Such beautiful pain.

EDITED BY POPULAR REQUEST TO INFORM YOU THAT THE BABY IS FINE.


Wednesday night was a little weird for me, so I didn’t draft a post for Thursday.

About a year ago, I was sitting at the dinner table, finishing some food and watching Braden’s antics as he played in the living room. Suddenly, there was some weird, shiny blob (Yes, “weird, shiny blob” is the technical, clinical term for the phenomenon) floating in the middle of my field of vision.

When this happens to you and you have NOT just dropped acid, it causes some amount of alarm.

(On Acid, it’s just funny. And then the elves come out and the party really starts! Ok. Just kidding. I have never dropped acid. Now, on mushrooms… )

The Blob grew and grew, and as it did, it moved off to the left side. By the time it reached its peak, it was covering my entire left field of vision, and I couldn’t focus on anything very well.

Frankly, it was beautiful. It was a shimmery circle with a large C-Shaped leading edge. Geometrical patterns of all types danced and twhirled within it – all of them lovely, shimmering rainbow colors.

It’s hard to appreciate the beauty of something like that when you’re wondering things like, “Is this indicative of a brain tumor in my occipital lobe?”

I was scared, and I talked to John on the phone while it was happening. It played out and went away after somewhere between 20-40 minutes.

I did some Googling (of course) and determined that what I was experiencing was “scintillating scotoma” a symptom of “ocular migraine.” It’s basically the “migraine aura” without the follow-up headache – so I counted myself lucky and moved on. It didn’t happen again until about a month ago. When it did, I just thought, “Oh, well… that hasn’t happened in a while, but I can handle it.” And just like the first time, it shimmered and danced, but I was a bit more able to appreciate it. Again, it resolved completely after about 30 minutes.

It happened again on Wednesday afternoon, while I was outside trying to shoot some weeds and other random things while Braden was sleeping.

Just as I was taking the shot above, the now familiar Blob showed up in the center of my visual field. I decided to shoot a little more until I felt I had to stop. After about 10 minutes, I gave up and went inside.

I tried looking at my computer screen, but i could only see parts of words, the C-Shape was becoming increasingly dominant, and I was starting to feel… funny.

It was just as beautiful, visually, as ever.

That is where my appreciation of the event ends. And where the pain started.

I’ll remind you, the “aura” always moves off to the left. The pain was on the right side of my brain. It started off heavy in my temple and towards the base of the skull. Soon the pain spread to cover the entire right side of the brain. Along with the pain came a strange, muddled feeling. It wasn’t dizziness… more like a mild drunk feeling – maybe that of a heavy buzz (but not pleasant).

It was hanging on, so I decided to rest. Braden was still napping, so I went to sleep.

I slept fitfully, dreaming of discomfort and children in pain.

Over an hour later, Braden woke me, and I went to his room to get him. The first thing I registered on waking was that my head was still hurting. The next was that there was still a streak of “aura” in my left visual field.

The Panic Switch was officially thrown. I tried to stay calm and get Braden occupied with something.

Then I noticed the pain and tenderness in my neck surrounding my left carotid artery. And it was getting worse. Over 5 minutes, it increased such that all I had to do was turn my head to the left and my carotid would sing the song of pain directly into my left ear in a shrieking Soprano wail.

My heart was beating the rhythm to a furious and heavy dance that was getting faster and faster… it was like evil jungle music in my veins.

The next few hours after that are a blur. I Googled. I spoke with different people on the phone… John, Becky, Lea… I am thankful to each of them for spending time with me and giving me advice. I worried. I hemmed and hawed about going to the ER with no health insurance.

I worried about getting someone to drive me because a) I am moderately night blind, so driving at night is BLEH for me, and b) I was afraid of another aura while driving.

I watched Braden running around playing, making silly faces at me, and doing little dances, and it struck me that for all I knew, if I didn’t go to the ER, I could be on very limited time with my son.

It doesn’t take much more than a thought like that.

I got on GTalk and told Alli I might be MIA from Photo Bliss for a day or so. She came to my rescue – virtually grabbed Karla and pulled her into chat.

Karla lives just a bit south of us. And she was willing to come get me, drive me to a hospital, and watch Braden. AKA = She is an Angel of God.

I ran around getting a bag together for Braden, putting on jeans, and readying the house for me to leave. Karla arrived and we headed to the hospital. It was all so very surreal. I was leaving the house with a girlfriend and my son just before 9pm at night on a random Wednesday.

