It was May 8, 2011 when I was awoken by my cell phone at eight o'clock in the morning, and anyone who knows me knows better than to blow my phone up that early. The day before we had been in the ER getting a stubborn port accessed after the home health nurse failed to get the needle in the right place to run my TPN. We went in, they drew blood, ran some x-rays, put the need in and sent me on my way. Who was I to think anything more would come out of that? I was incredibly wrong. That phone call was from the chief of emergency medicine telling me that he needed me to come back to the hospital immediately because the blood they had drawn the day before showed that I had an infection in my line and possibly in my blood stream. Up until that point I knew that having a central meant that at one point I could very well get an infection, but I really didn't think it would happen to me, but we all think it isn't going to happen to us. He immediately informed me to pack and bag and get to the ER as soon as possible and be prepared to stay.
Our other kids were with their biological egg donor, so my man pulled me weakened out of bed and started backing a bag together unknown to us how long I would be there. Part of me thought they were just freaking out, I had never had an infection before and I had been on TPN for a year through a PICC line in my arm with no issue. I went into robot mode as Josh reminded me of all the things I needed to pack to take to the hospital with me, always cool in a crisis situation. Me, I went for the denial part of the equation.. I kept telling myself I was fine, no fever, I had a headache and my legs were hurting really bad. I tried to tell Josh I was fine and that he should just go to work and not worry about dropping me of at the hospital, but this wasn't his first rodeo with me and before I knew it I was in the back seat of our friend's car headed to the hospital. As we pulled into the ER entrance Josh helped me out of the car, handed me my pillow, gave me a kiss, told me he loved me, and that he would be back as soon as he could get off work. I waved with tears down my face as they pulled away and I turned to check into my least favorite place in the world.
I waited about twenty minutes before they called me back, not triage just put me straight into a room It was a matter of a few moments before the chief came in and told me that the blood cultures they had drawn the day before had already begun growing two bacteria not just in the line, but it had spread everywhere in my blood stream...I would not be going home anytime soon. They hooked up me up to a nice cocktail of antibiotics that made me feel worse than I did when I came in, moved me into a room, and there I would spend my first mother's day...along...without my three little step kids whom I had grown to love so much.
I spent the days bitter towards doctors telling them I wanted to go home, that I wasn't that sick, and finally I convinced them to let me go home on IV antibiotics with extra nursing checking in around the clock. I had faced my first bout of sepsis and lived to tell the tail, little did we know there would be so much more to that story than just spending mother's day in the hospital being woken up by my husband to tell me that our middle son had given our daughter a buzz cut...Figured that was the extent of my story remembering my first infection....boy was I so very wrong.
I got home and had weeks of running a nasty, but effective antibiotic that made me incredibly sick while killing the infection in my blood and my central line. About six weeks after I got out of the hospital I began having more and more vomiting spells, to the point that when Josh cooked eggs for the kid's breakfast I couldn't even come in the kitchen without throwing up. Now with gasttoparesis vomiting isn't exactly a rare thing you deal with, but I had never been triggered so much by smells. So, in mid-July when I was going in for my weekly check up to discuss the results of my port removal and the cultures from my PICC line to make sure that I was clear to have another line placed in my chest for my nutrition I found myself asking a few more questions. At the time I looked my doc in the eye and said I think I have an UTI, and reported that my nausea had gotten even more out of control. She stopped in her tracks to tell me it wasn't possible. They had been telling me for years that there was no way that I would ever have a child of my own, no way my body could sustain a pregnancy. She rolled her eyes, and told me that she would run a pregnancy test even though we had already discussed that I would never have any babies of my own...I was only 24 years old. I peed in a cup and with my head hanging low I got on the bus and went home expecting nothing.
I walked into our quiet apartment, kids at school, Josh running errands, and all I could do was just sit on the couch and think about how I would never be able to have a baby of my own. As I let myself sit there wallowing in despair over an issue that I thought I had already made peace with. Then my phone rang, I answered expecting to hear that she had called n antibiotics and more stomach meds, but I was clearly wrong. The first words she blurted out were, "You are PREGNANT"! I always thought my reaction would be to scream or something, but all I could do was go silent and fall to the couch. They had told me there was no way we could safely have a baby, but there was a baby growing inside my stomach. She told me that she had already got on the phone with OB and high risk and we would go from there.. Before I even had a chance to process everything Josh came bursting through the door freaking out because I wouldn't ell him what the doctor had said, so he automatically assumed the infection was back and I was headed back to the hospital. When I told him that I was pregnant he dropped his brand new phone on the table and repeated some words I would rather not advertise. I was pregnant....they had said it was impossible and then God gave us this miracle.
