Endometriosis Awareness AMA

So in observance of Endometriosis Awareness Month (March), I'd like to use this post as a little bit of a Q and A. Anything you've ever wanted to ask but you felt like it was prying, too personal, or a 'silly' question? There are no silly questions (although when I'm involved there are silly answers!) So here's my sort of AMA. Ask me anything about endometriosis, about life with endo, anything along those lines! You can do it here (anonymously or not, your choice) or on my facebook/twitter if you happen to see this link there, and I'll answer as best I can. I just want to help spread awareness about a misunderstood disease that affects so very many women in horrible, life-altering ways.

Surgery... and a plea

Tomorrow I go in for surgery to excise the endometriosis that causes me such extreme pain each month.

This is the same type of surgery that almost killed me two years ago... but the same type that was successful three years before that.

It is a new doctor... a man of God who has helped a dear friend of mine get her life back.

I come to you humbly asking for prayer

...that I will get through this surgery without complications

...that it will give me my life back

...for a smooth and minimally painful recovery.

I also come to you asking for your blessings for some dear friends of mine while I am 'out of commission'.

This is "Annie".

Remember her?  Remember those eyes that reminded me so much of my A when I saw them for the first time this Spring?

Annie is being adopted!

It absolutely thrills me to tell you that God used me and my precious A to help her find her family.

I "met" Amanda shortly after I posted about Annie in May.  She and her husband have committed to adopt her.  It makes me grin just thinking about how it all came about.  A total God story.

Amanda is an amazing and generous person and has launched a fundraiser to help not only her family, but another family bring home their child(ren).  It is a 50/50 wherein you get to vote on which family will receive the other half of the funds.  Amanda and her husband put up the first $100, because they are wonderful, selfless people committed to helping ALL orphans.  Their donation was finally matched yesterday bringing the fundraiser total to $200.  With the donations divided in half, Amanda and her husband would just break even if the fundraiser ended today.

But it doesn't.  There are a little over five days left of this fundraiser.  Still plenty of time to donate for your favorite child or family...

...or just to make your friend Katie smile.

It is my dearest wish that I will come home to a significant bump in the Jones' family's fundraising efforts.  Please check it out here.

Just $5 earns you a vote.  Little more than a bag of potato chips.  Think of the difference it would make if we ALL just chipped in $5.

You can also find their tax-deductible Reece's Rainbow FSP here.

Pretty please?

Endometriosis: Facts You've Probably Never Heard

As my struggles with my endometriosis have worsened over the past few months, I've found myself thinking - if people really knew the facts about endometriosis, would they still treat sufferers with such indifference?  I think not... which is why I'm launching this new awareness campaign:  Things You Didn't Know About Endometriosis.  Today I'm going to list a series of facts about endo that most people who don't have the disease (medical practicioners included) probably don't know.  After that, I'm going to highlight each fact in its own blog post, including personal testimonies from endometriosis sufferers, medical research, case studies, surgical reports, and anything else I can gain access to.  I encourage you to share these posts with your family, friends, and doctors - both endo sufferers and non-sufferers.  Maybe, together, we can increase understanding of this disease in both the general population and the medical community... and maybe, if we can't bring an end to our suffering, we can at least decrease it.

Before I get into the little known facts, I want to give a brief overview of what endometriosis is, for anyone who might not know.  Endometriosis is a chronic disease of the female reproductive system for which there is no cure.  Endometriosis occurs when the endometrial lining (which normally grows inside the uterus to allow a growing embryo to implant, or is shed during a monthly period) actually grows *outside* the uterus.  Endometrial tissue can commonly be found on the uterus, fallopian tubes, ovaries, bladder, and pelvic cavity walls of endometriosis sufferers.  It can also travel to more distant organs.  Occasionally, endometriosis causes cysts - fluid or semi-solid sacs - to form on the ovaries.  This abnormal tissue can cause a variety of issues in the pelvic cavity, as it is actual, solid tissue that is not meant to be there.  Endometriosis can cause severe pelvic pain, abnormal and heavy periods, and infertility, among other things.

Normal uterus vs. Endometriosis

Here's a little something to help put this into perspective.

The definition of Endometriosis, from the National Library of Medicine:  "Endometriosis is a female health disorder that occurs when cells from the lining of the womb (uterus) grow in other areas of the body."

The definition of Cancer, from the National Library of Medicine:  "Cancer is the uncontrolled growth of abnormal cells in the body."

There is certainly one main difference between the two:  Cancer cells are malignant, and will grow uncontrollably until they take over healthy cells.  They grow at an unsually rapid rate, which is what causes this disease to be fatal.  Endometrial cells are not malignant.  They grow at a normal rate, thus the disease does not usually result in death.  But look at the similarities.  Abnormal cells, cells that don't belong where they are found, that can grow anywhere in the body... on healthy organs... encroaching on the space they need to perform their life-sustaining functions.  Malignancy.  That's the difference.  Not so different after all, it seems... especially when you consider the following:

• Endometriosis can grow anywhere in the body.  It is most commonly found on pelvic organs/in the pelvic cavity, but it has also been found in previous surgical scars, on the bladder, ureters and kidneys, on the bowel (intestines, colon, appendix, rectum) and even rarely inside the vagina, inside the bladder, on the skin, in the lungs, on the spine and even in the brain.

Possible sites of endometriosis

• Endometriosis can be fatal!  Endometrial tissue can cause internal hemorrhaging, undetectable by a CT scan, and result in death.  Don't believe me?  Read one sufferer's account here.
• An estimated 10% of women are affected by endometriosis.  That means that, if you think of yourself and nine female friends, chances are that one of you has endometriosis, whether it has been diagnosed or not.
• On that note, endometriosis often goes undiagnosed because women think they are just having painful periods.  Because it can only be confirmed by laporoscopic surgery and biopsy, many women suffer without ever knowing what is causing their pain.
• Though up to 10% of the female population is affected, not everyone suffers from endometriosis to the same degree.  In fact, endometriosis is diagnosed in stages (once again similar to cancer) from I (minimal) to IV (severe) based on the extent, location and depth of the abnormal tissue.
• Contrary to what society and some doctors will tell you, extremely painful periods are not normal!  If your 'cramps' are so severe that they interfere with your life and ability to function normally, something is wrong.  It is not normal to suffer so severely that you can't even get out of bed for several days each month - seek help!
• Endometriomas - ovarian cysts caused by endometriosis which do not usually resolve on their own and require surgery to remove, can range from sizes smaller than a pea to sizes larger than a grapefruit.

• There is no cure.  All treatments for endometriosis are aimed at reducing the pain and impact on other internal organs, and sometimes preserving fertility.  No known treatment effectively cures endometriosis in all patients.  It is a common misconception that pregnancy, menopause, or a hysterectomy will 'cure' endometriosis.  They will not.  Once the endometrial tissue has begun to grow outside the uterus, removing the uterus or the hormones will not always make it 'disappear'.  Many women suffer their entire lives.
• Some of the treatments are brutal.  First line treatment includes hormonal birth control, which can have serious side effects for many.  Second line treatment is surgery.  Other treatments include other hormonal medications with even more serious side effects, which often require other medications to counteract.  For some, the treatment is as bad or worse than the disease.  This starting to sound like any other disease you've heard of?
• In advanced stages, endometriosis tissue and adhesions can actually cause the abdominal organs to fuse together!
• No one is too young to have endometriosis.  Many women begin to experience their symptoms in adolescence (as I did)!  In fact, upon my diagnosis (at age 18), my doctor told me that one of the worst cases he had ever seen was in a fifteen year old girl who had only been menstruating for about two years.
• Endometriosis can cause infertility in 30-40% of sufferers even if the fallopian tubes are not compromised.  The reason for this is still largely unknown, but it is a very real issue for many women who try... and try... and try... and fail... and fail... and fail... to get pregnant.
• Endometriosis goes hand in hand with any number of other conditions.  Pelvic Inflammatory Disease (PID), Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS), sexual dysfunction, as well as other digestive, urinary, bleeding and even psychological conditions are often caused or impacted by endometriosis.
• Endometriosis is, in fact, referred to by endo specialists across the country as "the benign cancer", because it acts so similarly to cancer without being malignant.

