Category Archives: Community

{Podcast} She Had to Break

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Last Saturday I attended the Holy Spirit retreat at my church. I went into this retreat with zero expectations and walked out of the retreat with a group of women that I now call my friends. Somewhere between the teaching and the discussion I felt moved, moved to create a podcast. God put me through struggle so that I could one day use those struggles as a testimony of his love. I’m our moments of darkness God does not leave us, he digs in deeper than ever and guides his children to the light. The struggle is where our purpose is birthed and where new life is breathed into our tired bodies. The struggle gives us Strength and it allows us to stand tall in our faith. Without the seasons of struggle, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today.

Over the years I have let people in and shared my testimony. Somehow someway my words were what they needed to hear and little by little they too were able to stand tall in their faith. I am so grateful that my story has helped others and it will continue to help others so long as I have the breath to say the words, I will raise them up to my King and help others to stand tall in their faith.

So come along with me as I share my story, my story of breaking, healing, and shining each week.

{Road Trip} HOME

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For as long as I can remember I was told “you are the descendants of Voyagers and Indians.” A pedigree anyone would be proud of. The stories I was told were validated in my sixth grade Minnesota History class and again in college. My family, my amazing courageous family had a hand in shaping the Minnesota that we all know and love. This, this place that I love has always been my home. My roots are forever tied to this land. I am Minnesota and she is me.

For years I have heard about the Clement H. Beaulieu house in Crow Wing State Park. The park is a little over two hours from minneapolis, practically in my backyard, but I never felt the need to venture. I am a firm believer that we are drawn to locations and when it’s our time to go, we go there. This day was 35 and 66 years in the making, it was time for us to go HOME.

As far as weather goes, today was a beautiful sunny calm Minnesota Saturday. A day meant for exploring. Only I could get lost in a state park. If the arrow is pointing left, I will turn right and then wonder why I’m doing a U turn. Only me. Anyways, with a little rerouting we found the parking area for the “Crow Wing Main Street” trail, parked and headed on down the path. My Dad is one of those types who likes to stop and read all of the signs, so I trudged ahead of him and waited. He caught up to me as I spied the roof line through the trees a huge gust of wind came up and my Dad looked at me and said “He knows we are here!”

We reached the over look and began to read the plaques. I will admit it’s kind of weird seeing your last name in print and tied to the historic building in front of you. This house is simple by today’s standards, however back in its day the home was a bustling hub of hospitality and business. Clement a “half breed” was sent from Wisconsin to develop the fur trade in Minnesota. He was a well respected man who had great success. His home over looked the river and Crow Wing village.

I circled the house many times in an effort to engrave all of its details into my brain. Faced pressed to the glass I tried imaging what the inside looked like in Clements day. The interior of today is a far cry from what it looked like in the late 1800s. This house if it could talk, would have an incredible story to tell. Stories of love and loss, business deals, parties, family, and of the community that once surrounded it. My dad and I soaked it all in. This place was our place, this this home is where our story began.

Clement lived in this home until he moved to White Earth in 1873. White Earth, a place that I know of so well, but never visited. This reservation is where my Grandfather’s tale began. My Grandfather was a product of the assimilation and relocation of the American Indian. The government calls the program a success, I call it a failure. Ripping children form their parents, their language, their culture, and their religion does more harm than good. My Grandfather was taken form the White Earth when he was five years old and he never returned. Today, my Dad and I were the first ones from our branch of the family to return HOME.

Our name is present on the Reservation. There is a Street named after us and a township too. My goal wasn’t to visit the township, but to find the graves of my ancestors. Find A Grave . Com told me that Clement was buried in Calvary Cemetery. Which is a small cemetery nestled on top of a hill surrounded by soy bean fields. It was simply beautiful. As we pulled in I noticed a plot with a large fence around it and figured that had to be our family’s plot. I went to the fenced in area and my dad wandered to the very back of the cemetery.

The gate gave me some trouble, but I was determined and eventually I won. AJ 1, Gate 0. As I walked through the gate a strong swirling wind came up and I was home, my ancestors were acknowledging me, their lost family who returned HOME. I traced my fingers across their names as I read them aloud to the wind and laid tobacco down. I can honestly say I have never seen my last name on so many stones at once. Heck I’ve only ever seen it on one stone and that is my Grandfather’s.

