Unexpected gifts…

When I was 29 years old…

I had a very high risk pregnancy.

My life could have been at risk during both the pregnancy and delivery.

I had a husband and two small sons at home.

Abortion was suggested to me by my physicians.

I would like to share the story of my last pregnancy. But first you must know… I am a follower of Jesus Christ. I believe in life. I believe life begins at conception.

At age 29, I was a young mom of two little boys and found myself in a situation I never expected. Backing up a bit… at the age of 23, I gave birth to my first son, Zach, and due to complications I became a paraplegic. During surgery they discovered some life threatening issues, including an aneurysm and two spinal AVM’s. The specialists at Columbia University Hospital in NYC did their best to block blood flow to those areas but were not able to block them more than 40%. The paralysis was caused by the extra blood flow from the pregnancy so a future pregnancy would hold a lot of unknowns and possible risks.

After many discussions, we decided that we weren’t ready to take any risks with my life so we chose to adopt our second child. We adopted our second son, Alex, as a three year old from an orphanage in Romania. I can’t lie and say that there weren’t big adjustments, especially for Alex who had left the only life he knew to join a family of strangers in a foreign land but also for Zach who had been our one and only for five years and now had to share his room, his toys and his parents with a brother who didn’t even speak English. But as a family we began to adapt to our new normal and settle into a routine together. As a paraplegic, it took some time for me to acclimate to having two active, busy preschoolers but I truly loved being a mom to these two little ones.

As Alex’s first anniversary with our family approached, I began to notice that I was not feeling well. I had a lot of nausea and even bouts of vomiting. Never giving pregnancy a passing thought, I mentioned it to my friend, Cindy. She asked me if pregnancy was a possibility which I immediately laughed at the notion. Yet as days passed and the symptoms increased, the thought took root in my head. I mentioned it to my husband who promptly drove to Walmart purchasing a double pack of pregnancy tests.

The first test yielded a very faint pink line but it was not very clear one way or the other. The second test was similar. It showed a faint line indicating pregnancy but unlike our first pregnancy, it was not immediately positive. Steve hopped back in the car and back to Walmart for another test in a different brand. He came home with another two pack. This time the line was very obvious that I was indeed pregnant. I took the fourth test just because my insides were freaking out as my brain began to realize what the positive test meant.

This test meant a precious little life was growing inside me. But it also meant an abundance of conflicting emotions and thoughts.

I was overjoyed. I was terrified.

I wanted more children. I didn’t want to leave the two children I already had.

I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. I didn’t want anyone to know.

I couldn’t wait to have a newborn again. What on earth would I do with a newborn?

I wanted to live. I would give my life for this child.

God blessed me. WHY God?

These thoughts (and many more) were my constant companions. Once reality set in, I began to see various doctors trying to determine what this pregnancy meant for me.

One doctor sat me down and gave me some scary truths. My situation was unknown to all of my specialists. They had not had a situation like mine and were unsure of the complications and risks to my health. I had two children at home and I had to consider them because this was a very high risk pregnancy for me. He laid out the option of an abortion saying that I needed to consider all of my options since there were just so many unknowns. While he did not push it, I knew that it was a suggestion he thought I should seriously consider.

I had gone alone to that appointment. I needed to hear the truth, but I was frightened by all he said. Was I selfish if I had this baby? Would I die and leave my boys alone? What was the right decision? Yet as I left his office, peace settled around my heart and I knew that an abortion was not the answer for me. The peace didn’t remove all of my fears. Some days I would look at the faces of my little boys and just beg God to keep me safe so I could watch them grow up. But the peace gave me the assurance that no matter what happened, God was in control and I could trust Him with not only my life but the life of my unborn baby.

Once the doctors realized that abortion was not going to be an option, it was never mentioned again as they just jumped on board to make this pregnancy go as easily as possible. They still discussed concerns but I felt as though each doctor and nurse I met made it their goal to get both of us to the finish line healthy and whole.

As the pregnancy progressed, I spent numerous hours in one doctor’s office or another. I saw a neurosurgeon for the issues in my spine; I went weekly to my OB/GYN for monitoring; I went weekly to a high risk doctor for ultrasounds and testing; I had to see my urologist (this baby killed my bladder); and my regular doctors who just followed my personal health and my medications. Medications were another big issue because some I absolutely had to have, yet could harm the baby so I opted not to take them despite the added problems it caused me physically.

