Big Blue

My check-engine light had been on for awhile...like, a few months. When it came on originally, Husband took it to the mechanic and they said it was a sensor problem - there was nothing wrong with the mechanics of the vehicle, but I'd need to take it to a dealership to fix it. So I called and they said they could get to it NEXT WEEK. That was not convenient, so I tabled it for the time being. And then I sort of forgot about it. I mean, it dinged at me every time I started the car, just like it does when I'm running low on gas, but I got used to that (so used to it, in fact, that I didn't notice my gas gauge one day and ran out of gas...but that's a story for another post).

Finally a few weeks ago, I had a few hours so I called and they said they had immediate availability. I had Husband follow me, I drove it over, and we left it there. The next day, Husband got a phone call. The prognosis was NOT good. It was going to cost $1700 to fix my car. They would give us $1500 in a trade-in.

We were then faced with a dilemma. Do we pay to get the car fixed, or do we get a new car? My car had about 145,000-ish miles on it, had lots of things wrong with it, and after consulting a mechanic who knew the nature of such a problem and told us this could be the tip of the iceberg, fixing the old car was looking less and less appealing. However, the old car was a good car (otherwise) and I had some sentimental ties to it. It's the car I have driven my babies in since they were born! And, most importantly...IT WAS PAID FOR. And since our debt plan includes us being COMPLETELY DONE WITH DEBT BY 2016, BUYING A NEW CAR WOULD BE A BIT OF A SETBACK.

In the old car. She is so stinking cute.

I can't tell you how devastated I was about this whole ordeal. 2015 had been a year of financial wins for us and we had some serious momentum going. Purchasing a new car would bring things to a screeching halt. We talked and prayed, and finally decided that fixing the car was too risky. We needed to bite the bullet and get a new one. I wanted no part of this process (truly, there are no words for how much I HATE this sort of thing), and since I was driving to Oklahoma that weekend anyway, Husband handled the finding of the new vehicle. Of course I wanted a van (we drove Husband's mom's van to Colorado one summer and OHMYGOODNESS it was so nice! There was so much space!) but I was pretty sure we weren't going to be able to afford one. But Husband did thorough research and God provided this:

 Meet Big Blue (as the kids call her). She has lots of things The old car didn't, like space, leather, power seats, power liftgate (which is already revolutionized my grocery shopping game), space, heated seats, driver memory (so that when Rick drives, he doesn't have to manually adjust the seat every single time…he can just push the "driver 2" button), A THIRD ROW, and SO MUCH SPACE. This isn't a great picture, but you can kind of see the third row:

We have already taken it to Oklahoma, grabbed cousins and gone to the library, and taken a road trip with friends (FOUR friends!) to Lawrence. It has been wonderful!

The downside is that we had to take another loan. The good thing about that is that this is the first loan we have taken after completing Financial Peace, so we were much smarter about it. Thanks to good saving and spending habits, we were able to put half down and we will have it paid off within six months. So even though it was a bit of a setback, it was a necessary one. And in the meantime, we are really enjoying our new van!

Spectacle

This summer, I went to the hospital to see Lindsey and her new baby. On my way out, my feet kind of steered themselves off the elevator and on to the second floor, down the narrow, windowed hall, past the stairway to the long hall that lead to the NICU. I sat down on one of the benches and stared through the glass doors and into the ward. I smelled the familiar smells. I watched the familiar sight of parents walking by and going through the drill. Sign in. Stick the thermometer under your tongue. Record the reading. Hand-sanitize. Get your key and go see your baby, hoping and praying with every step that she is well. I wondered how early their baby was.

And despite my best efforts to keep myself together, I sat on the bench and cried. I cried for my Lucy. I cried for the woman I was and the man my husband was then. I cried for the parents who were in the throes of this struggle. And I cried for their babies. And in any other setting, I might have made a spectacle of myself, but here, seeing someone you don't know in tears is just part of NICU culture. Because when your newborn looks like this, it's hard to hear even the doctors and nurses over all your worry. You can't see it in the picture, but Lucy has an IV in her head. (There's a hole in the hat, which I kept.) That thing on her face is called a bubble C-pap. There is also a feeding tube running up her nose. The sensor things taped to her torso are measuring breathing or blood flow or something. There is a blood pressure cuff on her foot and I can't remember what that thick tube in the back is for.