I looked up to see my dad waving his arm and the wind carried his shouts, so I bid them goodbye, wrestled with the gate again, and walked to the back of the cemetery. He had found more of our family. Two graves nestled along the fence line. I laid tobacco down and moved through the cemetery along side my Dad. We made our way back to the more populated area and found five more sets of graves. I started to notice a few stones for babies. When I traced my hand across their names, I no longer felt alone, for my ancestors know the heart ache of child loss too. Our babies no matter how much time has passed, will always be ours.

My Dad and I got back in the car and on our way out of the cemetery I looked up to see an Eagle soaring over the soy bean field. Our visit had been acknowledge and our ancestors were happy to have us home. From the cemetery we drove to the town of White Earth. As we drove around I said to my dad “just think your Dad could have fished in that pound or played in that field!? It’s beautiful here, he got ripped from beauty and dropped in an orphanage that lead to a farm.” My dad said “Yeah,” as he looked out the window. He had done what his Dad never did, he went home for him. We went HOME for Clifford, a child of the White Earth who was once lost, but now is found.

This trip meant the world to me. It was simple yet profound and I am grateful to have had my dad along for the ride. This trip was for him as I know he has always wondered where his Dad came from and today he found his HOME.

{Hearts On 22} Rally For Research

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Somewhere in this country a woman is experiencing the worst day of her life. She is in pain, she is scared, and she will never be the same. In the coming days, weeks, and months she will learn that her birth control was the cause of her worst day. That her birth control caused her stroke or heart attack or blood clot or pulmonary embolism. She knows it was her birth control because she survived. Many families never learn why their wife, mother, daughter, sister or friend suddenly died. They live their lives only knowing that she is simply gone.

Gone. If it were not for my fast acting care team, I would be resting in a little urn on a shelf. My mom literally came this close (shows fingers) to picking out my urn instead of my 27th Halloween themed birthday cake. I was lucky, I was the 1 out of 5 who survived a massive pulmonary embolism with infarction that lead to a stroke. Because of research I saw my 27th themed Halloween birthday cake, it had a jack o lantern on it and it was perfect. I survived my worst day possible.

I was weak, I felt cheated, and I was angry that my life was gone. I had to learn how to live in a new normal of Lovenox injections, INR draws, warfarin sodium, to many pills to count, doctors appointments and CT scans. I wasn't living the life of a 27 year old, I was living the life of someone much much older. Yet it was my life to live and I had one choice: "survive or give in." I chose to survive.

Survival is not perfect. This second chance I live is pretty fucking messy and hella awesome at the same time. I put on a red dress and never looked back. The American Heart Association gave me a platform to share my story, they put the voice back into the survivor and Now my story is saving lives. I meet women who come up to me and say I heard your story and I decided to talk to my doctor about my risks and what birth control is safe for me. That right there makes my little heart sing. I can't go back and change my story, but I can share mine to change someone else's story.

We know that my massive pulmonary embolism with infraction and stroke were caused by my hormonal contraceptive, but we don't know why. At the time I was healthy, I did not smoke, I wasn't over the age of 35, I wasn't over weight, yet it happened. Further testing showed that I was negative for Factor V along with a whole host of other genetic conditions that lead to clothing. I was genetically perfect, yet some how some way it happened to me.

If scientist can figure out why it happened to someone it shouldn't statistically happen to, we can stop it from happening in other women. In order to find that why, we need funds for research. The government is the largest financial contributor for medical research and if those funds get scraped my why goes out the window. The ability to save thousands upon thousands of lives goes up in smoke. You and I we can make a difference, reach out to your congressman & women and tell them that you support the funding of medical research. Come to the MN capital on Saturday @ 1:00PM central time and stand with us as we rally for medical research. Bring a poster, yell at the top of your lungs and make a difference, help us secure our healthy tomorrows.

Mostly let's face it, without research we are dead in the water, our doctors are only as good as the researchers who stand behind them and without them we have nothing.

