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…..

Full of Grace

I am not a graceful person. By nature, I am clumsy, heavy footed, and lack elegance. I grew up more of a "tom boy" finding things like fashion, make-up, and nail polish of little priority. I remember once listening to my dad talk about his kids and make the comment that he did not get a "girl" out of the bunch, as my sister is similarly natured to myself. As I have gotten older, I have an appreciation for "girly" things, as I like to hold an air of elegance to some degree, however it does not come naturally to me.
I remember the moment the doctor told us we had a girl. As mentioned in previous posts, gender is always a surprise for us until birth. And a surprise it was. Due to my previously mentioned nature, having a girl was not something I thought I could manage. I saw myself as a boy mom. God, however felt differently. And He is always right. I recall the moment my mom sat at my bedside the next morning gazing at this new little bundle

She told me she could not wait to go shopping now that we new the baby was a girl. The excitement in her eyes as she described frilly dresses and hair bows frightened me. The dresses came pouring in from family and friends. I had never seen so many. And pink, do not even get me started on everything that can be made pink. I took it in stride. At first our girl did not like bows in her hair and tights made her itch. As she grew into a toddling two year old things started to change. They were subtle changes but I noticed. A sudden interest in my necklaces, lotion and nail polish. We would go to the stores and we could not leave without a new chapstick or hair bow. And then one day I saw her twirling around the kitchen, hands stretched up in the air as she proclaimed, "look at me! I am a ballerina!" Shortly after the daily requests to go to ballet started. I was not surprised. I would sit and watch her all of the time and it seemed like ballet would be a natural thing she would gravitate towards. She has that natural graceful quality that her mother lacks. An inherent quality that ballerina's seem to carry easily. The way she holds herself and articulates herself, even at her young age, shows that she will enjoy the finer things in life. And so, last night was her first ballet lesson. At the dance studio they do not start ballet lessons until after their fourth birthday, for anatomical and maturity reasons. The dance instructor however, hearing about my little lady, said to bring her to class and she would see how she does. 

After class, I was informed that she did amazingly well. She listened intently, even better than some of the 4 and 5 year olds. She practiced and studied the teacher as she was being taught first position and arabesque, all terms I will need to learn quickly. And that she most certainly can come back for the remainder of the semester. As we drove home from her first lesson, she chattered non stop about her experience and excitedly called her dad to tell him all about it. She walked around the house last night like she was ten feet tall but did it in the most graceful, girly manner. I have no doubt that this season will provide us with much entertainment as she embarks down this new path. And honestly, I am loving every minute of it. 

I hate Scarlet.....

Well we managed to make it almost seven years without a trip to Urgent Care or the Emergency Department. That streak broken on Saturday morning when my big guy came downstairs upon waking, looking like the Michelin Man with a sunburn. He was burning up with a temperature of 105.2, covered in rash from head to toe and swollen beyond recognition. After a long morning spent at Urgent Care we went home with the diagnosis of Scarlet Fever. 

I honestly was unaware of the presence of Scarlet Fever that still existed, but boy have I been schooled in it in the past 48 hours. 

Those first 48 hours were really tough for him. Fighting incredibly high fever, chills, nausea, headaches, itching, you name it he struggled with it. There is an element of heartache seeing your children so very ill and feeling helpless. He could barely lift his head to drink anything the first 24 hours. That first night I slept with him, worried about the high temperatures and risk for seizures as well as the swelling in his throat. He could not get comfortable. He would cry telling me his whole body hurt and felt like he was on fire. With temperatures reaching so high I can imagine how awful he felt. All I could do was hug him and make sure I got his medication to him exactly when he could have the next dose. Yesterday he showed some signs of improvement, however we still struggled with high fevers. And last night, though not as tough, still managed to keep us awake for part of it with a lot of discomfort and fever. 

