First (and last) Full Marathon

    Running a full marathon has been something I have wanted to try for awhile. I have run the Indianapolis Mini Marathon a couple times and run several 5K's. I decided I wanted to run one before I turned 40. That same day I saw someone post on social media about sale prices for the St. Jude's Rock and Roll Marathon in Nashville. I signed up, ordered a training book, and planned my 20 week training plan. 

    Training was tough the first couple of days as I had been working out, but not running regularly. After the first couple weeks my left knee that I had ACL surgery on over 10 years ago started hurting. I began physical therapy. But by week eight my knee did not hurt anymore. I was so excited at how well I was improving and happy that I was enjoying running. Then I realized I messed up my 20-week plan and I was 4 weeks ahead of schedule. In hindsight, I should have just kept pushing forward on the plan, but I decided to slow down and start the plan over. 

    For the first time that I can ever remember, I packed workout clothes on vacation, and I actually used them and stuck to my training plan. I was excited with how healthy I was feeling and seeing changes in my body for the better. Running was giving me a high, especially when I would go early in the morning while most of the world, including my children, were sleeping. I changed my music choices several times, but usually ended up with a Christian workout station on Pandora. This allowed me to also quiet some of my thoughts and listen to the meaning of the words and worship while running.

    By week 14 I hit a wall. I was fighting some depression, anxiety, and stress that I had not really allowed myself to deal with or talk to anyone about. I skipped a run. I paused my gym membership so I could focus on my running as the mileages were adding up and I struggled with both along with my daily responsibilities. But my mind was stronger than my body and I would talk myself out of another run or three. Sometime in the following weeks I ended up with bulging discs in my neck. When I would try to run, I was in terrible pain and would have to walk more of my routes. I started going back for physical therapy. 

    Physical therapy was helping, I was starting to train again. But then our kids started taking turns getting sick and I would have to cancel my sessions. Two weeks before the marathon I debated on canceling or running the half and trying the full another time. It was cold outside, I was tired, I knew I had not been training like I should have. But I decided to push forward and rather than hoping for a finish time of my early weeks in training, I just wanted to be done in the 6 hour time limit. 

    Day of the race came. I could not believe it. I was happy it was finally here. I was sad I had not trained like I had begun and had planned to do up to this day. But I remembered how excited the crowd and entertainment made me on my mini marathons, so I hoped for the same. I had designed a playlist of music to help me if needed. And it was cold! Cold weather makes me have to urinate more. I lined up in my assigned corral about 7:00am. The first corral was released at 7:20am. My spot in my corral finally went through about 7:37am. 

 This is just some dialog in my mind as I completed the marathon:

