Hannah's gift

The other day, Hannah and I were at a store and they were handing out free samples. I'm one to take advantages of those types of things so Hannah and I each grabbed a plastic cup of fresh fruit with strawberries, blackberries and blueberries.

Hannah took her time eating the fruit and when she was down to one blueberry she told me she was going to save it for Karen (a friend of mine we had just seen and watches Hannah some times).

Hannah is sweet like that. She's always saving stuff to give to people and I encourage it. So I told her Karen would love the blueberry and I was so proud of her for wanting to share it.

So, we're walking around the store with Hannah's little plastic cup with one blueberry in it. Several people were kind enough to tell me where the garbage can was to which Hannah immediately would tell them the blueberry was for Karen.

I would simply nod, smile and thank them for their help and go on our way.

Then disaster struck as we were checking out. Hannah was hanging onto her plastic cup when she suddenly started crying and screamed "My boo-berry for Karen is GONE!" I looked and sure enough, the "boo-berry" was gone.

Wanting to make my girl happy, we backtracked to find the blueberry. Luckily it was just a few feet, but it didn't look good. Half of it was squashed and Hannah sighed loudly and said "Oh no!"

I then said something I regret deeply: "Maybe we should just throw it away, Hannah."

Ouch.

Wait for it...

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! WE CAN'T THROW IT AWAY! IT'S FOR KAREN! DON'T THROW AWAY THE BOO-BERRY!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

I think the town 10 miles away heard her.

So with everyone in the store staring at us and I'm sure completely horrified, I picked up Hannah's half-squashed blueberry and put it in her cup.

"There Hannah. There's the blueberry. Now be sure to hold onto it real tight."

With tears on her cheeks, she smiled and thanked me. She held tightly onto that plastic cup with her little hands, not taking her eyes off it and was so careful to set it carefully in the car by her seat. She made sure she kept telling me where Karen's "boo-berry" was.

To many people, that was just a free sample, a squished blueberry that just needed to go into the garbage. To Hannah, though, she had received a gift from someone else and she wanted to share her gift. She's always doing that, whether it's she wants to share her supper with someone or she wants to share her candy with the dog. It's so important to her to share her food (toys are a different story :))

What a gift.

With so many of her treats and snacks, she always has to save some for someone, especially when they are sick. When her babysitter is sick, she wants to make sure we send gummies and popsicles to her as she knows those will make her feel better.

I don't know where she learned it but she makes me so proud. I hope she continues with the sharing and saving the last of her treat for someone else.

Her sweet, caring, sharing personality makes this mommy shine with pride.

I never want her to lose that gift. I know when she comes up to me with her soggy Goldfish cracker and practically forces it down my throat, she's giving it to me because she wants to share. She doesn't have to do it and yet she does it. No matter what the cracker looks like or feels like, I take it and thank her for sharing such a precious thing with me.

And she beams.

I think making other people smile and so happy makes her so happy.

Hannah, you have such a gift and I hope you never lose that. Keep saving the last of your treat. Keep the squashed blueberry. Feed me the soggy crackers. I know you're doing it out of the kindness of your heart and because you want to share your happiness.

I'm so extremely proud of you sweet girl. I love you so much.

The emotion of waiting rooms

Since being married to Mark, I've been in many waiting rooms and on quite a few occasions I've been in the same waiting room more than once.

I hate waiting rooms.

Last week, we were faced with urgent surgery for Mark. We've been to this hospital before quite a few times and Mark has had 4 procedures done in this hospital. I've sat in the same waiting room 4 times but because of my first experience in that waiting room, it's always a very anxious time for me.

It was back in 2005 shortly after Mark had had a heart attack. He had just had a stress test which had come out normal. To complete the workup they chose to perform an angiogram to do an accurate assessment of his blood vessels.

I was there with my parents and honestly wasn't too concerned as we had just had a stress test and it was completely normal.