We went to his follow up appointment in Pediatrics Acute Care Clinic this morning. He looks a little better, although still puffy and swollen. The doctor was pleasantly surprised to see that he could answer questions with words instead of groans. He still looks like he has a painful sunburn, but the inflammation look has subsided. I think we made it over the hump thank God. The doctor said his fevers are trending down and now responding to medications; so she believes we got through the worst of it. I hope and pray we never have to go through something like this again. And I’ll be continuing to keep an extra close eye on the other two in the coming days. I do not hate much in this life, but I sure feel strongly about hating Scarlet……fever 😊

Lasting Memories

Today would have been his birthday. He would have been 85. He answered his last call on this Earth at the age of 66, on May 27, 2000. He went by many names. Some of which inappropriate to share in this post I am sure. However, to those of us that loved him the most he was Frenchy, Pop, and Grandpa. For 18 plus years I do not think there is a day that has gone by that I have not thought about him. He was the type of person who left his mark on many, many lives. A fact that was apparent on the day of his service. The pews of St. Mary’s church were lined with hundreds of people. And even still it could not hold all that came to pay their respects to a man that left this life fulfilled, albeit too early. 

He spent two plus decades in the Navy, finally retiring as Chief Petty Officer. He served tours in Vietnam and Korea. He earned a bronze star with a combat ‘V’ for valor in Vietnam with numerous other accolades and honors during his lengthy career. He spent the rest of his days in construction. Always known to be a hard worker and not quitting until the job was done. An ideal he also set for his family. 

He set high standards. Sometimes they felt impossible to live up to but ultimately, they made us better for it. I went to him often during times of struggle. He could give the kind of life advice and guidance that was not partial but full of wisdom and life experience. He would tell you like it is, not afraid to hurt your feelings but made sure you knew he loved you. I often reflect on his words, to this day, when faced with challenges. He was a jokester. But more than that he was a storyteller. Boy could he tell some whoppers. He was strong, stubborn and ornery. He loved his family fiercely and had a good heart.

And man could he play the harmonica. Some of my favorite memories of him are sitting around the fire listening to him play his harmonica and sing his songs. He always seemed bigger than life. A personality unique to him. He was a character and a friend to many. He could be in conflict with someone and by the end of the encounter they would both be laughing. As he would walk away you could see the confusion on the other persons face like, “wait a minute what just happened? I was supposed to be mad at you!” That was the kind of person he was. 

I wish he was still around. There have been many times in my life when I thought, “what would grandpa tell me?” I wish he could see my little family, as I know he would love my kids so much. Instead though I am grateful for my lasting memories of him. Moments in life I treasure. Advice I have never forgotten and expectations that I constantly try to live up to, even today. Happy Birthday Grandpa! We love and miss you always ❤️

Teach. Love. Inspire.

Teachers. People who work tireless and endless hours, often unappreciated, trying to make a difference and educate those they instruct. I have had some pretty outstanding teachers in my life. Teachers who made me curious, who inspired me, who pushed me to my potential. Teachers hold a special place in my heart. Lord knows I could not do the job they do, and I spent my working days covered in blood, amniotic fluid and many other bodily fluids while being screamed at for epidurals. In all seriousness though, teachers are amazing human beings. And the great ones will stay with you forever having left their mark in your life. 

            Last year the ENTIRE state of West Virginia’s teachers went on strike. Fifty-five counties of teachers banded together and said enough is enough. West Virginia teachers are amongst the lowest paid teachers in the nation, something I could not even imagine. My son’s school is amazing. We love Ridgedale Elementary and we love the teachers. My son spent almost three weeks at home due to the strike last year. And you know what, that was ok, because those teachers deserved more. 

            Recently the teachers in my hometown in Washington state went on strike, delaying the start of the school year for them. Some of them are teachers I had, though most of them retired now. One of my friends wrote a beautiful post about her father, a teacher. He was one of my most memorable teachers in high school. She wrote about his sacrifices, his love for his job and his devotion to teach. That was obvious to those of us who were his students. One of my swim coaches was another influential teacher in my life. He pushed us, hard. He did not tolerate nonsense and he made sure we knew it. I am pretty sure I did my fair share of pushing his buttons, but it was all in good fun (love you Coach haha). It was because of amazing teachers that I went through the ‘Running Start’ program my Junior and Senior year of high school. A program that took me to the community college and provided me with the opportunity for free college education and credit hours. Without the encouragement of those influential teachers and my family I may not have even tried to do that. 

            Most of the time I see positive comments and support for teachers. However, there is always the frustrated, discouraged parents that want their kids back in school. I get it. I know it’s tough managing childcare, or having to do school work with your kids while they are out (that is what my son’s school required) but I ask you to think about these teachers. Think about the fact that they are with your children more than you are during the school year. And the fact that they often stay after hours making lessons plans, grading homework, etc. Often times teachers are responsible for the supplies they need for their classroom. If they don’t get enough donated where do you think the money comes from for their supplies? After school programs, who do you think volunteers or is asked to participate, coach, etc? TEACHERS. 

