{matters of the heart} the fight continues

It's been awhile since I've written. As my heart problems continue, I've been emotional, and my blog has always been a form of therapy for me, so I decided to journal my feelings again. This is probably a little scattered. 

Where do I start? It's been awhile. I was doing pretty well until this past March when one morning my defibrillator shocked me when I was getting ready for work. Because that was the first time it had happened, I panicked. I was pretty hysterical because it was scary. We went to the emergency room, and they said I was having atrial flutters. A few days later, it happened again. My doctor did an ablation procedure. After the ablation, everything was fine for a few months. I felt really well. 

However, things started to change within the last few weeks. Two weeks ago, my defibrillator shocked me again. I found out today that my heart rate was 250 that day. I met with my doctor today, and he said I'm not having atrial flutters anymore, but now I'm having atrial fibrillation, and my heart's been in it for the last few days. I was shocked. I had to ask him to repeat himself to make sure I heard him right. His plan is to start me on a medication that requires me to go into the hospital for him to monitor me for a few days. Later on, he'll need to do another ablation that will hopefully stop the irregular rhthyms of the atrial fibrillation. 

After having been shocked three times now, I walk around in this constant fear that it's going to happen again. I don't know if any of you have ever felt that before, but it certainly doesn't feel good. Because of this fear, I have a hard time relaxing. I'm jumpy and nervous. Noises startle me. I have a hard time going to sleep because I get afraid I'll get shocked in my sleep. I explained all of this to my doctor today, and he said I'm dealing with a form of PTSD, and that it's very common for his patients with defibrillators to have that. I got to thinking, "I can't have this...that's what people get when they go to war." And then I looked it up and found a medical journal article about it, and apparently it's a very real and common thing...

    "Many ICD patients cope relatively well with shock and are able to adjust and return to living life     without marked injury to their psychological well-being or quality of life. However, some ICD             patients, especially those who have received multiple shocks may consider the event traumatic and believe that their life was in danger and emerge with PTSD symptoms...An  ICD patient is         continually exposed to the threat of future defibrillation and must live with  a visible and tactile         reminder of this threat (eg, ICD pocket and scar)."

The article went on to talk about how patients experience "phantom shocks," where they reexperience it over and over, and I realized that this happens to me. It's almost like it's real sometimes, where you almost "feel" like you got shocked because you're so scared that you will and your mind is so consumed with that, and you imagine it. I know it sounds crazy, but that's exactly what's been happening to me. I realized that the emotional side of all of this is very real, and that I'm dealing with so much anxiety and constant worry about my ICD now. I have always been very open and honest about my entire journey, and I'm going to continue with my honesty about this part of it. I have struggled emotionally...more than I have before through my whole heart journey, but I have been vocal about it with my doctor and am working on it.

At first, I was so afraid to go back to work because of COVID and the risk of working in a school during a pandemic with heart failure. But now, it's honestly the best place for me. Working gives me something to focus on other than this crazy, broken heart of mine. My health is beyond my control, but things in my classroom are. So everytime I felt upset or discouraged, I went to my classroom and unpacked boxes (I moved classroooms this year). The more I was at school, the more at ease I felt. My co-workers have always felt more like family than co-workers, and they prove that to me over and over again. So many of them have reached out to me and offered love and support and even offered to help in my classroom. Their love knows no end. Today, I went in to work to tell my admin team about my latest issues and ended up ugly-crying in front of all of them and embarrassing myself, but no one judged me. You see, no one at work ever sees that side of me. They see Tough Candace. Strong Candace. They don't see the Candace that cries when she's alone or on her mama or daddy's shoulder. But today they saw the ugly, and all they said was, "We're here to support you, and we love you." 

My boss talked to me today about how I can't live in fear and I have to take each day as a gift, and he's so right. I needed that talk. Sometimes I lay in bed at night and cry because I worry I won't even live long enough to raise my own child. When you're 34 with a weak and messed-up heart, you think about stuff like that. The good news is, my doctor has assured me that these arrythmias aren't life-threatening, and while that defibrillator may scare me, and it hurts, the truth is that it WORKS, and I'm thankful for that. One of my concerns was that the shocks may be damaging my heart, and he also assured me that they're not. That made me feel better and eased my peace of mind a bit. 

