DESIRE vs WANT

As most friends and family know, my husband and I have decided to adopt. We prayed about it a lot and felt like it was time to start the process. My husband keeps reminding me not to get my hopes up, but against all efforts, I tend to anyway! We have our highs and lows and seem to be having more roadblocks than open highways. My heart has been playing tug-of-war with the confidence that God led us to start this journey and the devil is trying to stop us, or that we put our "wants" above God's will. 

I have really been struggling with my faith. I have even missed church a lot here lately... I would always be hurting or didn't feel good but I think on a deeper level I would have sucked it up and went regardless, had my faith not been so little and had not gotten discouraged.... I know that is wrong and "un"-Christian-like but I didn't realize how much I desired to have another child. I am VERY happy with Dyson and the little family I have but God is not allowing me to let this desire fade for a reason. I have always felt VERY strongly about adoption, even before I finished high school so I know that there is a child out there for us to love as our own. 

This past week,week and a half, Dyson has been very sick with pneumonia and high fever. I went six days with a total of maybe 8 hours of sleep. With me having POTS, it is not healthy for me to go without rest. It causes my body to work even harder than the "normal" and can cause very dangerous (passing out resulting in injury) symptoms. I was blessed to be able to handle it until we went and stayed with Austin's parents for the holiday weekend. I was finally able to take care of myself and get my body readjusted while Dyson's Nana and Pops kept him busy. All the time I spent laying around allowed me to contemplate how blessed I truly am despite my illness. For two years I have longed for the ability to care for my son in a typical "mom" fashion and for the first time, I had done exactly that! As exhausted and weak as my body felt, my mind was awakened with a new hope for a promising future. I have come a LONG way since first getting sick and since there is no cure, I have had a less-than-positive outlook on what type of mother and wife I would be.

I have always aggravated my husband by doing things I shouldn't and basically not being as cautious as he would like. Although I understood his concern, I couldn't/cant just live in a bubble and watch my life pass me by. God and I have had MANY heart-to-heart talks and I have had my share of being angry and heartbroken over the way He was deciding to write my story. I realize that He is just using all of this to help me realize His purpose for my life. God has a way of ruining your plans, and if we allow it, the change in course can consume our attitude. Instead of focusing on the problem, learn to focus on the purpose. God will bless us in the midst of our struggles and in return we should use it to glorify His name. Nursing my son back to health gave me a newfound confidence in my mothering ability. Although I take care of him a lot, it is usually interrupted with daycare and I am able to rest my body. With that being said, many people feel that we should not adopt due to my illness. I have never believed them until recently when I injured my back after passing out... I wondered if my dream of adopting was slipping away along with my health. Blessedly (I don't believe in luck, I believe in purpose), the pain goes away and the symptoms take a break! Instead of giving into my physical "wants" I push through and ultimately it boost my spiritual "needs".

Last night I tossed and turned, wondering why God has placed such a burning desire for another child in my heart. I stopped convincing myself this was God's plan and decided to REALLY seek Him. I know that it is His plan for us to adopt, we have earnestly prayed about that, BUT one thing I haven't been praying about is WHEN we should. Fundraising has had one obstacle after another and I let it discourage me. I reached out to God and there I found His outstretched hand.. See, He hasn't gone anywhere, despite being able feel His comfort. I had, unknowingly, pulled away from His grasp while concentrating on the goal, instead of allowing Him to bless me in each step of the destination. I asked God to give me a peace about adoption and not only to pay more attention in the day-to-day, but to also pay more attention in the moment-to-moment. 

I prayed that I would have discernment and patience along the journey and to not get so easily discouraged when we face an obstacle. I prayed for peace and for God to show Himself to me along the adoption journey. 