To go to the ER, worried about my brain.

Was it the right choice? Was I being silly?

At the hospital, I explained to the doctor about the previous ocular migraines and what I had experienced that day.

When I was done he smirked at me and said, “Okay, you’re saying things to me like, “visual field,” “right hemisphere,” and “carotid artery.” It sounds like you’ve been reading way too much. What have you been up to?”

As he was looking into my right ear, I laughed and said, “Well, I have a BA and an MA – I’m pretty well educated and I have access to Google so I’m probably your worst nightmare.”

As he looked into my other ear and then my mouth he said, “No, you’re certainly not, but you ARE overthinking it all. You are going to be fine.”

“Yeah, I do tend to over-analyze everything.”

“What is your MA in?”

“Psychology.”

“Ah-ha. One of those.”

He nodded to himself. I chuckled.

He pulled up the legs of my pants about 5 inches or so and squeezed my ankles, saying, “No swelling.”

Then he paused and stared at them for a moment, and said quite seriously, “You’re going to need to have your pituitary gland checked.”

I just stared at him.

He continued, “There is an overgrowth of hair here…” indicating my legs.

I got myself a funny doctor.

“No, that’s what you would call a serious, clinical case of Motherhood.”

“No, no, you’re going to need to get it checked. You could grow a beard any time now.”

His official diagnosis was that I had a full blown classic migraine, and that, other than it being highly unpleasant, it was no big deal. I asked him if I could punch him in the head several times, because other than being highly unpleasant, it would really be no big deal.

Ok, I didn’t really ask him that. He was nice looking, had a wonderful bedside manner, and was doing an excellent job checking all my vitals and making me feel at ease. I didn’t suggest punching him in the head (I just thought it).

So the ending to the very long story of my Wednesday night is that I am okay. My neck is still tender, which concerns me, but I am okay for now.

That migraine was particularly ugly and I know they can be worse. They are triggered by weather changes, hormonal changes, stress… all kinds of things. The thought of doing things that would trigger another is highly unappealing to me.

I’m looking to de-stress a little bit, so you might see me let a day or two go by without a post once in awhile. My stress levels have been high for awhile, and that can cause all sorts of health problems. It’s not worth it.

Nothing on this thing we call The Interwebz is worth me looking at my precious kid and worrying about having my time cut prematurely short with him. Nothing is worth adding stress to my pregnant body and chancing never getting to spend time with that baby.

Trust me, I’m not signing off, by any means. I’ll still be around quite a lot.  You guys can’t get rid of me, are you kidding? But maybe I’ll be around just a bit less every now and then.

_______________________________________________________________________

PS: No mushrooms for me either, btw. I tend to shy away from putting things that grow under cow shit in my mouth. Yeah.

The light is faith and hope.

Today’s Photohunt Theme is “Road”

Looking Ahead While Moving Forward

I took that photo about a year ago. It’s been quite a long year, and yet, in the moment, it seems to have passed in the blink of an eye. The road was long and winding. A lot of it was uphill. There were definitely potholes. Once, I even hit a sinkhole. It felt like I would never escape that. It left me with some scars I’ll carry with me always, but I think I’ve climbed out of the hole now. And we’re driving ever onward.

The road may have been a rough one, true… But there were enough fun and thrilling curves to ride, and the number of speed bumps was low enough that, well… the light you see up ahead in that picture?

Well, I still see it, too.

Haiku To Help Ivy

UPDATE

Ivy has received the treatment! Click here to read the post where her mother announced it.
Thank you to all who posted about this and signed the petition! The internet can be used for good!
*********

This little girl needs
treatment because she’s always
in the hospital.

She is young, vibrant.
You can see the life in her
eyes, the sweetness, love.

Only two years old,
she has been in hospitals
countless, painful times.

Her story is one
that no child her age should have.
Sickness. Blisters. Pain.

Her immune system
does not do the job for her
that it really should.

She misses out on
things that little kids her age
should get to enjoy.

You can help her… She
needs treatment that’s being denied.
Sign the petition.

Her mom wants her to
have treatment so she’ll have a
chance at normal life.

Please don’t turn away.
Help her. It costs you nothing.
The worth is priceless.

A few moments, place
your name on the document,
her life could improve.

Thank you, in advance.
Thank you for helping this child
turn her back on pain.