So what now? For now, I'm back on a blood thinner due to the blood clot risk associated with a-fib. I'll go in the hospital soon for the new medication, and the ablation will be later on. In the meantime, I keep my faith just like I always have. I keep fighting. I stay strong. I'll keep telling my story. It's human nature to question why things happen to us, but I decided a long time ago that everything that happens to me was meant to strengthen my faith, to draw me closer to God, to quit trying to solve my problems myself and to lean on Him. I also believe that part of my journey is meant to encourage others, so I will tell every bit of my story, even the not-so-pretty parts about how discouraged I sometimes get and the emotions I've been struggling with because if I can encourage even ONE person with my story, then it was worth it for me to share my experiences. 

I'm grateful for your prayers always. 

{paper crafts} with sympathy

While sympathy cards are never joyful to make, I'm glad I was able to make this one for my mom to send to a friend who had lost her loved one. I dug some My Mind's Eye papers out of my stash and embellished with some stitching, a ribbon, and some liquid pearls. The simple sentiment is from a stamp set by Taylored Expressions. 

Thanks for stopping by!

supplies:
paper: kraft cardstock, mft whip cream cardstock, my mind's eye patterned papers
stamps: taylored expressions
ink: versafine black onyx
accessories: ribbon. liquid pearls, foam tape
tools:circle nestabilities, sewing amchine, corner rounder

{paper crafts} Thank You So Much!

Do you ever sit down to stamp a card and every idea you have just goes wrong? That's what happened with me today. A few years ago I sold my precious Copic markers because I hadn't stamped in several years and wasn't using them. Now that I'm finding my stamping groove again, I don't have any coloring materials except one small watercolor palette. I wanted to try to make a background for some stamps, but the old inkpad I wanted to use was dried up. It was one thing after another. I need to make a trip to the craft store and start building up some more ink pads. I'm seeing a lot of people using the Tim Holtz ink pads, so I think I'll start there. 

I finally remembered I had this Kindness stamp set and the coordinating dies from Sweet 'n Sassy Stamps, and I knew they would work perfect for this week's Freshly Made Sketches #378. This stamp set is no longer available at SNSS, but they do have lots of other stamps that I have on my wish list. 

For my card, I emobssed the background with my favorite polka dot embossing folder and used the dies to cut out each of the flowers (two small and one large) and stamped the flowers on each cut-out. The flowers are popped up with foam tape. I stamped the sentiment and finished it off with some ribbon. I used some older BasicGrey papers from my stash. 

This card is also for the Crazy 4 Challenges C4C474 - include a flower on your card.

supplies:

paper: cardstock, basic grey patterned paper
stamps: kindness by sweet n sassy stamps with coordinating dies
ink: versafine onyx black
accessories: ribbon, foam tape
tools: seeing spots embossing folder

God is Our Refuge

Hey y'all! We're on Mardi Gras break for three days this week, so I've been enjoying the downtime. I whipped up a card today - surprise, surprise! 

I used the Freshly Made Sketches #377 for the layout. I used a stamp set from Sweet 'n Sassy Stamps called "Our Refuge." I did a little embossing and machine-stitching on my card. It was good to make a card today; hopefully there will be more soon! Thanks for stopping by!

supplies:
paper: echo park this and that, my favorite things cardstock
stamps: our refuge by sweet n sassy stamps
ink: versafine onyx black
accessories: pearls, ribbon
tools: quatrefoil embossing folder by the paper studio, nestabilities, sewing machine

the heart of a mama who had to say goodbye

This is a post I've been trying to write for two years. It's one I thought I would carry forever because I never could find the words to say what was on my heart. It's also one I neglected writing out of fear...fear of being judged and condemned for a decision I made. I finally have the courage to tell my story.

A little over two years ago, I was expecting our second child. I was excited, as most mothers are, to welcome a new child into our world. Our family was a place where another child would have been deeply loved. Unfortunately, we didn't get that opportunity.

Not long after finding out I was expecting, I was at a check-up with my pulmonologist for asthma. She told me that she suspected I had a heart condition, and that if diagnosed, it would be fatal to both me and the baby. I was crushed but hopeful for goood results. We made the appointment with the cardiologist, and he did an echocardiogram. As I was leaving the exam room, he stopped me, took me aside, and told me that the tests confirmed my worst fear. The tears came right away as I asked, "How bad is it?" He said it was very severe. I knew what was coming. No one had to tell me. My worst fear had just gotten confirmed. We went back to his office later, and as this precious doctor fought back his own tears, he told me that he would recommend terminating my pregnancy. My heart wasn't strong enough to withstand a pregnancy, and the baby and I would both die. He said that he'd never told anyone that before. I could tell it was hard for him, but the weight it put on me was unbearable.

