Came to My Rescue

5 years ago, when I was going through the adoption process (it's a long process; the home study alone takes 7 months to a year).  During that time I had a lot of doubts.

Doubts that we would even be approved to adopt.

Doubts that if we did get approved that we would never be matched with a child. 

Fears that I'm sure all adoptive parents go through.

Going through that long wait, and dealing with that anxiety caused many sleepless nights.  I would stay up until 2, sometimes 3 a.m,. and my only solace was to research the hell out of adoption.  I'm the type of person who needs tons of details and information to ease my anxiety.  The more I can understand something, the less anxious I will be.

 I would google adoption blogs and I would read every single one I could find. There was this one woman, who sadly I cannot even remember the name of her or her blog, but her words resonated with me.  I bookmarked her blog site, and of all the blogs I read (hundreds!) I always came back to hers.

Towards the end of the home study process when my anxiety was at a high, I was visiting her website nightly, and her words comforted me and gave me hope.  Not the kind of foolish hope that believed that everything would definitely work out perfectly, but the kind of hope that made me feel that it was a possibility that things could work out.  Hope is about the possibility, not the guarantee. To believe that there is a possibility that things can work out beautifully when all the research and all the signs say it won't.   I think it's crucial to hope; to know that there is always a possibility that things can play out the way we want.  But, also, you must have faith that no matter the outcome it will be okay.  Something beautiful can come from either outcome.

This woman had a song that would play on her blog site.  I am not tech savvy and have no clue how to have music play on my web page.  But hers did.   I wasn't a huge fan of the song.  It was a worship song, and I found it to be kind of cheesy, but I grew to love it because I loved this woman's words.  It was love by association.  Every time I went to her blog and heard those first notes start to play I felt a tiny sliver of peace.

I never hear that song, even when I listen to the Christian radio station. 

Well, jump to 5 years later.

This week was an emotionally draining week.  It was rough....rougher than rough.  I was kind of in a daze and overwhelmed by the magnitude of uncertainty and sadness I felt in certain areas of my life, and I've just been poring into prayer and trying to have hope and faith in the creator of the universe to sort it all out.  

Yesterday I was listening to Pandora (a Christian station),  I glanced up from doing the dishes and started watching my 3 children playing outside in the backyard, and I was suddenly overwhelmed with joy at the fact that I have 3 children. 

And that they were happy. 

And they were playing. 

And the sun was shining. 

And as I'm staring in awe at them, I kid you not, that song started playing on Pandora. 

I had not heard it in years.  I believe that God speaks in so many ways.  And in that moment he spoke through that song, because as soon as those notes started playing my mind flashed back to 5 years ago, standing in my case worker's office to pick up my copy of our home study, which had just been completed.

I remember being so excited to have it finally completed, and I was so ready to meet whatever child God had destined for me.

I asked our case worker "So what is the next step?  How soon will we be matched with a child?"

And I will never forget her response, because it was one of the most heartbreaking moments of my life.

She hesitated, then said,

"We really don't like to give time lines.  It could take up to 3 years...possibly longer for you... because you and Daniel are not 'ideal candidates'  I mean, with your health issues...and the fact that you are young and haven't been married very long...

 And to be honest, even if you are matched with a child, you still have to go to committee for that child.  After you're chosen you have to go before a committee with the other families that are chosen, and the committee has to choose between you and the other potential adoptive families that are interested in the child. I am working with a family right now who has been waiting 5 years. They've been to committee 3 times and have still not been chosen.  So, I wouldn't get my hopes up that things will happen quickly."

It was devastating.  I cried in my car. And I cried again in the shower. 

And again when Dan got home. 

And when I went to bed.

That night I went back to that blog that was bookmarked, read her words, and listened to that song.

When I heard that song yesterday after not hearing it for years, I was flooded with emotion.

I remembered how dark and fearful that time period was for me.  But more importantly, I was reminded of the outcome of that situation.

Our home study was complete at the end of December. 

We sent an inquiry on the boys the first week of January.

On January 9th we were matched with the boys. 

2 months later (middle of March) committee chose us.

We met the boys at the end of March. 

We brought them home in April.

We were told it could take YEARS, yet we had our children in our home less than 5 months after the home study was complete.


