Letter Series Vol. 1 // A Letter To My Sons

I just can't seem to find it in my heart tonight.

I know I was meant to battle through this time and for a purpose, but as I look at photos of my boys the "reason" for going through this doesn't bring me solace as I lay in the hospital bed away from them.

My heart and soul are 40 miles away from me tonight, but feel 5000. I can't bare to think about how I haven't seen them since Monday or that they can't come up here to see me everyday because it puts other patients with low immune systems at risk.

I know that life isn't fair. I just can't find it in my heart to push through these feelings tonight. I'm not as strong as I sound on paper [or technically] your screen.

I can push through some emotions and utilize my acceptance for what is, but I can't do it tonight. I can only think of them--my precious babies.

That's all that's on my mind tonight.

I can't help but feel the burden that I'm forcing onto others for having to care for my children that bore into this world. It's not OK with me.

People shouldn't have to care for MY babies. I should be able to do that. I should be able to care for them.

There is nothing more precious in this life than to become a parent, and this disease [or any serious illness, for that matter] can take that away from you.

So here I lay in a hospital bed in Dallas with three more days of chemo left and another two weeks or more stuck in his dungeon. OK, this dungeon is much better than the where I did my first round of chemo in November, but it's still a dungeon if you can't get out into the light and feel fresh air on your face.

I'm laying here... eyes closed and typing away (and yes, I can type with my eyes close because I'm a bad ass). Anyway, ahem, like I was typing with my eyes closed, I'm imagining feeling the air on my face and watching Brody run around outside on a sunny day much like he did on Sunday, the day before I committed to being in this place.

I picture holding baby Bex and kissing the sweetest little nose and smile, I've ever seen. I just want that baby-smell to intoxicate me again. It's crazy that a smell can make everything melt away and keep me calm and content with where I am.

--

[[A letter to my sons]]

Hi, my lovely babies.

Today is day 4 I've been away from you and it may not feel like it for you two, but it feels like an eternity on my end. I miss your snuggles, your smiles, your giggles, and your smell--except for when you go number two... Bro, Bro, you know I'm talking to you. Shewwwwwweeeeee. Stinky poo poo.

But despite what comes out of both of your rear-ends, I'd deal with it to just be home with you again.

Brody, I miss your loud "zombie-acting" skills and watching Bex smile when he hears that the "Zombie is coming to get me."

You two are the most precious things to me. I'm just so thankful that I chose the best daddy for you two. He does everything mommy does, if not more. Probably more. It's more, guys. There I admit it. He does more. He does it all. And he is the best daddy in the whole world, that I can promise you.

You know I may not have known that this was going to happen to me, but I definitely felt something was off in my bones. About half my way through my pregnancy with Bex, I felt a fear in my heart I'd never felt and terror swarmed around me.

Questions popped in my head:

"What if something terrible happens to me or the baby during this pregnancy?"
"What would we do if something is wrong with the baby?"
"What if I leave my Bro behind?"

I feared for the unknown.

But when his cancer decided to show its face to us, it fortunately impacted me and my life and not jeopardize the life of my second baby, boy Bex.

Bex, you don't know it yet or have any clue, but you saved mommy's life when you started to grow in my belly. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been getting routine check-ups and regular blood work done. I wouldn't have found the cancer as quickly as we did if you weren't in there growing inside of me.

Just three days after seeing the hematologist, I went to the hospital because you were kicking and causing spasms in my lower back that weren't normal. You were trying to tell me to go to the doctor to get checked out. And I did.

Essentially, I didn't expect to have you a week later, nor did I expect to get the news I got the very next day--mommy is very sick with AML If it hadn't been for your rocking around like a crazy person in womb, I wouldn't have went back to the doctor that week. Everything about my treatment would have been pushed back another week, another day, another hour and it all seems like too much time when your trying to fight for your life.

It wasn't until you came out and I saw the knot in your cord that I realized I helped save your life too. I had a placenta-hormone issue we discovered early on in the pregnancy that had us already monitoring you closely. There was a chance the placenta could give out before birth and you'd stop growing and getting the nutrients you needed to survive. But kowing that while you were still my tummy, and then seeing the pretzel-tied knot in your cord solidified your reason for being here on Earth as much as mine.