     Yay! Finally, here we go! Okay, 26.2 miles and I will be done. I can do this. Oh no! It is cold, my toes are starting to feel numb. We are not even a mile down the road. I have to pee! Oh look porta potty's, wait people are cutting in line, I can't start like this, I have to just keep running, I cannot loose time in the first porta potty line! So I keep going. I see mile 3. Really! Already, that isn't so bad at all. Whew, I am hot, I need to loose this jacket, but not until I find a porta potty. I should have brought a sweatshirt I didn't mind leaving on the side of the road. Mile 5, what!? An empty porta potty! Okay, I feel better, I can keep running. What a beautiful neighborhood! Those people are passing out candy like it is Halloween, how funny. Mile 8, I see Santa Claus cheering me on, and the Easter Bunny. I also see Elvis running. I don't think I am hallucinating just yet, but maybe. Mile 11/12 we split from the half marathoners and it is all the sudden quiet and lonely. I turn a corner and get to run in the Sounds Stadium. I see myself on the big guitar screen. I try to snap a running selfie, but I discover later that it didn't turn out. I meet another runner who is also running his first marathon and also because of turning 40. Soon, we run alongside the half marathoners again. But wait! They are done, there they go, listen to those cheers. Ok, mile 15, I can do this. This isn't terrible. My mind is starting to tell me I am done, but I cannot listen. Mile 17 into a park. It is quieter, the paths are more narrow. I can do this, think "pretty park". But it isn't the leaves haven't changed much or they are already cleaned up. There are no pretty ducks in the water. Oh no! I have to pee again. I don't see any porta pottys. Wait, why does that sign say 20? I was just at 17. I can't be doing too bad, look at these people running past me in the opposite way. I just need to keep going. Hang on, "U-turn"!? So the people I just passed, thinking I was on a good pace were actually ahead of me and already did this loop! Why does that sign say 23. What is going on? Who messed up? My watch says mile 19 something. Okay, I have to walk more because when I run, I feel like I may pee my pants. Mile 20, I find a porta potty. I see a text from my husband pop up about being at mile 20 for awhile and asking if I am ok. No time to respond, just need to keep going. Finally, coming out of the park. Yay! I want to see city life again. OH NO! Does that sign have an arrow to finish straight ahead, but for the SECOND LOOP, to the right? I stop and ask. Yes, the park is two loops. Ugh, now the signs I saw make sense. Oh no. My mind is shut down. I cannot run. I want to cry. I want to be done. I will never sign up for another full. I will stick to half marathons and 5K's. Look that woman is walking. I can walk. Just for a bit. Oh wait, she was just walking the park! Now she is leaving. Oh no, I have to run! Caught back up to these two women I had passed and who had passed me at multiple points during this race. I am doing good. Yay! End of park is ahead. Mile 23. Oh wait, that is the pick-up bus to pick up runners coming into the park. I have to keep going. My feet hurt. My back hurts. My legs are starting to hurt. Small jog, I can do a small jog. I am fighting tears. I want to stop. I cannot stop. I am at Mile 24. I cannot come this far and not finish. But I cannot run anymore. I can barely jog. I come up by another runner and ask him if he has done this race before. He has. I ask him if I can walk the last 2 miles at this point or if they will pick me up. He tells me I have done great and I won't get picked up at this point if I walk. He also tells me the double park route was new and messed with his mind as well. A man cheering on comes up to me to tell me that there is one more hill around Mile 25, but after that, it is all downhill. He tells me I have this and to keep going but save my energy for the hill. I jog some more, I fight tears some more. There it is the hill at Mile 25. I power walk it up the best I can. Mile 26 sign, I start jogging. Finally, the gates into the finish line. I pick up my pace some, almost done. Wahoo! I did it! There is my husband and our kids. How wonderful! I am so glad they are here. I crossed the line in just shy of 6 hours. I am happy. I am sore! I am slightly discouraged with my time, but trying to lean on the fact that I did it and in my later goal time knowing that I had not been training toward the last 6 weeks like I should have.

*We figured out that my husband thought I was stuck at mile 20 for awhile because of the double loop in the park. I think it was hard for the tracking system to understand the pass throughs.

  

Difficult Conversations with Parents

     When we are younger, we tend to try to act older. We want to speed things up and be an adult (especially in the teen years). What we don't realize often enough is all the responsibility that comes with being an adult. If you were like me, your parents tried to shield you away from knowing the stress of all the responsibility that was on their plate. Paying the bills, working, taking care of their aging parents, and trying to find time to enjoy life with their children who were rapidly growing up.

    So here I am, almost 39 years into this world. Trying to balance the stress of life with work, bills, raising children that have had a few more medical concerns than my parents had to deal with. I have the daily heartaches of missing 2 of our children. Also in our short years on this earth, my husband and I have already buried our fathers.

   Now, to explain the difficult conversations with parents. My husband and I have had the difficult conversations with both of our fathers. If you are at this stage of your life, or maybe you have been there already, then you may have also had this conversation. You know, the one that asks if they are prepared financially for their future, whether it be retirement home, long-term care, or having their funeral. Do they have life insurance? Where are the papers and the contact information of those we need in the event of emergency or death? Andrew's dad was more prepared, and before his passing, added him as a Power of Attorney. This made the process smoother in the midst of grief. Honestly, it allowed us the time to grieve.

