I Want To Dream

I make every attempt I can to remain positive about my condition.  I try to my best to stay optimistic about my recovery and free of worry about the cavernoma malformation that still remains in the Pons of my brain stem.  I work very hard to realize the beauty and the blessings that are around me everyday.  I am successful in my attempts 95% of the time.

I have always been a planner.  So much so that sometimes I would be so busy planning for the future that I would forget to live in the here and now.  Then I had my stroke and I didn't know if I was going to have much of a future to look forward to.  I had no choice but to slow way, way down and enjoy the present.  Now I am feeling better and am a bit more optimistic and I am beginning to look forward to the future again.

Here's the problem: now every time I think about the future my mind quickly follows my thought with, "But what if I bleed again and undergo surgery?"  That thought makes me wonder if I should have surgery.  If I did, then my CM would be gone, I would know what deficits I would be stuck with, and I could move on and stop worrying about how devastating another bleed could be.  I immediately start picturing what I could possibly be like physically and mentally at that time and how my deficits could possibly affect my dream.  It doesn't matter how hard I try to stop it.  It is like an involuntary reflex.

Can you imagine how debilitating that is for a person's spirit?  I am just stuck.  I don't want to look back, but I can't move forward.  I am just stuck.  Yes, it is important to be present now, but it is also healthy to be allowed to dream.  Dreams keep a person motivated to steadily move forward in life without worry.  Dreams keep a person inspired and excited about life.

My dream is to be able to dream again.  My dream is to be able to think about the future without needing to add a "what if" afterward.  My dream is to live without worry.  My dream is for my CM to stop controlling my life.  My dream is to be normal again.

I just want to be able to dream.

Shine Your Light

I mention often when I write that I want to learn from my stroke.  I want my illness to be something that is helpful and positive rather than scary and pitied.  I am too much of a coward to be interviewed or do public speaking events so I decided to write a blog instead. It was my hope when I started my blog for it to aid me in my recovery and be a keepsake of my journey for my girls and my family.   I also hoped that it would be helpful for others who were struggling with various issues.

I have had many people message me since beginning of my journey.  Most people express how much my positivity, honesty, and faith have helped inspire them to slow down, gain perspective, and be better.  Others message me and share their stories of personal struggle and extend their appreciation to me for being brave enough to share my story so publicly.  I had yet to have someone contact me that has my exact condition though.

Until today.  I woke up this morning to an email from a women whose daughter suffered from a bleed due to a cavernoma malformation in the Pons of her brain stem in February.  We have the exact same condition.  (I have not asked for permission to share her story so I will not be discussing the specifics of it.)  I read the email and my first feeling was heartbreak.  I could instantly relate to her.  Without her even mentioning it, I immediately understood every fear, worry, emotion, and struggle she was experiencing.  It broke my heart to know that there was a beautiful young woman out there suffering from this condition.  It just simply isn't fair.  It's not fair that me, or anyone else, has to live with this.

My next feeling was gratitude.  I was so grateful that she had stumbled across my blog as she was researching her daughter's condition.  I was glad that it had been helpful to her and that they were finding some answers.  I still remember researching on my own.  Everything I found was terrifying.  Until I found Lisanne's blog, Windless Dandelion Wishes.  She also had my condition and had recently had surgery to remove it.  She was honest about her experience, but best of all, positive about it.  She also knew and wrote of others like us.  I still remember reading it and finally feeling hope and relief.  Most of all, I didn't feel alone anymore.  To know that my blog did that for someone is so personally gratifying, but more importantly, I am so overjoyed that someone else is learning that they can survive this and they are not alone.  Those feelings in themselves are so powerful in dealing with the many daily struggles that accompany this illness.

I wrote a Facebook post announcing my condition when I found out about my CM.  I ended that post by stating:

Do Better. Be Better. This was just a silly thing I said the day after my stroke that has blossomed in to something that I hold dear to my heart. Please take a minute to really think about what this means to you in your life. Be the good in this world. It needs a few more people to shine a light. Shine yours bright.

