Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month: A Mother's Story

When you look at the statistics of pregnancy and infant loss it can be surprising. Most people do not know that 1 in 4 women will experience pregnancy and/or infant loss in their childbearing years. I know that until I experienced it I was unaware of the statistics. The reason why most people don't know is because it is a sensitive subject that often is not talked about, or at least it wasn't until recent years. Due to the lack of discussion a lot of families feel alone in their grief. I know I did.
In November of 2012 I experienced my first pregnancy loss. I had, I thought, made it safely into my second trimester and so we decided to announce the news of a new addition to our families. We were so excited to have a new addition and news quickly spread. Not too long after that I had experienced a little spotting and thankfully was scheduled for my next appointment the following day. My husband normally didn't make it to appointments because of his schedule but said if his surgery case finished early he would drive over for it. As soon as I went to check in I notified the front desk that I did have some spotting the night before but hadn't had any since. They notified the doctor and she requested that they take me back to preform an ultrasound before my appointment. The ultrasound tech called me to the back and we began the scan. I requested that she turn the screen so I could see as well, and she reluctantly did so. As she placed the wand on my belly my eyes were already on the screen and I watched as she found the baby's heart and silent tears began to fill my eyes as I lay there alone looking at my precious little one laying so still with it's little heart just as quiet. The tech grabbed my hand because she knew that I knew and she started to talk but I didn't hear a word she was saying. The questions began in my head. The baby was fine on the last ultrasound, how did this happen? Why is this happening to me? What's next? The tech was gracious enough to let me sit in the ultrasound room until my husband arrived. As soon as he did I didn't even have to tell him as he saw my red tear stained face and hugged me and said it will be ok. We went next for my appointment. Because I was starting to get a low grade fever the doctor was concerned that I shouldn't wait too for my body to do things naturally but because I had eaten that day I wasn't able to get booked on her afternoon surgery schedule. And so she sent me home and I was scheduled for two days later. Those two days were some very emotionally difficult days. The next day I woke up in normal form of morning sickness with a quick run to the bathroom. As I sat there on the floor thoughts of why kept circling my brain. I decided we needed to get out of the house, so my son and I went to Target. As we were getting in the check out line the lady in front of me was giddy with excitement about the upcoming birth of her baby as she was buying some last minute items. I stood there, still pregnant myself, with my baby that was no longer alive and it became too much. I moved lines, quickly paid for our items and back home we went. Why were these constant reminders still there of me being pregnant when my baby would never get to come home with me? Those two days were two of the longest days of my life.
After my surgery I had to return to work after a week off. I thought I would be ok, however, working in the maternal child area of the hospital proved to be a struggle as well. Constantly surrounded by babies, mother's having babies, and taking care of them proved to be a difficult reminder of what I had just gone through.
We lost another baby in April of 2013 right before we moved to Seattle. Again I had to have another surgery. The grief and the darkness were very difficult. I found myself not wanting to talk to people, withdrawing more more. It was a very challenging time in my life. I had to move on, push forward for our son and our family but there were the days when my heart felt heavy.
We decided we were ready to try again and we were blessed with our daughter in November 2014. Every single day of that pregnancy it was in the back of my mind, would this one survive,  would we get to bring this baby home, will our son finally getting the sibling he so desperately asked for? Finally she arrived and it was the second best day of my life.
We lost one more baby in February of this year. It was a very different experience. Since we lived so close to my family at that time, my mom left work early the day I found out our little one's heart had stopped beating and though I had already miscarried the baby by the time she got to our apartment nothing felt better than a hug from her. It was a hard thing to deal with being home by myself with our two kids but the beautiful thing about that was that I did in fact still have them.
People say funny things when they find out you are miscarrying. Trying to be supportive and find something to say they pick words that unfortunately can still be hurtful. It used to make me so sad when after our first pregnancy loss someone would say well at least you have your son be thankful for that. As if I was in fact not aware how blessed I was to have him. I would get angry because it was as if the baby I carried for four months didn't matter. Another difficult thing is being pregnant with people at the same time and losing your baby. I was pregnant with one of my oldest friends one time with just a week separating our due dates. Two days after I lost my baby she had texted that she had her appointment and baby had a good strong heart beat and was doing well. I was so happy for her but a part of me felt like I had been stabbed in the heart. It's never easy being the one who loses the baby. It has made me more sensitive about sharing my own pregnancies when they are successful because I know what it's like to be on the other end.
I did a lot better after the third baby we lost. I clung to my faith and my family leaning on both for support. I know that though we cannot always understand the things that happen to us and the trials we face in this life, there is a bigger plan. I still think about those babies we lost. I remember the exact day I found out each of them had died and their due dates. Those dates pass every year and though no one else remembers, I do. I say a quiet prayer for them and keep them in my heart. They were real. They existed. They are a part of my story. And they always will be.

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month: The Nurse's Story

To start this post I think it is important to go back in time to when I was in nursing school. Most of my fellow classmates could attest to the fact that Labor and Delivery was not a place where I wanted to do a rotation. I worked very hard to stay out of that area much to my instructors dismay. On my very last day of  my clinicals I was in the crazy circumstance of delivering a baby by myself in the bathroom (that is a whole other post in itself)! Of course that just solidified that I was NEVER going to EVER set foot in a Labor and Delivery Unit AGAIN!
Fast forward to my first job as a new grad nurse. The hospital that I was to work at didn't have any internships available in any of my desired units (E.R., ICU, or Cardiac Unit) but as luck would have it (well not my luck anyway) they did have an internship in Labor and Delivery. My initial thought was you must be kidding me?! Actually I don't think it was a thought I believe I actually spoke those words out loud to the HR person. And so I began my journey in Labor and Delivery, always telling myself it was temporary until a position opened up in another department. I finished my 9 months of internship successfully (with some VERY interesting stories) and was released by my preceptor to be on my own. Three months later I experienced one of the worst days I had ever had up until that point.
I will never forget that day. We had just changed shifts and the first patient to come up from E.R. was a 21 week pregnant woman with fever of 103 and cramping. I was up for the first admission. After labs were sent, IV was started, formal ultrasound was done and monitoring was taking place it was resulted that the woman was suffering a severe case chorioamnionitis and delivery was imminent. Without getting into the details of that day the woman and I bonded over my 12 hour shift. She was close to delivering when it was getting close to the end of my shift and I could not leave her to go through this situation after I had spent all day talking and consoling her with the impending outcome of her situation. And so I stayed. NICU personnel was present for the delivery on the small hope this baby would be big enough to save but sadly it was not. The doctor wrapped the baby in a blanket and presented it to it's mother and then had to leave for an emergency cesarean. And so I sat and held this mother while she held her baby whispering loving words while silent tears ran down her face and my own. After the baby had passed and when she was ready, I took the baby to take pictures for her, make a footprint sheet and make her one of our memory boxes that we present mothers who have delivered stillborns. It was excruciating. She hugged me for a long time and then it was time to move her to another floor. After having been at the hospital 18 hours I drove home and on the way I called my mom. She listened while I cried. I cried for that poor mother, I cried for the baby and I cried at the cruelty of the situation.
My very last stillborn case was close to the end of my time in Labor and Delivery. It was a woman who had come in that night for an induction of labor being full term and meeting the criteria for induction. As with every mom who comes in I immediately started to attach our contraction monitor and fetal heart rate monitor. As I was searching for a heart beat the seconds turned into minutes. She looked at me and said he likes to hide sometimes and smiled but my heart began to sink. I asked another nurse to try and find heart tones while I called the doctor who ordered a STAT ultrasound. The tech arrived to do the scan and as she was looking the doctor came in the room. The three of us were studying the ultrasound monitor screen as the tech was searching. You could watch the happiness leaving the woman's face as she looked to all of us hoping to see some reassurance. When the doctor had to tell her the baby no longer had a heart beat, the happiest day of this woman's life suddenly became one of the worst.  The crying and pleading with questions of "why" were haunting. It was a horribly heart breaking situation.
In my years as being a Labor and Delivery nurse I had no words for people who would talk about how wonderful it was to work in such a lovely department and never have to experience the kinds of events other nurses did on the other floors and areas in the hospital. And I would just smile but I had no response because working in L&D was such an emotionally taxing area to work in. We either had the best days or we had the worst days. I remember every single mother I took care of who experienced loss. I grieved for them and with them as any person would but it wasn't until I got a small glimpse at what they were going through that I understood the heart break that kind of loss could cause. Seven years later I would experience my first pregnancy loss and go down that dark path of grief as a mother.......

