Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

          Today most people will wake up like any other Monday. They will go about their business, whether it be work, school, taking care of their children, or any other regular routine they complete. This particular Monday has different meaning to a few of us out in the world. It is a day for us to remember those we lost, those we did not get to bring home, those we may not have gotten to hold in our arms (or we did but only for a moment), those that the world often forgets about except us. They were our babies. They left their footprints on our hearts.  

            On October 25, 1988, President of the United States, Ronald Regan, designated the month of October as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. Later, in 2002, October 15 was recognized as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. A day for those of us whom have lost. To light a candle to remember those that left their footprints on our hearts. This year I will light four. 

            This past Spring I suffered another miscarriage. Statistically, 1 in 4 women will experience a pregnancy or infant loss at some point in their child bearing years. I unfortunately have experienced a few more. They have all been very different. One made it to the early stage of the second trimester, two to the end of the first trimester, and one barely got started. Three had heart beats that we saw, two grew according to plan until their little hearts stopped beating, one struggled, and one we don’t know. Each one heartbreaking in their own right. 

            After my second miscarriage, the doctors wanted to run a bunch of tests not only on the baby but also my husband and myself. It was a very challenging time for me. We got the lab results back on the baby and also our own. The baby was a girl with trisomy 22. A genetic abnormality that is incompatible with life. Our lab results came back with no genetic chromosomes or traits found. It was deemed that the baby suffered a random chromosomal mismatch. My doctor talked to me at length at our next appointment, assuring me that the likelihood of me having anymore would be very, very small. And then it did again. Twice. After my third miscarriage, my doctors called me a “statistical outlier.” At which point they enrolled us in a genetics study to help find answers as to why there are some of us “statistical outliers” out in the world. 

            The first two miscarriages I experienced I did not talk about initially. What can one say anyways? Often times mothers suffer in silence in these circumstances. People do not understand, and they will tell you that they don’t. Thanks to a fellow coworker and friend telling me of her own experience of a pregnancy loss she experienced at 6 months and the love she showed me, I felt moved to speak of my own story. Her story helped me realize I was not alone in my emotions, that at times can be like a roller coaster. And so, I share my story often. In fact, two years ago I wrote three blog posts in the month of October. They were dedicated to this particular subject. I wrote about the statistics. I wrote about my experience as a Labor and Delivery nurse and fetal demise deliveries. And I wrote about my experience as a mother. You can review those blogs by clicking the folder October 2016. 

            I recently read an article about an initiative to raise awareness to this subject. They encourage those of us who have experienced pregnancy and infant loss to share our stories. There are more of us out there than you realize. If you are reading this post but are not comfortable sharing your story just yet, know you are not alone. I choose to share my story, so others will know there are people out there who understand and will support them. If you do want to share your story, they want you to create a social media post, use the #IHaveFootprintsOnMyHeart and #PregnancyandInfantLossAwareness

I encourage anyone to share their story in my comments or on your own social media page. You just never know who you can help or who is suffering in silence.

For more information please go to:

http://nationalshare.org/news/2018-pregnancy-and-infant-loss-awareness/

Graduate School

     

 I just submitted my final paper for this semester! I feel like singing, and crying, and eating a whole tub of ice cream. I bet I can do all of those things simultaneously (I’ll let you know later). Next week I start the clinical portion of my practicum semester. It will be a different routine and new experiences, not only for me but also for my family. My family. There are times I have questioned my decision to go back to graduate school at this time in my life. It at times can be hard to manage. Trying to get my studying in, my papers written, my research completed all while balancing life with my family. I once had a person say to me, “well at least you are a stay at home mom.” That indeed is true, I am a stay at home mom. I give major credit to the mothers out there balancing work, school and families. That is no easy task and they are simply amazing human beings. I would like to offer this. A working mother tends to have to get up early to squeeze in time for school. She often will sneak in school time on lunch (if she gets one) or stays up past bedtime folding laundry while reading in between loads. I know, I was there once. The first time I went back to school for my bachelor’s degree I was that mother. I worked a full-time job, had a baby at home and was taking a full schedule of classes. I know how hard it is. 

            This go around is different. I have more kids. I am not currently working but still taking a full schedule of classes. My study times however have not changed. I still have to get up early to work on school work, or during nap time or at night once everyone is tucked into bed. Because with a 1 year old and a 3 year old at home, let’s be honest, study time during waking hours just does not happen. Someone is hungry. Someone spilled their milk. Someone wants to do a puzzle. Someone wants to be pushed in the swing. The wants and needs of small children does not allow for time to do research and write meaningful papers that my professors feel are worthy of a graduate student. It is still hard. Just in a different way.

