The one in which I traveled alone with a toddler, Part 1

So, this post is only... three months late. Let's just pretend it took me at least a month to recover from traveling with a toddler, and also remember that I've had morning sickness, and then the delay makes sense. Also, I started cramming a really, really long story into one absurdly long post, and then I decided to divide it into (at least) two parts. So stay tuned for part 2... because part 1 ends kind of abruptly.

Way back in October, I mentioned that Dan was scheduled to work a 12 hour shift on Christmas Day as well as on the two days before and the two days after. So after me agonizing over it (and Dan saying from day one that I should just spend Christmas with my family,) we decided that Lucas and I would fly down to North Carolina to be with my parents and siblings and my mom's side of the family for Christmas, and then Dan would join us a few days later.

The logistics of flying alone with a toddler were... tricky, to say the least. Dan had to work on Christmas Eve, so my wonderful friend Teri (and her two-year-old son) drove us to the airport. She offered to park and help us get through the doors, but it was approximately -437 degrees outside, so I had her drop us off at the curb rather than having to take her son out in the freezing cold. She had to sit there for at least 30 minutes entertaining the toddlers while I tried desperately to get the car seat out of the car, get it into the rolling car seat bag, and put Lucas in the ErgoBaby Carrier... all while I was completely unable to feel my hands because I had forgotten to wear gloves.

I just want to say this - the TSA gets a pretty bad rap sometimes. They pat you down and x-ray all of your stuff and only let you bring like half an ounce of shampoo on the plane. But if you walk into the airport with a toddler strapped to your chest and a gigantic backpack on your back; wearing a fanny pack (yes, I wore a fanny pack, don't judge me. It was cute. For a fanny pack.); lugging a suitcase, a car seat, and a stroller; and on the verge of tears, there is an excellent chance that a TSA agent will take one look at you and immediately rush to your aid. At least that's what happened to me. Also, a Delta airlines employee let me go to the "International Flights Only" counter because there was no line, and a second employee at the counter gave Lucas crayons and a coloring book and told me to "just relax, it's ok" when I had to go digging frantically through the backpack to get my driver's license because I thought I had put it in my fanny pack but actually I had put my health insurance card in there instead. Obviously.

I was going to have someone take a picture of me carrying 40 billion things for the purposes of your general amusement, but I did not have a spare hand with which to hand anyone the camera. Sorry for your luck. Just imagine a giant pile of luggage and toddler with my stressed-out face poking out the top, and you've got a pretty good idea of what it looked like

I had booked my flight with Lucas (who was just barely young enough to fly on my lap for free and didn't need his own ticket. Woo hoo!) for 10am on Christmas Eve. That way, we would land in just enough time to get to my granddaddy's place and put Lucas down for a nap. Except that when we arrived at the gate at exactly the right time (not so early that we would have to wait beyond what a toddler can handle, not so late that I'd be rushed and panicky,) they said our flight was delayed because of a mechanical problem with the plane. And then an hour later, they said that they were still waiting for the mechanics to come. And then an hour after that, they rolled out a cart with free snacks and beverages for us to enjoy while we waited. Not a good sign. Fortunately, some brilliant, kind, motherly soul had thought to put three of these near the gate:

Three hours after our flight was originally scheduled to take off (and after it was determined that our original plane couldn't be fixed so a replacement had to be found,) we finally boarded the plane. I had planned to write a super-helpful post on how to fly alone with a toddler without losing your mind (and I might still do that after we fly with him again later this month,) and I was going to include super-helpful pictures like this one:

This is the stuff I brought on the plane to entertain Lucas.
Plus a DVD player, Elmo DVDs and headphones.
And enough snacks for eight weeks.

But it turns out the thing that was the most helpful was that the person who was seated next to us was a really sweet lady (who - and this has nothing to do with anything - was an infectious disease specialist) who treated Lucas like he was her own grandchild... or a nephew she liked pretty well. She spread her coat on her lap and let him lay his head on it, she let him play with her watch and her magazine, and she generally helped to keep him entertained and happy long after he was supposed to be napping. It was wonderful. I'm pretty sure she doesn't rent herself out as a travel companion for flustered moms, though, so that's not really helpful to the rest of you. And if you specifically request to be seated next to an infectious disease specialist for your flight, you might end up being subjected to some additional screening by the TSA. So I don't recommend that.

