A Stance For Education...

My goodness! Where has the time gone? I'm more of a person-to-person chatterer than I am someone who writes (or types, as in this case). I got to thinking about all the problems that are plaguing our world these days. One of them, in my very own country...USA...is our education system.

Our education system is flawed. Its cracks are more than visible; they're now felt. It's a trickle down of reckless financial responsibility, education misinformation and shotty politics Our teachers are being robbed of their ability to do what they love and in turn, our students...pioneers of the future...are being stifled in their goals to express themselves. Children's imaginations are what helped to shape our world. By stripping our children of their imaginations and individuality, we are only corrupting the natural process of positive growth.

Teachers go to school to learn. They don't do this just for their own self worth, but with the notion that the knowledge they've learned and earned, can be passed down to future generations in hope of creating a more compassionate, well-balanced and highly functional society. So many want to blame the teachers for how many of our youth have turned out. Those very people are forgetting to see the hardships these teachers are faced with when trying to gain balance within their own teaching environments so they can offer the best that they can give.

Unfortunately, many of those teachers are faced with rules that are politically bound, that stretch beyond the boundaries of a politician's office; politicians that are sticking their noses and hands into something they aren't qualified to meddle in. These rules start to govern our educational establishments and of course...that means teachers are now more restricted. They are unable to go above and beyond for their students, as they once previously hoped they could. Class sizes are now busting at the seams. It was once 20-28 students per average class, now it's well over 30, with some even tapping out at almost 40 students. I'm a mother of 2 and I have enough trouble trying to keep track of each of my children's day to day schedules, but to try and manage the time and behavior of 30+ students? Mind you, each student is different and each one needs help in some way or another. For one person (most of the time this just being the teacher) to manage that day by day and get most of their students to pass a C grade level...that's a triumph in itself. They should be praised for that achievement. Parental involvement is highly important to aiding teachers in managing students on an individual basis. Many parents go to work or are at home, with the expectations that their children are at school and the school is solely responsible for the entire well-being of the student while in their care. That type of thinking only causes the parent to act as though they aren't responsible for their child during school hours and that if the school doesn't perform up to par, then they should be held responsible for something that should start from home. Other parents butt into the school's business so much, that they don't allow the school to assist them in helping their child to progressively grow. That only stunts the ability of the child.

Don't be afraid to involve yourself with the school, to some degree, in order to help your child maintain a decent educational environment and relationship with his/her teachers. With one of my children being special needs, I try my best to butt out unless it has to do with something that could hinder my child's progress. I make sure to be on top of the classwork and homework that is going on. I even have my own daily planner to keep me up to date with everything. I also know both children's teachers and the multiple ways to reach them in case of something important or an emergency. I try to touch base with them should something arise from home so they know what to expect at school. There's a multitude of ways that we, as parents, can help with our children and their schools.

Lastly, be sure to show your appreciation to the school and its staff by saying a thank you now and then. You'd be surprised how welcoming and warm it is for them to know that someone is on their side. I've always held fast to the belief that if you don't like the way things are going...then do your part to help change it for the better. WE need to work TOGETHER and help one another MAKE a difference. TEAMWORK. COMMUNITY. COMPASSION. RESPONSIBILITY. Let's put our education on the forefront. It's the only way we're going to learn to progress forward in a healthy and positive way. Our children are our FUTURE. Their ideas help to shape this world into something more. Let's fight for it working together.

Curious Questions...

Oh my goodness…I’m absolutely horrid! It’s been way too long since I’ve written a blog post. Kids, husband, career…so many things that manage to take up time and before you know it? It’s flashed before your very eyes.

Okay, so what I didn’t get to do a few weeks ago, I’m going to do now. I attempted to do something…sort of an experiment. It worked and I was mildly surprised by the results. I didn’t do this to upset anyone or to cause people to feel as though they had to be on the defense. I did this in the beginning…merely out of sheer curiosity.

I had posted something on my personal Facebook page concerning same-sex marriage and religion. My intention was just to see how religion affects a person’s moral judgments. I asked this question to any of my friends who held strong religious beliefs. The question I had asked was: If you were to take religion out of the picture, would you still feel the same way you do about the same-sex marriage ruling?  If you do still feel the same way, what is the reasoning behind why you feel that way? I asked people to give me their opinion with their religious views omitted from the equation. A few people couldn’t answer my question without giving me a religious take anyway, which was something I asked them not to do. No one could really answer my questions. For the most part, many couldn’t separate their religious views from their morals. The observations that I made based off the comments I received on the post told me that they believe that their religious views greatly affect and dictate what their morals are. If that is the case, where does that leave the idea of “free will”?Anywho, it was just my curiosity getting the best of me.

I'm curious now to hear what you all might have to say about this. So, the question I leave to you all is: Do you believe that religious views dictate a person’s morals or are they two separate set of beliefs?

*Please, keep all comments/responses respectful and polite. Should anyone choose to say anything disrespectful, I will remove the comment from the page and if warranted, I will block the person from the blog. This is a place of peaceful debate and discussion and I will uphold it as such.*

Post Surgery Update 3

My goodness! I'm just terrible for not keeping up with this blog. Can you all forgive me? :) So, so much has gone on since then, much of it repetitive.

At first, my doctor believed I might have something called Persistant Gestational Trophoblastic Disease (GTD). This is quite the complicated disease. I had to do some serious research to learn about it and find out what my options were should I have this. Well...if you don't mind reading, here's the link describing what it is, options for recovery and other information:

http://www.cancer.org/cancer/gestationaltrophoblasticdisease/detailedguide/gestational-trophoblastic-disease-what-is-g-t-d

This was quite the eye opener. To follow through with making sure it wasn't this diagnosis, I had to do some more poking. I hate getting poked, but by this point, I'm accustomed to the teeny pin prick. I think what helped is I have been blessed to have some amazing people who know how to draw blood without making a mess or causing me to scream out in "OUCH!" when they go for the poke. In and out in less than 5 minutes. The way it should be. LOL

Well, I've been quiet up until now because I've been keeping up with my weekly testing. The best news? Each test has been showing a decrease in HCG levels. YAY! After that first increase, it just started going back down. Chances are...I don't have GTD. If all goes well, this next appointment (on Wednesday), my levels should be at or near zero. That means that I can finally start moving forward. I want to HEAL.