I feel as though this blog is helping me shine my light.  This is just the beginning though.  I don't want my light to be a flashlight, I want it to be the light of a lighthouse! ;).  Be a lighthouse with me.

Six Month Anniversary and Transitioning to a Mom of FOUR!

It has been six months since my stroke and 2 1/2 weeks since Myah was born.  I feel like my world has once again been flipped upside down and turned on its side.  Unlike six months ago, it has been 100 % for the better this time.  Don't get me wrong; I am a better person since my stroke.  Jamie 2.0 was an upgrade in many different ways.  The birth of Myah, though, has been a blessing; almost a triumph in a weird way.

I have not really noticed any improvements in my stroke symptoms the last month.  My family and friends still tell me that the tracking of my right eye is becoming more and more normal.  I think I may be able to go down in prism strength at my next eye appointment on May 19 because I am seeing many of the lines in the prism again like I have in the past when the strength was lowered.  I still see double without my prism though.  My stiffness, fine motor function, and sensation have all remained the same.  I attempted to jog the other day and my leg felt like it weighed 100 lbs.  Plus, when I fatigue, I get even more stiff.

The greatest change has been in my overall comfort level.  It is amazing how much more agile I am now that I no longer am pregnant.  My balance is much improved and my energy level is up.  I can sleep on either side, my back, and my tummy so I am getting much more of a restful sleep.  I no longer have debilitating heart burn or pain from how she was situated inside the womb.  Plus, I just feel normal again which is huge for my confidence.

My neurosurgeon, Dr. Lanzino, came to visit us when we were at Mayo.  He was very impressed with my improvements and was optimistic about my condition.  He prescribed a MRI at the end of the summer to monitor my CM.  When we asked him if I had any restrictions, he responded, none at all.  I, of course, asked about doing Next Level again.  He laughed and said, "From one extreme to the next!  You have no restrictions, but just listen to your body."  He then told us that there is nothing harder on a body than being with child and I had done that amazingly well.  In my head I thought, "You haven't done Next Level!"  Now that I have recovered from the C-section and am shrinking in size, I 100% agree with that statement.  I cannot believe how much better I feel since delivering Myah and how much she was taking from me that I didn't even realize.

The last two and a half weeks haven't been free of struggle though.  First of all, the physical pain I was in from the C-section was stifling.  I could barely get in and out of bed, it hurt to cough, laugh, and sneeze, and even the slightest movements made me feel like my incision was ripping open.  My pain killers also gave me headaches which freaked me out.  I quickly stopped taking those and honestly felt much better without them in my system.  The pain from my incision also heightened my stroke symptoms.  Since I was so sore and sleep deprived, my left side became even more stiff.  My pronounced symptoms made me mental.  In the middle of the night, at my most exhausted, I would often worry about what would happen if I never improved or needed surgery.  I just couldn't turn my head off.  Even trying to focus on Myah and how blessed I was didn't help.  I was both physically and mentally weak.  To make matters worse, I was emotionally weak.  My C-section recovery had basically left me immobile which meant that Patrick was left to juggle the three older girls all on his own.  I felt worthless as a mother and a wife.  It was like having my stroke all over again.  All the insecurities came flooding back in.  I was a hot mess.

I admittedly have three major personality flaws.  I am stubborn as a bull, I am a control freak, and I NEVER ask for help.  I was so sore and tired, but did I let Patrick help with Myah at night?  Nope.  Why?  Simple - if I needed help, than I was failing.  Needing help meant that I wasn't capable.  If I wasn't capable, than I was sick.  I am sick, but I don't feel sick.  There is a huge difference.  Plus, like I mentioned earlier, I felt worthless.  The least I could do to help Patrick was let him sleep at night since he had to go to work.  But, my exhaustion and pain eventually got the best of me.  Like a mature adult, I would end up getting frustrated, wake Patrick up, and rudely tell him it was his turn.  Totally not his fault; like I said, I am too prideful to ask for help.  About a week after Myah was born, Patrick asked me if I would wanted to stop nursing Myah so he could help more and give me a break.  I realize that he did not say this to hurt me.  He knew I was struggling and this was the only way he could think of that would help me the most.  But, wow, it was like I was stabbed in the heart by that question.  Inside I felt like I was failing, now my husband thought it too?  Like I said, I know this is not what he thought.  But it is amazing how insecurities can twist your thoughts and perceptions of different situations.  Nursing Myah was the only thing I could do at that point.  What kind of a mother or a fighter was I if I was just going to give up on that too?