You were supposed to arrive 10 weeks early.
You weren't supposed to go full-term.
That's not who you are, Bex.
You were ready for this world the minute you started to sprout inside of me.
You were never going to wait.
You were going to beat to your own drum and you did, bud.

You pounded on my back to get mommy help--to save me. You did that. You saved me. And because you saved me, I kinda saved you too I suppose. Though, technically you probably saved yourself; just go ahead kid, you can have the credit.

I honestly don't care. But typing this story tonight made me feel much better. Imagining how you came into the world crying and reaching for air. You breathed on your own with no help.

You're tough, little guy. They said you wouldn't be. They said you'd be weak, but you proved them wrong. Your my rough and tough little baby boy.

You were out of the NICU so fast and on the special care nursery and home in five-weeks time.

And your brother has never shown one iota of jealousy. He has been so proud of you from the very first moment he saw a photo of you. He loves his "baby brudder" and he watches out for you all the time.

Brody gets on to me if you're crying and I don't get up fast enough to feed you or change your diaper.

"Mommy, feed baby brudder now!" he demands. "He needs you."

Oh boy, Bro. You both do, in so many more ways that you know. That's why I'm stuck in this dungeon fighting for my life.

I'm fighting for you--both of you. I love you so much.

I don't ever want to leave you, ever. And I won't.
I will be here for you always, but I can't make promises.

All I can do is tell you that you've given me the best gift and the most appreciation for life I've had in my 27-years on Earth. Thank you for that. How could I ever want more?

And don't think I'm giving up. I'm not. Mommy's heart just hurts tonight. I just long to be around your snuggles and watch you smile, grin and giggle. You fill up a room when you giggle, Brody. It's the best sound in the world.

I'll still be there to watch your first football game, to walk you in on your first day of school and I'll probably catch you touching yourself for the first time... (gosh I dread that one).

I know you're gonna hate me for putting that on the FOREVER-lasting internet. Sorry, just the way I roll boys! Mommy has to embarrass you sometimes. It's a right of passage. I've been there, trust me. Plus, by the time you're old enough to be typing things on the internet, computers will probably be a thing of the past... maybe not. But something new will be the latest and the greatest, and people won't remember what a blog was.

That's the reason I want to write you, and share my experiences with you--other people might not remember what a blog was, but I will save these for you to read later in life.

Whether it's public, private or gets lost on the interweb, I want you to know who your mom is in the thick of it. I want you to know that I try to find ways to lighten the mood at any chance I get. Mommy just doesn't like to knee-deep in tears; that's not me. I don't want tears to constantly stream down my face. But there are days I have to feel it and this afternoon was just one of those days for me.

But I promise you, I will always try to find some light in the darkness. It's how we move through this life. And it's how you will move through yours.

That is one thing I know now after having both of you.

Life has purpose.

We aren't a bunch of wandering stars in galaxies; it's a pretty thought, but it's not true. God is there. I've never felt closer to Him. I doubted Him before, now I know he is in my heart.

Our story is proof of that. We've witnessed reason beyond reasoning this past year.

Never forget it, my loves.

With love forever and ever and always,
Mom

Part 3: The night we could've lost Brody

Read part 1 & part 2 first.

"Da da," Brody said looking at Klay who is standing in front of him.

A few gasps of relief fell out of Klay and I, along with the strangers in the room. Everyone stopped talking; all focus was on Brody.

"Hey, buddy," Klay said immediately moving down on the floor to be close to Brody.

Brody looks around examining everyone, rolls over and sits my lap. I can't imagine his confusion. Last thing he knew, it was the three of us. Now there's a room of at least 10 people.

Everyone is talking to him. "Look at all of these people who came to see you Bro. Can you say hi?" I say trying to see if he would talk.

He responded by smiling; that was a good sign.

The paramedics explain that it was most likely a febrile seizure caused by an illness and a sudden spike in fever. "I just don't get it. He wasn't shaking like a seizure," I said to them.