To Be Continued

October Awareness

When most people talk or think about awareness in the month of October the subject that is usually at the forefront of peoples minds is Breast Cancer Awareness. There have been amazing strides in medicine with breast cancer research, treatments, testing, etc. Most people at least know one person who has been affected by breast cancer. I know several strong and beautiful women who have had the misfortune of fighting that battle. As much as I could write a whole blog about Breast Cancer Awareness this post is not intended for that. This post is dedicated to those affected by infant and pregnancy loss.
On October 25, 1988 United States President Ronald Reagan designated the entire month of October as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month. October 15 Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day campaign began in 2002.  By 2016 all 50 American states have yearly proclamations. The significance of this date is to recognize and raise awareness for families who have suffered bereavement due to pregnancy and/or infant loss and to offer resources, information and support. (Wikipedia, 2016)
President Reagan stated "When a child loses his parents, they are called an orphan. When a spouse loses her or his partner, they are called a widow or widower. When parents lose their child, there isn't a word to describe them. This month recognizes the loss so many parents experience across the United States and around the world. It is also meant to inform and provide resources for parents who have lost children due to miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, molar pregnancy, stillbirths, birth defects, SIDS, and other causes."
This is a subject that until recent years was not often talked about publicly. Families suffered their losses silently. People feel uncomfortable talking to someone going through this emotional time because what can one say? I have become more vocal in the last few years of my experiences. Sometimes it makes people uncomfortable to discuss but you never know who your words can reach and provide comfort to when they are silently going through their own loss. And so as a previous Labor and Delivery nurse and a woman who has suffered three miscarriages herself I will dedicate the rest of my posts in the month of October to opening the conversation of this sensitive subject. Some of my stories may be difficult for some to read but if I can help just one person not feel alone and to help raise awareness about this sensitive subject then my posts have done their job

To Be Continued.........

 On October 15th at 7pm people are invited to help raise awareness by lighting a candle. Whether you have been through this situation, know someone who has or just want to help raise awareness I invite you to light a candle for all of those babies who are no longer with us. Thank You.

For more information please go to WWW.NOWILAYMEDOWNTOSLEEP.ORG

Life's Moments

We tend to measure life in moments and/or milestones. Times in our lives that are remembered because of moments when our lives feel so full; full of love, full of sorrow, full of happiness, full of loss. One of these moments in my life was five years ago today, October 6th 2011 at 6:46 a.m. when I became a mother.
I will never forget the time leading up to that day. More than a week past my due date I was ready to go into labor at any moment. On October 5th I went to my friend Michelle's house because we were both off that day and we were going to binge watch some episodes of our favorite paranormal show while eating some delicious pasta salad from Whole Foods (if you ever have a chance to try smoked mozzarella pasta salad do it!). That afternoon I had a doctor's appointment to check on things so we paused our show and I left Michelle's house saying, "I'll be back in about an hour" not realizing that would not be the case.
I went in for my appointment and due to some issues my doctor said "well let's send you in to the hospital for an induction." Wait, what did you just say?! Totally unprepared to hear those words, I called my husband who had just finished up a surgery case and informed him I was being sent to the hospital for induction. After calling our families, my next phone call was to my friend letting her know I would in fact not be back to finish our show.
After being admitted to the hospital and getting everything taken care of we got started that night on the medication to induce labor. Luckily for me one of my old friends/coworkers from Labor and Delivery had moved hospitals and was my nurse that night. And I was more than thankful for that familiar face! I tried to tough it out as long as I could before I got my epidural. Around midnight I was too exhausted and hurting too much with the intentness of the contractions that I was ready for some relief. I called for Jennifer and woke my husband, who was sleeping so peacefully on the pull out couch in my room (more on that in a minute!) and got things started so I could get that much needed relief.
After that it was smooth sailing. My husband, who had put in a long day of surgery and would have to go back in the morning for a big surgery case he had scheduled, went and laid back down while I laid there in the dark watching the monitor with my contractions and fetal heart rate waiting for the moment I would be told it was time to begin. 
After pushing for about thirty minutes the baby (at this point we didn't know the gender of our baby) was having some distress. I will never forget the moment the doctor told the my friend, the nurse, to go get his forceps because if I couldn't push the baby out in the next three pushes he was going to pull it out. You want to talk about adrenaline rush! Though I trusted my doctor completely I was not about to have him deliver my baby with forceps. And so I pushed with everything I had. And then it was over.
I heard that little cry and the very next thing I heard is "you guys have a little boy" and he held him up for us to see and I became flooded with emotions.
When they say something is indescribable that is truly how I felt in that moment when I became a mother. I was exhilarated, exhausted, in love, surprised (we don't find out genders of our little's before delivery) and completely afraid; every single emotion one can feel I felt in those few seconds upon seeing his beautiful little face. The first moment I got to hold him I just stared at him. I was a mother. He was my son. No amount of words can fill in that moment and then he opened his little eyes and stared right back at me. All I could do was smile, and said "Hi I am your mommy."
I relive that moment every year on this day. It is something I cherish with every ounce of my being. He is such a wonderful little boy. Full of life and happiness just like the meaning of his name. And he has given me more life, love and happiness in his five years than I could have ever imagined was possible.

