Mothers Intuition?

The time seems to be flying by. Looks like another appointment, another check up, another four hour trip, only to reveal the same news. The time is January 8th to be exact. I will remain optimistic, but always in reality. Some days it seems like it was only yesterday, others an entire lifetime ago.

I guess some form of explanation is in order. You can’t truly understand the story until you’ve heard the whole thing.

Note:Some things have been left out and names have been changed to protect the privacy of this blog and those directly connected to it.

From the moment he was born, I knew something wasn’t right. He was absolutely perfect, not a hair out of place. The call it mothers intuition. After fighting for the entire first year and a half of his life, I finally reached my breaking point. His pediatrician did everything but call me insane. Parading around like some “know it all” trying to belittle me. Claiming that I was an “over bearing first time parent”. Even went on to say it may be in the child’s best interest to be brought to the appointments by someone else. Someone other than his mother?

Jumping in the car and driving to next town, I don’t recall how I managed to run into the doctors office, much less demand immediate help. Once the staff realized how serious I was, they grabbed the nearest doctor, and escorted us to a room. I remember it like it was yesterday. The kind look on her face. A little tremble over her eyebrow letting me know she was genuinely concerned. She gave us her undivided attention. Once she heard our story, the restless nights, constant wheezing, loss of appetite, and all of the other horrible symptoms. She felt the same heart stabbing pain, picked up the phone and began making calls.

Later that afternoon she called to say she found a specialist a few towns over and that was her best guess. She later called to say the soonest she could be seen was three months away, but another doctor there would be happy to take the case. She followed that statement with “So I said sure! Your appointment is tomorrow.”

Relief, and anxiety began the battle in my mind that I would be tormented with over the next few days. Once arriving, the staff where friendly, the office was nice, and the Doctor, he was like nothing I’d ever seen. From the moment he walked in I felt this sense of peace. He asked to speak with the child, not myself or my mother in law. Only the child. (My husband was out of town on working.) Once he managed to say the simple word “no” to the doctor, the answers where coming. “There are several different scenarios, all are rare. Surgery is in order. Go home pack your bags, pray, and come back first thing in the morning.”

Leaving was the hardest part, my legs seemed to have lost all ability to move. Once in the car it was a quite ride home, followed by packing, crying, praying, more crying, and the long trip back to a hotel down from the hospital. No sleep for anyone that night. The next morning seemed to creep by. Anxiety building and worry taking over. The time finally came to take him back to the operating room. There are no words to describe the gut wrenching, heart breaking pain of giving your child to someone you don’t know and allowing them to perform a life threatening procedure. The nurse assured us it normally takes around 30-45 minutes to get in, take pictures and get out. Nervous I asked “Should it take longer can someone come out and reassure us?” 45 minutes later she did just that.

After what seemed like an eternity (2 hours and 37 minutes) the doctor appeared. Sweat on his brow, pale face, pictures and papers in hand, he leans in and pulls me aside. My father stepping in “We’re all family here, you can tell us too.” With a small nod of my head he proceeds. “In my line of work, we don’t usually mix business and religion, but I’m telling you, I don’t know what God you pray to, but you had better get on your knees and thank him. It’s a miracle that baby was alive when he got here! We’re going to have more results later when our samples return but I can tell you that he has a very rare respiratory disorder. They’re working toward classifying it as a disease but its still in the early stages. The good news is you’re in the right place, the bad news is there is no cure.” The words seemed to paralyze me. No words, no movement. The entire world seemed to have faded into mass chaos blurred out by my heart beat.

An hour or so later the nurse came out announcing we could go in. He seemed so weak. So small, and yet so strong. He was released a few days later to come home. That was 3 years and 8 months ago. We’ve had our ups and our downs, but we still have our boy! The journey has been one of heartache and great joy. It’s not as rare as it was when we started this, but it’s still uncommon.

Most people who have heard this story say “I don’t know how you done it. “How did you know?” Or the ever popular “He’s so lucky to have you for a mom!” As much as I appreciated the positivity, one thing is for sure, he isn’t lucky, he is blessed. I give every ounce of credit to The Lord above. He gave me the strength to keep fighting, and my son the strength to hold on. Everyday we have with him is a miracle in itself. After successfully completing 11 surgeries and countless other procedures he just celebrated his 5th birthday!

Moral of the story:
Never take one single breath for granted and when you have a gut feeling, don’t let others talk you down.


Getting Schooled

“What do say in a moment like this, when you can’t find the words to tell it like it is? Just bite your tongue and let your heart lead the way. Oh what do you say?”

I find myself saying that more and more often these days. With two young children it’s a hard thing to tell it like it is. It starts when someone takes a toy, or doesn’t want to share, but what about when it’s a real heart breaker?

My son just turned five and started his first year of school. One of the kids in his class is down right mean. To the point of knowing he’s mean and doesn’t care. On several occasions he has hit my son, kicked him, hit him with other objects, and snatched toys away. Then, when he’s asked to give them back you’re not sure of he’s going to throw a fit or throw the toy at someones head.

A few days ago, driving home from school he seemed a little upset. After asking what’s wrong, he responded with an answer that truly brought tears to my eyes. “I just want to be his friend, everyone needs a friend, and he has none. Maybe if he had one friend, he would be nice, and have a lot of friends.” Isn’t amazing how someone so young has a heart so pure? It doesn’t bother him that the child has been ugly. He only wants to help the kid.