The police officer advises us to take him to Children's Hospital in Dallas to get checked out. Klay and I scramble to get our things together as they place Brody on the stretcher. Now, he brings out the water works. He doesn't like being strapped down and taken away from the house with these strange people.

Since they only allow one person in the ambulance, Klay said he'll follow in my car and make the calls to our parents.

The ride in the ambulance was loud, bumpy and cold. There was a chance of sleet that night, and it was sprinkling while we were en route.

Brody became a little restless and anxious, but fell asleep just before we arrived. In the meantime, I answered all of the paramedic's questions and called our parents and my sister to update them and ensure he was OK. They ask if they should to come out to Children's but I told them to hold off because of the bad weather and I'd keep them posted once we talked to the doctor.

By the time we got there it was probably 11:30 p.m. or so. We were exhausted and Brody's diaper needing changing. His pants were soiled and it seemed he suffered from loose bowels during the seizure.

The doctor agreed it was a febrile seizure. Even though he didn't shake, he was rigid which is less common, but that's what they diagnosed.

Apparently, febrile seizures are hereditary. What I didn't know then is that it runs in my family on my mom's side. Febrile seizures is mostly common among kids, and there is a chance he may have more until the age of 5-6. It normally phases off then. They also said this may be his only one; he may never have another.

I've always heard from people through the years that high fever can cause seizures. I think this is misleading to those who don't know much about febrile seizures. They are much more common than you'd think, according to doctors. Take a look at these facts from the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Strokes:

• Approximately one in every 25 children will have at least one febrile seizure, and more than one-third of these children will have additional febrile seizures before they outgrow the tendency to have them. 
• Febrile seizures usually occur in children between the ages of 6 months and 5 years and are particularly common in toddlers.
• Children rarely develop their first febrile seizure before the age of 6 months or after 3 years of age. 
• The older a child is when the first febrile seizure occurs, the less likely that child is to have more.

If you take away anything from this story, let it be this: It is not how high the temperature gets, but the sudden spike in fever that causes them. I'm not saying high fever won't cause them to convulse but what I've been told, the sudden spike is the primary cause. The fever is accompanied with illness, obviously; it's the illness though that lowers their threshold for seizures. And a sudden spike either up or down can cause someone to seize. That's why doctors say never put them in a cold bath, don't keep them covered if they're warm, etc.

OK, back to that night:

The nurses and doctors had been in and out checking Brody's fever with a temporal scanner (aka head thermometer). I have a beef with these devices. In my experiences with these devices they are more than a few points away from an accurate reading. Remember when I talked about Bro being sick two weeks prior to this incident? Well, while I was at the doctor's office with Brody, he was running fever and we could tell from touching his forehead. The nurse used a temporal scanner to check it and it came out normal. She voiced that he felt feverish to her, so she wanted to double check. She went to grab an ear thermometer and it read 102.1. That is a ridiculous difference, people! He had woke up running fever the night prior to that, and it read 101.5, but he felt really hot to Klay and I. We used a temporal scanner, which probably meant it was much much higher than that. Later that day I went and purchased an ear thermometer for better accuracy.

Because most doctor's offices and hospitals use these thermometers, we carry our ear thermometer wherever we go.

When I asked Children's to take it another way, they said they didn't have anything else (except for rectal). That was either BS or laziness; I think both.

We had ours on hand and checked it, I mentioned this to the doctor and nurses, who disregarded it. Brody still had a fever, but it wasn't quite as high (around 100ish). But by their records it was 98, so he was in the clear.

They discharged us at 1-ish a.m. and Klay brought the car around front so B and I didn't have to walk far in the cold.

Leave it to me to get lost on my way out of the hospital (while still inside, mind you), calling Klay on his cell to come and find me. I'm directionally challenged.

Once the hubs rescues us, we walk out to the car, covering Brody with Klay's jacket and strapping him into his carseat. He is awake. I sat in the back with Brody just in case something were to happen on the way home. I wasn't letting this kid out of sight anytime soon.