Independence

I have always driven since the moment I got my learner's permit at the age of 15. It was just something every kid I knew did, like a right of passage of sorts. I didn't realize at the time how priceless it truly was to have the freedom of driving. That is until we moved to Seattle three years ago.
When we moved to Seattle we had to down size to one car. Due to the cost of living there and living on one paycheck it was not feasible for us to be able to afford two cars and all the expenses that go along with it. It was agreed that my husband needed the car more than my son and I. He had to be to work by 5a.m. and often did not get home until 9p.m. at the earliest. A lot of people asked, could he not take the bus? Or a taxi? Or walk? We weighed all of those options but none of them worked out. Due to his hours and his need to get to the hospital in emergencies it was not practical for him to take a bus or taxi. He could very well walk the three miles to work but I didn't want him walking home in those late hours of the night or early hours in the morning in the sketchy neighborhoods he would've had to walk through to get to work and then back home. And so my son and I had to find things to do that were within walking distance to our apartment. If we needed groceries it was a 20 block walk round trip, and we did it a lot. Thankfully there were three parks within a mile in opposite directions to our apartment. We made it work but it was still difficult. One thing I regret was not taking the bus. As I look back on those years I think we could've explored more on our own had I taken the bus with the kids. There were times we would have to get up at 4a.m. to take him to work so we could have the car for doctors appointments and other necessary things but then I would also have to wake our kids up to go get him at all hours of the night when he was done for the day.
It did get a little better our third year there when he was doing his Congenital fellowship. He didn't have to be to work quite as early so it was more practical and easier to get the car during that year. I didn't realize the independence and convenience one loses when they do not have the ability to drive places. It was a real struggle for me to lose that aspect in life. When we moved to West Virginia there were a few weeks when we still had one car but we were so busy with tasks at the new house that it wasn't an issue. Also my husband hadn't started work in that time either. We now fill our two-car garage though and I will not hesitate to say I LOVE having a car again. To all of my environmental friends don't worry the kids and I don't drive around aimlessly but we do like getting out and about most days. I have come to appreciate the privilege and independence having a car permits.
 The struggles that were endured during the years of residency help to keep things in perspective for us and make us appreciate the things we have. And those struggles make us better people for it.   

A Little Piece of Magic

In my younger years when talking about my hopes and dreams with friends among their list was always have a family. To be honest that was one area in life I was uncertain about. Not entirely sure I was mother material; it was definitely not something in the forefront of my mind. Many years later, that makes me sound old, I met and married my husband. After a year we decided to try for a family. 

When we had our son on that first day all I could do was look at his beautiful little face as he starred at me with eyes of wonderment. So many things went through my mind in those first few hours. Would I be a good mother? What kind of life would he live and lead? How do I raise him and guide him to be the best version of himself while at the same time giving him his freedom to find himself in life on his own terms? How can I keep him safe in this changing world where threats are everywhere of every kind?

In his short four years, almost five, of his life I have found myself looking at life through his eyes. I love to watch him experience new things. The innocence of childhood so pure and unaffected by the large world that surrounds him. It helps keep me grounded when we have our little talks about life. I love his very big imagination and the way he views things in life. I remember the night shortly after we moved to West Virginia when we showed him fireflies "lightening bugs" for the first time. That will forever be a memory I cherish in my heart. The simple amazement and joy on his face. When we explained to him what they were he said it was "magical." And I must admit I felt the same. 
Last night the kids requested to have campout in the basement. A favorite weekend tradition of ours of pulling out the sleeping bags and sleeping on the floor, reading stories, playing games, or watching movies. Last night while I was trying to get our daughter to sleep I kept noticing a blinking glowing light by the door that goes outside. My first thought was is someone secretly recording us?! I watched it for several minutes and a moment later a firefly outside went past our basement window. And then it dawned on me; I bet we have a firefly stuck in our house. She noticed it as well and asked what it was. I told her I thought it might be a firefly. She went to sleep shortly after at which time I went upstairs to get my husband so we could catch it. The poor little thing had in fact gotten stuck in the doorframe but his glowing light was a beacon that directed us right to him. After we caught him in the jar we took him upstairs to show our son who was waiting for bed. He could not believe what he was seeing. He just watched it for the longest time. At that moment I was certain that when he had seen the magical glowing orbs in the backyard two months ago, stories of glowing bugs was something he thought only his imagination would conjure up.
I wish I could keep our children small forever. I wish I could protect them from the negative things in this world but I can't. I fall short often, daily even, of "Mother of The Year" but I do my best to try and give them the kind of childhood that will give them life long memories of happiness. And so when they go out into this big world they will have these little pieces of magic to take with them.

Visitors

We had our first visitors this week! My parents came out from Washington for a few days over the holiday weekend. We got to the airport a little early so we hung around the baggage claim area. When we saw them the excitement from our kids was heard throughout the airport. They both yelled "Grammy! Bunka!" and went running for them. It was a priceless moment I wish I could've captured on video. As always the visit didn't feel long enough but we packed a few things into our days.
We took them to a local minor league baseball game, hit up the local doughnut shop, and did a little school clothes shopping. Thanks to my awesome step dad we were able to get some electrical stuff figured out around here. It's very handy to know an electrician, especially one who takes payments in hot fresh doughnuts! Unfortunately the kids got sick during their stay but it didn't slow them down any. Our son got to work on some sports stuff which his Bunka specializes in. We like to refer to it as Bunka Bootcamp. Afternoons spent running and playing football and basketball were some of the highlights, as well as getting to help Bunka with some projects around the house.
My mom was able to lend me some decorating help and put together my front porch fall decorations for me as my house warming gift. I can't wait for her to come back and give me some more advice and help because I am lacking in that department. After a fun-filled three days with them we had to say goodbye and take them back to the airport. As always it was hard to say goodbye. In the car on the way home our son asked three times when they would return. After our daughter woke from her nap she went upstairs to look in the room they had slept in calling out for them as if they were playing hide-and-go-seek with her. To her disappointment they never came out and I had to remind her we had dropped them to the airport that morning. We look forward to more visits from them and hopefully others soon!

DIY

I hadn't realized that it had been nearly three weeks since my last post! Time just got away from me. We bought our first house when we moved here. A beautiful home that almost reduced me to tears with the thought that once the ink had dried it would belong to us. At the time we didn't realize the amount of stuff that would need to be done to the house. Some stuff needed to be done immediately while other things we will work on over time. All of these projects we have taken on in here have used up my otherwise limited down time and so I have neglected my computer and my blog.
It is definitely different being a homeowner. It is an awesome feeling to be able to have your own home. When we lived in our apartments I dreamed of the day our children would have a yard they could run around in as opposed to the 1-2 hours a day we would spend at the park every day. The park was great, they could run and play and exhaust some of their energy but to have the freedom to go outside as you please is truly a blessing.
There is also a lot of responsibility that goes along with owning your own home too. At first it was overwhelming with the thought of the things that we needed to do but the silver lining is we get to put our own touches in here and make it our own home. My husband commented recently that by the time we are finished with our big projects it will be like a brand new house. I actually enjoy these projects. I suppose though there will always be projects coming up. Sometimes little things you are wanting to change or unfortunate big unexpected projects like the ones we experienced once we got moved in but that is just part of life and being a homeowner. I hope to one day get back to my limited crafty ways and do some DIY projects that are maybe a little more fun than patching and painting an entire bedroom and bathroom but all in good time. Besides we have to get these big projects done before my productivity level decreases some in December! :)

Back To The Grind

Well it was a good run here in our house. My husband had just about a month off in between completing his fellowship and starting his first job. Despite having to work on some papers he's writing and doing some reading it afforded him quality time with the kids. It took some adjustment having daddy at home. Between a lot of traveling and his presence our daily routine got a little shaken up. Nap times got missed, cookies were given for breakfast and my dress got shrunk in his attempt to help me switch out the laundry one day. All in all though it was nice to see the kids have that time with him. I would watch them play and listen to their laughter worrying in the back of my mind what would happen when he went back to work. Fortunately the first two weeks were mostly orientation types of days where even if they didn't get to see him in the morning he would usually make it home for dinner. This last week however he started back operating and though I was hoping his absence wouldn't be too hard to transition back to, his presence was definitely missed. During the day at random intervals the kids would ask when he would be coming home. A knock on the door by the UPS man would elicit yells for daddy and running to the door only to be disappointed it was just a box. And then two nights ago while finishing up dinner our son tells me he doesn't think he wants to be a surgeon like daddy. I asked him why, to which he responded, "you would be so lonely if we are both gone and then you would only have my sister to eat dinner with." Though I appreciate his thoughtful and loving heart it reminds me that he is getting older now and is more perceptive about his surroundings and the day to day life and events that transpire. Thankfully though I believe they will have more time on the weekends with him as the demand on his time will not be quite like the last few years.
I do know that though he misses the kids he is glad to be back helping those that need his help. He comes in to his new position with a lot of pressure from different directions but he knows that one pressure he doesn't have to worry about is pressure from home. We are getting our routine back in order and the kids absolutely love this new area and we enjoy exploring it!

