New Year's Eve

Every year when New Year’s Eve rolls around, Cody and I are always at a bit of a loss for exciting things to do. A couple of years ago we went to an OKC Thunder game on New Year’s Eve, which was the coolest thing we’ve ever accomplished to ring in the new year (with the exception of a fateful night in college that involved my best friend losing her shoes and taking incriminating pictures that will haunt her forever). Cody and I always find ourselves a bit underwhelmed by New Year’s Eve, and in turn, welcome a new year with a pathetic whimper rather than a celebratory bang.

However, thanks to Twitter and my obsession with travel sites, Cody and I have signed up for a New Year’s celebration to counteract our years of lameness. Drum roll please….

Cody and I will be spending the final night of 2013 in Reykjavik, Iceland. Yes, you read that correctly. Cody and I are going to the frozen tundra in the dead of winter in hopes of seeing glaciers, waterfalls, bonfires, and most of all the allusive Northern Lights. This crazy plan all started with a tweet about the coolest places to celebrate NYE. Reykjavik was amongst other interesting locations like New York City and Paris to ring in the New Year. Reykjavik has around four hours of daylight during December and January, which results in a nearly continuous explosion of fireworks. Icelanders also light bonfires to burn witches (weird, I know) and shed the baggage from a year passed. Something I certainly feel like I could get into.

Because Iceland is cold and dark, we are also going to spend a few days in Copenhagen before ending up in Reykjavik. I was a little worried about how much jetlag and darkness and freezing temperatures I could endure. Four days is about what I decided.

Needless to say, we are super excited about all of this. There’s something about crossing an ocean that really makes me feel alive. And naturally, Cody is my favorite ocean-crossing partner in the world.

Here’s to the end of 2013 and an exceptional beginning to the next. Maybe 2014 will prove as noteworthy as our celebration to begin it.

I'll leave you with a few pictures of all of these places so you can envision what in the world we are getting ourselves into.

Reykjavik, Iceland

Copenhagen, Denmark

The Blue Lagoon...a geothermal pool in Iceland.

And finally, the Northern Lights. Maybe we'll get lucky and catch a glimpse.

 

Katy Vs. Her Ovaries - Odds Are...

Recently, I went out to eat to celebrate a friend’s birthday. There were four other couples at this dinner, plus Cody and me. Among those five married couples, there were three children and another on the way. At some point in the night, I looked down the table and saw three mothers tending to three children. Oddly, this moment of maternal affection suddenly made my current baby situation make a little more sense to me. I realized that in in a group of young, seemingly healthy people there has to be someone who falls victim to the natural odds of fertility. Out of five couples, I realized that Cody and I happen to be the one out of however many people who struggle to have a child. We have fulfilled those odds. In other words, the rest of you baby-making fools can thank us for your little bundle of joy.

As I continued to sit at that dinner table, I started to make note of all of the parts of my life that fulfill some meaningless statistic. I thought about breast cancer and heart disease and depression. I thought about addiction and above average height and terrible eye sight. I pretty much threw myself a pity party that started with an innocent glance down a table and ended with my having eaten approximately half a dozen rolls to alleviate the pain associated with all of the crappy odds that exist in my life.

Now, in the past this is where this story would end. I would have gone home, continued to drown my pity in carbs, and moved on with my life. However, there is a new Katy Prater floating through the universe these days, who tries to balance her propensity for  “I-hate-the-world” moments with a much more appreciative and grateful attitude that focuses on all the goodness around her. In the time after I ran out of rolls, I decided to make note of all of the positive statistics of which my life consists. I thought about my family and supportive parents. I thought about my marriage and college degree and job. I thought about my house and health and happiness. I thought about how my life is far more privileged and magical than I could ever deserve, and I realized that we all have to fulfill some sort of odds. Each of us carries an albatross around our necks, and I suppose it is how we respond to that stupid bird that ends up being significant.

With the rest of my evening, I held those babies that my friends care for on a daily basis. I asked questions about pregnancy and child care and school and deciding to have more than one of those little creatures. I told my friends that their kids were adorable (because they are) and was grateful that I get to spend time with sweet babies who were created and are cared for by the good people in my life.

As I walked away from the restaurant that night with my husband’s hand in mine, I felt a little more acceptance of my current situation. I held Cody’s hand a little tighter. I appreciated him being there a little more. I loved him a little better. I continued to pay attention to all of the goodness around me because I am slowly starting to accept that we must revel in who we have right now. I can’t keep focusing on what may or may not happen after Lupron or after my mom’s chemo quits working or after I get pregnant. Those are all worries for another day. We must absorb all of the good in preparation for another day. And we must never, ever let the rolls run out. 

