Part 2

Forgive me in delaying Sloane’s story. I’ve realized so much of this is still so raw along with the fear and anxiety because of what we walked through with her and continue to walk through. Let me be VERY clear we are the lucky ones because there are many others that aren’t here to write a story as beautiful as ours. I tell the story because it’s painful, raw, full of fear, full of emotions, and in truth it’s real life. As I’ve gotten older I’ve realized everyone has a story worth hearing, but many of us don’t bother in finding out. Instead we are so wrapped up in our own lives we don’t even notice the person next to us who is struggling with addiction, who’s child is sick, or their spouse lost a job that they desperately needed. Instead we focus on our own problems never seeking out how to help a friend in need. I’ve also learned that sometime lending an ear, hand, or shoulder, makes our very own pain or struggle seem so much less painful. Why is that, maybe because we allow the focus not to be on us for once. Through Sloane’s story I’m pulling back the VERY layers that left me crippled in fear for years. Without facing them, walking through it, or understanding that purpose comes through our pain I wouldn’t be writing these words. So without further ado and I do hope I am much better this month in continuing our medically complex journey but if life gets in the way and I find myself enjoying the moments I’m going to do that to. Enjoy the moments because life is fleeting and when I’m hopefully old and grey I can look back and remember all the smiles, despite the anxiety, remember the laughter that filled my house despite the worry of the next scan, and say I pushed past all of that and I enjoyed the everyday moments that make up a lifetime of memories.

Waking up the day after our initial scan was a blur. I remember thinking everything that happened the pervious day was a terrible nightmare. A nightmare that I realized I couldn’t escape. Looking back it was like living in someone else’s reality. As much as I wanted to stay in bed and process what happened, life keeps moving. Graham needed to get to school, we both had work because we had bills to pay, and we had NO idea what was next so we needed to work while we could. I was working from home a little bit by that point and knew going into an office wasn’t going to work in fear of having an emotional breakdown while on a conference call. I also couldn’t be alone in my house with my thoughts, so I went to my parents. They lived 10 minutes away at the time and I knew I needed to be with someone.

So I packed Graham up for school, my work bag, and headed over to my parents to work. I seriously worked like nothing was happening, in between calls/meetings I would sob to my parents trying to understand what was happening. I think we were all in shock. We left the doctors office without knowing much. Of course we started googling and we honestly didn’t know what we wanted her diagnose to be. At first I was hopeful it was just a mis-diagnosis but as I started to replay the words and search on the internet what it could possible be - we were still at a loss. We knew we were waiting to hear from the MFM doctor when my MRI would be in hopes that it would tell us more. We also went in to to see my doctor and started to talk through what this could be.

images.jpeg

There were sooo many conversations that led up to us leaving Charlotte but the jist of it was - no doctor in Charlotte knew what they were dealing with. After looking at the scans, my doctors said we would try and do a c-section and meet with a brain surgeon here. He made one comment that stuck with us and probably helped direct our path. In the midst of our googling, we found children hospitals all over, Philly, Cincinnati, Boston, and Duke. He said don’t bother with the small ones if you’re going to leave - you either “GO BIG OR GO HOME”. That was it. As much as we wanted to stay in Charlotte to be close to our home, we left it up to God to decide our path and this is what’s crazy. He confirmed everything that we were thinking in one phone call. In between the googling, trying to decide what to do next, scheduling a c-section in Charlotte, meeting with a brain surgeon here in hopes they knew what they were doing. We started to read about Exit Procedures, we mentioned it to my doctor and he never heard of it. There were 3-4 hospitals that did this and it was known to save the unborn’s baby’s lives. I won’t go into the details but here’s a link about the procedure. https://www.chop.edu/treatments/ex-utero-intrapartum-treatment-exit-procedure