I write all of this to help bring awareness to the complications that can happen. Learning about Molar Pregnancies and GTD has been difficult,but well worth it. I think it's important to educate yourself on your body and what happens to it. Don't be afraid to ask questions. Always trust your body; your instincts. We've been blessed with the amazing ability to feel and listen to our body and what it tries to tell us. 

I want to thank all those friends, family and acquaintances that have given their love, support and time to our family. It meant the world to us in ways that are hard to put into words. Thank you! The relief my family and I feel now, is enormous. The kids have relaxed and their behavior have improved. James isn't as tense and I'm feeling MUCH better. Here's to healing!

Post Surgery Update 2

Things aren't going quite as well as I had hoped.  I experienced some serious bleeding and clotting yesterday, not normal, for what's supposed to happen.  I thought perhaps my body was trying to regulate itself via menstrual.  I contacted my OBGYN's office and was told to take another HCG test the following day and that if any of my symptoms continued, that I was to head to the ER.  NO!  I don't want another trip! *whines* I feel like I'm practically on a first name basis with those people.  *sigh* Good thing is, the clotting stopped and bleeding slowed to a trickle.  My only side effect from it all has been some fatigue. 

So I let them poke my arm and take some of my life force today.  The results this afternoon? They weren't what I had expected. My doctor called me personally and told me that she didn't see the results she was hoping for, so I needed another blood test tomorrow morning and an ultrasound in the afternoon (in lieu of what had happened the other day). Oh boy...more tests.  More poking and probing? *sigh*  

I know I've needed the blood work for awhile.  I guess from the day of my surgery, I am supposed to get a blood test to check my HCG levels once every week for about 3 weeks or until my levels drop to zero. Then I need them once a week for another 3 weeks, but they have to be zero each week. Then after that, I'm supposed to check once a month for the next 6 months. PHEW! I never thought I'd end up feeling like a pin cushion for medical science. 

I won't deny...I'm scared. I don't want another D&C.  From what I've read, heard and learned, the possibility is there. I've heard of other women having complete Molar pregnancies and having to have 1, 2 or sometimes 3 D&Cs. *grabs abdomen* I'm not sure if I could endure another one.  My biggest fear?  I would need a hysterectomy.  The good thing is, at least I have had the opportunity to have two beautiful children during my childbearing time. These children are the best things to ever happen to me, as well as my incredibly supportive husband. I'm thankful for these blessings. The sad part is that if I end up having to have a hysterectomy, my chances of conceiving another child naturally will be gone. James and I have discussed adoption, but it's still just a thought.  Our main concern is my health and well-being.  

Well, I figured I'd give a little update.  Not sure if it's something anyone wants to hear (sorry about the TMI), but I felt it was needed for myself to have some relief. Count all your blessings, because sometimes, the little ones are the most precious things that life can offer.  :) 

Husband and Marriage Before Kids?

Oh boy… *sigh* So this time around I’m going to tap something that is being viewed as a somewhat taboo topic.  Putting your husband and marriage first before your kids.  (I even put it in red…Taboo color?) I know, I’m probably going to hear it from the masses about why it’s wrong for me to think this way and how I should be putting my kids above all else…blah blah blah.  STOP! *throws a hand up* Hear me out before you judge, purty please?  I had this discussion with some friends via my personal Facebook not too long ago.  It was hard to explain the reason for my choice over social media.  I don’t expect everyone to agree with my decision.  I’m okay with that.  I’m also okay with other people having their opinion in the matter.  I just want to know that we can have a mutual respect for each other’s view without fear of ridicule. I know…I know, not easy to accomplish on social media; not with everyone hiding behind anonymity and wearing it as a false badge of courage.  I’m even guilty of this. I think the point I’m making, is no matter what I say or what other people comment…*sings…* R E S P E C T!

I saw an article some time back, written by a woman who stated that she puts her husband before her kids. *audible gasp* My goodness!  The backlash that came from those that read this article (and those that assumed something from the title) was enormous.  I was shocked to see how many people jumped to the conclusion that this woman was a horrible mother and shouldn't have children if she can’t love them first.  I did some serious thinking about my life; my husband and children. My husband and I haven’t been married long.  This June 21^st, will mark 2 years married, although we've been together almost 7 years.  We’re a blended family; son from a previous relationship and daughter together. We do alright for the family we are…there is love, an abundance of it.

My husband and marriage come first, but not in the way many people assume.  There’s a huge difference between the emotional and physical impact that happens within the family.  Obviously, if there was a medical emergency, my husband and I would most definitely put our children on top.  Their well being is very important to us.  I’m talking about a family dynamic of emotional well being. 

I was once a single mother.  I raised my son from the time he was born, until Gabe was 8. I know what it’s like to put my son first.  I also knew though, that if I didn't take care of myself in some way or another (emotionally and physically), I wouldn't be able to take care of Gabe. Now that we all live together and are married, we just furthered that thinking.  James and I realized that when we just placed the kids first, our well being within our marriage and how we thought of ourselves, started to falter.  We neglected to work on our own issues and the issues we were starting to have within our marriage.  Our ability to compromise, grow and learn was beginning to crumble.  That disconnect was beginning to show within our family dynamic; our family wasn't doing so well after awhile.  Next thing we knew, it started to greatly affect our children and the way they viewed themselves and us. Communication within the family started to skip beats, yelling and arguing occurred more often and most of all…we started saying things that we otherwise wouldn't have said. Anger was becoming the new norm in the house.  I wasn't comfortable with this at all.

I started taking a serious look at the way I was handling my own behavior with others and how I perceived myself.  I realized that I wasn't comfortable in my own skin.  I was going through depression and started feeling like I wasn't enough. I don’t know why I felt this way, but knew I needed an inner well-being overhaul.  I started getting back into my yoga/Pilates, started eating healthier, getting more into my artwork, spending more time meditating and understanding who I was and what I wanted for myself.  Most of all, I started to learn to appreciate what I had, instead of doubting the very good things that were already there.

Starting on this road to self-discovery and soul healing, I came to realize I AM totally worth something, I am doing the best I can and that I am good enough. Keeping that in mind, I have been able to continuously strive to do my best to grow and in turn, I can give back what I've learned and hopefully, help others.  My husband saw this and eventually started on his own journey.