We finally arrived in Charlotte well after Lucas should have been napping, and my dad and brother picked us up at the airport (and they were both sufficiently impressed that I had carried all of our worldly goods [or, you know, just our luggage] all by myself.) The highlight for Lucas was when we took an unbearably bumpy bus ride that served as a shuttle to my dad's car. I was very carsick - and probably an unpleasant shade of green - when the shuttle finally stopped, at which point Lucas piped up with "Again! Again!" Apparently he hasn't yet learned to recognize my "mommy's about to barf" face.

After that, we were off to see a bunch of my relatives... with a toddler who hadn't napped.

To be continued... (That's a dramatic way of saying "I'm going to talk about toddler puke and expiration dates in my next post.") While you're waiting for the dramatic conclusion of this story, don't forget to enter a giveaway for $100 in Mattel toys here.

You can read part 2 here.

10 Things Your Best Friend Would Tell You About Recovering from a C-section (If she had a tendency to overshare.)

Here's my story: The whole time I was pregnant, our plan was for my husband Dan to deliver our baby. He was in his final year of an ER residency at the hospital where we delivered, he had already helped deliver babies there, and my awesome OB-GYN thought it would be amazing for him to deliver our child. Her plan was to sit nearby in the rocking chair while he delivered, just in case he needed any advice. Then my amniotic sac (aka "water") developed a slow leak without me going into labor. About ten hours after it had started leaking, I still hadn't had a single contraction and I was only 1cm dilated, so I was hooked up to a Pitocin drip. After a whole night on Pitocin (and 24 hours after "the leak" began,) I was only 4cm dilated, my son was face up, his head was not at all engaged in my pelvis, and his heart rate started dropping after each contraction. So we talked with my OB, and we all decided that a c-section was the best option. (When my OB delivered our son, she realized that his umbilical cord had been trapped between his head and my pelvis, so if his head had moved down, it could've clamped off his cord and become an emergency.)

I hadn't even bothered to pay attention when they talked about c-sections in our childbirth class, because I "knew" I wasn't going to have one. So here are some things I didn't know that you might want to know if you've just had a c-section, if you're having a scheduled c-section, or if, like me, you're totally sure that you'll never need a c-section. You know - just in case.

(Just to warn you, I'm going to talk about some things that could potentially be awkward. Like pooping. And sex. So if you don't want to read about those things, go read something I wrote that's less awkward. Like my recipe for chicken with zucchini and squash.) 

Nothing in this post should be misconstrued as medical advice, and it definitely shouldn't take the place of real medical advice from a real medical professional - these are just some friendly tips from one mommy to another. When in doubt, ask your doctor/midwife/nurse.

1. Walk, walk, walk.
When I shared the news of my son's birth on Facebook, I also shared that I had a c-section. And I got a few messages from awesome women in my life (at least one of whom - an old friend from summer camp - I hadn't spoken with in years) who had had c-sections and offered advice and encouragement. The one thing they all advised was to walk as much as I could, so I started walking (up and down the halls) the day after Lucas was born, and I think it helped a lot (not that I have anything to compare it to, but still.) As with anything else, listen to your body and don't overdo it.

2. Take the stool softener.
From what I've heard, pooping the first time after you have a child is always a pain - literally - whether you delivered vaginally or by c-section. But if you have a c-section, you have the added problem that many pain medications can make you constipated. I was on Percocet after my c-section, and that stuff stops you up like you wouldn't believe. It was kind of awful. So any time they offer you a stool softener/laxative in the hospital, TAKE IT! (And if they don't offer you one, ask for it.) Drink prune juice, mix fiber in your drink (if your doctor says it's ok), eat tons of fresh fruits and veggies, and TAKE THE STOOL SOFTENER. I cannot stress that strongly enough. For me, constipation was the worst part of my recovery. Moving on from the fact that I just told everyone I couldn't poop...

3. Stay in the hospital as long as they'll let you.
I know, I know; you just want to get home to your own bed and your own clothes and your own nursery that you spent the last nine months decorating. But those things will still be there in a day or two, and in the meantime, you should  take advantage of the fact that you can have healthy meals delivered to your bed and a few extra pairs of hands to help with diaper changes. Remember, you're recovering from a major surgery; more help is a good thing. Most insurance companies cover four days in the hospital after a c-section, so if you can get it, take it.