{Go Red} For Women’s Health 

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The  Go Red campaign focuses on women’s heart health which is the number one killer of women. I suffered a stroke, a stroke that came after my pulmonary embolism was discovered. Sure a blood clot is not a cardiac event, but it still is an event. An event that only 1 out of 5 survive.

If you ask me those odds are shitty. Fuck only one out of five people who have a P.E. will survive. That statistic is one I cannot escape and it haunts me to this day. I am the ONE out of FIVE. I’ve lived seven borrowed years on this earth and I’ve done my best to make every second count. I cannot undo the events of October 2009, I can only move past them. 

Five days before my 27th birthday I drove myself to the ER. My chest felt like it was being split open and I could barely breathe. I collapsed as soon as I got inside and woke up to a nurse telling me “well you are not having a heart attack and you can either help me take your clothes off or I can cut them off.” I opted to help. I was confused and gasping for air. Every breath I took ripped through my body. I’ve never been in labor but I imagine the pain I was feeling is on that level. The ER doctor told me that my oxygen level was below 50% and he was leaning towards an infection in my lungs. He was going to run some tests. As he headed toward the door he stopped and asked “are you on a birth control?” 

I uttered yes and he explained about the d-dimer test and that it checked for possible blood clots. He was certain it wasn’t that, he just wanted to check to be sure. The lab came in and took my blood. It would be a bit before the results came back. As I was being taken to x-ray the Doctor stopped us and stated “put her back in her room she doesn’t need an x-ray.” I thought this meant it wasn’t serious and I was on my way home. He calmly explained “the d-dimer came back positive. We need to do a CT scan to look at your chest to check for any blood clots. The contrast dye if you are allergic to it it could kill you. But it’s your best option.” 

I looked at him and said “I might die either way right?” And signed my name to the consent form. The Radiology Tech said it would take about an hour for the results to come back. I waited and listened to the clock tick the minutes away. Thirty minutes went by, I heard a phone ring and the doors voice in the hall. I only made out “shit! You have to be kidding me!” Followed by a page for extra staff to the ER. Then I heard foot steps, lots of them running towards my little room. The doctor popped in and explained “you have a pulmonary embolis.” I stared at him blankly and he explained “you have a blood clot the size of a ten cent gumball blocking the valve from your left lung to your heart. Blood and oxygen can’t get through.” 

Those words were a lot to process. In that moment I did not fully comprehend the shit I was in and how bad it was. He explained I needed blood thinners and that I would be in the hospital for a while. He stepped out for a moment to put in RX orders. And that is when I lost my words. My body felt strange, it felt like I was sinking and I couldn’t get my words out. The heart monitor started beeping and everyone was frantically moving around. My blood pressure was well above 200 and I was fading. Clot busters, TPA to be exact were ordered and given, my stroke was stopped right in it’s tracks and my life was spared. I live with the knowledge that I almost died 5 days before my birthday.

I became accustomed to my new life. A life of blood thinners, scans, diet change, and never ending doctors appointments. I was angry and bitter. I wanted to put a why behind the how. I wanted to know why this happened to me and how I could prevent others from enduring my fate. To this day the answer is still hard to swallow. 

Truth: my pulmonary embolism and stroke were 100% preventable. The blood clot was caused by the progesterone in the Nuvaring, my birth control. One week before this occurred I had my annual check up and I told my doctor that I was feeling unusually tired, had redness and warmth on my upper leg. She ignored my symptoms and told me “oh just go home drink some water and walk more.” Since she didn’t think anything of it, I didn’t either. Boy was I wrong. I now know I had all of the classic signs of a potential blood clot and that a simple d-dimer test could have caught the clot before it reached my lung and brain. My whole ordeal could have been prevented if only my doctor had truly listened to me that day. 

I go Red for women’s health. All of us need to realize that we know our bodies better than anyone. We know when something isn’t right and we need to listen to our guts. It’s time we put our health first and push for the answers that we need. Our symptoms are and will always be different from men, because hello we are not men. It breaks my heart to know that young women are often dismissed. We shouldn’t be, blood clots, heart disease and stroke do not know age and they can occur at anytime. Love yourself! Make a doctors appointment and make sure you are being heard. If one doctor won’t listen keep on pressing until you find someone who does. You only have one life, one heart, and you deserve the very best. 