            And so I question it. Am I doing the right thing. Am I neglecting time I should be focusing on doing things for my family. I always had wanted to further my education, but life changed paths. I got married. Had a family. Those dreams got tucked into the back corner to be revisited later. And then later came. And I submitted my application for graduate school. Sometimes I wonder if I could go back in time would I make different choices. Would I tell myself to finish and do everything with school that I want before having a family? Then I think of all of the times I have sat at the counter doing homework with my oldest after the other two have gone to bed. Or the times he has celebrated an A I received. I am teaching him that hard work pays off in school. I am teaching him that anything you want is worth the efforts and sacrifices. I hope that someday when my kids are older they appreciate my efforts and are proud of the mother that they have. And so, I continue to push forward. I have one full semester left after this one, the light at the end of the tunnel (at least this tunnel) is near. Then who knows what the future holds but I assure you this, I will take a month to binge watch ALL of the seasons of shows I have missed in the last year and a half before I start my next chapter!

Running For a Reason

           

           As if I do not have enough going on in life, packing, moving states, Graduate school, three little kids, I thought I needed to mix it up and train for another half marathon; and do some fund raising for an organization that is near and dear to my heart. On December 1st I will be toeing the line to the St. Jude half marathon, in Memphis Tennessee. 

            Last year I ran my first full marathon. It was the St. Jude, in Memphis. It was the most amazing and humbling experience of my life. Well you know, minus growing and raising three little humans. St. Jude is a non-profit organization that provides cancer treatment and research to thousands of children, without cost to them or their families. We lived in Memphis for 8 years. Memphians are proud of St. Jude and what they do for childhood cancer. I remember hearing all about St. Jude, however the profoundness of their impact did not take hold until I got a first-hand account from a friend and coworker. She told me her story and her experience with her son going through St. Jude. Her story left a rawness and a desire to do something for them. Besides other things, my husband and I sponsored a couple of family dinners for the children and their families that were staying at Ronald McDonald house. One particular dinner, I asked my Chief (those were the years I was on the fire department) if he could send down some rigs to the dinner for the children to see. I also had met a Captain from Shelby County fire department and he brought over their rescue truck. It was a wonderful experience. Watching them come out to the trucks, sit in the seats and try on our bunker gear tugs at your heart. 

            After we moved from Tennessee, I still wanted to do something. Last year I decided I wanted to train and run a full marathon. But I needed it to be more than just doing it for myself. So, I signed up as what they call a “hero.” These are individuals who set a fundraising goal to raise money to help support St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. Last year I set my goal for $1,500. On race day morning I checked my fundraising page and was overcome and speechless to see that I had raised $1,750. It meant so much to me to know so many people believed in my efforts and not only wanted to support me but more than that they wanted to help the children. Every year we see commercials asking for donations for St. Jude and I can assure you the money is well spent. They are doing amazing things for children affected with cancer. And when you look in the eyes of those children it drives you to want to do more. Unfortunately, I have a lot on my plate right now and did not think training for a full marathon was in my reach, however I will be doing the half. To make it worthwhile even more, I am doubling my fundraising efforts this year and set my personal goal at $3,000. Over the next two months I will share stories from my race last year and push hard to reach my fundraising goals this year. I know crossing that 13.1 finish line is nothing compared to the race those children are facing. At the bottom you will find a link to my fundraising page. Anything helps if you can. And if not even sharing my page to give others an opportunity to donate is appreciated. Thank you ❤️

http://fundraising.stjude.org/site/TR?px=4565232&pg=personal&fr_id=88563

The Contract

         I remember the first day I walked through the door of our home. It was the day we signed papers, closing the sale. I had not previously seen the house. Having sent my husband to West Virginia with a finely crafted list of homes I had looked at on Zillow. Thankfully, our realtor walked me through the home via FaceTime, however, until that day I had not actually crossed the threshold physically. I walked through the door and was overcome with emotion. My husband had just finished his fellowship, we had survived residency and fellowship, survived our years in the expensive city of Seattle, and this marked a new chapter in our lives. The very first thing I encountered was the magnificent fireplace. 

It rendered me speechless. In that first instant, years of family pictures in front of it crossed my mind. I saw visions of decorations lining the beautifully reclaimed barn wood mantel. I think I probably stood there for two minutes while years of visions of our family sitting around it crossed my mind. Last summer we built a fireplace and outdoor patio. 