Teachers do not have glorious jobs. Let’s be honest, you’ve seen your kids having meltdowns, tantrums, etc from time to time (or in some cases more so). You know how challenging it can be when you are dealing with that. Now put yourself in a teachers shoes and endure that every day for eight or nine months out of the year. If every class is roughly 20-25 students, and every kid is allowed a bad day a month, that means that teacher is dealing with a bad day with at least one student EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. How would you handle it if your child was having meltdowns and tantrums EVERY. SINGLE. DAY? You’d probably ship them off to their grandparent’s house for the weekend and say ‘see ya Sunday!’ I know I would! 

Teachers are vital to our society. They answer a calling that a lot of us have no desire to. People say, ‘well they knew what they were signing up for when they went to school to be a teacher.’ Yes, you are correct. Like all of us, we know what we are getting into when we choose our respective career fields. Does that mean we do not want to be fairly compensated for our time and efforts? No. Support your teachers. Stand with them. Stand behind them. Because at the end of the day they are the ones who educate your child.

Milestones

Childhood is marked by numerous milestones. Moments that we look to for reassurance we are meeting their needs, their proposed developmental stages, and growing. Today my little H became a big girl. She started preschool. This new milestone was met with some heartache on my part but even more excitement as I watched the light in her eyes as we embarked on this new chapter.

It has been an interesting road thus far with my little lady. As with any new change or development with my kids, I am brought back in time to the day they were born. Today was no different. As I was packing her backpack this morning it hit me that we have reached a new stage in life with her. A stage that seemed to take eternity to get to but also that seemed to happen too quickly. We always go with surprises when our kids are born, choosing to wait to find out gender until the big day. When she was born she was whisked away to the warmer by the NICU team due to some struggles at first. I remember the doctor saying, “you have a girl” and then my husband instantly said, “we should name her Hanna! Doesn’t she look like a Hanna?!” I had not actually seen her at this point, but she was destined to be a Hanna.

The first five months of her life were at best challenging. She cried 22 out of 24 hours a day. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her. Looking back on those days, I am not sure how we survived. I literally packed her everywhere in my Moby wrap as that was the only thing that would calm her, and we spent most nights tirelessly pacing the apartment as I would sing and rock her just to get a few minutes of peace. I did not have much help as my husband’s residency hours left him mostly at the hospital and on the rare occasion he was home sleep over took. And so, we just took it one hour at a time, day after day. My oldest son was so sweet to her. Always trying to comfort her or play with her and to this day they have a special bond. We eventually discovered she had a milk protein and soy allergy. Life got a little better once we removed those from her diet however on the days she would consume something with those ingredients it was rough. 

It was because of those early days her and I became so attached. We did what we had to do to get through those difficult days. Until today when I dropped her off at preschool I have not been without my girl for one day since the day she was born. Even when I was in labor with our youngest she was there (thanks to my husband’s coworker she was not present for delivery) and then the next day because my husband had to work she also spent the day in the hospital with her new little brother and myself. 

            Last night as I laid with her in her bed she was talking to me about school. I watched her as she laid on her back staring up at the ceiling with a twinkle in her eye and she told me how preschool would be. All of the new friends she would see, the coloring she would get to do and of course getting to play on the playground. My heart squeezed a little as I listened and watched her and her palpable excitement. Then she rolled over on her side and with a sweet movement placed her hand on my cheek and asked, “will you miss me tomorrow mommy?” I replied that of course I would. I told her I would miss our afternoon tea party, our stories before nap time and all of her hugs she gives me. Then her quiet little voice said, “well it’s ok to miss me. I will miss you too. Don’t be sad because I will have lots of stories to tell you.” As I dropped my girl off today, I gave her a tight hug and a kiss and reminded her to collect her stories for me to share when I pick her up from school. She said, ‘ok momma’ and then went off with her teacher, holding her hand, as she was introduced to the other kids in her class. And just like that she became my big girl. As I sit here and write this the house is so quiet. My youngest sound asleep for nap time. Even he had trouble today with the absence of his sister. Asking me every five minutes, "Where sissy?" There will be more milestones to come and lots of new chapters for my big girl and I am excited to experience them with her. 

