other Marine the same way. He showed them a slow salute that isn’t taught in basic training: three seconds up, hold for three, and three seconds down. “A salute to your fallen comrade should take time,” he said.

Beck walked up to the casket and paused.

“Now this is important, too,” he said. “If a family member wants you to break, you can break. They may want to hug you or kiss you. That’s okay. Hug them. If someone wants to shake your hand, shake their hand. Then go back to position. Everyone understand?”

“Yes, sir,” they responded. “Roger that.”

“This is serious business,” he said. “Jim is watching you.”Moments later, in the emptied room, Maj. Beck walked back to the casket. It was time for the final inspection.

Beck lifted the flag, tucking it into neat pleats and leaving just enough room to open the heavy wooden lid. He walked around the flag several times, making sure each stripe lined up straight, smoothing the thick stitching with his soft white gloves.

Then he lifted the lid.

For the past five days, Beck had spent hours looking at pictures of Jim Cathey, listening to the family’s stories, dabbing their tears. When he looked inside, they were no longer strangers.
For the next 10 minutes, Beck leaned over the casket, checking the empty uniform that lay atop the tightly shrouded body, making sure every ribbon and medal was in place. Occasionally, he pulled off a piece of lint or a stray thread and flicked it away.

Although casualty assistance officers receive an advisory from military morticians about whether a body is “viewable,” some families insist on looking. The casualty assistance officer is often the one to make last-minute recommendations, since by then he knows the family and—after the final inspection—knows exactly what the family will see.

Jim Cathey’s survivors decided not to look under the shroud. But Katherine had requested a few minutes alone with the open casket.

Beck ran his hand alongside the shroud, taking one last look at the uniform. He closed the lid and turned toward the door.Katherine draped her body over the smooth wood, pressing her pregnant belly to the casket, as close to a hug as she could get.

Beck placed a hand on her back. “Tell me when you’re ready,” he said. “Take your time.” He stepped back.

The air conditioner clicked on, filling the room with a low hum. Ten minutes passed. It clicked off, leaving the room to her soft moans.

Katherine closed her eyes and whispered something. Then she looked up at Beck. “Okay,” she said.

As she stood at his arm, he opened the casket.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t speak. He gave her a few seconds, then took her hand and brought it to the middle of the empty uniform. He held her hand there and pressed down. “He’s here,” he told her. “Feel right here.”

She held her hand on the spot, pressing the uniform into the shrouded body beneath. She dragged her hand the length of all that was there.

E's birthday in pictures.

alive but not as well as i'd like to be.

Eh, I'm alive. Yesterday I was feeling GREAT. Better than before Tuesday even happened.

I took an early evening (5-7 pm) nap yesterday, ran a few errands and then went to bed feeling eh.

I woke up in the night, writhing in pain, waking Garth to tell him, "ughhh, it's back."

He asked if I wanted my pain medication and in my grogginess told him no. What I was thinking I'm not sure. I told him I wanted to just sleep it off. I tossed & turned all night in agony.

This morning it seems to have dissipated a bit. I took some Pepcid Complete per the doctors instructions and if its an ulcer it should kick in and help any time now.

I'm feeling very "eh" about it all. I know none of the diagnosis' are life threatening but all of them have the potential of being pretty disruptive to my everyday living, not to mention beyond annoyingly painful.

On the upside, my daughter E is 2 today! Also exciting is that my surgery is exactly 1 month from today. Both are things worth celebrating, even with an upset abdomen. And for anyone who thinks I'm nuts for still considering an elective surgery while not knowing exactly what is going on with me, be assured I'm not insane. I talked about it at length with my doctor and she assures me its fine, nothing I'm going through will change whether I proceed with the surgery or not. She said she can't wait to see the results. And no, its not the plastic surgeon I'm talking about. This dr. isn't getting paid or not getting paid based on my decision to keep the surgery date.

We're off to the zoo for a birthday afternoon of fun.
Happy Saturday, Y'all!

alive & well.

I'm alive, I'm well and think I love my new family doctor. I really enjoyed that she took no less than an hour for our first visit together. I don't think I've ever sat and talked with a doctor for that long. It was a good experience.

It appears I either passed a gall stone, have biliary colic or have the onset of an ulcer. None of which are life threatening but all are legitimately painful. I'm choosing to fore go any further testing & play it by ear for now, hoping I never experience another Tuesday and I may not. If it happens again, I'll be prepared and we'll go from there. I'm totally comfortable with this course of action, or rather no action for now.