In between all the talks with my doctor, our parents, and now waiting on the MRI results we decided that if we needed to go elsewhere we would. As terrible as it would be to leave Graham we felt we needed to give Sloane every opportunity to survive. That was the first part. I had my MRI on a Monday and on Tuesday morning at 8 am the MFM doctor called me with an update. I can’t remember if she confirmed the mass on Sloane’s head was a teratoma but she said I’m sending your scans to the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia to see if they can help because no one in Charlotte has dealt successfully with what we are seeing. I hung up the phone and figured ok, let’s see what happens. I’m not joking, at 8:17 am (17 minutes later) the Fetal Center for Medicine from Philadelphia called my cell phone and said “We just received your scans and you need to get on a plane to Philly today, we can help”. First I was in shock I received a call so fast, second I wasn’t in the mindset to leave so I pushed back and asked for a later appointment saying we have a two year old who needs to be taken care of and the women on the other end was insistent……She said you are in risk of going into labor and if you go into labor your child won’t survive. I hung up the phone, called Jay and told him we had to go, called my mom and told her what happened and while we were on the phone she booked us two flights to Philly that afternoon. We coordinated everything we could in the shortest amount of time and headed to the airport around 3 pm. All we knew was that we had 8 hours of appointments the next day. In between the crying, packing a bag for three days, calling my boss, saying goodbye to Graham and the worry I think I was going through the motions. I just kept praying for whatever was on her head to be gone by the time we showed up. That whatever it was it would be ok. I literally ran to the doctors to get a note that I could fly and he asked me, why were we leaving since it was such a drastic change from trying to make it work in Charlotte. I said at this point when CHOP gave us hope, we had no choice but to hear them out. We owed it to Sloane, to our future family, and to our sanity to at least go somewhere that could tell us something more than, “we will try”. I had no idea when I boarded that plane I wouldn’t return to Charlotte for almost three months.

The beginning

July 16th, 2014 was the day that my heart shattered in a million pieces.  The feelings of helplessness and despair left me wondering if I would ever be put back together again.  Everyone has dates they remember; their wedding, their children's birthday, or worse the day they lost a child.  Unfortunately living in this reality we have too many dates marked in our memories for negative reasons.  While I will never understand the why, I have chosen to stop asking and enjoy the present.  Oddly enough, July 16th passed this year and it didn’t stop me in my tracks as it has in past years.  When I made it through that date I think back and smile. I smile because of how far we’ve come, I smile because there have been more joyful moments that have replaced those sad moments. I believe life is made up of these and what we chose to do with them is left up to us. So while I’ll never forget this day, I also realize that it was the beginning of us starting to understand and embrace our new future.  It gave us a glimpse of how strong Sloane is and how she was meant to be here all along.  

When I woke up on July 16 2014, I had no idea that we were walking into a day of unknowns.  I remember being anxious but not necessarily in a bad way.  I was anxious for answers and was honestly hoping to have a quick response by the end of the day.  My pregnancy with Sloane was for the most part normal. I had two scares in my first trimester and I thought for sure I was miscarrying but every time I went to my doctor they found a heartbeat and said we were fine.  It was early in my pregnancy, I think around 8-10 weeks, when the doctor confirmed I had placenta previa.  That just meant they would watch me closely but nothing overly concerning and nothing was wrong with the baby. Just lighter workouts and if it didn't go away by my third trimester which most do, they would do a c-section.  Due to Placenta Previa, I needed additional ultrasounds to determine if my placenta was moving and sure enough between 22-24 weeks it did.  All these extra scans showed the baby was perfect, the placenta previa was no longer a concern and we were left with a false sense of security.  After 24 weeks I started to gain a tremendous amount of weight but in full transparency I was eating a ton of ice cream with sprinkles everyday.  Also, everyone tells you that you carry girls differently than boys so I swept it under the rug.  Let me put into perspective how much weight I gained; every person I ran into would wish me luck and ask when the baby was due, assuming it was days/weeks away.  Sadly I was still two months away.  

After starting to get physically uncomfortable with all the weight gain, I knew I had some questions for my doctor at my next appointment.  Thankfully Jay was able to be there with me.   In hindsight we should have known something was off but we were working parents of a toddler and frankly I thought I was being a baby.  When we saw my doctor later that day I was in tears explaining the pain I was in.  He measured me and I was measuring at 42 weeks. I was only 32 weeks along.  Either the baby was bigger or I was retaining fluid which could mean a problem.  He ordered an ultrasound immediately. We weren’t prepared for what the next four hours had in store for us. Not one clue.  Also let me say this, so many people have asked how we didn't know sooner.  I think not knowing was the beginning of the many blessings we experienced through this whole ordeal.  I really believe if we were to have found out any earlier that something was wrong, the torture of “what if's” would have been worse for me to handle.   It also allowed us to be parents to a two year old who needed us which, in hindsight, I'm truly grateful for.  We enjoyed vacations and time with him without the anxiety and worry of what was to come.  While we have plenty of that now, we are better prepared for it and have learned how to adapt.      

ba7bcd637f5127748a4615ded5834ff8.jpg

We walked into the ultrasound room and our tech started to do our scan. Pure silence is always a bad sign. For 15 minutes she did all sorts of measurements and then walked out of the room without saying a word. In that moment I knew something was seriously wrong. I remember sitting in shock wondering what I did to deserve this and just sobbing without knowing what was wrong. My doctor walked in and I love this man because he was as gracious as can be in that moment. He simply said “there is a growth on the baby’s head/brain. It wasn’t there 6 weeks ago but it’s there now." We asked what it was and he had no idea but he made an appointment with another doctor who specialized in Maternal Fetal Medicine and he walked us over to be seen in hopes of learning more.  Thankfully we only had to wait 10 minutes and they brought us back.  A new tech started another ultrasound and mentioned a couple of possibilities. She said the only thing I’ve ever seen is a teratoma but was hesitant to diagnose that definitively since they are extremely rate. 