James and Gabe did NOT get along for the longest time.  They still butt heads at times, but it’s nothing compared to how it was in the beginning.  James has the patience of a thousand monks.  When he did get angry though, it was very explosive.  It was like his mouth was ripped off a trucker.  There was no calming him. He just needed to vent and then go downstairs to take his time out.  Gabe has always been reactive.  He already had his own issues, but when he and James got into it…it was like watching two teens duke it out over Minecraft.  Neither one wanted to back down.  I would have just stepped in every time and end up doling out the consequences to Gabe.  That only ended up undermining what little parental authority that James had. That just upset James even more.  Gabe assumed I was backing him up.  James was also learning how to be a parent to our daughter, so dealing with a child with special needs and that was not his own biological child, posed some problems.  I felt his frustration. I knew it was time for me to try and help support and work through his feelings with him. 

It’s been months of work between the two of us, but through some counseling , therapy for Gabe, communication and compromise between James and I, we've come so far and have accomplished so much.  Our relationship is 10x what it was in the beginning.  We took the struggles we experienced and learned from them, rather than allow them to conquer our family. We still have our little moments, but NOTHING like we did previously.  Our love and respect for each other has only grown.

My point being, if I didn't take the time to work on myself and my marriage, where would be all be now? I actually took the time to try and understand and learn why James felt what he did, instead of assuming he just didn't care about Gabe. I hadn't of done any of this, we wouldn't be what we are now. We would've probably been another divorce statistic. Guys and gals are different in the ways they act and think.  We can’t assume that because our men don’t talk with us about their feelings that they don’t care. We can’t assume that because they don’t act the way we do with our children that they don’t care.  We can’t assume that because they don’t communicate with the same thoughts that they don’t respect us.  Those ready assumptions can cost us what we truly want.  I love my husband and married him knowing his faults.  We work each and every day, to grow and learn with and from each other.  This in turn, enables our children to learn from us and hopefully help them grow into functioning, compassionate, loving, honest and truthful adults.  We lead by example.  

Post Surgery Update

I haven't talked much about my post surgery healing.  I figured it was due time for an update.  I'm doing well physically.  At my last post-op appointment, my HCG levels had dropped drastically.  It had been 8 days from my time in the hospital to that appointment.  It feels good to be able to eat a normal meal and to be able to drink fluids without feeling like I'm going to expel it all via Exorcism style. Believe me, don't EVER take water for granted. It really is a precious commodity and necessity.  Before all this started, I was drinking a gallon or more a day.  When I was at my worst, I couldn't even down a glass of water without it coming right back up.  Now?  I'm almost back up to my original status. YAY! Just a few more post-op appointments to make sure my levels drop to zero. I can help my husband feel as though he's not alone in our partnership in marriage and as parents.  I feel good knowing I can be there for my kids.  I can chase them around the house to tickle them, make them pancakes and hug and kiss them. :)  

The downfall?  I've started to finally feel the emotional impact this has had on me and my family.  Don't get me wrong, having this blog has helped the process move along a lot smoother.  The pain I feel isn't so much of a loss, as it is for having the knowledge I do now on what could have happened to me had we not taken the chance to seek out proper emergency medical care. I had to educate myself on something that I was completely clueless about.  Complete Molar Pregnancy.  The term still sounds foreign to my ears. 

*Just as a side note: I know that I explained a teensy weensy bit about what a complete molar pregnancy is, but just in case you all would like more information on this...(as described by the Mayo Clinic  http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/molar-pregnancy/basics/definition/con-20034413 )...

A molar pregnancy is a noncancerous (benign) tumor that develops in the uterus. It starts when an egg is fertilized, but instead of a normal, viable pregnancy resulting, the placenta develops into an abnormal mass of cysts.

In a complete molar pregnancy, there's no embryo or normal placental tissue. In a partial molar pregnancy, there's an abnormal embryo and possibly some normal placental tissue. The embryo begins to develop but is malformed and can't survive.

A molar pregnancy can have serious complications — including a rare form of cancer — and requires early treatment.

A molar pregnancy may seem like a normal pregnancy at first, but most molar pregnancies cause specific signs and symptoms, including:

• Dark brown to bright red vaginal bleeding during the first trimester
• Severe nausea and vomiting
• Sometimes vaginal passage of grape-like cysts
• Rarely pelvic pressure or pain

A molar pregnancy is caused by an abnormally fertilized egg. Shortly after fertilization, the chromosomes from the mother's egg are lost or inactivated and the father's chromosomes are duplicated. The egg may have had an inactive nucleus or no nucleus. In a partial or incomplete molar pregnancy, the mother's chromosomes remain but the father provides two sets of chromosomes. 

Up to an estimated 1 in every 1,000 pregnancies is molar. 

After a molar pregnancy has been removed, molar tissue may remain and continue to grow. This is called persistent gestational trophoblastic disease (GTD). It occurs in about 1 of every 5 women after a molar pregnancy — usually after a complete mole rather than a partial mole.

One sign of persistent GTD is when the level of human chorionic gonadotropin (HCG) — a pregnancy hormone — remains high after the molar pregnancy has been removed. In some cases, an invasive mole penetrates deep into the middle layer of the uterine wall, which causes vaginal bleeding. Persistent GTD can nearly always be successfully treated, most often with chemotherapy. Another treatment option is removal of the uterus (hysterectomy).

Rarely, a cancerous form of GTD known as choriocarcinoma develops and spreads to other organs. Choriocarcinoma is usually successfully treated with multiple cancer drugs.

A molar pregnancy can't continue as a normal viable pregnancy. To prevent complications, the molar tissue must be removed. Treatment usually consists of one or more of the following:

• Dilation and curettage (D&C). To treat a molar pregnancy, your doctor removes the molar tissue from your uterus during a procedure called dilation and curettage (D&C). A D&C is usually done as an outpatient procedure in a hospital.
  During the procedure, you receive a local or general anesthetic and lie on your back with your legs in stirrups. Your doctor inserts a speculum into your vagina, as in a pelvic exam, to see your cervix. Your doctor then dilates your cervix and removes uterine tissue with a vacuum device. A D&C usually takes about 15 to 30 minutes.
• Hysterectomy. If the molar tissue is extensive and there's no desire for future pregnancies, you might have surgery to remove your uterus (hysterectomy).
• HCG monitoring. After the molar tissue is removed, your doctor repeats measurements of your HCG level until it returns to normal. If you continue to have HCG in your blood, you may need additional treatment. Once treatment for the molar pregnancy is complete, your doctor may continue to monitor your HCG levels for six months to one year to make sure there's no remaining molar tissue. Because pregnancy makes it difficult to monitor HCG levels, your doctor may recommend waiting until after follow-up before trying to become pregnant again.