Back to three seats at the dinner table

Home

I once read a quote that said, "home is not a place, it is a feeling." I have lived in many places in my life and I feel confident in saying this could not be truer. A few weeks ago we moved to a lovely town in West Virginia. Ironically known for the actor Don Knotts, it feels very Mayberry-ish to me here. Although significantly larger than that storybook town, the people are friendly and it maintains that small town feel, where neighbors help neighbors and everyone knows everyone. In my previous post I wrote about how at first when my husband accepted the job here I was nervous with the ideas conjured up in my head of what life in West Virginia would be like. Life here has proven to be peaceful and serene.
It took us a month to get our things here. 

It took a week but we got all of our boxes unpacked!

 After a big fiasco with the moving company, that I assure you we will not use EVER again, a truck driver who to the colorful language of my uncle and father obviously did not know how to actually DRIVE his truck, except on the straight interstate. Things brought to us broken, crushed up and/or missing we survived. And to be honest I was ok here. As soon as we got here it felt like home to me. It is a hard feeling to explain to someone that doesn't understand that 'home' doesn't have to be a place but a feeling. Yes, we are both miles from our family, our comfort zone, but we don't feel unease about it. 
My mom once told me she knew I would likely never live where I grew up because I had a gypsy soul and I find that in my years, in my many moves I have always found 'home' everywhere I have been. I have been able to make a life despite the locations or distance from anyone I knew. I have been able to pack up my small amount of possessions and find adventure and life everywhere I went. I of course will always have my hometown. The place I was born and raised. The place where the foundation of my life was set. The place I know I can always return to if or when I need to but every piece of my 'home' I have found in my travels and living in different locations. It is comprised of the people I surround myself with, the beauty of the scenery around me, watching my children's happy faces as they run and explore, where my heart feels full and life is satisfying.

The Road Home

I grew up in the beautiful surroundings of the Pacific Northwest (PNW). When I was a young girl, having just finished nursing school, I moved to the south. One of the first things someone would ask me, upon meeting me, was how could I have left such a beautiful place. Like anyone who grows up around something day in and day out, I became accustomed to it and often took it for granted. Yes I hiked, camped and spent countless hours outdoors but it wasn't until I left Washington that I grew to truly appreciate the beauty of that area of the country. I believe that anyone can find fault and flaws in places but every place has something amazing to offer. Sometimes you have to look harder than others but if you give a place time and put in the effort you will find a diamond in the rough.

That being said when my husband was interviewing for jobs I was unable to attend because our daughter, as previously mentioned, does not do well traveling and that was a battle I did not want to take on. When he was offered a job in West Virginia I was a little nervous at first with the pictures my mind conjured up about what this place would look like. I, of course, started scouring the internet but am always a little skeptical about what you find on the there. But I love a good adventure and I had faith that he wouldn't take us to a place that did not suit our family. As we pulled out of his parents driveway in Georgia saying our goodbyes I was so excited for the unknown, not really sure what to expect. I had texted my uncle to let him know we were leaving and explaining my curiosity to what I would see along the way and of course quoting "Country Road." He insisted I would be pleasantly surprised and reminded me that there were numerous songs written about that area of the country.

We crossed into eastern Tennessee and the smoky mountain, continuing our drive through the state of Virginia and into West Virginia. To say I was amazed, awestruck or even captivated does not come close to how I felt driving through this area. It was like I was still back home in my beloved PNW. I could not believe the majesty and beauty of this area. When I lived in Memphis I of course always missed my family but I also missed the PNW. Driving through these areas and having lived here now for two weeks I can say I will always miss my family but I still feel like I am home here. John Denver couldn't have described it better than the very first line of his song "Almost Heaven, West Virginia..." I wish I could describe it to someone or a professional photographer so I could capture the pristine landscape of this area. The lush green rolling hills, the misty sunny mornings, even the storms we have encountered are something that makes you feel serene. And let me not forget the magic of the fireflies or lightening bugs that captured the amazement of our son.
I cannot wait for our road trips and exploring this land. I already have quite a few places on my list to visit and it will only continue to grow!

(Just a few pictures on the road to our new home)

Getting Settled

On Thursday the 14th we drove 11 hours from my in-laws' home in Georgia to our new hometown in West Virginia. I have so much to say about our drive and the beauty of this region but I will save that for my next post. We weren't sure how the drive would go, as our daughter is not the best traveler by car or plane, but we were pleasantly surprised. We stopped four times along the way for bathroom breaks and leg stretches and made it safely in to town that evening.
The next day we closed on our very first home (more on that later) and were getting our few possessions that drove up with us settled in. Our stuff from Seattle was scheduled to arrive originally on the the 15th. However, on the 13th the representative from the moving truck company contacted us to notify us it would actually be the 18th. We were fine with that because that would give us time to figure out a few things in the area and clean up around the house before our stuff arrived. On the 15th, two days after the first phone call, the representative notified us that in fact our stuff would actually not arrive until the 26th to the 28th! They informed us that our belongings had actually not even left Seattle yet and was scheduled to depart Tuesday the 19th.
So for the last week and a half we have been camping out in our new home. We are not strangers to doing camp outs with our kids inside the home, as it was actually one of their favorite things to do in our apartment in Seattle however it has been a bit challenging at times. Thank goodness for the kindness of my mother-in-law who cooked us some food and froze it for us before we left Georgia, so that we would only have to warm it in the microwave. After a few days though we realized it would be beneficial to at least buy a pan and cookie sheet so we could make some eggs for breakfast and cook things in the oven.
We purposely sent our stuff two weeks before we were scheduled to arrive here to allow the 7-10 days of travel time as they had told us. We could've really been upset about  the delay but there is no point. We cannot change the circumstances and we are truly blessed to have what we do have. So this is just another part of our new adventure. As I sit here typing this post on the fire place hearth, our only place to sit in the house, I am thankful for these opportunities. It has given us a chance to fully enjoy the things we do have and our new surroundings. Every meal is spent eating outside on our newly purchased plastic outdoor furniture, using our Coleman cooler as a universal table to place our food. Our nights are spent sleeping on the floor in sleeping bags and our food is ate on paper plates with plastic utensils. We hope that our stuff arrives this week as promised but I can't deny that even this little road bump is a fun and memorable part of our adventure.

Our son enjoying his breakfast on a beautiful W. Va sunny morning

Road Trip

On the eve of our road trip to West Virginia I am reminded of the same feeling three years ago when we were packing up to head out west to Washington. We will be driving from Georgia to West Virginia tomorrow and though the mileage is significantly less it will be a fun adventure non the less. In an era where faster is better and the convenience of flying gives us extra time to spend in places, it is also nice to take the time to drive around the country.