When I was 34 weeks pregnant, I went in to see my OB who was a believer and very compassionate man. He came in and he asked me how I was feeling and although I am a very strong person, I burst into tears and told him I could not be pregnant for one more second.

I was peeing my pants constantly. I was either constipated or had the runs. I had non stop muscle spasms. I was uncomfortable. I was nauseous. I WAS DONE.

(I also had rowdy four & six year old sons and had just packed and moved our entire home while my husband was out of town for work quite a bit. My rope was getting shorter and shorter and my grip was slipping.)

After an amniocentesis to make sure the baby would be safe, my doctors got together and made a delivery plan. I would deliver my baby (even after weekly ultrasounds, I did not know if it was a boy or girl) by C-Section four weeks early. The neurosurgeon did not feel it was safe to insert an epidural in my spine so I had to be put under general anesthesia for the delivery. The high risk specialist would be in attendance to monitor me while my OB would perform the C-Section.

Moments before I was to go into the operating room, my husband and I prayed together. We were both afraid. I was shaking. But we trusted God. No matter what would happen in the next hour, we had trust that God was writing our story.I knew I made the right choice. This unborn baby who I had yet to meet was as much my child as Zach or Alex and I could never take any of their lives. Even if it meant losing mine.

Praise the Lord my story was not yet over. After I woke up from surgery, I saw my husband standing there with our precious baby girl. Unspeakable joy filled me as I realized that I had two little boys and now a baby girl. My heart wanted to burst with gratitude for surviving the pregnancy and delivery and the realization that my deepest prayers were answered and the desire of my heart was given. Tears filled my eyes as I kissed my husband knowing together we would watch our sweet family grow.

My sons gained a little sister, Morgan, and other than an infection in my body, I was healthy. I did have my tubes tied because I didn’t want to risk my life again. I am still so grateful for these unexpected gifts from God. All three of my kiddos. My three kids-in-law. Realizing how valuable life is. Learning to depend on God. Discovering peace and joy amidst worry and fear. Trusting when your faith is shaky. All unexpected. All gifts.

My story may not be how I would have written it but I have learned to be thankful that God is the author holding the pen.

My story < His glory

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As New York passed the bill this week for full term abortions, I have seen and heard arguments from both sides of the debate. Personally I am deeply saddened by this bill as I value both life and adoption. I do not write my story to debate or argue with anyone but rather to be understanding of how circumstances and life can be frightening. I hope to encourage women to help one another, support one another, love one another. I also hope it encourages you to trust God when you feel hopeless and afraid.

Maybe choice begins with the choice to join our hands with less judgement and more love. Less criticism and more compassion. Less selfishness and more serving. Less guilt and more prayer. Less me and more Jesus.

The day Morgan was born & her big brother’s meeting her. (Steve lost the stache thank goodness!)

Zach, Morgan & Alex on Morgan’s wedding day

Photo by Cross Photography

God knows you and loves you.

What Are You Doing In A Stroller?

One day I went to the local mall, entered the elevator and made room for a young mom who was pushing a preschool age boy in a stroller.

I pushed the button to the second floor and smiled at the preschooler. He looked at me, surveyed my chair and asked, “What are you doing in a stroller?”

His mother turned beet red, avoided eye contact and immediately began to apologize for her son’s question. I just started laughing. It was, and still is, the best question I have ever been asked! Reassuring his poor, embarrassed mom that I did not mind his question, I found myself chuckling about his inquiry throughout the day.

It did not offend me. It did not hurt my feelings. It did not make me angry.

Instead I appreciated the curiosity and honesty of this little one. He didn’t know what a wheelchair was… he didn’t understand paralysis… he didn’t care that I hadn’t walked in years. He just wondered why I, an adult, was riding on the elevator in a chair with wheels. Similar to his ride.

I love children and their questions. They are so innocent and inquisitive. Young children are trying to figure out their world and asking questions, especially “why,” is part of their discovery process. I think that it is normal to look at someone who looks “different.” And of course queries arise. When I see someone who isn’t the same as me, I want to ask questions too. Unfortunately as adults, it can come across as intrusive instead of inquisitive.