So, yeah...you can see why I was so freaked out when I was at the hospital finding out about this.  I know that my chances are slim about me getting anything cancerous, but...cancer? OMG.  The fear, unfortunately, is still there. I don't have a difficult time seeing my friends with their babies or hearing about their pregnancies.  Those things actually make my smile and lift my heart to a higher place. I'm genuinely happy for my friends. :) The hard part I keep butting heads with, is when I look at the situation as a whole and realize I'm lucky. I know I'm okay, but seeing everything that happened and reading back through what I've went through, has left me a little stunned.  I didn't realize how much I had really went through until I talked with my husband and kids about the whole ordeal.  James told me how he was seriously concerned about my well-being at the time. To hear that sense of pain and worry in my husband's voice, just rocked me to the core. We're all still having a difficult time conceptualizing that reality. 

I have my spiritual faith to help calm me during this time. I'm lucky to have the friends and family that I do, during this time, to lend their love and support to us.  Their love, friendship, listening skills and compassion has been invaluable. I thank them for who they are and what they've done. <3 

Just know, if there is any of you out there that need support during your time of loss and grief, you are not alone and there are resources at your fingertips.  If you have any questions and would like some help to locate or reach these resources; don't be afraid to talk to your doctor, counselor, friend, family member or local support group.  You don't have to be alone. Don't blame yourself.  Don't be afraid to talk to someone. Don't lose hope. 

<3 We are not alone. <3

Happy Mother's Day

Just wanted you all to know I didn't forget about you.  I've been catching up on so much since I've been recovering from my surgery.  I wanted to drop by and send a little note of love and happiness.  

Happy Mother's Day to all!

A thanks to those mothers that have loved and lost.  A thanks to the fathers out there that have had to fulfill both roles. A thanks to those mothers that are responsible for the wee ones running amok in the house. A thanks to those grandmothers who bake cookies with their grandchildren (my mother-in-law does this as a weekly tradition with our daughter). A thanks to those ladies that work and those that stay home.  A thanks to those that step parent (because you are still mommies too). Thank you all, for all that you do. You are thought of, loved and appreciated. <3 

*This is my mother long before she had me.  She was born and raised in South Korea.  Beautiful, compassionate and amazing.  Although I lost her when I was only 13, she resonates within me with everything I do.* 

I love you mom.  Happy Momma's Day to you. <3

National Bereaved Mother's Day

I guess I’m a bit late for this one and I apologize for that.  I heard that today is National Bereaved Mother’s Day.  This day is to help honor and celebrate the mothers who weren't able to carry their children in their arms, but rather in their hearts.  It’s a time to lend support and love to those that have experienced loss, whether through a stillborn or miscarriage.  These women are still mothers…just to wee angels now.  If you know someone who has experienced a loss, please remember to hold them in your thoughts and hearts today.  Know that they need to be recognized for their strength and determination to continue living life to the fullest; despite the extreme loss they have or are going through. 

I remember seeing the term “Rainbow baby” a few weeks back.  This term is used for a baby that is born following a stillbirth or miscarriage.  I think the term is so beautiful.  It lets us know that there can sometimes be something wonderful and special after a storm.  A rainbow is a sight to behold.  I have a rainbow baby in my family; my son.  I look at him every day and realize that I have been blessed.

I've known a few people in my time that have experienced a stillborn or miscarriage.  I am one of those people who have suffered a loss.  I mentioned in my last post about recent events that have shown how vulnerable we can become once we are faced with this heartache. This last one was actually my 3^rd miscarriage. 

I experienced one a year before my son was ever conceived.  I thought all was going well, but when I hit 13 weeks, I knew something wasn't right.  I headed in for what I thought was going to be a routine prenatal appointment, but instead, was met with terrible news.  There was a sac, but no baby.  I was told I was inevitably going to miscarry.  A few days later, late at night, I started to experience bleeding.  It was horrendous.  After an hour or so, I realized there was something VERY wrong.  I bled so much, I started to get lightheaded and dizzy.  My boyfriend at the time and I rushed to the emergency room and discovered that I was hemorrhaging.  They gave me some pain meds via IV and informed me that there was no other choice but to head to surgery for a D&C.  I will never forget the damage (emotionally) that the miscarriage had inflicted on me…and my relationship.  I will NEVER forget that first baby.  Although I was told there wasn't a baby, only a sac…that was still a pregnancy to me.  Sometime during that, something was trying to grow; a life was trying to grow.

I know this may sound strange or even out of place to some, but although I may not know some of you, you have a friend in me.  You are not alone and do not have to face any of this on your own.  If you need someone to talk to or just to shoot the breeze…you can count on me.  I will do my best to be there. :) 

As I stated in my previous blog post…WE are NOT alone. <3  

Pregnancy Loss and Miscarriage...My Emotional Journey

I know this is only my second blog post, but in lieu of recent events, I guess the best way to go about writing this is to just come straight out and say it. It’s difficult to put into words, even though many people that know me, know I’m quite the talker. ;)  I thought it best to talk about something that happened to me and my family recently, something very serious. My husband, James and I aren't ones to talk about our personal lives much, least not on social media.  We tend to keep personal things between us or we just share it with family and friends.  I will try to keep it straight to the point and as clean as possible.  There’s a lot that has happened, so be prepared for some reading. >.<

Not a lot of women (or their significant others) tend to discuss this often, for fear of…whatever; fear of judgment, rejection or just fear of the uncertainty of finding the right words to discuss it.  Sometimes it is just a private matter that is kept personal within the family.  This difficult topic is: Pregnancy loss; miscarriage. 