Eventually, I began to feel better.  I would say I woke up on Good Friday feeling infinitely stronger.  I now feel normal.  My incision looks awesome and my pain is completely gone.  As a result, my stroke symptoms are back in check.  My improved physical status has also brought me back to life mentally and emotionally.  I am no longer a hot mess.  I am focused on the beauty in my life and enjoy nightly feedings with Myah.  Yes, I am tired, but it is welcomed.  I am able to help with the girls and have begun to become more comfortable with venturing out with all four of them. I feel like I am their mother again.

So, how are we adjusting?  Life is crazy.  Life is loud.  Life is joyful.  Life is beautiful.  Patrick and I are tired, busy, and sometimes lose our patience but the simple things are just overwhelmingly blissful.  The way Seeri comforts her, Jaelyn sings to her, or the way Linden says, "Hi, Myah!," is just heart warming.  Myah has completed us and given us, especially me, hope.  Instead of worrying at night, I dream.  I dream about the future and what the girls will be like as women.  I picture Patrick and I growing old together and witnessing all the "firsts", weddings, and births of our grand babies.  I feel excited for the future instead of worried.

I have strived the last six months to "Do Better.  Be Better." for others and for myself.  Upon her birth, Myah instantly made the world better for me.  She continues to do so every day.  The little miracle that she is forces me to see the beauty in the world.  I don't think I will ever be able to ignore it again after everything I have been through the last six months.

Welcome Home Myah!

Patrick, Myah, and I right before checkout from Mayo.

After four days at Mayo it was finally time to come home.  We had enjoyed our bonding time as just the three of us.  Myah did AWESOME in the hospital.  She was eating well, sleeping soundly, and passed all of her assessments.  We were also lucky to have my our girls, my parents, and Patrick's brother's family from Minnesota come visit us and meet Myah.

Patrick, Myah, and I leaving the delivery floor at Mayo.

 We checked out of Mayo at 12:30 p.m. on Thursday, April 10.  The doctors gave us the option to leave on Wednesday since Myah and I were doing so well, but Patrick and I decided to stay to give me one more day to heal before heading home to the craziness of the girls.  We made the right decision.  I was still incredibly sore from the C-section when I woke up on Thursday and the two hour drive definitely proved that!  Having to sit up made me feel like I had a knife stabbing me in the tummy the entire time.  The rough winter roads made me want to cry.  Every bump would about send me through the roof.   I basically sat as still as a statue and tried to sleep.  I have now had both vaginal and cesarean deliveries.  I am so happy I only had to have one c-section!  I would never want to do it again.  Women who choose to have them are much stronger than me!

Rosie, Grandpa Smith, and the Minnesota Smith's meeting Myah.

We stopped in New Hampton to introduce Myah to Grandpa Smith and Aunt Rosie.  I couldn't even stand up straight when I got out of the van.  I was so stiff and my tummy felt like it was going to rip in half as I stood up.  Myah continued to do awesome though.  She slept as Saude and Rosie oodled over her.  They loved her name and complimented her great color, big lips, and skinny toes and fingers.