I Wonder… best and worst advice you’ve ever received?

In my post last Thursday I shared an email from a friend about remembering to be grateful for the blessings we have in our lives. I do try to practice that on a regular basis – likely, you can see how well I notice the beauty around me in the photographs I have shared with you. Sometimes, though, I get very emotional and wrapped up in myself, worrying about finding a happiness I haven’t even got a definition for – chasing after something imagined that I think I’m supposed to be able to close my hands around to make everything better. In chasing that mentally, I can lose sight of blessings in my immediate view. This is (I believe) what Jenny was warning against. Her email was a reminder not to chase after that imagined thing, but to revel in the beauty your life already holds.

In a past email Jenny sent, she also mentioned that the best thing she did to help her heal was to let herself feel all the emotions that resulted from the heartbreak of her miscarriages. I think that’s important to mention, too. And this applies to any kind of heartache or grief, any emotionally tumultuous experience you might have. I think tempering yourself between these pieces of advice – fully experiencing the pain while still remembering your blessings – is the best place to be.

We can’t push down the painful feelings and just wash, rinse, and repeat the “be grateful for what you have, be grateful for what you have” to ourselves over and over again, as if validating the painful emotions would be a sign that we’re not grateful for what we have. (I know that Jenny understands that, because she shared with me that allowing herself to experience those emotions fully was the only way she’d be sure she would actually really heal in the long run.) But I wanted to make the point here, too. Because I think allowing yourself to be in pain when you are in pain is just as important to remember as consciously taking note of your blessings and being grateful for what you have.

Obviously, I feel that these are good pieces of advice – some of it is Jenny’s (that I agree with) and some of it is my own. And I clearly wouldn’t pass it on to you if I didn’t think it would do someone some good.

So, for today’s installment of “I Wonder…”

What’s the best piece of unsolicited advice you’ve ever gotten?

What’s the worst piece of unsolicited advice you’ve ever gotten?

Taking it one emotional bump at a time.

It’s that time of the month when I’m more emotional than usual. More sad. More stressed. More angry. More prone to tears, what ifs, and blank stares.

Recently, a long-time and very dear friend of mine named Jenny sent me an email that carries important words, and good advice. I asked her permission to share it with you all, and she agreed.

So, for any of you out there who are feeling, have felt, or will feel the same way I do right now, maybe you’ll find something here that helps you turn it around, or just to deal with it more effectively. Or maybe just to make it through another day without feeling like giving up.

**************

I know you didn’t ask for any advice, and so against my better judgment I’m going to offer some without solicitation, and I hope you’ll forgive me for doing so. You know my story, you know about all my failed pregnancies. Five years ago, I was struggling. My life wasn’t turning out like I wanted. I had dead babies instead of living ones. I had no answers and no health insurance to help me find answers. I had crazy moods and baby hamster hairballs in the shower drain and an empty womb and it wasn’t what I had planned. All my friends were on their 3rd or 4th child by then. I was tired of going to other people’s baby showers. I was broken hearted every time I looked in the spare closet and saw baby clothes and gear staring back at me, taunting me with their uselessness. I absolutely hated to hear any pregnant woman complain about her nausea, her swollen feet, her tiredness- what I would give for any of that. After the hopefulness that came with each positive pregnancy test, came the fear of loss, the inevitable emotional investment and hope, and then the emptiness of actual loss.

Then came this moment where I could see clearly: While I really do believe that most of the pain of the human experience is self-inflicted, some things are truly beyond our control. My life is not always about my choices. Things happen to us, and we get no say in how they turn out. What could I do about my childbearing life at that point? Could I change history, or even my obstetrical future? No. The situation was out of my hands. But the great realization was about gratitude. Could I hold my babies and raise them and nurse them? No, but I had other opportunities that my friends with little babies did not: I could go out of the house for more than 2 or 3 hours at a time. Heck, I could go out of town if I wanted. I could give blood, and do upside down yoga poses. I could make love to my husband without the let-down reflex squirting breast milk everywhere. I could work and take night classes. I could sky dive and ride roller coasters.

I couldn’t control what was happening to my body. I had to resort myself to the fact that 1- I may never know what is causing this to happen, and 2- I may never give birth to another living child. Rather than dwelling on those uncontrollable elements, I chose to focus on what I did have. The summation of the realization for me was this: Be grateful for what you have, when you have it.