You can imagine my surprise when a team of providers came out not too long after the procedure had started and asked to talk to me. I don't remember the exact words but they were something like this: "We've just started we've already found very significant disease. His bypassed vessels from a few years ago are completely blocked and most of his other vessels are also completely blocked. We are highly recommending a heart transplant. There is one vessel that can be possibly be stented and it may help him. However, there is a 50-50 chance something serious could happen and we may have to do emergency surgery if the vessel bursts. The decision is yours as to whether or not to proceed with that".

Needless to say I was shocked. I asked if Mark was awake--yes. I asked if I could discuss this with him--no. I asked if he was aware of the situation--yes. At that point I told them to tell Mark it was his decision, I would support whatever he decided and to please tell Mark I love him so much.

They nodded and expressed their sympathies. And they left.

A complete and total nightmare. Nothing, absolutely nothing can prepare you for that news.

Obviously he came through fine and he's doing as well as can be expected and we are so grateful for that.

But I'll never, ever forget that day and the walls surrounding me when I got that news.

Since that day, I've had to be in the same waiting room 3 more times for procedures regarding his defibrillator. Although they've updated the waiting room, the structure is still the same. I see the same windows I looked out when the medical team was talking with me. I can see the same area I was sitting in. I see the same coffee area that was there.

I've never sat in the same spot again. In fact, I've sat with my back to it. I've never looked out those windows again and make an attempt to avoid looking out as much as possible. And I won't get a cup of coffee from that spot again.

It may sound odd but I think most people when they get bad news, a trigger can be so hard and bring back many memories that are just too hard.

If possible I wouldn't go back to that waiting room again but I have to. A part of me feels strong because I can do it. Another part of me wishes I was stronger so I wouldn't so nervous about going into that waiting room.

(By the way, we found out it turns out in diabetes, it is very common to get a "false negative" stress test. Needless to say, we've refused any other stress tests they recommend.)

I've been faced with similar situations, too. Like back in 2001 when Mark's transplant had to be cancelled the night before and I was sitting in the exact room that we often pass when going back for Mark's follow-ups. Or passing by the bathrooms in the hall which used to be pay phones and I used the pay phone to call my mom and give her the awful news about the cancelled transplant.

I also have some positive memories. Like the waiting room in the hospital where Mark had his transplant. That was the only time I've had to be in that waiting room and it was a positive experience with many family members there and seeing the surgeon come out with the biggest smile on his face---a moment I'll never forget. Whenever Mark is in the hospital there, I make a special point to walk by that waiting room so I remember that glorious time.

But, honestly that's a rarity.

So many other rooms I remember as a negative experience, despite if positive experiences have followed.

Mark has been in his transplant hospital many, many times and I often sleep in the family waiting room if I'm not able to stay in his room. There are certain rooms I just can't stay in because it brings back bad memories. Like when I was awoken in the middle of the night by a woman screaming because her 3-year-old had just passed away. A mom who I had spent a few days with and gotten to know. I was crushed. I've never been in that waiting room since.

Another time as I was waiting, another family heard the dreaded news come over the speaker that their family member was in a code blue. Again, screaming, running and tears. It was so hard to witness and I stay away from that waiting room.

I often walk into a waiting room and immediately I pray. I pray that this particular waiting room will be "safe", that I won't have bad memories, that I can come back if needed and that it will be like the transplant waiting room--a waiting room with hope and peace and joy.

I know it's seems strange that a room can cause that much emotion but it can and does. Just like days, holidays, certain events can be triggers, so can waiting rooms and it certainly isn't easy sometimes.

Selfies

Hannah's become obsessed with doing selfies. I have no clue where she would've gotten that from (yeah, I pretty much take pictures all the time).

Here are some of my favorite selfies--the first 3 she took and the last 3 I took. I think she did a much better job. :)

I love this chicky. :)

Mark years ago and Mark today

**Warning--this is a long post. I was in one of "those" moods I guess :)**

Like I've said before, I like to document stuff for Hannah. I want to be an open book for Hannah. I want her to know her mom feels blessed, happy, and enjoys her life.