The big girls were not home from school yet when we got home.  We had about 45 minutes until they were going to arrive so I fed Myah to make sure she was happy and content.  I knew her sisters would all want to hold her when they got home.  And I was right!  Seeri was the first one to get home and she didn't even say hi to us when she walked in.  Instead, "Where is Myah?  Can I hold her?"  Jaelyn and Linden did the exact same thing.  So began what we call "Musical Myah."  Meaning that every night Seeri, Jaelyn, and Linden take turns holding her for short amounts of time for about an hour.  The big girls love this; Myah is not a fan!  She is very comfortable with Seeri and Jaelyn.  She is terrified of Linden.  Linden wants to kiss her every two seconds which is super cute.  But, she squeezes and scrunches her to reach her forehead and it hurts Myah.  So Patrick and I spend that entire time refereeing turn taking and reinforcing the rules of holding her.  It is chaos, but completely joyous at the same time.

Nathan and Ashley, Grandpa and Grandma Garbes, and Chelsea and Joe meeting Myah.

The Iowa City Smith's meeting Myah.

My side of the family came over to meet Myah the day we arrived home.  The Iowa City Smith's visited that Sunday.  The Stoler family (Patrick's sister's family) visited on Easter.  Everyone commented on her color and long and skinny fingers and toes.  Everyone agreed that she either looked like Seeri or Linden.  It has become pretty clear to me that the only trait my girls get from me is my lips!  

The Stoler's meeting Myah.

The first two nights at home were rough on Myah and I.  Myah was struggling with the new environment.  She was still eating and sleeping but only wanted to be held to sleep.  Obviously, that is not a comfy sleeping situation for me.  Plus, it is completely dangerous.

I had definitely felt better.  I could barely move, I was sleep deprived, and my breasts were sore.  I was emotionally exhausted.  It was one thing to take care of a newborn.  It was an entirely different beast to take care of a newborn, recover from a C-section, recover from a stroke, and take care of three kids under the age of six.  But, did I rest?  Nope.  Why?  Because I am an idiot.  I was up doing house chores and trying to do everything by myself.  By Saturday, my right ankle had swelled so badly that you could barely tell the difference between it and my calf.  Plus, I was so fatigued that my stroke symptoms became much more pronounced.  My left side became so much more stiff.  I still functioned the same, but felt much worse.  These new developments were enough to freak me out.  So I put myself on bed rest.  During the day I took numerous naps with my feet up and didn't allow myself to do anything except care for Myah and rest.  It worked.  By Monday my ankle was completely normal and my stroke symptoms were back in check.

Those first four days were less than ideal, especially physically.  But I was still on cloud nine.  My heart just overflows when I watch Patrick and the girls with her.  The girls are overbearing with Myah at times, but it is still the cutest thing to watch Seeri nurture her, Jaelyn beam with pride when she looks at her, and hear Linden call her name and smother her with kisses.  Watching Patrick with her about takes my breath away.  Every emotion is written all over his face; love, adoration, pride, joy.  All of this was worth all the pain and exhaustion I was feeling.  Unlike my stroke, I knew it would come to an end.  I just had to keep telling myself that I would be better in two weeks.  I just had to suck it up for two weeks.

No matter how crazy our life is , one thing remains certain; we are blessed beyond measure.

Myah's Birth Story

Our first picture as a family of six!  April 7, 2014

I woke up Sunday, April 6th feeling great, but ready to nest.  We were leaving for Mayo on Monday afternoon to deliver Myah on Tuesday morning, April 8th.  I had much on the to-do list that I needed to cross off first.

I made pancakes and had a relaxing breakfast with the family before going to church.  After church we went to the OPU for lunch.  We planned to go to Chuck E. Cheese after lunch, but we quickly turned around after we got there because it was so packed.  Once we got home we put Linden down for a nap and popped in "Smurfs 2" for Seeri and Jaelyn so that they would stay busy while we tackled the to-do list.  We cleaned the house from top to bottom and did loads of laundry in between.  Overall I felt great as we cleaned.  I had a lot of energy and was moving well. But, there was a few times when Myah would kick or position herself right on a nerve that would send a shooting pain down the inside of my legs and force me to stop dead in my tracks until she repositioned herself again.  This had been happening for a couple weeks and had happened with all my other girls during their pregnancies so it didn't worry me.