Saying this is what it feels like is an understatement.

So, dear doctor who felt the need to tell me it was "not necessary to admit endometriosis patients for pain control" in the emergency room tonight, perhaps if you educated yourself a bit on the disease you are supposed to be treating, you might understand that even though it doesn't kill in as huge numbers as cancer, endometriosis can be devastating, your tests can be wrong, and your judgment is harmful.  Next time I see you... I will be armed with information.  And to you friends and family of someone who has endometriosis... remember the quote:  "be kinder and gentler than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle."  Your friends and family members may not be fighting cancer, but they are fighting a disease, and it is a brutal disease with brutal treatments.  They need you now more than ever.  And to my endo sisters... take a moment just to reflect on this sentence... you are not alone.  Imagine if, when you walked into the ER for the umpteenth time because your pain was out of control, you were surrounded by other women also suffering from endometriosis.  Imagine how supported you would feel.  Well, sisters, we may not always be able to be there for each other in person, but we ARE here for each other, in spirit, in support.  We know how it feels.  You don't have to go it alone.  Reach out to those who understand, and arm yourselves with information for those who don't.

Sources:

1. National Library of Medicine.  Retrieved August 14, 2013, from http://www.google.com

2. Facts About Endometriosis.  Endometriosis.org.  Retrieved August 14, 2013, from http://endometriosis.org/resources/articles/facts-about-endometriosis/

3. About Endometriosis.  Endometriosis.org.  Retrieved August 14, 2013, from http://endometriosis.org/endometriosis/

4. Myths and Misconceptions in Endometriosis.  Endometriosis.org.  Retrieved August 14, 2013, from http://endometriosis.org/resources/articles/myths/

5. Endometriosis:  A Guide for Patients.  American Society for Reproductive Medicine.  Retrieved August 14, 2013, from  http://www.asrm.org/Endometriosis_booklet/

6. Endometriosis In-Depth Report.  New York Times.  Retrieved August 13, 2013, from http://health.nytimes.com/health/guides/disease/endometriosis/print.html

Endometriosis REALLY sucks.

It's official:  I'm having surgery, probably in about two weeks.  This will be my second biggest surgery, and my first with a new doctor.  It will include cauterization and excision of endometriosis, nerve ablation/neurectomy, possible bowel resection and/or ureter repair, and perhaps a gortex device to stop my right ovary from getting stuck off in the middle of nowhere as it is want to do.

Until then, I am in such unbearable pain, constantly, that I have to be on medication nonstop.

I lost my job today because of issues related to my medical condition.  That hurts, I'm not going to lie.

This puts me searching for a job with surgery in just a couple weeks - and who's going to hire me knowing I'll be out for at least a week very soon?

But if I wait until after I recover to get a job, I won't be able to pay a very important bill and it could have dire consequences for my future, for years.  Could even affect my ability to adopt.

How's that for irony... the disease that causes infertility, that causes many people to choose adoption, has become so complicated that it may actually indirectly prevent me from adopting as well.

So I'm having a down day.  If you have any extra prayers, I would really appreciate them.  I need this surgery to get here fast and I need it to work.

In fact, I'm counting down the days.

I really just want to live a normal life.  Everything was going to be okay after this surgery and once again, my life has come crashing down around me.  Sometimes I really have no idea what path God wants me to be traveling down...

Endometriosis sucks.

That's it.  It just does.  There's no other way to put it, it just flat out SUCKS.

Imagine being in pain... ALL THE TIME.

After FIVE surgeries in as many years, intended to reduce the pain.

Pain so great that sometimes, all you can do is curl up into a ball and cry.

Pain so great that sometimes, you *choose* to spend a beautiful evening in the Emergency waiting room rather than outside, because you just can't stand it anymore.

Imagine living all, or almost all of your days, in that pain.

Going to work in that pain... trying to be productive... trying to forget how much it hurts.

Spending time with friends in that pain... unable to fully enjoy yourself because it hurts every.single.minute.

Attending special occasions in that pain... trying to smile and chat when all you can think about is curling up with a heating pad.

Harder still, attending things like baby showers, births, children's parties, mother's day lunches... in that pain.

That pain that constantly reminds you that you may never have the privilege of giving birth.

Praying you can still be glad for others who don't have to struggle in the same way you do.

Praying that the pain doesn't make you bitter.

Imagine thinking you were doing so well, having a good day... and then breaking down crying at the smallest thing, realizing you were really just holding it in all that time.

Imagine heading into another surgery... and looking forward to it, because it just might make the pain better.

Imagine being dependent on doctors and medications - often ones stigmatized by one group or another (birth control, pain medications, anti-depressants)... just to live a semi-normal life.

Imagine not knowing if you'll *ever* feel better...

Or knowing that you may have to have a premature hysterectomy just to gain some relief.

And that in doing so, you open yourself up to a whole host of other possible issues.

Imagine realizing you're lucky in so many ways... this disease is not usually fatal...

But the pain makes it so easy to forget... or not to care.

Imagine that this whole time, it seems like no one understands.

They label you:  Whiner.  Addict.  Downer.  Liar.  And so many more.

Sometimes, they even abandon you.  Your struggles are too much for them.

This is not a disease for which people can easily have sympathy.  There simply isn't enough understanding yet.

Google doesn't even recognize it as a word.

Imagine knowing that THIS... is your life.

There is no escaping it.

That's where I am, right now.  And I'm trying hard to push on, to be okay...

But sometimes, I just need people to understand... that they don't understand.

And that that's okay.

But be patient with me.

I'm fighting a battle you do not know.

Happy Mother's Day

If you read that title and think that this post isn't for you, please reconsider.  YOU are exactly who I am writing this post for.

You, who have tried and tried to become a mother, because you have the heart of a mother, but whose efforts have never been fruitful.

You, who have lost babies you never even got to meet - you mothers of angels.

You, who have held your child in your arms and then had to surrender him to God.

You, who have brought an adopted or foster child into your home and raised them as your own - mothers, no different from any other.

And you, who have loved a child with a mother's love, even if no formal ties exist.

This is your day too.  No, this is your day especially, because you are exceptional for the struggles you have been through, for the courage you have had to walk where others dared not to tread.

Give yourself a moment to accept that today is for you.  You are not left out.  You are not alone.

A year ago, a little girl gave me the most beautiful gift I have ever received... in a cup of dirt.  My little green sprout, that turned into my big yellow marigold... and the card she worked on all day to wish me a happy mother's day.

I do not have any children, except for the children of my heart, of which she is one.  And apparently, somehow she realized as well... that there is more than one kind of mother.  This child was nine.

While your hearts are breaking today because you feel like this day isn't really for you, or because it reminds you of something you were robbed of (I admit to having shed a few tears already), remember that.  A little child had the insight to see a mother in someone who, by the definition of society, wasn't one.  Our children, pure and innocent, know the truth.  They know that this day is for you too - whether your child is in your arms, your heart, or with God.

Please take a moment to smile... and remember all the little yellow flowers that will be waiting for you someday, lovingly planted by those babes you can't hold in your arms this mother's day.

Your struggle is a hard one - one that I know very well - and you, more than anyone, deserve to be celebrated.

Praise God, From Whom All Blessings Flow!

This morning, when I woke up, I scarcely wanted to get out of bed.  As I fell asleep last night, my mind was preoccupied with many things... the kids, their behavior, how to work out a busy schedule, how to handle going from caring for one person, and occasionally others, to three people all the time.  And then there was the pain.  Because of my endometriosis, I generally experience about a week of excruciating pain each month, sometimes longer.  The only long term treatment option for this is pregnancy or hysterectomy... and the disease impairs your ability to conceive.  Irony.  Not funny irony, for someone who has wanted to be pregnant since she was ten.  Not funny at all after four surgeries, two units of donor blood to save my life, and a week in the hospital.  Especially not funny when after all that, I'm still experiencing this horrible pain each month.  Yes, I hate endometriosis very much.  One more bit of irony - it's not even recognized as a word by Google Chrome!  How on earth are we supposed to help the thousands of women who suffer from it when it isn't even a widely recognized or well understood disease?