Now a new doctor walks in and starts going over everything. At this point I’m totally numb and freaking out. We called my parents to pick up Graham.  Jay and I are sitting in silence wondering what the heck is happening and trying to decipher what the doctor is saying. She starts off saying it’s either a teratoma or encephalocele - neither is good.  Then I'll NEVER forget her words right after: "You have the option to terminate your pregnancy, she probably isn’t going to make it."

I can't remember if I had tears at that point or was in absolute shock of the news.  In four hours we learned that Sloane had something on her head, no one knew what it was, she probably wasn't going to make it, and we were given the option to terminate our BABY at 32 weeks while she was still kicking/dancing and letting us know not to give up on her.   This girl has had a fight in her body since the moment we knew about her.   When the doctor asked me those words I knew it was bad. We decided to do an amniocentesis to do further genetic testing in addition to what we already had done and then they drained two gallons of fluid to make me more comfortable. By doing that I knew it could have sent me into pre-term labor but at that point my first though was, at least we would know what we are dealing with since no one knew.  

After the amnio, second ultrasound, and the question to terminate, we left with more questions, tears, and all the fears of “what if's.”  What was next, who was taking on our case, and where in the world do we go from here?   

My parents had Graham at our house. My best friend dropped off dinner and hugged me while I just cried and cried. After everyone left our house and we put our two year old to sleep I remember distinctly closing the door to Sloane’s nursery that I worked so hard on and wondered if I would ever bring her home to see it. That night I sobbed for hours wondering what was next and asking the question why. Why me? Why did this have to happen. It was probably the worst day of my life, feeling so out of control and with no ability to protect my unborn daughter.  Honestly when I look back on those moments they were so RAW and full of hopelessness.  Little did I know this is where the story begins. Waiting, waiting, and more waiting with lots of unknowns. Isn’t that how life is 99% of the time? I believe it’s how you handle your situation in the waiting moments that end up creating the next steps. In the beginning of all of this I asked WHY so much.  I think everyone does when faced with an extremely difficult time.  Through this,  I've learned that we aren't meant to know why.  I think if we did, it would overwhelm us so much so that we wouldn't press forward into the next part of journey.  

Beauty out of Ashes

He makes beauty out of ashes – have you ever sat around to think about what that actually means?  I have, and I know first hand out of our own pain and struggles; there is joy that might not have been found without walking THROUGH it.   I’ve contemplated this space, blog, or whatever you want to call it for a VERY long time. Back in January one of  my best friends told me I should start a blog and run a ½ marathon.  She told me I needed to set goals for myself.  I distinctly remember laughing and saying I hate running and I have nothing to say.  For some reason I’m now doing both.  At points while typing I've asked myself why, but then realized why not.  It may be hard and scary but you know what's worse.  REGRET.  So here I am attempting to be vulnerable and real about raising a medically complex child and walking this unknown path all while still trying to manage being a good wife, present mom, daughter, sister, friend, employee etc.. and let me be honest it’s HARD and lonely at times. 

IMG_0161.JPG

More often than not, I have wished there was a road map for our journey, wishing, hoping, and praying for answers.  Four year ago when our lives were turned upside down I remember Googling some of Sloane’s conditions and there wasn’t much to read and the doctors couldn't tell us anything definitive about her future.  Instead we live in 6-month increments, with appointments and therapies in-between MRIs believing everything is stable.  What I’ve started to realize in the midst of these waiting periods, maybe it’s better this way.  I don’t want a diagnosis defining our future of what she can and can’t do.  I want to push her forward to be the best she can be.  I remember telling the doctors that she can do everything everyone else does until she shows us differently.  Guess what, so far she does everything.  We were told she wouldn’t hear out of her right ear.   When I whisper in her ear that is sutured shut and tell her she’s a superhero, she repeats back to me what I've said.  When the doctors told us she wouldn’t be an athlete because of the tumor on her cerebellum, she is starting her first soccer season this fall.   It's incredible to see a child overcome the supposed limits of a diagnosis.  So I say all of that to say this - I hope this will be a space of hope and lots of laugher and learning together how to navigate the everyday challenges or raising medically complex kids but doing it gracefully and with JOY.