I also want her to know her mom gets frustrated and that it's okay.

Just keeping it real. And honestly, it's always nice to get frustrations out.

Everyone is criticized in life and I admit I take things to heart and sometimes too much. I'm oversensitive and I admit it.

I don't want to mention any names--that's not necessary. But when we first got married, I was criticized for the way I was taking care of Mark. I was often told I didn't know how much people did for Mark before I came along and that he was just as sick before I came along than he was now. I honestly think the criticism was more jealousy because I was supposedly getting the "credit" when others had also been there for Mark.

It wouldn't bother me so much but I still hear it from certain people. And we've been married for 14 years.

I just want people to understand and to "get it".

I remember when I first met Mark in 1996. We were both working at a gas station--him as a second job and myself to get through college. He was just your typical, normal guy. It wasn't until a couple years later when we became good friends that I found out he was diabetic. It didn't even faze me. Both sides of my family have members who are diabetes. We grew up with family picnics and birthday parties that had special dishes for the diabetics and non-diabetics. Birthday cakes were half frosted and half not. It was the way I grew up. So I thought nothing of it when he told me he was diabetic.

I admit at that time, I didn't know a lot about the disease. I knew you had to give yourself shots every day and couldn't eat sugar and I knew some of the signs to watch for in a low sugar reaction. But that was about it.

It wasn't until a couple years later in 2000 when Mark started showing signs of kidney failure and we were told he would need a kidney transplant. It was then that I realized just how much diabetes affects the entire body and it is so much more than just watching your blood sugars and taking shots every day.

I'm not minimizing what people went through "before I came along". I've heard the stories of Mark being found in a diabetic coma, of his dad rushing into a clinic carrying a limp Mark after finding him in a low reaction screaming for help, the horrible laser treatments Mark had to endure as a college student, eyes filling with blood, Mark having an insulin reaction when his son was born, etc. I've heard tons of stories. They all break my heart and I feel for everyone who has been a part of that--especially Mark.

Before we found out about Mark's kidneys failing and we were dating, I also endured stories like that. Getting a call from our boss at the gas station saying they had to call an ambulance for Mark and I should get to the hospital, coming to his house in the morning before work and finding him unconscious from an insulin reaction, witnessing him having stroke-like symptoms (we still don't know why that happened) and many other insulin reactions and difficult circumstances.

I'd give anything to have those days back. Because now those days are so simple compared to what we go through now and those were the days when "people did so much for Mark and he was just as sick then as he is now".

Things were so different back then. While Mark was seriously ill and had a lot of scary situations, he was able to work. In fact, many times during this time he worked 2 and sometimes 3 jobs. He drove a car and often did his own work on the car. He was a fabulous artist. He loved golfing. He was able to do the simple things like making his own meals, paying bills, drive to pick up his boys, make his own appointments and go to them all by himself. And his only appointment was a 6-month follow-up for his diabetes and an occasional specialist appointment. His only medication was his insulin. While we were dating, we did so much together including golfing, hiking, going to movies, shopping and never thought twice about it.

Gosh, I miss those days so much. :(

Compared to then, this is how he is now: He can't work. He's been unable to work since March 2001. It's not that he doesn't want to as I know he misses working so much. He just can't do it physically. He no longer has a driver's license as his eyesight has gotten too poor and he isn't able to drive any longer. He can't draw anymore because his tremors from his diabetes have gotten so bad. He definitely can't golf anymore and has given his golf clubs to his boys. He can make some meals but for the most part I do the cooking as standing up for prolonged periods of time is just too hard on him. I make all his appointments as I have to drive him to them and they need to work around my schedule. He averages about one appointment a week between all of his specialist appointments, labs every 6 weeks, regular checkups, etc. He now takes 18 prescription medications which is about 60 pills a day at times and they are constantly changing so we have to always keep a close eye on them. Now, we very seldom ever go out as it's too hard on Mark to go anywhere. Car rides are extremely hard on him. He isn't able to walk long distances at all and often times needs a wheelchair if we plan on doing that. Every day we wake up praying and hoping Mark doesn't end up in the hospital or have a bad day with pain. 15 years ago I didn't have those concerns. Back then things were "normal".

