To have and to hold

 Many times on this blog I have spoken of how fortunate I am to have the Vicar. I've spoken about how he embodies our marriage vows. How he took "in sickness and in health, in good times and bad" to heart. How he rarely complains and does things with great love, patience, and empathy. Well, buckle up cause another volume is coming your way. 

Through the last month, he has yet again been the rock and solid foundation upon which our family leverages itself. Without complaint or even a deep sigh, he has taken care of all 6 of us for over a month. When I was unexpectedly hospitalized he organized help and made sure things ran smoothly. He has spent countless hours managing the crew, doing shopping, feeding, and shodding everyone. He makes sure I take my meds on time. He makes sure I eat and drink. He has shouldered this load with grace and tenderness. He demands that I rest and recover. I know he's been tired but he never complains. Even though he missed out on a nice relaxing Father's Day he focused on his flock and our littles. Y'all, I truly don't know if I deserve him but I'm glad I have him. 

Often I tell our children that when they are grown up and looking for a partner, look for someone like their Dad. Someone who loves and respects them. For someone who doesn't see things as 50/50 but who believes that a partnership is 100/100. Find someone who will wash clothes, clean up vomit, stay up all night with you when you don't feel well, who will sleep on a hard chair because doing so means they can watch over you, someone who will know what makes you happy and tirelessly tries to bring that each day. In addition, they should try to embody those qualities as well. Love is great but commitment is just as important. Building a life with someone is so much more than just love. 

Once again, Vicar, I'm so blessed and fortunate to have you as my partner. My most beloved coworker. I wouldn't have achieved nearly as much in this life without your unending support, cheering me on, and your ability and willingness to always be reliable and consistent. I hope you know how much you are loved and appreciated! 

Showing up

 Several years ago I had a student who told me she just wanted to quit. She didn’t want to do things anymore. I told her she wasn’t required to do anything except show up. Show up, God and the universe will take care of the rest. Just.show.up. Keep showing up. 

Today I woke up at a full pity party. Why is my recovery so hard? Why couldn’t my recovery be uncomplicated and painless? Why couldn’t I be farther in my healing? Why have I been chosen to have this? What did I do? So many whys. So many tears and pains. Definitely forgetting that God doesn’t cause or prevent these things. Losing sight that through our best and worst days, God sits with us. Much like our parents or partner or friends do. Holding our hands. Holding the throw-up bag. Wiping our faces. Getting us water. Crying with us. And conversely shouting with joy and thanksgiving with us. Cheering us on in our victories. Crying tears of pride and happiness with us. God, she sits with us through every moment. 

At one point I was gravely ill. I’ve been near septic several times and this time I actually was. My white blood cell count was off the charts. I was getting antibiotics every 4 hours, and all kinds of supplemental nutrition via IV, and things weren’t good. Very rarely does the Vicar get really worried but he was. I could see it on his face. I would gaze over and I could see him actively in prayer. I know it literally broke him to leave him to come back and take care of our babies but he held a brave face and let me know that everything would be ok. He sent me pictures of our children and made sure that he checked in frequently. That night alone, it was a really rough one. Lots of talking between me and our creator. Lots of tears. Lots of asking why. Crying and moving and self-pep talks. To say the scaries didn't creep in would be a lie. I did wonder if death would be worse than this. I sat with that for a good 12 hours and as the song says, "Even if you are not prepared for the day, it cannot always be night", SO MUCH TRUTH. The sun rose again and I watched it from my window at Midland Memorial. That was the first day that I literally got on my knees, IV poles and all, and said I was ready to make the steps and do what was needed to get myself back to my kids, the vicar, my students, friends, and family. Even if that meant another surgery. More meds, more hospital stays. I prayed and prayed. And when I opened my eyes, the sun was a beautiful shade of golden yellow. Radiant. I woke up to texts from dear friends telling me they loved me. My husband and my children. The prayers I prayed were like poems to myself and the answer was "with God's help." That morning the surgeon came in and said that my white blood cell count was trending down towards normal and we were going in the right direction. 