But I digress.  This was weighing especially heavily on me last night because I will be away at a conference next Monday and Tuesday, so my very last chance to get the medication that makes that week bearable, was today.   This is a conference for Child Passenger Safety Technicians and advocates, one that I've twice attended before, and one that I greatly enjoy.  I did not want to spend it huddled in my hotel room in excruciating pain.  After receiving no response from the doctor's office yesterday, I didn't have high hopes for today.  But they came through.  As I lie in my bed in pain, letting Veggie Tales be our babysitter for the morning, the office called and my prescription was ready.  My outlook for the next few days is so much brighter!  I can enjoy my conference now!

Then, the greatest blessing of all came to my attention.  You see, as I lay in bed this morning and prayed for relief, for myself, for my conference, I prayed first that God would intervene on behalf of the orphan.  I also prayed first that He would take the greatest care of my precious DBKs.  I told Him that yes, I prayed for myself, for my disease, for my conference, but that I would endure that pain if it meant He could turn His attention to those in greater need, to the children.  I thought especially of little Sarah, who I posted about earlier this week.  When I posted about her, there were less than two weeks until her file went back to her country's government, likely condemning her to live out the rest of her days in that awful orphanage.  With every day that passed, my fear that Sarah would not find a family grew.

So, as I often do, I stopped in at Reece's Rainbow to check the My Family Found Me page - the page listing all the children who had families in various stages of the process to adopt them.  I expected to see the same faces I saw yesterday - sometimes they roll in in great number, and sometimes they slow to a trickle.  I didn't even dare to hope to see Sarah's little face on My Family Found Me.

But I did! 


Yes, that's right!  Precious Sarah, whom myself and others had begged for God to bring into a family where she can grow and be nurtured and loved and reach her full potential, has found a family!  Look at her there, on the My Family Found Me page, where she deserved to be all along.  SARAH IS COMING HOME!

God did not just answer my selfish prayer.  He did not come to my aid and leave a precious little one whose need was far greater without.  He answered both!  Our God is truly great and there is nothing He cannot do.  He has brought countless children out of terrible places and into loving families.  He has healed the sick. He has walked with us through our most difficult moments, through our times of praise, and through all those in between.  PRAISE HIS HOLY NAME!  Words are completely inadequate for the JOY I feel in my heart right now, because He has truly SAVED Sarah.  He saved her soul 2000 years ago when He sent His son to die for our sins, but today He has committed to save her earthly body as well.

To Sarah's family - whomever you are - we don't know yet - thank you, from the bottom of my heart.  Thank you for hearing our cries, her cries, the cries of a God who loves her and doesn't want her abandoned in that place one moment longer.  THANK YOU.

Yes, some days are hard.  Yes, last night I was crying in pain, fear, sadness and desperation.  I hurt, I missed my dear best friend Angie, I worried for Sarah and for countless other children, I wondered if I was truly doing God's will with my precious DBKs.  I went to bed with a heavy heart.  I woke up with a heavy heart.  But God has turned all that around.  The sun is shining, the sky is blue (the tank is clean.... oh wait, that's a Nemo reference), I have a happy little boy babbling at me and smiling from his high chair, two happy little girls who will get to play at the park on this beautiful day, relief from my constant struggle with the pain caused by my disease... and Sarah has a family.  CONGRATULATIONS SARAH!  And congratulations to the family who will be so lucky to call her their daughter.

Praise Him, from Whom ALL blessings flow!

50 Things About Me

Hello out there, blog world.  I realize it's been a while since I've blogged - for one reason or another life has been busy or exciting or exhausting, and by night I've been caught up in the blogs of various adoptive families (wherein one always leads to another, which leads to another, which leads to another...) and now for the first time in a good couple of weeks, I think I may have less than 15 tabs open at once...

I also realize the blog has been very serious lately - and for good reason, as the situation right now is dire and prayer is still urgently needed.  But I've learned something... even when we're praying our hardest, even when the rain starts to fall and we have no shelter... there's a rainbow - God's promise - in the sky, if you just look for it.  So even though times are still hard and prayer is still needed... it's time for something a little less serious for a moment.  So, borrowing from a social networking trend, and to add to the brief 'about me' in addition to my blog posts that concern my own life, I'm going to share 50 things about me.  I expect them to be random.  Because...

1. I'm very random.
2. Lately, I haven't been able to sleep until the early morning hours, and these blog posts keep striking me in the middle of the night.
3. I started writing this 50 things a long time ago.  Like, days.    
4. My favorite lotion is from Mary Kay.  It's some sort of... red tea and something... it was a gift from a daycare parent years ago and I ran out last winter, I was very sad.
5. All my favorite names start with M or A.  Funny, considering 2 of my DBKs are M and A!
6. Tonight... no, every night... I really miss my best friend Angie.  
7. The other day, I watched Wife Swap, and I enjoyed it.  I now know the real meaning of 'guilty pleasure'.
8. I have a silly band shaped like a cat and a bracelet I made on my right wrist. They both mean a lot to me for different reasons, but I bet when people see them, it further cements in their mind the idea that I must be a child.
9. I look ridiculously young for my age.  When I did service learning at a middle school while I was in college, I often heard kids exclaim "That kid is DRIVING?!" as I pulled out of the parking lot.  I'll bet if I put pigtails in and overalls on, I could pass for under 12.  Professional acquaintences who are police officers want to use me in sting/undercover operations.  Have I made my point yet?  
10. 8th grade was my favorite year of school, and social studies was my favorite class.  I retained more information there than I did from four years of college.  Go ahead.  Ask me the capitol of Minnesota.
11. Once again, these things are going to be very random.  Please tell me that counts for another thing.
12. I don't like dogs.  I put up with them when I visit friends, I even bear a little bit of affection for some of them, but I'm not really a fan.  I don't even like puppies.  Cat person all the way.
13. I have a collection of Polly Pockets that most four-year-olds would envy.  
14. I have endometriosis and it sucks.
15. My favorite show is Bones, but I can't watch it until I know everything's going to be cool between the two main characters.  Permanently.  NO SPOILERS!  Unless you just wanna say "Everything's good". That, I'm cool with.
16. I've seen Hannah Montana in concert.  A certain little girl had never been to a concert before and had her heart set on it.  We had a blast, and I know the words to all the songs.  I am not ashamed.  I was told I was "The best Katie in the whole world" that night.  <3
17. I still sleep with my baby blanket.  And a stuffed dolphin, and A's elephant when she's not here.  Once again, I am not ashamed.
18. I'm always cold.
19. I'm convinced I'm going to repeat myself.  Whose idea was it to make this fifty things?  But now that I'm committed... well, I'm committed.
20. I know way too much about car seats even for a car seat tech.  I can probably give you weight stats and compatibility issues for any seat on the market.
21. I love babywearing.  It's so much more comfortable to shop with little man in the moby than it is to lug an infant seat around.  I'm currently enamored with my borrowed Baby K'tan.  
22. I'm seriously afraid of bugs.  Like, unnaturally.  I can't sleep if I know there's one in the room.  I will go completely berserk in public if a bee buzzes by my ear.  It is embarassing.
23. I also have an irrational fear of oil wells.  You know the ones that pump the oil out of the ground rocking back and forth?  *Shiver*  Stupid things have almost made me wreck my car twice.
24. Lee's famous recipe may be my favorite food ever.  I really want some right now.  
25. I'm running out of things to say about me.
26. I'm a fan of attachment parenting.  Or in my case, attachment... whatever the heck it is I do.
27. I'm getting sick.  My temperature never runs over 97.1 unless I'm sick.  'Normal' is positively miserable.
28. 28 is my favorite number.
29. Blue is my favorite color, and it has been since it was purple for a little while, and before that blue again, and before that it was briefly orange because it was the color of Josie's hair from Josie and the Pussycats (the cartoon.  I feel like I'm aging myself here.)
30. I was bullied as a child to the point I had to see a therapist.  I had literally no friends for three months.  Very few of my peers from that time period even remember the way they treated me.  It's given me a need to go on an anti-bullying crusade.
31. I believe very strongly in a lot of causes.  I only have a blog for one.
32. I'm pro-life and unapologetic about it.   I'm not an extremist and I'm not unsympathetic, but I believe in the sanctity of human life from conception.  
33. I don't understand why Christians don't practice/celebrate the customs of the Jewish people from whom we are derived.  Why did the coming of Christ put an end to those things?  This is not me being a smart alek, I'm seriously curious.  
34. I write short fiction and nonfiction stories, as well as fanfiction.  Yeah, I'm a nerd like that.  Poetry, too.  
35. My friends and family mean more to me than anything in the world.  Each and every one of you.  Even those I've never had the priviledge to meet.
36. My favorite smell is apple cinnamon.
37. I'm thinking way too hard about these 50 things.  I need one of those question-answer survey things instead.  
38. I have a black cat named Boo who turned one this week.  He's currently vying for my attention.
39. I have an unhealthy addiction to Dr. Pepper.
40. I enjoy playing with Legos to an inappropriate degree for my age.
41. I don't actually believe in ghosts, but I like to explore things that are 'haunted' because they often have really interesting histories, and because it's really fun to make fun of ghost hunters... in a friendly, jesting way ;)
42. I became the fourth generation of my family to graduate from my college in June.
43. I've been nauseated for six months.  No, I'm not pregnant.  Well, I mean, anything could happen, but if that's it, you'd better get the Pope on the line.
44. I've kept journals since I could write.  I don't remember ever throwing one away, but there's one I can't find and it drives me crazy.
45. Being a teenager was very, very hard for me, and with few exceptions I wouldn't do any of it over again if you paid me.  I wouldn't change it if you paid me either.  I believe my experiences make me who I am.
46. I'm intensely fascinated by history, particularly the human side of 'stories' you've known for years.  I'm curious about what it was really like to live through a time period - not just who the important people, places and dates were, but what life felt like.  Because of this, I do and always have done a lot of independent research.
47. It's February in Ohio and we still haven't had a snow that covered the tips of the blades of grass.  Maybe Al Gore was onto something...
48. I hate my curly hair.  If it didn't feel selfish and wasteful I'd have it straightened again.  I think I look frumpy.
49. Frumpy is a really funny word, if you think about it.  A lot of words are like that... like oligodendrocyte and hippocampus.  Hooray for being a health ed major!
50. The last ten things have taken me an hour to come up with, so I'm really glad this is over now.  Questions?  Five things about you?