I know people did a lot for Mark. I'm certainly not minimizing what they did. I feel for them. I really do. It is hard watching someone you love struggle with diabetes, watching them have an insulin reaction and not be themselves, not being able to talk to them while they're unconscious, etc. It's something that sticks in your mind forever and I feel for anyone who has to go through that. It's so dang hard.

I also want to point out I'm certainly not glorifying myself right now. I know the reason Mark is here now isn't because of me but because of God and Mark and his precious daughter who gives him so much strength.

What frustrates me is that 14 years later, I'm still hearing about how people did just as much for Mark before I came and how he was just as sick back then as he is now.

I just want people to understand.

I don't want a pat on the back. I don't want any credit or attention or anything like that. That's the last thing I want. I don't want to be looked at as a "caregiver" or be thanked for "what I do for Mark". It makes me feel like a nurse.

I'm his wife. I'm the mother of his daughter. We're a family.

There's no competition in my mind as to who did the most for Mark or how sick he was then or now.

What bothers me is that other people apparently make a point to prove that there is and yet don't have a clue of what Mark goes through every day and actually haven't seen him or talked to him in many months.

That's what gets to me.

Like I've said many times, I don't want people feeling sorry for me. I don't want sympathy. I don't want the attention. By no means, do I ever want anyone feeling jealous for me getting all the 'credit' for taking care of Mark.

Like Mark, I simply want people to understand. That's all. And to be honest, I don't know if people will ever truly understand. Just like I have no idea what other people's lives are like, nobody can truly understand what my and Mark's lives are like.

Sometimes I admit, I wish I would've had more of Mark in his "good" years---the years he felt so much better. I feel envious of the people who got so many of those years while I didn't. Those people who did "so much" for Mark before I came along I feel got the "easy part of taking care of Mark". I long for more of those years that I got.

But I also feel bad for them. Mostly because while these past years have been so hard on us, I have been able to witness such an amazing life with Mark. I've gotten to see his faith grow since having his transplant. I've been able to witness the testimony Mark's life has been to other people. I've been able to see other people's faith grow because of Mark. I've been able to meet amazing and wonderful people I otherwise wouldn't have met if I had gotten Mark's "good" years.

In some ways, I've gotten the "best" years.

While yes it frustrates me big time to be criticized and it hurts, I also know I'm truly blessed to have the "best" years. Mark has taught me so much about myself--so much I didn't even know myself. He's been a huge testimony to so many people struggling and even those who aren't struggling. Many people have confided in me how inspired they are by Mark and it's an honor to know I'm married to a man like that.

If given the choice, I'll take the Mark I have now, despite how things certainly are different and his illness has changed what we had never anticipated.

I get to see miracles and an amazing testimony in Mark every day that God has blessed me with the honor of being a witness to and ultimately my life is for God's honor and grace until He calls me home.

While I'm tired of the criticism and comparisons, I can take it. God knows and as long as my life glorifies Him, I know I'm doing my best and what I'm called to do.

And THAT is what matters.

Blessed to have surgery?

When I woke up Monday morning, I didn't expect to be scheduling Mark for an urgent surgery for the next day but that's exactly what happened.

About a month ago, Mark had gone in for his defibrillator check and he had a good report. No serious episodes of irregular heart rhythm and his battery life in his defibrillator was about 9 years.

So when Mark started hearing odd beeping noises from his defibrillator Sunday night, it was very strange. I called immediately Monday morning. They did an at-home check and again, everything came back fine. However, after further investigation and review, it was discovered that Mark's particular model and brand of defibrillator had a recall and malfunctioned. His defibrillator was no longer working and he would need to have a replacement right away.