Once Linden woke up, we went back to Chuck E. Cheese.  We were there for an hour and I felt fine the whole time.  On the car ride home I started to experience some heartburn and feel uncomfortable in my belly.  I took a Zantac when I got home at 5:30 expecting it to help.  Usually, it takes about ten minutes after taking Zantac for my heartburn and stomach issues to disappear.  This time they didn't.  My heartburn disappeared a bit but my stomach issues were increasing.  Instead of feeling uncomfortable, I would now feel a tightening of my tummy.  It would feel rock hard to the touch and like a severe period cramp for about 30 seconds and then dissipate.  I was experiencing this about every 20 minutes.  I wouldn't classify them as painful, but they definitely were noticeable.

We continued to go on as normal.  We fed the girls, played, and put them to sleep by 7:30.  I didn't have a big supper for fear of agitating my heartburn so Patrick ran and got me a McDonald's strawberry banana smoothie instead.  By 7:30, I was starting to wonder if I was laboring and if the tightening I was feeling was contractions.  After all, I was due in five days.  I went to the bathroom and ended up losing my mucous plug.  When I had Seeri my water broke two hours after I lost my mucous plug, so Patrick and I called my parents to put them on alert.  However, by the time the phone call ended they decided to come immediately and we decided we were leaving for Rochester.  I called my friend to come watch the girls until they got there.  Luckily, we had everything packed so all we had to do was load the van.  We were on the road by 8:45.

Once I got in the van I started timing my contractions.  They were fifteen minutes apart.  We met my parents at the Casey's off of Airline Hwy to give them hugs and then were officially on the way.  We had a two hour drive ahead of us.  My contractions were seven minutes apart by the time we had gone 45 minutes north and were by New Hampton.  My contractions were five minutes apart by the time we hit Spring Valley which is 30 minutes from Rochester.

Patrick drove 85 the whole way up to Rochester.  We were lucky that is was late on a Sunday night.  The traffic was light, so other than dealing with some rain, the drive was easy.  We were silent the whole way other than me announcing my contractions.  I am pretty sure we were both praying that we weren't going to have Myah on the side of the road!  I was also praying that my C-section was going to go well and that I wouldn't bleed again.  I just closed my eyes, remained still, and tried to relax through the contractions.  When we hit New Hampton we called the hospital to ask if we should go straight there to check in or go to the hotel.  They told us that we should only come in if my contractions were 3-5 minutes apart and painful and advised us to go to the hotel.  We hit Stewartville, which is ten minutes south of Rochester, and my contractions were five minutes apart.  I was definitely uncomfortable but I wasn't in pain.  (Patrick and I have since decided that I must have a very high pain tolerance!).  We called the hospital again and this time told them to expect us because we were coming whether they wanted us to or not!  We pulled up to the Charlton building at 10:40, left our van in the horseshoe entrance, and had security buzz us in.  My contractions were about 3 minutes apart but I denied Patrick's request to get me a wheelchair.  I walked, through contractions, to the delivery unit (One of these days I will stop being so stubborn and prideful--I realize I am pretty stupid!).

I was so incredibly nervous and scared.  I did not know what to expect during the C-section.  What would I feel?  Would I be able to handle the stress?  Will Myah be healthy?  How sore am I going to be after?  I had millions of things going through my head.  The hospital staff was so calm and efficient.  They were all GSD!  Dr. Gill told me not to worry because, "they do this everyday."  To which I responded, "yeah, but I don't."  They all laughed but I am so mad at myself for saying that....seriously, how rude of me?  But, it was what I was thinking and it just flew out of me.