Why International Adoption?

So, I had intended to continue my 'A Heart For Adoption' series of posts with another post about how God has prepared me for the adoption journey - an important one - but right now I feel it important to address the 'Why' before I address the 'How'.  Further, I feel it is important to answer the number one question that has been asked of me in two months (ish) since I've made this decision.  So, this post will seek to answer the question of not only "Why", but "Why adoption" and "Why international adoption."

I'll start with the first - Why adoption?  Why not go the traditional route, get married, have your 'own' kids, why pay thousands of dollars for something you can do naturally?  Don't you want your kids to be "yours"?  Don't you want to pass on your genes?  Is something wrong with you?  Can't you have your 'own' kids?

Well, the answer to those questions is not a simple yes or no.  Because truly, I do want a biological child - if only for the amazing experiences unique to giving birth.  Those are things I've dreamed of since I was a child - yes, even the decidedly unglorious stretch marks, engorgements, labor pains.  I do not want to, and I do not feel the need to give up on those aspirations simply because I have decided to adopt.  Many, many people do both.  I'm going to be one of them, biology allowing.  But to clear a few things up, no, I do not want to give birth to have a child that is "mine".  All of my children will be equally mine, no matter how they came to me.  And no, I do not want to give birth to 'pass on my genes'.  I don't know if you've met me, but I'm a bit of an oddball.  Llama.  Any child bearing my genes (or likely, my rearing)... is probably going to be a bit of an oddball too.  Which is okay.  I like odd.  Narwhals.  (The tourettes is getting worse...)  But I don't have any sort of delusion that my genes are 'superior' to anyone else's, or that I need to continue a biological lineage.  As long as I have children and love to give them (and I have so much of that already!) I will have been successful as a mother.

And as for the question "Can't you have children of your own?" - the short answer is, why yes, I most certainly can.  If I can't conceive them, I can adopt them... and hey, guess what?  They will still be my own.  The longer answer is, well, yes, I have endometriosis.  It's currently unknown whether I will be able to have biological children.  The doctors say everything looks okay for now, but many women with endometriosis can't conceive for reasons that can't be physically explained. I personally believe that the amount of testing, medication and radiation that we are exposed to in the course of diagnosis and treatment contributes to infertility issues.  So, well... I won't know, if I can carry a child, until I try.  But my endometriosis and the uncertainty of my childbearing future is not the reason I have a heart for adoption.  It adds to it, certainly, but I do not wish to adopt simply because I may not be able to conceive.  If I could conceive 50 'healthy' children, I'd still want to adopt.  There's just too much of a need.  Make sense to anyone?

Further, as I stated, there is an immense need for adoption.  There are tens of thousands of adoptable children in the world.  Tens of thousands of children growing up in foster care, orphanages, boarding schools, or worse, mental institutions - simply because they were born with some sort of special need, ranging from sometimes fatal genetic conditions, to simple birthmarks!  Having had my heart prepared for adoption - particularly special needs adoption - as described in three recent posts, having seen their little faces, heard their cries for help, their simple desires for a family... how could I say no?

Take a look at the 292 adoptable children here, in my home state of Ohio:  http://adoptionphotolistingohio.org/browse.php

Listen to this:  These words describe a 15 year old girl, whose desperation for the love of a family is painfully evident.  "[The child] really wants a family to call her own.  [She] really wants to be adopted."


She is fifteen.  Older children are statistically less likely to be adopted and more likely to have serious problems tat require dedicated parental involvement.  To be blunt, people want to adopt babies.  And can you blame them?  Babies are amazing!  Everyone should have the priviledge of loving one.  But our older kids need love too, and our special needs kids, and so many others.  I have love to give.  How can I not put those two puzzle pieces together?




So now, since I have acknowledged the tremendous need for adoption, even within my own state... why, you might ask, don't I do that?  Why not skip the politics and uncertainty and complications of international adoption and adopt locally?  Why not foster?

Once again, there is not a simple answer here - at least not at first.  Because, you see, I do plan to do those things.  Specifically, I plan to be a foster parent, to help children feel loved and wanted and find forever families... and even become some of their forever families, when it becomes clear that this child is a member of our family.  For those who don't understand the foster/adoption dynamic (How do you choose which kids to adopt?  You know you can't adopt them all!), I recommend you read the books Another Place At The Table and One Small Boat by Kathy Harrison.  Her words and experience explain it better than I ever could.

So, the short answer is, I recognize and feel called to that need too, and plan to address it.  But there is something more.  A reason why I'm willing to go through apostilles, UCSIS, international politics, travel, expense, severely delayed children, uncertainty, and many, many things that I am historically uncomfortable with.  And that reason can be stated better in a photo than in words.

This is Ksenia (not her real name).

Isn't she precious?  Perfect little toddler girl.  She has Down Syndrome, and because of this, she has grown up in an orphanage.  Orphanages, or 'Baby Houses' as they are often called, can range from wonderfully stimulating places, to warehouses where children are simply stored.  By Ksenia's condition, it is apparent that her needs are at least satisfactorily met at her baby house.

Who, you might ask, is this poor little hurt soul?

This is Ksenia.  The same girl.  Custom in many Eastern European countries is for children to be raised in baby houses until they are 4-6 years old.  At this time they are transferred to adult mental institutions, where they are housed among others who have been there since childhood, or who are higher functioning and often take advantage of the vulnerability of the smaller children.

