Saturday, April 27, 2013
The kids are now in 3rd and 4th grade and continue to grow like weeds.
I myself am proud to say that I have signed my first book contract for a fantasy romance that will be published by The Wild Rose Press later on this year.
I can't wait to see the changes the next 5 years bring.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
What can I say? I found myself in a pensive type of mood. The baby I lost would have been celebrating a birthday right about now. Number three to be exact. Which begs the question, what would we have done? My guess is something involving either a Transformer or a Princess theme. There would have been cake and ice cream, presents, and laughter. As it stands, I did do all that today! Today was my little sisters' birthday. She turned three. Yes, three. (We will not discuss the age difference!)
In one of the those cosmic twist of fate, I indeed had the birthday party I should of had. A lovely one, held at the pool in the company of her family and friends. A birthday for her, just as it should have been.
I don't think about the lost baby as much any more, only about every day. As such I haven't cried and doubt I will anytime soon. Don't get me wrong, I choke up when I think of it, but then the moment quickly passes. Which, when I think of it makes me feel callous and heartless, until I realize that this how God designed the human mind. We love, we lose, we grieve, we heal, we move on. Because as the world continues to turn, one day will always fade into the next, and into the next, and into the next. Much like our memories.
I am so glad for the opportunity that this blog has presented me. So many of the memories, althought not all of them, that I thought I would remember forever with such idealic clarity, huh, well, they're just about as clear as mud. Time, what a funny thing.
The first several days are very clear. I guess it's like when you're trying to memorize a speech, you get the first paragraph down pat. When you move on to the second, you begin with the first and continue on. Same with the third, until that first paragraph is so firmly fixed in your mind, it's not coming out. That's pretty much what I'm getting at.
I cannot recall the physical pain I felt when I learned my third child just weeks into it's embryonic life and why would I? That was enough of a soul crusher to last me my entire life, thank you very much, no repeats are necessary. And while I can probably script some of the conversations word for word, I don't know why I would. At the end of the day my life had been changed forever. Same goes for the day when I was told my pregnancy wasn't exactly normal. That had to have been the understatement of the century.
I cannot recall the weeks between those blood draws when we were playing the waiting game. Waiting to hear the phone ring, waiting to hear if the levels were up or down. But now, as I'm thinking about it, my stomach is churning with anxiety. And I'm not sure how I managed to keep from pulling my hair out.
There's the first visit to the oncologist office. There's nothing much to say on that, except looking back, I went in cool and confident knowing I had done as much research as I could. I was ready to "talk shop" and resolve the issue and knowing without a doubt that God was going to take care of me. A feeling a had though the entire process and doubted only for the merest of seconds before my common sense kicked back in.
The various trips in for medicine. There was only a handful, a lone shot here and there, a single IV treatment.
The call, between the doctor and myself, when it was determined I would need a hysterectomy to beat the cancer. Not as dramatic as you would think. This goes back to being prepared, to being realistic, and being confident in God.
Then there's the hemmoraging. Pretty sure this mememories going to be there awhile, as will the day of the surgery. It was around four that morning when they were wheeling me into Prep when all of my commonsense fled. I don't really remember what I was thinking or feeling clearly. In fact it's a total blur. I know I was crying and couldn't stop until the nurses gave me somethig for it. Looking back, I guess what I was feeling was a sort of grief for my uterus. Laugh if you like, but it's true. So much of that organ comprised what it was that made me.... I could say me, a person would wanted to be a mother again, or I could say a woman. I know how silly that sounds, but in a way it's true.
God never blessed me with ample front clevage, the rear, well, it would have been nice if both sides evened out. So I really connected my feminity with my uterus. I may resemble a prepubesent teen, but honey, I could pop out beautiful babies. Hence, the totally unfounded and crazy grief I was feeling. I knew and still know that any female can be a mother, but it takes someone special to be a mom and that just because that part of me was gone didn't mean it stopped the loving feelings of heart. It only resulted in temporary brain loss!
The physical pain of the surgery is barley a blip on my Memory Lane radar, the scar, although noticeable to me, is pretty well faded.