    My dad, my Papa, well, that is another story. I was definitely "Daddy's girl". I was blessed to work with him some growing up and while in college. He taught me a lot. But, he was a stubborn, proud man. I knew he was not in the best of health, but he wouldn't admit it and wouldn't stop working. He visited us a lot to see his grandkids. During those visits I would try to find out more about the stage of his health, his finances, and his plans. He would tell me more about his health (but still not everything) than he would his finances. And he certainly didn't want to discuss plans. In May 2019, we stopped by my parents' house to stay for a couple days on our way to Chicago. On the refrigerator was his last ER visit report. It listed ALL his diagnosis and the years of the initial diagnosis. My father had Malignant Prostate Cancer that was diagnosed 5 days after our wedding in 2011! That was just 1 of the many things we uncovered. Andrew and I confronted him and expressed our concern. He commented that the cancer was benign. When we told him the report said malignant and we know what that means, I think he wished he had not kept the paper hanging up with 2 "kids" around who could decipher the medical language. I will never forget that day, the look on his face, or the fear in my body when we tried to ask him what his plans were. I told him I knew things (house and finances) were in a mess and I asked him if he went first if he would want to leave Mom in that mess. He said no, but that he had it handled....proud and stubborn. I didn't push the issue anymore. Then in December, he came for Christmas. He expressed some concerns he had to me about other things, but said he had it handled and would take care of it in January. 

    When they were getting ready to drive back to Indiana, my stubborn Papa climbed into the the driver's seat while I was upstairs changing our daughter from a diaper blowout. My mom came up to see if I was going to tell them goodbye. I was frustrated and said I was, but couldn't believe he couldn't wait a few minutes for me to clean Audrey up. Mom just said he was ready to get on the road and reminded me how stubborn he was. I hugged him the best I could while he still sat in the driver's seat. My gut told me it was the last time I would see my father and continued to twisted painfully as I watched them drive away, knowing it was the last time, but not wanting to believe it.

    Late on January 11, 2020 I got the call that my Papa was being worked on by paramedics. Into the first few minutes into January 12, he was gone. 

    I spent the next year heavily focused on the unprepared mess he left. I didn't get or take the time to grieve when I should have.  And there is still parts of the mess being dealt with and parts I am walking away from.

    I have spoken to a few people in the last year who have said that their parents also do not have things lined up. Maybe because of our life experience, but Andrew and I have everything prepared, but the last touches to our will, which we are currently working on. 

    So please, if you know your parents don't have things lined up, see what you can do to help them (if they will let you). Or see if you can take out a policy yourself to help with the finances when the time comes so you are not spending your savings. And, if your parent/s are as stubborn as my Papa, please let them know that the mess left can destroy families, take time unnecessary away from their grandkids, and leave you feeling lost and hopeless without being able to grieve properly.