Katy Vs. Her Ovaries - Plan B

I went last week to get my final Lupron shot. In other words, I am at the beginning of my last thirty days of the medicine. The two months that I have been on the medicine have flown by. Between enduring the craziness of a new school year and all that comes with Fall, I haven't hardly thought about Lupron or babies or my lack thereof. The longer I am on the medicine the more side effects I am experiencing. I have hot flashes everyday now. I am also having some bone pain which is common. I go back November 3rd to speak with Dr. Bell about the next plan of action.

I am so ready for life to slow down a bit in the next couple of weeks. I am excited for the end of volleyball season so that I won't be working so much, and I can enjoy some free time. However, I am a little worried about a slow down. Christmastime the past few years has been the time of year when having a baby really interests me. It's something about a holiday season with a family full of adults that leaves folks asking a lot of questions about coming up with some children to open presents the next year. Certainly it's more fun to watch a kid tear open a package than my thirty year old brother. No offense, Jared.

In the past few months, I have sort of pushed the idea of parenthood out of my mind. I knew that I had three months where getting pregnant was not an option, and instead all I had to was worry with work and graduate classes and other normal stuff. It's been nice. I haven't missed negative pregnancy tests. I haven't missed counting days and trying to interpret the inner-workings of my body. I have just been me without so much guilt about not being able to get pregnant. The break has been appreciated.

So, I'm left with facing the next step, whatever it might be. I realize that in order to have a child I will have to at least try. That magical dream of just turning up pregnant no longer exists anywhere inside of me. I have accepted that this story is going to unfold differently than I originally anticipated. And I've accepted that everything associated with getting pregnant unfolds in thirty day intervals. Slow, lonely, frustrating thirty day intervals.

The volleyball team that I coach played a tournament this weekend at the high school I attended. In the halls of the school are some plaques and trophies that I won years ago. Some of my players were looking at the plaques and called me over to ask me some questions about playing sports. After we were done talking, I stood in that hall looking at those plaques that I won almost a decade ago. I felt a sense of envy thinking back on my seventeen year old self who never wondered what my purpose was. I never questioned if playing sports was what I was meant to do. I could use wins and losses and points scored and newspaper articles as proof that I was doing something worth doing. Being an athlete was always so easy for me. I suddenly really missed having something in my life so inevitable.

I couldn't help but feel a little deflated at the realization of who I am today compared to who I was ten years ago. For whatever reason, I don't get a ton of satisfaction out of being a teacher and coach. I don't feel immense pride for waking up each day and going to work. I don't feel like I am accomplishing much by taking Master's classes. I don't feel like I am doing much to speak of in this world. Sometimes I feel like I am just treading water, staying afloat until something significant happens. I have always told myself that one day I will have a child and the lack of direction and purpose in my current situation will suddenly be swallowed up by this tiny human that Cody and I create. I have always assumed that being a mother is the next big thing, and perhaps the only big thing. Standing in that familiar hallway yesterday I was forced to start considering a Plan B that doesn't involve motherhood the way I envision it.

And then the thought of a Plan B jogged my memory to a time years ago before I was married to Cody in which I enlisted the emergency contraceptive Plan B in a feverish meltdown over the .0001% possibility of getting pregnant without technically have sex. Yes, this truly happened, my friends. I have always been so supremely confident in my reproductive abilities (or perhaps unhealthily scared of being judged for an unplanned pregnancy) that I assumed I was pregnant before losing my virginity.

My name is Katy and I am neurotic and out of control and absolutely befuddled at the idea that I cannot get pregnant.

Felina

Recently, I have worked to combine two of my favorite things in this world - dogs and television.

A couple of weeks ago, a stray dog started showing up on regular basis where I work. The first time I saw the dog I was walking out of my building and she happen to be scavenging for food outside. I immediately tried to sweet talk the dog to me. She simply ran away with her tail tucked between her legs. For whatever reason, I couldn't stop thinking about the dog. I followed her up the street a little way. I noticed how thin she looked. I thought it was weird how she refused to come to me. I never have known of many dogs that won't have anything to do with people.