I drifted off to sleep and had one of the most realistic dreams I have ever experienced. The details of the dream have stuck with me all day and feels like a warm hug with each thought. We finally had our missing piece. A child was given to us after word of mouth spread that we were adopting. There was a mother who was struggling and felt that her baby could be better taken care of by us. She brought him to us and dropped him off without a word, only a single tear that fell from her face. The baby was very tiny and had gastrointestinal issues from birth. He required very close care but the instant connection we felt with him was as if I had carried him for nine months. Dyson immediately started loving on his new brother and I felt complete. As introductions were made to family and friends, there were some reactions that were unfortunately expected, but that didn't discourage my happiness in the least. 

I felt God was showing me that, like He says, He will give us the desires of our heart. I realized that yes, it may be difficult and have a lot of unexpected outcomes, but the joy we will feel when our family is complete is greater than any struggle or negative feelings could ever be. After all is said and done we will appreciate the outcome more, regardless of when it happens, if we trust in God's ability to carry us through it. 

Daily struggles= daily lesson

I have been struggling recently with the emotional and mental side of sickness. So many times people we forget to take care of our minds when we are sick and it becomes weak as well. All these scenarios run through your head about the dreams you have had your whole life and you start wondering how you will be able to accomplish each one. My advice, take one day at a time. The worst thing you can do is get inside your own mind. I have not been able to go to work since August of 2012 and have basically been home bound since then unless I have a good day and someone comes over or takes me somewhere. When I am here for days at a time, I end up letting myself think about the "what could have been" and the "what will never happen again".. The devil will sneak his way in so quietly that before I realize it I am angry at my circumstance. When I get angry at my circumstance (having a severe chronic illness) the devil starts grinning from ear to ear because he is slowly defeating me without me even realizing it. I have had to fight daily to stay on the "positive" side of Invisible illness, as crazy as that sounds, because when I don't, the devil steals my joy. It took me a long time to realize that, although I may NEVER know why, God didn't accidentally cause my body to just start misfiring... He didn't just take his hand off of me in 2012 and say "oh crap, I made a mistake"... My God is bigger than that. He obviously has a purpose for giving me this dreadful illness and I have to make a conscious effort to try to make sure I search for what that is. Before I became sick I was the typical southern girl. I was independent, stubborn as a mule, oblivious to how deeply I should love others and many more bullheaded, stuck-in-her-ways kind of gal.... Now, I have never loved my husband and son more. I appreciate them on a level I never thought possible.
When the ability to care for your loved ones gets taken away from you and you watch your husband work night and day to pay bills and you watch someone else have to care for your child, your heart turns to mush and every pain, adrenaline surge, syncopal episode, severe headache, muscle fatigue, tremors, seizure, and every other problem that you have that has kept you from caring for them seems like it is a race and you are just trying to beat it to the finish line. But, all the racing does is cause more trouble and more pain and therefore more setbacks. So the cycle continues. Little Miss Independent just became Little Miss Dependent and you have to have help with daily tasks, even as simple as walking. Being stubborn as mule kicks in at about this point because, of course, who wants anyone to be telling them what to do 24 hours a day, 7 days a week? Every time you wake up, you are told not to overdo it, not to get out of bed, not to stand up without assistance, not to eat that, make sure you drink plenty of water, and the list goes on... Just like an old mule you kick back out of pure frustration and just plain "I don't want to" and in your head you can just visualize yourself crossing your arms, pouting your lips, and plopping down on the floor in an Indian style position as if you were a toddler. Your family and extended family gets beyond fed up with you trying to gain just an ounce of independence back and many arguments play out over the year. You know in your heart that they are just wanting the best for you and you also know they are struggling too.. Their lives have been changed due to this illness as well. You put yourself in their shoes daily, although most of them think you don't due to them thinking you are selfish when you want to do something to get out of the house because it can be a hassle for everyone involved. Putting yourself in their shoes not only happens daily, but it is heart wrenching. You see how each life has been effected all due to you and your illness. Schedules have to be rearranged, nerves are on edge, whole worlds turned upside down just because of one stupid diagnosis. So, have you walked a mile in their shoes? No. Have you got enough guilt to fill those shoes plus the shoes in the warehouses they came from? Yes. You finally realize one day that it is okay to want to get out of the house after being inside for two weeks. It is ok to have to ask for help when you need it. When it becomes "not" okay is when you get complacent and ask for help when you can do it yourself. You will end up hurting yourself and any relationship (family, friend) because that is just being lazy and you may as well just give up. You haven't walked a mile in the shoes of anyone else, but people often forget they have never walked a mile in your shoes either.
When someone is diagnosed with an invisible illness, people automatically start assuming things about you. You will get approached by people who have an imaginary PhD from WebMD who knows all there is to know about your illness and tells you that all you need is to rest, drink water, and lots of salt and you will be fine. You will spend three hours getting dressed when it used to take you twenty minutes and go out in public and be told by someone you haven't seen or heard from in months "I am so glad you are doing better"... They see you upright and breathing and automatically assume you are healed. You lose friends you have had for years because you no longer can drive to get to them. The "we miss you" texts stop coming and the home visits never really even began. You are 26 and are living like an 82 year old shut in who has already lived out the prime of her life. Only thing is, you haven't. You have a son who you still want to run around in the yard with and go to ball games with and go camping with. You have been married for almost six years and you want to still date your husband and clean house and cook meals for him.
Slowly the devil puts into your mind that these things are being torn from your grasp.
BUT I can praise my God because He has shown me that regardless what the devil tries to show me, God is going to bless me far greater than I could imagine. Have I had to learn to be less stubborn and less independent? Yes. But, I also have used those qualities to find ways to be involved in my husband and son's life. Even one good day spent with my family is worth all the bad days combined.
I have learned that God DOES give us way more than we can handle. He doesn't want us to handle it. He wants to handle it. He just wants us to realize it so that we can surrender it all to him. Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome is the most annoying, painful, scariest, but beautiful blessing I have yet to receive.

