From Sweat to Snow...

On Friday it was quite windy, rainy, ugly here in Utah. I dropped Shane off at work, headed to Target for some groceries and by the time we came out of there, it was starting to look rather ominous and dark. We were driving along down Pioneer Crossing, getting ready to make our left turn onto 500 West when out of the corner of my eye, I see this adorable boxer dog prancing unaware across the intersection. He was almost hit by three cars, and honestly I don’t know how that dog made it to the other side alive, because the roads were slick and people were driving fast (as usual). He pranced his happy butt all the way to the other side, and started trotting down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. The last I saw of him was his rear in my rearview window…shaking my head and feeling like I seriously needed a Xanax for the almost heart attack I experienced at the sight of that dog almost getting hit three times in a row. 

I stopped and thought for a second though…how many times did my parents shake their heads and feel that way towards me as I pranced my way through teen years and into adulthood. Did they release a sigh of relief when I got married and thus became Shane’s “problem” or do they still shut one eye and grin and bear it as I continue to run across four lanes of traffic? 

Wait. I don’t do that. 

I guess what I mean is, like this stupid unaware dog, are other people watching me dodge and barely miss getting ran over by life’s cars, if you will, and will I do that with my kids? Yeah…I know I will. I do that right now, as Connor tries walking down stairs with toys in both hands, because I know how clumbsy that kid is…

It’s like life is a game of frogger where we are all trying not to get hit. In this case, I think the use of the word “dogger” was clever, so I am patting myself on the back for my cunning play on words, but basically maybe I am not so much smarter than this dog in the grand scheme of things. I dunno. Maybe I am just as stupid looking going through each day, to others I mean. Maybe they are shaking their heads at me and watching me trot down the sidewalk wagging my stubby tail. 

I sat talking with an old friend from school the other night, for more than an hour. She was one of my BEST friends in Jr. High and shared something with me that meant a lot to me; she is gay and has a partner, whom she has been with for 7 years. I was floored, but not by the news of her sexuality, but more so that she is proud of herself and owns who she is. She is nonjudgmental of others, and is a hard worker, and above all, still one of my friends all this time. 

Other friends are experiencing anxiety and worry this morning, as their most precious cargo undergoes surgery to correct some issues that developed quickly after birth. They struggled to get pregnant, and when they did, oh the joy and excitement. Now as first time parents, they are dealing with something that nobody but them can understand. We are all watching, waiting, and praying for them and their sweet baby girl. 

People I went to school with have had children, married, divorced, struggled with alcoholism and depression, struggled to start their own families due to infertility, and overall experienced life in ways that I can’t even begin to comprehend…and yet we are all the same people that graduated 10 years ago, but a different same. When we left the graduation ceremony that May 25, 2001, none of us knew what lay ahead. We were filled with hope and excitement to be done with high school. What new things would life bring our way!? Would we be rich? Would we fulfill our dreams of attending the college of our choice? Would we find our soul mate and begin life as a wife or husband, perhaps a mother or father? Some of us floundered and didn’t figure ourselves out for a few years. Some bore the burden of defending our great country, only to come back home to civilian life and feel the burden of post traumatic stress.

Wars, unplanned pregnancies, death; I am sure none of these things were possibilities, and yet deep down, I think (at least I did anyway) most of us felt uncertain and scared. We had lived in our little high school bubble for four years and all we knew was band, football, cheerleading, etc. None of us knew to expect the worse, and when our dear friend Josh Hargrove passed away suddenly in a car accident, it all hit at once…life.

Time has a funny way of distorting things and skewing reality. Were we really all that innocent? Perhaps not. All I know is that, now, after years of being grown-up and experiencing life I feel like I can relate more than ever to those people that I thought I knew back in high school. We are parents, we are husbands and wives, friends. This is what life is all about; supporting those that need it and offering our prayers when the reality of life happens upon us. 

We have all grown and changed with time, and that’s not a bad thing. We are who we are and should just accept one another for who we are or choose to be. Don’t judge. Let God be the final judge. Just pray and love and never forget who you are and where you came from. 