Through the last few days our friends, from around the country descended physically, spiritually, and emotionally for us. Corrie and Olivia, I have no words. Y'all saved us. Thank you. Ricky, you saw me at probably the worst. And the space you held, sacred. Thank you. Lacey, driving from Dallas, spent the night on an awful couch to be my advocate, to ensure Christian didn't catch some hands, to make me laugh, and to bring me back to my family. Love you big. Jamie, offering to come and support our family, Tricia, for the same. Both advocating from afar, your love is precious. We will see each other when it isn't an emergency. The overflow of texts and messages from students (past and present) thank you! Friends, near and far. Love you. 

Finally, to the vicar and the kids, y'all are the reason I found the sun again. I love you more than words could ever accurately describe. This week has been scary and terrible. It has also brought us tighter and closer to each other. I love you all. Mama will be back to 100%, maybe not for a while but I'll get there cause if nothing else, I'm a tough broad who has always done what she says she will. I love you. Don't ever forget that. Love comes in so many forms. 

So until I'm healed, imma focus on showing up. The sun will keep rising. I'm gonna look for the sun. 

The smells, sounds, and all that those hold (warning: mention of child accident, burns, mental health)

 Yesterday I was taking part in my fellowship program. Part of the program includes going through case studies and reflecting on how to work with the clients in the study. Now, this is something I do with my own students, a lot. I believe that case studies are low-stakes, high-learning opportunities. They allow us to learn and grow as clinicians without the risk of harming our clients. After my first semester of teaching I realized that although we were sheltering patients and clients, I also had a responsibility to shield my students, prepare them, and most importantly empower them to speak up and or step away from situations and studies that may have a direct impact on them. As a professor, I have no way of knowing what my students may have been exposed to and their life experiences, and if they don't tell me (which they are always free to do but never mandated to do) I am somewhat flying into clouds. I began giving warnings and permission for them to step out, give me a heads up, and opportunities to debrief post-work if they needed it. I have had several/many students come to me and we have worked through difficult cases. I am transparent with them that sometimes you will walk into situations that will catch you off guard and you will need to push the professional wall forward and manage yourself until the session ends or you can safely transfer care to someone else while you gather yourself. It has happened to me a handful of times. It's hard but it is reality. But, in learning environments, you can and should always be able to tap out. My students are welcome to do so. It does not make me think any less of them, in fact, it makes me respect them. They know their limits. They realize when their objectivity is clouded and they need help to learn how to manage that. That is my job. 

Yesterday I was completely caught off guard. The learning case had to do with a child who was in a burn unit. Immediately I was taken back to when the littlest PK was burned. The sounds of his screams that wouldn't stop, the smell of his flesh, the pain, I will never forget those things and they all came rushing back to me. Unfortunately, there was no way for me to tap out. Eventually, I left the session and I spent most of the rest of the day reliving the horror and grounding myself in what is current and true. The event with him happened over 2 years ago but in those moments it was right in front of me. I sought out a dear friend who sat with me as I comforted my son. She helped me process, as did the Vicar. Today, I sought help from my own mental health care provider. I'm managing and it will be okay.

The inability to tap out and to be so triggered by yesterday has made me realize I have to be more diligent in caring for my students. I have to be willing to anticipate their needs and how certain aspects of training might affect them. And when I fail to do so, I have to be immediately willing to help support them. I need to apologize for my part. I have to process and do better. I have to remember that the onus of psychological safety always sits with me as their teacher. I have to walk that tenuous line of preparing and protecting. I have to ensure they know that I will be the one to help and do better. 

If you are one of my previous students and you were ever put in a situation like this and I was responsible for your teacher, I am sorry. I know that isn't enough but it's the start. If you want to reach out to me, I am here. If you ever wondered if I knew, I probably didn't but I apologize and hope that you know that it was never intentional. I am getting better every day and you have my word, I will do better. 

Here is to doing and being better every day. 