For me, I enjoy talking to kiddos because I think it teaches them that although I may be sitting, I am just a normal person. (Before anyone comments on that statement… normal is relative!) I also believe it is important to teach them to be kind and empathetic to others who struggle with a disability or a difference. Another critical lesson is to teach kids to be respectful of medical equipment. For example, my chair is not a toy. My joystick and buttons are off limits because my wheelchair is my lifeline to the world. If it breaks, I am stranded.

I was a substitute teacher for about 8 years at a local elementary school. I allowed time at the end of each school day for the kids to ask me questions because they were curious. I thought I would answer some of those questions to give a little insight to paralysis.

How fast does your wheelchair drive? I started out in a manual chair but after years of wear and tear on my arms, I was switched into a power chair. My last chair went 10 miles per hour which was almost too fast. Sometimes I would hit the joystick and the chair would tip backwards because it accelerated so quickly. My current chair only goes about 3.6 miles/hour. Back in the day, the faster chair was nice because I could take my kids on bike rides through the neighborhood and actually keep up with them. Now that I am an old lady, I guess 3.6 mph is fast enough. No… I lie… I like going fast!

How much does a wheelchair cost? Thankfully most of it is covered by insurance and I can get a new one every 5+ years, but they average about $15,000-$30,000 depending on what you need. I paid money on my last chair for the ability to raise my chair up about 6 feet. It is nice to reach things off the top shelves or just to look people in the eye!

Do you drive? Yes… I have a very expensive used Dodge Caravan that has a ramp for me to drive up and into the van. I took driving lessons to learn to drive with only my hands. While I have hand controls, my car still has foot pedals for others to drive it normally. One interesting fact is I had to be paralyzed for six months before they would teach me to drive so that I didn’t have the sensation to use my feet in an emergency. Also I had to take both the written and driving exam again to get licensed to use my hands.

What do you miss the most about not walking? As silly as it sounds, I miss swinging on a swing. Growing up, we had a tree swing and I always loved just going there to swing and relax. I also miss not being able to go to visit people because I can’t get into their homes. Stairs make visiting family and friends challenging. One of our family friends built their home entirely accessible on their first floor so I could visit anytime! That is still beyond touching to me! (Love you Swanson family!) I also have other friends who purchased or built ramps they put out when I go to their homes. That means a lot to me!

How do you you shower because you always look so clean? This question made me laugh because of the added comment of looking clean. I am not sure if she knew other people in chairs who were dirty but I loved her question. Anyway, I have a bench in my bath tub that I use my arms to transfer onto. I need to have a handheld shower head so that water isn’t just hitting me in the face.

Why are you so lazy & always sit down? (Asked by my niece, Kenzie, when she was 4 years old.) It was a good opportunity to explain that I am, in fact, not lazy but am unable to walk. It went a bit above her head but I always try to explain in age appropriate terms what exactly paralysis is. Or if I am too tired to come up with an explanation, I just say that yes, I am just lazy and enjoy riding around. Recently while I was babysitting my 3 year old niece, Camryn, she tried to teach me how to walk by exaggerating her movements and when I could not do it, she became extremely frustrated with me. It was literally the cutest thing ever!

How do you know you can’t walk? Have you tried recently? That was asked by the one and only Leah, who is in my youth group, and honestly I didn’t have an answer for her. Truthfully I have not tried lately. I am just assuming I can’t since I cannot not move my legs. Hopefully I won’t get to Heaven to hear God say, you only needed to listen to Leah and try! LOL

Do you sleep in your wheelchair? Nope. While my chair can recline a bit, I do not sleep in my chair. Once again I use my arms to get into bed and use my arms to adjust my legs into a comfortable position. I have to wake up every few hours, sit up and change my position. My brain and spinal cord don’t communicate together so I had to train myself to wake up to change positions in order to prevent pressure sores.

How do you get dressed? I always get dressed in my wheelchair and wiggle my pants on. It takes me awhile to do it so I do not like to change my clothes unless I absolutely have to. If I could live in my pjs, I totally would! Getting shoes on is the worst because I cannot bend my feet to push them into the shoe. Sometimes I have to wrestle them on and sometimes I end up throwing the shoe across the room in frustration.

And last but not least… two of my favorite stories are not questions yet they are too cute not to share.

