Breathe in. Breathe out.

The carousel never stops. Life is like that. It doesn't stop to say "sorry",   "excuse me for messing up your plans" or even "hope you can handle this pile of garbage I just gave you."

I have been bitter for far too long. Bitter that my children's childhood has been stained for me. Bitter that my normal is a regular persons sick day. Bitter that my days are about choices and balance and picking and choosing what I can or CANNOT do.  Bitter that a family vacation comes with a long list of necessary items just to not end up in the hospital. Bitter that when I say "I'm ok"  I'm almost always lying and under this made-up face,  I simply wish people knew how I really felt. 

But that's not how I want to be remembered. I don't want to be the one who couldn't see the beauty surrounding me. In the funk I've so fiercely simmered in the last two days, it has left me with eyes wide open. Yes, I have limitations. Yes, I want to do more than I can. Yes, my life is different. But I am above ground and not below it. I am breathing and even though sometimes even that hurts, my heart is still beating. Despite the uncountable times this heart has been broken for whatever reason, it keeps beating. I'm taking a lesson from this heart. It just keeps going. And even though at times it lets everyone know that some things just aren't right, it doesn't give up just because it had a bad day. That's how I hope to be remembered. Not willing to ever give up and at least trying to smile through the pain. 

So for now I'll breathe in, breathe out, and enjoy the fact that I can watch my babies grow and love them until they cannot stand it. 

For in this moment, this is the carousel I'm riding. 

When the day bleeds tears.

Sometimes the darkness becomes so thick that the sunshine is left fighting in the shadows to be seen.

Sometimes my head becomes so filled with unnecessary thoughts that it pushes the relevant ones out. 

Sometimes the days are so short, leaving the nights to drag on and on. 

Sometimes the pain in my heart simply makes no sense, yet there it lives. 

Sometimes on days like today, I wake up feeling ok. As evening approaches and my fatigue is more than real, I am grasping to retain some sanity. I'm striving to hold on to the kindness my heart yearns to give, but by this time my kindness is clouded by the pain. Both in my figurative heart and in my physical body. 

The day has brought many unexpected surprises. Two little girls that are, for whatever reason, insanely needy for their mother. What is it exactly? Do they sense something? I am good at putting on a face, real good. Unless you are the one man in my life who holds the key to my heart, and the matching ring to my finger - you likely won't know anything is up if I don't want you to. But today my neck is throbbing, my head reminds me of it's presence by the random knocking pain and my elbows feel like someone is stabbing a razor sharp knife through them. Yet my babies are sucking the last bit of energy that I have out of the marrow of my bones. And I am happy to give it.  But at some point, I'm not going to have anything left to give. And that is scary. When will that point come? 

Right now I would be happy to lay face down on the ground and not move a muscle while listening to the wallflowers "one headlight" blasting in the background, so I can feel comforted by someone else's emotions poured out in the form of a song that has moved me since I was a teenager. 

But I can't. Life must go on. The smiles must be smiled, the tears forced back, and the mommy mode on in full fashion...... Well, "with one headlight." 

"There has got to be something better than in the middle" , where I am presently stuck. Stuck and sinking in the mud that is so dirty that I am left suffocating in it's lather. My insides yearn to be so much more but my body commands something else, leaving my brain to over think every possible thing. At what point will it stop tormenting me? 

Someday it will happen. Someday. 

Acceptance has begun.

You may know me from growing up together. Or maybe you know me from more recent times. Perhaps you don't know me at all and have just stumbled on my blog by chance, maybe by the fact that we have something in common. Either way, there may be things you don't know about me, because I am still trying to figure it out myself. Each day that I wake up, starts off with a big question mark running through my mind. What is it going to be like today? Will I feel my age for once? Or will I continue down the painful path of feeling 70 before I'm even 30? Before I even make my first move in the morning,I start to dread what will become of it. Will I hurt today? Some days I fumble out of bed, find my way downstairs to my first cup of coffee, and the day begins without a hitch. And then some days, I practically fall back asleep while drinking my second cup of coffee, struggle to simply make it through an average day, only to collapse into my bed again.

A few years ago one of my doctors said to me, "I don't want to say you have fibromyalgia before I know you really do, because so many people shape their lives around having it." I appreciated that comment at the time..... There was no way I was going to become one of those people. I just wanted answers. If fibromyalgia was what I had, I would be happy with the diagnoses and able to move on with life. --- or would I? Well, 5 years later after many, many doctors and second opinions, they all agree that for now, I have fibromyalgia.