Our last morning in the hospital. Goodbye, 24-hour nursing staff! Goodbye, being able to have ice water delivered to my bed at 4am with the touch of a button! Goodbye, all-you-can-eat steamed broccoli!

4. Sleep as much as you can.
All new moms are told to sleep when the baby sleeps, but this is especially important when you're recovering from a major surgery on top of new-mom sleep-deprivation. The laundry will wait. The dishes will wait. Go take a nap.

5. You still can't wear tampons.
Maybe I'm alone in this, but I kind of thought that the whole "no sex or tampons for at least six weeks" thing was just because your vagina goes through a traumatic experience during childbirth and needs some recovery time. Actually, it's because you still have an open wound where the placenta was connected to your uterus. So putting anything into your vagina is a no-no while this wound is healing because you run the risk of accidentally introducing bacteria into your uterus and causing an infection. So even if you deliver by c-section instead of vaginally, you're still going to have to use pads for your postpartum bleeding. Sorry. And while we're kind of on the subject...

6. Sex still might hurt for a while.
This is something I neither knew nor expected. I knew that sex was painful for the first few times if you had a vaginal delivery, but I assumed that it was just because, you know, you had pushed a baby out of your vagina. But sex was still painful for me the first few times after having a c-section (and I don't mean it was painful at the site of my incision, if you catch my drift.) I'm guessing it was because of hormones (and my son was breastfed, which causes you to be extra dry.) Use lots of lube, and take it slowly. It gets better.

7. It's ok to feel sad, but if you're too sad for too long, talk to your doctor.
Some women feel some sadness after having an unplanned c-section. If you had a picture in your mind of how your baby was going to be born and then circumstances outside of your control resulted in an unplanned c-section, it's normal to feel a little disappointed. I was fortunate in that I didn't deal with any feelings of sorrow over my c-section after my son was born (although I did cry when we all realized I'd need to have one,) but I know that some women do feel sad over it, and that can be totally normal. But my concern is that if it seems to you that your excessive feelings of sadness, guilt or anger have a legitimate cause, you might be less likely to recognize if they're actually symptoms of postpartum depression. So if your feelings of sadness don't go away or if they get worse, talk to your doctor about them.

8. Ask for (or accept) help.
This one can be tough, but things will go much more easily if you do it! If someone asks if there's anything they can do to help, say yes! And if they don't offer, don't feel bad asking for specific favors from close friends or family members. If you're breastfeeding, no one else can take over the feedings (obviously,) but that doesn't mean they can't change diapers, do some laundry, or rock your baby while you take a nap. If your neighbor's planning a trip to the grocery store, ask if she can pick up a few items for you, too. The women from my Bible Study brought me meals for two weeks, and I can't even tell you how wonderful it was not to have to think about getting/making food while I was recovering.

9. You might have to buy more pants.
I forget how long it took before I could fit into my pre-pregnancy pants, but even when they fit well, I still couldn't wear my jeans comfortably. The waistbands on all of my pre-pregnancy jeans were positioned at just the wrong height so that they were fine while I was standing, but when I sat, they pressed right into my c-section scar. The scar was tender if something rubbed/pressed against it for at least nine months after my son was born, and I had given up on ever wearing my pre-pregnancy jeans again and purchased all new jeans with higher waist bands by the time the sensitivity finally went away. Now I have tons of jeans, so I guess that wasn't necessarily bad.

10. It gets better.
At first, simple things like laughing are going to hurt. You're going to be tired and sore for a while. But it gets better. I promise. And yes, your scar will fade a whole lot. On the days (or the nights. Especially the nights.) that it's really tough, it doesn't hurt to tell yourself out loud - "This is temporary. It will get better." Then send an email or a text to a fellow mom who can relate, and tell her you need some encouragement. (If you don't know who to email, my email is bejaneum[at]gmail[dot]com.) It gets better. Pinky swear.