Don’t be like AJ, she didn’t push for answers and almost died 5 days before her 27th birthday. 

{Lucia & Baby E} Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month 

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October is many things. For me it’s my birthday month and more importantly it’s where my second story began. I get lost in the details, counting days, writing posts, and reflecting on the year before me. No one ever said survivorhood would be easy. No one ever said “not all babies get to come home.” 

That is something we keep from little girls. We never tell them that not all babies come home and that not all women get to be mommies. That some women have to fight harder for motherhood than others. We keep the darkness out of their eyes and fill them with hope, hope that one day they will hold a baby of their own. 

For me I wish someone had told me “not all babies come home.” That would have prepared me for the worst. We know it’s possible, but our hearts never wonder to that place of “what if.” Instead we live in the land of preparation and anticipation. You get so wrapped up in that land, that when you hear six little words they cut through you like a knife. No woman wants to hear “I’m sorry there is no heart beat.” Those words are a sentence to a life time of wonder and what ifs.

You are left wondering “could I have done it differently?” Followed by why me. You struggle with your faith and become jealous of the swelling bumps around you. Yet somewhere along the way you realize “you never get over the death of a child, you just learn how to live with it.” It’s been six years since I’ve said goodbye to Lucia and I can tell you that a day does not go by where I do not think of him. The same goes for Baby E. A piece of me will always be in heaven and I have to live the best possible life, because they never got a chance to live theirs.

After you lose a child life goes on. People will tell you “oh you will have another one.” Those words are spoken easier than done. No one ever tells you that “some women struggle.” I fall into the category. I am struggling to catch my rainbow. In the quiet of the night I pray that my turn will come. Fertility clinics are expensive, yet our reward will be worth it. I have faith that my third time and Jay’s second will be the one that sticks. I want so very much to bring a baby home, to hold them, and love on them for the rest of their lives. 

For my heart knows what it’s like to let go and she is ready, she is ready for a baby that can stay. 

{Weight Watchers} Thinking Outside of the Grocery Store

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I spend my bus ride to and from work scrolling through the Weight Watchers Connect feature. People post about their struggles, their triumphs, and mostly their relationship with food. On how they would eat their feelings and stressors. Some admit that eating brings them the pleasure that their lives are lacking. One woman said “a pint of ice cream never gave me a nasty stare.” Some ate out of boredum. In their words it dawned on me that so many Americans have a terrible relationship with food. For many it stems from their up brining and using food to cope. 

I’d like to believe that our eating habits reflect our up brining and life style. For me food was always available. My parents were eating organic before organic was a buzz word that graced grocery shelves. Every fall my parents would get a hog from Huttles in Lake city and vegetables/fruit from a meat locker in Downsville. It was a big day when the call came the our bacon and ham was ready for pick up. We had two chest freezers, you know the big ones that you can hide a body in. One was filled with pork and the other fruit,  vegetables, and ice cream. As my parents loaded the freezers I would play in the empty boxes while begging “can we have tater tots!?” 

My parents made sure that my tiny hands touched the soil. A good part of my childhood was spent tending to our small orchard and the fruit trees at our house in town. My dad taught me how to plant, trim and care for our trees. In the fall the picked apples and pears went to Ms. Dorothy. When I think of Ms. Dorothy I think of summer afternoons picking cucumbers, tomatoes, and preparing dill bundles for drying. Ms. Dorothy is the reason I have an obsession with mason jars. She taught me how to can vegetables and fruit, to make jam, apple sauce, and soup. Ms. Dorothy and my parents brought the farm to my childhood table. 

As a child the grocery store wasn’t fun, the only thing my Mama bought was milk, bread, juice, Shasta, and cereal. I would try and sneak canned ravioli and pasta into her cart, she always caught me, took it out and said “no.” I would get so mad because all of my friends were eating canned food and boxed Mac & Cheese, I wanted to eat like they did. It didn’t matter how much I whined, I never got it. Mainly this was for my own health. 