Naturally, I proceeded to Dollar General to buy dog treats and food for this little creature. I spent the next three days stalking her at work. I followed her in my car. I threw food out my window to try to get her to come to me. I talked in a calm voice. I avoided eye contact like the Internet advised me to do. I researched how to capture feral dogs. I was convinced this animal would never let me help her. I decided the best I could do was put food out to try to help her survive. I worried about the nights getting colder and where she would go when it rains. I worried about her all the time. I couldn't stop thinking about this dog. There was something different about her than other stray dogs I see.

I told my family about my latest animal project. My husband rolled his eyes. My mom jumped in the car to go visit my little friend. I eventually even got my husband on board. At a football game one Friday night, we found the dog huddled under the sole car left in the parking lot. My husband did his best to get near her but to no avail. She simply wouldn't be caught.

On a whim, I left my phone number with a guy who lived near my work. He said that if he ever managed to catch her that he would give me a call.

After a few days, the guy called to tell me that his son had somehow caught the dog, and he was keeping her in his garage. Cody and I gathered all sorts of materials (towels, blankets, gardening gloves, cages, etc.) imagining how difficult it would be to get this wild dog in my car and all the way home. The ride there was spent imagining the enormous task of rehabilitating a dog that we thought had been abused. A dog that we assumed would be aggressive.

Upon arriving at the house, the captor of the dog told us that she didn't seem aggressive at all. Cody and I looked at each other like we assumed this man was crazy. We could not imagine the dog that had alluded all of us for close to a week would simply accept her fate as our newest pet. The dog was in fact in the man's garage. When we entered, she slowly appeared from beneath a pool table. The tail that had always been tucked between her legs was slowly wagging as she looked up at us with the sweetest eyes. Cody and I couldn't believe this was the same animal we had been trying so hard to get. Was she simply going to go home with us?

The answer is yes. She rode home in the front seat on my lap. We didn't need the towels or gloves or cage. She just sat silently in my arms. As we drove I naturally started crying. I cry all the time it seems these days. Lupron has forced me to acknowledge my feelings no matter the circumstances, and in turn the overwhelming sense of love and appreciation and sympathy that I felt for that little dog curled in my arms resulted in tears of relief knowing that she would be okay.

This dog is now my dog. She has transitioned into our two dog home pretty seamlessly. She is a cleaner, slightly less skinny version of the timid dog we rescued in a stranger's garage close to a week ago. She is as sweet and loving a dog that I envisioned her being when I first saw her.

I felt a certain amount of responsibility to give this storied animal a notable name. I knew that she couldn't be a Stella or Cookie or Dixie. She had to be something unique and different to match her personality.

I am obsessed with "Breaking Bad." I have watched the show for years and consider myself an avid fan. I read analysis articles about the show; I follow all of the actors on Twitter. I have watched the entire series more than once and consider it to be one of my favorite television shows of all time. The series finale of "Breaking Bad" is entitled "Felina." I have known of this episode title for weeks after having read an article about the significance of episode titles of the final season. I also knew that the name "Felina" is not only an anagram of the word "finale," but connects to an old country song by Marty Robbins. In the song, the narrator loves a girl named Felina so much that he ends up dying for her.

I love "Breaking Bad." I am always so intrigued by how the show leaves nothing to chance. I also respect Walter White. Maybe it's because he started as a lowly high school teacher with cancer. Maybe it's because he is such an unlikely hero..or villian. Maybe it's because he knows what he wants and goes to crazy lengths to get it. Maybe it's because he builds bombs and enlists mute nursing home patients to blow up his enemies with the ring of a bell. Either way, I knew the most recent addition to my family needed a cool name like Felina.

Here is the newest addition to the Prater household. She may not be human, but she is certainly a baby. Sometimes we have to fill gaps in our life with unlikely objects...or dogs.

Lupron - Month 1

I have officially completed one month of Lupron. I went last Thursday to get my second shot of three. Despit the terrible possibilities, I have been pleasantly surprised at how few side effects I seem to have experienced. I have recently started having some noticeable hot flashes. Granted, it's 95 degrees outside, and I came out of the womb sweating so I'm not sure being hot is too out of the norm for me. In the big picture, the hot flashes are no big deal.

The past month has been a little weird simply because I started taking Lupron and started living the three most hectic months of the year in respect to my job. I appreciate that Lupron seems to have perfectly coincided with volleyball season. I wouldn't have my stress any other way than simply over the top. I have had a couple of experiences in which my emotions seem to have gotten the best of me. I am hesitant to blame these out of character emotional displays on Lupron because I may just be a little unstable right now. However, these moments of emotion seem to be much stronger than the norm.

