To My Son on his First Birthday

      Happy First Birthday, my beautiful, beautiful son. I know your dad will tell me that we don't use words like "beautiful" to describe you and he'll insist on words like "stud" and "awesome", but beautiful is exactly how I would describe you. From those piercing blues eyes, to your giant smile, and your love for everyone and everything- you have been one of the greatest gifts of my lifetime.

     From the moment I heard your heart beating, I knew you were something really special, but nothing prepared me for just how special you were going to be.  It's amazing how, even in your tiny form, you know exactly how to make us all smile. Like the way you bury your head into my neck the moment I walk in from a long day away.  Or the way you stand at the picture window waving to your dad the entire time he cuts the grass (as we all know your dad takes a loooong time to cut the grass). Or the way you let Hannah tackle you or put bows on your head even though we all know you're strong enough and tough enough to stop her. 

    With your fearless approach to obstacles, your love for people, and your perfectly giant smile- you will make waves, my son. I'm so proud and thankful to be able to live this life with you and for you. My wish for you is that the world is kind. That they appreciate your talents and embrace your quirks.  And that you remain kind in return.  Don't be afraid to put yourself out there or take chances. Your dad and I will always be there for you whether to celebrate your wins or rationalize your losses. 

     Dominic Lex, named after the Patron saint of hopeful mothers and my maternal Grandparents, you are the most wonderful blessing and the greatest answer to our prayers. You are unequivocally, my most favorite little boy.  You and your sister remind me daily of just how magnificent our God is, because of how perfectly made you are. I hope you know just how much you are loved.  Happy Birthday, my sweet boy! We love you a trillion x a trillion.

The Second Time Around

       It seems impossible to think that in 10 short weeks (or less!) we'll be embracing life as a family of four. It also seems impossible to think that its been forever since I last blogged anything. I know I say it everytime, but it's true- life got busy. So here's a quick little update to get us all caught up.
       Baby Grovie- is doing great!! Growing right on track and not giving its mom too much trouble along the way. Overall, I feel really good! Especially after the raging case of sciatica finally lifted around week 22. I thank my mom and my grandma for the good pregnancy genes! We're slowly trying to get Hannah ready for all the changes, but I don't think it will ever really set in until the baby gets here. 
       Speaking of Hannah, she's magnificent. She's definitely in the toddler stage and keeping Justin and I busy, but she's so fun! She's inquisitive, and loving, and a little stubborn (she gets that from her dad). She had her very first dance recital last month and while many people probably think I'm crazy for putting someone so little in a recital, she did awesome!! I have an insane fear of the stage, so it was great to see my little girl get up there and take it like she owned it. 
      Well, I think that gets us caught up! Justin and I are great too, but no one ever reads blogs to know how the parents are doing, lets be fair. ;-)

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Well, if you missed out announcement on Christmas, here it is!!!

628.8

     I've pointed patients to the outpatient lab hundreds of times, but I had never actually been there myself  until that day a few months ago. I sat in my own hospital, a place I had called home for many years,  twirling  a small script paper signed by my doctor with the code 628.8. I didn't know exactly what that code meant, I didn't need to. I knew what it meant to us. It meant my husband and I needed to close one chapter of our lives, and nervously prepare for the next. 628.8- infertility, female, of  specified origin. 

     Six words that will remain in my medical chart and in my heart for a lifetime. We knew there was a chance we would face fertility issues after we had Hannah- but I'd be lying to you if I told you that my heart really, really believed we wouldn't. We had this perfect little girl, and uncomplicated pregnancy, and what seemed like a million stories of couples who, like us, struggled at first, but ended up having several more children with ease. In fact, I believed it so much, that when my OB/GYN ordered repeat testing at my one year follow-up "just to see" I barely thought twice about the tests- Until I saw her number on my phone and heard her say  "significantly worse".  I cried for days. We told only our closest family and prayed for a miracle. 

     Fast forward to a few weeks later, we sat in a small room meeting our lovely fertility team for the first time.  Dr. B.- A Havard trained, former Ohio State football player, whose tough guy appearance can't mask the passion and love he has for his vocation. And his charming and encouraging nurse who some how always knows just the right thing to say. I wouldn't wish this path on my worst enemy, but leaving that day wasn't dreadful or sad. It was hopeful and exciting. My tears dried and I was starting to see a little light shine through that door that had been closed in my face a few weeks earlier.  He confirmed what we needed to hear and I'll hear those words every time I look at my daughter. "I'll never tell someone in your situation that you can't have children naturally. What I will tell you is that you were very fortunate to have had Hananh without help, and I don't want you to sit around waiting for that fortune to strike again." Dr. B confirmed two things for us-  1) We needed a new plan and 2) Hannah wasn't a lucky draw, she was our tiny miracle. Our daughter. Fortune- maybe?  Or, most certainly, a divine act of God telling us not to give up. Not then and not now. 