James and I have wanted to have one more child…just one more, to help complete our little family.  We relished the idea of having a sibling for our other two children.  I’m not old, but definitely not as young as I used to be (I’ll be 37 this year.) I was on the IUD for about 4 years.  I had the IUD removed in October of 2013. We tried for a whole year and nothing happened.  We were beginning to wonder if our window of time had left us. In October of 2014, I missed my menstrual.  At first, I thought it was just from the stress of trying.  I mean, come on…we’re supposed to enjoy those precious and private moments with our significant other. ;)  Well, I decided to take a pregnancy test…or 3…or 4 (I lost count from the impending excitement).  The tests were positive…we were going to be expecting!  We didn't want to get our hopes up, but couldn't hold in some of the excitement.  I called up my doctor and set up our first appointment.  While at the appointment, they did the usual tests (weight, height and urine…just to be sure I was pregnant).  According to my calculations, I should’ve been about 1-2 weeks along (3-4 weeks, if you count from the beginning of the first day of my last menstrual).  When I received the results from my urine test, my HCG (pregnancy hormones) levels were very low.  They should’ve been significantly higher. Out of concern, they had me come back about 48 hours later to retest (my levels should double or tripled by then), instead, they dropped.  We realized at that point, the pregnancy was a loss.  A few days later, I began my miscarriage.  It was a 3 day ordeal that was not only excruciating physical, but emotionally taxing.  It was a huge let down for our family.  We were having a difficult time processing what happened.  Only a few people had known about this.   This was in November 2014.  Miscarriage is a terrible loss on not only the mother, but the father and whoever else is involved (in our case, our two children). 

Fast forward to March 2015.  James and I weren't “actively” trying to get pregnant, but we weren't dismissing the notion either.  Something told me in early March, to take a test.  My instincts were calling out to me.  I happened to have an extra pregnancy test and decided to use it.  I thought my eyes were betraying me, as I saw a VERY faint second line.  I left, came back to the bathroom a few minutes later and the line was gone.  I thought that I since I had wanted to be pregnant, that probably my eyes were playing tricks on me.  I went to the store and decided to purchase another box, just to put an end to my curiosity. I took one test the next day and to my surprise, I saw that faint second line again. I decided to take a picture (don’t want James thinking I’m going crazy on him).  I took the last test the very next morning…that one was definitely positive.  I threw that stick in James’s face and squealed with joy.  Although we had the proof in my hand, our apprehension about the whole thing was visibly noticeable.  James was unsure on how to handle the whole thing, as he was still trying to process, emotionally, what we went through in November.  We set ourselves up to accept the fact that we were indeed expecting again.  Again, I set myself up with an appointment with my doctor.  Again, I did the usual round of tests.  Again, we waited patiently to hear the news.  This time?  My HCG levels were where they were supposed to be (I was as far along as I was when I miscarried in November).  Because of what happened last time, the doctor thought it best to come back and retest just to make sure my levels were going up appropriately.  I came back, retested and blessings be…they went up!  YAY!  We decided that with this pregnancy (as it would be our last) we wanted to be as natural as possible.  We looked into a birthing center and midwife.  We found a wonderful one located less than 30 minutes from our home.  The staff at this center was not only pleasant, but very accommodating and knowledgeable.  We knew we were in the right place. Our journey started now…

On the 6^th of April, I started bleeding.  I told James that I thought it would be a good idea that we head to the ER just to be on the safe side, as I was also experiencing cramping.  We entered the ER with fear in our hearts.  This whole time, our kids had to come with us because unfortunately, we didn't have the time to find someone to care for them while this ordeal was going on.  The ER doctor and staff hooked me up to an IV and drew some blood for testing.  I had to give urine for testing as well.  I was then informed that just go be on the safe side, an inner ultrasound would be needed (as I wasn't quite far enough along for an outer scan…I should been around 9 weeks by this point).  The ultrasound was invasive, but necessary. I hurt from the cramping and pressure of the device and I knew it was only making my bleeding worse.  The poor technician was doing everything she could to be as gentle and quick as possible. Obviously, due to the seriousness of things, she was unable to tell us much of anything.  We had to find out results from the doctor after tests were revealed.  Bad news…sac was measuring only 5 weeks along.  Good news…my HCG levels were still increasing.  At this point?  We weren't sure what was going to happen and what news our future held.  I was told by the doctor that I had a possible miscarriage going on.  I just shut my eyes and held back my tears.  Again?  No…not again.  Can’t be.  I still held out hope.  After a few hours, we were released.  James and I took our kids and headed home.

I talked with my midwife the following day, about what steps were needed to be taken next.  We scheduled for another ultrasound the following Monday.  We wanted to see what was going on, as they weren't completely sure themselves.  When that Monday rolled around, James, I and Bre headed to our appointment. I had hoped that I was able to have my husband and daughter in the room with me for support, but I found out when I arrived, I was the only one who could go back with the technician.  That just made my heart heavy…being alone. As we were in the room, I tried to keep a smile on my face and keep my spirits up.  I just held on to that hope.  Again, the technician wasn't allowed to share any information with me, which only amped up my tension, stress and anticipation.  I could’ve strangled hope at that point.  After everything was said and done, the technician told me that she was going to see if the radiologist would be able to take the time to talk to me about my results…something told me this was only going to end badly, but again…there was that hope.  The technician came back (after what seemed like an hour) and told me that the radiologist was talking to my midwife about what to do and that it would probably be best to hear it from her.  Great…more waiting?  I didn't know how much more of the waiting I could take.  My hope was dwindling.  I left with my family and a somber heart.  We decided that since we were right across the street from the birthing center, I could just shoot straight over there and see if I can get answers right then.  I hate waiting. I chose to go into the birthing center myself. James and Bre waited in the car while I exited.  I slowly made my way to the front door; my feet were heavy and dragging. I entered the door and right away, I knew.  Even though the lovely receptionist was unable to tell me, I could see it in her face.  When I entered, she told me she would try to get a hold of the midwife so I can talk to her directly.  At that point, I realized my phone had buzzed. I had received a notification for something.  Uh-oh.  Realizing it was just the receptionist and myself (she already knew the answer, as she saw my information via computer), I just put the voicemail on speaker.  I heard the words as clear as day.  Everything else around me went silent.  You could've heard…what’s the expression?  A pin drop. “Brenda, I’m so sorry.  I’m sorry to hear about your loss.  I would like to talk to you, please call me at………..”  The rest of the message just sort of faded out.  I just hung up the phone and sat there.  I tried to smile, I really did.  The receptionist knew that a hug was definitely in order.  She stood up from her desk, walked around and gave me the most comforting hug.  I mean, this was the hug of all hugs.  I broke down.  Although I knew what the answer was going to be, it was harder hearing it.  We talked a few minutes about the blessings that I do have; my two amazing, incredible, beautiful and wonderful children.  I headed downstairs, tissue in hand and walked my way to the car.  James looked up and the look on his face said that he read my body language and understood.  I slowly slid in the car, buckled up and in the sad silence, we all headed home.  Later that evening, my midwife called me and we talked a long time about everything that happened and what’s expected to happen in the future.  She told me that I should show signs of miscarrying within the month and if nothing happens, I need to let my OBGYN or her know.  This way, the necessary steps can be taken to help move things along. 

