Katyland! Life is Sweet

An update 4 years in the making

I wanted to take this opportunity to talk a bit about my life and what has been going on these last few years since my last entry. It's been a while!

Chuck and I have been married for 7 years in August. We are happy.

Our girls (Charlette and Kallista) turned 7 in August as well. Looking back in my archives, you can see their pre-natal development. They're so smart and fun, each with their own distinct personalities. We really like My Little Pony; Friendship Is Magic. If you're familiar with the show, Kallista is like Twilight Sparkle and Charlette is like Rarity. They even have their own hair cuts for about a year now.

Our son, OWen, is 5 with his birthday coming up at the end of the year. He's our Pinky Pie. He's very exuberant, silly and rambunctious. He's been wearing glasses now for about 6 months as well. He looks so smart and studious and he can see so much better. He's learning and growing so much.

Quincy, our youngest son, turned 2 in July. He's way too smart, climbs way too much, doesn't fear anything, and says "no" more often than anything else. He can communicate so well, even though he doesn't use complete sentences, if you listen you can figure out what he's trying to say.

In February 2012, I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. I had gestational diabetes with my first two pregnancies, so I knew a bit about it, like taking shots, carb counting, how to handle illnesses and emergencies and so on. But when I was diagnosed, I felt like my life as I knew it had ended. I grieved.

Here's the story of how I was diagnosed. I had a stomach flu and didn't feel well. I was trying to stay hydrated, so I had been drinking sugar-free lemonade and resting. I wasn't feeling much better, though, and I went to sleep fitfully. I woke several times overnight to throw up. It felt like every hour. I tried to wake up Chuck but I didn't try too hard. The next time I know, I am waking up in the hospital. Chuck is telling me that the doctors say I have diabetes and I'll be on shots forever. I kind of came and went, sleeping and waking. Chuck had left for work the morning after my vomiting, but he had come back to bring me a gatorade and check on me. He found me in the bathroom, throwing stuff out of the drawers and off the counter. He tried to get my attention, but he couldn't. I was unconscious, essentially. In a coma. He got me dressed, loaded the kids in the van, called his sister to come get them from the hospital, came back to get me only to find that I had undressed myself again. So he got me dressed again and took me to the hospital. They asked if I was always catatonic and unresponsive. No, Chuck told them, that was not how I normally acted and something was wrong. They did all kinds of tests on me, and found that my white blood cell count was high, and eventually that my blood sugar was off the charts. When I woke up, it was the evening of the same day he found me, and the doctors were treating my blood sugar, infection, and weight loss. I had lost about 30 lbs from being undiagnosed for about 2 years. I think my diabetes symptoms truly started either during my pregnancy with Owen, or just before. My blood sugars in that pregnancy were not good, Owen's at birth were not good, and I think that's because I went half the pregnancy not treating it basically. Anyway, I spent 5 days in the hospital getting my infection treated, blood sugar under control (that itself was a nightmare, hospital policies on blood sugars are terrible), and getting my electrolytes back to normal. Then I went home and tried to find some semblance of normal. I've been living with type 1 diabetes ever since. It's not something you get cured of.

In July 2013, our latest addition to the Themm clan was born: Quincy David. David is my father's name and I love it, and Quincy is really special if you spell it out. It has 5 letters from all the rest of our names. Check it:

Ha ha, I love that.

In October 2013, I got a knock on my door. It was a CPS worker and a city inspector. My neighbor had called CPS and the CPS worker couldn't find our front door, because the neighbor had the address wrong, and she was doing a welfare check. The inspected our small apartment and said it was too small for our family, and we had too much stuff; that was a fire hazard. So they gave us "notice" and we later got a letter saying we had a deadline of January 5th to move out. They inspected again 2 weeks later and said we had to leave that night.

The kids and I went to a local Mission shelter. The women and children shelter was a completely separate building from the men's shelter, so Chuck couldn't live with us. He ended up just staying at our old place. It was fine for one person, but not a whole family. The shelter was terrible. They constantly undermined my authority with my children, had stupid, ridiculous rules in place that I had to follow or I'd "be asked to leave" and then we'd really really be homeless. We spent 7 months living there, from November 2013 to March 2014. We looked and looked for a place to live, we got on an assistance program for rent, and we got the fuck out of there. I hated my time there. It was a Christian shelter. They made us do twice-daily church services. And it was fucking terrible.

Reading my past entries, I don't know why I tried to hard to go to church. Whatever I was looking for, it wasn't there. I remember going to the Catholic church one Sunday, the girls were about 3 and Owen was about 2. It was not what I wanted. The ritual of it, the worship of it, I hate that. I can now affirmatively say I don't believe in God, gods or whatever you want. I honestly think my high blood sugars and undiagnosed diabetes were contributing to a chemical imbalance in my brain and basically giving me a mental illness. Or that small apartment was sucking the life out of me, take your pick. And no, Chuck did not tell me that, he never suggested it. Reading back in time, I don't know exactly why I was in such a bad place. Maybe I only wrote in my diary if I was miserable. Maybe it brought the worst out of me. I don't know, but I am in such a better place now.

Chuck and I went to marriage counseling and I went to a few private sessions when I was living at the shelter. We worked through a lot of things and we are happier than ever. Honestly. I know some of you reading may be shocked, surprised, skeptical, what-have-you. I've read the notes I got back then. I remember the advice I was given. I love my husband and I love our life.

We now live in a nice 3 bedroom upstairs apartment with 1.5 bathrooms. It's so nice to have two toilets! And we have a nice, generous fenced-in front yard the kids can play in, along with a parking driveway to rival a shop. When we have our weekly board game nights, everyone parks in our little "parking lot" and they don't have to worry about getting a spot on the street. Our girls share a room and a closet, our boys share a room and a closet, and Chuck and I share a room but have our own closets. I love it. It has a kitchen with a large space for our table and has a balcony right off of it where we grow herbs, tomatoes and peppers. Chuck even has a little "nook" off of the living room we call his craft section where he keeps all his crafting stuff out of the way. It's upstairs above the landlord's workshop, but he lives somewhere else. Otherwise, there's no other tenants here and we have the whole second floor. We have plenty of space for our people and our stuff.

If you've read down this far, kudos to you. Leave me a note or hit me up on social media.

7:26 P.M. - 10.01.15