On days like today, I just feel surrounded and engulfed by negativity. I literally feel my insides buzzing and something feels completely off. I snap at my kids more easily, I smile less, and I find overall I am itching for a confrontation with whomever will give it to me. It’s opposite of everything I would like to be, and yet the control aspect is not there. 

I convince myself that I am worthless. I tell myself that nobody would notice if I were to disappear. Life seems to feel meaningless and void. It’s a sad place to be. I almost have a physical reaction to this turmoil swirling inside. My eye-lids twitch sporadically, my stomach hurts, I feel fatigued and have an insatiable appetite for all things junk food…some could chalk this all up to PMS but for me it goes deeper than that. Maybe I have that PPMD or whatever it is…it’s like PMS on steroids or something. Perhaps my lack of medication as of late is contributing to all of this. Perhaps I am just in a weakened state of mind and therefore I am more susceptible to the influences of Satan. Either way, it sucks (bad) and I want it to stop. I can’t concentrate, I can’t function, and I certainly can’t continue living this way. 

I try and tell myself it will all be OK but in the moment it doesn’t feel like it will be. The worth of my soul seems so miniscule in comparison with a thinner, more patient, more talented, etc. mom and wife. It’s not true, and yet my inner Heather chooses to not want to believe that. It’s a vicious cycle, and I hate it. 

What is the worth of a soul; the worth of my soul? 

I can only speak for myself in this regard; loss never gets easier for me. It only seems to grow with time, but in different ways. The loss of Jack’s twin, at the time it happened, was devastating. How could there have been two heart beats and then only one? Where did it go? Was it girl or boy? Was it something I did wrong? Was it “my” baby (spiritually speaking) and will I ever get to meet him/her?

I’ve had almost two years to think on these things, and I have come to my own conclusions and answers. At the same time, I have had a lot of time to imagine life with four kids instead of three. What could’ve happened with my eclampsia and all that after the fact? Would I of made it? Would I of been able to be here to help raise however many children I had? I can’t really answer these things because I don’t really want to go there to “what if” land. 

Today at church I saw a set of twins, one boy and one girl. Jack crawled over to them and for that one moment in time I felt such sadness over the loss of his twin. Life would have been awfully busy and hectic (more so than it already was) and yet I felt such grief over my baby that I never got to meet. I couldn’t hold my emotions in check so I had to go into an empty class room and cry until I felt better. It seems like the pain worsens with time, and here in Utah there are twins everywhere. It seems like I have seen more sets of twins while living here than ever before. I feel like it is rubbing salt in my wound whenever I see a family with twins, but it’s not their fault, and it’s not God’s fault. It happened because it did. That’s all I can say about it.

Anyway. This isn’t meant to guilt anyone into feeling sorry for me. I just felt like I needed to get my emotions out before they consumed me. I doubt this sadness will ever truly go away. It’s something I will have to work through each time I feel the sadness wash over me. I’ve at least come to terms with that.

When I think about how much suffering Jesus Christ had to endure on my behalf, I am brought to humility in a severe way. There is a video on YouTube called He is Risen and I’ve watched it three times already. There is something about the raw emotion behind the scene of Christ in the garden that makes my heart beat faster and my breathing to almost stall. 

He was alone. 

Moving is always hard on me emotionally. It’s funny with this most recent move though…I was telling myself it would happen and that it would be OK and I could get through it just like I have all those times in the past. I could never be a military spouse; their lives are in constant upheaval with moves across country, across seas. I’ve always had an unspoken admiration for those women that move across the ocean to Germany, and then turn around and have their spouse and partner leave them to join the forces in Afghanistan. How do you leave your family? Your country? To only then be alone.

I have had times of deep sorrow and depression since moving to Utah. It’s got nuthin’ at all to do with Utah, but the simple fact that it’s not Round Rock Texas. My home. My comfort zone. I have felt on the verge of total collapse some days, absolutely certain that I can not continue living here away from all my family and friends, whom I love so very much. Last week I spoke with my grandmother for about an hour on the phone. She sounded void of happiness and seemed so very sad. She has always been a strong person, never letting herself become emotional, but she cried while telling me about her sister’s failing health, how she’s lonely and depressed, and how much she misses us and wishes we were back in Texas. I hung up the phone, basically choking back tears, and felt completely alone. Hopeless. Sad.

