This is all about my life parenting two crazy boys and our day to day adventures we call life. I'm a Christian, semi-crunchy mama (I prefer the term "crispy"). I have been abundantly blessed with an amazing family, and wonderful friends.
photo by Surely Sweet Photography
Changing Diapers: the Hip Mom's Guide to Modern Cloth Diapering
My heart is breaking right now, for someone I barely know.
A friend, who I've only met a couple times in real life, lost her husband this weekend. He was a police officer, on his way home from work. He was on his motorcycle, and hit by a drunk driver.
As soon as I read about it on facebook, the tears started flowing. I've never met him, but they have 3 young children. She is a stay at home mom. He was in a motorcycle accident, caused by someone else. I guess it just hit close to home.
While it brought back memories of our accident, and was a reminder of just how blessed we were, that isn't why my heart aches for her. I immediately thought about how I would feel if it were Ryan. That ache in my heart that would never go away. Having to tell the kids (probably multiple times) that they would never see their daddy again. How would I go through each day with this terrible yearning for a life that could have been? The inevitable question of Why?! Why him? Why me? Why do our kids have to live the rest of their lives without their father?
That is why my heart breaks for her, their kids, and their entire family. That is why I have been, and will continue to pray for them.
At church Sunday morning, just hours after hearing about my friend's horrible loss, a man asked about my motorcycle tattoo. He rides, but said his wife doesn't really like it, so he's considering stopping. After I mentioned our accident, and that I haven't been on the bike since, he said "Why should you?" He pointed out that if something were to happen, it would be both parents that their kids would lose.
I told him of my friend who just lost her husband. I told him I don't ever want to be in her shoes. That is a pain that I never want to know, a pain I don't want my kids to know. But I also told him I would ride again.
In today's world, just going to a movie can get you killed by a senseless act of violence. People are killed each day in motor vehicle accidents (motorcycles or not). High winds can cause an 18 wheeler to fall on your car. Going to school doesn't guarantee safety, as we learned after Columbine and countless other school shootings. Ryan's job has the potential for a fatal accident. Even staying at home, there can be an electrical fire. People get sick (Ryan himself is a cancer survivor). Our daily routines are never 100% safe.
I have often thought about telling Ryan that as long as we have young kids, he can't ride. I've thought about never riding again. Almost everyone asks me if I'll get on another bike. My answer has always been "Yes, I will."
I do not want to live my life in fear, for that is no life at all. I will ride a motorcycle again, with Ryan. When? I can't answer that. I do know there will be some amount of fear involved, I'm not going to lie. The few times Ryan has gone on his bike alone has had me worried.
But I refuse to let my fear win. I will continue to live my life. I will use our story as a testament to God's mercy, love, protection, and grace. (Side note: You should read the article, "So you STILL think God is a merciful God?!")
If He calls me Home before (what us humans think is) "my time", then so be it. I know in my heart I will see my family again. But I will live this life He has created for me until that day comes. Because He lives, so will I.
"Because He lives I can face tomorrow. Because He lives, all fear is gone! Because I know He holds the future. And life is worth the living just because He lives!"
Please pray for my friend who lost her husband, their 3 children, and their entire family.
Lord, I pray for my friend, their children, and their entire family. I pray they feel the comfort, strength, and peace that only You can provide. I pray they allow Your people to help them through this terrible time. Please be with their friends, who will be Your hands to hold them, Your shoulder to cry on, Your feet to help them, Your arms to lift them up. Lord, drive all fear and anger from their hearts, so they are able to hold onto the loving memories of a loving husband, father, brother, son, cousin, and friend. Help ease their pain, but never forget. Help them to feel Your presence today, this week, this month, the first holidays, and every day of their lives as they miss him. Help them to know that they can face tomorrow, and that life is worth living, just because You live. Amen.
Because He Lives
(Verse 1)
God sent his son
They called him Jesus
He came to love
Heal and forgive
He lived and died
To buy my pardon
An empty grave
Is there to prove
My Savior lives
(Chorus) Because he lives I can face tomorrow Because he lives All fear is gone Because I know He holds the future And life and is worth the living Just because he lives
(Verse 2)
How sweet to hold
A newborn baby
And feel the pride
And joy he gives
But greater still
The calm assurance
This child can face
Uncertain days
Because he lives
(Chorus)
(Verse 3) And then one day I'll cross the river I'll fight life's fi- Nal war with pain And then as death Gives way to victory I'll see the lights Of glory and I'll know he lives
I wasn't sure how I would feel today. And I'm still not quite sure. I actually wrote most of this a few days ago because I wasn't sure if the words would come to me today. But actually sharing this post is more difficult than I thought it would be....
One year ago this morning we woke up, not knowing what the day would bring. We went through our day, our normal Saturday routine. We were excited for our date night. The kids were excited their Nonnie and Pops were coming to babysit.
One year ago today our lives were forever changed. It took only an instant. But that instant will last a lifetime.
What a difference a day makes.
I just re-read the post I wrote about 4 months after the accident detailing the events of that night. It was hard to read. I think even harder than writing it. That night changed everything. That night....
April 16, 2011.
A date that I will never forget. I've spent a lot of time reflecting over the events of the last year. The good times, and the bad. There has been pain, both physical and emotional. A total of 6 surgeries, and bad reactions to the anesthesia and pain meds. Nearly 6 months of painful physical therapy. And it's not over. I return to the doctor next week to check the fibula fracture, which I don't think is fully healed. There have been hard times with the kids, as they tried to process what happened. There has been anger, sadness, grieving, frustration. Mostly, there has been a lot of change. The reality that my leg will never be the same. Learning to deal with the chronic pain, and the fact that I can't do as much as I used to.
Despite all of that, the moments that stand out most to me are good ones.
Riley coming to visit me on Easter at the hospital. He brought me some of his candy, and a bunny for me to sleep with.
My family and friends who were there for our family.