Yesterday I looked down at Pandora to see the name of the song, and its title is
"Came to My Rescue"

I never knew the title until yesterday, and how perfect is that?

When we are at our lowest points, Satan (the darkness, evil, ego, whatever you want to call the "bad" things of the universe) will convince us that the sadness, or hopelessness, or whatever negative emotion we are currently enduring , he will convince us that it's so much worse than anything we've ever gone through, and we are not capable of escaping it.

It's a lie.

I was reminded of that yesterday.

I have felt hopelessness, sadness, uncertainty, and fear before. 

And every damn time, I have overcome it.

There are times that he truly has come to my rescue, and things worked out the way that I hoped, and that gives me hope. I know miracles are possible.

There are times that things did not go the way I hoped, and it was an excruciating struggle to get through it, but, even still, I got through it. 

So whatever I'm facing, whatever the outcome, I will get through it.

You have felt hopelessness, sadness, uncertainty, and fear before.  And you have overcome it.

God loves to remind us of our darkest moments, so that we can remember that we have been here before.  And we overcame it.

That woman whose blog really helped me, she was not a top blogger.  She was not popular.  She had maybe 5 followers.  I have no damn clue how I even found her.  Obviously the main reason I wanted to share this story is because it's coming up on the 5 year anniversary of when I met my boys, and I love sharing their adoption story.  But another reason is because if my story can bring a tiny sliver of hope or encouragement, to even just one person struggling to find that, then it is worth telling.

Medical Update

We heard back from the Mayo Clinic on their opinion of whether or not I should have a pneumonectomy.  As I suspected,  they believe that the risks of removing my lung outweigh the benefits, so we will not be doing that as long as I remain stable.  I've been out of the hospital a month now with no further bleeding.  If I bleed again, removing my lung will most likely be the solution, but as of right now I am good.

The bleeding was largely due to the fact that I had been sick and coughing very forcefully for over a month prior to the bleeding.  All of that pressure on my vessels and lungs due to the vigorous coughing, I believe (and the doctor agrees) caused the vessels to bleed.  So the main concern right now is to prevent illness; specifically, bronchitis or pneumonia.  

I have started slowly back at work and have cut back on hours.  Seeing as I work in childcare and am surrounded by germs, it is risky.  But I am taking extra precautions as to not get sick, and if I do get sick I will take sufficient time off to recover, so that it does not develop into something serious.  

I'm just trying to go back to normal, without having too much anxiety about my health.  I have appreciated all the prayers.

"I'm So Sorry, But I'm Probably Going to Shit on This Table" (and other things you don't want to say at 33 yrs old)

My last post was intense, and the entire situation is intense. 

My go-to for dealing with intense situations is humor, which is why I believe that God orchestrated that night in such a way that it would guarantee comedy for me.

My Jesus loves me.

He knows I have to turn my heart aches into comedy in order to deal with them. 

He did not fail me.

Everything I wrote in my last post was accurate.  I simply omitted certain parts of that night.  Parts that I will now share with you in hopes that you will appreciate the humor, as I am now able to do.

In the words of the great Usher Raymond "These are my confessions.  If I'm gonna tell it, then I gotta tell it all..."

Yes, it's true, before I coughed up blood that night I had a pretty low-key evening.  I did light house work and I ate homemade soup.

Sounds lovely, right?

What I failed to mention is that earlier that day, my coworker, Alison Langston - yes, I'm calling you out because this story wouldn't exist without you -  brought me a box of  Flaming Hot Cheetos mac n cheese bites to work, because she knows that I love flaming hot Cheetos, and I've never tried these snacks. 

In case you're unfamiliar with these, they are exactly how they sound; macaroni and cheese bites that are covered in flaming hot Cheetos, and fried.

I ate 8 of these as an "appetizer" with my soup.

Another important fact to know about me is that I'm lactose intolerant, and I have an incredibly sensitive stomach.

 Alison knows this.  But I told her that it would be okay for me to eat them that night, because I had no plans to go anywhere (ha!), and Jacob was going to be gone most of the night helping his dad move, so my thinking was that if it did upset my stomach I would be alone in the comfort of my own home, with access to my own bathroom.  

About 20 minutes after I ate them my stomach started acting up.  I had to use the bathroom immediately.  Of course.

Okay, now bear with me with this next part....