I remember that first doctor's appointment where they tried to say that there was no way that we would survive the pregnancy because I was too sick to support a baby for nine months. They said I would die, the baby would die, or we would both die. All I could do was stand up and let them know that was a risk I was more than willing to take...THEY had said that I wouldn't have a baby and here I was with a life growing inside of me, I had just see his first picture looking like peanut...if this wasn't a gift from God then I didn't know what was, and from that moment on I made sure that everyone knew that baby was going to make it to full term and we were both going to be alright. For nine months our lives revolved around OB appointments, surgery to put another feeding tube in to stop the TPN so we could reduce the risk of infection, there was bed rest, and even a special test they had to do when I tested positive for cancer, and by the grace of God all of that worked out. I stayed on bedrest, tube feeding my lil man, fighting through the pain because I knew that we would make it. And, at a routine ultrasound and NST at 38 weeks and 2 days showed that the baby was in distress we were rushed down to labor and delivery for our c section a week early. Everyone predicted he would be too small, have to go to the NICU, there would be narcotics in his system that I had to be on just to et through the pain to make sure he got all the nutrition he needed to grow. But, that beautiful lil man came out with his bright blue eyes on Feb. 17. 2011 weighing 6lbs 10 oz 19 inches long, no evidence of narcotics in his system (an absolute miracle even by doc admission), and did not spend one day in the NICU. That was the day I knew I believed in miracles as I looked at that perfect baby staring up at me from my chest as I lay on that operating table.
Here we are five years later, and my baby is growing up, and despite facing the many hurdles that come with autism and speech delay he is still absolutely the greatest gift in my life. I opened his backpack yesterday and pulled out a bag that he had colored, as I opened it I saw it...my very first Mother's Day flower. Something I had given my mom over and over during those elementary years, and on top of that I pulled out a fancy laminated paper with my beautiful little guys' handprint on it and once again I couldn't help but tear up. None of this was suppose to happen, they told me I would never get the flower cups full of dirt from my child's backpack, they told me I would never hold him, look into his eyes, I would never tickle him, and watch him learn new things. They told me there were no miracles...only science, and science told me that I should have terminated my pregnancy. It was no coincidence that I was admitted to that hospital on Mother's Day, that infection was more than just an infection. God was working through us, and He gave me the chance to trust Him or trust a doctor telling me that I would die if I didn't "end the pregnancy". I was being asked to walk by faith, and I did.
I am no one special, not a doctor, a teacher, in fact I am a recovering anorexic, cutting, I have attempted to take my life many years ago, I am thirty years old living day to day in a body that could shut down at any moment, there are people that don't like me, think I'm a loser, but I refuse to let any of that get to me anymore. I have failed in a lot of ways, but I have done one thing right...I get to be the mother to this beautiful little miracle who keeps climbing up next to me and giving me a kiss. I use to worry so much about what the world thought of me, and then my world suddenly became very small with blond hair and big blue eyes. Those days that I think I don't matter and no one would notice if I weren't around because I don't offer this world much I look into those big blue eyes and realize that I am something important, that little boy that comes up and wraps his arms around me, and wants to spend every moment at my side...to him I am the world. I am the mommy, the giver of snuggles, tickles, maker of pizza, the one t here to say "No" when he is doing something wrong, I am the healer of the boo boos, and the arms that scoop him up and holds him when he cries. When I wrap my arms around him and kiss his tears away all the judgments that come from the world, how everyone thinks about me it just melts away because you can hate me all you want, but I am a good mommy.
This Mother's Day I ask you to just look at your babies and remember how you felt the day your babies were born, when you looked into their eyes and all the pain, all the crap in the world just stopped because in that moment it was just you and that beautiful gift. I was told that I would never be mother and I have this miracle little guy just jumping all over and running up to hug and kiss me. Being his mother is the best thing I've ever done, the most amazing gift I've ever been given by God. The disease I have running through my body may take me out of this world before I'm ready, but I have no regrets, things have been hard, and I'm sure they always will be, but all the mistakes I've made in my life, all the times I've been labeled a screw up, I can say that I've done one thing right...the most important thing....I am a mommy first and foremost, now and forever. I wish you the best Mother's Day this year 2016. Never give up on Miracles.