The meals that were brought to our house.
My mom moving in with us for 5 months, even though it was difficult on my parents (she had to quit her job, and my dad had to pack, move, and unpack on his own).
The prayers and support from people I've never even met.
The flowers from the family of the girl who hit us that I received in the hospital.
Encouraging words, thanking me for sharing our story.
Learning to forgive.
Riley and Eli celebrating birthdays, and growing closer each day. And yes, this includes fighting more, but they are best friends. Riley told me so.
Our niece being born (Ryan's sis and her hubby's baby).
Going to visit my brother, sister-in-law, and my niece in California.
Ryan and I spending our 5 year wedding anniversary in San Antonio, kid free.
Thanksgiving, when we had so much to be thankful for. Truly thankful.
Christmas morning. I remember sitting there so incredibly thankful that I was able to see the pure joy on my kid's faces.
Being able to celebrate a New Year.
My 30th Birthday! Yes, I have good memories of turning 30.
Another trip to visit my brother and his daughter in California. Only this time his wife was deployed to Afghanistan. :( But we had a fun trip to Sea World, the beach, and enjoyed watching the cousins play together!
Shopping for baseball gloves with the boys. They had to try on the pink helmets, too. ;)
Getting a new tattoo. I wanted something to represent our accident, something that forever changed our lives. Ever since I've known Ryan, I have always said a quick prayer when he rides (whether I was with him or not) that God would send His angels to protect him/us (hence, the angel wings). Yes, we were hit. But I still truly believe that God was there, holding us up, surrounding us with His love, grace, and mercy. He carried us through He DID protect us. He still is protecting us. And He always will protect us.
I could go on and on. I have SO many wonderful memories. Some of them I was in a wheelchair, others on crutches, but I was there. I was able to enjoy those precious moments. My foot is still part of my body, and I can walk. I can hug my kids and my husband. I know I sound cheesy and sentimental now. But despite all of the bad, the good moments are what I will remember most.
If I were to sum up the last year in one word, it would be THANKFUL.
What is it about guilt? It seems to follow me everywhere. I have struggled with a few things recently, and guilt is the cause of that struggle. It is not easy to share these things with the world, but here goes...
I feel guilty for saying "Yes" to something because it takes time away from my family, and also myself. Or it causes me to neglect another area of my life.
I feel guilty for saying "No" to something, especially when it's something I'm passionate about. Especially when that something is good. (see my dilemma here?)
I feel guilty for feeling angry, hurt, and frustrated about the accident, resulting injuries, related family issues, and the long-term limitations I will have to deal with.
I feel guilty because I should just be thankful to be alive and that I can walk. It feels wrong to have those feelings when I could have lost my foot... or my life.
I feel guilty because those feelings are what I would have if I haven't truly forgiven the person who made a mistake.
Guilt is a basic human emotion that we feel after doing something wrong. It is normal. We normally apologize to whomever we have wronged. But, why is it that I feel guilt when I haven't done anything wrong? And who to I apologize to if I haven't wronged anyone? Why is it that no matter what I do, guilt finds a way to gnaw at me, making me second guess everything? Why can't I just say "No" without that guilt? Why can't I just feel without that guilt?
Satan plants that seed of guilt in my mind. He is trying to stop me from doing my best. He is trying to sabotage relationships. He is trying to stop me from doing good. He wants that guilt to stop me. He wants that guilt to pull me down and isolate me.
I am learning to let go of that guilt. It's not easy. It keeps popping back up.
I just attended an amazing Women's Retreat with ladies from a wonderful church! It was definitely a spiritual renewal. I finally allowed myself to admit that I need a lot of emotional healing after the accident. The physical is about as good as it's going to get. I accept that my leg will never be the same. But I refuse to allow my spirit to be held back because I allowed the guilt to prevent me from dealing with the emotions I have.
One of the speakers addressed another area that I have been struggling with, saying "No". I have a hard time saying that 2 letter word to projects that I am passionate about. The speaker shared that saying "No" is not always saying "No" to God. That sometimes saying "No" is really saying "Yes" to Jesus! I needed to hear those words. I am now beginning to feel at peace with saying "No". I know that in saying "No" to some things, I am saying "Yes" to my family, myself, and to whatever God has in store for me. It is okay to say "No". And it's okay to not be able to do it all.
I am also starting to accept the fact that it is okay for me to feel hurt, angry, and frustrated about the accident, and the last 10 months of our life. It is okay for me to feel those things about the future that will forever be changed because of the accident. It does not mean that I am not thankful. It does not make me weak. It only makes me stronger for admitting that I need God's comfort and healing.
Feeling hurt, angry, and frustrated also does not mean that I have not truly forgiven the young girl who hit us. Those feelings are not towards her in any way. They are about the situation, the life I had before, and the life that will forever be restricted. It pains me to know that I can't run and play with my kids. Every step I take is painful. You may not notice it, because I hide it well, and I have learned to deal with it. I accept that the physical pain is just part of my life now. Each step is a reminder of not only the physical pain, but the emotional pain, as well. My life will never be the same, in so many ways.
I feel like I am mourning the loss of the life we had before. The life where I could walk pain-free. Where I could run with my kids. Where my 4 year old son never had PTSD. Where we didn't have to deal with the emotional pain of what has happened in the last 10 months. I feel like I am mourning the loss of things I will not be able to do with my kids.
Yes, there are many things I can do. But it is a fact that there are some things that I can't. And it is okay for me to feel hurt, angry, and frustrated about that. It is okay to mourn the things I can no longer do.
It is okay because I am still thankful. I have forgiven the driver. And I am still loved by the One who created me. The One who saved us (both spiritually and physically). The One who has greater plans for me. He is my rock and my salvation. God has told me it is okay to let that guilt go and give it to Him.
Jeremiah 29:11 - 13
"'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. Then you will call on me and come pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.'