Boy, couldn’t we learn a few things from this? How many times have you experienced similar upsets? Someone else taking something you wanted or worked for. Someone else saying unkind words to or about you. It’s hard to turn the other cheek, but even harder to love them anyway. Can you imagine what this world would be like if we could love the way children do?

Whole heartedly, with all trust, and believing that you can help anyone. Man it must feel amazing to have the confidence of a five year old.

McApple Pie of My Eye

Eyestrain Productions

If you know me personally at all, chances are you’ve heard about The Pie. Maybe I’ve even taken it out to show you, let you touch it, encouraged you to sniff it. The Pie is legend, and has been for a great many years now. And if you know about The Pie, then you know we’ve just passed a significant milestone on its journey through the ages and into immortality.

The rest of you I’m going to have to bring up to speed.

I mentioned an important anniversary several weeks ago in this blog. Not the one related to the blog itself, nor my comic book work. I’m talking about that other, mysterious anniversary, I was so specifically vague about. The twenty-five year anniversary.

Rather than recap the whole sordid story from the beginning, let us instead begin at the end – or at least the end as it stood…

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Fill ‘er Up!

Think of your marriage for a moment. Now imagine that the relationship between you and your spouse is a gas tank. You wouldn’t drive your car on E without filling it up would you? Of course not, and none of us want to be stranded and alone!

When you look at your marriage as a whole, are you a giver? You must be able to truly give before you can appreciate what you receive. Fill up their tank. Love them, show them gratitude, and be completely selfless.

If you’ve never read “The 5 Love Languages” I strongly recommend it. I read the short gift version and loved it. Each person has a “love tank” there are 5 love languages or “5 types of gas” if you will. The hardest part is deciphering which gas they need.

Your spouse looks to you for comfort, love, support, and encouragement. You have to give that in order to receive it. Love them beyond all things. Show appreciation. Actions speak volumes. I guarantee if you spend a small fraction of your time building your spouse up, you will see a tremendous boost in their self confidence as well as the response they give you.

Think of yourself, you want to have full support. You want to be appreciated. Of course you want to feel loved. As humans, we all do. Show them what you want by giving it first. You don’t want someone else filling their tank do you? I think not! Remember, marriage is about team work, and sometimes you have to lead by example. Be positive. Be a great spouse.

Curiosity killed the cat….

As 2014 approaches I can’t help but look back on the misadventures we’ve had. It has been a year of ups and downs. I’ve asked myself how we managed another year? Will the next be any better? Of course I’ve said “If I could only go back.” Curiosity killed the cat. Or did it?

For 2014 I’ve decided to deeply evaluate all of the things that brought out the worst for us. Curious to see if I am merely happy now, how wonderful will it be when I release all negativity and embrace only the positive? I refuse to have another moment of unhappiness. With two perfectly perfect children and a husband who is an incredible provider, I draw the line with 2013! It is only up from here!

Worrying is some why of a hobby of mine. Ask anyone who personally knows me and I am the most optimistic, upbeat, and positive person around. If only everything coming out of my mouth matched the feelings in my mind. It is my vow for myself to discard all the negativity from this previous year and all negativity that should come our way. I flat our REFUSE to e anything other than happy when I have every reason to be overjoyed.

Hello 2014, I’ve been waiting for you! I’m excited for new beginnings, fresh starts, planting seeds of happiness, and digging deeper to learn more about who I truly am.

To blog or not to blog. That is the question.

I guess you could say I’m new to this. This being a blogger. I’ve only written my ramblings for school papers, the occasional Facebook post, or just to get out all the junk slowing me down. I find that writing allows me to release all the things I wouldn’t normally share with others.

Some of the things I like to touch on are primarily about marriage, life, parenting, relationships, and of course being politically incorrect. I can break it down for you like this, I am a southern mother, a wife, and I stand firm in my beliefs. I will be the first to stand behind you if speak your opinion. I don’t have to agree with your opinion or beliefs to stand with you. I beg for a time where free speech is truly that.

I suppose I’m unsure about blogging because I’ve never really had a….blank canvas. To be and say whatever my little heart desires. Where do I begin? What will I say? Who will care what I have to say? I throw caution to the wind and press on.

What is normal?

Can you imagine being the only kid in your class with a step-dad? In today’s society probably not, but that is exactly the issue I faced everyday of my early childhood. I come from a time where normal was considered one set of parents staying married for all of eternity, having several children, the family pet, and of course the pristine white picket fence guarding a perfectly manicured lawn. Or so it seemed. My life however was far from the picture you just envisioned.

Growing up I was surrounded by step-parents, grandparents, step-grandparents, and siblings that where either a “half” or a “step”. Try explaining that to your toddler when they ask “why do I have so many grandmas?”. The question remains. What is normal?

The first half of my life I spent building up walls, and creating excuses to further prevent someone or anyone for that matter from loving me. Truth is, I didn’t love myself. My mind was already made up. Why get married only to end up on divorce? I had to reach the bottom, find myself completely alone, and only then could I realize how much I needed another person. I had to overcome my paralyzing fear of rejection, defeat, and heartbreak before I could allow someone to love me. Both of my biological parents had divorces under their belts, and both of my siblings as well. I told myself that If I ever found someone worth fighting with, and fighting for that would be it. The one, the only, my other half.

Since being at the bottom, I managed to successfully climb to the top. I’ve experienced more than most in a short time. I married my best friend, and gave birth to two perfect children. I try to accommodate each perspective in my parenting, that of my parents, my extra parents, and my siblings. I want my children to understand that there is no definitive term for “normal”, only that we make our lives as peaceful, calm, and beautiful as we possibly can.