Lately I have spent a lot of time alone and dared to let my mind wonder why. Tears fall silently into the Muppet’s fur and then there are moments where I burst out in laughter for no reason. Life isn’t suppose to be this way. We are supposed to fall in love, have babies, and grow old together. For the first time in years I let myself feel and believed in something called love. I held out hope that it would turn out all right and trusted the fact that he would never be like my ex husband.
Charlie knew I was broken and that he was taking on more scars than one soul could handle. Yet he would shoot me a smirk and take my hand during the moments of doubt. He called me late at night to tell me “Hey beautiful, just wanted to remind you that you are amazing. Don’t forget that.” Sometimes he would tell my voicemail a story or just talk about his day. Knowing full well that the voice mail symbol would bring a smile to me in the morning. He had faith in me and allowed me to just be. Charlie didn’t try to heal my scars, or swaddle my fears, he just simply let me be. Why others tried to give me answers, he gave me hope. Hope replaced my fears and allowed me to dream again. Dream of a place where love lived.
Late nights were spent with board games and conversation. Charlie never asked me about my failed marriage, my stroke, or my son. He told me once “I don’t need to pry. I have faith that when you’re ready you will tell me everything.” Those moments came and the man was left in awe. Bit by bit I revealed myself to him and under the brightness of the sun my secrets became exposed. I stood there before him with nothing more than my soul, vulnerable, and afraid. He just threw his arms around me and said “Babe all we need is a little hope and we’ll be all right.”
Charlie was full of hope. Hope for our future and that our lives would be more than perfect. It’s funny how one persons inability to move their car from the freeway brought that hope crashing down. Charlie’s death will remain fresh as I shake my head and wonder “Why?” I can live with the fact that it was an accident. However I can’t live with the notion that it was preventable. Had they taken the extra steps no one would have had to die that day. Charlie didn’t die alone, that one accident claimed the lives of five people. Five beautiful people that mattered to someone out there. I hold out a tiny shred of hope that the Judge will make those two idiots pay for their mistake. Rest assured I will be sitting in the courtroom on the day the sentence is handed down.
Hope is what gets me through the hard moments and allows me to dream. Charlie would want me to have a little hope and to believe in a better day. A day where the pain fades and all of this will make sense. I didn’t get to grow old with him, yet I got to spend 16 of the greatest months of my life with him. In the end that’s all that matters. That for 16 incredible months our friendship grew into love, and that love allowed us to have a little hope for a beautiful future.
It’s funny how time soothes our souls and slowly heals our wounds. I all most didn’t realize what today marked. A day that I would never forget. It was a day that women long for. I remember standing in my bathroom watching the hour-glass spin on the EPT. Part of me had hope and part of me was preparing for a “not pregnant” to pop up. It seemed like hours had passed, I didn’t want to look. To my surprise the test screen said “pregnant.” The test dropped to the floor, shaking I smiled slightly, and thought “finally my calm has come.” I showed the test to Scott, he was over joyed, his eyes filled with tears. Tears because we had just conquered the impossible. In that moment we were happy, the cheating and the lies they didn’t matter. Because now two had truly become one.
Calls were made to the doctor, since I got pregnant just months after my P.E. I was considered high risk. The doctor told us it was a long shot, and that time would tell if the warfarin sodium had done any damage to the baby. We had a 50/50 chance of bringing a baby into this world. To me those were good odds so I started the twice a day Lovenox injections and a crazy low vitamin K diet. I started showing right away, there was no hiding the fact that I was with child. My baby belly to me was a symbol of survival and my way of saying Fuck you nuva ring, I made it. Morning sickness never came, sleep was something I couldn’t get enough of, and cravings were plentiful.
The doctors said our child had a strong heart beat and that he was a fighter. The first time I saw him I fell in love, that was my child on the screen, and there was no greater gift. They talked about the odds of a blood clot forming, they told me the baby could be born Lovenox dependant, and that I could bleed to death during child-birth. Bleeding to death is not how I wanted to go, so a C-section was planned, and it was decided that our son would be born early. Being born early would be best for both baby and mommy.