The call I received letting me know my levels had bottomed out, was one of the greatest moments of my life and the highlight of the whole ordeal is in need of a trophy. And coming in second place, the last visit to my doctors office. More than a blip because he'd changed offices and it was a chore to find.
Hmmm, guess my memories clearer than I thought. Thanks Memory Lane. Point is, time allows us to put our memories in perspective. The shock, the hurt,and the grief eventually fades as does the happy, the exuberance, and the thrill. I'd compare our brain to the refresh button. There's only so much data it can handle before it has to clear out and start over. Just think how sad our lives would be if we continued to wallow in our hurt like pigs in mud.
We're human. God gave us life. What we do it, well, that's up to us.
Personally I chose to be happy. There is nothing that is going to bring my baby back. No amount of tears, or screaming will change that. I accept it and move on, remembering that God gave me two wonderful children who daily irritate the living snot out of me and make me glad I'm their mom. A husband who is my rock. Parents I adore, a nephew who is cutest thing, and sisters. Both of whom I love and would die to save.
And at the end of the day, that's what makes living my life worth it.
Friday, March 19, 2010
It's official, I've been discharged. Released from the care of my oncologist and free to live the life of a survivor.
Boy what a difference two years makes. That's 730 days or 17,120 hours- and if my math is good 1,027,200 minutes. Either way you look at it, time sure has flown by and all those memories that I thought would live in my mind forever are turning out to be quiet less memorable than I thought they would be.
I can no longer quote all the differing levels of Hcg that my body has seen. The only number that really matters has been a constant since June 2008 and that is less than 2. My scar is no longer the raise pink line that it once was, having fading down to something less noticeable, like so many other memories. Not that I don't see it on a regular basis, I still do, everyday. It's impossible to miss.
One thing that won't be impossible to miss will be the blood draws. No skin off my back where that's concerned and I mean that in the kindest way possible. If not for the ladies drawing my blood, or the people running the tests in the lab, the end to my story would have been a lot different. Thank God for the strides made in the medical field.
I will also miss, fondly, my doctor at UAB. He knows who he is and if he ever comes across this lowly blog, I want him to know what a terrific doctor he is and how highly I think of him.
He was honest with me from the start, entirely capable, and I never doubted his expertise for a second. I can think of no higher praise for a man in the occupation of oncology. I pray that he is blessed everyday with knowledge, wisdom, a steady hand, and a warm heart as he continues in his endeavors.
It's with a smile that I hope to never see you again. As the risk of recurrence is rather low, I don't think we'll ever run into each other again. But it's a small world, you never know.
And for the lost baby, the one that will never be forgotten, no matter how much time passes. Whether it be 50 years - 18,18,250 days- 449,000 hours, 26,940,000- minutes or 1,616,400,000 seconds (don't check my math) the memory of the baby I never got to name, never got to hold, kiss or cuddle will live on and I know that without a doubt, I will always continue to shed a tear when I think of the person who never got a chance to be
Fisher Clay Hayes or Graicee Laine Hayes.
Two years later, it is a mix of bittersweet memories that continue to live on. Triumph and tragedy.
Like in the past, future posts will be few and far between. I will continue to keep the lines of communication open for any future woman traveling down the path of a molar pregnancy journey. I'm just an email away.
Angela Hayes, gtdwarrior
Thursday, January 8, 2009
The morning began like any other. Terry had worked a night shift before and so that he could watch the kids and still get some sleep later that day, I had an early prenatal appointment at one of the branch offices close to home.
This was my third and final pregnancy and already I knew it was different that my previous two. I wasn't having much morning sickness and what I did have seemed more like um, sinus drainage issues. Nothing like the 24 hour stuff that ruled my life for 3 weeks that I was expecting. Ignoring the little twinges of "something wasn't right", I was happy that the toilet wasn't my best friend this go round. But those twinges wouldn't be ignored for long, as my second appointment turned out to be what I least expected.
As soon as the doctor put the Doppler on my stomach to listen for the heart beat, I knew something was wrong. And for what seemed like the next 5 minutes, he search for a heartbeat. None. He tried to comfort me with the fact that the baby was probably just behind my pubic bone, hiding, but I think we both knew it was a lie.