#Fear

     Fear is the word that best describes how I am living my life right now. Fear is how I shop for groceries. Fear is how I plan my schedule. Fear is how I am surviving to take care of my family. This fear came into my life over six years ago when I found out Riley's heart had stopped. When I realized how precious and fragile the life of a developing child was. I fought and lived with this fear with my next three pregnancies. I re-lived it when I found out Gabriel did not have a heartbeat. Now, during my fifth pregnancy, I still have that fear. This time, I am not following along in apps or schedules to follow this pregnancy day by day or week by week. I think I am around 17 weeks, maybe 18. I know when I am due and I know when I will probably be induced. In my effort to not let this part of the fear in my life win, I am just doing what I do best, staying busy.
     However, there is another fear I am living with that adds to the fear of loosing another child in the womb. This fear is with Jonah's allergies. This fear fuels anger and frustration. This fear cripples me to my core when I realize that Jonah's food allergies is probably what will kill him. This fear does cause me to give him more attention sometimes because I don't know how long I have him on this earth. Then I get angry. I am angry that I think that way. Angry that I cannot go anywhere with food and not have a panic attack on the inside. Often, I am screaming from within and smiling on the outside so no one will know how terrified I am. I don't want people to see that I would rather be "safe" in our home, then risking him being near food that could cause another anaphylactic reaction that could be fatal. After all, home is where he has been when he has had three of his reactions. Two of which were my fault, purely accidental, and I will not forgive myself for that. My mistake only made me realize that I cannot send him to camps or parties as long as he has this fatal allergies. Angry that he will and has missed out on things in life because he has these allergies. We tried to be a dairy-free home for awhile. It did not work. I go into silent panic attacks when Nehemiah gets up from the table with possible dairy on his hands and starts touching things that Jonah could touch. I am trying to instill the fear I have on Nehemiah so he will think and wash his hands after eating. Five years old is a difficult age to understand. Insert more fear as I imagine what it will be like when it is time for Jonah to start Kindergarten. Right now, he has a fabulous school and amazing teachers who help watch out for him. What happens when he is surrounded by other kids who do not think, because they are kids? What happens when he gets invited to parties full of pizza and cake? I am searching for more answers. There is a lot that doesn't make sense to me and I need to find an allergist who can support me and make some of my fear go away. I cannot cook. I do not like it. I wonder why God would do this to my child.
     Years ago I was the strongest I have ever been in my faith. Life and fear have pushed that strength away and I have allowed it to blind me from where I should be. I have told a few people that Riley brought me closer to God and Jonah's allergies have taken me further away. Now, I sit here, thankful he is still with me. Thankful for both of my boys at home. Thankful for this baby growing inside of me. But a new fear has built on my others like another tetris block falling into place. This fear is what makes me. This fear is what makes it hard to get out of bed and at the same time, the part that makes me get out of bed. We were suppose to begin fertility treatments in January as my eggs were crippled and aged. We had about 1% chance of getting pregnant. We were surprised we were able to and thankful we did not have to begin fertility treatments. But now, I wonder if its my eggs that caused Riley's heart condition, even though we were told it was a fluke mutation. I wonder if its my eggs that have caused all of Jonah's problems. And I wait for what I will hear this child has from my aging body. That is my new fear. This is my life as it is now.
     I know everyone has their own fears and their own truths. I know each person has their own inner battle they are dealing with. This is mine. I often think I will drop my social media account. I often wonder if I need to blog anymore. My wonderful husband reminds me that there have been a few people who have felt less alone by reading my words.
    I have not blogged in awhile, mostly because I stay so busy, but mostly because it is difficult admitting inner fears. But, here it is, here is my soul for the better part of this past year poured out in an online forum for others. Whatever your inner battle is, know that you are not alone. Please know that even if it is not close to mine, there is someone else out there hurting too. I told a sweet friend a week ago that my therapy sometimes is to write. To pour my soul out. This may be in my blog or in a letter to someone that I never give them, or even to myself that no one else reads. Find what works best for you.
 

Gabriel, 3 years

     It has now been 3 years since I found out that Gabriel's heart was not beating. I had lots of moments I had to hold it together on August 31. I started to work on my post then, but the day got away and was filled with lots of tasks due that day that were going wrong. I spent a lot of time in the car and when the boys were napping in the back seat, I cried. I cried until I didn't think I could cry anymore. I was wrong. I cried again that night. I cried again on Saturday. I cried on Sunday. And I have cried today. Gabriel was a different type of child loss. He was a child that I can only imagine what he looks like. I can only imagine what it would have been like to hold him. I carried him in my womb for such a short time. I will carry him in my heart forever.
     I still believe in the truth behind the medical science of a broken heart. I had an EKG done this year due to chest pains. They are stronger when I am anxious because of stress and missing my sons I lost. I lost. Yes, I know, I should not blame myself. As a women, that is difficult. It is our body that is designed to nourish and carry our children as they begin to form. It is a miraculous process. It is a true gift designed by God. But my body failed. And my body is still failing as my heart yearns for another baby, a baby Andrew and I form together. It is my body that is not allowing this. How can I not blame myself or feel like a failure? This is a constant battle in my mind. I think I stay busy so I can somewhat shut it off.
     If you find yourself feeling this way, please know that you are not alone. I can tell you not to blame yourself. But I would be a hypocrite. I am praying through this. For the strength to not have my heart ache so badly. For the reassuring words and peace that this is God's plan. And for the courage to move forward and accept whatever is to be.
     It is not easy. I do not think it is suppose to be. I use to think being pregnant made me feel more connected to Riley. Now, as I think back to that awful day when I was loosing Gabriel, I think pregnancy helped connect me to him as well.