11 days and counting

 On May 24th, at about 11am I had one of the 5 best naps I've ever had. I was put under to have gastric sleeve surgery. This was a decision that was not made lightly and was made with the intention of reducing my weight primarily to prevent further degradation of my joints in my lower body, prevent the development of hypertension and or diabetes, and coming in dead last, to feel better about my body image. If you know me, being fluffy hasn't ever really bothered me. I was surrounded by women with soft curves and generous bodies. Their hugs and strong bodies that did amazing things made me not afraid of being a bigger person and taking up space. Also, I love food. I love the sensory experience it provides and it is delicious. I wanted to be healthier but my version of health didn't necessarily mean a significantly smaller body size. In fact, the journey to being approved for this procedure was made more difficult because aside from my fabulous fluffiness, I am very healthy! I have blood pressure that is textbook normal. My A1c is superb. My lung function is better than most, thankful for all of those years as a competitive swimmer and soccer player. 

I began having some mobility challenges this last year and so began a cycle of having a lot of pain with required mobility and not really being able to exercise or move my body and because of that, my weight crept up. My mental health was suffering and after lots of soul-searching, I made the decision to begin the process. I saw dieticians, psychiatrists, counselors, and all sorts of specialists, and finally had my consult with a surgeon. After that, it was back and forth with the insurance. As we oscillated between the procedure being covered and not covered I also oscillated between wanting to do the surgery and not. I was honest with myself and a few close friends who helped me discern the way through. Finally, in mid-April, I went for my final consult and we scheduled surgery. 

In order to prep my body for surgery I had to go on a completely liquid diet from May 11th until the day of surgery. Y'all, that is not for the faint of heart or non-committed. I've never felt more brain fog, exhaustion, or emotions in my life. This is required so that your liver can shrink making it easier for the surgeon to reach your stomach. I made it. The day before surgery a dear friend drove and picked me up and we stayed overnight near the hospital. I wanted to bathe in the queso she was eating, I sipped on my water with lime. 

The morning of she prayed with me, anointed me, and generally held my hand as I stood firm in one of the most difficult life decisions I've ever made. She gave me a hug as they rolled me out of the room and I could feel her presence with me as I anxiously waited in the pre-op area. When my doctor came around for a pre-op consult I told him, one goal, going in alive, and coming out the same way. And before I knew it, I was sleeping. I woke up in recovery and although I was very tired and my BP was doing wonky stuff, I was doing ok. The next thing I knew I was in the post-surgical recovery room I had been in that morning and the Vicar and Corrie were standing over me and it was glorious to wake up. Soon I was up and walking. I was discharged home around 5pm that day. 

Recovery was rough those first few days. I stayed medicated and soon realized, well let us be honest, the Vicar realized I was not doing well and made me go to the ER on Memorial Day. I was in fact, very sick. A raging kidney infection/UTI and severely dehydrated. But some IV antibiotics and fluids and your girl was back in the saddle. Around 5 days post op I started to feel like myself again. I still had some incisional pain but I was up and around. In those early days, I was humbled. Having to ask the Vicar, and at one point, our oldest PK to help me to the bathroom, it was hard but as I always hoped, they did so with love, and respect, and were glad to help. Y'all, maybe we are doing this parenting thing right after all. 

As I start to close in on 2 weeks post-op, I am learning how to refeed myself. I'm still fatigued but I'm doing more each day and I'm learning how to trust my body again. One of the most amazing things post-op, I have not had one iota of pain in my joints. And honestly, if nothing else happens, that in itself would be worth it. I am losing weight. I can see it on my face. I can see it in my body. However, I'm focused on how I feel. 

As I sit and write this I am so grateful for my family, framily, friends, colleagues, and God for bringing me through this. This was a major surgery. I am grateful for phone calls, and texts, for the Vicar taking time from work, for my kids being gentle, and for those near and far praying for and looking out for me. I'm grateful for Corrie standing in as my responsible person so the Vicar could go to end-of-school things for the PKs. I'm grateful for Denise coming and watching the kids so the Vicar could be there to bring me home. I'm thankful for Cara making sure I had meds when I got home. Y'all, it was humbling to see people care about me in this way. 

I'm proud of myself for making this choice. The recovery is just getting started but I chose to do something that really, is primarily for me. So as I continue on this journey I hope to share bits and pieces of it here. If you've gone through this, are contemplating this, or love someone who has gone through this, I'm here. I'm transparent. This was never "the easy way out". Believe me, this is the best and one of the hardest things I've done in my life. 

A great big thank you again to everyone. Love y'all. Now to go drink some damn water, that's your reminder to do so too!