At this point, I had had some nasty morning sickness for about 2 weeks.  It wasn't so bad that I couldn't somewhat function, but it was a bother.  The following week, it became so intolerable, that I couldn't consume anything without it coming back out the same way it went in.  Everything tasted bad.  We have well water in our neighborhood and I couldn't even drink that; tasted like saliva and metal, which was making me gag and throw up even more.  So, not only could I not consume food, I wasn't even able to get a good amount of fluids in my system.  Dehydration was becoming evident.  More saliva buildup from lack of fluids.  Chapped lips. Dark urine. Weak body. It was just a vicious cycle.  The first part of the week, I was bleeding some, so I had thought that perhaps, my miscarriage was beginning.  Hopefully, this was the beginning to the end of the whole morning sickness ordeal.  I was beginning to get concerned, but kept reassuring myself that I could persevere.  I WOULD persevere.  After a few days, the bleeding waned off, but the morning sickness only got worse.  Not good. I spent about 6 days dealing with this before I started to notice that something was wrong…REALLY wrong.  I was so weak from coughing, throwing up, lack of nutrients and dehydration that it was VERY evident in my appearance.  I had dark, bruise like circles around my eyes, my ribs and hips were bruised from coughing and throwing up.  My thighs were chapped from involuntarily urinating (although I already used the restroom) while coughing and throwing up.  I was an ugly mess and everyone saw it.  I felt horrible.  I couldn't take proper care of my children.  I couldn't have my tasty homemade meals ready for my hubby when he came home from work.  I couldn't wash a dish or do a load of laundry.  I barely had enough energy to walk from one room to the other.  When I started to have problems breathing from the indigestion and stomach acid, I realized I needed to admit something was wrong and I was in some serious need of medical attention.  I lost 5 lbs that whole week, my hair was falling out and I brushed my teeth and mouth washed every chance I got, but I felt like my teeth were rotting out from all the stomach acid. I felt dirty outside and in.  I knew something was wrong.  More than anything, I knew I couldn't fix myself; I needed help. 

I told James via text (I couldn't get out of bed) that I knew that I needed help and it would be a good idea for us to head to the ER tomorrow.  That man is amazing.  Did I say that already?  Yes, he’s AMAZING.  The very next day we prepared ourselves, daughter in tow, (son was in school) and headed to the local ER.  We entered there afraid of what next was going to be dished to us on a dirty plate.  We went to our room and waited.  I mentioned earlier I hated waiting…I wasn't kidding.  I HATE it. Again, that blasted IV.  Again, give some more blood and urine for testing.  My doctor came in and I have to say, it was one of my highlights to the evening.  He reminded us a bit of Doogie Howser. I had no clue doctors could look so young.  Well, he knew what he was talking about.  He laid it out very straight.  I was going to need another ultrasound, an x-ray, a battery of tests and then we’ll see where we’re at.  He assured us he would do everything he could to make our stay comfortable and that he would get to the bottom of what was going on.  It helped, not much, but nonetheless.  We needed more hope.  I was running out of that glittery stuff.

To help alleviate my extreme nausea and to try and get some fluids in me, they hooked up my IV some much needed liquid hydration.  I could FEEL the fluids entering my system. I've been on IVs before, but never while this dehydrated.  I knew I needed it, because I could feel where it was traveling.  It was an odd, yet refreshingly cool feeling at the same time.  To help ease my nausea, they gifted me with something called Zofran.  This was liquid Heaven.  Within 10 minutes, I could drink water, plain water and it tasted incredible.  James and Bre headed to McDonald’s to pick up some food.  Not the best in the world, but options were limited and hell, we needed something. During this time, the x-ray technician came and brought her thingamabob of an x-ray machine.  This thing was strange.  In about 5 minutes, sitting in my bed, she did my chest x-ray.  I was blown away at the technology this woman rolled around with her.  It’s incredible to see how far technology has come throughout the years.

By this time, James and Bre returned with the toxic McDonald’s. I tell you right now, I loathe McDs, but I had those nuggets and it was like eating a fancy meal.  The taste was INTENSE. I wince saying that, but they were so tasty.  (When you haven’t eaten in a week, you’d think they tasted good too, so don’t judge. ;)) Shortly after, the ultrasound tech brought in her machine.  She did what she could to make me comfortable.  Of course, couldn’t tell me anything, but at this point, I didn't want to know.  I was scared.  Stupid waiting. The ER doctor came in with my results.  I gripped my hands together until my knuckles were white. He told me that the tests revealed that I did have the beginning of a UTI.  Oh good I thought.  If that’s the worst, I’m still glad I came in.  But…  But?  What but?  He tells me that according to my HCG levels and the ultrasound, I have something called a complete Molar pregnancy.  I was like, “A what???”  I had heard of the term, but had no clue what he was saying.  Apparently it’s something that is rare.  Not so rare that it’s unheard of, but rare enough.  It’s where the cells that are supposed to form into a fetus, don’t.  They just stay cells and keep reproducing.  So essentially, I have a bundle of cells in my uterus that just keep reproducing more cells, getting bigger and bigger.  Nothing else is going on though.  This, in turn, causes my HCG levels to continue to slowly rise.  In a sense, it tricks my body into thinking it’s still pregnant, although there isn’t a fetus in sight. If I hadn't of come in, the morning sickness would've likely continued and this could've progressed into something worse.  The only option?  To do a D&C.  (For those that don’t know, they basically go up your woohoo, dilate your cervix and do a clean sweep of your uterus to make sure all foreign objects are disposed of properly. It is an invasive surgery.)  After he left to make the necessary phone calls, I sat in my bed, stunned at the news.  I was confused.  I was unsure on how to process the information given.  James and I looked at each other and stared blankly.  We didn't know what to say to one another.  I picked up my phone and decided to WebMD the information.  What I read further freaked me out.  According to WebMD, a Molar pregnancy, if not taken care of properly, can possible progress into a rare form of cancer.  OMG!  I saw that word and pulled my knees up to my chest.  Cancer.  I could end up with that?  I’m so glad that I trusted my instincts to come in.  What if I had continued thinking I could handle this on my own, just as I had in the past?  