5 Years

     I cannot believe 5 years have passed since we last held Riley. On some days it feels like much longer since we lived the hardest day of our lives. Some days it feels like yesterday.
I remember feeling such peace as the nurse searched for a heartbeat and couldn't find it. I remember nervously talking, knowing that transitioning me to a room for an ultrasound was not good. I remember feeling such peace when the doctor announced how sorry she was and that she couldn't find a heartbeat. I remember her leaving the room and Andrew suddenly sobbing while I rubbed his back with this peaceful calm about me. I remember calling our parents to tell them as we stopped by the post office like it was a normal day. I remember calling patients to move their appointments so we could go to the hospital and prepare for delivering our stillborn son. I remember driving to the hospital and learning about NILMDTS. I remember finally loosing some of my peace during the epidural in the middle of the night and hyperventilating into a paper bag. I remember the doctor that delivered me talking about how she almost didn't make it because of the car line to Starbucks blocking her path to the hospital. I remember the moment Riley was laid onto my chest. I remember the laminated picture of a leaf with a rain drop hanging on my hospital door. This signified a loss occurred in that room. I remember the women who came to baptize Riley and wanting Pastor Andy, his wife Amy and my friend Melissa in the room.
     Some memories I have are angry. Some are happy. Many are sad. A few are fading. I have to fight to remember those. They may not be anything important, but I don't ever want to forget the day I said goodbye to my son before I got to say hello. Technically his heart stopped the day before I delivered him. So he died before he was born…that is stillborn. He died 1/31/13 and was born 2/1/13. If he was buried his headstone would read that way. But we chose to have him cremated and stay home with us. One day, he will be buried with us (whoever goes last).
     The first few years it was hard to go on vacation and leave him in our home. But I have to remember that it is just the ashes from his body. His soul is in Heaven.
     We recently began reading and studying the book, "The Power of a Praying Parent" in our LifeGroup. The first chapters made me mad. I prayed for Riley, others prayed for Riley. But he wasn't protected. He died. Then I remembered, he WAS protected. He IS protected. He served his purpose for his short life on Earth in my womb. He is not suffering. He doesn't have to deal with temptation and sin. He is with Our Father. Why would I want him here?! How selfish of me! Makes me sad that I want Nehemiah and Jonah here with me…praying for our children's souls and trying to raise them in the way they should be raised is a heavy burden. Maybe not burden, but it is a huge responsibility!
     We continue to try to teach Nehemiah and Jonah about their brothers in Heaven. I recently purchased the book "Someone Came Before You". How perfect! We talked about going away this weekend, but decided that we will probably just stay home. I have a dairy free cake mix and icing to use so Jonah can partake in the celebration of Riley as well. We will probably look at photos of Riley and watch his memorial service on DVD.
     I continue to pray for how God wants to use me and our story of Riley. I get frustrated with the lack of an answer at this point. And other times he reminds me that he is using me as he shares our story with someone who needs to hear it at the time he makes sure they do!
     While looking at photos the other week, Nehemiah said, "Thank you for holding Riley Mommy!" Oh sweet boy! If only you knew that I would hold you all for as long as God lets me! I would hold you all when you are twice my size if I still can and it is God's plan.
     5 years have passed. I still miss you! I still long to hold you again! I am still thankful for the short time I had with you! I am still thankful that God chose you to be our son. It isn't easier necessarily, but I am learning how to live without you on Earth. Your brothers have helped me heal as they give me things to focus my energy on. Someone very wise told me that the only thing that would pull me out of the darkness I let myself get into was to get pregnant again. For me, that is what worked. I was blessed to be pregnant with Nehemiah and that helped me pull the cotton out of my ears and listen to what God was telling me again.
     If you have experienced a loss, please do not get to the dark place I was. Please ask for help before then! If your partner is getting there, have an intervention! Get their friends to help them! It is not the place to be and it is not where our children or Our Father want us to be!
     Happy Birthday / Angelversary Riley! You are one of our greatest achievements and blessings! You are one of our greatest gifts! Your breaths may be done, but ours are still here and we will speak of you every chance we get! Your Earthly life is done, but ours is not and you are 100% a part of our story! We love you son! Thank you for the time we had together!