Psalms 28:7
"The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise him."
Hello, old friends! It has been way too long since I've had a chance to sit down and write. I've missed it. So this post is kinda long, playing catch up. But I've included pics of my cute boys to make up for it!
A lot has happened in the last few months, including 3 major holidays, Eli's 2nd birthday, knee surgery, lots of physical therapy, my uncle passed away after a sudden stroke, Ryan's great-uncle passed away, my computer crashed, the DFW Cloth Diaper Project officially launched, and the DFW Cloth Diaper Group has grown to nearly 1,000 "likes". Oh, and Ryan went on his first ride since the accident. It was for a great cause, a motorcycle toy ride, but my nerves were beyond frayed that day. All this on top of the normal daily routine with 2 young kids. Things have been hectic, to say the least.
Things got so busy we didn't even have an actual party for Eli, just a fun family lunch at Babe's Chicken House! Riley ate 7 pieces of smoked chicken and a cupcake. Eli loved all the attention!
This is piece #6. It really is that good.
Happy Birthday, Sweet Eli!
Yes, I mentioned more surgery. Which makes #6 in an 8 month span. This one was on the knee. I finally went to see about it (since 2.5 months of PT didn't help as much as it should have). They did an MRI and scheduled more PT. After 4 additional weeks of PT, the doctor told me I had 3 choices:
1. Live with the pain. Yeah, not happening.
2. Try more physical therapy. Um, I've had a total of 3.5 months on it, 2-3 x's a week. It's not better.
3. Do orthoscopic surgery to fix the tiny tear he thinks he saw on the MRI.
So surgery it was. On December 9 (just 2 weeks before Christmas), I had my knee scoped, and it was the best decision! I am exactly one month out of surgery, and my knee is world's better! I have a general soreness from surgery, but the sharp pain is gone. I can walk through the store without feeling like somebody is stabbing me in the knee with each step. He sutured a partial tear in the medial meniscus. And also "filed" down some scar tissue on one of the bones. It feels like my knee will be somewhat "normal" again once it's fully healed.
Left knee a couple days post-op.
Scarring on the bone before he filed it down.
I just finished the last of my PT. I am done, and it feels so strange. Only one more doctor's appointment, a follow up on my knee (which the doctor said is looking great!). And then I will be completely done!! It feels so freeing to be (almost) done with all of the appointments. I've had 4 different doctors (orthopedic surgeon, plastic surgeon, podiatrist, and a sport's medicine doctor; and one awesome physical therapist!). Am I completely back to how I was before? No. And I never will be.
The long term effects are now apparent. I can't squat. At all. My ankle just won't bend. And my physical therapist told me that while it's not impossible, it will be very difficult for me to be able to run again. Not that I'm a runner, or do frequent marathons (ok, none). But I've always thought that maybe someday I would do one. Just to prove I could. But chances of that happening are small. At least, running one. I could always walk it. I'm not even concerned about that. My focus is more on the simple things, like What if my kid runs to the street or parking lot and I can't chase them? I can't do that. And it's frustrating. And scary.
When I returned to PT for my knee and ankle in November, I got a special splint that will help the range of motion in my ankle. It helps some, but not a lot. The biggest problem is I can't walk in it. That's impossible with kids. So, the best time to wear it is when I'm sleeping. But it's uncomfortable, and I can't sleep with it on. Ideally, I should wear it 12 hours a day for maximum benefit. That doesn't happen. I'm lucky if I wear it 2. The PT said to use it for a couple more months before returning it.
I wore this stylish shoe for a couple months before seeing about my knee.
It kept all pressure off my heel so the one spot where the skin graft didn't
"take" could heal properly. Skin grafts on the heel are a tricky thing.
The not-so-awesome-and-very-uncomfortable ankle splint I get to wear.
I am finally feeling like I can do some things without great pain. Like cooking and light cleaning. Picking things up is hard, since I can't squat. But I like that I feel well enough to do this stuff. Only problem is, I'm out of the habit. It's been 9 months since the accident. I'm having to figure out my new "normal". I can't physically function the same as before, but it really won't improve much more. So I just have to figure it all out, and deal with any discomfort. It's not easy.
Today I took the kids to the mall to get a haircut, eat lunch, and let them play. It's cold and wet outside, so I thought I'd let them run off some energy. Eli was super cranky. I forgot the stroller wasn't in the car. I didn't worry, since I figured we'd just get a mall stroller. But the atm wasn't working, and the machine only took cash. I had 3 $1 bills. It cost $5. So, no stroller. Eli wanted me to carry him. The whole time. Not only is he heavy (about 33 lbs), but the extra weight still hurts my leg. I can only tolerate carrying him for a few minutes. If I didn't carry him, he stood there screaming. If I carried him, it hurt. I was frustrated, as eyes started at me as if I was torturing my child, that I couldn't carry him easily. Normally, I don't let the stares bother me. But today it did. I felt like a bad mom because I can't carry my child without pain. I know, I'm not really a bad mom. But it's still frustrating that I can't carry him when he wants/needs a little extra comfort.
I'll figure it out. I know I will, and these frustrations will be a thing of the past. I'm still so thankful that Ryan and I did not die in that accident. I'm also thankful that I still have my foot. And that I can walk. And hold my kids and watch them grow and learn each day. My heart aches when I think about what could have happened. God has blessed us beyond what we deserve! He has been right here with us the whole time, giving us the strength and comfort we need. I still need that strength and comfort. I think the end of this chapter in our lives has been harder than the beginning.
I was sad on Saturday as I watched Ryan and the boys play Hide and Go Seek in the yard. I wanted to run and chase after them, and I was reminded of what I won't be able to do with my kids. I almost feel as if I'm mourning the loss of my old "normal" life, when I had no restrictions on what I could do. But when I get a little down about this, I just need to look at 2 wonderful little faces to remind me of how truly blessed I am. I may not be able to run after them, but they can run to me. And for that, I am thankful. And my heart is full.