Unfortunately, I'm wedged between two carseats. I watched my niece that week and needed the extra seat in the car.

I call my mom to let her know we were on the highway headed home. She asked all of the questions and I explained to her the docs said.

We're about to go under Klyde Warren Park (which is on a bridge for those who aren't from Dallas) when I see Brody convulsing.

"Oh my god. He's doing it again! No, no, he's doing it agaaaain," I sob.

Mom: "Get him back to the hospital. I am on my way." Click.

Klay turned on the light speeding to get off at the next exit.

This time Brody's hands are balled in fists in front of him like he's ready to box. His head has fallen on his right shoulder. His teeth grinding against each other. A small groan and hum comes from his tiny mouth.

"Whyyyyyy is this happening?" I bellowed while Klay tries to find his way back to the hospital.

"His lips are turning blue! I need to take him out!" I say trying to undo his buckles. It was too bumpy and too crazy to actually pull him out in all this chaotic driving. We were stopping abruptly, and picking up speed quickly downtown.

"I can't while you're driving!"

Klay pulls over swung open the door rushing to the passenger side back door where Brody is. I've got him out of the carseat, Klay grabs him turns him on his side and pats him on his back.

The icy, wet air is making me shiver. I'm watching Klay pat Brody in horror. I look at the clock to check the time 1:19 a.m.

Brody's lip is no longer as blue, but he's still shaking. His teeth still grinding. The slightest groan sneaking out between his clenched jaw. I'll never forget that sound, that moan.

"I'll have to hold him the rest of the way," I say to Klay who handed him to me.

Hauling ass back to the hospital, unsure of where to go, Klay managed to make it back in less than 3-4 minutes. Thank God, he was driving and not me.

I cradled Brody talking to him in his ear, still sobbing. We arrived back at the ambulance entrance, I instruct Klay to run him in. I'm wedged between the two carseats, my fat rear will have trouble enough getting out alone.

I pass Brody over my console back to Klay who parked the car in the entrance. Carrying Brody, Klay jets back into the hospital.

I crawl into the front seat to park the car, but I can't move. I'm alone now, and I can't control the crying. I've never felt pain or fear like this before.

I sit there for a few minutes weeping unable to function from fear that something else might be wrong with Brody.

I just cried and cried.

I muddled up the last bit of strength I had to park the car and run into the hospital to be there for my son. I had to stay strong for him. I needed to know what was happening to him. Was this febrile seizures or was it something else? And why had he had two in less than 4 hours?

These were the questions I needed answered.

I knew one thing though--I could not watch him go through that again.

Click here for Part 4...

Valentines, Schmalentines

For some reason I always dread Feb. 14. You'd think since the hubs put a ring on it six years ago, Valentine's Day would be a day to look forward to. Sure, it's a great day to shower each other with triple the affection--but to be honest--I feel like it's a waste of money.

I don't want to be one of those lame couples that say "we show each other we love them everyday." I feel like we do, more than most, but it honestly depends on the day. Some days it's more, some days it's less. But it IS every day.

Needless to say, our Valentine's Days aren't too interesting. Just a card--flowers maybe--of course a dinner date, but other than that we don't go nuts over it like we did before we were married.

I know, I know. How boring! But by the time I get in the chocolate-eating, flower-giving, stuffed-animals-that-say-I-love-you-spirit, it seems like it's a lot of hooplah over nothing. And those things get tossed in the can, before the next trash day anyway. OK, maybe not that fast...

It might be this time of year when the January Blues kick in that put me in a funky, foul, pitty-party-havin'-mood. BUT this year, with some positive and proactive pep, I wanted things to be different. I really wanted to something thoughtful for Klay that are from both me and Broman.

So, what better to do than take photos of Brody? It's been a hot minute since we had a professional photo shoot. This time though, I wasn't going to hire some hot photog to get the job done. I'd do it myself; makes it more personal, right? All we need was a few good photos of Brody, and maybe, if we're lucky I'll jump in a for a couple, print them up and BAM! instant gift solution and low-cost.

WRONG. This turned out to be a mess and it all started with me being sick and a misunderstanding with my mom.