This word, 'transfer'... is worthy of a post all its own.  But for the sake of understanding, I will try to condense it here.

Transfer means losing the only 'family' a child has ever known.  The orphanage caregivers who have often been with them from birth, the familiar places, the toys, the lifestyle, the care.  Transfer rips all that away, from a child who has already been either literally orphaned or abandoned at birth.  Further, the children are transferred to horrible places.  Places we would prefer to believe do not exist.  Places we would like to relegate as a relic of a distant past, long before Dorthea Dix came along to reform the care of the mentally ill.  But in other countries... these places still exist.  If you have time, there is an amazing documentary on an institution in one Eastern European country that displays the sad realities of these places - places like the one to which little Ksenia was sent, at only 5-6 years old.  You can find it here.  And you know what?  It hurts to watch.  You'll think about it all day.  You'll probably cry.  But the children in this video, who have already been sent to the institution, have almost zero chance of ever being adopted.  They will live out their entire lives here.  We have the ability to watch this video, think about it a while, then go back to our comfortable lives... or not watch it at all, and pretend these horrors don't exist.  The children and young adults in the video?  They don't have that option.  Don't we owe it to them to at least take notice of their lives?

So what does this have to do with the question I'm answering?

THIS:

Does not happen in the United States.  Sure, foster care is not perfect.  Of course children deserve forever families.  Sure, there are abused and neglected children everywhere.  But the system of widespread institutionalization of people with special needs is, for the most part, a relic of the past, in this country.  We have moved from a system of institutionalization to a system of home-based care.  Children do not spend their short days bedridden, simply because they have Down Syndrome - until they pass away at an early age... in this country.

Katie's Mama, Susanna, expressed my thoughts concisely in a recent post, although her point was slightly different from the one I am making.  I should hope she doesn't mind if I quote her here:

What if you went to visit a family you hadn’t seen for years, and when you got to their house, you found out that the parents had been keeping their children in their beds, away from the public eye, foryears.

What if you found out that they valued their children so little that they had never so much as brushed their teeth, so that their children’s mouths were evil-smelling pits containing dark gray bacteria, coated thickly with discolored yellowish rock?  Swollen, bleeding gums?  Sores on their tongues?

The reeking, horrific condition of their mouths made them so unpleasant as to become socially unacceptable.  Stripped of basic human dignity.

Pronouncing their children unlovable, then causing them to become unlovely by failing to love them.

......

Why is it not okay for parents to treat their children that way, but it is “understandable” for orphanage workers not to find the time in nearly ten years to brush a child’s teeth?? 

Susanna's original post can be found here. It is worth reading, and includes beautiful pictures of her daughter. If you have not yet checked out Susanna's blog, please do.  Katie's story is amazing.  And hers is not the only one.  Stories like hers are tragically commonplace in some countries.  Sometimes, they don't have such happy endings.  Most times.

That doesn't happen here.


Anyone can argue that there are isolated cases of severe abuse and neglect that go unchecked until they come to a tragic end.  These cases occur across the globe.  But the systematic institutionalization of nearly all a country's disabled children and adults, combined with the often brutal treatment they receive... That does not happen here.


And until no child lays her head down to sleep in an institution every night, until no bellies go unfilled because the precious little one was unable to take in the rapid flow of slop from her 'bottle'... under the care of what is supposed to be a government sponsored 'aid' program...

I will want to bring them home.


This little boy, 'Vanya', was, years ago, sent to one of these orphanages - and not a good one - and later an institution.  He was thrown away.  Discarded like trash.  Left to die.  His story is chronicled in a book called The Boy from Baby House 10.

'Vanya' is six years old here.  He is unable to walk and in the 'care' of a mental institution.

This precious boy, only a year younger than myself, has Cerebral Palsy.  Because of this, he was considered an 'imbecile' and 'uneducable'.  While he lived the life reflected in that picture, far away, in the United States, another little girl lived this life:

And why?  Because she was born half a world away.  Because she was born to a family who desperately wanted her, who would have taken her home and raised her no matter what challenges she faced.  Because she was born in a place where prosperity reined, and where there were systems in place to help those who found themselves in dire circumstances. 

How is that fair?  

'Vanya', was what we would consider 'lucky' for a child of his condition in his country.  He was adopted by an American family, brought home, given proper medical treatment, educated, and loved.  He became this boy, named John.

What potential!  Look at that handsome young man that was so misunderstood as a child as to be locked away like a prisoner!  Successful!  Coauthor of a book about his own life, his own struggles!  Doing what everyone said he couldn't do.  Because he was adopted and brought to a place where children with special needs are understood and cared for.  This place.  This country.  

So.  Why adoption?  Why international adoption?  Scroll back up and look at those photos again.  Look at precious Ksenia, and imagine the potential she could have if she were treated properly.  Look at the little girl (me, in case you haven't figured that out), smiling at her baby brother, while precious Vanya suffered in an institution.  Head on over to Reece's Rainbow and look at the faces of countless angels still living that life.  Why international adoption?

Because they're worth it.

A Heart for Adoption, Part II

In my previous post, I wrote of my grandparents, Anthony and Adeline, and their son, 'Little Tony'.  Incidentally, the day I began to write this post, January 16, happens to be my grandma Adeline's birthday.  Happy birthday, Grandma - and thank you for being one of the very first pieces to my puzzle.  Thank you for bringing my uncle Tony home and loving him, even though the doctors said he was 'defective', even though no one believed in him.  You did, and that changed more lives than I think you could have ever imagined at the time.

But all that happened long before adoption was even on my radar.  In fact, the next piece of the puzzle begins at that time as well, when I still planned a 'traditional' family.  In the beginning this story may seem to have little to do with my adoption story, but it concerns someone who is very dear to me, and I feel every bit of it is important, so please bear with me as we walk this path.

I was 13 years old when I started Confirmation class at my Methodist church.  Most children went through Confirmation in sixth grade, but I hadn't attended church regularly until late in 7th grade, so I went to Confirmation late.  As such, I often felt alienated by the other students, who were two years younger than me.  There was one person, though, who didn't make me feel that way, and her name was Angie, and little did I know then that she would become my best friend, and would teach me more about life, love, and hope than anyone I ever knew.

Angie and I were fast friends, as we both had a goofy sense of humor and a love for children.  After confirmation, we worked together in the church nursery, and in the summer teaching Vacation Bible School.  When I went to high school we started to drift apart, only for life to bring us back together two short years later.

I was sixteen, and a Junior in high school, when Angie was a freshman.  I was excited to finally go to the same school as her.  We would wave in the hallways, sometimes chat before class... then, sometime in November, I stopped seeing Angie around so much.  I went to writer's club after school one day, and I'll never ever forget the details of this day...  the girl who told me had blue hair.  We sat, with our desks in a circle, reading poems and deciding which ones would go into the school literary magazine.  We read one poem and then the girl with blue hair spoke up (for the life of me I don't remember what her name was, maybe I never knew).  She said "I just want to ask everybody to pray for Angie, she just got diagnosed with cancer".  I stopped.  I looked at her.  I said, "Angie?  Angie Sayers?  She has cancer?"  The girl with blue hair nodded.

My world stopped spinning.

In that moment, I was overcome with so many emotions.  Fear, at what this might mean.  Regret, that I had allowed us to drift apart.  Concern, for what my friend was going through.  Anger, for WHY, God, WHY would you do this to Angie of all people?  I had a friend in high school who used to punch walls when she was angry.  That day was the first time I understood that impulse.

I sat in the hallway and sobbed.  This couldn't be happening.  Cancer.  People die from cancer.  Sure, lots of people survive, certainly Angie would be okay, she was young, she was healthy!  But... cancer.  And what to do now?  We'd drifted apart - how could I call her and say "I know we haven't talked in a while, but hey, I heard you had cancer, what's up"?  I didn't want to be that person who just turned up again because something 'interesting' happened.  Instead, I was a person who realized that I had made a mistake by letting a dear friend drift away - and the harsh realities of cancer made it necessary for me to realize and rectify that mistake.  On Angie's birthday, while I was babysitting, I called her.  I hated calling people, it terrified me.  I didn't know what to say.  But I knew I couldn't *not* call her.  She told me that she was doing pretty well, that she had started chemo and had just started to lose her hair.  She told me that she would have an operation soon to amputate her right leg.  Later I would learn more about the type of cancer Angie had, and why it was so aggressive.