What is happiness? Let's discuss...

I know I have already discussed how I was angry for so long, but I feel like I need to elaborate a little more. I see so many people who say they are so happy and blessed one minute on the social media sights and then within an hour they are posting that they hate their life and everyone in it, or that they can't wait until the week is over and the list goes on... To me, if your happiness is so shallow that it can be changed within an hour then you are not truly happy. If one person can make you so unhappy that you are wishing your life away from day to day or week to week, then maybe we need to get to the bottom of what true happiness is.  I was angry for WAY to long and it just stole too many important things from me! I missed out on age 6 months- to one year of my sons life and when I see pictures of him I don't even recognize him in that time frame. I was so angry and depressed I took all my frustration out on my husband and family and I looked for every excuse to be defensive when someone didn't "understand" my illness... OF COURSE they aren't going to understand it!!!! We shouldn't want them to understand it!!!! Before we (as patients) were labeled with it ourselves, we didn't understand it! As a matter of fact, I STILL don't understand it!!! If I did, I wouldn't constantly be overdoing it, I would drink my water like I am supposed to, eat my salt, figure out a way to go gluten free regardless that I live in a tiny town without a whole foods store and the financial ability to afford it, I would push through and at least do 5 minutes of low impact exercise daily because as much as we say we can't handle it we KNOW we are supposed to do and that it is vital to recondition our bodies, and lastly, if we understood POTS we would have already found a cure. I spent so much wasted time looking for someone else to get angry at because so many friends have left me and because I lost my job and my husband is taking on SO much more than I could never thank him enough for, BUT I finally had to realize that I am not just put on this earth to lead a bitter life. Every morning I woke up in pain or every time I passed out and ended up in the ER with a possible head injury (most recent ER visit for falling off a porch head first and thinking I broke my neck- I was fine though- only damage to my ear!) was nothing compared to how miserable I was feeling emotionally and spiritually. I finally realized that I would rather hurt and pass out everyday than to be so miserable and bitter towards an illness that I am going to have to battle the rest of my life. So, I decided that God is bigger than I am and instead of being mad at Him for letting this happen, I decided to step back and see what else He was or could be allowing to happen. I do not know my purpose for having this, but so far I do know that by having POTS, my once completely independent, "I can do anything on my own" self has finally been knocked on her back and has had a very large helping of humble pie. I now know that I have seen a side of my husband that has made me love him on a level that only God can allow. He not only takes care of our town as chief of police day and night, but he takes care of me and our son without one complaint. I now know that God has allowed my family to grow closer through my illness and if it was for only these three things I will forever be grateful. I will have my days were I get down and question "why" but that is okay. God wants us to seek Him. It is in our darkest hours that He shines the brightest. 

