Sharing the news

Love and pregnancy and riding on a camel can not be hid.
-Arabic Proverb

There was little I was excited about in the first 24 hours after I learned I was pregnant. Actually, I could find two things to muster excitement for. First, since we were not even teenagers my best friend and I had always talked about some day being pregnant at the same time. She was six months along in her pregnancy, so if I was going to have a surprise I was thankful from the first few minutes that it was at the same time as my friend. We had let go of that dream a few years ago for multiple reasons, so we both saw the timing of our pregnancies as a gift from God.

The other thing I could get excited for was telling people. I had thought about different ways to share the news for years... if I ever did get pregnant. Now it was here and I wanted to have fun with it. I woke my best friend up and she quickly decided it was the best wake up call ever. Johnie's brother almost choked, we think. (Those who know us well had pretty much given up any hope that we would ever birth children.)

We told my mom we wanted her to make the announcement to the church family. She said no for about five seconds, then cried about being offered such an honor and enthusiastically agreed. I sort of thought she would just shout out something like, "I'm going to be a Memaw!" Or, "Johnie and Amy are having a baby!" With a jubilance (I may have made that word up) only she can achieve.

But all on her own accord she wanted to be ornery too. She thought about telling everyone that there was a new special someone in her life, leading them to think of a romantic relationship. But she settled on another idea that I think was even better.

Circled up to pray my mom was given the floor for her announcement: "I just wanted to let everyone know I'm getting a new car (Karr)!"

Everyone clapped politely, albeit confused. My mom already had a nearly new car and isn't usually one to get caught up in material things.

"A new little baby car (Karr)." People were still clapping and some didn't really hear her. Those who did thought she was talking about a compact car.

A couple seconds of awkward silence. Finally Johnie said, "Do you want to give any more details?"

"Well, I'll get it probably around...." She looked to me. "In November," I said. I thought everyone might catch on then. But there was still confusion.

Finally she brought her arms up like she was rocking a baby. "A new little baby car (Karr)." And people started to get it.

Unfortunately I have managed to miss all the group pregnancy announcements among our church friends to date. I always end up being out of town, or sick, or with some conflicting appointment on the one burrito night I didn't make that year. They probably react similarly to anyone who shares baby news. Or maybe we were just the least likely couple to ever make such an announcement. (One friend said, "you just know some things aren't a possibility so you don't even consider them," when talking about why it took everyone a bit to solve my mom's riddle.)

I was overwhelmed. There were squeals of joy and hugs and laughter. I looked around and people were high fiving and hugging. Some had their hands over their mouths. Others were crying. I was thankful that my mom and Johnie were there to absorb some of the attention, but I was shaking and feeling all tingly.

Maybe it was too much too soon for me to handle, but my heart was reassured to see all the joy on everyone's faces about the life inside of me. As I told them as they asked how I was handling it and apologized if they were being obnoxiously excited, I just felt so thankful to see others feeling about this baby the way I wish I could feel. And in those fear-filled moments, I always found reassurance in a community who already loved and cared for my little one.

Having lupus, Part 9: The scapegoat

The search for a scapegoat is the easiest of all hunting expeditions.
-Dwight Eisenhower

Born from my splash into alternative medicine shortly before my diagnosis, the rash of remedies suggested to me by well-meaning acquaintances after my diagnosis and -- of course -- my lifelong quest for self gratification, I began looking for benefits to chronic illness quickly after receiving the news.

Maybe since lupus was to blame for a lot of bad stuff in my life I could also use it to my advantage sometimes.  And that was the beginning of my plan.

Already I was swigging a concoction of herbs each morning and had listened to all kinds of unscientifically-proven treatments.  I felt willing to try anything.  So why not try anything?  And see how it would affect the lupus.

Maybe my lupus symptoms would disappear on a beach in Mexico.  Worth a shot.  (Still haven't tried this one, but plan to and also have learned that one must be patient through long trials to reach the full effectiveness of some treatments.)

The stars aligned one week when I ate out several times at some of my all-time favorite restaurants.  I also felt really good that week.  Coincidence?  I prefer to call it restaurant therapy.  And rank it as highly effective.

Might lupus symptoms rise and fall based on potato chip or dark chocolate consumption?  Only one way to find out.  Could Coke alleviate symptoms?  I'm not willing to say no yet.

And then: Might excessive dish washing cause a flare?  Maybe.  I've decided not to risk it.  Or too much house cleaning?  Better safe than sorry, I say.

That time I embarrassed myself.  The lupus was affecting my cognition, my balance, my whatever it was, I'm sure.  Did I just make a mistake?  It wasn't me, it was the lupus. 

Whether it is buying (or eating) something, engaging in or avoiding an activity, or explaining some shortcoming or discrepancy -- my new ace in the hole is simply on account of the lupus.

I played the lupus card to get A LOT of wonderful help moving (though I'm sure our sweet friends would have helped anyway).  Lupus got me out of months of laundry and other chores.  Really, I haven't found the bounds yet for exploiting this disease.

But, I plan to test those limits to their full extent in the months and years ahead.  I always hear people saying to look on the bright side, to take the good with the bad... that's just what I'm doing.  Making lemonade.

---

This post is part of a series on how lupus has affected me.


Click on the links below to read more:


Part 1: Introduction, The horrific mystery disease


Part 2: The bad times


Part 3: How lupus made me a better wife


Part 4: A practice of patience


Part 5: More on the pit


Part 6: Exhaustion


Part 7: Saying no


Part 8: Taming fear and anxiety

My diagnosis


My herbalist and the treatment option I am choosing right now


My recent lifestyle changes


To learn more about lupus, you may visit the Lupus Foundation of America.