This post is mainly for me. I debated keeping it in a private journal, but ultimately decided to share it here, for anyone who is interested.
This is my account of what happened the night of April 16, 2011. I still remember the details as if it just happened. Today is the 4 month mark since the accident. It's been a long, hard 4 months. I feel very blessed that I am still here to share this.
WARNING: I will share some photos. Some are not very pleasant to look at. I will post them at the end, so if you do not want to see them, do NOT scroll to the bottom of the post.
Ryan and I hadn't had a date night in awhile, I'm not even sure exactly how long it had been. We asked Ryan's parents to come over and stay with the boys so we could have a night out. Riley was nearing 4 years, and Eli was 17 months. We wanted some time for us in our always hectic schedule.
I had worked all day at the Nappy Shoppe. Ryan was home with the kids. Towards the end of the day at work, I stubbed my big toe, and it hurt like hell! When I got home to change for our night out, I decided to wear my flat slip on shoes, since my boots have a heel that hurt my toe too much to walk in them. Normally, I do wear boots while riding the motorcycle, but I didn't really think much of it. We were always safe, and I trusted Ryan 100%.
It was a rush as I arrived home from work. The kids were excited that their grandparents came over, while Ryan and I tried to get ready. At some point I nursed Eli, who was down to just a few nursing sessions a day. I don't remember the details or the last time I nursed him. It was so routine, I didn't really think about how special our time was.
Ryan and I told the boys goodbye, put on our leather jackets and helmets and hopped on the bike. I waved goodbye one last time as we drove off, with the kids and my inlaws watching and waving from our front yard. It was my first time riding with Ryan since before getting pregnant with Eli, so nearly 2 years.
We went to dinner, then decided to take a ride around Grapevine. We had no plans other than to enjoy our date. We rode over the dam, then headed back to downtown Grapevine. I wanted to visit the wineries and buy a bottle of wine I had tried on my birthday. A couple hours later, we decided to head home, a bottle of a blackberry merlot in my purse, tucked under my arm.
It wasn't even 11:00 pm, but I was tired after a long day. So I relaxed and enjoyed the ride, laying my head on Ryan's back, with my eyes closed most of the ride. Soon, we were just a few miles from home.
A pick-up truck exited the tollway to merge with the service road, so Ryan changed lanes. We were now in the middle lane. He decided to stay there since there were only a couple of cars, both behind us. The left lane is left turn only, and the middle lane can either turn left or go straight.
The light ahead was red, so Ryan and the other cars slowed down. As we approached, the light changed to green, so Ryan acccelerated and started to make the (legal) turn left. My eyes were closed again at this point. I was ready to be home so I could finally rest for the first time all day.
The bike leaned for the left turn, and suddenly I felt the worst pain of my life. It was excrutiating. My immediate thought was That car just tried going straight in a left turn only lane... I didn't see it coming.
The next thing I remember was laying on the ground, in the middle of the road, hearing Ryan calling out to me. I opened my eyes and saw him running toward me. In a state of shock, and fear that a car would run me over (I was in the middle of the intersection), he was yelling at me to get up.
I tried lifting my legs and the pain hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn't do it. The pain, well, there are no words to describe how bad the pain was. I guess you could say it felt exactly how you would expect it to feel to have your leg crushed between a small SUV and a motorcycle. I rolled back and forth on my back, unable to stop. I yelled and cursed at how bad it hurt. I think I would have offended a sailor.
Ryan was there, asking if I was okay. Then I heard 2 other voices, one male and one female. I never saw their faces. I was too distraught, in too much pain, and my motorcycle helmet blocked my view. The man talked to me, trying to calm me down and get me to lay still. I settled on my left side, clinging to the bottom of my full face helmet. I tried to focus, but I was scared, hurt, and trying not to completely freak out anymore.
Ryan was behind me, and I kept asking if he was okay. He tried to reassure me he was fine, that he was concerned about me. I kept hearing the man and woman who stopped to help talking about how there was so much blood, they couldn't stop the blood. I honestly thought they were talking about Ryan. Later I found out it was mine. My left leg felt like every bone had been crushed into a million pieces from the knee down.
It wasn't long before the ambulance arrived, only a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Once they arrived, things moved quickly. They took Ryan to an ambulance. I was put on the backboard while they worked on my leg. I didn't know what they were doing. I just felt pain. They moved me to a stretcher, and took me to the ambulance. Ryan was inside, waiting for the second ambulance to arrive. We kissed goodbye, and they took him to the hospital in the other ambulance.
An officer asked if there was anyone they could call. I told them to call my inlaws, who were at home with my kids. And also my parents. I knew that this was the call every parent never wants to hear. And then it hit me just how hard this was going to be on my kids. How was this going to affect them? I was hurt, but I was worried for them. My heart ached and all I wanted to do was hold them. I also wanted Ryan there with me to hold my hand, but he wasn't. I felt so alone.
I remember repeating I can't believe this happend. We were just on a date How could this happen? I was told by the paramedics that there was no pulse in my foot, and they had to do "something" before they could take me to the ER. I didn't know, or really care, what that "something" was. I didn't ask, just told them to do what they needed to do. They had started an IV at this point, but told me the pain meds wouldn't help with what they had to do. The paramedic next to me, who had started the IV, took my hand. I still had my helmet on, so I stared at the ceiling of the ambulance. I squeezed his hand tight, and I remember thinking, That wasn't so bad. At least not compared to how it felt since my leg was crushed. I don't think it could be any worse than it already was.
They finally removed my helmet, and replaced it with a hard neck brace. So I was still unable to look around, much less down. I still had not seen what my leg looked like.
In the ambulance, I apologized for all the cursing I had done. They told me I had a right to say whatever I wanted. I think a combination of the shock wearing off and the medication running through the IV, but I was finally feeling a little calmer and not so panicked. Talking helped, to try to distract me from what happened, and from the pain. I even joked about how earlier that day I was worried about jamming my big toe (which just happened to be on my left foot).