Last week, as a part of our connect group story, I read John 9:1-3:

As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man who had been blind from birth. "Rabbi," his disciples asked him, "why was this man born blind? Was it because of his own sins or his parents' sins?" "It was not because of his sins or his parents' sins," Jesus answered. "This happened so the power of God could be seen in him."

 So the power of God could be seen in her.

October 22, 2012, after a 19-day stay in the NICU, we took Lucy home. Within a year, she was caught up with her peers in size, and within two years, she was caught up with them entirely. And from the very moment of her birth, she has been a testament to the power of God.

Keep that up, Lucy Jean.

The Chiropractor

In this post, I discussed how my back has gotten worse instead of better since my run.  After this weekend, it was clear that I needed some help.  So this morning I called a chiropractor recommended by a friend and MERCIFULLY, they had an opening at 2:00.  By that point I had taken over the couch and was moving as little as possible. Sign. Me. Up.

I had to do a fair amount of running around that morning (not something my back was particularly excited about), including a trip to the dentist for my son where they ended up seeing my 19-month-old as well (hope that doesn't bite me in the rear with insurance later).  While we were there, I saw a girl I knew from high school. She was in choir and was several years older than me.  We did the awkward I-recognize-you-but-don't-really-know-you-but-we-made-eye-contact smile and went about our business.

Side note: Among our errands for the day were picking up new glasses for Charlie. (He broke them at church on Sunday, no one quite knows how.)  New glasses always take some getting used to, but I like them!

Anyway, I stashed the kids at mom and dad's while I went to the chiropractor.  I gimped in and began filling out the necessary paperwork.  And, strangely, the girl I knew from high school that I saw at the dentist office just that morning was behind the counter.  Weird.  We again exchanged awkward pleasantries, this time about how odd it was that we would run into each other twice in the same day.  They called me back and did my blood pressure, which they said was low - 101/60.  I have always had EXCELLENT blood pressure - the nurses always comment on it - but I don't think they've ever said "low."  Not sure exactly what that means.

They put me in a waiting room and about two minutes later, in walks the girl. From high school. She was my chiropractor.  I didn't realize it because her last name was different.  So we laughed again, chatted briefly about one another's families, and then got to work.

Let me preface - I had never been to a chiropractor before, so I really had no idea what to expect. I know that medical people I know are leery of them, but then I also know homeopathic people who swear by them and are leery of medical doctors, so who knows?  At this point, I really didn't care - I just wanted to feel better.  So I got on the table face-down.

Pretty much immediately, doc said "Wow...your pelvis is WAY out of whack."  I wasn't sure what that meant, so as she's pushing and prodding, I finally asked.  The conversation went something like this:

Her: It has to do with the positioning of your pelvis.  Did you suffer any kind of sports-related injury as a youngster?
Me: Uh, no. Definitely not.
Her: Did you fall, maybe off a horse or something?
Me: Not off a horse, but I am rather clumsy. Falling is definitely within the realm of possibility.
Her: And why did you have C-sections?
Me: My babies were upside down.
Her: Ah. Well, whatever you did to knock your pelvis, your body has been trying to compensate for it.  It's likely that both your babies were breech because of the positioning of your pelvis.  The spinals performed helped aggravate it and running made it worse.  Let's see what we can do.

And then she proceeded to "adjust" me, which, if you've never been like me, is a bit of a shock.  She shoved, yanked, pressed, and popped ALL OVER.  When she grabbed my neck and yanked, a chorus of "pops" erupted up and down it.  And then SHE DID IT AGAIN ON THE OTHER SIDE.

Holy cow.

When she was done, she said I adjusted "reasonably well" considering my circumstance, and then had me stand up, which I did with very little pain.  Then she had me walk, which I ALSO did with very little pain. Then she told me she wanted to see me Friday.  It was possible that I had a bulged disc, but they would know more on Friday.  Then she took me to the back where they hooked me up to a MASSAGE MACHINE for like, 15 minutes.  It. Was. Awesome.

When I left, I felt 75% better.  I went to 7 PM yoga and was VERY careful.  Doc said to do a lot of stretching and to stretch "to the pain, but not through the pain."  That was hard because I just flat couldn't do about 40% of the class.  But, I got through it.

Here's hoping for some lasting relief!