Zach was not quite 4 years old and we were outside with my sister-in-law and her kids. I was sitting at the top of my ramp in my manual chair, not paying much attention to the kids and chatting with Jen. Suddenly I felt myself unexpectedly rolling down the ramp, totally out of control as I hear my little son shout, “THERE SHE GOES!” Thankfully Jen jumped to the rescue and caught me before I tumbled out onto the ground. Twenty-three years later and this is a classic among our family stories that still makes us all laugh.

Finally, when my daughter, Morgan, was 3 years old, she told me she prayed for God to make me walk. I asked her what God said back. And as seriously as can be, she answered, “He said… maybe on Thursday!”

So I am still waiting but hoping someday Jesus calls me home on a Thursday so that her sweet prayer is answered!

Sticks & Stones…

Some of my readers do not know my story but I am a paraplegic due to complications after childbirth 26 years ago. In one of my upcoming blogs, I will tell more of that story, but it happened from a congenital defect that I was born with but was unaware of until I ended up unable to walk after my first son’s delivery. But this blog isn’t really about that… that is just setting the stage for tonight’s musings.

This week my youngest child (who is now a married adult) celebrated her birthday. Still wanting to make her a special meal, I went to the grocery store to get the ingredients for her favorite meal (tacos). As I drove, I was reflecting on my journey to being a mother of three “kids.” I hadn’t thought about it for years, but I suddenly remembered something that was said to me shorty after my paralysis which led me to this post.

Always wanting to be a Mom, I had my first son at the age of 23. He was a 9 pound, happy little guy, Zachary Ty. Falling immediately in love with this little life, I was thrilled to be his Mom. I remember those first days of motherhood clearly, counting his fingers and toes; listening to him breath; looking into his bright blue eyes; and even wishing he would wake up.

Immediately after his birth, I knew that I would want another one. For me, childbirth was four hours from start to finish so I knew I would eventually be ready to go through labor and delivery again to have another baby and sibling for Zach.

Unfortunately, like I previously said, there were complications and although the paralysis came about gradually, I was unable to walk within two months of his birth. Doctors were baffled at what was going on so it took months to get any answers. In order to get a proper diagnosis, my neurosurgeon in Reading, PA sent me to a specialist at Columbia University Hospital in Manhattan. Thankfully this doctor finally discovered what caused the paralysis which helped to save my life, but a few years later he told me something that both angered and challenged me yet ultimately impacted my journey into motherhood.

While I did not stay in contact with that particular doctor, I contacted him when Zach was two years old to discuss my options for having a second child. My regular doctors were not familiar enough with my defect to feel confident in saying it was safe for me to go through a pregnancy, labor and delivery again. (My original issue had not been able to be completely repaired so a definite answer was unclear.) Since he was the renown acting head of neurosurgery at a top US hospital, I was unable to speak to him directly. I left a detailed message with one of his nurses, hoping I would hear back from him. Weeks later I did hear from him in the form of a letter.

I still have that letter. Here’s the gist of it…

Since your damage was not completely repaired, it is difficult to say if it is safe to have another child. Currently there is no research to give a definitive answer so my recommendation would be that you do not risk your health by having another child.

That would have been enough of an answer for me except that he added a little bit more.

Besides as a paraplegic, I think it has to be difficult to care for a child from a wheelchair so I think you should be happy that you have one child and focus your attention on trying to raise him with your disability.

Reading those words upset me. While I know this doctor, who was a brilliant yet kind man, never meant anything negative with his words, it still hurt my feelings. I already felt insecure in my ability as a mom because life with a two year old was difficult. The adorable little stinker had run away from me or darted out of my reach several times so I had moments of uncertainty in my abilities to raise a child from a wheelchair.

After I had time to process the letter and came to the conclusion that all two year olds are difficult, whether you are a mom who is paralyzed or a mom who walks, my stubborn streak kicked in and I decided…

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!

No one was going to tell me that paralysis could or should stop me from being a mom to one, two or twenty kids!

With my new mindset, I was ready to try for baby #2…. or was I? Instead I found myself nervous and unsure if it was the right decision, questioning if it was foolish to risk my health to have another child; wondering if I could die leaving my husband and son alone; worried that more complications could arise and leave me in a worse situation than paralysis; or even if I would have the ability to raise another child as a paraplegic. Meanwhile, my stubborn side kept gnawing at me that I could do it, despite the concerns and fears of others. The question was… which was the right voice?