While I was busy planning and dreaming of what was to come, my body was brewing up a different plan. It was the Tuesday after Mothers Day, I sat in the waiting room and looked around at all of the swollen bellies. My name was called and into the ultra sound room we went. The tech fumbled with the wand, minutes went by, and she just kept clicking on the key board. She sat their in silence adjusting the colors on the screen, soon she got up and walked out. That’s odd I thought, she came back with one of the doctors. He stared at the screen with her looking as the colors changed. He coldly said “there is no heart beat.” At first I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. He explained to me that my son had died, that my baby was dead. He told me, “I’m so sorry for your loss. it’s probably for the best.” He asked if I wanted to talk about the options. I said no and stormed out of there.
Stormed off to the Prius as I put the key into the ignition the tears began to fall. I placed my hand on my belly and dared to ask why. I could barely dial the phone, when my Mom answered all I could muster was "Aloucious died." My Mom, she was trying to hold back her tears, she said "I'll call your Dad. I went home to an empty house, Scott was in Vegas, I tried calling him but he didn't answer. I barried myself in bed, I didn't want to face the world. I wasn't ready to lose my child. The door bell rang and standing at the door was my Father.
All I could do was cry as he wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. He said to me "I don't know why this happened. We just have to have faith." I stood there in his arms crying, my whole world shattered around me. He told me to get dressed and took me out for breakfast. I could barely eat and didn't want to face the world. The rain fell softly as we walked to the car I asked "Dad can we bury Aloucious under a birch tree?" Of course he said, yes we can, why don't we go look for one now. We strolled through the nursery lot for a few hours looking for the perfect tree to place my son under, a tree that would have deep roots and strong branches. We didn't find the perfect tree and now cold from the rain I just wanted to go home.
Home is where I was when Scott finally called. I had asked him to come home, to be with me. He told me "no." I was crushed the man I needed most had failed me and left me standing alone. Alone to make decisions about our son. After talking to a nurse about my options it was evident that I would not go into labor on my own. I needed surgery. Sherri she had left work early and sat by me in the waiting room. As I went back to surgery I gave her my wedding rings to hold on to, she had tears in her eyes as she said "see you in a bit." The nurses told her the procedure would take about 40 minutes. 40 minutes melted into an hour and that hour melted into two. Soon she was told that I was out and in recovery. My ordeal, my son was no longer a part of me. I was now a mother to a baby in heaven.
I was angry, sad, and frustrated. I went through the phase where I thought my son's death was my fault and often thought maybe I wasn't good enough to be a mom. That maybe this was God's way of showing me that he didn't have faith in me. I was angry and scared. No one I knew had gone through this before. Babies just don't up and die. There had to be a reason and we would have to wait two long months for the results.
As I waited the anger started to fade, grief slipped into every day life, and I slowly started to feel a live. One thing was certain something had to change. I needed to re-evaluate my marriage and the man I called my husband. It was hard for me to fathom that Scott didn't care enough about me to get on a plane. Vegas and Ultimate Electronics were more important than his grieving wife. This was my moment to reclaim myself and to fight for what I wanted in this world.
An that I did, in June I walked away. I was done and I had nothing left to give. Two months slowly passed and the answers I had been waiting for were ready. Just like before I walked into the doctor's office alone. The nurse asked if Scott would be coming. I told her no, I left him about two weeks ago. We are getting a divorce. Oh, she said. "Well some marriages can't survive the death of a child hun." I just looked at her and said "my son gave me the strength to walk away from a man who cheated on and lied to me. He had nothing to do with my leaving or our demise." She just looked at me. The doctor came in and told me "AJ, I wish I had more to tell you. Your son was chromosomally perfect and well, we have no idea why he died. His little heart just stopped. It happens hun." That's all I needed to hear. My son was perfect. My beautiful boy was perfect and I was proud of that.
Time heals the heart. At first I didn't want anything to do with babies. Swollen tummies made me retreat and I cried behind closed doors. Friends walked on egg shells as they announced their pregnancies and shot me half smiles. Half smiles turned into hugs. Babies are a beautiful part of this world and I have faith that one day I will get to say hello instead of goodbye to my child. Goodbyes are hard, yet it gave me more strength than I could ever imagine. Maybe I am lucky because now I have a little me in heaven. A son that is always with me. I can feel him in the breeze. Sometimes I let my mind wander and wonder what he would be like today. Would he have my curly hair, his dad's eyes, and I just hope he'd have my intelligence.