OMG…OMG…OMG…

Within 15 minutes or so, the doctor returned and let us know that surgery was imminent and would be happening that day.  OMG…OH…MY...GOD!  An ambulance was already en route to pick me up and take me to the medical center where my OBGYN was waiting for me. I almost turned blue from holding my breath from the shock of it all.  There was so much information to take in at one time.  Since James and Bre had to pick up Gabe when he arrived home from school, he decided to head out early and just meet me at the hospital. 

The ambulance and EMTs arrived shortly, assisted me up on their skinny bed (fat people like me don’t fare well on the stick beds), made sure I was buckled in for safety (we don’t want my rolls getting in the way) and loaded me into their ambulance.  These guys were awesome.  They had a very caring demeanor and made sure that I was comfortable the entire trip.  (I can guarantee that many people in the medical field don’t get enough credit these days, so don’t forget to thank those that give their all to provide you with the best possible care.)

After arriving at the hospital, the staff was already waiting and ready for me.  As I was checking in at the front desk, James and the kids showed up.  They weren't even there 5 minutes and Bre piped up and said, “Daddy hit a lady on a bike in the car!”  I just asked, “What?”  I was trying to figure out what she was saying. Gabe starts to tell me what happened and James is facing the kids and trying to shush them.  Noticeably frazzled and panicked, James proceeds to tell me how on their way to the hospital while getting off the freeway, they stopped and were waiting to turn.  As they were ready to take their turn, James and a woman on her bike didn't see each other in time and BAM!  The collision occurred.  I didn't find out all the details about this until the following day.  James promised that he was going to return and pick her up so that she could be seen in the ER for any injuries that she might have acquired.  I couldn't believe our bad luck.  It was just one thing after another.  I felt horrible for the woman.  In the back of my mind during my ordeal, I kept thinking about her, James, Bre and Gabe and everything they might be going through.  I was all over the place…scatterbrained.  James and Bre headed on their way as Gabe and I were led up to the floor I would be residing on. 

Gabe seemed somewhat aloof to all that was going on.  I hugged him hard and reassured him that the surgery was a good thing and it was going to help me on my road to recovery. I missed being the mom that I was. Although the emotional part concerning the loss of the pregnancy hadn't fully hit me yet, I relished the idea of having the surgery so we could work towards a recovery.  I wanted to feel BETTER. I wanted to HEAL.

Within about 15 minutes of our arrival, they were ready for me.  Slowly, I removed all piercings and placed them cautiously into the plastic cup with lid that was provided to me.  I looked at Gabe and told him I would be okay and that James and Bre should be back soon.  They wheeled me to the stalls that allowed them to prep me for surgery.  I had the privilege to don on a beautiful (sarcastically speaking) lavender colored surgery robe.  I answered all their questions like a pro.  One of their final checks, they asked me if I removed all jewelry.  I felt my ears…check. I checked my nose…check.  I checked my hands…OH!  I looked down and realized I still had my wedding ring on.  I almost never remove it, unless I’m making meatloaf.  Don’t want any raw meat getting hooked up on this gorgeous bling. I was going to remove the ring, when the nurse asking me questions, told me not to worry about it.  She smiled and said that I could keep it on and they could just place some tape over it so it doesn't affect anything during surgery.  That brought a huge sense of comfort to me.  During the 15-20 minutes that I waited to get into surgery, I talked with the anesthesiologist and of course, my lovely OBGYN.  Their incredible dedication to making sure I was as comfortable as possible, helped to move things along.  Shortly after, they wheeled me into the surgical room.  I looked up and saw everyone moving around; seemingly like a flash.  The anesthesiologist looked down at me and smiled.  She placed the oxygen mask over my face and informed me that she would be giving my medicine.  Slowly and surely, I started to fade into sleep.

I’m not exactly sure how long I was in surgery.  I just remember waking up in one of the recovery stalls, feeling like I swallowed a large rock.  A nurse came and removed, what I believe was my breathing tube, out of my mouth.  Ahh, finally I could breathe.  I blinked in and out of a fuzzy view.  I knew I needed to wake up soon, but it was hard.  I hadn't had a decent night’s sleep for over a week.  I was sucking this up for all it was worth.  Once I started to rouse, the nurse removed my oxygen mask and asked me how I was feeling.  I was surprised at how alert I was.  Darn, I lost my chance to sleep some more. They let me know that James and the children were waiting for me in my room and that whenever I was feeling ready, they’ll take me there.  I missed those three SO bad.  I missed the children and their smiles and I miss James…man did I miss him.  I knew this was so very hard on him as it was me.

Once they wheeled me back in the room where my family was waiting, I could see their smiling faces.  I think knowing that I made it out ok, helped set some nerves to ease.  The nurses were so dedicated to making sure I felt totally comfortable and at ease.  They gave me some more of that miracle liquid…Zofran.  I felt like I could conquer the world!  It was almost an immediate and noticeable difference.   I was HUNGRY. The nurse asked me if she could get me anything and all I could think of was a sandwich.  A little searching and the nurse was able to bring me a sandwich, chocolate pudding, orange drink and a few other food items.  I was in food heaven.  I ate almost everything.  I thought I was going to burst at the seams.  After eating, James and I chatted up a bit about how I was feeling and if I was ready to head home and get some sound sleep. The kids were noticeably tired and I could tell from the dark circles under my loving husband’s eyes, he had his fill of thrills for the week.  There was only one thing that I needed to do before I was permitted to leave and that was make sure I could urinate.  Oh no…I still had to pee.  I was scared, I won’t deny it. My lower region was something to be feared these days.  Considering all that I have been through, I was petrified to do the one thing that should come to me naturally.  I bravely entered that bathroom and did my thing.  No problems.  Phew.  All was well.  With the ok from my doctor and the head nurse, I signed the necessary papers, dressed myself, put all my jewelry back in and on and gathered my things.  A woman came into the room pushing my wheelchair.  With a great sigh of relief, we all headed downstairs to the ER entrance so that I could get into the car. While the kids and I waited a few for James to bring around the car, the woman and I chatted a bit about travel.  It was nice to think of something pleasant instead of focusing on all the negative that had happened over the course of the last month.  Once everyone was in the car and buckled, we headed on our way home.  There was a sense of peace that seemed to resonate within the car that evening. 