Luckily, pre-delivery moved along extremely quick.  In the matter of 45 minutes I had been admitted, checked for dilation (I was dilated to a 4), spoke with anesthesia, gotten an IV, spoke with the delivering doctor, and had fetal monitors put on.  By 11:40, I walked (yes, still stubborn) back to the OR.  Patrick had to stay in the recovery room until I was prepped and the doctors were ready.  In those 25 minutes, I received my spinal tap, got secured in to the bed straps, and hooked up to all the necessary monitors.  The spinal tap was no joke.  By the time the doctor said, "were done, lay down", I couldn't even move my legs on my own.  It literally activated that fast.  The doctor checked to make sure I was properly numb by poking me with a sharp object to assess what I could and couldn't feel.  Patrick said those 25 minutes alone in that room were the longest of his life.  For me, they were so fast!

They called Patrick in after I was strapped in and at the appropriate numbness level.  At this point, I was starting to feel a bit nauseous.  I am sure it was probably from the medicine.  The doctors must have expected that; they practically read my mind and asked me if I was two minutes after I even thought it.  They pumped some nausea medicine through my IV and I instantly started feeling pressure everywhere in my head.  I started to panic.  My mind instantly started thinking the worst.  "This is it.  I have made it all this way and now I am going to bleed again.  I am not going to see Myah's birth.  This is it."  Right at that moment is when Patrick got to the room and grabbed my hand.  The first thing I said to him was, "I feel a lot of pressure in my head."  Quite a welcome, huh?  The anesthesiologist heard me.  I am not sure if he gave me meds at that point or not.  Patrick squeezed my left hand, put his right hand on my cheek, kissed my forehead, and told me I was going to be fine and he was here.  I was freaking out.  I had another one of those moments where I had to make a choice.  Succumbing to my fear was going to get me nowhere.  If I did that I was going to miss Myah's birth.  Her birth would become exactly what I didn't want it to.  So, I told Patrick that I was just going to close my eyes and breathe through it.  He squeezed my hand and told me my heart rate was at 68.  Before I knew it, the pressure had subsided and the doctors were telling Patrick to stand up because Myah was on her way.  It probably took five minutes from the time they made the incision to the time Myah was born.

She started crying as soon as she came out.  Patrick looked at her quick and immediately sat back down and kissed my forehead.  We were both crying so hard we were shaking.  She was here.  She was healthy.  I had done it.  I was okay.  They gave me a quick peek and then ushered her and Patrick to the baby station.  All I could see was the blue sheet in front of me and the anesthesiologists eyes when he would lean in to ask how I was or tell me that I was doing great.  I closed my eyes and listened to the nurses and Patrick fuss over Myah.  I reveled in their exclamations about all her dark hair, her long, skinny toes and fingers, how we chose her name, etc.  I felt nothing more than gentle tugging during the surgery.  The spinal tap definitely worked.  My fears all subsided after Myah was out.  I no longer cared what happened to me from there out.  I had delivered Myah and she was healthy.  I was on cloud nine.  Nothing else mattered.  For a while, I was just Jamie 1.0 again.

Five minutes after she was born they brought her over to lay on my chest.  She remained there up until the last five minutes of my surgery.  I was in heaven.  Everything around me, other than Patrick and Myah, just disappeared.  Patrick and I talked to her, rubbed her back, and kissed her forehead.  We debated over who she looked like and had moments of silence where we just held hands and stared at her.  It was absolutely perfect.  We had made it.  All the months of "what if's" were finally put to rest.  Not only was it time to move on, but now we really could.

My C-section and tubal ligation only took 46 minutes from start to finish.  All the doctors joked about how Dr. Gill had set a new record.  They all shook our hands, offered congratulations, and complimented me on how well I had done.  I was wheeled back to the recovery room where we remained for two hours until being transferred to our permanent home.  I couldn't move my legs; it was like I was paralyzed from the waist down.  I was super sore.  Side note: C-sections are no joke.  Women who have had one or multiple ones are literally my heroes.  But that didn't stop me from snuggling with Myah.