I was a brand new mom, my baby girl was only 7 months old. I had my issues, but things that were passing. I had surgery two months before for a large ovarian cyst that had twisted my fallopian tubes. Right before my surgery, we bought and moved into our first home. One month after my surgery, my husband was diagnosed with a brain cyst after a scary visit to the ER. So I suppose one could say, I experienced some of life's most stressful events, all within a few short months.I have tried to re-live those few months over and over again in my head, questioning what exactly put my body over the edge. Was it the surgery or the medications used? Was it the fact that I recently had a baby and was dealing with obviously messed up hormones? Was it the extreme stress I felt when I wasn't sure of my husbands future? But even after all those questions are asked, there is nothing I could do to change the past. If I could go back in time, I couldn't avoid the surgery that I desperately needed, I couldn't change the fact that my husband had an unknown arachnoid brain cyst likely from childhood, and I definitely would never change having our first child, or buying our simple little home where we still raising our little girls.
So clearly stuck in the past, I needed to move forward. But moving forward, meant accepting what they say I have, and figuring out how to live with it. With that being said, acceptance has been a difficult journey for me........but figuring out how to live a normal life is a ongoing process.

Now a mom of two and still under 30, on my difficult days happiness comes slowly. Bitter at times, looking behind at who I use to be, leaves me weak when looking forward. And that is what I struggle with on a day to day basis. Just trying to be normal. Just trying to feel good. Trying to stay positive. Pretending to feel good for my family, for my husband who worries, and for my girls who should have a normal 29 year old mother.

This is the attempt to not let fibromyalgia define who I am as a person.
I am not the disease, I am so much more than that. I can do this.

One amazing day.

People all over the world have many different definitions of what an amazing day is. When you're young that day might be the day you get your drivers license. Or maybe a few years later, its the day the love of your life proposes to you. And then comes the day that you get to marry the love of your life. Those are all truly amazing moments in life. But for me, the most amazing day, was when I became a mother. And I've been able to experience that amazing day, twice. It's a day filled with victory and accomplishment. It's a day that as a mother, you push life out, a day that another heart is born, a day that a whole other person comes into this world.

My baby girl meeting her baby sister for the first time.

I kind of thought I knew completely, what that day was all about, after all, I had pushed two little babies out at different times in my life. But there was a part of me that felt something was missing. It was one thing to be the one giving birth, your so focused on the job at hand, the work to be done, the baby to see, the fingers to count and the stares and gazes to have. That is all amazing in itself. But what is it like if you're not the one who just gave birth? I never really understood why my mother-in-law sobbed after our first daughter was born. Why cry? Everything was fine, everything went great, why all the tears? She has often said it meant a lot for her to be there, and until recently, I could never truly appreciate her feelings. To her, it was an amazing day.

Which brings me to my most recent amazing day. It's always been on my bucket list to see a baby born. I'm not easily grossed out, and since I've been through it, I was quite honestly, curious how it looks on the other side. My dear friend, who was expecting twins, invited me to be there when she had her babies. I was anxious, I was nervous, yet I was excited beyond words. I was worried I would get in the way, I was worried I would be annoying, and I was really worried that I would somehow miss it. But I put those fears behind me and prepared myself as much as one could for the big day. I became Google happy, looking up as much as I could on how to be a good support for a woman in labor. I learned about being a doula, and how a strong support system is the best way to get a woman through a successful labor & delivery. But in the end, I looked back on my own experience. The words of my husband and mother still echo in my head: "You're doing great Ashley, I know it hurts, but you're doing it." Even though I didn't know it, with simply those memories burned in my brain, I was already prepared.

Then the text message finally came,  "I think my waters leaking." It was almost to hard to believe that time might actually be here. It was a Sunday night, around 6:15. Could it be that time already?  She was almost 36 weeks, good for twins, but still early, and that was a cause for concern. After a couple hours of back & forth texting, calls to the doctor, and googling how to know if your water is leaking, to the hospital we headed.  Within 15 minutes of walking into hospital, it was confirmed that she was indeed, in labor. Now came the anxiety, followed with many more questions. How long would she be in labor, are the babies in position? Her doctor was not on call, and now she was dealing with a doctor who she had never even met. Would he even let her try to deliver the twins, or would he be a cut-happy doctor in a hurry to get back to bed? A quick meeting with the doctor, and an
ultrasound confirming the babies were not breach, provided all of us, but especially my friend, some time to relax and feel peace over the fact that he was not in a hurry to rush her to the O.R. but would let things go as naturally as possible. 