Shortly after Aloucious death I got a tattoo on my right foot. Because of the blog we nicknamed him little bear. So it was only fitting that I get a tattoo of four small bear paws. Two paws are red and black those were Scott's favorite colors. The other two are pink and orange which are my favorite colors. The tattoo artist thought it was a lovely tribute and as I told him my story his eyes filled with tears. He told me that he was glad to be in the presence of one hell of a fighter. I smiled and winced a little as the needles pushed into my skin. Now when I look down I am reminded that Aloucious is always with me and that I made it though hell. Hell because in 10 short months I survived a stroke/P.E. child loss, and had the strength to walk away from a man who would never love me. Strength that I gained when I carried my child and walked through his death alone.
May 12th will be the second anniversary of my son's death. Someone told me once: "You never get over the death of a child. You, you just learn how to live with it." That person was right. I will never be ok with Aloucious being gone. However I have learned to live with it. Maybe it's because I am getting older and a tad bit wiser that I can be at peace with his death. Indian people believe in cherishing the life and honoring the spirit that lived within. A birch tree was planted in Aloucious honor and one day Sophia will be old enough to play under its branches. She will feel the warmth of her cousin surround her and his story will seep into her heart. I just hope that this birch tree will be the only one I plant in the memory of a child. My heart can only handle one birch tree. Maybe one day I will get to sit under that birch with Aloucious' brother or sister in my arms.
Babies are God’s way of letting us know he still has faith in the human race. Faith that each child is a fresh start and a chance to change the world.
I have no doubt that Sophs will change this world one day.
Not every little girl gets to have an Auntie who steps up to the plate and helps her parents out. Indian people believe that raising a child is a community effort. Thats probably why I have 14 God children. Sophia will be my 15th and I couldn’t be more honored. Honored because I get to watch this beautiful little girl grow, guide her, and help her find her place in this world.
I fear that she will associate Target with her Auntie. An she’ll greet me like this: “Hey Auntie. Hi. Can we go to Target.” I know its gonna happen. Her little face lit up when we strolled down the isles. She will be a Target girl and sadly probably a little purse obsessed too.
Sophs is all ready spoiled. However on the same coin I want my niece to be humble. To revel in the sun and to never get lost in this world. She will know how to play in a mans world and how to stand on her own. Sophs will dream big and know that anything is possible as long as she believes in herself. She and she alone is the key to her success. An as a family it is our duty to help her pick that lock, rip the door down, and shoot through the glass ceiling. Nothing, nothing on this earth will knock Super Sophs down.
Good bye is never easy. Maybe this is why the Ojibway people do not have a word for good-bye. My Father always tells me see you later because there is no such thing as a good-bye. One someone leaves us our hearts are filled with pain and our minds are left wondering why.
Why is something I have uttered numerous times over the past few days. I got angry with God and dared to ask why the fuck Charlie. Of all the people on this earth you could have called home, YOU chose to call home my best friend. Maybe God didn’t realize how much we needed Charlie. How much Charlie meant to each and every one of us. Like many of you in this room I loved Charlie more than words can say. We’ve been in this place before. We’ve said good-bye before. This is where we said good-bye to Charlie’s brother Connor. Those two were something else and they meant the world to me. Now my world is dim and my faith is hindered.
Our wold will never be the same. Charlie was one hell of a man and he was an even better friend. He stood up for those who could not stand. Charlie gave a voice to the silent and he fought like hell to bring a little justice into this world. When I think of the word ‘Attorney” I will always picture Charlie. He lived and breathed what he practiced. Not to mention he kept me up late at night proofing his drafts and before each court appearance I’d give him a pep talk. I’d tell him “Go Charlie Go! You can do this! You are smart now get in there and show them what your made of!” Charlie would chuckle. I do know he won more cases than he lost. So that is all the proof we need that he was one hell of an attorney.
Charlie was an attorney who loved to play board games and you had to play by his rules. Charlie and I would play board games into the wee hours of the morning. He told me once “AJ all of life’s problems can be solved with a board game and a shot of whiskey.” I think Charlie was on the right track. The outside world seemed to disappear with each roll of the dice. As crazy as it seems board games were the perfect distraction and would often lead to deep conversations. Either that it led to me being tipsy and Charlie’s wild laughter filling the condo. I still say he cheated and I never learned how to drink whiskey like a man.