I bought a few props from Hobby Lobby to stage a set for Brody. With his V-day "Ladies Man" tee and an old jacket that matched, the shoot was pretty much ready. Except, Mom had somehow mixed my V-day goodies with some of Brody's birthday party stuff (that she took home with her after a day of shopping) and now, I'm without props, I feel like poo and my photos were put on hold.

Countdown to a mommy meltdown, BEGINS...

Eventually mom ended up making it out to my house on the 13th to bring the props and take a few snapshots of me with the kid.

(Countdown to a mommy meltdown, phase 2) Once we were all ready, I decided to try to take some photos inside. Bad option. The hearts wouldn't stick to the wall. And, when they would stick my child would rip them off the wall and throw them down. Good times.

Due to bad lighting and a 2 year old's bad attitude, we decided to move this V-day fun outside.

(Countdown to a mommy meltdown, phase 3): This kid was not having it. By this time we were on meltdown #23:

When your kid doesn't want to smile for a pic, what do you do? Resort to deceitful tactics; you lie or you bribe. "Do you want a candy cane? OK, then smile for Mama." It would have been a lie, but leave it to GiGi to make me follow through on what I say. BUT....

Candy canes saved the day. I got a few good snapshots of a somewhat happy kid.

(Countdown to a mommy meltdown, phase 4): You know when you feel like you look pretty good, then someone takes a photo of you and you're like "I look like crap." Yeah, it was one of those days. Plus, my kid wouldn't cooperate. He didn't want to take pics with me, much less get photographed kissing mama.

I went inside and applied (much-needed) more make up to finish up our photo sesh. This is much better...

(Countdown to a mommy meltdown, phase 5): When I tried to wrap things up with Brody, I forgot I didn't get any photos with his jacket off, so we went back inside and attempted one last time. Someone wanted his jacket on. Meltdown #30.

This was the last meltdown I could deal with before I broke down myself. Later that night, I uploaded the photos to Walgreens in town thinking I would pick them up the next day while running errands to pick up last-minute items for a baby shower I was hosting on the 15th.

(Countdown to a mommy meltdown, phase 6): Next morning (Feb. 14), I go to Walgreens feeling worse than the day before with a cranky kiddo. I was debating on whether or not to go back to the doctor for the third time in two weeks, but I hated to take Brody into a sickly place when he was still on the mend from the week before. When I walked in to Walgreens to pick up my photos, I found someone working on the BROKEN machine.

No, my photos hadn't been printed.

And, no, they wouldn't have it fixed any time soon.

No, they couldn't transfer my photo order to another store.

SOL, lady. So much for your V-day. No wonder I hate this holiday.

Needless to say, I walked out crying and called my mom.

I eventually calmed down, got some food, downloaded the Walgreens app and figured out I could send my already uploaded photos to another Walgreens nearby.

I went to Walmart to pick up a few things, meanwhile Klay comes and scoops up Brody for me so I can finish my errands. He even takes some of my other to-do's off my list so I can focus on my Valentine's gift for him; I love that man.

I finally get to Walgreens and pick up my order only to find they have lines on them. They'd ran them through three times, and when I complained they did it again, but they didn't improve much. I did get them for half off. Pretty much the only pro of this whole story.

By the time all my errands were done, it was 6 o'clock and Klay was already home. We were going to be home with the kid, so no romantic time for this couple.

I had to send him outside to decorate his gift. But when I walked in I was welcomed with flowers, cards and apple pie and ice cream from my two men.

Klay bought apple pie and ice cream to remind me of our favorite day from our 17-day trek home from Alaska in 2011. We were in Gold Beach, Oregon at a small restaurant eating the most incredible homemade apple pie with ice cream looking out at seals who sat on the dock just outside our window. It reminded me of a better, less stressful day. He did good.

Maybe Valentine's Day isn't so bad. Ah, who am I kidding? It still sucks...

Until next year,

 

Brody's Birth Story Part 3

Read part 1 & part 2 first.