On the weight loss front I'm sad to say I lost nothing this week. Having only worked out twice and not been regimented with what I've been eating I'm not surprised. I'm feeling better today, eating better and I took E for a bike ride with the trailer. It felt good to be moving around again and spend some time in the fresh air.

E turns 2 tomorrow. She actually looks 2 suddenly. She's talking, mimicking, signing, jumping, singing, dancing, counting ("one TWO!"), is bossy as all get out and her hair is suddenly growing rapidly. She loves her babies, twirly dresses, my makeup & drawing with markers. Her favorite word is no and she is in love with all things Dora, eating M&Ms and she has no plans to give up her plug (pacifier) any time soon. I simply love & adore her and am so blessed.

Happy Birthday my sweet bebe girl - you are my forever princess.

She tattles too!

hanging on.

So I'm hanging in there. I miss the gym. I just don't feel like I should push my luck this week. I was all dressed to go this morning but chickened out. My gut feels like I got into a fight and lost. I have an appointment with a new doctor tomorrow morning and hopefully I'll get some new insight. Like I told a friend earlier, I am not stressing it too badly, I highly doubt its anything critical. So I possibly have to have my gallbladder removed, there are definitely worse things in the world. I'm feeling optimistic but I would like to stop aching/hurting. Gallbladder or not, I'm having my tummy tuck next month. I've waited this many years and worked hard to get where I'm at and trust me when I say next to nothing will stop me now. You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you.... ;)

Without the gym, plus the added TLC from a comforting husband and Panera's cream of broccoli soup & bread delivery, the weight loss isn't much of a loss this week. I'll take maintaining over gaining any day though. I'm holding steady.

The upside of this week is the revelation that my tubal ligation still seems to be a success. Having lower abdominal excruciating pain made doctors scurry thinking I had an ectopic pregnancy gone wrong. After both a blood test & an ultrasound I can thankfully say, I am not pregnant. Now that is something we can all be grateful for. :)

the good news, the bad news.

The good news: I'm not dying and I'm not pregnant.

The bad news: It took a call to 911, an ambulance ride to the hospital, an IV, blood draw, narcotic pain meds, anti-nausea meds, a CT scan, a urine sample, an ultrasound, a heart monitor, pulse ox and many pokes & prods, a nasal cannula for oxygen, a puke bucket that I actually had to use again & again & again, and oh, about 12+ hours of my day to discover nothing askew in my body which translated in my head to no one believed anything was wrong with me. Trust me when I say I couldn't make this fetal-position-on-the-floor pain up. The pain radiates up to my right shoulder at times too.

The fact that I am still having this pain, though much to a lesser degree thanks to pain meds, means to me that this isn't in my head. I told the Dr. it felt like a gas pain times 1000, like no gas I've ever had. If that's all this turns out to be, great - let the good times roll. But I always think I'm that one case that always gets turned away with no explanation just to later find out there could have been an easier treatment had they caught it earlier.

Alas, I'm feeling melancholy today. My stomach & abdomen are in knots, I'm supposed to be taking it easy and truth be told, I wished they'd have given me some sort of answer after all those hours spent at the hospital yesterday. I'm frustrated and still in pain. :/

After a seriously expensive day that was hardly of vacation quality, I'm so not looking forward to following up with my family doctor. So he can also say he doesn't know whats wrong, pat me on the head, send me on my way and throw his bill into the hat as well. {sigh}

My mom, a nurse & my neighbor, a doctor both say that what I'm describing is gall bladder related. I'm sure I'll find out that its nothing. Can you tell I'm a little frustrated over this? :(

Oh, and sleep apnea. I was told I have sleep apnea. If you mix high doses of narcotics & an already always tired person, I will fall asleep. My O2 & heart rate alarms were affected by it and went off all day long. My nurse informed me that I have sleep apnea. Umm duh. Now tell me why my gut hurts.

the adding & the uploading of pics.

Like Ellisa said in her blog yesterday, birthdays can be a whole lot of work. I so look forward to planning them and getting them just right but with almost the same excitement I look forward to them passing. I mean, except for my own birthmonth celebration and all... ;)

I realized upon uploading that I didn't get pics of everyone who attended. I'm going to try harder to accomplish that next time.

She really seemed to enjoy having her own cake!