When we drove from Memphis to Seattle, we did it in four days. In retrospect, we wish we had the time to spend at more places along the way but we were still able to absorb the beauty of our surroundings. The vast landscapes in Iowa, beautiful mountains in Utah, Wyoming's rock formations and wild horses (to our delight). Water cascading down rocky hillsides and amazing mountain scenery as we drove up the Oregon coast.

This time, our travels will take us through eastern Tennessee and on through the Appalachian mountains to our new home in Morgantown, WV.

I look forward to this trip.

As nice as it is to fly, I will admit I much prefer driving. There is no other way you can appreciate God's beauty in creating this stunning landscape than driving.  

In My Abscence

I'm back. The last month has gone by so quickly and so many things have gone on in the world of my little family. The third week of June my husband was gone to a conference and so I took the opportunity to take our little ones to visit my family for five days. They had a wonderful time and I was glad they were able to have that time with them as we likely won't be back for a visit until next summer. We also drove up to Canada for a day to say goodbye to my husband's Aunt and Uncle and their family in B.C. I will miss them as much as I will miss my own family. I have enjoyed our visits up there over the last few years and watching my kids play with their cousins.

The following week was a whirlwind of sorting and packing so we were ready for the movers to come pick up our stuff to ship to our new home. When we left Memphis for Seattle three years ago we arrived like modern day pioneers.

Everything we owned fit in our Pilot and the U-Haul trailer. Which we drove nearly 2,500 miles in three days. This time around our stuff will be meeting us upon our arrival. Thank goodness!

Our things were picked up on Thursday afternoon and we drove down to my hometown so that Saturday morning my parents could drop us at the airport to fly to Georgia to visit my husbands parents and siblings. We have not been able to make it out to see them in over a year due to his schedule so they were happy to have the time with us.

We have spent the week here enjoying family time and the holiday. My husband and I have spent the week trying to sort out the necessities to transition to our new home shortly and prepare for our drive from Georgia to West Virginia. We thought about flying initially but we do love a good road trip! So that should catch us up briefly in what's been going on in our world presently. Looking forward to writing about our new adventure!

(While we are excited about all of the new things in our life, we are deeply saddened by the horrific week of destruction of human lives and loss of all qualities that characterize our humanity in our country and in the entire world. Like so many others, we pray for peace, tolerance and understanding.)

Sunday Morning

I woke up Sunday morning in usual fashion. While waiting for my slumbering little people to wake up, wondering about breakfast, I laid in bed reading the news. Normally on Sunday mornings I read the news and then I get up and write on my blog. As soon as my eyes rested on an article about what had happened in Orlando I thought to myself anything about our lives I have to write today does not matter. So I rested the computer and took an extra moment in my daily morning prayers to pray for the victims of this senseless tragedy. It has taken me a few days to digest the gravity of that situation. And the more I thought about it the more I realized I do have something to say about it.

We are a family of faith. Our faith resonates in everything we do, and especially to how we treat other people. We teach our children love and tolerance and expect them to treat others with kindness. We do this not only through our words but also through our own actions.

When I saw the name of the of the shooter in this incident my heart froze, not out of fear, but because I knew the backlash of the hateful rhetoric that would soon accompany it.
 I am not a person who speaks openly of politics nor religion. However, on this day I need to take this opportunity to voice my opinion.
It saddens me to see the hateful things that people including leaders and politicians are propagating. Thoughtless comments, that due to ignorance and a lack of understanding, instill fear in others at a time when our beautiful country needs to be showing love and kindness.

One week ago an amazing pioneer (Muhammad Ali) lost his final fight and through his death the teachings of what he believed in was spread throughout the world. In a matter of days it took one xenophobic ignorant person, who does not represent Islam, to completely undo everything that was exemplified last week. For every hateful thing that has been said or written in the wake of this horrific and painful situation I have seen just as many beautiful stories of fellow Muslim-Americans standing in lines in Orlando for hours with the thousands of others, while fasting, to donate blood. Women wearing hijab, also fasting, who were walking down the line to give food and drink to those waiting to give blood. Let us not lose sight of the bigger picture of what we are facing as a nation. Let us not alienate another group of people because someone "claiming" religion committed a heinous tragedy. Let us not contribute to the xenophobia that lead to this crime. Instead let us unite to foster a solution and continue to show love and kindness to everyone irrespective of their race, religion, orientation, country of origin or beliefs.

May we continue to pray for the victims' of those that suffer at the hands of terrorists; their families and for our country as a whole. May God help us as a people to never loose sight of the qualities and inclusivity that has defined our nation.

The Surgeon and The Chef

I know I used this picture in my very first post but I just love it.

I'm sure when you saw the subject on this post you thought, oh a surgeon who moonlights as a chef?! Now my husband can cook a few things (though 99% of the time I am the one cooking the food around here) but he is not a chef.
A few weeks back we had rented a movie called Burnt. I personally liked that movie, though it didn't get great reviews on the tomato meter. Then the following week we ended up watching a documentary on a two Michelin star chef trying to obtain his third star. It was while we were watching these two movies that I began to see a lot of similarities between chefs and surgeons and the environments in which they work and live. During the documentary I told my husband that it looked like the life of a chef was very similar to his. The chef is the responsible party for the entire kitchen and how the food is turned out. Just like the surgeon is the responsible party in the operating room. That being said though, the chef and the surgeon are only as successful as the staff they work with. Each member in the kitchen plays an integral role in the success of the restaurant. From the cooking line down to the dish washer and garbage remover. Like wise the operating room is only successful with the competence and diligence of the anesthesia personal, nurses, techs all the way through to environmental services.
The hours of the chef are like the hours of the surgeon. The chef in the documentary was putting in 12-16 hour days, EVERY day. The surgeons hours very similar.
The chef was discussing how it took a toll on his family. His commitment to his work brought struggles to his marriage and ultimately led to an unfortunate dissolution of it. When we first moved for my husbands fellowship it was a pretty big struggle. I remember in the first few months calling a friend of mine whose husband was now an attending to talk about what was going on. She told me that fellowship put a huge strain on their marriage but if you can weather that you can weather just about anything. The hours are ridiculous. The commitment is hard to understand sometimes. But in order to move to the next level it must be done.
The training of a chef also appears to be very similar to the surgeon. The demanding mentors, the pressure to not mess up, the occasional hazing. All difficult to navigate but ultimately the process by which they make sure you are good enough to make the cut.   
The chef discussed personal sacrifice. Time with his children. Time with his friends. Time for himself. I have seen this first hand in the surgeons life as well. People have commented to me about how my husbands hours may get better once he is done with training, to which I respond "have you met my husband?" All joking aside though there is a personality characteristic to these driven career choices. There is no clocking out at the end of the day or shift. Work is always in the forefront of their mind. Always pushing to the next level of achievement. Not taking no for an answer. It is something to be admired but also something that causes difficulty in their life and the lives of those around them. I have a whole different perspective now watching that documentary of the chef's life and I can't help but wonder what further damage my waistline would've seen had my husband pursued a career as a driven chef instead of a surgeon. At the end of the day though I must admit I am pretty proud that his "cutting" skills help to add longevity and quality to some little child's life, instead of adding to my waistline.