Soon enough we arrived at the hospital. There were 2 hospitals closer, but this one had the trauma center level that could take care of me. I was later told that if we had been any further away by ambulance that I would have been careflighted to Dallas.
They wheeled me into a room, where Ryan was laying on a gurney. There was medical equipment between us, but at least we were in the same room and could talk to each other. Doctors and nurses moved about, talking to me. They cut off my clothes, which were all brand new. The paramedics briefed them on what happened. I don't remember anything that they said. Except for one thing. They told the hospital staff that I had a bottle of wine in my purse that was crushed, so that's why they smelled alcohol. I'm sure Ryan and I both smelled completely drunk, though we weren't.
The rest of the night is a blur of doctors and nurses talking to me, working on my leg, and a lot of waiting. I spoke with my parents on the phone, I think they said a prayer with me (but I honestly don't remember the exact conversation), and told me they'd be there in the morning.
The morphine they gave me for pain wasn't doing much except make me nauseous. I even got sick a couple of times. They gave me something to help the nausea, but it didn't help.
I cried a lot, thinking about how different things were going to be. I cried for my kids. I knew they were safe and just fine with my inlaws, but I still worried for them. Especially Eli. He was such a mama's boy, still nursing, and hated to be away from me. I worried about how he would do when he woke up and Ryan and I weren't there. I knew that our breastfeeding days were over. I worried about how Riley would handle seeing me in so much pain. I worried about how I could take care of my kids. Ryan was still on his gurney, so we couldn't even hold hands. And because of my neck brace I was unable to see him.
I was taken to have CT scans done. They scanned my head, neck, back, legs... pretty much everything. Back in the ER, the doctor came and told me the news. He said the good (and very surprising) thing was that not a single bone in my ankle was broken. That was extremely shocking, since I fully expected it to be crushed. So did he. I had broken my left fibula and right pelvic bone. He then told me about what they call a "degloving". The skin and pad of my heel had been peeled off of my foot, exposing the heel bone and achilles tendon. They needed to clean it up and reattach it to my foot. Which meant surgery.
They began stitching up Ryan's gash in his leg, but it was almost time for me to go to surgery. So they took me to a room somewhere, and soon after Ryan joined me. I had to throw away my contacts, so everything was fuzzy since I didn't have my glasses. My father in law would be bringing them soon, but he wouldn't be there until after I was taken back for surgery.
I was still feeling nauseous. I even got sick. Morphine was not what it's cracked up to be. It's bad stuff.
Around 7:00 am, they took me to the OR. I don't remember going. I just remember waking up in a room, with Ryan on the couch next to the bed. My left leg was propped up on pillows, my foot completely limp. The pain was still horrible, despite their attempts to give me enough medication to control it. A tube was attached to my foot. I found out later it was a wound vac.
I slept most of the day, the anesthesia still in my system. I was thankful I was even alive. I found out in the next few days that it was a 16 year old girl who hit us. I also learned that my head smashed her windshield, which is the only part of the accident I don't remember. Thank God for helmets. If it weren't for the helmet, I wouldn't be able to share this story.
The boys were brought up to see us later that day. Oh how I missed them! I knew it would be hard for them to see me in that condition, that it would probably scare them. But I also knew it would scare them more to not see me at all.
Riley was quiet, but would sit next to me on the bed. Eli wouldn't come anywhere close to me. But at least he wasn't screaming and crying. I much preferred that he be happy away from me than not wanting to let go of me. I was nervous that he would want to nurse, and I wouldn't be able to. You can read more about the end of our breastfeeding journey here.
Ryan stayed with me for the first several days, even though he was never admitted to the hospital. I'm glad he was there. It would have been much more difficult to be there, especially at night, by myself. I had another surgery on Wednesday, April 20. They had to put 2 screws in my ankle since a ligament broke due to the broken fibula. They placed another wound vac on, as well as a big heavy cast/splint.
Our life has changed. Our lives as individuals, and our life as a family. It has been extrememly difficult, and while we have had our ups and downs, I believe we are stronger because of it.
Ryan and I could have easily lost our lives that night. Riley and Eli could have been left without their parents. Eli wouldn't even remember us, and Riley would only remember bits and pieces. I thank God everyday that we are still here to hold our kids and to see them grow up into the amazing individuals I know they will be.
I don't think the reality of the accident set in until 3 weeks later. I had been home for less than a week, but I wanted to help out my boss at an expo. I was feeling okay and ready to do something useful. So Ryan drove me to the mall and unloaded me in the wheelchair. I was asked the same question I have been asked about a million times since the accident: "What happened to you?" One woman in particular stands out. After I told her it was a motorcycle accident 3 weeks prior, she stopped, a look of realization on her face. She asked if it was at a certain intersection, and I said yes. My first thought was that she was the mother of the girl who hit us. I didn't know what I would say to her. Then she told me that her husband was a first responder, an off-duty police officer who saw it happen on his way home.
He called his wife that night to tell her that he'd be late. He also told her that he thought it would be a fatlity accident.
It hit me then just how bad things could have been. I hid my emotions, and told her to let her husband know that my husband and I would be fine! She was more than happy to be able to tell him that. But her words sank in. I couldn't even pick her face in a crowd because I lost myself in my thoughts once I heard those words. Again, I thought of my kids. And about how thankful I was.
I believe the man who calmed me down was this woman's husband.
Here I am, 4 months later, and facing one more surgery (#5). This will be an easy one, to remove the screws in my ankle. It is scheduled for Friday, 8/19/11. (edited to add: surgery was rescheduled to Monday, 8/22.) I've finally been able to start walking without the boot or my crutches in the last 2 weeks. Physical Therapy is going well, though it's hard. Despite the accident, life still moves on. The world does not stop because we were hit by a car. Riley turned 4. Ryan has a birthday this weekend. Our 5th wedding anniversary is in a few weeks. We have tried to live as normal life as possible. It's just been a new normal.