Christ felt all these things, and more, in the garden of Gethsemani. He felt pain, anguish, depression, sadness, hopelessness, etc. He begged our Heavenly Father to let there be another way, and he was all alone during this physical and emotional anguish. How hard that must have been for our Father; to step back and allow this to happen, because it had to. Christ didn’t have to take on all our sins but he did, and because of Him, we can be with our Father in Heaven again. Watch this video and tell me you don’t feel something…I connected to the emotional aspect of it all and was in awe of everything He had to experience, because He loved me, and He loved you. What a gift; what a precious gift. 

He knows me. He knows my heart. He knows what I need/want and feels my pain when I think I can go no further. This comforts me to no end; someone understands me completely and utterly, and He can help me become better. This is soothing to my imperfect soul. 

Today is a hard day for me. I miss home, and my family, and my life back in Texas. Friday I found myself quite down in the dumps. I had the realization that I didn’t know when I would be able to get back to Texas. We will never have the money to fly all of us, and driving with three kids took us forever, so that’s not really an option at this point in our life, so when will I get back? I don’t know. That bothers me. 

I just want to be home right now. This sucks. 

I shouldn’t compare, honestly. It’s never a good thing to compare apples to oranges, because they aren’t the same fruit, yet each offer up their own sweetness and juice. Such is the case of my three children; each of them holds a special place in my heart. Each brings joy into our home and our lives. Each has their personalities that strengthen (and weaken) my resolve to be the best mother I can be. I love all three individually and boundlessly.

Hannah has such a sweet, kind, nurturing spirit. From the time she was born, she’s been cautiously independent. She thrives in situations where she is comfortable in her environment, yet struggles with new changes. She is my mini-me in more ways than one. She is sensitive and caring, understanding of more than I give her credit for, and honestly such a blessing in my life. She is a die hard daddy’s girl who loves her little brothers, despite their daily annoyances of course. She cares for those that others might view as “different” or “unpopular”. I love her bright smile, and when she is sick, it hurts me inside to know that she is in pain. Watching her be in the hospital for five days was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, especially when she broke down into tears and when probed to share her feelings, admitted to me that she just missed Connor and Jackson. Her precious heart is beautiful. I love her.

Connor, from day one, has had a personality bigger than his body. His delivery was comical, he peed in his own mouth minutes after delivery (have it on camera) and managed to pee and poop on me numerous times after we brought him home from the hospital. It was as if he was doing it all on purpose, to bring laughter and comic relief to our home. He still tends to be the funny one that gets away with (almost) murder from time to time. His big brown eyes are observant and soak up a lot of what goes unseen by my own eyes. He is fearless, to a fault even, and tends to be the one I picture having a broken arm in the near future. He worries me that he won’t listen, but he is such a good little guy. Deep down I know he was placed here on this earth for a purpose, as he can walk into the room and light it up with his smile. He loves people, he loves his sister, and most of all, loves his cars.

Jack is someone I am still trying to figure out. He is one and still not sleeping through the night. He loves me, so so much, and in fact probably places me in his “favorite” person category. He is serious and sensitive and when he feels I am upset with him, he takes it hard. He gives little looks and glances that tells me he is going to be my biggest teacher in this life. From his birth, he and I shared something special. He looked at me straight in the eyes right after they placed him on my chest and I stared into the soul of a being that was meant to be there in my arms right at that moment in time. I felt peace and comfort in knowing he was safely on the outside and that he knew me, without a doubt; he knew me. I hadn’t bonded that quickly with Hannah or Connor, but I felt something powerful in his eyes. I am so so thankful that he is here and he more than completes this family. He is my shadow and my biggest fan, and has no desire to let go of being a baby just yet. Turning one has meant nothing to him, and in a way, I find that comforting. He isn’t walking, and has now gained the title of “latest” walker of the three. He is simply content being on my lap, or in my arms, and that’s OK with me, for now.

I am awake because he decided to wake up crying. With him, I have found, it is just simply easier to give him a bottle so he can quickly fall back asleep. His personality doesn’t allow me the luxury of sleeping soundly through the night just yet…one day he will though, and I will miss it.