Because Lupron is used to shut down a person's ovaries, I can't help but think back to my own mom's experience with medically-induced menopause years ago after a hysterectomy. There was one evening when I was in high school that seems to be an accurate example of the short fuse I seem to have in respect to emotions recently. I remember going to eat dinner with my parents one evening after a basketball game. We all sat down. Everything seemed completely normal. I even think we had won the game. The waiter came to take our drink orders. My mom proceeded to order a Diet Coke to which the waiter responded that the Diet Coke machine temporarily not working. My mom looked at that poor kid with stone cold eyes and then stood up and simply walked out of the restaurant. My dad and I wondered for a few minutes whether or not she might return. She didn't. We ate dinner and were thankful that we happened to have more than one car at the restaurant. When we got home, my mom was already in bed and acted as if she hadn't just walked out of dinner because of a lack of Diet Coke. Moral of the story here is that estrogen serves a lot of purposes for women.

In the past month I have cried in front of my superintendent serving as only the second time I have ever cried in front of anyone at work in five years, much less my boss of all bosses. I am officially the crazy girl now by the way. Every time he sees me he acts as if I might start bawling without warning. It's terrible. I have also found myself much quicker to anger than normal. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) the mother of one of my players experienced my new found temper as she tried to convince me that her child deserved more playing time. I am fairly certain that by the end of the conversation the parent understood why her child would not be getting more playing time. She also understood that she should apparently never approach me with any sort of issue ever again. I really felt sort of bad after the confrontation, but at the same time I felt completely liberated. It's like I have no filter. I can't turn it off. Emotions just happen without me having any sort of control, which is not normal for me at all. In some weird way though, it's kind of nice. I have always really tried to keep my emotions in check. I sort of understand why some people just cry when they feel like crying and scream when they feel like screaming. It's exhilarating to just be whatever it is you feel. Granted, you may get fired or in a fist fight, but we have to suffer some repercussions in this life I suppose.

The other day when I went in to get my shot I talked to the nurse about what happens after I finish taking the Lupron. Sometimes it's hard for me to remember why I'm doing all of this. In the middle of the night when I'm awake and sweating and crying (not really) it's difficult for me to connect these weird things with having a child. At this point the surgery and the doctors' bills and the scars and the stitches and the Lupron and the crying and the anger are all just a weird part of my life completely unconnected to a baby. I keep telling myself that no one has to go to excessive lengths to have a child and still not have a child. Right? I keep telling myself that one day all of these funny stories will be just funny stories to be remembered as we sit around and stare at some cute little kid that's a perfect mixture of Cody and Katy. I worry that if all of this doesn't end with a child there will eventually come a time when all of these funny stories seem a lot less funny.

But for now, they're all pretty funny. And I am thankful for that. For now.

Behind Your Neckid Ears

My dad once told me a story about dinnertime in his house when he was a child. He was the middle child in a family with two brothers, always into something, always causing trouble. Nonetheless, my dad's mom used to cook every meal for her family, ensuring those three boys were always fed well. My dad remembers his mom always making him and his brothers wash up before dinner every night. According to my dad, she would always tell the boys to "go wash behind your neckid ears" before they were allowed to come to the dinner table. When my dad tells the story, he depicts a boy-version of himself huddled over the sink in the single bathroom in their house in Poteau washing his ears like his mother told him. He never questioned this seemingly weird directive. He never wondered why she referred to his ears as "neckid" (the country version of "naked" by the way). He just did what she said because that's what kids do.

Years later when my dad was home from college, my grandmother jokingly told him to "go wash behind his neck and ears," just like she had told him before meals as a child. My dad was obviously misunderstanding what his mother was saying, and in turn spent years and years of his life washing only behind his "neckid" ears before dinnertime, blindly following the directions of his mother, never questioning what he believed her to be saying.

I turned twenty-seven years old a few weeks ago. A few weeks before that I had surgery to remove a cyst from my ovary and severe scarring on my reproductive organs. Before that I was scheduling out each month in an attempt to get pregnant, because years ago I decided that at twenty-seven years old I would have my first child, because it isn't too young and it isn't too old. I sort of feel like just recently I started understanding my current situation much better. It's like the past few months my life has been on a loop as I slowly hear the words a little clearer each time around. Twenty-seven looks nothing like I thought it would. Twenty-six proved to sound clearer than any other year I've experienced. I sort of feel like I just recently listened to my favorite song from years ago, only to realize I'd been singing it wrong all along.