Once we arrived home, we sat in the car for about 5 minutes, sucking up the much needed silence.  We got the kids out and got them ready for bed.  After the kids were in bed, James and I stayed up for a little bit and talked about everything that had happened.  I let James know how much I loved and appreciated all his support.  He’s amazing and sometimes he doesn't realize how wonderful he truly is.  His love, support, compassion for life, perseverance and hard work, make him more than just a valuable member of society, but a loyal husband and friend and a loving father.  He is truly a pioneer within our family.  During all this, I don’t know if I could’ve quite held it all together if it hadn't been for James’s support.  He is truly my gift from the universe.

A few days later, I have to say, I feel 10 times better than I had ever felt this past month.  I was able to get up and enjoy my first cup of coffee in 3 weeks.   It wasn't the caffeine I needed, but the comfort of something warm and sweet.  Comfort.  Home.  Family. Freedom .  Most importantly, I had my health.  This is the beginning on a hard road to recovery.  This isn't just physically, but emotionally daunting.  It will take time for our family to heal from something like this. I’m not completely out of danger yet, as I still have to get weekly testing to ensure that my HCG levels are dropping; proof that the surgery was a success.  Only time will tell. 

This has been hard on us because we've decided to forgo the idea of having another child biologically.  We wanted more than anything to have another biological child, but due to all that has happened in the last 6 months, we realized there’s a good possibility, that it isn't something within our reach.  I’ll admit that I am petrified.  I've always managed to have pretty good health, but these losses were taking their toll on me.  After much talk, we knew that even if that possibility was no longer in reach, we are going to be ok.  You know why?  We have a handsome son, Gabriel and a beautiful daughter, Breanna.  There are people out there that can’t have children.  We should feel blessed to have the two that we have.  I’m ok with counting my blessings.  These blessings are simply a beautiful creation that my body made.  I can’t forgo that knowledge that I created two babies with this body. 

I will NEVER forget the babies that I had lost through miscarriage. They will forever be in my thoughts and will always have a special place in my heart.  I just need to remind myself that there are two special children that are alive and walking around and they NEED me.  I’m good knowing that. 

I know people probably want to know what was going through my head to make me want to share my inner, most private family moments.  It’s okay, I don’t mind sharing.  James and I talked long about this before I even made the steps to actually follow through with doing this blog.  I wanted his input and value it greatly. We realized that this wasn’t just a private experience, but a chance to share something important with others.  I know as a mother, how hard it is to put yourself first when it comes to your health, especially if you are used to be on the go, like I am.  We also want the best for our kids. I’m so used to bouncing back when I get sick (getting sick is a rare occurrence for myself and my husband), that I’m afraid to admit when I do reach a point where I need to ask for help.  My husband has been there himself with his own health issues.  Its pride, but not the kind that make a person seem selfish or stuck up.  This pride is about wanting the best for the rest of your family and forgetting to respect our bodies and listen…listen to your instincts. I know that if I hadn't of listened to my instincts, I don’t think I would've known or would've been able to have early care for myself. I trusted my body and listened.  That helped me to understand that when something was wrong, I knew it and faced it head on.  What happened to me can happen to any woman.  Something like this doesn't just affect the woman, but her significant other (if there is one) and children (or child…or if there are any).  I know now, I would rather take the preventative care and there be nothing wrong, then wait, thinking it will pass on its own and then it turn into something worse (in my case, cancerous or deadly) later on.

Loss and miscarriage is never easy to talk about anyway.  Many people view it as a private matter and in many ways, so do I.  This one time, I felt the urge so strongly to talk about our experience.  Something inside pushed me to make the leap and share my story with others so they know they’re not alone.  Each person has their own experiences and deals with them in their own way.  The worst thing to do is to hold it in and act like it didn't happen.  The hurt, frustration and anger just end up sitting there and rotting.  Don’t do that to yourself.  You owe it to yourself to talk about it, whether out loud to others or privately, within your own family or in a journal.  Give yourself time to heal.  Most importantly, don’t forget to love yourself and know it isn't your fault. <3 

Introduction To My Mess

I'm a bit new to the blogging circle...haven't done much talking online before (other than being a Facebook junkie...yes, I'll admit).  I'm more of a "live" talker.  If you are in front of me, then let's socialize.  I'm awkward, at best, when it comes to doing something like this.  I'm a VERY personal person and sometimes, it takes me a little bit to open up.  Well, here I am, opening up.  Don't worry though, I won't EXPLODE on you.  

For starters, I'll give you a little bit of info as to who I am.  My name is Brenda Caldwell.  I'm a 36 year old (fairly) newlywed, married to an incredibly sweet, caring and inspirational man named James.  In our family is our son Gabriel, our daughter Breanna and...not to exclude...our loving dog Ricky, our Nanday Conure Louie and Green Cheeked Conure named Stanley. PHEW!  What a lot to take in! Well, I'm a stay at home mother, wife, artist, baker, cook and craftswoman.  If I think I can do it...I'm gonna darn well try.

(I'm a freelance artist, by trade. I do have Facebook, Deviant Art and RedBubble pages for viewing and artwork for purchase: https://www.facebook.com/TheCordialArtist , http://thecordialartist.deviantart.com/ ,  http://www.redbubble.com/people/cordialartist )

I think that people forget to look at what's on the inside; view what's sometimes not always uttered in speech...love.  When my husband James and I first started dating, he was the complete OPPOSITE of who I had ever envisioned myself being with.  He was a "Joe" average type of guy; lived alone, had the same family and friends for the last 10 years, same job...etc.  But, we met and 7 years later (and a daughter), we're married and doing pretty well.  We have our moments, but then what relationship doesn't?  So, it goes to show that what we assume isn't always the truth.  Marriage?  That takes work.  You have to work for what you want.  Wedded bliss has to be achieved through hard work; love, compassion, commitment, honesty, trust and compromise.

Love is what it is...pure.  We can't assume we love someone but twist that into something it isn't just because we are angry or don't agree with another person.  That love is either there or it isn't.  For example, I ALWAYS tell my children I love them, no matter how angry I become at their behavior. I can't just hold my love against them (like a grudge) because I disapprove of something they've done.  To me, love shouldn't be used as a weapon.  That's just my personal belief.  

Even if someone doesn't always say the words that sound so sweet to your ears, doesn't mean they don't love you.  Remember all the wonderful things that person has done for you and what you do for them.  Take that in mind and hold it close, because it's those little moments that some people find insignificant that are sometimes the most important and dear. <3