I fed her for the first time; she was a natural.  I just couldn't get enough of her.  I had dreamed of this moment for so long and I was in disbelief that it was actually here.  It could have turned out so many different ways, but God provided for us.  Her birth was beautiful, joyful, and a blessing.  She was absolutely gorgeous.  She has my big lips, has great color, deep blue eyes, and tons of dark black hair.  I just stared at her, tickled her cheek, and rubbed her back.  I finally shared her with Patrick until his brother, Tom, arrived.

By the time we got to our permanent room, I was starting to get feeling back in my legs.  We got settled and I told Patrick that I wanted to try to feed her again before going to sleep.  She wasn't interested in eating, so I laid her on my chest.  The next thing I knew it was 8:00 in the morning and we had slept like that all night.  I woke up feeling like the last five months were finally over.  We were given this precious gift that was going to help us heal and move on.  I nuzzled her in under my neck and just cried.  I was so, so happy.  We really were going to be okay.

We called my parents and asked them if they would be willing to bring the girls up with them to meet Myah.  Initially, my parents were going to come alone.  I am so glad they agreed to bring them.  We told them her name and they loved it because they had friends named Myah. ;). I can't even put in to words what I felt as I watched them hold her, kiss her, and call her by her name.  They were just beaming with excitement.  Seeri wanted to hold her every other minute.  Jaelyn wanted to kiss her every other minute.  Linden wanted to rub her head every other minute.  Everyone just wanted to be with her.  Myah was infectious.

 

Myah is now nearly three days old.  Patrick and I have enjoyed spending time alone together and with her.  She has been an amazing baby so far.  She sleeps and eats well.  She is incredibly laid back and spends a lot of time with her eyes wide open.  She is definitely a snuggle bug.  We are probably spoiling her by as much as we are holding her, but I don't think either of us really cares.  There was a time when we weren't sure we would ever have these moments.  Now that we do, we are never going to pass them up.

Please Welcome Myah Grace!

The day has finally come....a day early!  We had a very eventful Sunday night and Monday morning, but baby girl #4 has arrived!  Surprise; her name is not actually Pajamie! ;)

Patrick and I went back and forth between two different names during the pregnancy.  We picked a name within a month of finding out we were expecting.  However, when I had my stroke we decided that we would like to try to name her in remembrance of the journey.  We wanted the name to be something that honored all the triumphs we have had and represent the strength and fight she already possesses.

Picking a middle name was easy.  It was literally by the grace of God that her and I are still here.  Her middle name just had to be Grace.

Picking a first name was a bit tougher.  There just wasn't much to draw inspiration from.  I mentioned in an earlier blog post that I have grown to love the verse Jeremiah 29:11.  I used to have this verse handwritten and posted on our fridge until I had it professionally reproduced and framed.  One morning I was sitting at the kitchen island eating my Lucky Charms and looked up to read it.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares The Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  Jeremiah 29:11

It just hit me.  This verse is what I wanted our daughter's name to emulate.  Her name is short for Jeremiah, but I of course had to get a little creative with the spelling. ;)

With much love in our hearts, Patrick and I would like to introduce you to...

Myah Grace Smith
Born on April 7, 2014
12:07 a.m.
7 lbs. 7 oz.
20 1/2"

This single moment is what I have so fiercely been fighting for over the last five months.  God is good and we are beyond blessed to be under his wings.

Anxiously Awaiting Pajamie's Arrival

20 weeks, 27 weeks, 32 weeks, 35 weeks

On Tuesday morning, April 8, 2014, Pajamie will finally arrive.  I am so incredibly excited and so incredibly frightened at the same time.  I am not worried for Pajamie, but rather I am scared for myself.  She is not the one that is sick; I am.

Our last two appointments at Mayo have been about the specifics of delivery.  The medicine I will receive to block pain messages to my brain, every detailed minute of before, during, and after the C-section, the type of care her and I will receive should any problem arise, etc.  My doctors and anesthesiologists believe that Pajamie's birth will be no different than any other healthy full-term birth.  They tell me over and over again that she is healthy and that I am healthy and strong.  That the C-section will be a breeze.