Bonus tips for if you haven't had your c-section yet:

11. Daddy might be able to do skin-to-skin contact with baby if you can't.
Skin-to-skin contact - also called Kangaroo Care - is when a newborn baby is placed naked (or wearing only a hat and diaper) on mom's bare skin, and it's great for newborns. (You can read more about why it's good for them here.) I was really determined that I would do skin-to-skin contact with my baby as soon as he was born, so one of the first things I thought of when we realized a c-section was a distinct possibility was that I wouldn't be able to have skin-to-skin contact right away since I'd be getting sutured closed. So Dan asked if he could do it instead. My OB had the nurses bring him scrub pants and a hospital gown, which he wore with the opening in the front, and he was able to hold Lucas against his bare chest while I was still on the operating table. Since then, my OB recommends it to all of her c-section patients, and she even wrote a letter about it that was published in a medical journal (I have a copy in Lucas's baby book.) If you've found out that you're going to need a c-section, ask your OB about this ahead of time. (You can even mention that it was suggested in the May 2013 issue of OBG Management if you really want to sound like you've done your homework on the subject.)

Yes, I know Dan is wearing a jacket here. This was taken later. We don't have a picture of it, ok?

12. Bring one or two pairs of long, comfy socks to the hospital.
Because you'll likely stay in bed for 18-24 hours after your c-section, they'll probably put these plastic things on your lower legs that inflate and deflate to massage your legs and prevent blood clots. When they first put them on, you'll be like, "Ahh! Leg massage! This is so luxurious!" And then after ten minutes, you'll be asking the nurse to please, please, pretty please take them off just for one minute, please!! Plastic against your bare skin just feels sticky and sweaty and uncomfortable. I imagine that soft cotton knee-high socks would help a lot. (I say "I imagine" because I didn't know about the plastic massagers of misery and was stuck trying to bargain with the nurse that if she took them off for just five minutes, I swore I would flex my legs the entire time and also use sheer force of will to prevent blood clots.)

So there you have it: c-section recovery advice from a mom who "knew" she wasn't going to need a c-section. Do you have any advice to add to this list? Please share in the comments!

Will you click this to vote for me? Thank you ever so kindly!

I have the holiday blues, and it's only October...

I love, love, love Christmas. I could listen to Christmas carols starting in July. I once begged Dan to let me leave our (artificial) Christmas tree up until June. (In a surprising turn of events, he said yes. But I chickened out sometime in mid-February.) Dan and I got married right before Christmas almost seven years ago, which gave me yet another reason to love my favorite holiday ever.

This picture is only kind of related to this post, but it is fabulous.

I stock up on Christmas ornaments everywhere we go, and I may have gone ever-so-slightly overboard with Lucas's gifts for his first Christmas last year.

In my defense, I'm pretty sure everyone needs a gigantic stuffed hedgehog for Christmas.

So it's kind of an understatement to say that I start looking forward to Christmas ridiculously early. Like, starting December 26. But... we just got Dan's work schedule for December, and he works five twelve-hour shifts in the days surrounding Christmas and on Christmas Day. Whomp whomp.

Dan likes being an ER doctor, and I'm ridiculously proud of him, but the whole "your place of employment literally never closes, ever, not even once, for any reason whatsoever" thing is not my favorite. So my choices are to spend Christmas at home with no family within a few hundred miles and only see Dan after Lucas has gone to bed or fly to visit family (With a toddler. By myself.) and not see Dan on Christmas at all. And frankly, I kind of hate both choices! Do you think that I could get the hospital to close the ER if I got enough people to sign a petition promising not to have any emergencies? As a backup plan, maybe I'll bring our Christmas tree and gifts to the emergency room and have Dan open presents with us in between patients. I really don't see how the hospital could object to that.

If you vote for me here, your Christmas wish will come true. 

Assuming of course that your Christmas wish is that my husband will have to work. 

Which honestly is kind of a mean wish.

Also, this.

Stuff on my walls

I would love to live in a home where every wall had something fabulous on it. The hard part is that I have to be the one to find all of those things to hang on my walls, and that's a lot of work! Especially because the majority of my artistic taste is just me knowing which things I don't want to hang on my walls... which isn't terribly helpful.