As the symptoms of true labor began to set in and her body began doing its job and preparing for birth, the memories of my labor and delivery of our second baby, only 15 short months ago quickly came to mind and made her every contraction all to real to me. And knowing how deep that pain runs, I was willing and ready to help her any way possible. But in the end, it was the support of her husband that got her through each and every contraction. Not letting him out of her sight, and him not leaving her side except once to use the bathroom (And only after asking her if she would be ok for that moment), he was the one who got her through each and every contraction. I don't think I will ever forget the picture of those two. She often said "I need your strength, I need your solid."  So with that, along with many cold washcloths, non-stop fanning,  firm back compressions, her little baby girl entered the world in a hot hurry.  She didn't even wait for the doctor to completely enter the room. It was as if in that moment, time stood still for a few seconds. Nurses, me, her husband, all kind of stood there in amazement, or probably more like shock. Finally, the doctor spoke breaking our trance, saying "Ok guys, lets get this baby!" 
                                
I took as many pictures as I could to help document it for my friend, but unexpectedly, my hands were shaking, and at this point I'm not even sure I was still taking breaths. I tried to calm myself and focus on the current moment, but a beautiful new little person was just born, and she is perfect, she is simply amazing.

Bristol Faith

 

We waited rather impatiently for baby girl's brother to appear. I watched studiously, as the doctor did what he did, and started to say things of concern.When he requested that the baby have a monitor placed on his head, I remember at that moment, feeling my heart sink, feeling worry, true, sincere worry. Subconsciously, at this point, I am now seriously regretting all the TLC baby stories that I watched for years. "Stay calm, it will be ok", kept silently repeating in my head. Though the doctor remained very calm through this all, he had a look of concern. And then he uttered the words we hoped to never hear, "prep the O.R.". I hated the fact that my heart knew it was headed there before he even said it. I remained hopeful though, perhaps the doctor was just being extra careful, maybe that little boy will still make his way out, the all natural way. But that little boy was stuck. With his arm over his head (probably protecting himself from his sister's quick kick-off), he was not coming out,  not that way anyway. They told her husband to get suited up, as they quickly whisked my friend off to the O.R. And there we sat waiting.

 Me, on the floor of the hospital right outside the O.R. door (And anyone who knows me, knows I don't sit on hospital floors, ever. ewww!)  and her husband left standing there wondering, what's next? We quietly waited, as we watched nurses, and doctors, running down the hall towards the O.R. that she was in. One doctor ran down the hall , threw his jacket off, demanded to be suited up & rushed himself into the O.R., followed by another doctor who didn't even completely suit up. I sat there numb. I watched as her husband walked away, down the hall, and took some time to himself. I said a prayer. I started to cry.

 Soon after that, a nurse appeared, she informed us that her husband would not be allowed in the O.R. at this point, and we would soon hear the baby cry. For one to two long minutes, give or take some time, as time seemed to be the enemy at this point, we waited. Pacing. Not saying anything in anticipation of hearing the baby. And then we heard him, baby boy was screaming with his all. He let everyone know his discontent with his method of entry into this world. But he was here, breathing, crying and beautiful. It wasn't long after that they brought him out, and his father held him for the first time. To be the one to witness that, was in a word, amazing.

Meeting Wyatt, his little warrior, for the first time.

 

It seemed like forever while we waited for my friend to be done in surgery. We stared at the babies, took pictures, walked up & down the halls, moved to another room, talked with the doctors, paced some more, waited some more, and finally.... She was done in surgery and taken to recovery. After some more time waiting, they allowed us in. She was emotional, confused, and in a lot of pain. But after some time, and pain killers, her mind cleared and she was ready for her babies.


So 2 long hours after her baby girl came rushing in the world, and her little boy took the slower route in, she finally met her babies. It was a beautiful sight. There she laid, holding her newborn twins, looking left to right.....right to left. Examining her newborn babies every feature. Even at one point saying, she simply didn't know who to look at.

So in conclusion, of this "ridiculously long" blog, as my husband put it, no matter how many words I try to use to express the feelings in my heart, words just cannot describe how grateful, and changed I am from this experience. Seeing a baby born, seeing a baby in possible distress, and seeing my good friend quickly rushed off to the O.R. causes one, or at least, caused me- to feel feelings I had not yet experienced. I feel older now, in the best way possible. I thought I always appreciated life in its fullest form, but I appreciate it even more. To me, and I know to my friend & her husband, that was truly an exciting, scary, emotional, and most simply,  amazing day.

Wyatt & Bristol
September 17th, 2012