It was so discouraging. We didn't think we would be placed with this situation for another 9 years and here we were scheduling it the next day. We were both extremely frustrated.

I knew Mark was really discouraged and frustrated and I was trying so hard to keep his spirits up but it was difficult.

Of course we asked for prayer and the response was wonderful. We had so many people praying and thinking for Mark and we were extremely grateful.

Getting ready for surgery, Mark still wasn't himself. I could tell he was just not happy about things and just discouraged. I didn't blame him.

His surgery lasted an hour. The surgeon came out to tell me that everything went great and there were no issues at all.

I went back to see Mark and I was so relieved to see he looked much better. He was more relaxed and there was color in his cheeks. The first thing he said to me was "I'm blessed".

I gave him a funny look. "Blessed? To have surgery? What do you mean?"

He explained that recently he had started lifting weights after he did his daily walk on the treadmill. He knew that he started that for a reason, to help strengthen his muscles and that God helped him prepare for it. Plus, he made it through the surgery and everything went well. He was blessed.

Wow.

I admit, on Monday, I was so discouraged and stressed about trying to schedule a surgery and trying to work out things with Hannah and work, etc. that I never thought of any of this as a "blessing". And even when Mark was out of surgery and everything went fine, I never thought of me as being "blessed"---relieved, yes, but blessed was pushing it.

Until Mark said he was blessed. Here he had just undergone a surgery that he shouldn't have had to go through and he was blessed.

Yes, he was. We all were.

Yes, the surgery was relatively low risk but there were still risks, especially with Mark's low heart function. There are people who don't walk away from a surgery--he did.

When we were parking, Mark couldn't get out of the car for awhile because a woman was getting a child out of a car who was confined to a wheelchair. Not being able to open a door and being a little late to an appointment was so minor compared to this kid and woman who had the lifestyle they did. Mark could walk. This poor child wasn't able to.

We are blessed.

We recently heard of an acquaintance who had had a heart attack and had bypass surgery and was fighting for his life.

Mark was able to have a surgery in the hospital and leave that very same day, going to bed in his own bed.

We are blessed.

Mark was so right. It was strange to walk in and see him covered in sterile gauze, sterile solution, an IV poking out of him, gauze all over his arm from blood draws and then have him say "I'm blessed".

But it was so true. We are blessed.

Like Mark said, God helped him through it. He helped him prepare for the surgery and it was all in God's timing.

What a blessing.

A very special birthday

I admit there are definitely times I question why we've had to deal with Mark's serious health condition & infertility. 

And then there are times I'm so grateful we do. If we didn't, we wouldn't have met one of the most special people in our life. 

Claire is one of Hannah's babysitters. She's the daughter of Mark's doctor who is also Hannah's pediatrician. I talk or see him at least once a week if not more. I talk to him much more than family. He's pretty much become like a big brother to me. 

Back in 2010, I started coaching gymnastics to raise money for our infertility treatments & possible adoption. In that gymnastics class was Mark's doctor's kids, Claire & Grant. I got to know them & started helping with rides & a place to hang out between school & gymnastics as we lived close to school & I could bring them to gymnastics. 

I never thought they would become like my own children. 

They learned about our struggles to have a baby. They were both so excited when I found out I was pregnant on my birthday. I'll never forget their excitement in their voices when they called me to congratulate me. And they were devastated when I miscarried. They shared the grief. 

When they found out we matched with Hannah, they were so excited. They were one of the first to meet Hannah when we Skyped from states away. Not ideal but I was so happy they were one of the first to officially meet her. 

And they finally got to meet our sweet daughter in person at only a few days old. 

Claire holding Hannah for the first time. 

Soon after Hannah was born I knew I needed extra help. I immediately thought of Grant & Claire being babysitters & they were so excited. They started coming over a couple afternoons a week after school so I could get some things done. 

That was 3 years ago & to this day I don't know what I'd do without them. 

