I had a stroke at 42

When I think of Living Wills I think in the future. I see myself at 80 or 90. I’m older, my kids are grown, my life feels complete. Never once did I see myself at 42 with my little loves surrounding me hoping that an ambulance or someone would get to me in time.

But that’s where I found myself on March 29th. Home alone with my five little ones… having a stroke with no one around.

The kids had been at my parents for a few days for spring break. I had picked them up earlier that day and now we were relaxing at the house. My three year old asked if we could exercise while my eight year old rolled her eyes and the boys played. I looked at the clock and figured I had time for some push-ups and a shower before I had to start dinner.

We were both acting silly and giggling, working out with her is so much fun. At the start of our third series I became real dizzy and extremely hot. I laid my head down to catch my breath while little miss continued to dance away. She laid her hands on me and asked mommy you ok? I tired to get up but I could not. My five year old son ran in screaming he wanted popcorn. It took everything in me to pull myself and walk into the kitchen. I tried several times to type in two minutes for the popcorn and could only get numbers like 55 or 33. I knew that was not correct but I knew I could listen until the popcorn stopped popping and get it out. I made four small bowls and told the kids to come. When I went to walk into the living room everything went dark. I was yelling for my kids to come but I could only get out “Sierra” over and over. After a few minutes my eight year old came out saying “Mom Sissy is NOT here stop yelling for her!” I placed my hands on her shoulders and tried to explain I needed help but all I could get out was “Sierra Sierra” By the look on her face she knew something was wrong. She looked for Sissy in my phone but could not find her but she did find her dad. I hit the auto dial and heard him answer, I tried to talk but it was broken. He knew something was wrong and called the ambulance and raced home.

Time stood still. My kids, two of whom have autism, were running around unaware of how bad mom really was.

The ambulance pulled in and the kids flipped out. The Lights.The sirens. To much stimulation for my little ones. They come in and I tried to get them to shut the door but no one understand me. My son was running towards the door, if he got out he would be gone. The paramedic saw me getting upset and asked what could she do I pointed at my son by the door and my five year old and with every ounce in me I managed to get out “both autistic” Her eyes locked on mine and she understood without me saying anything else. She got wild mans attention and closed the door.

I could hear the kids crying and asking where’s mommy going questions but my mind could not focus on anything. I was rushed out the door to the waiting ambulance. The EMT’s assured me that they would watch the kids until my husband or parents could get to the house.

The ride to the hospital was a blur. I remember opening my eyes and hearing them ask my husband a list of questions. He was holding my hand and he looked terrified. They turned to me and seeing the look on his face I told them to save me.

I could not feel my left side. The hours turned into days. My memory for the last six months is simply gone.

But by God’s grace I survived.

With therapy I have regained the use of my leg. My voice is becoming stronger and clearer each day. Ironically the spinal cord stimulator that works my left arm, thanks to a car accident in 2000, that tells my nerves to “work” continued to tell my nerves to “work” even though my brain was telling them no shutdown.

I don’t recall much about those days in the hospital. But I do know God placed me in the right hospital to get me to the right rehab center where I was blessed with amazing physical therapist and speech therapist. Those ladies and the other patients I met while there saved me.

I may never be the person I was before my stroke. I may never fully recover my memories or have the answer to why this happened to me. Heck it’s taken me a month to type this short post, I’ve missed writing and you guys. But I do know I am still here. I survived. With each day I will get stronger. My kids still need their momma and I still have a lot of love to give.

And that my friends is something worth celebrating.

Celebrate the small victories, those are the ones that happen every day ❤️

Feeling Less, but I know I am so much More

**** this is not my normal laugh at what my kids did post. No this time, this one is about me****

Blah blah blah,

That’s how I’ve felt the last few days (okay weeks) This whole hysterectomy thing has really hit me hard in ways I did not expect.

Back in 2006 I had a procedure done where I was told it would be nearly impossible for me to get pregnant again. At the time I was trapped in an unhealthy, abusive marriage so I was fine with not being able to have anymore children. Bringing more children into that situation would not have been good for anyone. So I accepted my fate and moved on with life.

Fast forward a few years and I find myself divorced and personally struggling with not being enough for anyone. I had been told for years I was not smart enough, or pretty enough, and not worth being loved by anyone. In my mind I wondered who would want someone so unworthy like me? Would anyone ever be able to love me and all my brokenness?

Things slowly changed when I was reintroduced to Todd. In 2009 I was still struggling with my self worth but he made me see myself in ways I had never seen myself before. I was lovable and beautiful in my own ways. He loved me for who he saw me to be not the person I had been told for years I was.

After we were married I often wished I could give him a child of his own, I knew it was close to impossible but I held onto that ever so slim chance that one day it could happen. As we became foster parents and eventually adopted our five little loves the personal need disappeared. That was until I heard the words “complete hysterectomy” come out of my doctors mouth.

Those words played over and over in my mind on my four hour drive home a month ago. This phrase meant I would never have another child. That slim chance I had clinched to over our marriage was now gone. I felt the struggles of my old inner self, doubting myself worth. I would be less of a women, less of a person, I would not be whole. I would not be enough. It’s strange how things you have no control over mess with you on a deeper level.

I didn’t want to but I had surgery a few weeks ago. Those first few days after I don’t remember much, other than my mom coming into the room and asking my if I needed anything or asking me what cartoons the kids could watch (eight year old viruses a two year old. Got to find a middle ground) As I started to physically heal my emotions were all over the place. I caught myself thinking What will my husband think of this me? What if I can’t be the same me I was before surgery?

I could not do much of anything so it was the perfect time to dive into the Bible and spend some one on one time with my Lord. Page after page lead me to a story of someone who thought they to were not enough but God used them anyway. In His eyes we are enough. In fact we are more than enough when we seek His guidance and look to Him for our strength. My “inside parts” do not define who God wants me to be. They are not the only things that make me a woman and I am certainly not less of a woman now that they are gone.

Our society has, for lack of a better word, has brainwashed by setting a strong definition as to what a “woman” is. But that’s not ALL a woman is. We are strong, beautiful, independent, confident, caring, nurturing, and loving. Some of us have no children some of us have ten kids. So of us work outside the home some are stay at home wife’s/mom’s. Some of us run marathons while others prefer to dance. We are all different, yet we are all beautiful in the eyes of our Lord. He does not make mistakes He only makes masterpieces.

Do I feel different? Maybe a little. But I know I am still the same person I was. It’s kind of like a jigsaw puzzle. My grandmother use to always work on them. Sometimes we would run across a puzzle she had picked up at a yard sale or at Goodwill and she would have “extra” pieces. After she fixed the puzzle she would just throw the other pieces out because they were no longer needed. The puzzle was already beautiful. I no longer needed my “extra pieces”. God knew I would still be me.