Sorrow, Grattitude and Healing

By Lacey Gunter

This was the day I was planning to announce some exciting news to all my lovely ladies on MMW.  My husband and I have been trying for another child for nearly four years. I was so surprised when I got that first positive pregnancy test that I really didn't trust it. I trusted that for the moment my body was in the process of pregnancy, but I scarcely trusted it would stay that way. I was just getting close to letting myself believe in it before I found myself being rushed to the ER, fighting off the first symptoms of traumatic shock.

I am not writing this blog post to elicit sympathy, quite the contrary. I am ready to move on from sympathy, to find hope and healing.  I am writing this post first and foremost because I think it will be cathartic.  Writing out in physical form the experiences and emotions that beset us can often give us a source of power and freedom over them. I am also writing this post in hopes that maybe even one person out there can benefit from hearing my experience and find greater healing.

I have been remarkably blessed with three beautiful children. My heart goes out so much to my fellow sisters who are on the harrowing road of fighting to bring even one child into this world. I acutely recognize my over abundance of blessings in this arena. I also recognize that most people in our Westernized cultured believe that having three children is already too much. I fully acknowledge both of these viewpoints as I try to share my experience without offending.

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My husband and I had come to a point of acceptance. So I was pretty reluctant to take that first pregnancy test. Why dig up hope only to have it crushed again? But my monthly cycle was nowhere to be found and I couldn't very well contact my doctor to inquire about the problem without having checked first. So I took the test, and to say I had mixed emotions at the result would be an understatement. My husband's reaction was much the same.  We agreed not to tell anyone else yet.

The next month was like a slow roller coaster ride. Some of the symptoms that were usually present with previous pregnancies were diminished or slower to develop. We tried to stay on guard with our emotions, but the days ticked on. So I conceded on some levels, like getting an OB lined up. Then there were the episodes of pain. I thought my digestive track was just acting up and I didn't want to be that naive kind of pregnant woman who thinks pregnancy should be pain free and effortless. So I just sucked it up and tried to bear them gracefully. After all, I didn't want God to think I wasn't grateful for this potential gift he seemed to be dangling in front of me. Yet, they were painful enough to incapacitate me for hours at a time. Still, I seemed to remain pregnant and we both started to hope that maybe this would work out.

During my 9th week, I had a particularly bad Sunday. The morning had started out okay, but a little  after breakfast I was laid out in bed again with a lot of pain. I vowed never to eat that breakfast again as I mustered the strength to beat it and drag myself to church with my kids.  I made it through most of church when the pain began to return. This was new. I had never had more than one episode of pain in a day. It had both me and my husband more than a little concerned. I laid in bed for a long while trying to get a handle on it when I started to have some light spotting.  This is what I had figured we had been waiting for all month, so I resigned myself to an imminent miscarriage, glad that at least the physical pain would be over soon. Apparently my husband had already committed to this pregnancy and was much more reluctant to think so negatively.

We debated much of the rest of the day about whether to go somewhere or call some one, but I didn't really want to be told I was just having a miscarriage and should just go home and try to relax. After a few hours the pain seemed to subside again and the spotting had only been minimal, so we contacted no one and I decided to just do some light chores to try and get my mind off things.

Around 10 pm the pain came back with a vengence.  I could scarcely manage and our debate about what to do started again. We both went back and forth until my husband finally told me he would leave the decision up to me and support me on whatever I decided.  I tried to get up too see if there was more spotting and quickly realized this pain was too serious to ignore. So my husband got all the kids out of bed and loaded them up as I waddled to the car and we sped off to the ER.

We got checked in quick, as I figured we would be. Both the ER staff and I were convinced this was probably an ectopic pregnancy. I thought everything else would go quick as well; quick examination, quick ultrasound, quick rush to the OR and quick surgery.  It did not.

Every step in the process was controlled, deliberate and thorough. No one wanted to make any mistakes. Multiple people had to look over the ultrasound evidence and agree on the same diagnosis. I was interviewed extensively about my past medical history and current symptoms.  Several other tests were conducted. Finally they were convinced it was a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. They took their time prepping me for surgery. Then they were compelled to take their time correcting the problem during  surgery due to some unforeseen complications of a prior cesarean section.

All in all, they were able to get things sewed up sufficiently, but l lost my right tube and a lot of blood in the process. I was given 3 blood transfusions, which helped stabilized my vitals, but lead to a lot of swelling all over my body.

The recovery was very slow and very difficult at first. I couldn't even lay down to sleep because it caused so much pain and difficulty breathing. I remember early on thinking how painful and challenging all this was with no baby to show for it.  Eventually, though, my pain and swelling did go down and I am surprised and grateful for how well I am doing now. The only symptom that seems to be lingering is that I am tired all the time. The doctor said I would feel more energetic once I had built up the blood they didn't replace.