Hannah loves them so much & has a special bond with Claire. When I ask Hannah what she wants to be when she grows up she says "Claire!"  When I ask her who her favorite person is she says "Claire!"  

Claire is an amazing role model for Hannah. She is a beautiful young lady. She's been raised by 2 amazing parents & her own babysitter growing up who I'm friends with & is an awesome mother herself. Claire was raised & continues to grow so well because of the wonderful people who raise her. They've done an amazing job. 

Today Claire turns 13. It's her day & she deserves it. I've been so lucky to watch her grow from a little girl into a beautiful young lady. I'm so honored to have her help me raise my little girl. Hannah is the amazing girl we all love because of the help I have raising her. 

I love you Claire! Happy birthday! I hope you have a special day! You deserve it!  I'm so extremely proud of you & so honored to be a part of your life. Thank you for being a wonderful role model to Hannah & being the type of woman Hannah wants to grow up to be. If she's half the person you are, it'll be a huge honor

Thank you for allowing us in your life. I hope you have an amazing day. We love you with all our heart!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CLAIRE!

What makes my husband so amazing

Yesterday we had the honor of celebrating Mark's birthday--an honor we cherish as every day with him is a blessing.

When I think of Mark I think of faithful, honor, strength and determination.

To many people when they think of Mark they think of him as a man who has diabetes and has unfortunately suffered greatly because of it.

To Mark, he's simply a man with a wonderful life, great kids and wants to do anything anyone else can.

He doesn't see himself as "sick" and very often will try to convince people otherwise. He keeps quiet about all the daily struggles he goes through, the constant pain he struggles with, how very little he can see, how much more difficult everything is to him than other people. He rarely complains and instead is a listening ear to other people who complain about their struggles which to them seem so big when in reality compared to Mark are so minor.

He's simply amazing.

He loves God. He knows there is a reason for everything. He is so thankful for the life he has. Although he gets frustrated with his struggles, he's also constantly reminded that without those struggles he wouldn't have the life he has today.

For many years I've heard from so many people how inspiring Mark is, how strong he is and how their troubles seem so minor compared to what Mark endures every day.

Mark is so much more than a "diabetic". Although you very seldom ever see him wearing a hat, he is a man of many hats.

He is an amazing artist who has drawn many pictures. He is an incredibly hard and talented wood worker and loves to build wood toys. He loves going to car shows and collects Die-cast cars. He is so knowledgeable about cars and can pretty much tell you everything you need to know. He loves to golf and used to golf all the time. He was an inventory control manager of a successful business and was great at his job until he was forced to go on diability.

He may not be able to do these things anymore but it doesn't take away from the person he is.

He's a father, son, husband, godfather, uncle, brother and friend to so many people. To him, his most important roles in his life are father and husband. His kids and wife are the most important in his life and he will do anything for them.

Mark is the strongest, most talented, loving, gracious man I know. He may not have the strongest physical heart, but he has the biggest emotional heart of anyone I know.

One of the many things that simply amazes me is that no matter how he's feeling, he'll wrestle and play with Hannah. He'll run after his niece and nephews. He'll play games with the neighbor kids.

While I'm struggling with energy and telling the kids "Maybe later", Mark's struggling much more and telling them "Of course I'll play with you right now".

To Mark, everyone else comes first. He comes last.

I've never heard him get angry with God or wonder why his life has played out the way it has. He always simply says "It's the cards I've been dealt with". While at times I want to trade in the deck for a new set, Mark simply plays with the hand he's been dealt with and wins the game.

And he wins every time.

We can all learn something from Mark. We can learn to accept our life--both the good and the bad and simply play the game with the cards we've been dealt. We can learn to appreciate every single day. We can learn to give 110% in everything we do and do it now instead of later.

Smile. Listen to others and be there for others.

Love others more than ourselves.

Forget yourself for others and others will not forget you.

Thank you, Mark, for all you've taught me, your kids and everyone who is fortunate to be in your life. We are better people because of you.