Just Brave Enough

Today, I went to the doctor, which is unfortunately not an uncommon occurrence for me (or my son, for that matter). I had yet another follow-up with my neurosurgeon, who had always managed to crush all of my hopes and dreams with more bad news, more prescriptions, and more appointments. Today, I walked in the office, sat in the lobby, and patiently waited for my name to be called. This week, it’s been a year since my ICU stay. I’ve “successfully” reached 365 self-injected blood thinners to the stomach, consecutive countless pills taken morning and before bed, and days full of headaches with no end in sight. I’m officially one year post-stroke and I’ve carried a hematoma and several blood clots with me every step of the way. Today, my name was called and I walked back into the same room that I’ve entered what feels like a million times before. The same exam room where I’ve viewed hopeless brain scans showing worse results or no improvement from the one before. Even with memory loss,...

The NICU and the ICU may have been the most painful points of our lives, but once you leave, that doesn't mean it's over. Even still, we are going through the most difficult time we've ever had. Don't get me wrong, we are so incredibly thankful to have our son. I am so grateful to be able to hold him in my arms every single day and get those sloppy baby kisses. Given our journey, we are fortunate to have him here at all. Some days, though, that joy doesn't totally numb the pain. Is it selfish? Probably. But it's only human to hurt. Before I was able to get pregnant, seeing a woman with a baby bump would make me sad. It would remind me of what I was incapable of, but wanted so badly. Now, it conjures memories of what I once had and loved, but I failed at. It's a reminder of what I will never have again. I'm not sure which has been more painful. Is it worse to have something and have it taken away, or to have never experienced something at all? Obviously...

After being admitted to the ICU, I was a patient for another eight days. My memory is a bit foggy, but I do remember being woken up every hour or so for neurological tests (squeezing the nurse's fingers, putting my arms out in front of me, smiling, pushing my feet, and sticking my tongue out). I didn't mind being woken up because if I had more control over it, I would have never slept. I just wanted to get up and see my baby; however, I honestly could barely stay awake. I tended to fall asleep mid-conversation without realizing. I was very medicated, partly due to my anxiety over sleeping because my original headache happened at night. It also hurt to have my eyes open because of my newfound sensitivity to light, so I would just pass out randomly without warning. Because of the vulnerability to brightness (and the fluorescent lighting throughout the hospital), I was always wearing sunglasses which made it hard to tell that I wasn't actually awake during interactions with pe...

My hospital stay ended up being eight days - two before having the baby and the six after. I didn't necessarily want to go home and leave my baby, but I did miss my bed. I wasn't really able to eat much because, even though I was on a regular diet, I had to keep my blood pressure under control. If my levels went too high, I wasn't able to see the baby because it put too much stress on my body.  Though I didn't have any symptoms throughout my pregnancy, I was diagnosed with very severe preeclampsia. The medical definition is high blood pressure, often with high protein levels and fluid retention. If it’s not treated, the organs will begin to fail and both the mother and baby are put in danger. Because my case got so severe, so quickly, Flynn had to be delivered as soon as possible. There are situations where the blood pressure can be kept down with medication and the baby can be brought to term, but mine was not one of them. I learned that when you deliver a bab...