36 weeks, 37 weeks, 38 weeks

But every time they explain something to me or fill me in on all of the possible scenarios, I just freak out inside.  Two appointments ago the doctor was giving me a pretty detailed minute to minute account of the C-section.  The entire time I didn't think about Pajamie once.  How awful is that?  What kind of mother am I if I don't think about my daughter?  All I could think was, "Is that going to be the point in time where my CM bleeds again?"  Pajamie is not the problem.  I know they will deliver her smoothly and she will do amazing.  I am the problem.  What if I can't stay calm enough and fail to regulate my heart rate and blood pressure?  What if the medication in the spinal tap triggers a bleed?  Will those things plus the stress of a surgery be enough to upset my CM?  I became so overwhelmed during the appointment that I think I had my first ever panic attack.  I started to sweat, my heart was racing, and I had to get up and leave abruptly.  When I came back I told everyone that we were not allowed to talk specifics anymore.  I just need to go in to tomorrow blind and clueless.

39 weeks

If I have learned anything on this journey it is that having mental strength is 99.9% of recovery.  So, I have decided that I am just going to have to hand it over to God like I did the night of my stroke.  I will close my eyes, think about all the good in my life, and focus on the feeling of Patrick's hand in mine.  This birth should not be something that is clouded by fear.  I should be bursting with excitement and joy and I am going to try my best to make sure that is the experience that Pajamie, Patrick, and I share together.  I want to be able to tell her someday how beautiful her birth was.  How excited and overjoyed her father and I were.  I am determined for that to be the story we are able to share with her someday.


To my littlest peanut:
It's you and me girl.  We have waited nine very long and challenging months to meet each other.  I cannot wait to look into your baby blues, kiss your cheek, rub the soft skin of your back, and have you nuzzle in under my neck.  I am eager for the moment when your Daddy lays his eyes on you for the first time and you instantly wrap him around your little finger.  I am excited for your sisters to meet you and immediately start fighting about who gets to hold you first; that happy noise that comes with us uniting as a family of six.  We will forever share the bond of this journey and I cannot wait to tell you everyday as you grow up how much of a little warrior you are.  I promise to forever protect, guide, and support you. You are loved more than you will ever know.

Our last picture together as just the four girls.  (Sunday, April 6)

Seeri and Linden saying hello to their sister.

It was a highlight of every day for your big sister's to rip a ring off of your countdown chain!

Our countdown chain.  The pink one was decorated by Seeri and the yellow one by Jaelyn.  Linden supervised! ;-)

Happy 70th Birthday P.E.S.!

Today is a special day of remembrance in our household.  Patrick's mom, Patricia Eileen Seery Smith, would have celebrated her 70th birthday today.  Breast cancer claimed her at a young age, but I am sure she watches over us everyday from Heaven.

I never got the chance to meet her so I cannot speak of her first hand.  However, I know she was an amazing woman.  How?  She raised four incredible children, one of which I am lucky enough to call my husband.  Kelli, Jon, Tom, and Patrick are the most kind, compassionate, and selfless people I know.  Her time with them was too short, but yet she made a huge impact on them and raised them right.  Speaking from a mother's perspective; one that may too be different than how I initially envisioned it, I realize how monumental of a task that really is.  To try to fit everything in that your want your children to know, learn, and be in a shortened time is such a great and important task.  I admire her for that.

I also know that she is my personal guardian angel.  I know that she has been with me, with us, every last minute of this journey.  I pictured her standing by my hospital bed, riding in the helicopter, and walking beside me with her hands ready to catch me as I completed all of my therapy.  I imagined her hugging Patrick to give him strength as he comforted me.  I have no doubt that she will be there with us next Tuesday as we welcome Pajamie into our family.

I will meet her someday in Heaven.  I dream of that moment being one of pure joy and appreciation for her.  I hope that she will love me and be proud to call me her daughter-in-law.  Until that moment, I will try everyday to honor her for being my guardian angel.