Anyway, I like when other people post pictures of things they've put on their walls with tips (or links) so that I can copy their look and then pretend I came up with the idea all by myself if anyone ever asks. (Haha! Just kidding. I'm that annoying person who has to give you some long back-story if you ever compliment anything in my home.) So while my walls are (and probably always will be) a work in progress, here are some things hanging on my walls that I really, really like. (Complete with back-stories. Obviously.) Feel free to borrow any of these ideas, provided that you include a plaque under it that says "I got this idea from Bethany. She's fabulous." underneath it. (Ok, fine. Don't get the plaque.) So without further ado, here's some stuff on my walls. (Non-disclaimer: Nobody paid me to show you any of this, and none of it was given to me for free. Unless Dan gave it to me as a gift, which is ok, because he's my husband, and I'll say nice things about him even if he doesn't give me stuff.)

"Our House is a Mess" poem (aka "Song for a Fifth Child")

"So quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep. I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep."

When Lucas was a a few months old (see? I told you everything would have a back-story), I was talking to my dad about the fact that I never got any housework done, and he showed me the poem "Song for a Fifth Child" by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton. I loved it so much that I decided I wanted to hang it on my wall. I found an etsy seller who designs various "stuff" for your wall and asked her if she would make this poem pretty for me, so she did! You can buy your own copy of it here. She'll also customize the colors for you. This is hanging by my front door so that people know right off the bat that my house is a disaster...

Pictures of Our Fairytale

These are on  two different walls across from each other. In case you can't tell that.

In the last two places we lived, I had four of our wedding pictures hanging under a wood sign that says "and they lived happily ever after" (which I think I bought on ebay six years ago, so I can't link to where I got it.) After Lucas was born, he became a big part of our "happily ever after" (and a HUGE part of our "living with a lot less sleep," but that phrase doesn't look quite as cute on the wall), so I bought the "Once Upon a Time..." sign (from this ebay store) to hang above the wedding pictures. These pictures are in our home's entryway. I haven't decided yet how many more frames I'll add to the "happily ever after" wall. I guess it depends on how happy we are (so far, very)... or how often I get around to putting more pictures in frames.

An Awesome Caricature of My Husband... Who is Awesome

I should probably point out that he is wearing that shirt because I bought it for him to wear at his graduation party,
and not because he likes to walk around advertising that he's a doctor.

No joke, I found this medical school graduation gift idea for my husband at least a year and a half before he actually graduated from medical school. It's the farthest in advance that I've ever planned a gift. Giveacaricature.com actually charged me extra because I insisted that they add so many extra details (as if it's MY fault that my husband is a water-skiing pilot/doctor/cop who worked out of emergency helicopters,) but I thought the result was worth it. This is hanging in Dan's office in our house.

Pregnant Me

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb."

A good friend of mine took some fantastic maternity photos when I was six months pregnant with Lucas (yes, that's what I looked like at six months pregnant. At nine months pregnant, I looked like Lucas was standing on end with his feet on my spine and his head on my belly button. I was a torpedo.) I used Picasa (which was called Picnik back in those days) to put the verses on it. It's hanging in Lucas's bedroom.

Wall Art for Forgetful People

A list of the birthdays we forget.

Dan and I used forget our family members' birthdays all the time. And then I saw an awesome idea on Pinterest for a birthday calendar and found this etsy shop that makes really cute ones in any colors you want. I asked Dan for one for my birthday (after telling him the exact colors I wanted and listing everyone's birthdays, obviously) and now it's hanging in our kitchen. To be honest, we still forget everyone's birthday, but we no longer have an excuse. And we have something cute in our kitchen now, so it's still an improvement I guess.

Ok, so those are some of my favorite things hanging on the walls of our home. If you've written any posts with pictures of things on the walls in your house, please give me the link in the comments so I can steal your ideas. Thanks!

Statistics show that most people who click this are talented and ridiculously good looking.

The one in which I am bad at emergencies but great at smelling.

A "fun" fact about me is that I'm fairly awful under pressure. If you ever have an emergency, I will be happy to sympathize with you after the fact, but you really, really shouldn't call me for help during the emergency unless you're prepared to give me very detailed step-by-step instructions on what to do. I don't even freak out, necessarily; I just become completely immobile because I literally have no idea what I should do. It's like my brain sees an emergency and decides to take a time-out until the emergency is over. Fortunately, I am married to someone who has chosen "being good at emergencies" as a career THREE times. He worked as an EMT while attending police academy, then he worked as a police officer while attending medical school, and now he works as an emergency physician. So he is professionally good at emergencies, and I am a disaster at them. I have often maintained that Dan is proof that God takes care of me. I know of only one police officer/ER doctor in the world, and I'm married to him.