It would be. The first ultrasound put the baby at a day or two short of eight weeks. Determining that the baby had died two days or so after the first ultrasound where I had seen and heard the heart beat myself. So for the last three to four weeks, my baby had been dead and I didn't know it. Somehow that seems so wrong.
The next day, January 9 would begin the first of countless blood draws to come. And in accordance with my doctors advice, I chose not to have a D and C done right away. It would be two weeks later before we decided on the D and C. My body wasn't miscarrying on its own and I count that as a blessing. During that same visit, because of my unusual high hcG, that I believe to have been in the 300,000 range, I was sent for another ultrasound to confirm fetal demise. The thoughts that ran through my head were numerous, as were the prayers. Prayers for God's Will to be done.
I won't and can't blame my doctor for my baby being in my body for close to six weeks after its death, because he can't predict the future. Could a D and C done earlier have prevented the cancer? Maybe, maybe not, we'll never know.
Twenty days to the day I learned of my miscarriage and asked the age old question, "Why?", I received a D and C. A week later, I had an answer. An answer that would turn my life upside down.
Fetal demise was due to Partial Molar Pregnancy.
As I sit here, going over what happened a year ago, many emotions run through me. Sadness and heart break for the baby I'll never know on earth. Triumph and elation for fighting a disease that comes straight from the pits of Hell and winning. Anger at the Devil for turning something so pure and innocent into something that I feared. Thankfulness, for God and His Son Jesus, for their undying love and unseen hands that carry us through life. Emotions that are all wrapped into one ball and can't be unraveled, just like the events that have led me to this day.
Today is January 8,2009 and I am a daughter, sister, wife, mother, miscarriage and cancer survivor rolled into one. I am a fighter.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
From time to time when seeing a new baby, Emilee still asks me why everyone has babies and we don't :( I always tell her that mommy can't have any more because her baby stuff was sick. But that maybe we can adopt one, or that she can have some when she gets married. But in a way giving her this answer feels like I'm lying to her, what if when it's time for her to make a family she can't! I know I'll tell her adoption is an option along with all the IVF choices they have now. How can I keep from warping her little brain into thinking babies are an option, when they might not be?
Time will tell, sorry to ramble on, guess this is like therapy for me.
Everything's going good. Talk to you again in March after my six month check up.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
My three month check up was perfect. I've been cleared for the next 6 months. No blood work, no doctors, nothing. Wahoo! I can't tell you all how excited I am. When my 6 months are up, I'll only see the doctor and that dreaded needle 2 more times, for yearly check ups. This whole thing will be a thing of the past, a past I continue to share a love- hate relationship with and probably always will.
The next few posts will be few and very far in between as my battle comes to an end. And with the chance for a new beginning. I'm thinking of starting another blog. I'll let you know if that happens. In the meantime, keep all the women who are daily battling molar pregnancy in your thoughts and prayers as well as their doctors and families.
Friday, August 22, 2008
My oldest, Hunter, started kindergarten 2 weeks ago and after a pattern of good, bad, good, bad, good, he's finally settled on good. He's got the cutest "girlfriend" and comes home demonstrating exercise moves he's learned in P.E. He's really into the whole school thing as before bed the other he told me he was going to get up 4 in the morning to get ready. Imagine my surprise when I say him walk into my room a little after 4:15 and declared he was ready to get in the shower. Oh, no, I told him to get his hinnie back to bed. Two hours later, when my alarm went off, he was ready to go then as well. I am not looking for to see what Saturday morning brings, as I would like to sleep in !!!! Really, anything past 7 o'clock would do it for me. But I'm thinking, I'll be hearing the little pitter patter around 6:30 at the latest if I'm lucky.
His sister, Emilee is at a loss and I'm finding it difficult to entertain while he's gone. I think she's given up on me, as she's decided a spider building a web on the outside of the living room window makes for better conversation. My imaginative little girl, even dressed in her party dress, mismatching shoes, and put on a song and dance routine for the uncaring arachnid.
As for me, I celebrated my 26Th year in low key style and noticed a few more gray hairs. I believe I'll be seeing what Clairol has to offer in a nice brown, or maybe even a classy red, I haven't made my mind up yet. Maybe I will by my next post. I'm expecting less than two again. Talk to everyone later.