Mommy will you lay with me?

I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday, so small and so precious. Even from those beginning days I knew he was going to be a loving child. Back then I worked night shift. He would be home those hours with his dad and I would look forward to those afternoon naps with him when I would get home in the morning. One, because I was so exhausted and two, because he loved to be snuggled. When we moved to Seattle for my husband’s final years of residency/fellowship the majority of that time it was just my son and me. We would have campouts on the floor, late night movie sessions (I swear I never want to watch the Lorax ever again in my lifetime) and lots of snuggles.

From the time he could talk clearly, every single night he would ask me to lay with him until he fell asleep. We would brush his teeth, say good night to ALL of his stuffed friends, I would tuck him in and then his sweet little voice would say "I love you mommy, will you lay with me?" When his sister came along it got a little harder. Still most nights on our own we would all end up sleeping in my bed because he insisted that I lay with him and his sister (bless her and her colicky days, thanks to a milk protein allergy) also needed me to comfort and lay with her.

As he gets older, he will be 7 in the Fall, I wait for it. I wait for the day I tuck him in and he doesn't utter those sweet words. I wait for it because I know my heart will break a little. It will mark a change, that he is growing older and those days of my comfort and snuggles will not be needed or wanted as much. I see it all around me. My friend’s kids that I knew as children now growing into their teenage years and even going off to college. I want to savor these moments as long as I can. Because I know they will not last forever. Every night I find myself tucking him in, holding my breath and hoping he will still want me to lay with him until he falls asleep. Just one more night I tell myself every night. Just give me one more night. One more night that he needs me and wants my comfort and snuggles. These moments don't last forever. I see him changing in front of my eyes. Growing and maturing. So, I try to cherish the moments I get. I am thankful for tonight. That I got one more night of his snuggles. We will see what happens tomorrow.

Thank You

To the strong special mother that posted and to the families that love him......thank you!

Yesterday I started packing for a trip our kids have been begging us to take them on for a year. Literally for 365 days all I have heard was that they wanted to go to the beach. For several months we have been planning this trip but not telling the kids until recently because I did not want to jinx it.

You see it is common for us to have canceled trips and plans. Heart kids who need him take priority. That has always been known and something we understand. Last night this trip became a little in question. My husband came home from work to tell me about his day and a baby that may need him remotely.

You wrote about your selfish occasional moments and know that I have my own. It is not often but from time to time they happen. And last night was one of them. For a moment, and I promise it was only a moment, I thought oh man how am I going to tell the kids that we cannot go to the beach. Because you see we had just shared with them that we were taking them. I stopped packing our bags last night and instead laid and read my book. And then, as if God knew my heart, my phone dinged with a link that was shared to me. A link I needed to read. A link that would remind me that I have to share this life and this unique human being I call husband. It was your story, but it wasn't. It was also my story. And it brought me to tears. I have never complained about his work or his hours. I look into the eyes of my children every day after listening to countless stories of families like yours and I am thankful that I can share this person who has been given a gift to help you and your family in your time of need.

I have often wondered if you and other families know about us. As I know my husband is a man of few words. There have been countless missed birthdays, special moments with the kids, anniversaries etc, and I wonder if you know. Do you know that when he comes home you all come home with him? Even when he is home he worries. He calls. He texts. To find out how your little one is doing. Nothing is missed, I assure you, even when he is not there.

Thank you for sharing your story. It warms my heart to know he is loved by so many. It makes me happy to know his impact in your life means so much. And thank you for giving me something to share with my children so they know that though their dad is not always present his purpose of absence is because of a greater calling. I hope one day you come across my words as well and know how grateful I am to have read yours and how much they meant to me ❤

The Magic of the Majestic Falls

We spent five hours in the car today on our drive home. It was a nice drive on a beautiful day. Our bags are all unpacked, and the first load of laundry is going. Sounds of the kids laughing and playing is music to my ears as I sit here with my fresh steeped peppermint tea, that I have missed drinking, and a, ok two (don't judge me), maple cream biscuit cookies (man, why did I not buy two boxes of these?!) from our fun filled trip to Canada. 