Charlie had a wild streak in him and was always searching for his next adventure. His adventures found him navigating the streets of Europe, climbing the lime stone cliffs of the midwest, and skinny dipping in Lake Superior. He could make the most mundane things into an adventure. Charlie loved working with the Native Youth and supported out-door adventure programing. I watched him teach young kids how to rock climb, wind surf, and survive in the woods. Charlie mentored and encouraged children to seek a college education. He wanted them to seek adventure and to live a life that dreams are made of. He believed that anything was possible.
Charlie lived a life that dreams were made of and he fought like hell to make sure each one of us had an amazing life too. He was our personal cheer leader always encouraging us on to the next peak. Charlie didn’t believe in settling and if you settled he’d give you hell for it. Life is a journey worth taking.
You may have noticed that Charlie has quite a few things in his casket. A few were put there by me. Connect Four. As we all know Charlie’s favorite game was Connect Four this one happens to be special and goes along with the photo of the Muppet Like Dog. You see late one night Charlie and I were so into our game we forgot about the muppet. So the Muppet like dog took it upon himself to chew on the checkers. That was the only night I ever beat Charlie at Connect four.
Charlie loved Cullen. When he was in town I would come home to a note that read “Kidnapped Cullen. He needed some quality man time. Collect at your own risk as we will be sitting naked on the couch drinking beer! Love Charlie and the muppet like dog.” I am going to miss coming home to a ransom note and having to interrupt man and muppet like dog time.
Charlie was an amazing man and I am greatful that I got the chance to call him my friend. Charlie taught me to reach for the clouds, to bust through glass ceilings, and to have faith again. He was one of the greatest things to ever happen to me and my life will never be the same.
We are lucky because God sent us an Angel and not everyone gets to play with an angel on earth. One thing can be said for Charlie he lived a life filled with risks, love, laughter, tears, honor, and adventure. He lived a life with no regrets and we should do the same.
I’ve waited my whole life for the moment where I could give back to my sister. Early Saturday morning that moment came. Ben had left a voice mail letting me know that Sophia was being transported by ambulance to a bigger hospital with a NICU. The kicker my sister couldn’t go with. She needed to stay at the hospital and recover from her c-section. Ben called and asked me to come be with her. To get her up, moving, and eating so she could get to her daughter.
My students were happy that ACT prep class was over early. There was no place more important than being at my sister’s side. When I walked into her room she was trying to eat. Lord only knows why she asked for a heavy Arbbys sandwich. That sandwich was winning and she was losing. I watched her struggle to get out of bed. While she was in the bathroom our Mama walked in. My sister was asking for her earlier.
If you know our Mother than you know she is a drill Sargent. I can’t blame her for being that way. The woman had to raise a sick child and brought both of us to the top of our game. We strived for perfection. My sister couldn’t reach the brass ring. Instead she chose to give in to the shit around her. College slipped through her fingers and she settled for a certificate. My beautiful sister chose to settle. While I traveled the world and honed my craft. I rose to the top and she stood by my side cheering me on. As I watched my sister I knew she was giving in she was settling for what was and not thinking of getting through the pain.
After a good nap she was up and walking in the hall. My sister was fighting back. For once she chose not to settle for what was but for what could be. I cheered her on as she walked and said to her “Do you remember what you’d whisper in my ear when I was too sick to move.” She said No. “You said to me “Bobbie bird grow strong and big. I want to play with you. You my sister and my friend.” She cracked a smile and walked a little further. Once we got back to her room she was ready for a shower. The nurse came in and explained a few things to us. I was off to let the muppet out. When I came back I found a completely different woman.
She was showered, dressed, and eating. Smiling from ear to ear. Eyes glued to storage wars. I giggled when I saw her. My sister was back. She found the strength to get through the pain and get closer to her daughter. Soon our parents left and it was just us. Hanging out in her hospital room having a slumber party. My sister said I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Sophia. I told her Sophia is like her auntie and that little girl isn’t going anywhere. Lord knows I’ve almost died 3 times and I am still standing. I said “Fathead you are going to have a gazillion years with Sophia. She is in the best hands and she is a fighter. We never give up.” She looked up with tears in her eyes and cracked a smile.