I have been asked how I can have such a positive outlook through all of this. I answer that here. I have dealt with people who somehow don't realize that someone, somewhere always has it worse than you. Despite the crappy things that have happened in the last few months, I know that there are many people right now who are facing much more difficult situations than I. I truly believe it's all a matter of perspective. Yes, what happened to us was a horrible thing, but I will not dwell on the bad and what could have happened. I will focus on the good and what didn't happen.
When I say certain things or write certain posts, it's not to be "holier than thou". It's because I want to use my experience to help others realize that life, no matter how bad at times, is a beautiful thing. Something bad happened to us. But I have always believed that God will make something beautiful out of something tragic. And I believe He is doing that now. If our story touches just one person, then sharing it has served it's purpose.
Today I heard a song I haven't heard in awhile. So I thought I'd share.
"If You're Going Through Hell" by Rodney Atkins
If you're going through hell Keep on goin', don't slow down If you're scared, don't show it You might get out before the Devil even knows you're there
If you're going through hell Keep on movin', face that fire Walk right through it You might get out before the Devil even knows you're there...
If you would like to read more about the months following the accident and how it has affected our family, you can read my posts here. I am always open to questions, so if you have any, feel free to post them in the comments or on my facebook page.
I have been asked by countless people to see pictures of my foot. If you are squeamish, you will want to close your browser now.
Ryan's deep gash, total of 10 stitches.
He now has a scar, but it has healed well.
Ryan's bruising, 2-3 days post accident.
My foot, between 1st and 2nd surgery.
The black you see is the wound
vac. The rest is tape. It was
completely limp and I was unable to move it.
4/25/2011 Inside of left foot.
Skin is beginning to die on back of foot.
This was about 3 weeks post accident.
The black is the dead skin/tissue.
The white is a cream I had to put on it.
This was a few days before the 3rd surgery.
This was 1 week after the 3rd surgery,
1 week before the 4th surgery (skin graft).
The plastic surgeon removed all of the dead tissue.
I had a wound vac on this to prepare it for the skin graft.
6/6/11.
This is the first time I saw the skin graft,
5 days after the 4th surgery.
This is what it looked like with a wound vac on it.
This was right after the skin graft (4th surgery).
6/6/11. The back of my foot after the skin graft.
My tattoo is still there!
At the top edge of the photo, in the center, you can see
the incision where the screws were put in my ankle.
6/6/11. My outer left thigh. Donor site for the skin graft.
This was taken about 2 weeks after the skin graft.
Stitches are still there in this photo,
along the outside edges of the graft.
The bottom part of my heel is the one spot
that the skin graft did not "take".
The spot has gotten smaller,
but is still open.
August 2011. This was also about 2 weeks ago.
The outer part of my foot almost looks like
normal skin. It is still tender, but looking good.
August 2011. This was taken about 2 weeks ago.
The skin graft looks great! There is still one small
area at the bottom of my heel that has remained open.
Overall, it has healed well.
Last week I had an appointment with the play therapist who will work with Riley. The place is about 40 minutes from our house (without traffic), much further than I had wanted. But when I have so many recommendations for one particular place, that is where I will go!
On my way there, traffic came to a dead stop. Behind me I heard sirens, so I pulled over as far as I could on the busy highway to let the emergency vehicles through. I thought, uh oh. It's been a very long time since I've driven in rush hour traffic on a busy highway. I was quickly reminded just how impatient people are to get to wherever it is they are going.
Everyone seemed to think that this accident ahead was just something that will delay their trip home, to dinner, a date, a meeting, wherever they need to be. So self absorbed that they forget that up ahead, someone's life just changed. Or possibly ended, if the accident was really bad. They don't think about the people invloved in the accident, or those going to help them. And it's more than just them. It's also the families of the ones involved. What about their kids? Spouse? Parents? It effects them, too.
Maybe it was the fact that I was on my way to talk about my son's PTSD, which was a result of our accident. Or maybe it was the fact that I was listening to Casting Crown's. Either way, I actually teared up thinking about how the lives of those ahead were just changed.
In the last 15.5 weeks since that night, our lives have been different. Yes, we are doing fine and are very fortunate that we are still here to tell the tale. But our lives are different. My parents lives are different, as my mom is still staying with us to help me while Ryan is at work. My kids' lives are different. The life of the girl who hit us is different, and so is her family's. For better or worse, we are all changed because of one moment in time.
I've been thinking a lot recently about those emergency workers who helped us. The police, the firefighters and paramedics. The good samaritans who stopped to help and call 911. The emergency workers were just doing their job. I don't remember a single name or face (I was slightly distracted by the worst pain I have ever felt). But I do remember how they calmed me down (I was in "fight or flight mode", as one paramedic put it). One paramedic held my hand as the others worked on stablizing my foot (it had no pulse, my heel bone and achilles tendon were completely exposed). I had no clue what they were doing, but the simple act of holding my hand was comforting. Ryan was already in another ambulance on his way to the hospital, so he couldn't be there next to me.
Every time I see any emergency workers in The Colony, I wonder if they worked the accident. On Monday I took myself and the boys to lunch at Chick Fil A. A group of firefighters/paramedics walked in to order as we were leaving. On a whim, I turned around and asked the closest one to me if he worked a motorcycle accident a few months ago. He did. I was finally able to put a face to one of the strangers who helped us, and tell him thank you.
My boys playing in
the fire truck!
Last night was National Night Out, which means block party time! Every year, a police car and fire truck stop by to visit. I asked the officers if they worked the accident, which they did not. But one of the sergeants knew about the accident, and that it was a high school girl who hit us. But 2 of the firefighters/paramedics did. They remembered the accident in detail, and were very happy to see we are doing well! Again, I was able to thank them for their help, and everything they do. It was one of these 2 that told me I was in "fight or flight mode".