After that first hard phone conversation, I saw Angie at church a couple of times.  We made a video for her at Christmas, saying, if she couldn't come to church, we'd bring church to her.  I started attending a Bible Study and we invited Angie to come anytime she felt like it.  One night when we were in the church basement painting decorations for Vacation Bible School, Angie turned up with her friend Lauren, who I also knew from a while back.  That night I remember Angie making a joke about having one leg - I can't recall exactly what it was, something about socks or something - and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  It wasn't long before I would learn the answer - LAUGH.

Yes, laugh.  Even when it seemed there was nothing to laugh about.

Angie had osteosarcoma (and don't let that cute pinky purpley picture fool you, it's a nasty, nasty disease).  But it wasn't just that she had cancer, it was that her cancer was caused by a genetic defect called Li Fraumeni Syndrome.  The cancer and the syndrome combined created an aggressive situation which had necessitated the removal or her right leg, above the knee.  LFS meant that Angie lacked a gene that suppressed the growth of tumors - so now that she had cancer, she was even more at risk for relapse.  Nevertheless, in June 2005, Lauren and I triumphantly carried a banner stating "Happy Done Chemo-Ness" and a cake into the hospital.

Angie did relapse.  Many times.  But in between, we lived.  We attended Bible Study together every week.  If it was cancelled, or even cut short, we loved to go out for ice cream.  Sometimes after Bible Study, we'd go into Giant Eagle late at night for donuts, enjoying the use of the motorized carts (legitimately used... although I'm sure employees would've frowned on us hitchhiking rides on the back of them...).  We laughed, and loved, and made memories that would last forever.  Angie brought light to everyone who met her - even though we meant to be the ones who were strong for her.

After I graduated high school and was diagnosed with endometriosis (more about that in my next blog post... or the one after that?  Hey, I'm not writing these things, I'm just the one sitting behind the keyboard.  They write themselves...), Angie and I got to discussing more serious things.  Her LFS meant that if she were even able to have biological children after all the surgeries and chemo she went through, she would risk passing the gene on to them, which would increase their risk for cancer.  At a young age, an age at which the most serious decision most people face is whether to date the hot guy on the football team or the funny nerd in the chess club, she made the decision not to have biological children, but to adopt.  My best friend Angie had a heart to adopt.  And though life forced her to make that decision, she had always been, whether she knew it or not, the type of person who could have a heart to adopt - ever since those early years we bonded over providing childcare in the church nursery.

Earlier in my life, even through the first years of high school, I planned a 'traditional' family.  I just couldn't wait to get married, get pregnant and have children of my own.  (I now realize I have effectively scared off any single males who might have stumbled upon this blog... bye guys!)  Then at 18 years old I faced a diagnosis of a fertility disorder.  Suddenly I began to look at other options.  I decided I'd like to become a foster parent, maybe even adopt from foster care.  When Angie and I chatted, I began to mention my thought of adopting from foster care.  She had always wanted to adopt twin boys, so we developed an idealistic plan in which I would provide foster care, and then some day, when twin boys crossed my doorstep and needed adopting, I'd call her, or better, just walk over (as we wanted to live side by side and raise our kids together) and she could adopt them.  O for the naivety I held when we made those plans.  Nevertheless, we held onto hope.  Hope that she'd beat the cancer once and for all, and we could move on with our plans of adopting and raising our families together.

But just as our conversations got gradually more serious, so did Angie's condition.  By Summer 2010 the cancer had metastasized to her lungs, necessitating many surgeries and more chemo (through which we visited her in the hospital and did silly things like taking pictures of the bathroom and laughing about random gross medical stuff... many times we laughed, "only us")... and finally in August a tumor in Angie's left lung threatened her heart and required the removal of the entire lung.  I took off work the day before her surgery - a surgery which was incredibly risky, and we honestly all worried about whether she would make it through - and spent the day with her, swimming, eating snacks, talking about anything except the scary possibilities of the following day.


Angie made it through that surgery, and true to her spirit, she even attended classes at a local University that fall!  Realizing the seriousness of the situation we were in, we made even more of an effort than ever to spend time together - whether it was just sitting together and playing Sims, chatting on AIM, watching movies, playing games, going to the accessible playground... we made so many memories.  Then in November even worse news was handed down.  The cancer had returned, in her remaining lung - and it was inoperable.  An obscure drug that had worked in one other case similar to hers seemed to be the only hope.  It was expensive and difficult to obtain, but in the way that only God can, He opened doors for her to obtain that treatment.  Regardless, we were concerned that it was only a matter of time.  Her family went on what we referred to as a 'Grand Adventure', traveling across several states to see family and enjoy the sights.  I received postcards and souvenirs from places like Seattle and Hawaii.  And while Angie didn't want to know how much 'time' the doctors said she had left, I learned during that time that they'd given her 2-3 months from the day in November that they found the new lung tumors.  She was traveling for nearly all of December, so when she came home in January, we took every opportunity to spend time together.

Throughout the month of January, Angie started to get horrible migranes.  She tried for so long to grin and bear it, to pretend to be okay, because we were all afraid of what news would be handed down next... but the bad turned to worse and Angie went to the hospital in unbearable pain.  At that time they found multiple malignant tumors.  This time there was no mincing words.  The doctors said she would die within 2-3 weeks.

During this time, a number of people and organizations extended their kindness to Angie, and for this I will always be thankful.  One of her dreams, to have a book published, was realized on February 15, 2011, when Illuminations was released.  Another desire she'd had for a long time, to get a cat, finally happened in early March, while I was in the hospital having surgery.  We'd spend days and weekends off in those times just hanging out at Angie's house.  Sometimes her many medications made her doze off in the middle of a thought. That was okay - we dozed with her.

As we always used to say, even the best medical science couldn't predict the will of God, and Angie lived until July 15, 2011, when she finally went home, her pain finally gone for good.  






It has now been six months and two days that she's been gone.  What Angie left with me cannot be put into words.  She left me with the memory of her bright, sunny spirit, always looking for a positive way to spin things, always making the best out of the worst.  In the months before she died I made a sunshine ornament and hung it from the rearview mirror of my car, to remind me that Angie was always a reason to smile.  She left me with so many blissful memories of friends, fun, and innocence.  When I say I can't put it into words - and then I try - I find myself feeling woefully inept, because the words to describe what Angie left with me just don't exist.  She saved my life.  She picked me up on my darkest days, dusted me off, and made me smile - even when I was the one supposed to be supporting her.  The day she died, we found a letter on her computer, left for us in a true Angie nature.  I want to take an excerpt directly from that letter, for her words were always better than mine.

 I don’t want you to cry forever. I want you to turn around when you’re ready and seize life with all you’ve got. I want you to remember, if anything, for my sake, that life goes on and you’re a precious part of it. I take comfort in the fact that even though I’m gone, each of you are not, and that I will always continue to live in your memories and in your hearts, because I will never have truly left you.

Oh Angie.  Tears stain my cheeks again writing this.  No, you have not left me.  Not one bit.  Angie, you are in my heart.  My heart for adoption could not have been prepared if not for you.  I promise you now, as I promised you countless times up to the day before you died, I will live on.  And I'll do all the things we always said we'd do together.  It will hurt not to be able to reach out and touch you during those times, not to have your house for my kids to run over to and play, but they will know, I will know, that we have an angel... sitting up there, danging her legs off a cloud.

Dearest Angie, thank you, for instilling in me a surefire desire to adopt, for giving me somebody to talk to about it while everyone else was planning their 'traditional' families, for supporting me every single inch of the way.  Thank you, for still being in my heart - my heart for adoption.  Please ask God for me, and please peek down over the edge of that cloud, at the thousands of children waiting for adoption today, and hold them in your heart.  Please don't forget to check up on me... because someday I'll bring my children home, and I'll tell them all about the special best friend I had for nine precious years who helped prepare me to be their mama.