Anyway, this morning when I woke up, I came out into our living room and smelled a very, very faint smell of natural gas. (Dan hadn't smelled anything when he left for work, but he always tells me I have the nose of a bloodhound, so it's not unusual for me to smell something that he can't.) Since I just told you how bad I am at dealing with emergencies, I will now give you a multiple choice quiz to test your reading comprehension skills.

Question: When I smelled gas in my house this morning, what did I do?
     
     A - Called the gas company.
     B - Called 911.
     C - Ran around screaming.
     D - Stood there sniffing for a while, made a cup of coffee, opened a window, drank a few sips of coffee, sent text messages to various people that said "I just woke up, and I think our house kind of smells like natural gas! What should I do?" And then when my professionally good-at-emergencies husband responded with, "Call the gas company and get out of the house," I promptly forgot the name of our gas company and then was unable to figure out how I could find their phone number, so he had to text it to me. And then I put on eyeliner before I called them. 

Um. The answer is D. D, people! I put on eyeliner before I called the gas company.

The fact that I'm writing this is obviously an indication that I'm not dead, so that's good. The gas company sent someone out, and she walked around with some sort of meter that checked for gas in our house, and she found nothing. And then she went outside and checked our line and our meter, and still found nothing. So of course I felt like an idiot. But at least I was wearing eyeliner.

She left, and I took Lucas upstairs and put him in the pack and play so that I could take a shower now that I had been assured that we weren't going to die, and I sent follow-up texts to the people I had texted initially (and by the way, out of the three people I texted, all three knew to call the gas company before putting on eyeliner...) letting them know that I was just crazy and there was no gas. And then I heard a knocking at the door and then someone open the door and yell, "Hello? Hello?"

It turns out that the gas company sprays something on your gas meter to check for leaks, and at first she hadn't seen anything, but then when she went to rinse it off before she left, there were tons of bubbles all over it, which meant there was a leak in our gas meter. Outside. Far away from where I had smelled the gas. And all of the windows were closed. At least three times, she said "There is no way you could've smelled that from inside." Except that I did. And when I texted Dan to tell him, he responded with "Ha!!! That's because you are a bloodhound."

It was a simple fix, and we weren't ever actually in danger, which is nice, but this is probably an indication that Dan should conduct mandatory disaster drills in our home on a weekly basis so that I don't drown because a water pipe bursts and I spend hours sitting under it while wondering what I should do.

In the meantime, if you can think of a good name for a super hero whose super power is an incredible sense of smell but whose main weakness is an inability to do anything when there's an emergency, please let me know.

"Married to Medicine"

Many of you saw this post on my Facebook page about a month ago:

Well after I got over the fact that Bravo shunned me, I decided that I could still capitalize on the reality show material that is my life. After all, I'm almost exactly as glamorous as the women on the show. Take Friday for example - I started off the day with an oatmeal hair mask designed to make my hair silky and shiny for my next social event. I mean, if you want to get technical about it, it wasn't so much an "oatmeal hair mask" as it was Gerber oatmeal spit out by my son. And my next social event involved a play date for two one-year-old boys. But still. Toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe. 

In case you want to see the trailer, you can see it here. But really, you don't need to watch the trailer, because you can get a sneak peek into the life of a real doctor's wife right here on this very blog! Sure, I spend more time reading "How Loud is a Lion?" than sipping champagne while wearing diamonds and a fur coat. And yes, I typically wear yoga pants and slippers instead of an evening gown and stilettos. But the point is that we doctors' wives are a glamorous bunch. And as evidenced on the show's trailer, it's our style to use the phrase "doctor's wife" at least once every three sentences. Otherwise, how would anyone ever know how glamorous and sophisticated we truly are? I'm so glad that someone finally made a show about doctor's wives so that they could perpetuate the idea that doctors are raking money in hand over fist and don't owe a quarter of a million dollars in medical school loans.*

In conclusion, I would just like to say - "doctor's wife."

*When Dan was applying to medical schools, a financial representative at one of the schools said, "We prefer to call it '$250,000 in debt' instead of 'a quarter of a million in debt' because it sounds better." And he's right, when you put it that way, it gives you the warm, fuzzy feeling that you'll be paying off debt for the rest of your natural life.