To Remember

As luck would have it my husband was actually off Sunday. I wasn't confident this would happen as they recently had a few babies born that will require surgical care. And also because he was scheduled for Saturday and Monday of a holiday weekend which normally translates to him being asked to cover Sunday as well. Because he was off yesterday we decided to drive down to the lake to see the family for the day. They were all there to share Memorial Day weekend together.
As we drove home late last night I thought about what Memorial Day means to me. When I was younger I used to attend Memorial Day services at a local cemetery. They would often give a beautiful speech and then call out the names of those placed to rest there and their branch of service. No Memorial Day service touched me as much as the service I attended at the cemetery my grandpa is buried in. He was laid to rest in one of the national cemeteries in Oregon. Perhaps it was because it had only been a year since his passing but to see an entire cemetery covered in American flags at every head stone brings chills to ones arms. Or at least it did mine.
My grandpa was the type of man that could make a friend from a foe. He was quite the comedian and yet had a very serious side as well. He used to tell some of the best stories. I loved to sit around and listen to them knowing full well they likely were at least partially exaggerated. He was the type of person who could give you life advice that you knew was genuine, honest and impartial. He retired as Chief Petty Officer in the Navy with 20+ years of service in the CB's (also referred to as the SeaBees). In those years he received many awards and excellent evaluations. His highest honor was receiving the Bronze Star with a combat "V" for valor while in Korea (for those unfamiliar with the Bronze Star it is awarded to those for either heroic achievement, heroic service, meritorious achievement, or meritorious service in a combat zone). He liked to occasionally throw in from time to time that despite all of those years since retirement, he could still always fit in his dress uniform. To which he was actually laid to rest in so many decades later. My grandpa was not killed in action, however, his non-Hodgkin lymphoma was suggested to have been caused by his direct exposure to agent orange during the Vietnam war.

And so this Memorial Day I honor his memory. He will always be one of my heroes. Besides his many years of service to our nation, he was an amazing human being.

The Job

15 years. 15 years this job has been in the making. 15 years of medical school, residencies, and fellowship. This has not been an easy road. It has been an emotional, physically and mentally tough process. But it has also had great rewards. All of those years were enriched by our families, his professors, mentors, attendings, hospital staff, patients, and the countless other people that have crossed his path. And let us not forget he met me in those years! He has been trained by some of the finest in their respective fields. Every single person who has crossed his path has gotten him to this point. And so in a little over a month we will be moving to our new place for his very first job! A job that is not afforded to many new pediatric cardiac surgeons so soon out of training. An opportunity for him to further enhance an already existing program. And so we are West Virginia bound! You will be hearing us cheering for our new "family" the Mountaineers.

So many new adventures for our little growing family ... I can't wait to see what lays ahead for us.

A Diagnosis

One of the many and hardest challenges of parenting is watching, taking care of your sick children. Their helpless eyes look at you behind heavy lids wanting you, begging you, to help them feel better. As a parent, you so desperately want to take away their pain and ease their discomfort. However many times all you can do is hold them, cuddle them and wipe their brow. We have been blessed that we have not had to deal with severe childhood illnesses or diseases but minor infections like common colds and bacterial infections. Besides regular well child check-ups we have not taken them in to the doctor until last year. Our daughter after a few months of life was deemed allergic to soy and dairy. So food modifications were made and diligent label checks were preformed. Once we had a handle on that, life was smooth sailing again... Until last fall when our son started his first year of preschool.

I knew going in that he would have many more viruses and we would be making more trips to the local pharmacy. And within a matter of days it became true. However starting around October something seemed different. I consulted my favorite physician, who agreed it was time to take him in to the pediatrician. I was sure that his virus had ended but he continued to have a dry cough. And it didn't make sense. He coughed every morning upon waking and every night when he laid down. He would cough when exerting himself but otherwise he would not cough at all during the day. Our nights were the worst. He would cough and cough, unable to catch his breath until he would vomit. At which time he would seemingly have some relief from his cough for a short time. I took these symptoms and events in to his pediatrician again but was just told it was a post-viral cough and those can last 4-6 weeks post viral infection. Frustrated we were sent out with the recommendation to continue to do what we had already been doing to try and alleviate his symptoms. This went on until December when the coughing to vomiting events became more and more frequent. He was sent out that time with instructions to return if symptoms become worse. They said he likely had "reactive airway disease" exacerbated by cold viruses but they just needed to watch and see what happened. Frustrated my husband called him in an inhaler and some Zyrtec in an attempt to make our little guy's nights easier. Normally we go to our doctors for medications but we felt like we were getting nowhere and so we went this route. At his next follow up appointment I informed his doctor that he now had an inhaler and was on Zyrtec. It seemed to decrease the amount of episodes he was having but the cough was still present.

As winter became spring we were certain he had asthma and allergies and continued to ask his doctors who just told me to keep doing what we were doing. Finally back in April we met with his original pediatrician and after discussing the course of events, yet again, asked to get a referral to an asthma and allergist. To which he agreed. Finally! By this point my husband had switched him to Singulair because his allergy symptoms had gotten worse as had his coughing to vomiting episodes.
I took him in on Monday for his first appointment with the asthma and allergy doctor and within a couple of minutes of hearing his symptoms and the events of the last several months she said, "oh this poor guy has definitely been struggling with asthma." He was also tested for allergies that day. His allergy tests came up negative. However, the doctor said he is still young for testing and based off of his symptoms, especially this spring, he likely has environmental allergies. She said when I bring him back for retesting in 1-2 years she would not be surprised to see him test positive for one or two things. She gave him a maintenance inhaler to be used everyday and instructed us to keep his rescue inhaler for emergencies and before any strenuous exercise activity.

After a few days of the new medication and inhaler he has improved markedly. At t-ball practice he was able to run the entire time without having to stop and catch his breath. Nor has he had any coughing problems. It was a long and difficult road. Watching that little guy suffer for the last nearly seven months with respiratory problems was very difficult. Taking him in to the pediatrician every two weeks for all of those months and getting nowhere was beyond frustrating. I'm glad I continued to push for his well being and getting him in to the specialist he needed, I just wish it hadn't taken so long. The doctor said he will likely grow out of the asthma as he gets older. The allergies unknown, as he could likely still have those the duration of his life. At least now we have our diagnosis and can hopefully move on with these treatments and he can be back to his highly energetic self!

The Love For A Mother

Love for a mother changes over the years. When we are small they are our whole world. We love them like no other. The sun rises and sets in their eyes and their presence.
As we start to experience the world growing into our teenage years we love our mothers but we may not always like them. It's not really even them, it's the rules they enforce and the boundaries they set. Life doesn't always seem fair. And since they are generally the enforcers of said rules, they get the brunt of our displeasure.
As we become young adults we appreciate the sacrifices they made for us and love them so much more for it. We understand now that the boundaries and the rules were for our own good, to protect us and keep us safe. We may even feel a little guilty about giving them a difficult time during those years.
As we mature into adulthood our mothers become more our friends, our confidants. Our love for them is one of mutual respect.
If or when we become parents our understanding of unconditional love is achieved. It's one of the most amazing and frightening experiences in your life and at that moment the love for your own mother comes full circle. You understand how they can forgive you after you pushed their buttons as children or their rules as teenagers. You understand the fears of the unknown about raising children and that your own mother was just trying to do the best for you. You love them more for their patience and that no matter what, they still love you because you are their child. I have been blessed in my life to have a mother who has taught me about life. Whenever she was met with adversity in her life she faced it head on and fought to overcome it. She sacrificed and did the best she could for my brother and I. When I look back on my childhood I have such fond memories and can only hope that through my mother's example I can give my own children the safe and loving environment that I was privileged with. To all the mothers, mother-to-be, mother-in-laws, like-a-mother, or anyone else who  took on that role in someone's life I wish you a Happy Mother's Day. And to my own mom I thank you for everything you have done for me and my family. I couldn't ask for a better mother and Grammy to my littles. Happy Mother's Day.