Your mark will never... fade away.

The Worst - and Best - Year of My Life.

2011... what to say, what to say!  Never in my life has a year been packed with so many life-changing events.  Seldom before has my view of the world, or my plan for myself shifted so drastically in such a short time.  Finally, never, in a year, have I experienced so much utter pain, on every level:  Physical, psychological, emotional.  And yet, a few days ago, in a room with some of my best friends in the world, I officially survived it!

A week or so ago, I was poised to write a post titled "Where I Was" - which was intended to explain the place I was in my life before everything changed for me.  I scrapped it, because it came out sounding like a laundry list of bad things that had happened to me.  But it's another important piece of the puzzle... because in order to understand where I am now - you must understand where I was then.  So, instead of attempting to recall the original post (which I failed to save), I would like to post this more as a 'year in review'.  I will warn you that it is long, as are most of my posts (I have a writer inside me struggling to get out!).  I have tried to shorten it several times but I feel like that cheapens it - takes away from the picture I'm trying to convey - so it remains as is.  Further, it has always been my desire to be completely honest through this blog (although some things will not be shared for privacy reasons) - I will not sugar-coat the truth here.  If you have time and so desire, read.  If you don't - that's just fine too.  As always, many more thoughts are floating around my head - blog posts for days to come - but this one, for today.  Without further adieu...

January
In January I began my second-to-last quarter of College with a heavy heart.  As excited as I was about graduating, my best friend Angie had recently been diagnosed as terminal with the cancer she'd been fighting for over  five years.  They gave her 2-3 months to live - in November.  I felt as though nothing I did, aside from spending time with her, mattered in the least.  My best friend was dying.  Any day, she could be gone.  How could I care about alternative fuel sources or historic Spanish literature at such a time?  In addition, I was dealing with chronic, debilitating physical pain of my own and scheduled surgery for my endometriosis for March 2.  The month found my Dear Borrowed Kids living in a hotel, then with me, then with their grandmother.  Then at the end of the month, the doctors found multiple tumors in Angie's brain.  They said 2-3 weeks.  It seemed like every situation in my life was worse than ever before.  The only light I had... were those special days I spent with my best friend, enjoying each other's company, laughing over nothing, while we still had time.

February
If you'd asked me in January, I could've scarcely believed that February could be worse... but it was.  The frustrations of January continued, and grew, and multiplied.  Late in the month, it became apparent that my beloved cat Buckeye, nearing 17 years old, whom I'd had since I was five years old, was not simply 'slowing down in his old age' - he was dying.  After what was essentially a heartwrenching emergency vet appointment on a Friday night, I was told he was in end stage renal failure.  I asked if he was in pain, through my sobs.  They told me that he could be, and that he was certainly uncomfortable.  We were given medications to make him more comfortable.  I didn't want euthenasia.  I never believed that it was the right of man to decide who lived or died - human or animal.  I took my baby home and spent the weekend with him... but by Sunday night, I knew.  It wasn't fair to put him through this anymore.  He was dying.  It was going to happen, and soon.  I held him close to me one last time on Sunday night, all night... I went to class and pretended to care... and then I came home and took pictures and snuggled him some more.  Then we went to the vet, and I watched them put my baby to sleep on February 28, 2011.  The liquid was orange.  I'll never forget a single detail about that day.  I took him home, wrapped him in one of my favorite sweatshirts, and buried my precious Buckeye.

In Memoriam

Doing his favorite thing... exploring the great outdoors.

And yet, through all this, guess who continued to hang on?  Guess who was there for me as I cried the night I buried my kitty?  My best friend Angie, of course.  Facing a terminal diagnosis herself, she never once passed up an opportunity to help a friend.  By the grace of God, we made memories that month, memories that I will never, ever forget.

March

March just did not start off on the right foot.  Having just lost my lifetime feline companion, my heart was shattered. I was heading into surgery not knowing whether or not my best friend would still be alive when I came home.  I was scared, to put it mildly.  The night before my surgery, Angie and I were visiting an animal rescue - she and I were both intending to adopt kittens - and a stupid, silly little misunderstanding sent me into the hysterical sobs I'd been holding back for 24 hours.  Once again - guess who was there to give me a hug, and tell me she was there for me?  Oh, Angie, how much you did for everyone else, even as your own time drew to a close.  

Then my surgery went bad.  Two more surgeries, one of which was markedly more invasive than those prior, had to be performed simply to keep me alive.  I was bleeding internally and my blood pressure had dropped to a dangerous level.  I had to receive a blood transfusion while in surgery.  All I remember is signing the consent form, and hearing them yell things like "Clear the OR" and "We need to get her some blood"... and looking up at my doctor as they were putting me under and croaking "Save me."  I was so scared.  There are large blocks of time about which I remember nothing at all.  A simple outpatient procedure, turned so bad.  I spent a week in the hospital.  There were fears of infection and other complications.  I was miserable - and I wasn't home where I could spend time with Angie while I still could.  I could barely text her with all the medication constantly dripping into my IV.  My texts came out garbled and hard to read.  I didn't want her to visit because it could make her sick.  Things didn't get much better when I went home.  I was in a lot of pain for a long time.  I had to take an incomplete on all my winter classes.  As if all of this wasn't enough, things went bad with my two younger Dear Borrowed Kids, causing them to be abruptly withdrawn from my life - and loving them as though they were my own, this was a blow.  

The end of March, however, found things looking up.  My dear Angie was still fighting the good fight, we'd both adopted precious kittens.  I had high hopes for things to come.  

Introducing Boo, the adorable kitten.

April

Being my birth month, I had high hopes for this one, despite still reeling from the effects of a terrible March.  The falling-out with the family of my two younger DBKs was hard, but I felt differently about it than I'd expected.  I felt as though I'd made a choice that was in all of our best interests, and that the current situation was only temporary - so I was at peace.  I was in the process of seeking an internship to complete my BA in Public Health, and hoping for something I'd really enjoy.  As it so happened, I landed an absolutely perfect internship with the injury prevention department at the local health department, with whom I'd been volunteering at car seat checks for years.  A few weeks into the internship, they offered to pay me - well.  A couple weeks later, they told me they wanted to hire me when I graduated.  It was like a dream come true!  I never could have imagined things working out so well.  Best of all, the end of the month came, and Angie and I were still playing games and laughing together, just like always.  Even the best of the medical community cannot predict the will of God.  

May

Like April, May brought good news.  It certainly wasn't without its difficulties, but it was overall positive.   I went to a fabulous conference both for my job/internship and for myself, in the process seeing a dear friend whom I hadn't seen in nearly a year, and in the same breath the parents of my missing DBKs called seeking to mend fences.  I spent 30+ hours a week doing a job I loved, and my free time with the people I loved.  Toward the end of the month, Angie started gearing up for her final Relay for Life - and we couldn't wait to cheer her on.  She was getting sicker... but still smiling, still blessing us just by being her radiant self.  May was good.

June

In June, the hard times started to come back.  I was driving a car nearly as old as I was, and while I was thankful for it, I knew its days were coming to an end.  It needed repairs I couldn't afford, and I didn't see any point in trying to afford them when I'd just be in the same place in a few months anyways.  Finally, the brakes completely gave out and I made the decision to sell it and buy a new car.  It was a little earlier than I'd hoped (I'd hoped to buy a car after graduation - Clyde (that was the car's name) apparently was a couple weeks off on that timetable), but it was what I wanted and what I felt was right for me and for the precious little ones I needed to transport safely!  Have you ever watched the crash test for a 1990 model year vehicle?  No?  Okay, don't.  Especially not if you drive one.  Only by the grace of God was I saved - when I hit the brakes and they failed, I stopped literally inches from the bumper of the car in front of me.  I puttered off to a safe place to call AAA.  I could've hit that car in front of me... and become that crash test.