All of my babies are growing up and soon will no longer be just my babies. They will have wives and a husband, and babies of their own. I will enjoy this time while I can, trying hard to remember that these moments are fleeting. How quickly the last 7 years have gone by with my sweet Hannah…another 7 will come and go in the blink of an eye. I will make it a goal to not compare myself and my mothering skills to anyone else. I won’t compare Jack to his brother and sister, and likewise the other way around. I will try to cherish what I have in the here and now, and pray that when all is said and done, my relationship with my children will have grown and flourished because they knew how much I loved them all along.

March 21, 2011 was a life changing day for our family. I get overly emotional and anxious when I begin talking about it, so I try and make light of the situation by telling people who ask “when is the next one coming along” that the third, and last, child we had almost killed me. It usually extracts a chuckle or two until I say, “no really, he literally almost killed me.”

That day started out not in a usual manner. I woke up around 2 a.m. that morning with a splitting headache. I have never in my life felt such pain. I suffer from migraines pretty regularly, and this one was nothing like the others before it. I took some migraine meds and laid back down…nothing happened. The pain never lessened. I tossed and turned all night long. It was hell.

Shane had decided to stay home that day, which in hindsight was a blessing above all blessings. We had a few errands to run, such as a Sam’s club stop for diapers and formula, and a few other things. Jack was exactly one week and a day old; he was still in that sleepy newborn phase where they sleep all day and barely wake up to eat, before falling back asleep again. It makes running around with two kids much easier when one sleeps all throughout the trip. I had noticed an oddity to the headache, that had yet to let up by around 10 that morning…it would ease up almost completely when I was up walking around. The second I would sit or lie back down, it came back on full force. I kept Googling things about headaches after childbirth, and came to the ignorant conclusion that what I must be experiencing was a spinal headache due to the epidural delivered during labor. I had a really terrible experience with this particular anesthesiologist and ended up giving birth almost naturally, as the medication wore off just as it was time to have a baby. I was convinced that this must be what was occurring and that I should most likely give my doctors office a call, but in all honesty, I didn’t trust that office and hadn’t had the best of experiences with my overall care and well being during my pregnancy with Jack. Towards the end, my blood pressure became quite tricky and started going all over the place. I was told from about 34 weeks, on, that this baby was coming for sure THAT week, only to be told something different by two other doctors a week later, aka after the point of supposed induction should have occurred. I completely agree that keeping baby in as long as possible is always best; that I did not contend with. It was the back and forth from 4, yes 4, doctors that had my head spinning. I was on an emotional roller coaster and I wanted off. I just felt so anxious about the whole pregnancy to begin with, and started having panic attacks during the day that left me begging my heavenly father to please not let me die during childbirth. I felt something was going to happen, and told Shane so more than once. When the day finally came and passed, and I was alive and well, I began to feel like maybe I was overreacting and simply experiencing anxiety due to not taking my usual medication for depression.

About three days after I delivered, I began noticing that I didn’t feel quite right. I had experienced post partum healing twice before, and honestly after Connor felt like a million bucks the day after he was born, so I knew something was amiss. I had never had to take my Rx for pain medication and have it filled before, but this time I did. I started to feel like maybe I was becoming addicted to the Vicodin and that I should just stop taking them cold turkey. It didn’t help. I had a nervous break down in front of my parents the day they left to head back home (mom had been there the entire week after Jack’s birth) and was able to calm myself a little when my dad reassured me that I was OK. They left on a Saturday, and by the next day, I was back to feeling anxious and very doomsday about everything. My inlaws had come for lunch and I ended up going to lie down for a bit. That day was a bit of a blur.

Monday dawned and so did the unrelenting headache. My body hurt. Something was just not right. I went about my business, trying to decide if a call to the doctor was necessary. I was scheduled to be seen the following week, so I wasn’t sure if jumping the gun was completely in my best interest. The afternoon rolled around, and still the headache remained. Hannah returned home from school and I found myself feeling quite anxious again. Shane had decided to make a run to his office for some work, as he was thinking of just working from home the following day, therefore giving me one more day to recover and put off being home alone with the two boys.

