Well today I was having a very rough day. Things were just not going the way that I planned them. Everything I wanted to get done, did not, and things I didn’t think I had to deal with, came up. When I got home from class today, I walked over to the mailbox before walking to get my son from the babysitters. I expected the usual, bills, flyers, junk. But as I skimmed through I noticed a small envelope addressed to me. I didn’t even think to look at the address on the back as I opened it because I was just too curious. It was a beautiful very spring-like card; bright yellow flower, with a beautiful blue in the background as the sky. Continue reading
Here is a little back story for anyone who hasn’t been following my previous posts:
When I woke up one year ago today, I had no intentions of quitting smoking. I was going through my day, just like any other. Spending time with my husband and my four year old. We were relaxing at home, watching movies because it was it was cold outside and my husband was supposed to be working an overnight shift. I wasn’t feeling very well, was having some minor contractions, I didn’t think that much into it though as I had been having them on and off for a while. My husband had decided to take me in to get checked at the hospital because I started feeling some pressure. When we got there, they did some tests, checked and I was only 5cms dilated. I was not in active labour yet though, my water had not broken. We decided that I would go home and come back to the hospital for 6:30pm unless things changed before then. When I got home, I made sure that everything was ready for me to go, got my mom lined up to watch my daughter, and my husband went off to work because I wasn’t feeling any different. The time rolled around for me to go to the hospital to get checked again. Off I went, in my car alone (bad idea for the record, someone should have driven me). I lit a cigarette, which I often did as long as my daughter was not in the car of course. For what ever reason, when I flicked that cigarette butt out the window (shame on me for littering… I know) I just said to myself, that was it. I would not smoke anymore. And, I didn’t. That was it, I was ready.
Today is Friday February 27th, 2015 and it is ONE YEAR since I quit smoking. Continue reading
Near the end of November, my husband and I were out for dinner one night when we got the one of the worst phone calls we could possibly get. My husbands very BEST friend (brother is more like it) and my children’s Godfather had been in an accident and was in the hospital. Naturally we packed up and drove to see him. We had no idea what we were about to walk into when we got to the hospital. When we arrived, we were informed that he was not going to make it. Continue reading
Dear my first cigarette,
Although it has been many years now since I had you, you have been on my mind a lot lately. I am coming up to a year smoke free, And I think about you almost every day. I think about hiding behind some trees at a nearby park and lighting you with a Bic lighter that I had stolen from my mom, along with you. Had I only had the courage to tell my ‘friends’ that it probably was not a good idea if I did it. If only I knew what lighting you would do to me for over a decade. I wish I would have dropped you on the ground, and shredded you to pieces. Better yet, I almost wish I had smoked you, or tried to anyway but I wish that instead of laughing when I coughed (choking), that I would have been honest, and admitted how disgusting you were. How horrible you tasted, how the taste dried out my mouth, and made me feel like puking. That the scent you left on my fingers, was terrible. I wish I would have used that as a lesson learned, and never to smoke again. But, that is not how our story panned out, now it is? Continue reading
When I was younger, most people around me smoked. My parents smoked, in the car, in the house as well. Neither of them spoke to me about smoking, about it being bad, or the affects it could have on me, or the people around me. My mom smoked while she was pregnant with me, smoking just seemed… normal. My mother started buying me cigarettes when I was under age, she figured it would be easier for her to buy them, than for me to keep stealing the, or finding other ways to purchase them. When my husband was a child, his father did not smoke but his mother did. He was even younger than I was when he started smoking. It was also influenced by friends he had that were older than him. He used to steal cigarettes from his moms packs, but when he got caught, instead of explaining to him that he shouldn’t smoke, she was just concerned about him stealing. I do believe that part of the way our parents handled things was partially due to the fact that there wasn’t quite as much information available to them as there is to us now. It also was not expressed how severe the affects could be. Continue reading
I touched on this subject briefly in a previous post regarding my first pregnancy, but felt that it was something I wanted to elaborate on.
When I was pregnant last, with my youngest, I found that it was the most irritating speaking to health care providers about my smoking. More so than my two previous pregnancies.
When I first discovered I was pregnant with my last son, of course I went to see my nurse practitioner to confirm, and get a referral for an obstetrician. Once it was confirmed, she did the usual history ‘interview’ with me, one of the questions being if I was still smoking . I was honest with her, and told her that I was still smoking, and how much a day. She did NOT criticize, she did NOT give me a look of disgust, nor did she look at me like I was a bad person. Continue reading
In my last post I mentioned that I would be interviewing my husband and our daughter about their feelings towards my quitting smoking. Below are the questions I asked them along with their responses.
My interview with Our daughter:
Do you remember when mommy used to smoke?
“Yes, before Carter was out of your tummy.” Continue reading