Well, finding a new car wasn't as easy as I'd hoped.  I'd done extensive research into it over the past years, anticipating a post-graduation purchase and I was ready to go - but not only did I hit a snag, the situation kicked up some pretty devastating family drama.  All this came to a point just as I was driving home from Relay for Life - watching my dear best friend make her final 'Survivor's Lap'.  I was left feeling heartbroken, alone and as though no one had faith in me.  What should have been a happy time of my graduation was instead painful.  

Finally, towards the very end of the month, I was able to get a new car, with the help of my mom, who has been my rock throughout my entire life.  I was excited and things seemed to be looking up heading into July.

July

There are no words for July.  Loss.  Heartbreak.  Pain.  Sadness.  Mourning.  None of these even begin to cover what we all felt when dear Angie died on July 15, 2011.  No matter how hard I might try, I'll never forget the days leading up to that day... just... indescribable.  Angie would've blushed and told me to stop flattering her, but she was my hero - not because she had cancer, but because she had cancer and she didn't let it stop her.  Sure, she had her down moments, everyone does, but she just kept on going.  She told me once "I didn't really have any other choice".  Oh, dear Angie, how many times I've said those same words.  My wonderful best friend is deserving of a blog post of her own, but that is for later.  For now... a photo of the two of us:

I miss you every day, dear Angie.  You are a huge part of who I've become.

August

They say "When it rains, it pours".  This statement, I've found to be so true.  August began with the struggles of July, then more struggles with my two younger DBKs.  August delivered some bad medical news for me, which got me quite down for a while.  My hours as a temporary employee at the job I loved were running out and the future of my employment still not cemented.  Finally, at the end of the month, tensions which had been rising for a long time between myself and the family of my two younger DBKs came to a head, resulting in me losing them again.  Further, my physical pain was slowly but steadily coming back, and I was wondering why, if I'd been through all this surgery just months earlier, was I in pain again?  The end of the month came only with uncertainty.

September

This was a month which I spent largely at home, alone, which in retrospect was very bad for me.  My heart was broken again by more bad medical news, even as it lay shattered with the loss of my best friend and pain for my DBKs.  I worked periodically, rationing my last few hours, waiting for the day I could finally come back to work for good.  Finances started to become difficult, but I chose not to get another job, because I was certain I'd be returning to my 'real' job soon.  My physical pain had nearly reached pre-surgery levels and I started to look into other medical options, not excluding further surgery.  More than anything, I was lonely.  I spent so much of my time alone that even periodic gatherings of friends or family did little to ease the pain once I went back home.  September ended with even more uncertainty than August.

October

I knew all along that October would be hard, I just didn't know how hard.  You see, since my little DBK, A, was two years old, she has trick-or-treated with me.  This year, I knew we wouldn't be together.  It stung.  My work hours completely ran out and pay essentially stopped but for a trickle of mileage checks.  Still, I chose not to get another job, because surely I'd just have to quit in a couple of weeks anyways.  October went the way of September.

November

Though not the month I hit rock bottom, November was a steady downward slide.  I don't kid you when I say I'm lucky to have made it through alive.  Pain levels were back to where they were before my March surgery, sometimes even as bad as the post-op pain.  I was dependent on medication to even get through a day.  I was depressed and heartbroken over the state of my life.  My wonderful friends had noticed the change in me before I had and expressed concern, unfortunately leading to a turn of events which put us at odds and left me feeling even more alone than ever.  My work hours and income were gone, but I'd finally interviewed for my position about a week and a half before Thanksgiving, so I felt that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, I'd at least be back to work and out of the house soon.  However, the end of November came too soon, with the same uncertainty as the months before it - still no job, still no money, and now behind on bills and planning to schedule another surgery.  It felt bleaker than bleak.

December

What can I say?  December 2011.  Probably the most transformative month of my life.  Here is where this post gets divided into two parts - a 'before,' and an 'after'.  

December did not come quietly into my life.  On the very first day, it came with confirmation that I would have surgery - a good thing for my pain, but still scary, particularly at that time, having become more real and concrete in my mind.  In the same day, I learned that I'd been passed over for the job I thought was mine since April.  As it turns out, the effects of this economy are further reaching than any of us could have imagined, and circumstances precluded my superiors from being able to hire me.  Some of them, I think, were hurt for me as I was for myself.  I also think they were wrong - I do think I was the best person for that job - but who am I to decide right and wrong?  Ultimately, I feel there was a reason for the way things happened... but at the time, it was a devastating and heartbreaking blow to the very essence of who I am, not to mention further complicating financial matters just before Christmas, when I'd had such high hopes for making a wonderful Christmas for my family this year.  Further, it would be my first Christmas in six years without my little A - and the only Christmas season without AJ since he'd been born.  I was not feeling the spirit of the season, and my faith was more than shaken.  

But good things were slowly starting to happen.  A little at a time, I began mending fences with the friends I'd fought with in the previous months.  I felt as though there was a light at the end of the tunnel with regards to the everyday pain I was experiencing.  I started taking a more active role in making myself happy.  I was starting to heal, but I was still lower than low.  I felt as though everything I'd worked toward thus far, every thing I lived for, was gone.  What to do now?  I had a heart to help... and I'd tried and tried and it seemed like I'd failed.  

This, my friends, all that you have read up until this point, is the 'before'.

Here is the 'after'.

On December 3, 2011, just two days after the devastating news about my job, I saw this picture:  

From http://theblessingofverity.com/ with permission.

Now, if you've not read my blog up until this post, or are not part of the adoption community, you may wonder why on earth a picture of a child in a car seat could turn a 'before' into an 'after'.  Friends, let me tell you why.  That child in the car seat, her name is Katie, and she is nine years old.  She was adopted internationally, so malnourished that she weighed only 10 lbs.  What happened from then on is chronicled in my very first blog post, here.  There were nine days between laying my eyes on this precious child, and hearing God loud and clear in my own life.  Through every single one of those days, I could not get that precious girl - and so many others like her - off my mind, or out of my heart.  Not that I wanted to.  

Friends, I can't begin to tell you how the end of December left me.  Yes, I had surgery again.  More tears were shed.  More pain was had.  More uncertainties were faced.  More frustrations were voiced.  But everything - and I mean everything - had been put into a whole new frame. Where I felt no purpose before, I felt renewed energy and a call from Above that was impossible to ignore.  Every single one of those things that happened this year, and the one before it, and the one before that, on, and on, and on, had been preparing me for something - and doing a good job of it!  (This is a bit I will elaborate on later).  Where my faith was weak before, now it was strong.  Where my joy was small before, it was now huge.  Where my hope dwindled previously, it soared now.  God was using me to do His work - and He knew me only too well - to know just how willing I'd be to do this 'work'.  Purpose.  It was everything.

I will say that my initial reaction to what I saw was an emotional one - akin to when I was a little girl and wanted to give a home to every stray cat.  This is the truth.  But remember, nine days passed between the day I saw that photo, and the day I made the decision to say Yes to God's call.  Over those nine days, I thought of little else.  I read, I learned, I prayed, I researched endlessly, I still do.  The day I started this blog, my words were driven not by a temporary emotion, but by honest, informed determination; and so it has been ever since.  

I am not naive about things to come.  I know the reality.  In one short month I've read and learned so much, watched events unfold.  The road to the place I am today was not an easy one, it was rough and marred by obstacles, one after another.  I expect no less of the road ahead - and I welcome it, because I know, the rewards are great.  Because I know, this is right - and because I have Heaven on my side.  I thought I knew what I was doing, where I was going, and I thought I'd failed, but the truth lies in a quote from one of my favorite movies:  "Maybe God... has a bigger plan for me... than I had for myself."  ~ A Walk To Remember

So, there it was.  2011.  What, for all intents and purposes, should have been the worst year of my life - but for redemption in the Christmas season.  I can't say I'm sorry to bid it farewell, but what I can say, is that I'm excited to see what 2012 brings... and the year after that, and the one after that, and the one after that... on, and on, and on.