Thankfully Jesus intervened and showed me that there are many paths to motherhood. He completely guided Steve and I into international adoption and made it obvious that it was His plan for adding to our little family. (Another amazing story for another day.) When Zach was five years old, we adopted an almost 3 year old little guy from Romania, Alexandru Benjamin. Since I had immediately loved Zach, I prayed I would love my new son as easily. Every mom hopes that there is enough love in their heart for another child. Well I can truthfully say, there is plenty of room. One look into his big, sad brown eyes and I was a goner! I immediately and easily loved my new son.

Despite language barriers, emotional needs and a few discipline issues, it did not take Alex long to acclimate to his new world or Zach to adapt to his new role as a big brother. As for me, while I had moments of mom fails, I was settling into raising two active little guys. We kept busy going to the local pool, taking long walks, going on adventures around town and even having play dates. Unbelievably I even babysat a few other little boys, proving to myself that I could care for children from a wheelchair. Patting myself on the back, I was proudly proving that doctor wrong.

Months after Alex came home from across the globe, I began to get sick frequently. Loving my stay-at-home mom role, caring for my husband and two sons, it was frustrating to feel sick to my stomach often. It put a damper on our activities since I needed to run (or wheel quickly) to the bathroom and didn’t want to be too far from home. Finding out I was pregnant was a complete shock as well as a blow to my current state of contentment. Fear wrapped itself around both my heart and brain, allowing worry to settle in and doubts to crop up! How could I manage a high risk pregnancy along with my other health issues while continuing to raise two energetic boys? And how on earth would I manage a newborn, a preschooler and a first grader?

Honestly I don’t know how I managed it. But somehow I did! Giving birth to my beautiful, sweet 8 pound daughter, Morgan Elizabeth, is a miracle story in itself. Months of weekly doctor’s appointments paid off when both of us came through the C-section healthy without any unexpected complications (other than a nurse breaking my wheelchair after driving it into a wall). Growing our family from one child to three children in 18 months was not in our plan but thankfully God is wiser because I love my three children and their three unique stories of life.

Raising three children was indeed taxing on me physically and emotionally. I had many surgeries, hospital stays and health concerns while they were growing up. Many days I was exhausted, weary and lacking. Often I lost my patience, yelled too much and even said some naughty words.

Sometimes I thought back on the words of that doctor, knowing that I was much more than a paraplegic. I was a wife. A mom. A daughter. A sister. A friend.

So yes, it is true… I have physical limitations! As a mom of young kids, I could not kick a soccer ball when they wanted to practice at home; I could not swim laps in the pool on a hot summer day; I could not ride a bicycle through the neighborhood in the dusk of the evenings; I could not hike through trails with them to enjoy the crisp, fall air; I could not give “under ducky’s” to make the swing go higher and faster; I could not…; I could not… that list can go on and on of things I was unable to do with my children. And that does make me sad if I dwell on it. I wish I could have experienced those activities with my kiddos.

But was that doctor right? I don’t think so… I do not believe my limitations hindered my ability to be a mom. I hope that instead my children think back on their childhood and remember having dance parties in the dark to loud, thumping music; snuggling on my bed reading book after book; catching fireflies on summer evenings; throwing rocks and sticks into the creek to see how big the water would splash; doing crafts around the dining room table; riding on the back of my wheelchair as fast as it could go to the bus stop; or looking into the crowd and seeing that I was cheering them on at every game, concert, meet or recital. So while I may worry sometimes that they were jipped out of a normal childhood, I pray they know they were loved unconditionally and constantly by a mom who sat 24/7.

So my encouragement to myself and hopefully to others…

* Don’t let someone else’s words or opinions be a manacle around you, stopping you from pursuing something great. Instead use them as fuel to move forward, jumping over every hurdle in your path.

* Watch your words. Use them to encourage and spur on, not to tear down, belittle or hurt. The phrase “sticks and stones” is a lot of malarkey. Words are impactful and often get repeated as a mantra in one’s head. Let your words be a positive melody and not a negative clanging.

* Instead of letting challenges limit you, use them to build your character, your strength, your faith!

* Don’t focus on what you can’t do. Focus on the I can’s!

* And most importantly don’t let fear stop you from living a life of love and joy. Give it to God. Trust me, He’s got you!

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Lastly… I did have my tubes tied because while I wanted to prove that doctor wrong, I am not a fool! Three children was plenty for this paraplegic!