 My husband isn't perfect by no means and I have had my days (and weeks!) where I want to ring his neck because I am in a mood... He is, like most men, a "fixer" and thinks practically about every situation and of course POTS is not cut and dry. We can't always feel better with each suggestion that is made so when something doesn't work or if I don't listen to what he says and he gets frustrated it can get very tense but I have to remind myself (sometimes over and over until it sets in) that he is only so frustrated because he is tired of seeing me in pain and not being able to "fix" it. Also, as bad as I hate it, he calls me on my crap! When I know better than to go and spend the day with my friend in town, even if it is just doing something simple, and I pass out or spend the next few days on the couch, he has no sympathy. When I am feeling bad and he tells me not to get up, but I do anyway and I pass out, he says he doesn't want to hear it when I wake up moaning from bumps and bruises on the way down... It is tough love and I know that may sound like he is mean, but he really isn't... If I am actually hurt, he takes care of it but he makes me realize that it all could have been prevented and that I cause myself more harm even though I want a halfway normal life. He then sits and listens while I sometimes cry with crazy, simple things like I can't drive and go buy a taco that I have been craving like I would have been able to do before I got sick (told ya!). He just nods his head and says he understands. We are not perfect and we are completely flawed and have no idea how to go about handling life with a none curable illness. But, what we do know is that life is worth fighting for and our son will know that his mother fights to have an active part in his daily routine and he will grow up learning from his parents to look at the positive side of a bad situation because regardless of what life throws at you (sickness, poverty, job loss, identity crisis, loss of friends or loved ones, etc) he will have to know that there is more to it than just sorrow and depression. I want him to remember his childhood as happy, regardless of what was going on around him. Back to my quest to figure out what exactly is happiness; one thing I do know, happiness I not skin deep. It cannot be changed in a matter of a second just because someone else did something you decided you didn't like. Happiness is a decision that we wake up with each morning and go to sleep with each night. For me, God brings me joy that nobody can take away from me, not even myself. When I put things into God's hands and I actually gave it to Him and not just "saying" it like I had done so many times before, I slowly found myself having less anxiety, less depression, and I could look in the mirror and actually smile regardless of the day I was facing. I was no longer scared to face the rest of my life and that, my friend, made me happy. 

Lessons Learned...