Almost every year since my husband and I got married, nine to be exact, we have spent one week in Toronto visiting his big, wonderful family. His mom, being one of 13 kids, has a family that surpasses the size of most. I have loved our trips there and always look forward to them. It is a busy time filled with traveling from home to home, wonderful and engaging chats, and food, so much food! Every year I come back a decent five pounds heavier, thanks to all of the marvelous foods that are served at every home we visit. After we spent four days in Toronto we packed up and headed to Niagara Falls. A place I have always wanted to visit. A bucket list item I finally got to mark off thanks to my gracious husband. 

The two days spent in Niagara Falls were simply put, breathtaking. The views are things that cannot be written about in a way the minds of those that read will fully comprehend. We walked and walked and walked the entire time we were there. All of our kids did amazing and even the little guy made the whole trek. There was one moment yesterday that really touched my soul. We had gone down to the edge of the Table Rock Welcome Center to take in the splendid beauty and force that is Horseshoe Falls, one part of Niagara Falls. Now to clarify, I am from the Pacific Northwest. I am well versed when it comes to beautiful creations. There is no shortage of amazing waterfalls in the PNW. 

At one time there was this spectacular rainbow that appeared and went from one end of the falls to the other. It was truly something to behold. For a moment the entire world  kind of disappeared as I marveled at the beauty of it. And then as if there was a lesson to be learned, the world started coming back into focus. I looked around at the hundreds of thousands of people standing there with myself and my family taking in this moment. It was then that it hit me. I watched an older Caucasian woman happily taking a picture of an Indian family and asking them if the picture was ok as she returned their camera. I saw an African man return a toy that an Asian child had dropped on the ground with a smile on his face and the child’s, as the parents said thank you with smiles as well. I saw every race, every culture, every religion, heard every language just standing there in that moment. Every color of every person so beautiful. 

I looked back at the rainbow and saw the same. Every distinct color so beautiful in its own right but when combined with the other colors, it created this amazing visual masterpiece. In a time when there   is so much hate for those that are different, this moment gave me hope that all is not lost. Every person at the falls that day was so immeasurably happy. People different from one another wanting to help others create memories by taking their pictures or conversing with one another about the amazing waterfalls to behold. And that was the magic in that moment. Or as I told my son later, the pot of gold you find at the end of the rainbow. 

Do you copy?

I watch my kids often and think about when I was growing up and the relationship I had with my brother. There were moments when my brother and I were thick as thieves and moments when we could not stand to be in the same room as each other. Having a sibling is a blessing I did not always appreciate in my teenage years but as time went on and we became adults I find immeasurable value in having siblings. So many things I went through in life I survived because I had my brother to lean on or complain to, and that is still true to this day. Though time and distance do not provide us many opportunities to spend time together, I know that he is always a phone call or FaceTime away. I think about that and hope that my kids will find the same value in their relationship as well and today during nap time it occurred to me that I believe they will.
One of my favorite memories of my brother and I growing up was after our mom would tuck us in for bed and we thought she had gone downstairs to do some sewing or reading or something we would play games. Our bedrooms were right next door to each other. And so we could talk and hear each other well. One of the games we would play is "I am thinking of a person"....and we would go on to describe the person in as much detail as we could and see if the other person could figure out who we were describing. We would go on like this for a while until we would hear our Mom "ok you guys go to bed!" And we would wait....."hey are you awake"...."yep"....wanna play another game.....until we would eventually fall asleep.
My kids were gifted some walkie talkies from a friend of theirs recently. They have thoroughly enjoyed playing together with them. Today after I laid them down for naps I went downstairs to get started on my business proposal project for school. Then I heard it....(squawk from the walkie talkie) "hey H are you awake"...."yes brother"...."H you have to talk quietly so mommy can't hear us"...."ok brother"...."H you're supposed to say 'copy that' or '10-4'"...."ok brother" (I sit there and chuckle to myself as her 3 year old self just does not quite grasp the walkie talkie lingo) "H, do you want me to read you a bedtime story?" "Yes, brother"...and so her big brother begins to read her a bedtime story through the walkie talkie.
There are days they fight like nothing I have ever seen. Testing my patience and my inner mother strength not to yell and scream "knock it off". And then I get these moments. It is these moments that tug at my heart and let me know that someday they will value their relationship as much as I do the one I have with my brother.