People say they'll never do things. I've read so many things this week that said "I could never do that..." As a pro-life Christian, I never thought I'd find myself walking into an abortion clinic in New Orleans, but with a sickening feeling in my stomach, that's exactly what I did. My obstetrician had made me an appointment there, and my aunt drove me and my mom. It was late December...a few days before New Year's Eve. As I walked towards the building, I just kept thinking one silent but strong prayer, "God, please make a different way." Most of you reading this have never been in an abortion clinic, but I have, and the memory lives with me. I didn't really know what to expect, but I remember walking into the building was like walking into a nightmare. It was in an old house with bars on the doors and a security guard outside. Women were everywhere. There must have been 100 of them; there were multiple waiting rooms. In the back, they took my blood and did an ultrasound. The doctor explained the procedure to me. I asked her how long I would need to recover, and then I asked her the only thing I really wanted to know..."Is there any other way? My baby doesn't deserve to die this way." I just kept looking for hope, but she said no. We had to make an appointment to come back later in the week for the procedure.

The next day, I was feeling very short of breath and ended up in the emergency room in Slidell. They admitted me to the Intensive Care Unit and transferred me the next day to the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit at Ochsner Main Campus in New Orleans. There they brought in a team of doctors including cardiologists and high-risk obstetricians. I remember telling the OB, "Please don't make me go back to that place," and she said that someone in my condition should not be there without proper medical care. If I wasn't in a hospital bed, I would have hugged her. After many tests and monitoring, that team of doctors decided that they agreed with my original cardiologist's recommendation. My doctor told me that it was the hardest thing he'd ever had to tell a patient, but that if I was his daughter, he'd recommend the same thing.

The next morning, they started me on medication which basically caused my body to begin the labor process. They were going to do the procedure the following day. I was heartbroken and in pain. Even more than that, I knew what was coming, and I was scared. That evening my sweet daddy was playing music on his phone, and I asked him to find and play "I Know Who Holds Tomorrow." Those words had never meant more to me than they did on that night.

Many things about tomorrow

I don't seem to understand

But I know who holds tomorrow

and I know who holds my hand

About an hour later at 9:00 that night, my baby left my body - perfectly whole - with arms and hands, legs and feet. He was around 13-14 weeks gestation. Some people say that a baby isn't whole at that point, but my mama and I witnessed it ourselves. Sure, his organs weren't developed, and he couldn't survive, but his body was already formed at that early stage in my pregnancy. Doctors from every department came running, and several stayed with me until the OB could get there. I will never forget sitting in the bathroom, shaking and scared to death, with my supportive mama on one side, and a precious nurse from pediatrics on the other side, each holding my hand. When the OB arrived, they immediately took me to the operating room to do a D&C. A cardiologist was in the OR to monitor me. The very next day, I was able to be started on medication that would help my heart, and I'm still being treated for my heart conditions today.

Some people could argue and tell me that God would never have wanted me to end my baby's life, but I believe that God heard and answered my prayer. He sent me to a hospital with compassionate people who treated me with kindness and sympathy. He provided me the best care possible in an incredibly hard and life-threatening situation. He gave me a family who stood by me while I made a decision that no mother should ever have to make. I believe God was with me in that abortion clinic, and He was with me in the hospital. I know that He's still with me today, and despite my choice, He understands and loves me still. I know that God can take all of my sadness and pain and use it for His glory.

I think a lot of people thought I just had a miscarriage, and I was okay with that because I was scared of what people would think about me. The reality is that I made a very personal decision to let my baby go in order to save my life. It takes a lot of strength and courage to make the difficult choice to say goodbye to your child and then face a world that condemns you for it. I have grieved and suffered without talking about it for fear of judgment from others. If love alone could have saved my baby, I'd have two little boys here today. People are lighting up buildings in celebration of abortion while my heart just aches over my own.

I loved him. My family would have loved him. He would have had an amazing big brother. I think all the time how different our lives would be if things had went my way, but there will come a day when I will meet him in Heaven. That's the hope I'm clinging to.

The song and lyrics below are by Shelly E. Johnson. She wrote this song after the loss of her own baby, and these words are beautiful.

I never got to see your face

or had a chance to choose your name

I never got to kiss your cheek

or watch what you'd grow up to be.

I never got to hear your cry

or soothe you with a lullaby

before I got to say hello

I had to let you go.

Hallelujah, to the one who gives

Hallelujah, to the one who takes away

Hallelujah! I am sure of this.

I'll hold you in Heaven someday.

Oh, what a sweet day that will be!

When I meet you on the golden streets

I'll run to you with open arms

and tell you just how loved you are

Then you will take me by the hand

and lead us through the Promised Land

and there we'll bow before the throne

and praise the God from whom all blessings flow.