Back in the 80’s food labels held little to no valuable information.  Canned and boxed prepared foods were loaded with salt. Sodium was the enemy in our house, my kidneys couldn’t handle it and my body was still healing from bladder reconstruction surgery. At one time all I could keep down was yogurt and jello. Trust me I have eaten more jello and yogart, than one soul can handle. Fish was a staple, until an eye ball appeared in my fish sandwich. Vegetables, I have a non existent relationship with vegetables. If it’s a root vegetable I will eat it, but you will not see me sit down to a salad. Salads are for rabbits, not humans. My Mama often made two meals, one family and a separate bland meal for me. 

Even when I was given a clean bill of health, we still stuck to the low sodium no processed food regime. In college I was finally away from my parents and you guessed it I bought canned ravioli……. they were disgusting, same with boxed Mac & Cheese. I have never eaten Ramen or a Twinki, I am probably the only American who has achieved this feat. Over the years I have gained and lost weight. My weight gain was not due to my eating habits, but my lack of activity and the medications I was taking. Add in two pregnancies…. then you get the picture. 

The fore mentioned is what brought me to Weight Watchers. Over the past month I have been asking myself “do you eat for comfort? Do you eat because you are bored?” The answer to both  questions is no. For me food is nourishment and not comfort. Don’t get me wrong I love me some comfort food! Many ladies eat because they are stressed or emotional. When I am stressed food is the last thing I want. I rather take a nap or veg out on the couch. If I’m emotional, I want to nap with my dog, not food.

Food doesn’t define me, I define it. My farm to table upbringing has a huge impact on my relationship with food and choices. I stray away from microwave meals, canned goods, Tyson products, and artificial flavorings/sweeteners. Sure I look at pop tarts and granola bars longingly, but I know they are not good for me. Cupcakes and I well let’s just say I can’t have just one, so I don’t even bother to bring them home. Same goes for cookies, cookies stay on the shelf. For me it’s knowing what triggers a slippery slope down fall. Those triggers stay at the store, where they belong. 

It takes a lot of strength and will power to pass up the bakery department and center isles of the store. All of the good stuff lies on the edges. Even better the freshest food lives at your local farmers market or butcher. Don’t be defined by your grocery store, think outside of the store and buy from your local farmers. 

{Go Red} Hearts For Fashion Show

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Fashion
Every February Boston Scientific sponsors the Hearts for Fashion show as apart of the Go Red for Women expo at the Mall of America. The show allows survivors to strut their stuff down the Go Red for Women runway, all while putting a face to heart disease and stroke. Survivors are not the only ones strutting their stuff, the designs of local students who were inspired by heart health, survivors and the color red will also line the runway. This event allows the American Heart Association’s Go Red for Women campaign to educate the public about women’s heart health through fashion. What girl doesn’t love fashion, I know I do.

Last year I was invited to be apart of the Go Red for Women campaign which included posing for a billboard, gracing many bus stops around the metro, and being a part of a PSA commercial that was aired on channel 9 through out the month of February. I am not use to being in front of the camera, I am the quiet type that walks the capital halls, so it was a big change for me and I am glad that I did it.

This year I was invited to walk the runway in the Hearts for Fashion show. I have watched the show for many years and always thought it would be fun to be a model in the show. When the offer came I gladly accepted and waited for the day to arrive. My outfit was on loan from Macy’s Mall of America and Ginny did a great job at dressing me. I was a little bummed that I did not get to wear a red dress in the show, but its ok I got to rock a modern suit instead.

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I had to be at MOA by 8AM for makeup and hair. Our makeup and hair was done by the Minnesota School of Cosmetology students. The girls did a really great job with my updo and makeup, they made me feel like me but better. With hair and makeup in the bag it was time to get dressed. Jay was in charge of collecting my parents and bringing them to MOA for the show. Jay was successful and soon they arrived and Jay’s eyes lit up when he saw me all done up. That’s how I knew the girls did good. A ton of photos were taken and soon we were released to go down and watch part of the show.