Gifts We Take For Granted

Do you ever stop and realize gifts we are given in this life that we so easily take for granted? Simple things like watching our children play outside, listening to their laughter or hearing them say ‘I love you’. Tasting food and experiencing different cuisines. Wandering around in nature, in all of its splendid glory. 

Three weeks ago, I woke up one morning to a blurry world. Normally this is common for me, as I have needed corrective lenses since my late teenage years. What was unusual though was when I was looking at my hand in front of my face but not being able to see it clearly. Thinking it was from a late night of studying I went to the kitchen continually blinking my eyes to focus while I made my husband coffee before he went to work. I sat down at my computer to look through a school project I was working on and realized I could not even see my computer screen unless I closed my right eye. 

I went to the bathroom to put in my contact lens. The left one went in and was fine. I looked around the bathroom and nothing had changed. However, when I closed my left eye I still could only see blobs of blurry things in my surroundings. This was very unusual. Normally my right eye is my stronger eye and I usually only need my contacts to see things in the distance. So, I went to put my right contact lens in. The world was still a blurry mess. I thought maybe it was something wrong with the lens. I threw it out and got a new one. Same thing. Frustrated, I decided to open a new box and try one from the new box. Same thing. Hmm, what is going on. We needed to schedule our annual eye exams anyway, so I called and scheduled our appointments. Mine was last Monday.

I went in and when they asked if this was just a routine annual exam I explained that I had not been able to see out of my right eye for a week and a half. That the world was blurry, and I mostly walked around with my eye shut if I needed to see anything. They took me back for my exam. They started the exam, but I couldn’t read any of the lines I should have been able to. So, they moved me to the room where the doctor would see me. She came in and said that they would need to dilate my eyes and do an in depth structural exam because something wasn’t right. Well duh, I am practically blind right now! Don’t worry I did not say that. After the exam, in true doctor fashion she pushed the machine away and started talking about what was going on and the possibilities that presented themselves. My cornea had either experienced a hypoxic injury, or I had a condition known as Terrien’s corneal degeneration. Terrien’s is normally seen in men, however it can occur in women. She said because of the significant inflammation in my eye she would need to put me on a combo antibiotic/steroid drop that I would need to use four times a day as well as a flax oil lubricating drop every two hours and to take fish oil for the next week to see if the inflammation would go down. I also had to get a special lens for my glasses to try and make some corrections to help me navigate this challenge and improve my vision as much as we could. 

Today was one week. I have thankfully had small improvements in my close vision and don’t have to sit with my face right next to the computer or close my right eye but there is still a significant amount of inflammation she says. I have to continue to use the drops for two more weeks while they try to get my insurance to approve a new medicated drop for my eye. I will need to go back in two weeks to have my eye numbed, so they can do an aqueous test and another vision check. I asked the doctor today if this will be my new ‘normal’ and the world will resume in a less perfect picture for my right eye. She said she hopes that as the cornea heals I will get some of my close vision back in my right eye but only time will tell. So, if you see me close my right eye if we are conversing, please note I am not winking at you but rather trying to focus with my left eye to get a better picture. 

The doctor told me she was glad that I was being so diligent about the medication and lubricating drops. She told me a story of a young lady, a few years younger than myself, that had experienced a similar issue but was not willing to adhere to the medication regimen and also not willing to go without her contacts and she is now waiting for a cornea transplant. I assured her that I am not willing to take that risk and if that means walking around with my big ole glasses and excusing myself to make sure I get my drops in my eye every two hours I will do just that. 

Life is precious. We often get caught up in the busyness and take for granted the gifts we have. Vision is one of those precious things that when it’s gone, it’s gone. I am determined to do what I have to do to regain as much of my vision as I can, doing exactly what the doctor tells me to do. She said this will likely be a several month process, but I am on the right track and she thinks that I will hopefully regain some (If not most fingers crossed) of my close vision in the next several months but my distant vision will remain with a significantly higher prescription of correction moving forward. This has been a real wake up call for me. In the last week I have looked around at things and often thought to myself what if I never get to see this clearly again and the damage cannot be corrected. Obviously, my left eye is fine, and I can navigate the world with my left eye, but I realize now the preciousness of the things we are afforded that can so easily be taken away in the blink of an eye. 