The good in realizing that the certain things in this world aren't necessarily so is the opportunity to get to find the new things in this world that are true for me now. Sometimes you need moments of clarity to allow you to quit washing behind your neckid ears.

Katy Vs. Her Ovaries - One Cyst Down

The Recap: I am four days out of my laparoscopy. The surgery went well. I ended up with two incisions plus the cut in my bellybutton. Dr. Bell did not take out my left ovary. He did remove as much of the 5 cm. cyst from my left ovary that he could. He did find quite a bit of endometriosis beyond the cyst that we already knew about. I could get into the logistics of it, but it's probably neither here nor there. He did diagnose me with somewhere between stage 3 and stage 4 endometriosis. I think I knew that this was the most probable outcome of the surgery. For some reason it hurts a little more four days out from the surgery than I expected.

Initially, I was so worried about the actual procedure that it wasn't until right before the day of my surgery did I start to think about what would happen next. I just wanted to get through the waking up early and the nerves and the anesthesia and the pain. That's all I was worried about until I finally remembered that the end of the surgery wasn't just the surgery. I had kind of forgotten that all this sometimes seems to be is the longest road.

I went this Saturday to get my staples removed from Dr. Bell who happened to be on call this weekend. Cody went with me and we got to recap in more detail what Dr. Bell had found. Dr. Bell did say that he had dealt with numerous women with endometriosis as widespread as mine. He even told us that he thought somewhere around 90% of women in similar cases ended up pregnant. For some reason, this gives me very little solace. He showed me pictures from my surgery. He showed me the cyst and my right ovary that does have some growths on it that we didn't see with an ultrasound. He showed me all of the stuff in me that isn't supposed to be there. I felt so overwhelmed. I don't know how all of this happened inside my own body without me having the slightest clue. How can I have stage four endometriosis? Where was I for stage one and two? I just don't get it.

Dr. Bell did suggest that I take a drug called Lupron for three months or so. Lupron is an injection that essentially forces a woman into pre-menopause in hopes that it will kill out as much of the "roots" of the endometriosis that he couldn't clear in surgery. Lupron logically has some pretty serious side effects. Any time a twenty-something-year-old woman is forced into menopause there are bound to be some hormonal side effects happening. The internet is filled with horror stories about the drug. At this point though, I sort of feel like I have no other option. I am starting to accept that there are going to have to be some somewhat drastic measures taken for me to try to get pregnant. Any ideas I used to have about the way becoming a parent would look like are gone. They have been replaced with injections and pain and schedules and a lot of failing. A lot of months that don't end in babies.

The first couple of days out of surgery I felt okay about this whole thing. I had kept both of my ovaries which I felt like was the worst thing that could have happened. I wasn't in an enormous amount of pain. I felt like I had jumped a hurdle. For whatever reason I now feel like the surgery simply solidified my fear about how difficult this process might be. I guess I get it now. I must have been holding onto some outside chance that the surgery would somehow reveal less issues than I actually have. I kept telling myself that I would just turn up pregnant one of these months and we would all move forward with a baby like all of my friends who just move forward with babies. I kept telling myself that maybe I would get to do that too. But the surgery did more realistically define reality for me. And it's obviously taking me a little while to process all of this. 

For a while I didn't know whether or not I really wanted a child. I tried to focus on all of the bad, all of the typical stuff that people with kids complain about. For whatever reason, now all I can think about is how much I do want a child. Just one. I don't need an army of them. I just want one of my own. I feel like that has to be doable. It has to be something that someone can figure out how to accomplish. I am trying to resolve myself to the process that I am going to have to endure to try to have a child. I am trying to accept that all of the difficult parts of this may still not end with Cody and me having a baby of our own. I am trying to ignore the questions about how we got to this point and instead focus on trying to move beyond it. I am trying to remind myself that no one feels like this is my fault, no matter how much I feel that way. I am trying to understand that despite all signs pointing to it, I am not shriveled up and this is not a lost cause. And I am trying to juggle all of these emotions two weeks outside of the start of the school year and volleyball season and a few days away from injecting myself with a drug that will shut down my reproductive system like I'm fifty years old. I am trying to understand that this is where I am right now and there is no easy way out.

 

Someone knocked the breath out of me. I ran into a brick wall. I have been blindsided. 

I am beginning to think that the surgery was the easy stuff.