Heartbroken is not a strong enough word......

Last Thursday I took Braylon to the vet because he had lost MORE weight and I didn't think it had to do with the growths on his gums.  I asked that they get him in for x-rays and they did.  What I was about to hear would rock my world.

(Braylon and our oldest son, Scott)

Dr. P (his vet) said that what she saw on the x-ray and what she was seeing from a quick blood test worried her that it was lymphoma.  She told me that his liver was incredibly enlarged, and all of the nodules she was seeing were on the liver.  But otherwise, everything seemed to be good.  She got us a referral to an oncologist and I called and they got us in the next day.

OMG.  CANCER?!?!  My dogs has CANCER?!?!  Calm down, Mandi.  It could be something else.  Dr. P said she didn't really have the necessary tools to diagnose.  It's not cancer.  Braylon doesn't have cancer.

It's Friday (last) and we had our appt with the oncologist.  LOTS of testing....and lots of bad news.  The oncologist had determined that it was, in fact, lymphoma.  She also found a large mass (half the size of his heart) in the middle of his chest.  She said that she wanted to wait to get the pathology reports back before officially confirming, but she was confident in saying that it was more than likely lymphoma.

Fast forward to today.  Pathology reports are in.  My sweet, wonderful, amazing buddy has lymphoma and it's in his liver.  That automatically makes it a stage 4.  To say that my heart is breaking into a million little pieces is a complete understatement.  It feels like my breath has been knocked out; like I have been hit by a truck.  Even though I knew, I just knew what the reports were going to say, it hit me like a truck.

Average survival is 9-18 months.  It can be treated but never cured.  As long as he can be happy and not hurt then we will do everything that we can to make his last weeks/months/etc the best of our lives.

I am happy to report, however, that he seems to be responding to what they gave him last Friday and has begun eating and drinking again.  He is also showing signs of his healthy, happy, wiggly self and I am happy that Braylon is back.

I am asking YOU for a favor.  Please say a prayer, send a positive thought, whatever you do for Bray.  He is such a tough guy but he is in for the fight of his life, for his life, and he will need all that he can get.

What seed are you?

Today in church the message really spoke to me.  It did the same last week, as well as pretty much every time I go!  We focused on Mark 4:1-20.  It's basically about a sower "sowing" seeds and just kind of throwing them everywhere.  Some seeds went onto stony ground, where there was not much earth and it immediately sprang up.  When the sun came out it scorched the plant because it had no root.  Some seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up around the plant, choking it so that it did not produce fruit.  And then there were the seeds that fell on good ground, that yielded fruit that sprang up and increased.

Pastor Bill goes on to talk about the different types of soils and gardening and in all of this I discover that, sadly, I am a seed that has fallen into the thorns.  There are things in my life that I need to let go of, that God wants me to let die, but until I can do that I will not be living a full and complete life.  I will not "bear fruit," so to say.  These things are not things I want to continue to think about.  I want to let them go COMPLETELY.  I want to let these things die (I don't literally want the people to die; I want my situation with them to die, to go away).  Why I am holding on to these things is beyond me.  Maybe it's because I feel like there is so much more to be said.  Or maybe it's because I feel that what was there was too good to let go of.  Or maybe it's because I still really care.  Whatever the reason, God spoke to me this morning to let these things die.  Let them go.  Everything happens for a reason.  People enter and exit your life for a reason.  Situations in your life happen for a reason.

So, tonight I will pray this prayer....

Lord Jesus, please be with me as I learn to let this situation die.  Please give me the strength to move on from what has happened and to grow from it.  I want to be the seed that flourishes and bears fruit and is bountiful.  Help me to continue to walk closer and closer with you, as I give my life to you every day to be the person You would have me to be.  I pray this in your Holy name, Amen.

All aboard!

The crazy train, that is.  It's here again, and when I looked back on when it happened with Scott it was around the three month mark.

At first when Noah came home things were great.  I wasn't exhausted.  Scott was really great.  Things were actually pretty easy.  But now I am tired all the time.  Scott has realized that Noah is going to be staying with us, he wasn't just a cute new thing here for a visit, and things seem harder than ever before.

Of course, there are a lot of other things.  I have a lot of anger and hatred in my heart and I don't want that.  I am also having some major image issues.  I was able to drop back down to pre-pregnancy weight fairly fast, but have gained weight in the last month.  I sometimes feel like Fat Bastard from Austin Powers: "I eat because I'm unhappy and I'm unhappy because I eat."  I have also been feeling completely overwhelmed and so incredibly unappreciated.  Unappreciated.  Yuck.  People who know me know it's not about gifts to me.  It's not about getting something, but Mother's Day came and went and I didn't even get a card.  Yes, I was told "Happy Mother's Day" but it isn't the same, you know?  That really hurt because being a mom is my job, it's the only thing I do, and I was just so shocked that I received nothing.  Now, for the sake of not sounding spoiled or something, I wasn't expecting any kind of gift.  But not even a card?  I have never felt that worthless before.

I have also been feeling like something huge is missing from my life.  Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my children, but sometimes I feel like I'm not contributing anything.

I did find a therapist and have seen her once already and have an appointment for tomorrow.  When I walked out of her office last week I felt like a new woman, so I am excited to see where our sessions go.