I swear she kept me up until almost 1 am. The Dr. came in at 7:05 to tell my sister that she was free to go. All we had to do was tell the nurses to get the paper work in order. She ordered breakfast and took a shower. As I sat on the couch watching some trashy travel show she asked me “can you come here?” “I need help getting dressed.” The poor thing couldn’t bend over. My the tables have turned I said. Again she smiled. Once she was dressed I told the nurses we were ready to bust out. I am happy to report that she walked out on her own accord. I shoved her in the prius and we were on our way.
I stopped by the NICU on Sunday night. Sophia had wires coming from all directions and my sister sat in the rocker with a smile. She was with her baby. An I had kept my promise. I told her on Saturday ” I will do everything in my power to get you to Sophia.” I held to my word and watched as Jammie held Sophia in her arms. Sophia was a sleep in her Mommys arms and my sister was happy. Her happiness was worth one night of crappy sleep on a hospital couch. This was my moment to give back to her and show her that she was stronger than she ever thought possible.
Words cannot begin to describe how proud I am to be Sophia’s Aunt. Sophia is the sweetest little ninja and she all ready has me wrapped around her finger. Soon she will be using her kung fu skills to take over the world. For now she is thinking and taking it all in.
After Ben’s sister and friends left he asked me “So do you want to hold your niece.” I blurted yes and he handed her over. Turns out I was the first person in our entire family to hold her. Ben didn’t even let his sister hold her. This was a special moment.
As I held Sophia in my arms I looked over and noticed my sister with tears in her eyes. Tears because she was watching her baby sister hold her baby. I told her “We have matching scars now!” She cracked a smile and Sophia nestled her head into my arms. She knew she was safe with her auntie and soon she was a sleep.
We talked about my son and the fact that I will not hold a baby of my own. She asked me if it bothered me. I told her “You never really get over the death of a child. You just live with it.” Thats what I do. I take each day as it comes and hope for the best. I spent the evening telling Sophia stories from our childhood. Stories of our adventures, turtles, and my travels over seas. An of course I told her all about Target and promised her that I’d teach her how to make a mean cookie. Sophia stretched her arms out and made little punches. This little ninja came out fighting 🙂 a ninja after my own heart. Sophia is a Ninja and I have no doubt that she will change the world.
Rumor on the street is that you are coming tomorrow. That means your birthday will be on January 26th. I think that’s a mighty fine day for my niece to be born.
Sophia you are being born into a legacy of strong women and a blood line that is grounded in the tradition of the Ojibway nation. Your great great Grandmother Grace suffered and endured so that you could be free. You are possible because she knew that one day it would be ok for Indian people to marry white people. That is your how your Grandfather got here.
Your Grand Daddy has been through hell and back. Next month marks the tenth anniversary of his heart attack. Your Mama and I are thankful that our Daddy is here to see his first grand baby. When you are older I will tell you why I call Grandpa Pete. Pete isn’t his real name. Just know that you are like butter in your Grandpa’s hands and he will do anything for you. If he says no just ask Grandma. She always gives in.
Your Grandma is one hell of a woman. Her name is Sharon and she was one of the first females to hold a heavy equipment operators license. Grandma drove a dump truck and she taught us that “Women can do a man’s job and we can do it better than they can!” Your Grandma never let your Mama and I quit.She will do the same with you. Grandma will tell you “Sophia there is no such thing as I can’t. Because you can do it.” If Grandma tells you no ask Grandpa. He always gives in and will make you promise to not tell Grandma that he gave in. Thats how your Mama and I got what we wanted.
This brings me to your Mama. You’ve been hanging out with her and by now you know she is obsessed with purses. I’m sorry but she will subject you to her purse obsession. Your Mama is a strong woman. She doesn’t think she is but that girls got fight in her. JammieLeigh is her name (Grandma had a thing for double names) and she is a force to be reckoned with. When your mama and I were little we would play in our fort in the woods for hours on end. She was captain Jammie and I was her trusty sidekick the boobie bird. I had a cape and goggles that I wore to play the part of the perfect side kick. Where ever your Mama went the Boobie bird (don’t ask) wasn’t far behind her. Thats how our lives have been. Together we make the perfect team and I am honored to have woman like your Mama as my sister. In Red Wing your Mama and I are simply known as Greg’s girls.