We have spent countless nights by the fire, roasting marshmallows for s’mores, visiting with family and friends, taking in the majestic West Virginia sunsets, and making memories that will last me a lifetime.

I was taught in my youth that a home is anywhere you make it. This was our first family home. We have enjoyed amazing family moments here that we will be able to reminisce for years to come. Our family grew by one in this house, and we also gained a furry friend. So much laughter and love has transpired in this home. I walk around it saddened by the fact that we have to say goodbye to it. After five days on the market we got an offer on the house. We signed papers putting it under contract yesterday. Very soon another family will make this their home. I hope they love this house as much as we have. I hope they will create their own family memories here. I look forward to finding another house to make a home for our little family. We are now one step closer to our next great adventure.

Matters of the Heart ❤️

It has taken me a few days of reflection to be able to write this post and hopefully articulate it in a way that provides comfort and solace to those besides our family that our move affects. It is easy for me to write about what this move means and how it has and will affect our family. However, it is not lost upon us what this move will mean to the warriors, affectionately known to us as the heart kids, and their families. This decision was not easily made. We had numerous conversations about what this move would mean for our family and also for theirs.

When we first moved to West Virginia there was promise in our hearts to make a difference. We came with the humble intention of growing not only a program, but also the community. There were countless hurdles and challenges that were faced. Battles that were fought (mostly behind the scenes) but ultimately a war that was lost. It is not easy to be a change agent, even having the best interest at heart for the kids and their families. There is an old adage about raising children, that it takes a village, and the same can be said for the job my husband does. It takes a village. The job cannot rest on the shoulders of one individual. We leave knowing that my husband was not able to accomplish the goals he set for himself, however valuable lessons were learned along the way. Lessons, both professional and personal, that we will carry with us on our next chapter.

Every day he has come home this week, I have heard stories of him telling these precious families of our departure. It saddens me, what his leaving means for them. I hope they know that he gave everything he had for them. I hope they know how hard he fought for them. I hope they know that their presence in our lives has made a huge impact. And I hope they know that we will carry them in our hearts for the remainder of our lives. 

Picture Day

Today is picture day. Normally I love picture day. It usually includes picking out a nice shirt for my kids. Making sure their hair is combed and their teeth are shiny and bright. And a small talk from me that they have to keep their clothes clean and tucked in until the photo has been taken. Today however is a different kind of picture day. One that is quite frankly stressing me out. I have spent the last twenty-four hours cleaning, organizing and staging our home for pictures. We have a small window of time to get our home on the market and get it sold before our next great adventure begins. I find the cleaning and organizing easy compared to the task of keeping my little cherubs out of everything and not touch things until the pictures are complete. Now that feels almost impossible. On the bright side, it is almost time for the big production. Then we can resume life in our normal chaotic fashion. Well until we get a showing. 

They say a picture is worth a thousand words however I need these photos to be worth a thousand and one. These will be the photos that will bring people to our home and if we’re lucky, buy it. These photos will be the ones that tell our story of our life here in this house. Will the magnificent fire place draw a buyer in like how it captured my heart the moment I saw it?

Will people see themselves sitting around it having conversations? Or like me, see years of family photos in front of it? Will they wander around and see all of our wonderful Amish furniture that we love so much and replace it with their own in their minds and how it will look in those spots?

Will they move through the rooms with ease and feel right at home? Will they be able to see and feel how much we loved it here and see how they will love it too? I hope so. I hope the pictures today turn out wonderful. I hope they say a thousand and one words. I hope that, once on the internet, they will draw buyers to us. And I hope that picture day will be over soon because if I have to tell my kids to put their toys away one more time…….to be continued 😂

Seasons of Change

I have a million things I need to get done right now but I have something on my heart tonight and felt like now was a good time to put it out there on the world wide web. The seasons are changing. I can feel it. Literally, my arthritis is screaming at me that the temperatures are changing. That, and when I drove my son to school yesterday morning, the fog was settled in the hills and made for a beautiful drive. One that I will miss. A lot. 

Our journey here in West Virginia is nearing an end. At the end of the year we will be relocating to a new area, though not completely unfamiliar. We are headed south, the deep south, Georgia to be exact. It is with mixed emotions that we make this leap. It was not an easy decision, but one that needed to be made. There are many reasons, both professional and personal, that surrounded this move but ultimately it is the right thing to do for our family and for my husband’s job. Over the next few months I will share our journey as we transition and continue to balance life on the edge of the scalpel…..