What is my point in sharing this?  I have no idea.  Maybe it's so that if someone else is going through what I am going through they will know they aren't alone?  Maybe it's so that I can vent these issues and get them off my chest?  I don't know.  I just know that I felt compelled to share this, so here it is....

Baby Noah

Noah Rex Smith was born at 2:19 p.m. on Monday, February 27, 2012.  He was (I am still in shock and have no idea how this happened) 11 lbs, 5.2 oz, 21.75 inches.  DAMN!  He was delivered via scheduled c-section.  He was named after my Grandpa Hoover (Rex) who passed away exactly one week before our first son Scott was born.  Noah has the most beautiful blueish/gray eyes and red hair.  Nick has red facial hair, as did both of his grandpas.

The minute I heard his little cry (probably because he was hungry haha!) I was completely enamored all over again.  Nothing, I repeat NOTHING, can compare to the first time you hear/see your newborn baby.  Don't get me wrong, I looooove Nick to the moon, but the love you have for your children is so completely different.  This surgery was a lot different than with Scott.  I felt pretty short of breath for most of it and I got insanely stuffed up, leaving me to breath out of my mouth with resulted in some seriously dry lips!  It took them so long to get him out, no doubt because he was large and in charge.  Nick went with Noah and the nurses to recovery where they continued to watch him and clean him up while I got put back together.

When I got to recovery Nick told me that Noah's breathing was really fast because he had some fluid that didn't get squeezed out of his lungs.  This was a concern for an hour or so, until the on-call pediatrician came in to check him over and gave him the ok to go up to our room with us!  We finally got settled into our room and I was ready to enjoy my first night with my new little guy and Nick.

Breastfeeding proved to be a big issue because he was SO hungry, and at that point I wasn't producing a lot of milk, but he seemed to be latching on ok.  Tuesday came and through the morning/afternoon he was acting kind of weird; kind of lethargic and not interested in eating at all.  I had told the nurse about it and the pediatrician came up and checked him out.  By early evening he was down in the NICU.  First I want to say to any parent who has had a child in the NICU my prayers are with you every second your child is there.  I pray for God to give you the strength to be strong for yourself, your spouse/partner, and your child.  That was the HARDEST thing I had ever had to go through.  Seeing my sweet little angel on that NICU table with all of the lights and monitors and beeping.  I lost it.  I broke down and lost it.

It turned out that he had an infection so they needed to start him on IV antibiotics.  After seeing them poke him what seemed to be 1,000 times I had to leave.  My body felt like it was going to give out since I had just had major surgery just over 24 hours earlier and for Noah's sake I needed to not be near him because I couldn't stay composed.  They ended up having to put an IV in his head because it wouldn't stay in his little hands, and the best veins are actually in the head.

We had to wait 48 hours to know if the infection was cleared up, so it sucked.  Thanks to the good Lord above, it really wasn't serious, just a case of needing some extra medicine that he couldn't get if he weren't there.  By Tuesday night, he was moved into the step-down nursery of the NICU.  His breathing was still increased, but every day it stabilized more and more.

Thursday came and I was discharged.  I had to leave the hospital without my little guy.  There was an incredibly empty feeling.  I was so glad to be home but we were missing a big piece.

Friday morning we were getting around to go in and see Noah.  We had his diaper bag all packed and his car seat in anticipation that he would be coming home today!  We were getting positive updates after the antibiotics had been started and with his breathing continuing to stabilize, we were SURE he was coming home!  Results of the infection came back and he was clean.  Overnight Thursday into Friday showed breathing was good.  He was getting discharged!  We were so excited and calling everyone to tell them and were so grateful he was busting out.  He had yet to get circumcised, so they got everything around for that and got that taken care of.  He did NOT like that.  Scott pretty much slept through his, but Noah screamed bloody murder through his.  I wanted to stop the doctor and demand she give him another shot of whatever she gave him because it did not seem to be working.  We got through it and he had calmed down and we were changing his diaper and getting his clothes changed when it happened.  A nurse in the room noticed his breathing was not good.  It was very labored and very fast.  She called the pediatrician who was on rounds that morning and she wanted to consult with the pediatrician who did the circumcision - who was actually Noah's main pediatrician (and Scott's).  After consulting with each other they told us he was not coming home.  Oh my God, I was hit with a ton of bricks.  He's not coming home? What do you mean?  You discharged him already?  After I was angry I calmed down and knew that we were lucky this had happened while we were still there because if it had happened at home would we have known what to do?  What if something more serious had happened.....would the 15 minute drive to the hospital have been quick enough?

Saturday came and went, along with Sunday and Monday and still Noah wasn't coming home.  But each morning they called me and gave me the update before we went in to see him and each day got better.  Tuesday morning came and Nick had to go back to work.  So, off he went and I waited for my morning update before getting Scott around to go see him.  The call came and I was told he was being discharged.  I didn't want to get excited.  I didn't want to go through the extreme joy and then extreme disappointment again.  I called Nick and told him and his boss let him leave.  So, we went to go *hopefully* bring our baby home.

Noah came home eight days after he was born.  I know there are parents who go weeks and months with their child in the NICU, and I don't know how they do it.  Noah was in there a week and I thought I would die.

And today, we have two beautiful little boys.  Scott, 2 yrs and Noah, 3 1/2 months.