People know not to mess with our family because we’re like a miniature country. You mess with one you mess with all of us. Lucky for you your Auntie (that’s me) is a lobbyist and she is making the world better for you. Instead of using my fists I use my words. Your Mama knows how to shoot a gun {I fear for your future dates} and well I can sail the get away ship. Thou I hope things never come to that point.
Sophia my wish is that we will never need to sail a gate away ship. That is unless we find our selves in shark infested waters. Then I’d want to sail a get away ship. Seriously thou I know you will do big things and that you are going to be one incredible little lady. Go easy on your Mama and just know that she’s gullible. I once I had her believing her car was possessed. Wait…wait it still is. So if you don’t want to go to school just tell her you saw a monster in the driver’s seat. Trust me she will believe you.
Now to the serious part. Sophia you have the power to change this world and make it better for the next generation. I hope you grow up to find a career that you love and don’t consider it work. Never lose your sense of wonder, never forget to dream, and live with your heart wide open. You are a ninja and ninjas never give up. Make your own road and let the stories of the past ground you. As long as you believe in what you are doing you can never go wrong. My son will be the angel on your shoulder and he will watch over you. He will always make sure you come home. Know that no matter where you go in this world I will always love you.
You Sophia are a life worth fighting for. Your mama will fight tooth and nail for you. My promise to you is this: I swear to you that I will do everything in my power to make medications safe for women. That you will not have to endure my fate and struggle to get you back. You will not be lost in this world. You my dear girl have strong women that will ground you and an angel looking out for you. You will live a life that dreams are made of.
Some of us can go our whole lives without knowing a heart transplant patient. When you do your life is forever changed and you are greatful for the gift.
In 1992 Emma Maurene became the first infant in the state of Minnesota to receive a heart transplant. Emma was born with an under developed heart valve and was admitted to the University of Minnesota Hospital on the day she was born. At three months old she had her heart transplant in St Louis Missouri. Someone had to go first, to prove the odds wrong, and champion the way for other infant heart transplants. There was no better fit than this little girl.
Emma was a beautiful little girl. Full of life, smiles, and laughter. She fought a good fight giving it her all until the bitter end. Shortly after Christmas Emma was admitted to St. Johns Hospital in Red Wing, and like other times she was flown to the University of Minnesota to have her condition cared for. The common cold would prove to be to strong for this little girls body to fight off. Sadly Emma passed away on December 29th, 1995.
The church was packed to the gills, hundreds came to say goodbye to a tiny little girl. Her love and her zest for life is what carries us. Her memory brings peace knowing that in those three short years they gained more knowledge that would allow them to save little girls like Emma all over the world.
Emma fueled my involvement with the American Heart Association and the National Organ Donor Program. My uncle use to have a bumper sticker on his truck that read “Recycle Yourself and Save A Life.” Its true each and every one of us are capable of saving a life by donating our organs. One family had to make a heart wrenching decision when their child died, that child’s heart, gave my uncle and his wife three years with Emma. An now Emma is saving lives. The University of Minnesota is now a leader in pediatric heart transplants, they got this information and learned from our Emma Maurene.
Emma is close to my heart and when I am on stage advocating for heart health I think of her. Her Daddy was robbed of his little girl. Jeffery never got to watch Emma go on her first date, graduate from high school, or walk her down the aisle. Instead he got to say goodbye on a snowy December day. I think of all the Fathers I have met and how they tell me heart disease robbed them of their daughter. Of how hard it was to watch their little girls slip away.
Heart disease is the #1 KILLER of Women in America. If you ask me, we need to stop it in its tracks and put it to bed once and for all. Every woman you meet is someone’s daughter and their Father’s deserve to see their lives unfold.
When I was a little girl I held out such hope and wonder for the prize that lay hidden with in my box of Cracker Jacks. Hope that inside the box I would find a decoder ring. I carefully ripped the top of the box off, dug my little hand into the caramel covered goodness, and pulled out the prize envelope. Only to find that I had received another sticker, comic book, or plastic frog. That decoder ring eluded me and I began to think that Crack Jacks lied to me. That they never put a decoder ring in their boxes of yummy goodness and it was just an advertising ploy to sell more Cracker Jacks.