This month is the one year anniversary of me finally receiving a diagnosis. January 2012 my husband kissed me goodbye as he stayed at home with my son and I was loaded into the car. My mama and Deddy drove me all the way from small-town, Mississippi to Cleveland, Ohio. I spent five days hooked up to an EEG machine in the hospital and saw 12 doctors, including a psychologist who, despite doctors back home trying to say it was all in my head, said I was mentally sound. The very last doctor that I had seen mentioned a condition called POTS, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, and my parents remembered that name. Someone had mentioned that to the neurologist (the same one who didn't do anything about the increased white count) and he said it was completely not possible and there would not be a way to check for it anyway, so nothing was ever said about it again. The doctor mentioned that I had every symptom and that he wanted to send me to one more test before I left. I had to have a Tilt Table Test performed and I barely lasted seven minutes on it before having to come off. The diagnosis was positive for POTS. It was a relief, but it was a tragedy as well. I researched the illness and realized that it is a "new" illness that not many doctors know about and there is also no cure. I became even more angry at God because when I started on my medications, I seemed to have more side effects than benefits. I still could not take care of my son like I wanted and instead of just sucking it up and figuring it out, I moped around and got depressed without a solution. His one year old birthday came around and as I went unconscious as everyone sang happy birthday to him it clicked that I would not let POTS control the rest of our lives. I would not let it define who I was as a wife, mother, or person. Although that was a turning point in my illness, I became so determined that I was actually just mean. I didn't listen. I was stubborn. I did what I wanted, when I wanted and ended up passing out and hurting myself worse than what I should have. Needless to say this past year I have had to eat a BIG dose of humble pie because it is not about doing it all on my own. I just was trying to figure things out so that I could make everyone proud of me. But instead I was alienating myself from the ones who were trying to help me. I realized that God allowed me to go through this for a reason. I may not have the slightest idea why. And at first, I definitely would have said I would have never have wanted to have went through it. BUT, now that I have gone through all this, I have learned so much about my family, my friends and who they actually are, my husband, myself, and most importantly my God. I no longer just go through life wishing the days away and not wanting to spend time with people. When I get to see people, I truly appreciate the our moments together. I no longer have a job so I see how much my husband is committed to our family. I see his devotion to our son and giving him everything he will ever need, even if he has to go without. I praise God that He put Austin in my life because I know that any other man would not put up with what he has gone through with me. I have been stubborn and caused so much more on myself than I should have and instead of sugar coating it, Austin tells me like it is and that is how it should be.. But he also brings my medicine, water, makes me rest, doesn't allow me to do anything when he knows I am not feeling good and it is all because he knows me better than I know myself. He is police chief of our small town, but that comes with big responsibilities. He deals with all the small town politics, the constant whiny calls, the bad calls, deals with punks who think they know it all, paperwork, watching what he says, being called in the middle of the night even when he is off duty, and making a round through town before turning in for the night just to make sure "the town is still there". He loves his job. On top of all that, throw in a rambunctious little boy that will be two years old in February. He has to give him his baths because if I bend over I pass out, when Dyson is sick, Austin is up helping me with him in the middle of the night just because he is a fantastic dad. All of this and the only complaint I ever hear is that he is tired so he is going to take a nap. I am so blessed beyond what I deserve for the miracle son and the amazing husband I have. I look back over the past year and a half and realize I didn't deal with my getting sick like I should have. I should have put it in God's hand the moment I got ill, but instead I got angry, then the moment I got diagnosed I became even more angry. Now I realize that God is a big God. He can handle it. It didn't take Him by surprise at all. I often times asked Him "why me?" And I know so many people who say that you are not supposed to question God but I disagree. I feel that when we truly ask God why, it lets Him know that we are seeking Him. Sometimes when we get so angry or so distant, that is our only way or communication. When I asked "why?" And truly started seeking the answer, my prayers became longer and my communication became more clear. I now know that I have a purpose for this illness in my life. My only regret is that when I look at pictures of my son from that time, I do not really recognize him. Now, even when I feel bad, I lay on the floor with him or lay in the bed or on the couch and watch cartoons with him. I will not allow my condition to take my son's mother away from him again. He deserves more than that. We deserve more than that. 

The day that turned into months.