Thankfulness Project: Day 17

The sound of laughter has always seemed to me the most civilized music in the universe.
-Peter Ustinov

As always... well, almost always, I was thankful for a lot of things today.

By the time I made it back home and to an internet connection tonight, I was drained and tired and ready for bed.  Not for writing.

I began reading about thankfulness and thinking about what I would write about when out of the corner of my eye I saw my brother come down the hall. 

I was excited for him to come home with me because he and I share -- among many things -- a love for Christmas and Christmas decorations.  He hadn't seen this year's décor yet.  Including a sprig of mistletoe.

We never hung mistletoe growing up, but it has become a fun tradition for Johnie and me.  He is always finding clever ways for us to meet under it.

I was in the kitchen the morning after we put it up this year when I heard Johnie ask, "While I'm in the shower, will you pick out a sweater for me to wear today?"

I turned to head to the bedroom but he remained standing in the hall.  I waited for him to move, but he didn't.  I stepped to the side and he did too.  I stepped to the other side and then I realized why he was acting so strange: "Oh, look.  You just happen to be standing under the mistletoe.  I guess I'll have to kiss you."

Tonight, I saw my brother slow his steps as he neared the end of the hall.  That got my full attention.  And then I watched as he turned and pressed his back against the wall, sliding against it for the last two steps.  All while looking at our mistletoe.  He was taking no chances getting caught under there with only Johnie or me as options for kissing.

And then there was laughter.  Loud and long laughter.  The kind that works better than any other kind of medicine.

I thought about all the other times I've laughed today.  With Johnie.  With church family.  With my mom and the rest of my family.  And with one of my favorite people to laugh with: Bubby. 

I love laughter.  I always have.  It is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.  And I'm glad it was in the soundtrack of today.

Thankfulness Project: Day 15

And what's romance?  Usually, a nice little tale where you have everything as you like it, where rain never wets your jacket and gnats never bite your nose, and it's always daisy-time.
-D.H. Lawrence

I say this somewhat sheepishly: I'm thankful the gnats aren't biting my nose today.  I don't have everything just as I would like it, but at least there are no gnats.

This summer gnats descended on Frankfort.  That actually was a comfort to realize because at first I just thought they had descended on my house.  But they were at Johnie's work and at mine.  They were outside where ever we would go.  In restaurants and stores. EV-ER-Y-WHERE.

When we drove far enough to be away from the gnats, I was thankful just to have a break from them.  Seriously.  As I was packing for our D.C. trip last month, I was thinking about how glad I would be to have a few days away from them.

I've never found gnats to be much of a nuisance before.  They're tiny and despite the quote I used, I've never actually been bitten by one.  As far as bugs go, I've always thought gnats were pretty harmless.

When they came this summer I wasn't bothered at first.  I'd swat them away and go on with my day.  But they kept swarming.  They were in the kitchen, of course, but also in the living room.  Then I started seeing them in the bathroom and the bedroom. 

Little black spots would come into my vision and I would be equal parts relieved and frustrated when I realized it was just. more. GNATS.



Did you know these things were so smart and organized,
they send out newsletters?

I felt a twinge of guilt at exerting my human dominance over such tiny little creatures, but a couple weeks in and I was fed up. 

I waged war.

I cleansed my kitchen of all open food.  The refrigerator was purged.  Refuge wasn't even allowed in the trash can.  I scrubbed down my countertops.  No free rides at the Rose-Karr house, gnats.

But they survived.

So I took to the internet and mixed up a soap and vinegar concoction to sit out for them to drink and die.

It didn't seem to phase them.

We bleached every solid surface and poured boiling water -- and more bleach -- down the drain.

Still, they survived.

We kept our drains plugged up and set out a pickle juice poison next to the vinegar one, in case these were picky gnats.

They kept swarming.

By this point I started to feel embarrassed.  Was I so filthy that gnats just followed me?  Would there be no getting rid of them?  Would we just always have gnats?

I even started to worry about our mental health.  I actually felt a hint of sick pleasure (though mostly I just felt sick) in wiping away a small group of them that had piled up in the corner of the refrigerator.  For all the torment they gave me, at least some of them froze to death.  Johnie started taking gnat-killing breaks throughout the day.  I didn't know whether to question his emotional stability or just celebrate that the gnat-to-human ratio was leveling.

We sprayed all-natural bug spray.  I set out herbs known to repel bugs.

They lingered still.

I seriously wondered if we would ever be without them.

And then gloriously!

This morning at the kitchen sink, I saw the cup of anti-gnat juice.  None of them were drinking.  None of them were in the sink.  None were around the food.  Or in the kitchen.  None of them were in the house at all.  There were no gnats.  And its been that way for a few days.

The gnat plague of 2013 is over.  And I survived.

The thankfulness that I try to capture in these daily blog posts bubbled over in my soul.  And was such a fitting parallel to my very first moments of the day:

Still in bed this morning in the dark -- before I made it to the gnat-free sink -- my thoughts turned anxious and I started to feel heavy with burden. 

What if this doesn't get better?  What if I get sicker?  What if this symptom or that symptom comes?  What if my grandfather dies?  What if work gets crazy?  What if I just can't handle everything?  What if there isn't enough time and energy to do all the things I need or want to do?  What if we miss this or that thing?  What if we have to cancel our anniversary trip?  What if everything falls apart financially?  What if everything just plain falls apart?  What if this doesn't work?  And that doesn't work? What if?  Then what?

I took some deep breaths and I prayed. 

I've learned from experience that it's best to let the what-ifs go.  They usually don't happen anyway. 

This is only a season.  And it's never as bad as I imagine it could be.  I will get through and things will get better. 

I decided then that these would be my words for the day.  This would be my antidote to anxiety.

Except for later I added: Just like the gnats.