He was planning on going with just Hannah, as Connor was napping and we didn’t want to wake him. Just as he was about to step out of the door, Connor woke up, and I decided at the last second to just all jump in the car and go with him. We could stop by Sonic for Happy Hour and then show off baby Jack to the co-workers. As is customary in our house, I drove, and off we went. Sonic is on the way, right off of McNeil, and just before highway 183. I swung the Explorer into the stall and ordered our drinks. Jack’s head was flopped over in the carseat, so I asked Shane to get out and see if he could tend to Jack. 

I remember when I opened my eyes, feeling Shane holding my face and head steady. I was looking down at the console…he kept telling me to be still. From there I don’t remember much; it was foggy. I do remember staring into the face of a man I had never seen before. I heard a loud engine. He asked me if I could stand and walk to the Ambulance. I shook my head yes, and went to stand. I don’t remember walking or climbing in, or anything other than how cold the interior of that Ambulance was. I saw Shane’s eyes, wide, with fear looking at me. I think he asked me if I knew his name, and I think I answered him. I asked him what happened and he told me “you had a seizure.”

I started to cry and then inaudible angry words from the EMT to Shane as he slammed the door. I felt pain in my arm as he stuck me with my IV. We started to drive and the brakes were bad on the Ambulance. I remember thinking, in my foggy state, “why don’t you fix those brakes? That can’t be safe.”

I felt so out of it, and I don’t know if they gave me something to calm me or if it was just the after effects of the seizure. I felt scared, and wanted my husband. Never once did I think of my kids, which still kind of saddens me to this day. It’s like for that one moment in time, they didn’t even exist to me. It was probably best, as I would have been more anxious and upset. The idea of not being there for my kids when they were scared would have burdened my heart further. As it is right now, typing this, I find myself straining through tears and anxiety just getting the thoughts out.

I was brought back to the same hospital as I delivered at and was able to remember who my doctor was. I couldn’t remember my name or much of anything else, but that one important detail made all the difference. My OB came into the emergency room and talked to Shane and me, but I don’t remember much about that. I just know that I felt more calm because Shane had arrived. Again, I wasn’t thinking about the kids…so strange to me even to this day.

Eclampsia is a disease that strikes suddenly. It’s rare, as most cases are prevented by proper care during pregnancy. The term pre-eclampsia probably strikes a cord with most women who have experienced it. Babies are born premature because of this disease. Women die because of this disease. When it moves from being a pre-condition to full on eclampsia, life is threatened. Just to give you some stats, according to preeclampsia.org, it occurs in approximately 5-8% of all pregnancies.

HELLP syndrome is a condition of eclampsia and is life threatening. This is what happened to me. To read more on this, please visit THIS website and arm yourself with information. I want to prevent this from happening to anyone out there reading this. To have this happen AFTER childbirth is even more rare. It happened to me, and it can happen to you. It was scary, and has caused a lot of unwanted extra anxiety in my life. There are times that I won’t leave my house for fear of driving in the car with my kids. I was driving that day; the Lord blessed me with angels and I was not only stopped, car engine off, but I was buckled in to my seat and unharmed physically by the seizure. Minutes up the road would have meant us driving on the highway, and that didn’t happen, but it doesn’t always stop my mind from wondering to “what if” land from time to time. Reliving that day is hard, but it’s part of me now and has defined me in a lot of ways. Life can be taken so quickly, and I really don’t know why I was spared. I could have died, we all could’ve, and didn’t. I try and live life with an attitude of gratitude, but it’s not always easy. On my bad days, I think it would have just been better to have died.

Admitting these things is the hardest part of all of this. I look at Jack and the feelings bubble up, threatening to take over my mind and unwilling to let me loose of it’s grips. Anxiety is not my friend, and I wish I could not have issues with it, but I do. I live with all these things, and though it’s become more spaced out, even sitting in a Sonic stall sometimes can trigger severe panic attacks in me.

It’s like living in a box that doesn’t have holes, so I feel suffocated and at the edge of reality. Then I am yanked back down and look into the faces of my three, healthy, beautiful children, and I am thankful…that I didn’t die that day in March. I am still here and need to love the blessing of a second chance.

I will probably never be free of the burden of anxiety, but it’s OK. I’ve come this far, and I can keep going. I have to.