For some reason, I happened to notice that my poop looked weird.  

So weird, in fact, that I felt I should examine it...but with what??  How do you examine your own poop?

I grabbed a plastic fork from the kitchen.

I have never, ever, NEVER examined my poop before, but for some reason this night of all the nights in my 33 years of life, I chose to do so.

Remember in the last post when I said that I laid in bed and was googling something on my phone right before I started coughing up blood?

The truth is that I was googling images of weird poop to compare it with my own. 

THERE. I SAID IT.

Now here is where the comedy comes into this disgusting story.

When I checked into the ER, the nurse and my doctor asked me what I was doing that night - leading up to coughing up blood. *hangs face in shame*  I preceded to tell them about my poop; describing it in detail, and shamefully admitting that I dissected it and sifted through it with a plastic fork.

I also admitted this poop story to every cardiologist, intern, nurse, doctor, etc...who came in to speak with me.  I thought that maybe there was some correlation between my strange dookie and my coughing up blood. 

I was wrong.

You know when you're telling someone a story that you think is relevant and interesting, and midway through you see that slight shift in their pupils, and you realize in that moment that they have no interest whatsoever in what you are telling them?  (you actually may have this look in your eyes right now)

That's exactly what happened.

 Midway through telling the 7th person my detailed description of my bodily excrement I realized that my poop had NOTHING to do with my coughing up blood, and I was just humiliating myself and making everyone incredibly uncomfortable.

I didn't think that I could embarrass myself any more that night, but God had other plans. 

Of course.

My stomach was still feeling gross, and I had the sensation that I will need to use the bathroom again very soon.  The doctor told me that they were going to immediately take me into the cath lab.  He also told me that I would be awake during the procedure. 

I was fine with being awake - mostly because I'm a control freak, and felt more comfortable being conscious so I could watch exactly what they were doing.  I did not realize, however, how long the procedure would take.

I attempted to use the bathroom right before we went in, but I couldn't.  

When the nurse took me into the room to put on my gown for the procedure I confessed to her the words I had been thinking but dreaded to say aloud.

"I'm so sorry, but I'm probably going to shit on the table during the procedure.  I had diarrhea earlier and I'm probably going to have it again"

Luckily, I had met this nurse 2 years prior at a barbeque, and we are Facebook friends, so I felt a little bit more comfortable confessing this to her rather than the doctor.  But, as we all know, being Facebook friends with someone that you met once 2 years ago does not make you actual friends, so this confession was still humiliating.

She was very sweet and responded right away with "That's okay. We'll just put extra padding under you.  Don't worry, we've seen it all!"

I appreciated her kindness, and her attempt at trying to make me less embarrassed by claiming they've "seen it all"

But I doubt she has ever seen a 33 yr old woman diarrhea on herself in the children's hospital cath lab.

Yes, that's another thing. I was in a children's hospital.  

The procedure lasted until 2:30 a.m. and  I had to shit the entire time I was laying there. 

So, on top of dealing with the fear of massive bleeding, possible lung removal, death, etc...I was also trying to get my mind off of the fact that I had to poop oh, so badly.

During the procedure they went in through an artery right next to my private area.  As we all know from basic anatomy, the groin region is in very close proximity to the butt hole.  The doctors hands were right there next to my crotch.  So close to my butt. 

The whole time I just kept praying that I wouldn't shit on his hands.

I farted probably 75 times, and was so thankful that they are required to wear those doctor's masks. 

In the end, I did not end up shitting on the table.  As I said before, Jesus loves me.

He gave me just enough comedy to temporarily take my mind off of death, and give me a good laugh, without fully destroying my dignity.

After the procedure, the nurse said to me "You must be so tired.  I saw you squeezing your eyes tight a few times trying to sleep"

I wanted to tell her "No, m'am. I was squeezing my eyes as tight as I was squeezing my butt cheeks, trying to stop myself from shitting on this table"

But I just responded, "Yes, I'm very tired"

It wasn't a complete lie.

Naked Trees

Most of my family and closest friends know my medical history.  If you would like details (because it is way too much for me to summarize) please read my previous post from 2 years ago, titled Psalm 73:26

Without getting into too much detail, I was born with heart disease, had 3 open heart surgeries in my first year of life, and pacemaker placed when I was 8 years old.