Dear Gabriel

Dear Gabriel,

I knew your name before I knew of you! I had a dream in which a woman I had never seen before visited me and told me that I would be having a boy and I should name him Gabriel. The next day, I took a test that was a very faint positive…in fact, I took 2 tests just to be sure my eyes were not playing tricks on me.

It was on that day I fell in love with you. It was on that day that I also knew that my time with you would be short. I had an inkling that you would pass before me. I wanted to believe it was the fear I will always fight in pregnancy. A week before you passed, my feeling became stronger and my heart was broken. I knew I would not have the time with you I prayed for on Earth. I was scared to love you more, and yet, as each day passed, I did. I still do!

The week you died is one that I will never forget, and yet one that is such a blur. I started bleeding heavy late on a Monday night. I waited for a call from the emergency on call doctor. Because I was not in much pain, and because you were so young, there was nothing that could be done. I could only go to the doctor's office every other day for blood draws. Those blood draw readings would rip my heart open more as I listened to how quickly I was loosing you.

I cried every time I used the bathroom. You deserved more than to be flushed down the toilet. I looked for you in clots of tissue. I know you were there, and I will always regret not being able to do something more.

I spent some time angry at God, as you know. Not just because you died, but because I didn't get much time to get to know you. I don't know what it is like to feel you move. I don't know what it is like to hold you in my arms. I don't know what it is like to kiss your sweet face. I had that time with Riley.

I feel as if so much more was taken from me when you died. I feel as though I am more lost for not knowing you, than knowing you and loosing you.

You will always be our third son. You will always be my third pregnancy. You will always be my gift from God. I will always love you.

I believe it was an angel that God sent in my dream to prepare me for you. I know God knew that I would need to name you to feel as though we had more of a connection than just 7 brief weeks.

I know you and Riley are watching us now. For that I am grateful and blessed! I do not know if your sibling I am carrying now will come home to live with us or go Home to live with you. You will be an amazing older brother either way!

I look forward to the day I come Home to meet you.

Until then my sweet son, I will do my best to make you proud and follow God's plan for my life on Earth.

Love,

Momma

Cautiously Optimistic

Yes, you could say I am cautiously optimistic.  You could also say that I am excited, nervous, protective, worried, emotional, and 4 weeks pregnant!

After Gabriel I heard many people tell me that I should have waited 12 weeks to share. But why? I mentioned in my blog announcement about Gabriel that we would share no matter what happened. Keeping my child's death a secret was not an option for me then. And, should God take this child home before I meet he or she, it won't change the option now.

Why shouldn't I be excited? The minute a test finally displays a positive pregnancy and a doctor confirms it, I have another child! I am the mother of 4 children!  Why shouldn't I be nervous? Gabriel went to Heaven after only 7 short weeks. Riley went to Heaven after 37 short weeks. My excitement could easily turn to grief. But, in my experience, waiting 12 weeks until a pregnancy is deemed "viable" or more "safe" does not deem it more viable or safe.

So rather than hide in my pregnancy secret for another 8 weeks, I will share now. There is no shame in sharing early. There is no shame in sharing late. There was a time where I thought, "I am not announcing my next pregnancy until I deliver." But as scared as I am, God is with me and letting my excitement outweigh my fear. And, why shouldn't I share this child's life now rather than have to announce the death before the life should that time come? If this child were to pass, I would grieve just as much sharing as not sharing. With the losses in our past, it would be normal for us to keep it a secret. However, knowing all the love and support we have had and continue to receive, we do not want to.

My husband is also cautiously optimistic. He wanted to wait until my blood results from Friday, compared to Wednesday, showed a viable pregnancy. I did not want to wait and as I mentioned earlier, I don't want an announcement Monday to read that I am pregnant but losing another one.

I can honestly say that I do not know what the nurse will call to tell me Monday. But I do know that no matter what, I am grateful for this life inside of me and the opportunity to have 4 children.

I do know that another loss could take me down again. But whenever I have been down, I have had enough prayers and support that help lift me up again. For that I am thankful and blessed!