A long time ago, someone suggested instead of cursing or complaining when you hear sirens, say a prayer for whoever they are going to help, and also for the emergency workers. That has always stuck with me. I still do it to this day. The tricky part is to also say a prayer of thanks when you get a speeding ticket. Maybe that traffic stop prevented an accident that could change your life forever, and the life of someone you'll never meet.
By the way, that accident that happened last week on my way to the play therapist was minor. A lot of damage to the cars, but everyone appeared to be okay. I breathed a big sigh of relief for them.
What is one moment in your life, big or small, that has changed you?
I just got home from an appointment with my orthopedic surgeon. This was a big appointment for me, with several questions about my recovery.
First of all, it's all looking great! My plastic surgeon cleared me two weeks ago to lose the boot I've been wearing for so long, but I had to wait for this appointment to see what the ortho said. The 2 screws in my left ankle are still there and in place. Problem is, with my already skinny ankles and the muscle atrophy, my ankle is down to nothing! I can touch my thumb and middle finger together when I wrap them around it. So because of this, and also the range of motion I'm slowly gaining, I have been able to feel the 2 screws, on either side of my ankle (inside and out).
He told me before that it was a 50/50 chance of having the screws removed. If they broke, then they could stay. But they are still intact. And since my ankle has no muscle, fat, or tissue to cushion the screws (which is why I can feel them), he is recommending they come out. So in about 4 weeks I will go in for Surgery #5 to have them removed. It will be a quick day surgery, with a short recovery. He also thinks I will have better range of motion in my ankle after removing the screws.
This is all great news! Yes, it means another surgery, but it also means that I am healing and my body is doing what it should.
The surgery will fall around the week of August 22-26, which falls right before a very busy September. There's Labor Day, our 5 year wedding anniversary trip to San Antonio, and a trip to California to visit my brother, sister-in-law, and my niece (who I have not been able to meet yet). But the recovery time for this surgery will be quick, so he doesn't think it will hinder any vacation plans.
The biggest and most exciting news of the day is that I can stop wearing my boot!!!! This is the best news of my recovery, especially here in Texas! The boot is lined with "fur" (I think it's fleece). It is the hottest boot imaginable. Everyone tells me it looks like an Ugg. And it's been 100+ degrees here for several weeks. Yesterday my car told me it hit 110*. Imagine wearing your Ugg's in that weather! Not fun.
He also told me to start weaning off of the crutches. I have tried using just one crutch (with the boot on), and even no crutches. It wasn't pleasant. But when I got home today (wearing my regular shoes), I was actually able to walk around (well, limp around) and carry my own plate of food. It is such a relief to know that I am now able to get myself something to eat or drink without having to rely on someone else to carry it for me. I am not ready to go crutch-less out of the house just yet, but I'm on my way!
I don't think I'll be able to wear my sexy heels on our anniversary trip, but that's okay. I was told 4-6 weeks after the surgery to be careful (no dancing or twisting of the ankle), so that will be a little too soon to wear 4" heels. I'll just have to go find some sexy flats!
Riley is doing well, too. I had an appointment a couple weeks ago to get him started with play therapy. Now I'm just waiting to hear back from the counselor to get him scheduled. He's had a busy few weeks! He's attending the Summer Fun! camps at our church, as well as Vacation Bible School. He has had a blast, and will continue to have fun as the summer goes on! While he seems to be doing a little better, I still want to get him in the play therapy to make sure he is able to work through his emotions after the accident. He still holds a "grudge" against motorcycles, and seems to worry more than he should. The anger issues are still there, but don't seem to be as bad.
Almost forgot to mention that I've been driving for the last few weeks. Which means I've been off the pain meds for a few weeks! Over the counter meds have been able to manage my pain (mostly).
These shoes are my goal. I could not resist these sexy heels yesterday, so I bought them as an inspiration to walk again very soon (not that I really need more of an incentive than my kids). The price was just too good to pass up!
Once I'm up and walking again, I'm going to make Ryan take me out on a nice date so I can wear them!
Speaking of walking.... I had my very first physical therapy session this morning. For the first time in 10.5 weeks, I put weight on my left foot and "walked" on it. Range of motion in my ankle will be the biggest concern, as well as being able to put weight on it.
I have had continuing knee problems since the accident. It's no surprise, since it was crushed between a car and our motorcycle. But the orthopedic surgeon told me the x-rays were clear (but he would refer me to a sports medicine doctor if it continued to bother me). The physician's assistant that I saw 2 weeks ago just brushed it off (I was not impressed with her and will not see her again). I haven't really pushed it, since I knew the ankle was the bigger concern. But it is still fairly swollen and bruised. It also hurts if it is in one position too long (especially bent). The therapist looked at it, and told me that I definitely sprained the MCL, and deeply bruised something I can't pronounce (much less spell!) that is connected to the MCL. He said I do not need to seek treatment from a doctor now, only if the therapy does not help. They will work on my knee, but the ankle is still top priority. Once I'm up and walking more, the knee therapy will start.
I was told to do excersizes twice a day on non-therapy days. I will go 3 times a week for about 6 weeks, depending on how things go.
It was not painful, but extremely uncomfortable. Well, I lied. Putting weight on it was painful, as was "walking" on it. I will still use the crutches, for balance and support. The boot stays for now. It is designed to keep pressure off of my heel. I still have an open wound on the back of my heel where the skin graft didn't "take", so it has to stay bandaged up. Once my heel has healed a little more, I will be able to start wearing regular shoes again. The therapist told me about a neoprene "sleeve" that I can wear to cover the back of my heel/ankle, so that my shoes won't rub against it.
Hopefully that neoprene sleeve will work with my new heels! I am determined to wear them within 3 months.