Soon after our first few wonderful hours together, Brody was off to the nursery to get examined, poked, measured and watched by daddy, who was standing with a camera in hand eyeing Brody and his nurse's every move; he wasn't going to leave his side any time soon.

Meanwhile back in L&D, I was getting the treatment--getting cleaned up via sponge-bath which made me feel much better despite still experiencing the migraine.  Before I realized it, it was midnight and I was beyond delirious.

I had a new visitor--my dear friend Cami. She arrived just after her shift ended at work--Dodie's Greenville--, and bumped into Klay at the nursery.

"Brody's so cute," she said as she sat down and asked how I felt. The light was dim in the room to help ease with the sensitivity to light from the gruesome headache. Honestly, I don't really remember much of our conversation because I was so exhausted and OUT OF IT. I remember talking, though it could have been about politics, baby Jesus, who knows?



After Cami left, my nurses prepped me to move to a room upstairs. Lauren and Brandy, my two nurses of the day, were truly spectacular. I'd gotten so attached to them I was crazy sad to move upstairs. I felt like they were sending me off into the wilderness to fend for myself. It was almost as if they were my parents sending me to live in a new home with a new family. At least that's how I felt. They guided me through the most incredible, scary, up and down rollercoaster ride of my life and I didn't want to let them go. Through my labor I discovered one was from Forney and even got her contact info to meet up. I was attached.

But it was time for me to take my leap, start walking on my own and for them to let go of me, wave goodbye and let me  figure this thing out called motherhood. But I was so afraid that my next nurses wouldn't take as good of care of me as they did. But if they were so great, surely the hospital has more great nurses right? WRONG.

After our move to our newest digs, the nurses brought me my baby boy. I was so eager to hold him despite my exhaustion. I didn't mind feeding him, I was just happy he was with me; I didn't want him out of my sight.I looked back at Lauren as I lay on the portable hospital bed, grabbed her hand, and shifted my focus to Klay who was walked beside us.  Whisked me out of L&D, we were on the move, I closed my eyes opening them to only see glimpses of walls and florescent lights that skated above me.



While I was holding Brody once more, I felt my nausea resurface. Looking at the new night nurse in my room, I said "Get me something I'm about to get sick. I'm about to sick. Take him, take him." She just stood there looking at me like I was speaking a foreign language. Maybe I was? Thankfully, Klay stood up took Brody from me and handed me a hospital barf bag. Why they make those bags so small?!?

After getting sick again for the millionth time, I started to dose. Every three or so hours people would come check my BP. Then, my nurse came in and said my oxygen levels were low. Down in L&D, they'd put this thing on my finger which is supposed to monitor my oxygen levels. Well prior to delivery, Brandy (my L&D nurse) had trouble getting a good read on my finger. I'd gotten the shellac or gel nail polish (navy blue) and it wasn't reading through my nail. So, after trying it on my toe (which had gray polish), and that didn't work, they moved the monitor to my ear. When we got upstairs, they placed it back on my finger.

I told the new nurses this a thousand times, but they didn't listen, they continued to ignore me. I kept dosing off intermittently between nurses shuffling in and out of this tiny room.

Around 4 a.m., a specialist came in to check on me. I told him through the oxygen mask--feeling sort of Darth Vadarish--that'd I said 500 times to check it somewhere else but no one would listen. He simply took the clamp, opened it and turned it sideways so it was on my skin rather than the nail, and voila! it was normal. Thankfully that was the end of that.

We were eventually moved to a third room later that morning. Brody's tests were coming back normal with the exception of one--his jaundice test. With rising jaundice levels higher than normal,  we were going to keep good track of it, which meant more pokes and blood test on this heel of his foot.

Despite everything, he seemed to be taking to my breast well and everyone told me I was doing a great job breastfeeding. The lactation nurse even told me my milk was coming in. I was hopeful. I had this dream that I would be the mom that traveled everywhere with her kid in a baby bjorn, popping out the boobie when he got hungry like his very own milk vending machine. I was going to be the source of his food. It was my responsibility to be his one-stop shop for the goods. That was me, the milk-making mommy machine. I could see it.

What an idiot, I was...