When God allowed me to have a beautiful baby boy in February of 2012, I never realized how my life would completely change. I had known that the cause of the debilitating migraines I had during the pregnancy had never been found, but I never imagined I would be dealing with it after my pregnancy and possibly for the rest of my life. I was happy. I was finally a "mommy".  My family finally felt complete and my son was loved by so many who had prayed for his existence and health. I had no idea what I was doing and friends and loved ones got a kick out of watching me "figure it out as I go". I started having what my doctor considered post partum depression and I began taking medication to try to allow me to live without the constant increase in heart rate and the shortness of breath I felt when that occurred. The headaches were dull, but was not thought to be anything more than just a tired, first time mother. I was also working as a nurse and of course the physical, emotional, and spiritual toll it can take on a body was why I never considered anything other than the stereotypical post partum depression, even though I never really felt "depressed". August 16, 2012 was the day that all the small symptoms turned into big symptoms and the day that my life as a "normal", healthy, woman ended. The day started off as hectic as any other. I was being pulled from my desk to help the other nurses to catch up on the load that came into the clinic so quickly. On a daily/hourly basis we would end up dealing with very angry patients and also the ones who would occasionally try to break down the door to get to the back to the treatment they wanted. Each patient had, at one time, been an active member of the military and it was our job to give them the care they deserved. That care included trying to calm irate men who never received vital medications, to being an ear to listen to the soldier who had recently returned home from war and didn't know how to act as a civilian. I loved my job and did it with pride. Even on the worst days there was always something good you could find by just taking a step by and really trying to let them know that we weren't ignoring them, and that regardless of the outcome due to red tape, we really wanted to help. We had seen probably 40-50 patients before 1030 or 1100 that morning and I had a patient needing his blood pressure rechecked when I went to stand up and head towards him, I was overwhelmed with stabbing pain in my head and any time I stood from the seated position, I would get very weak, begin dry heaving, and my heart rate increased. Needless to say, I ended up in the ER and was just given medication and sent home. The next day, I had to stay at my mother's house due to my husband working his normal 48 hour shifts on the ambulance. We knew I couldn't take care of my 6 month old son as bad as I was feeling and his Grammie was more than happy to babysit! Like a song on repeat, the sudden onset of the symptoms from the day before hit me again that day. Medication, ice cold rags, laying down and every other remedy we could think of did not ease the pain. I remember I was hurting so bad, I felt like I just had to move, almost as if I was trying to run from the pain. The moment I sat up my mother said that I hit the hardwood floor face first and I was unconscious for about 10 minutes. The ambulance was called and countless hospital stays followed. I could obtain my conscious status as long as I was laying flat, but the moment I sat up unconsciousness followed. The doctors I had worked with for years and had formed a friendship with basically scratched their heads and said they "gave up". Hopelessness was a new feeling to add to all the other feelings of fear, pain, and nervousness. My lumbar puncture showed that I had an extremely high white count, which meant that I had a serious infection somewhere in my body. Sadly, my neurologist looked at the numbers and never did anything about them. September 13th rolled around and I was on the 3rd floor of the hospital and I remember my chest getting really tight and telling my mother that I couldn't breathe. She called for the nurse and told them I was having a hard time breathing and a nurse was promised to come to my room as soon as possible. Seconds later I remember the tightness getting so bad that I wanted to cry from the pain. The oxygen saturation monitor that was attached to my finger started alarming and I remember nothing until I woke up with all my former colleagues standing around my bed with tears in their eyes. I asked what had happened and they stated that a "code 9" had been called to my room. That meant that a team from the ER (where I had formerly worked) had to go to whatever room was announced to work on and try to revive the patient that had stopped breathing or whose heart had stopped. They said that in my case, I had went into respiratory arrest. I stopped breathing. I was in complete shock as they told me this and prepared to take me to the ICU. They said that not only had I stopped breathing once, but I did it twice and my pulse began to drop. I again lost consciousness as I was being wheeled out of my room, past my crying family, and down to ICU. The next couple of days were a blur due to me not able to stay conscious for more than about one minute, at the longest, before I lost consciousness again. From stories that I have pieced together from family, an old lifetime friend suggested a new doctor in town and of course they jumped at any hope he would be able to make me well again. He performed another spinal tap which showed my numbers had increased even more and when he told my family that, they told him that they had been unaware of the original lab report. When my husband approached the neurologist about it, his response was "there were five other critical labs that day so I figured it was a lab error".. Needless to say he has since been fired from my care and was turned into the administration of the hospital, after a pretty stern lashing from few members of my family. A couple of days in ICU and I was back to my "original" problems. I was being treated for spinal meningitis and was able to leave the hospital with the help of being confined to a wheelchair and having a home health nurse come to my house for treatment. More months went by with my quality of life being next to zero and I had basically become a prisoner in my own body. Our son spent most days/nights with my sister or my mother and I wasn't even allowed to hold him for fear I would pass out and drop him. He was terrified of me. Whether it was from him being able to sense that I didn't feel good, or if it was because he no longer felt the connection to me, I am not sure. All I knew was that the dream I had always had of being a wife and mother was being ripped away from me and I was angry. Sadly, being angry didn't go away easily. In the upcoming posts, I will reveal how God unfolded Himself to me and how much I resisted, but also how steadfast He was/is. My story is far from over, but the rest I will save for another day. Thanks for reading.