I didn’t practice my walk. Being in heels made me nervous, I just said a little prayer and hoped for the best. Lucky for me I didn’t trip!!! That is a miracle in itself and I took on that runway like I was made for it! Yay! Go Me! That is until I looked over and saw my Daddy and Jay plus my Mama all teary eyed. It took everything in me to hold it together, if I see tears I start to tear up, so it was a miracle that i didn’t start crying too. Now Sherri she was the only one holding it together like a boss. Survival is more than the survivor, without my parents and Sherri who knows where I would be, they have been with me since day one of survivor-hood.

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Being in the fashion show was a lot of fun and I know Jay had a blast pulling all of the bobbi pins out of my hair. I think he pulled out close to 30 or so, it takes a lot of pins to tack my curly mop down.

{Go Red For Women} “I Lived” is why I Go Red 

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“I Lived” is why I Go Red. Survivorhood is a beautiful disaster. There is no guidebook or follow the dots for survivorhood, each woman has to lay the bricks for her second chance. There are moments where I wish someone would hand me a guidebook and to show me “this is how you do it.” But then I think to myself, “on October 22, 2009 you were given a blank book and only you know how to write your second story.” 

 Make a difference. Amongst all of the fear and unknown I stopped to ask “how many other women has this happened too?” In one moment of disaster my passion was born. I wanted to make sure that no other woman endured my fate, I wanted to make a difference and raise awareness about the side affects of hormonal contraceptives. 

1 out of 3 women will die from heart disease and stroke. 1 out of 5 people will survive a pulmonary embolism. Those odds are not in our favor. So many women have no idea that their birth control puts them at a higher risk for blood clots, stroke, and heart attack. When we look at these odds one most stop and ask “are they preventable?” The answer is simply, yes they are. 

Education starts with you and me, together we can help medical professionals learn the signs and symptoms of blood clots. They do not live in our bodies, we do and we know our hearts like no buddy else does. It still bothers me to this day, that it could have all been prevented. I could have skipped the pain and avoided the aftermath. That if my doctor had listened to my symptoms, she could have ordered the d-dimer test and the clot would have been stopped before it hit my lungs and eventually my brain. I have to live the rest of my life knowing that this didn’t have to happen. 

But it did. A beautiful disaster the ignited my passion and gave me purpose. I got a second chance to live this life. I am blessed, I am amazed, and sometimes I feel like I am living someone else’s dream. It’s mine, every pothole, pitstop, and curveball are mine. In the moments of disaster I found myself. I found the strength to continue dancing on the good days and laughing on the bad. I cherish each moment, for I know I am living on borrowed time. I’ve stolen almost seven years from the sandman and I pray that I will steal a few dozen more. 

From billboards, to bus stop posters, to PSAs and beyond. Six years ago I had no idea that my story would have so much value and impact on the people around me. State lobby days allow me to make a difference and national lobby days allow me to take a stand. With tears in my eyes I stood on the U.S. Capital Steps right next to Nancy Pelosi, giving a speech on the impact and importance of the Affordable Care Act. You’re the Cure has given me a platform to make a difference and for that I am forever grateful. 

  

Time. Be it given or borrowed I do not take it for granted. I survived the worst day possible. I lived. I’ve squished a lot of life into the past 6 years. I got a divorce, adopted a dog, found a job that I love, mostly amongst it all I found myself.  I became a mom, Lucia and baby E rest in God’s heavenly arms. I spent time with my father, wine tasting and thrift stores are our jam. My mama and I spent time in the dells, shopping and lunching. Those two, they are my rock. 

Our family grew, I watched my sister become a mom, Sophia and I are bonded for life. I got to paint Sophia’s toes and take her to her first movie, Charlie Brown of course. As I was letting go of Baby E, I again watched my sister welcome her second child. Jack doesn’t know it yet, but he is one lucky little dude, aunties like me are hard to come by. Sophia and Jack are spoiled, I treasure each moment and love them beyond measure. Their Auntie, I will always be. 

Love slowly seeped in. Fate brought me my best friend, my confidant, dinasour loving, dirty joke telling soulmate. In Jay I found home, in me he found the woman he will soon call his wife. We were so close to parenthood, but Baby E was never meant to be ours. Jay. and I have hope that our rainbow Is just around the corner. 