The Lake, The Memories

Before I was born my family purchased property at Lake Mayfield. The work by my aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins and parents early on built the magical sanctuary that is affectionately known as "The Lake." In the early days it was legitimate camping. Tent or truck campers was what were slept in. As time went on those sleeping vessels turned into pull trailers and fifth wheels to now park model "mini homes" with modern amenities, covered by roofs and large decks.
There is also a community gathering place we call the "bull shed." It's a roughly 15'x15' concrete floor with a fire pit in the middle. It has six ten foot posts that hold up the roof that is also equipped with four roll down sides. Back in the early days the bull shed was quiet during daylight hours. The sides remained rolled up, the fire pit waiting to start it's shift. Come sunset though the bull shed became a hot spot. Community dinners were held there, where every family would bring a dish to share with everyone else. After dinner the dishes were done and a fire was lit. The tables would fill up with those wanting to play cards and games like 21 or flying aces. While those not wanting to play would sit around the fire and "shoot the bull" (hence the name). Things would quiet down around midnight and us kids would bring out our cots and sleeping bags and would snuggle down to sleep, making sure that whoever gets up first in the night has to add more wood to the fire. My grandpa was known for waking us in the early morning hours by rolling up the sides and saying "get up, it's time to move out".
Mornings were spent lazily waking up; getting our swim suits on and our food for the day packed up and loaded for a day spent down on the water. We would go down to the family docks in truck loads. Coolers packed with beverages and snacks to last us all day. We would laze on the lake, swimming, boating, skiing, tubing. It was an all day affair.
There is not one summer of my youth that I don't have wonderful memories at the lake. I lived for summer weekends when after my mom would get off work on Friday we would drive there to spend the weekend in our little happy place with our big extended family. The docks have quieted down now. Still frequented by a few of my cousins but the days of all day lake sessions by the whole family is a thing of the past. There are a few of my little cousins who still sleep out in the bull shed but the days of it being packed in with cots sleeping right next to each other have passed as well. Life at the lake tends to be a lot quieter than it used to be, except on Memorial Day weekend, Fourth of July weekend and Labor Day weekend. Those weekends can still be known for late nights, endless card games and fires that go on all weekend.
Over the last three years of us being here my husband has come to enjoy the quiet sanctuary of the lake. It provides him a place to get away from his busy schedule in this hectic city. His last vacation of fellowship was last week and his one request was to get out of the city and go to the lake. His version of vacation wasn't without his computer or work. The days mostly spent studying for his boards in June and writing his paper that will be presented at an annual conference, also in June. But there was time for him to do some fishing by himself and with our son. And also sleeping out in the tent with our son too. I opted for the warmth of a nice sized queen bed in the park model with our daughter. I mean, can you blame me?

Since we will be moving soon our little kiddos will not have the memories at the lake that I had growing up. Though they love to go there now and run all day long, their memories will be selective. Our daughter's most likely non existent. I hope the pictures we have taken over the years will tell them stories of making s'mores with Nana, going on bike rides with G.G., and paling around with their cousins. Our son catching his first fish. Our daughter going for walks with Pappy. Time spent with their Grammy and Bunka, Uncle Justin and Aunt Megan. The weekends when Papa and Grandma Heidi drove up for a visit. Our son's first boat ride with Uncle Mark and Aunt Lisa.
When we return for our vacation visits I hope that we can make it back up there sometimes to make new memories with them. But until then we will look through our pictures and relive these stories.

Mixed Emotions

I was a young girl in my early 20s and had just graduated nursing school. I had just finished interviewing for my first nursing job at the hospital I had worked at for the last four years as a Certified Nursing Assistant. I had verbally accepted the job and was just waiting to sign the official paper work. And then I decided I was going to move. I was filled with exhilaration. Looking back on that time in my life nearly 11 years ago I can safely say I was running. I was running from familiarity. I got on the plane, to my parents dismay and concern, needing to spread my wings and find myself on my own terms. And because of that there was little sadness, mostly excitement. Of course I missed my family but there was something about figuring life out on my own, not in arms reach of anyone I knew or loved, that drove and forced me to be quite independent and self sufficient.

Over the last several months my husband has been interviewing for jobs. They have taken him all over the country, to nearly every corner except the corner of my beloved Pacific Northwest. When he started down this path into this sub-specialty we knew that jobs would be limited and so would limit where we went next. I have enjoyed the last three years of having time with my family, knowing that we would likely be saying good bye again. This time though it is definitely harder. This time I am not leaving on my own terms but rather the job's terms. The prospect of new beginnings is very exciting and saddening. It means this chapter is coming to an end. The weekend visits with the family on a whim will no longer be possible. Summers spent at the lake at the family property will not be something my children will grow up knowing as I did. Our little family of four will make new memories wherever we go and will certainly make the best of our next city but I can't deny that it is weighing on my heart to leave this beautiful state but most importantly my family.

Salty and Sweet

I come from a long line of chip mongers. My grandpa, mom and I can sit around and visit over a bag of chips....or three. We don't discriminate when it comes to the deliciously salty snacks. We love them all. Plain, BBQ, Cheese Doritos and thanks to Lays (and my sister-in-law for introducing them) mom and my new addiction, Dill Pickle! If I'm being perfectly honest it was probably even the first food I ate and my first word (OK not really but you get what I'm saying). For years I didn't keep chips in my house because my will power seems to weaken when I know they are around. But when you throw kids into the equation things change.

When it comes to sweets I can take them or leave them. I enjoy a good piece of dark chocolate every once in a while or a few peanut butter m&ms but really they just sit and collect dust. Well they used to, that is, until I met my husband. I'm fairly confident that if you were to check his DNA you would see a piece of chocolate in there. As long as my family history of chip eaters is, his family history of chocolate eaters may be even longer. I remember the first time I met his late grandmother. I loved her as soon as I met her. She reminded me so much of my grandma-great. Even in her late 80's my husband's grandma could recall every one of her 80+ grandchildren (they have an impressively large family) and their birth dates. Like my grandma-great, I could sit and listen to her recount her many years as she lead a very fascinating life. And her first story she ever told me was when she would sew clothes for the people in her village she would always keep three pieces of chocolate near her, every day, to eat while she sewed. And so it was then that I knew it was definitely genetic.

I'll never forget one day in the ICU one of our Cardiac surgeons brought in a huge box of one of the local, favorite doughnut shop doughnuts. We chided the doctor about a Cardiac surgeon feeding the nurses doughnuts, to which he replied "job security" and then laughed and walked off. It was often a running joke to those that visited us about my husband's "chocolate cupboard." From the time we were married we have had an entire shelf designated for his chocolate stash. Everyone would joke about the future cardiac surgeon with the chocolate cupboard. There were all kinds of chocolate from milk to the darkest of dark chocolates. We had Cadbury (his personal favorite), Lindt, Belgian, Swiss. It was like a world tour of chocolate in our cupboard.