Beginning my journey

I have never before decided to write my thoughts out expecting people to read them. I have a social media page and I know that people see my status updates, but to actually put myself in a position for people to get to know me through my writing has never really crossed my mind. I am just an ordinary girl with an ordinary life. Everything in my life has never been simple and I have dealt with illness since I was twelve. Endometriosis tormented my teen years and took away the hope I would ever allow myself to have in having a traditional family one day. Surgeries came and went, the pain stayed. I learned to deal with pain and discomfort for so long that when I say now that I feel bad, I almost feel like I am whining and I try to push through. I was told that due to the extent of my endometriosis that I would need to prepare myself that I would never get pregnant. I became very interested in adopting a child and giving it all the love I could have given my own child. Just like many southern women, I met a guy, fell in love and then wedding bells followed. The first year was a complete disaster! I started nursing school, he lost his job and we ended up having to live in a camper and then finally with his parents. One day I was working at the hospital and ended up in the ER. The doctor told me that I had more than likely miscarried and that I needed to go home and rest. I didn't even know I was pregnant but I mourned for the child I never got to know. I decided to take the "probably" that the doctor said and make up in my mind that I had not been pregnant and that everything was just a coincidence. The hole in my heart continued to grow as people all around me was getting pregnant and starting families. I focused on nursing school and graduated with straight A's. My passion was to care for people. From the time I was little and playing doctor with my stuffed animals and even starting a club to raise money for elderly people I would make homemade necklaces and get donations from as many people I could with my big smile and curly hair. When I would see the relief and joy it gave the elderly people just to know that someone loves them, it wasn't even about the money.

I began my nursing career thinking I could conquer the world and change someone's life by just showing them attention and that I care. I felt like I found purpose for my life and was finally proud of each step I was taking. Joy came again when I found out I was pregnant and this time I got to enjoy weeks of feeling like a "mommy"... Sadly more heartache followed when my husband and I lost our child and it was a wake up knowing that I may have to endure the torture of losing my children in the future, instead of just not being able to get pregnant at all. I couldn't decide which was worse. After many months and a lot of encouraging words from others, we decided to look at our losses as a glimmer of hope. I was told for years I would never get pregnant but God proved that only He can make that prediction and when he allowed me to get pregnant that he was showing me that He was in control. After another year of trying for a baby of our own we decided to look into adoption and started getting information about the process.
We finally stopped trying to make our own destiny and gave up trying so we could relax and just enjoy each other. It wasn't until then that we allowed God to work within us by putting ourselves on hold.

Two months later, I was in severe pain and went to see my doctor and was told I was pregnant. I lost my mind. I didn't think I could handle another loss. I went for an ultrasound and was sent to the ER due to the results. The time in that ER room felt like it was passing like quicksand. The ultrasound technician took me for the ultrasound they needed and she very rudely and emotionless told me that I was having an ectopic pregnancy. Our hearts were crushed again but God was not finished. The next week when we followed up with my obstetrician, God began the healing process. I had not had an ectopic pregnancy and my child was still alive within me! The pregnancy was high risk and was full of medications, bed rest, and even preterm labor. My son was fighting his way to make it into our arms early but we needed him to wait a little longer, regardless of how much we wanted to hold him. After three days of labor and contractions that were two minutes apart, an allergic reaction to my epidural and my kidneys deciding to not work at the time, our son was finally with us in our arms. Dyson Edward is our miracle from God and just the beginning of how my world has forever been changed since 2012. Feel free to follow my journey as I bring you up to speed on my life within the past couple of years. I may not be a professional writer and I know that I give way more details than needed, but I am hoping that with my story maybe someone can relate and not feel so alone or at least realize that God is sometimes quiet, but never gone. This year is going to be a year of positive thinking and a whole new outlook on life. Be patient, I am learning and continue to learn as God puts on my heart what to write. God bless.