I could spend my time and energy wanting what I couldn’t have, wishing for something beyond my control, hoping for karma or God to sort out the kinks and make everything right, or I could make the most of what I had right then, even if it wasn’t what I had hoped. I realized that no matter what life is handing me, I have a multitude of blessings to make the journey pleasant, even wonderful, if I choose to see them. Life is fluid, ever changing and shifting. I would not always be in the place, emotionally, mentally, that I was in then. Who’s to say if I’d be in a better one or not, that is also out of my hands to a degree. I knew that if I did have another child, I would have a host of other challenges, as well as blessings to appreciate. But for now, this is what I had. And I owed it to my husband and living children who were depending on me, and to God who gives me each day, to make it count for something. If not, life would end up passing me by while I hoped for what was around the corner. Be thankful for what you have, when you have it.

Again, know that I care and I want you to feel well and whole. If I’m full of crap, you won’t hurt my feelings to 1- roll your eyes and hit delete, or 2- write me back in all caps and tell me how wrong I am.

*********

Of course, I didn’t roll my eyes. I nodded and cried. And now I look back at these words often.

I think I’m going to take Braden to the park on Thursday and watch him run around and remember that the day he was born to me, whole and alive, was such a special blessing. Every day after that with him (even the tough ones) has been another special blessing in and of itself. There’s really nothing bad that can happen that can ever take from me the great gift of everything I’ve experienced so far with my son. So many wonderful things and moments – there’s no way to catalog them.

Today, I am thankful for that. And remembering to be thankful for that makes the other stuff easier to deal with.

Baby steps.

Thank you, dear friend.

Twenty-Four Hours.

Today, Saturday, marks the one week point.  It’s been one week since the bleeding of miscarriage began.  One week since I sat on the toilet, with Braden happily splashing in the tub to my left, looking down at the blood in disbelief.  Just one week since I began crying hysterically as more blood came.  One week since I fumbled the phone, almost dropping it into the toilet, to give my husband the worst news I have ever delivered to anyone.

One week since I laid my face on the floor next to the bathtub crying, begging out loud that this not be what I thought it was.  One week since I sobbed uncontrollably there, and Braden giggled in response because he thought I was laughing.

Last Friday night, I took this photo.

I was tired and emotional after watching a movie and thinking of an old hurt.

I attributed much of my emotional response then to pregnancy hormones.  You know how they are.

Almost exactly 24 hours after I took this photo, I started bleeding; miscarrying.

Twenty-four hours after that, I was waiting with high anxiety and nervous trepidation to visit my doctor the next morning for blood tests.

Twenty-four hours later yet, I was standing in my kitchen, having not received the test results yet, speaking to my (empty) uterus with fractured, clinging hope.

“Are you still in there?  Is it possible?  I love you.  Please fight; please hold on, little baby.”

That night, I fell asleep while I repeated the same thing over and over again in my head.

“God, please let my baby live.  God, please let my baby live.  God, please….”

The photo is sad irony. 

It is a perfect portrait of how I feel right now.

All I can hope for is for each new 24 hour passage to take me closer to whole again.

I’m scared.

The struggle is easy; letting go is hard.

I am struggling
not to feel empty inside.
It is not easy.

I am struggling
not to be angry right now.
It is not easy.

I am struggling
not to cry so I can breath.
It is not easy.

I am struggling
not to feel like I’m broken.
It is not easy.

I am struggling
to clear grey clouds from my heart.
It is not easy.

But I know that it
is not healthy to keep this
inside, so I won’t.

I am letting go.
I am allowing myself
time to just grieve now.

And I find that I
have these two guys to help me
clear grey clouds away.

Because Monsters are assholes.

The anniversary yesterday was lovely, and I thank you all for your lovely words and wishes on the post. 

The only crappy thing about the past couple of days is that I’m having a wicked arthritis flare-up, my upper back and neck are a mess of pain (don’t make me turn my head or I’ll hate you forever, plus or minus 3 days), and my left knee has a possible torn/degraded meniscus with edema (water buildup and swelling) that prevents me from bending it much at all.  YAY!

My advice to you is:

DON’T GET OLD.

Really. Stop aging right now! Yes, you there! STOP IT! It’s NOT good.

While I’m on the mend, this little girl makes me happy.  I have watched her video about eleventy-million times in the past couple of months, and I ALWAYS laugh.

What’s the funniest thing you’ve seen/heard a little kid (yours or someone else’s) do/say?