I wish I could say the sorrow goes away as quickly, but it's not quite that way. Sometimes I just want to sleep all day. I could tell myself it was simply from exhaustion,  but I know some of it is wanting to avoid the emotional reality of what I am going through. It is hard to escape thinking about it a good portion of my waking hours.

Every now and then, though, I experience moments of deep gratitude and hope. I am grateful that medical technology could save me and help me to heal so quickly. I am grateful that people were willing to donate blood to save my life. I am grateful for the service and kindness of others during this difficult time. And I am grateful for the beautiful smiling faces of my children and our tender moments together.

I am hopeful that maybe we can get pregnant again. It happened once, so maybe it will happen again. Either way, I hope I can learn what God wants me to learn from this experience and become a better person.

For anyone else out there experiencing this or something similar, I pray that you may also find hope and healing. You are not alone. God bless.

A Clean Start

by Mare Ball @ ADVENTURES IN THE BALLPARK

I like to think I honor God in all aspects of my life.  I'm pretty clear about how He wants to me live, and I have been for most of my adult life.  Lately, however, I've discovered I've made some choices mindlessly - choices I didn't think God cared much about. And I'm paying for them now.

I'm talking about food choices. I never thought much about my diet, only that I probably ate too much.  Like every woman on the planet, I've had moments of "that's it, I'm getting rid of this extra weight. I'm joining the gym, blah, blah, blah." And I've lost 10 or 15 pounds.  Then I get lazy, and it all comes back.

In December, I had blood work done that showed I have very high blood markers for rheumatoid arthritis (in addition to fibromyalgia, which I was diagnosed with in May.) This was shocking, as I have no swollen or painful joints - just bad blood work. After getting conflicting reports from rheumatologists in my area, I ended up at the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, FL. The doc there suggested I start meds right away, because it looks as though RA is coming.

I did tons of research on RA and read a book called The Inflammation Nation, which was completely eye-opening, and changed my thinking on what I've been eating all my life. RA (and fibro) is an inflammatory disease where the immune system is on overdrive. It's constantly on the attack, which eventually destroys joint tissue.  Untreated, or uncorrected, people with RA can end up in wheel chairs.

I'm also reading The Daniel Plan by Rick Warren, a book about honoring God and our bodies by getting back on track with food - eating whole foods, real food, and getting the junk and processed food out of our lives. I well up as I read parts of it because I'm realizing how misguided my eating pattens have been.  I've not been fueling my body, but poisoning it with things like sugar and too many carbs and "white trash" like white rice, white bread and white potatoes. I've simply been a mindless eater.  Not a conscious one.

I'm praying God will change my thinking on this, because RA is caused by inflammation, which is caused by sugar, the wrong kinds of carbs and "white trash." I didn't know.  I'd heard some of these things before, but I didn't have any health issues - until now - so I just figured I was doing OK.

My Mayo doctor told me I have three months to change my diet and see if we can get my blood work back to normal. By the grace of God, I don't have any joint issues yet, and I'm hoping I can turn things around before I do. 

So, I gave away the boxed, processed items in my pantry. The bulk of my grocery bill is now produce.  I have leaves and sprouts popping out of my 'fridge the moment you open its door. I've discovered I like rutabagas, pea shoots, parsnips, bok choy and Japanese sweet potatoes, things I never tried before. I've learned I don't like turnips and will not be buying those again. I try to have some form of kale every day. 

In overhauling my diet, I've realized this is a spiritual journey for me. Eating was an area of my life I never asked God about. Rick Warren sums up the problem in one sentence: Dedicate your body to God.  Period.

If I do that - daily - I will eat properly. I will feed my body with what it needs to stay strong and healthy. The Daniel Plan reminds me that my body does not belong to me. It was purchased at a price, and God gave it to me to use in the service of others. This never hit me so hard as it has recently.  God has given me a wake up call,  and I pray I correct my course. My family is supportive, for which I'm so grateful.

I found a great cook book called Clean Start (you can read about that HERE) that I'm working my way through, and I've found many recipes we are enjoying.  There are even a couple treats included that are pretty good. 

I have not had a life-changing event such as this in many years, and I regret I did not pay attention to my diet 20 years ago.  Thankfully, we have a God who gives us second chances.

CFS and Fibro: Oh, The Things I'm Learning

by Mare Ball at ADVENTURES IN THE BALLPARK

I've had a puzzling, interesting, disappointing, and then hopeful few weeks.  I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia a week ago.

I suspected it, but didn't want to hear it.  For seven months, I've been dealing with joint pain, muscle aches, serious fatigue and no energy.  I kept pushing through it, which, I learned later, made things worse.  Since the diagnosis, I've been reading this book and learning things that give me hope.