It is very common for children and adults with congenital heart disease to develop pulmonary collaterals.  Pulmonary collaterals are arteries that develop within the body to "help" bring blood to poorly functioning lungs.  In the majority of cases, this does not help.  The body believes it is doing a good thing, but these arteries are not necessary and can cause a lot of trouble.  The blood pressure in these extra arteries is usually higher and there's a chance they can bleed.

That's exactly what happened in 2007 when I was pregnant.  They coiled the arteries which were bleeding  (coiling is exactly what it sounds like - they take a wire and literally coil/wrap the wire over and over the artery until it stops blood flow), basically cutting off as much blood supply as they were able to.

Unfortunately, that was not the end of my trouble, because there are many, many collaterals within my lungs and it is near impossible to coil them all. They would have removed the entire left lung if my anatomy was normal, but because of excessive scar tissue and other factors, I was told that attempting to remove it was much more risky than leaving it, even though leaving it in meant that it was at risk to bleed again.

So, since 2007, I've lived my life knowing that there was a possibility of bleeding any day, but remaining hopeful that it would not happen.  All procedures to check on these vessels are too invasive, so the only way to know if they are bleeding is if I start coughing up blood again.

I've lived a normal life for 11 years, and for the most part I have not been consumed with the fear of what could happen.  But I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't reminded every now and then.

Every time I cough forcefully there's this tiny fear in the back of mind that says
"This is it.  It's going to happen again"

And this may seem silly, but in the winter I am reminded every time I look out my window or drive down the road.

Every barren, naked tree I pass is a visual reminder of my anatomy.

After the cardio catheterization 2 years ago, my cardiologist showed me images.  Don't get me wrong,  I loved being able to see these images and understand my condition better.  The inner workings of our lungs/veins looks eerily similar to naked branches of a tree.  And he also explained it using the terms "branches"

"See, this artery comes down like this and then branches off into more vessels"

My lungs have so many pulmonary collaterals and my internal "wiring" is so jacked up that it's just a hot mess of branches going every which way.

So, naturally, when I'm sitting at my kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee, watching the barren trees outside my window, I can't help but be reminded of what's going on internally within me.

Fast forward to January 3, 2018

I had been sick for over a month with a horrible cough.  2 days prior to Januarry 3rd my cough had finally stopped, and I was incredibly relieved. 

The night of January 3rd, I did some light cleaning, ate dinner and then laid in bed at about 8:30 and began googling a random question on my phone.  Out of no where, I had a coughing fit.  As I was coughing I could feel and taste blood gurgling in my throat.  I ran to the bathroom and spit out the mouthful of blood.

Then I calmly called my cardiologist and informed him that I just coughed up blood and would have someone drive me to the hospital.

I called Jacob, he got home in less than 10 minutes, and drove me.

They immediately took me to the cath lab.  They were in my arteries until 2:30 am and never found the source of bleeding.  That's great news!  No active bleeding.  As great as that is, part of me wishes they would have found the source of bleeding and could have coiled it.

The position that puts me in now, is that we are just assuming that it was from my left lung.
And because they are assuming it is that lung (in truth, it most likely is the source of bleeding, but I hate not being certain of things), my doctor believes that I'm at risk for that lung to bleed again at any time.

He believes I should have that lung removed.

I'm hesitant to jump on that wagon, because I had many doctors tell me 10 years ago how risky that procedure would be.

So, here are my current choices:

A.  Get my lung removed, which is risky.

B.  Or...I can choose to not get the surgery (which is also risky) 
That would mean I would be walking around like a ticking time bomb, hoping that I have no further bleeding.  And if I did have further bleeding, then my only option will be A.

Neither choice is appealing.  And the weight of these thoughts and decisions is so heavy.

I am choosing to not choose at the moment.  We are waiting to hear back from the Mayo Clinic on their opinion, and I have a follow up appointment next Tuesday with my cardiologist.

I have faith that I will know the right decision to make, and that God will guide and protect me through either choice. 

I am simply in waiting right now; waiting on the Mayo Clinic; waiting on my body to possibly do something crazy; waiting on God to give me peace about a decision.

All  prayers, positive energy, encouraging words, and kind thoughts that have been given have been so appreciated.  Please keep them coming until we get this all figured out.