We also took Riley back to the doctor today for his 4 year well check. He was happy that he didn't have to get shots (the vaccines are all back-ordered until late July). We talked more about his PTSD. His behavior has been better, but I'm still concerned about some other things (as is our doctor). She gave me the name of a child psychistrist, but he doesn't do play therapy for children his age. I was given some other names of child therapists and psychologists, and we are working on geting him into play therapy to help him work through his emotions. It's been hard, and things are getting slightly better, but he still needs just a little help to figure things out.
Riley has also been talking (mostly to my mom) about how he doesn't like motorcycles anymore. He told Ryan and I last night that we couldn't ride a motorcycle again because it was too dangerous (his words, not mine). This coming from a little boy who used to love his daddy's motorcycles.
Overall, things are going very well. Life is still very busy, and it never stops. We will get past this chapter in our life, and we will move on.
For now, though, I just can't wait to wear those heels!
I never thought I'd be writing this post. Mostly because I never thought I'd be sad about not breastfeeding anymore. I have heard of mom's who slip into a depression after their nursling weans (for whatever reason, at any age, whether it be 5 months or 5 years). I never understood it. I don't want you to think I'm being insensitive, I just haven't experience that before. While I am not depressed, I do feel sad that E is no longer nursing.
I know the biggest reason I feel this way is because it was not our choice, mine or E's. He was 17 months. Five months longer than I nursed Riley, and much longer than I ever expected or planned. I am very proud we made it so long.
I can't remember a single detail about the last time I nursed him (and now the tears are forming...). If I had known it would be the last time, I would have cuddled with him while he found both comfort and nourishment. I would have savored every moment of it. I would have memorized his face, the sounds he made, the way he looked at me and grinned, while still latched on. I would have asked my hubby to take a photo to capture that moment of peace. I would have remembered exactly where we sat (most likely the couch, where I usually nursed him, but it could have been my bed, I really can't remember). I would have captured every second of it in my mind, to cherish forever.
It became something I took for granted, that special time for me and Eli, that happened whenever, and wherever, he wanted it. There were times I wished he were ready to stop, so I could have my body back all to myself. But I knew he was not ready, so we continued. When he turned 1 year, I thought we would see how he was doing at 15 months. Then 15 months hit, and he still wasn't ready, so we carried on.
I couldn't resist taking this photo last winter!
I absolutely love the look on his face, and will always cherish moments like this one!
Then Ryan and I were in the accident, and I was pumped full of drugs. I also had emergency surgery on my foot 8 hours after the accident. More drugs in my system. I remember laying in the ER, in the worst pain of my life, and telling the nurses that I would no longer be able to nurse my baby (and here are more tears). They said they were sorry, and asked how old my baby was. I told them 17 months, and they were impressed (not repulsed) that we made it that long!
Once I was in my room, a couple of my nurses offered me a pump so I could keep up my supply. But at that point, I knew it was over. Pumping is not my friend. I have not been able to pump since E was about 5-6 months old. Only a few tiny drops would come out any time I tried. I knew I had a long hospital stay ahead of me, more medications (most of which are not safe for BFing), and more surgeries. I also didn't know how E would take to nursing again after my long stay away from him.
I realized our breastfeeding days were over. It took about 8 days for my milk to dry up. I used cabbage leaves to help ease the discomfort. By the time I went to rehab, it was gone.
When the kids were brought up to visit me, E wanted nothing to do with me for the first 5-6 days. The last day he saw me in the hospital, he finally warmed up enough to sit by me for a few minutes. At rehab, he was much better and ran right up to me. Once I returned home, he still didn't want much to do with me, and clung to my mom for the first few days.
A few days after returning home from rehab, E woke up early, still very sleepy. He cuddled with my mom on the couch, but after a few minutes, decided he would cuddle with me.
He laid in my lap, and immediately got into the "position". He always preferred my left side, so that's how he laid in my lap. He sweetly looked up at me and pointed at my breast, and said "ehh, ehh" (his way of telling me he wanted milk). I gently told him "No more milk, it's all gone." He put his head down, as if to say "okay". Then a few minutes later, he asked again. 3-4 times he did this, but stayed calm every time I told him "no more". I was surprised at how calm he was. Then the 4-5th time, he had a meltdown. He screamed, and threw himself down. He didn't want me to put him down, yet he didn't want me to hold him. My heart was aching. I wanted so badly to just pop out my boob and let him try, but I knew the milk was long gone. He got over it a few minutes later, and was content cuddling. But inside I felt horrible I could no longer give him what he wanted/needed.
What breastfeeding a
toddler is really like!
Only one other time has he asked for it. He had fallen and hurt himself (mostly his ego), and came to me for comfort. I was unable to give him the comfort he wanted, though. Again, my heart ached.
A few days ago I was getting dressed. When I took off my night shirt, he got all excited and pointed at my chest, as if to say "Look! My old friends!" Then he sat by me, still happy. I continued to get dressed, half expecting him to ask for milk. But he didn't.
It's really over. And I'm sad. I now understand why people say they were saddened when their child weaned themselves. When I weaned Riley at 12 months (yes, I weaned him), he was more than fine! He honestly couldn't care less where his milk came from (bottle, cup, or boob; me or a cow). He was fine, and so was I. This time, it was not my decision, nor was it Eli's. He has done much better than I expected. I think partly because I was gone for 2 weeks, so he had time to adjust to not nursing before I came home.
I have been putting off sitting down to write this post. I knew it would be hard. I knew that once I put it in writing it would solidify that it's really over, that I will never nurse Eli again. And it would also confirm that I really am sad about it.Out of everything that has happened in the last 9 weeks, this is one thing that I wish I could take back and fix. My physical injuries are healing and I know I will walk again. But I cannot take back the end of our breastfeeding relationship. I will never nurse him again. I hate that I don't remember the last time I nursed him. It's all gone, it's all over. And there's nothing I can do to change it.