Well they do say chocolate is good for the heart right?

Since we will be moving in three short months our chocolate cupboard, that has come to be loved by all of our visitors, has started to dwindled down a lot. Not to be replaced. Wherever we go next though I am confident that when our visitors come they will be pleasantly surprised to see a well stocked chocolate cupboard again......

Quiet Moments

In the early years of formal residencies physicians would reside in the hospital and that is where the name originated from. Over the course of time that has changed. Although, sometimes it feels like it is still in that era.

It was a huge adjustment for us when we moved for my husbands Cardiothoracic Surgery residency. The biggest adjustment was for our son. Though General Surgery kept my husband very busy he still had one-on-one time with our son. Back then I used to work night shift on the nights he wasn't on call. I would make them dinner and head to work leaving them to their bonding time. When we moved here however he got very little time with his daddy. It took a little while but our son and I found our own routine and enjoyed our days together. It became painfully obvious one day when my husband got called back to the city for a transplant on his weekend off.

We decided to drop him off at the hospital when we got back to town so our son and I could have the car to run some errands. As we pulled up to the hospital my son utters from the back seat, in his quiet little voice "is daddy's visit over now? We have to take him back to his home." My husband looked at me and all I could do was shrug. They say children speak the truth. Their inhibition and honest thoughts come sputtering out of their mouths without a second thought. And so there it was, out on the table. He viewed the hospital as my husbands home because that was where he spent 98% of his time during those two years.

After that little comment we decided we needed to make an effort so that he could still see his daddy some nights, no matter the time. There were days I would give him a late afternoon nap so that he would be awake at 10 or 11 at night when my husband would get home. And then there were the more special nights. Nights when he would be woken up by his daddy's touch and offered ice cream and a late night visit. One night I captured a picture of the two of them sharing this moment together. My husband asked how his day was and he sleepily rambled off our activities. And then he would ask his daddy if he helped anyone that day. To which my husband would tell him how his day was and what he did. I am quite confident that the medical terminology and procedures went right over his little head but he sat there in his daddy's lap and soaked up every single word that he said.

It was in these quiet moments that I realized that it would be OK and, as long as we made the effort life wouldn't be missed by either of them.

March 26, 2012

I've had patients tell me that they saw their life flash before their eyes. I had heard of this happening to other people also but I never understood the phenomenon until March 26, 2012. I was on my way home from the hospital to see my little 5 month old son and relieve his Aunty of duty. I was driving down a very busy and high traffic road traveling at the speed limit (40mph). I was driving through the intersection (my light was green) and then it happened. Because of my speed the accident itself took seconds maybe even less but it felt like at least five minutes.  She plowed into

the passenger rear side of my car. She hit me hard enough to change the direction of my car. I saw that telephone pole and there was no time to slow down. From my many years volunteering on the fire department I knew in those seconds that the outcome could be very bad for me. And then it happened. The thoughts of what I would miss. My son growing up. Missing his milestones in life. My husband. I saw visions of my childhood growing up with my brother. My parents. My younger siblings. It was literally the highlight reel of my life. And then I saw the telephone pole inches from my car and as my car was rolling, it went straight into it. I closed my eyes and held the steering wheel and told God if it's my time I pray for peace and quickness without suffering. And then there was impact. I sat there hanging from my seat belt. I opened one eye and then the other. Was I alive? The next part happened so quickly it was unreal. Bystanders who witnessed my accident climbed on my car and drug me out. They were all talking at once but I couldn't hear them. I said please call my husband to another bystander and rattled off his number knowing he was scrubbed into surgery and was confident he wouldn't answer. The ambulance came and by then the world was more in focus. The paramedic told me they were going to take me to the trauma center at which time I kindly declined. I told them to just take me to the hospital I knew my insurance covered. He said, you are a nurse, now look out there at your car and tell me that you don't need to go to the trauma center. And I said please take me to the hospital my insurance covers. Then I heard the other paramedic say hey here comes one of the trauma surgeons he can tell us what he thinks. I heard him before I saw his face and he said "take her to the trauma center." I said I don't think that is necessary. The paramedic looked at me then said, that guy is one of the trauma surgeons, to which I replied "that guy is my husband." So off to the trauma center I went. I got great care but there is something about being there with someone the ENTIRE staff knows that's a little difficult. Here I am stripped down to my 'designer' hospital gown and person after person from the environmental services department to the other surgical staff, nurses and techs stopped by.  And so it went on and on for hours. The first couple of times were quite embarrassing but I quickly got over that. I appreciated that when people found out his wife was the patient laying on the stretcher they showed genuine concern and would come back and check on me until we left. The effects of that day still linger. I am no longer the super confident person in the car. I get anxious at times. I get cold sweats and nauseated when I see someone pulling out from across an intersection. It took me months to drive back down that road. I would rather drive the extra 15-20 min to work then drive down that road. Until one day my husband said you are going to do this and I will be in the car with you. Every day when I look in the mirror and see the four inch scar that runs down my neck I touch it and thank God I still get another day with my kids. I get another day with my husband. I get another day with my family.
It's true that life flashes before your eyes.
At least it was for me that day.
By God's will, I was very lucky that the outcome of that incident on that day was in my favor.

Life is precious. Life is short. So live life to the fullest!

Ruthie Toothie

Disclaimer:
Be advised, what you are about to read may or may not uncover truths you are not wanting to accept. Read with caution.....

Growing up we are fed legends of mystical people or animals. We are told if we believe, they may bring us something on a special day or holiday. Insert the legend of the Tooth Fairy. A glorious story of a magical fairy that when you lose a tooth, will come and take your tooth that is hidden away under your pillow, and leave some coins in its place. Although I think now the Tooth Fairy leaves green bills because let us face it, it's hard to keep up with inflation.

I remember the excitement as a child the night upon losing a tooth. I anxiously would place it in the perfect spot under my pillow so the Tooth Fairy would have easy access to it. I would lay there in anticipation, unable to sleep right away, with thoughts of a late night visit from her.

Now having my own children I think about these mystical and magical things. And I wonder where is the parent's version?! Our daughter in the last three weeks has had eight new teeth! And it looks like numbers nine and ten are shortly behind. It has been quite a surprise. It took nearly a year for her first tooth to come in. She had well mastered walking before she could even take a bite out of her favorite crackers. Her constant chewing and biting accompanied with gallons of drool was not the only sign she was plagued with multiple insults of teeth breaking the gum line. Though she is not much of a sleeper in general this teething business makes for long nights for our poor little one and mommy. Let me also make mention of her ornery behavior as well. And so where is the Tooth Fairy when I need her? I think for every tooth that arrives, parents should receive some compensation as well. Be it green bills or some medication that actually helps them get through this agonizing process in the circle of life. Luckily for our little miss she has a very good big brother who insists on reading her Dr. Seuss's The Tooth Book nearly every day so "she knows what is going on and she's not scared about it." And also because "it's very important she takes care of her teeth because these ones will fall out and her second ones come and that's it, that's all she gets!" So says her big brother.

So maybe next round Tooth Fairy, when you come to visit our children you can leave a little memento for those of us that suffer right along with our teething children.