The decoder ring eludes me to this day. Every now and then I buy a few boxes just to see if that decoder ring is inside. It never is and the plastic frog has been replaced with cheap stick on tattoos. Is the decoder ring a lie or is it truly a prize one can find in the bottom of their Cracker Jacks box. We will never know until we peel the top off to find out.
This morning I awoke to yet another Facebook post about a friend being pregnant. This time those words “I’m pregnant” stung and cut through my heart. Why you ask? Its simple this person led me to believe that they could never get pregnant. Because her ovaries and fallopian tubes were filled with scar tissue. I believed her and felt bad for her. An when I found myself in the same infertile boat, I leaned on her for support. Little did I know she was taking my words and twisting them into her own story, using them for her own benefit, and now she is proclaiming a miracle.
By days end her status was filled with hundreds of well wishes, prayers, and congratulations. No one stopped to question the fact that she lied. For years she has told people that it would be impossible for her to get pregnant, let alone carry that child to term. Here she was telling all of us that she is now with child, a child that is a miracle. I am happy for her and glad that she is pregnant.
However on the same coin I wish she would come forward and tell the truth. Because now she is providing hundreds of women like myself with false hope. I was to upset to go into work this morning. So I called A and told him what I had found out. He claimed bull shit right away. There I was crying in the arms of a friend and questioning where my prize was. I told A ” I want a prize god damn it. I lived through hell and what do I get nothing.” He looked at me and said “I hate it when you cry.” Followed by “AmandaJean your prize is better than a baby. Your prize is your life. You are walking, talking, living proof that people can and will survive a pulmonary embolism, stroke, and cancer. An that babes is the best prize of all.”
A is right, life is the best prize of all. He also reminded me that not everyone has a friend who offers to carry a child for her. That not everyone has a friend who will endure weeks of hormone injections to give her eggs away. I’d say I am one lucky woman. My decoder ring doesn’t lie inside a box of caramel coated popcorn, it lies within the hearts of two women, and those women are giving me the greatest prize of all. They are providing me with HOPE that one day I to will be a mom.
At the end of the day I do not need to lie to make myself better or bigger. Some people make gashes out of paper cuts, mountains out of mole hills, and I choose to make the world better by sharing the hell I went through. My five-year old self still holds out hope that inside a box of Cracker Jacks lies a decoder ring. Maybe one day my son or daughter will rip off the box top, reach inside, and come running to me saying “Mommy I found a decoder ring.”
The other day I asked my Father: “What are you thankful for?” He looked at me with his teary blue eyes and said “YOU! I am thankful that you are alive. I am thankful that I have my daughter standing next to me and not in a tiny urn I can hold in my hand.” Thats when it hit me, all to often Fathers are losing their daughters to Pulmonary embolism, strokes, and heart disease.
I am thankful to be raised by such a wonderful man and have parents that support my crazy life. They never gave me the option to give up or back down. The day I was lying in the ICU my Mama told me “You can cry about this for 5 minutes and then you’re done feeling sorry for yourself. Ok?” We cried for 5 minutes and then I put my big girl pants on and fought back. Fought for the life that I wanted to lead and I became a thriving survivor. Giving up was never an option. However giving back was.
Over the past two years I have received an out pouring of support from my beautiful friends, family, the American Heart Association, Stop the Clot, and countless others. They cheered me on when I wanted to give up. They kept giving me info, web links, and books so I could live a heart healthy life style. They are the reason I am thriving. An I am forever in debt to all of these wonderful people. Thankful that they believed in me and believed that I would see a better day. Thank you for never giving up on me.
So I pledge…
To not just survive – but thrive. I will learn how to live stronger and longer – for me, my family, and my community. I will join the movement, take action to improve my health and to share information with others to help prevent and overcome stroke.
Please remember that as you sit down at your table full of family and friends…..remember that at someone’s table there is an empty chair that was once filled by their daughter. My heart goes out to the family with an empty chair at their table this Thanks Giving. It is because of you I advocate and educate the public on the #1 killer in America. One day there will be no empty chairs at the Thanks Giving table. There will only be full chairs with Healthy Hearts gathering to give thanks.
Have Bear Will Travel 