1.  Fibro is an extension of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS.)  Being deprived of good, restorative sleep (REM sleep) for a long period of time sets the groundwork for fibromyalgia.  (I've not slept well since I had children, thirty years ago!)

2.  One aggravating factor in fribro is inflammation.  Sugar is an inflammatory agent.  AUGH!!  I have to start viewing sugar as a toxin to me.  No more cupcakes.

3.  Other factors in fibro are hormonal imbalances.  Thyroid and adrenal glands, in particular.  The standard blood tests for thyroid are not effective in determining thyroid malfunction.

4.  Stress is a factor.  (Stress is a factor in everything nowadays.)  Not sure I can do much about this one.

5.  Exercise is important, even if painful.  UGH.  I have slacked off on the gym these past few months because, who wants to use muscles that hurt?  It also wears me out, which feeds into the fatigue piece.

6.  The root problem is the hypothalamus, which Dr. Teitelbaum writes, "has blown a fuse."  It's exhausted and depleted and is no longer managing the body's systems correctly.  By the time the aches and pains manifest, the system has been offline for awhile. 

7.  The good news is that restorative REM sleep can help heal the hypothalamus and get it back to running properly.

I'm only a week into this, but I'm optimistic that there is recovery for fibromyalgia, even though sufferers are always susceptible to flare-ups.  I'm working on finding natural sleep aids; I'm cutting my sugar intake; I'm trying natural supplements for pain.  At a July doctor's appointment, I'm going to request more extensive thyroid testing.

I've not felt well for the past seven months, and there is some relief in finally getting an answer.  But, it's discouraging too, knowing I have to make many changes in my lifestyle.  I'm too old to start over!

I know God is bigger than fibromyalgia, and I know He's beside me with this challenge, but I have to say, I look forward to the day when this body no longer dictates how I must live.  I'm glad this "EARTH SUIT" is temporary.

Do you know anyone with fibro?  This book would be a great gift to them.  

Unprovoked Blessings

This week I posted on my (admittedly) seldom-used Mommy BLOG about an amazing gift my Heavenly Father gave me. And because I usually post about the "writer" side of this blog, I'm going to spend a few minutes talking about the "Mormon" and "Mommy" parts. :) You'll probably want to read about my experience and then come back to this page and finish my post here.

Go ahead. I'll wait.

Ready? Ok.

I don't talk about my miscarriage much because it's not something I like to dwell on--just like I don't talk about being robbed at gunpoint when I was 20 or being inappropriately touched by a member of the family I was babysitting for when I was 18. These are negative things. They happened--I dealt with them and moved on. I credit my faith with that. But still, these experiences helped to mold and shape me into who I am today. And, sometimes, it's something you need to talk about.

We named her Lily. She'd actually died at about 8 to 10 weeks, but we didn't know until I started spotting and went to see the doctor. He did one of those invasive ultrasounds and saw that there was a body, but no heartbeat.

I will never forget the image on the monitor of my still, silent baby. It was July 17, 2002.

The doctor offered me the choice of going through the procedure to have the baby's body removed or to wait and let my body expel her on its own. Neither idea appealed much but I couldn't stand the idea of her tiny body dropping into the toilet on some unsuspecting day. So we opted for the procedure.

When we went to the hospital later that night, the nurse gave me something that would "fog my mind" so that I wouldn't remember the procedure. It didn't work.

I remember everything. I remember the sound of the machine as it sucked her from me. I remember looking into my husband's face because he was trying to keep my mind engaged so I wouldn't focus on what was happening. I also don't believe my daughter's body becoming medical waste is much better than it becoming sewage. But first trimester miscarriages are common--almost normal--so I didn't think to ask if there were any other options.

The doctor assured me I was healthy, that these things "just happen," and that I'd likely go on to have healthy pregnancies after this. I was even right on target with statistics, since one in every 4 (or 5, I don't remember which he said) pregnancies end in miscarriage, and that was my fourth pregnancy. My daughter Rianne was born a couple years later.

So while I get to confuse every doctor when they ask my medical history (I have had 5 pregnancies, I have 5 children, but I had one miscarriage--because my second pregnancy was twins), beyond that it almost never comes up.

Until this week. Until my vision. Until I met her.

I had lingering questions. I wondered about her. I wondered if we could really, truly count someone who's heartbeat I've never heard or felt as part of our family. I know now. God has granted me this incredible, unexpected gift, and I am so very grateful I fail to find the words to adequately express it.

Best of all, I know Lily is safe. I know she is favored and protected and I don't have to worry about her. I worry constantly about my children here on earth, and it's kind of a relief to know I don't have to harbor those same concerns about my heavenly daughter.

And I can still remember how it felt to hold her in my arms (in my vision). It was such a real, tangible experience I can't simply call it a dream.