     And so we wait for our next miracle. Maybe she/he will come a different way, but a miracle none the less. 

Covered Bridge 2015

         The Covered Bridge Festival is one of my favorite fall traditions. It's an early morning road trip to the middle of nowhere, where fall colors cover the landscape and covered bridges become a reality- a yearly reminder as to why we live in the Midwest. The food is abundment and the crafts, antiques can be a goldmine or a bust. But what I really love is the time with family. It's a whole day after the craziness of summer and before the busy holidays to soak in each other. A day to remind us that even though we have tiny families of our own, we really are at our best when we're together.  In years past, we've rented a big church van and piled all of us in, but since most of my family works weekends, not all of us can go every year. This year was a special treat, as we got to go with my husband's side of the family too. I  know not a lot people can say this (and cheers to those who can) but my in laws are simply magnificent! Thank you, Parke County for hostimg tens of thousands of people, but most importantly, thank you for hosting us. We'll see you and your ham and cheese sandwiches next year!

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Erythema Multiforme

      Back in July, Hannah and I were playing on the floor when I noticed a few little hives on her arm. We had just finished a breakfast of eggs and strawberries (two very high allergens), but nothing she hadn't had before. Knowing well that an allergic reaction comes after one or several introductions to the allergen itself, I grabbed some Benadryl, kept a close eye on her, and told Justin to hold on eggs and strawberries until we saw the pediatrician. No big deal, I got this right? 

     I waited for the hives to go away, but they didn't. In fact, they continued to get worse. Ten hours later, the Benadryl wasn't working and Hannah's trunk was nearly covered. By 9pm, we were packing her into the car and on our way to the ER. Terrified for Hannah and, admittedly, for the repercussion of taking your daughter to the ED for a "rash"- there we were. Thankfully, one of the doctors I have long worked with in the Adult ED (who is also board certified in pediatric emergency medicine) was there and so was my awesome sister. Almost immediately, Dr. W. diagnosed Hannah with Erythema Multiforme- an autoimmune response to a viral or environmental factor that causes Bullseye-like lesions across the skin.  It is also the preliminary rash to Steven Johnson's syndrome, a disease process that took the life of my aunt and godmother at 36. My heart sunk when the doctor told us this. I glanced over at my sister and without, speaking a word, I could tell she was thinking the same thing. These are the times on my my life I count my blessing to be in healthcare. These are also the times I'm grateful most of my family is in healthcare. My parents and sister all took one for the team. Offering to watch Hannah while I worked, taking turns calling our pediatrician and pediatrician friends for advice. It lasted weeks, and when I wasn't there for Hannah, someone was. The first time Leo, Hannah's 5 year old cousin, saw her he woke up his brothers saying "somethings very very wrong. Hannah's sick, like really sick" and he was right. She was swollen from the steroids, drowsy from the Benadryl, and overall spent. But, We got through it. Hannah still has flare ups occasionally and they said to expect them for a year or so, but you know what I've learned?

1) No matter how seasoned you are in your own field of healthcare, when it comes to your children you lose the ability to reason. 

2) I have a really great family. 

3) I have really great coworkers. 

4) We are incredibly blessed to have a healthy baby. There was a fear in me that this was the beginning of something terrible and all I could think about was how much I took for granted having a healthy child for the first year. Sure, her flare ups are annoying, but they go away. And she's happy, really really happy. And so are we. 

God Bless America

"It’s fine if you are opposed to what Palmer did, but that doesn’t excuse you from the duty to be sane and rational. It’s a lion, after all. An animal. If you want to be really agitated by a doctor who kills living things, you should probably be less focused on this dentist and a little more focused on abortionists like LeRoy Carhart, who murder actual people. Carhart has killed bothunborn and born humans, and likes to do the former byripping the child apart while it’s still alive. Maybe the media should be camping out in front of his houseinstead of Palmer’s. Maybe we should be asking why doctors are allowed to execute babies, not why dentists are allowed to hunt African game." -Matt Walsh

I hesitated to post this at all, mostly because I try to avoid conflict and I know many of my friends do not share my own political views, but this one hits home and heavies my heart. How could we as a nation be so devastated  by the death of another animal, yet be so unaffected by the thousands of children taken from us without of voice of their own?  Christians are being beheaded daily across the world, women are suppressed, and children are starving, but those stories rarely make headlines and surface a passion within us. Our country needs a retreat. The kind where you sit in silence for long times, interact act only in prayer with others, and reflect on yourself and your own moral being. I say this often, but this week I say it with a plea "God Bless America"