The Lost Art of Patient Care

I recently read something a friend of mine wrote about an experience she had with her husband’s surgeon. Reading through her words and imaging the pain and anger she felt hit me to my core. Her husband having had a complex heart surgery had complications post operatively. The surgeon never came to check on him as he struggled and nearly died in the intensive care unit. As I was reading her words I wondered to myself when did we start to lose the love and devotion for our jobs? When did taking care of patients become a burden? When did we lose the art of patient care? 

I say 'we' because it spans over the whole of medical professionals.

I remember the first time I was shocked by a physician leaving a patient situation. I was a Labor and Delivery nurse at the time, and the General Medical Education board had just changed the duty hours of resident physicians. We were in the middle of an emergency cesarean section (baby was out and doing ok) when the resident looked at the attending and from behind his surgical mask informed her that he was now over his duty hours for the week. He scrubbed out and left the operating room. I was shocked. Everyone in the operating room just kind of stood there for a second and I am sure we were all thinking the same thing, what in world?! 

I say that it spans the whole of medical professionals because I also had an experience several years later when I then was a nurse in the Cardiovascular Intensive Care (CVICU). I was assigned a student nurse for my shift. Glad to have some extra hands I got into teaching mode. When it was time for our patient to have a glucose check the student looked at me and said, "oh I have already been signed off on those, so I don't need to do them anymore."  When those words came out of his mouth all I saw was red. And the conversation went something like this.... I’m sorry what? I don't think I heard you. Your badge says student, correct?! That means you are here to learn! I don't care how many blood sugar checks are left in this shift, you will do every single one of them and if you tell me again that you won't, we will be having a conference with your instructor! 

I was a student once and I soaked in every single moment I could from my preceptors. They all had something to teach and I was hungry to learn. I could never have imagined saying that to one of my preceptors. Not ever. And here I was standing in front of the next batch of nurses who thought they didn't need to take a blood sugar.

Another experience I had in CVICU was with a physical therapist. Her and her aide were working with a patient on out of bed transfers using a lift. At some point while they were working with the patient the patient experienced an accident. Instead of pushing the call light to notify us we needed to come to the room, they laid the patient back in the bed in the soiled linens and went to the computer to chart and left. Moments later the patient called me to the room to tell me what happened. Again, I saw red. Why would you ever treat someone like that! I notified my charge nurse who called the house supervisor to report the incident so that they could call their supervisors. These things shouldn't happen. 

I go back to thinking about the surgeon my friend dealt with and the resident. I know that they have lives. I know that they are tired. I know that they are under a lot of stress, I see it. I live it every day. I myself get frustrated at times when birthdays are missed, trips out of town are canceled, the kids go weeks without seeing their dad, but I have to remember someone else's child needs him. He has never once to this day not answered a page, a call, an email from a nurse, another attending or even a patient family member. He goes back when they ask or even if they don't. He never misses a lab draw or a change in status. He often sits at his patient’s bedside watching, waiting. If he is home, he is attached to his phone watching the lab values as they are resulted. I am not saying he is perfect. Lord knows we are still trying to figure out how to balance life on the edge of the scalpel. But he is a throwback to a generation that served their patients. In my years in the medical profession I have worked with so many outstanding professionals, but I can't deny that the things I saw concern me for the future. If we become detached, lose our compassion, our pride in our work and our servants heart then what is left?

The Long Road

When I first started this blog a few years ago it was because I felt like sharing what it was like being married to a surgeon. Everyone and their dog watches Grey's Anatomy (ok, so do I) however that is not what our life is like. It is not one hour blocks of amazing, life saving intense scenes. It is a struggle. It is a huge amount of sacrifice and a lot of ups and downs. It is real.

I met my husband eleven years ago when he was a second year family medicine resident. Two years later he started general surgery residency. Five years after that he started adult cardiothoracic surgery residency. Two years after that he started his fellowship for congenital cardiac surgery. All of those years. All of those moments. All of those sacrifices and today was the culmination of all of it. He got word that he passed his congenital cardiac surgery boards. He is now, one of the very few (if not only) quadruple boarded physicians in the United States. 

I have no words for how proud I am of him. He has dedicated the majority of his life (he is 35 years young) to his training. He has a story that still amazes me and I love to share it. Graduating high school at 15, undergraduate by 17, MD by 21 and then 11 years of residencies that followed. He gives as much to his patients as he did to his training. His drive and ambition, immeasurable. More things are to come in our lives as we continue to balance life on the edge of the scalpel.