Who knows maybe if the stars align this time next year “motherhood” will be my why. I would love that “why” very much. 

But for now: “I Lived” is Why I Go Red

 

{Go Red for Women} #GoRedMN – Selfie time!!!

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I have some totally awesome news to share!!!! 

 
We all know you love taking a good selfie and you love to share that awesome selfie on social media. We all love to share and now our sharing will earn funds for a very important cause. 

From February 5 – 14, 2016 The St. Jude Medical Foundation will donate $10 per selfie up to $25,000.00 for every selfie posted on social media  with the hashtag #GoRedMN. How stinking cool is that!? Breakout your selfie stick, practice that duck face, strike a pretty pose, get your friends involved, heck take one with your dog and go red for the women in your life. 

Remember to use the hashtag #GoRedMN, if you don’t it won’t count and I will be sad. Be a superstar and use one of those fancy apps to link your Instagram, Facebook and Twitter together. That way you only have to create one post and you share it on all of your platforms! 

A huge shoutout and thank you to the St. Jude Medical Foundation for their commitment to women’s heart health! ♥️ 

{Go Red for Women} Being an Auntie Is Why 

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 One out of three women will die of heart disease. One out of five women will be impacted by heart disease in their lifetimes. If you ask me one, is one woman to many. Many believe that heart disease and stroke only affect the elderly, sadly this isn’t the case. The thing about Storkes is this: “they are a thing, they have no idea how old you are, or the color of your skin or your weight, they strike when you least expect it.” Stroke is not an elderly thing, it’s an every woman thing and they are 80% preventable. 

My stroke was the direct result of a hormonal contraceptive. I had gone to my annual exam and displayed all the signs and symptoms of a blood clot and my doctor ignored me…….. Yes you read that right, she ignored the signs and told me to drink some water and walk more. Her medical advice seemed half hearted and rushed. Something in my gut told me to get a second opinion, I never sought that second opinion, instead one week to the day I drove myself to the ER. 

I drove myself through rush hour traffic to the ER and that is where my second story began. I was fighting for every breath I could muster and fading fast. The CT scan revealed a clot the size of a 10cent gumball blocking the main valve that connects the left lung to my heart. Blood was barely getting past the clot, my heart was in sinus tachycardia, and my blood pressure was rising, all ingredients for a perfect storm. A storm that lead me to have a stroke right in the ER, clot busters were given to me and blood thinners were started, and I walked out of the hospital four days later.

I survived the unthinkable, only 1 out of 5 survive a pulmonary embolism and walking away unscathed from a stroke is a miracle in itself. What hurts the most is that all of this could have been prevented, there was no need for me to die almost five days before my 27th birthday. My pulmonary embolism and stroke were 100% preventable. All the doctor had to do that day was listen to me, a simple test called d-dimer could have identified the clot before it reached my lungs and my stroke would never have happened. Yet, I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world, in a moment of disaster my purpose was born.

I fight for all of the women who were asked to leave the table. For those women who never got a chance to say I do. For those women who never got to watch their children grow up. For those women who never got to become mothers and for the survivors who will never hold a baby of their own. For those who never got to hold their nieces and nephews. 

Thousands of women’s lives are being cut to short. Thousands of children are being cheated out of there mothers, aunties and grandmas. Not to mention think of all the men who never got a chance to meet their soulmate. We can change this! You and I can change this, by simply going Red. When we go Red we raise awareness of heart disease and stroke in women. When we go red we raise funds for life saving research. Mostly when we go red we save lives. Life is why and no woman deserves to fight alone.

If you need proof that “Go Red” matters, look at Sophia and Jack, they will tell you “it matters.” My family will tell you “it matters!” My story could have ended diffrently, Sharon would have picked out an urn instead of a 27th themed Halloween birthday cake for her daughter. Jammie’s children would be learning about their auntie through photographs and stories. Because of the American Heart Association’s life saving mission I got that 27th themed birthday cake and I get to be Super Auntie! 

So yes Go Red does matter and it does make a difference! Please join us and go red for the women in your lives on Friday February 5, 2016. 

Being an Auntie is Why I Go Red