Oh Boomer 🐹

The first time Boomer went on a late night adventure we scoured the internet looking for ways to entice him to come back to his home after having spent hours looking for him. There were plenty of suggestions because apparently it is not uncommon for these furry friends to make jail breaks. The most popular suggestion was to place his home on the ground with fresh food and treats and he will likely return. And they were right. By the next morning he was happily snuggled back into his little house in his habitat. Kids were happy, mom was especially happy, and all was well in the world again. I was grateful we survived our hamster adventure and took extra care to make sure that would not happen again. But it did. Several times in fact. I believe Boomer to be some kind of escape artist. He most times would stay in the upstairs bathroom, nestled in until we found him in his favorite corner of the linen closet. Occasionally he would venture out and be found under our oldest son's bed. And of course the one time he paid me a nice visit in the downstairs hallway bathroom.
The first night he was gone this time we tried the same tactic that worked the first time. Knowing he was no longer in the upstairs bathroom we placed his home in the upstairs hallway with a fresh bowl of food and treats. The next morning we woke and everything was as we had left it. Boomer had obviously made the dangerous trek down the 15 stairs and had made it to the main floor as I had thought. So we spent a lot of yesterday pulling out furniture, appliances etc again but he continued to evade us. So last night I decided to put his home in the middle of the living room floor. I knew if I were to find our little friend it would likely be in the middle of the night and so at 320am when I found myself awake I decided to check his cage. Yep he'd been in there. But he wasn't anymore. His treats gone, his food bowl moved, the evidence obvious. But no Boomer. And so off I went. It took me all of about five minutes to go into the kitchen to make a cup of tea when I saw his furry self scurry across the floor trying to find a new hiding spot. Caught ya! And so off we went on our struggle, him trying to remain a free man (we think he's a he) and I trying to wrangle the furry creature like trying to catch a pig in slop. Eventually the reality hit him that I was not giving up until he was secured in his home, either that or he just got too tired from running and he let me catch him. He was safely placed back in his home, at which time he went to his water container and drank like a kid in the sun on a summer day. And so his adventure ended at 430 this morning. Until next time Boomer.....

Blog Résurrection: The Missing Hamster

It is hard to imagine it has been over a year and a half since my last blog post. As I sit here tonight, with a million other things I could be doing, I felt compelled to resurrect my blog.
A laundry basket sits in the corner with nice clean clothes waiting to be folded.
My text book sitting next to me with two more chapters to read by Friday.
My computer screen with my school browser open in another tab waiting for discussion dialog to take place with my classmates.
My Windows program open with my half finished assignment that is also due on Friday.
Oh and Boomer, where is that guy?!
The kids and I have spent the better part of today on a hamster search and rescue mission. His last known whereabouts were around 8pm yesterday evening when the kids fed him his carrots and seeds. My youngest, having gone back in at some point before he went to bed, opened the cage door enticing him on another late night adventure.
This is not the first time our furry friend has escaped and went roaming around. Often times we locate him fairly quickly. There was one early morning several months ago he paid me a surprise visit in the hallway bathroom. I did not have my glasses on at the time but as I walked in and turned on the light a furry blob entered my visual field and sat by my feet. Well, good morning to you too Boomer. The part that perplexed me the most was how in the world he had gotten so far. Normally he stays in the kid's upstairs bathroom. The convenience of tile flooring and away from the general public made the placement of his home there practical. He had to travel down 15 stairs that are longer than the length of his body and still continue on his adventure through the house to find his way to that bathroom. When he did have his previous escapee adventures he would mostly stay in the bathroom, hanging out in there waiting for us to find him, offer him a treat and place him back in his home. This adventure however has lasted a little longer than I am comfortable with. We have looked in every corner, under every single piece of furniture in this house. There seems to be no place we have not looked and yet he continues to evade us. And so we go to sleep tonight wondering where is our friend Boomer and a reminder to everyone to make sure they turn the lights on when they get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.

My hope is to continue to write on my blog as I find I have missed this outlet and writing over the last 19 months. Hopefully I can catch up on all of the things that have happened and the shenanigans that continue to happen in our house as we continue to balance life on the edge of the scalpel.....To be continued