Life takes guts.

On September 21st my doctor officially diagnosed me with inflammatory bowel disease - ulcerative colitis. September 20th was my 3 month "anniversary" of the start of the disease symptoms. We've suspected UC for a few weeks now, but were unable to diagnose with the infection I had on top of it since the infection caused contradictions in the inflammation patterns. Even though it was suspected, having an official diagnosis hit me pretty hard. I got in the car and allowed myself a few minutes to grieve for the loss the "normal me", or as cliché as it sounds, the "old me". This is my new normal and I'm trying to go at it with a positive mindset, but that's easier said than done. I don't know what the future holds and that's terrifying to me ... 23% to 45% of patients with ulcerative colitis end up eventually requiring surgery. The medication options don't always work for everyone, and if they do work for a while sometimes your body stops reacting to them and they become ineffective. I was put on several different medications today (Prednisone... aka Satan's Tic-Tacs as I've seen people so lovingly call it) to start working towards remission. I've been very outspoken about my medical battles on my personal Facebook page, and I plan to continue to stay that way for a number of reasons... to inform, draw awareness... And because you never know who you're helping.

In these last 3 months alone I've spent a total of 6 days in the hospital as an in-patient while battling this disease, as well as for the nasty bug clostridium difficile colitis that was complicating it. I've been in the ER 7 times for labs, IV fluids, abdominal pain that was so bad it was causing uncontrollable vomiting, and yes - blood loss. I've lost 30 lbs from the onset of my disease symptoms, unintentionally. I was hospitalized for being malnourished, badly anemic (due to iron deficiency and blood loss), and low hemoglobin. I've had 2 blood transfusions and 4 iron transfusions. I received 4 bags of potassium chloride through an IV, and if you don't know how bad that hurts then consider yourself lucky! You don't know searing pain until they give you potassium via IV and your arm feels like it is literally on fire. I've had 3 CT scans with contrast and countless x-rays. I went through a dreaded colonoscopy and will have another one here in the near future... And believe me, the "prep" is the worst part of it... You have to drink 64 fl oz of laxative in a short period of time, and just pray and pray that you can keep it down long enough for it to work. Yuck. I was put on a clear fluid diet for a few days to give my body a rest. I have to go monthly now to have blood work done and have my levels checked out, I also have to be very careful to not be around sick people because my immune system is suppressed because of the medication that I am on.

There is nothing appealing about my disease. It's not glamorous, it's not fun. I don't get to "rest" while I am in the hospital, it isn't a vacation or a break. My body has waged a war upon itself and it's an all out fight to get better - to get to remission. I honestly didn't realize how bad off I was until I woke up from my colonoscopy and my doctor was standing there apologizing and saying they were going to have to admit me to the hospital, he told me that somewhere along the line someone had "really dropped the ball" because of how malnourished and how low my blood levels were. I was exhausted, yes, and I knew I wasn't getting enough nutrition because I spent half of my day (15 to 20 times a day) sick in the bathroom and unable to eat.

So this is my story as of now, and I'll continue with it here as more comes of it. I have an appointment with my gastroenterologist this coming Friday (9/30) and another follow up the week after with my surgeon. 

Emma's Birth Story

Emma made her grand entrance earthside right on her due date, August 4th.

Emma Leigh
8/4/2015
8#2oz 20"
7:17pm

On August 2nd I started feeling worse than I could stand. I was not progressing and starting to show signs of toxemia in late pregnancy, my blood pressure was high and I was extremely swollen. I experienced rapid weight gain and put on a total of 70lbs. I was seeing lights flashing and had a bad headache. It was more than the typical "I'm full term in dead summer and feel like hell". I called my Dr to tell him that my blood pressure readings had me worried since they were high and climbing and he advised me to go to labor and delivery. I hopped on the table in triage at L&D and got hooked up to everything, laid back and relaxed for two hours listening to Emma's heartbeat while being monitored. The nurse came back in and said that my Dr wanted to induce me tomorrow night, the night of August 3rd, my jaw dropped. Excitement, anxiety, nervousness kicked in. This is it. I'm having a baby! Probably not that night but definitely soon. A baby. My baby. Our baby. Finally.

She gave me something to help me sleep and sent me on my way. I was prepared to go back to L&D the next day at 4pm to start induction via Cervidil. I couldn't sleep! Even with the medication. I kept praying and willing my body to go into labor on its own... I was terrified of being induced (it was against my birth plan, I'd read all the scary stories, stressed the pending mom shame, etc) but I knew it was what was medically best for me and baby. I had been through childbirth before, 8 years ago, but I felt so ill prepared... Especially since my first daughter's birth was so easy, textbook pregnancy and labor with no complications, and I didn't need to be induced.

The next day I got up and double checked everything. I ate light. I took a shower and shaved my legs. I read everything online about Cervidil and watched the clock tick. It was weird being able to prepare for it while taking my time.  I remember walking out the door with our hospital bags in hand and Chris saying to me "when we come back home, we'll be coming back with our baby."

We drove an hour to the hospital and got checked in. We settled into our delivery room and they let us order dinner. I wasn't allowed to eat anything past midnight so I tried snacking lightly. I was horrified of pooping on the delivery table so I ate light. Yeah I was that girl, I know it's normal but I was like nope - not me!  I had Sprite, a roll, and chicken broth... Plus a lot of ice chips. In hindsight I should've eaten EVERYTHING all the way up to midnight! Chris's family came by and hung out with us for a little while.

At 6pm my nurse came in and explained everything and inserted the cervidil, it was a little uncomfortable being placed,  and at 10pm they gave me some sleeping medicine. At 3am I woke up to a few contractions and the nurse checking my vitals, got up again to pee around 5am and when I went to lay back down the nurse came in... No progress! Nothing. The cervidil didn't work for me. I waited until 7am to see what they wanted to do next. They started a pitocin drip and asked if I wanted an epidural. I told them I was undecided but that I'd let them know if I decided that I wanted one... I allowed myself to be open with it because I didn't know what to expect pain wise with the pitocin.

They started the pitocin drip. I was worried it would cause me to need a C-section because I was 0cm and 0% when they started, like I said I read the scary stories... Don't read the scary stories. Chris's family came back over to hang out while I labored. Around 11am the midwife came to check, still nothing. She said she'd be back around noon to break my water. She couldn't get it to break the first time and it was pretty painful so she decided to let me rest and try again.

The second time she finally got it, I had to be held down by Chris and the nurse because it was very uncomfortable and I was climbing up the bed to get away from her, and again the nurse offered an epidural. I refused, so the midwife had me get up to use gravity to my advantage and bring baby down. I sat in a rocking chair and rocked. I felt the contractions and pressure immediately start getting intense and I couldn't really talk through them. I held Chris's hands and breathed. They felt different than what I remembered. I had bad back labor and my hips burned and hurt so bad.  Chris said I didn't complain about my hips one time, I'm very surprised I didn't! They were bugging me more than the back labor. Water gushed with every contraction.

Finally I wanted to get back on the bed. I labored laying on my side. I stopped talking, even between contractions for the most part at this point. I was tired and hungry. The nurse asked again if I wanted an epidural. "No." she checked me and I was at 7cm, stretched to an 8/9 during contractions. The waves were intense and lasted longer, I started feeling nauseous through them and groaned. I grabbed the bed railings and squeezed, burying my face into the side of them. My face felt hot. Chris gave me a cold wash cloth, it felt amazing. Again, the nurse asked about an epidural. "No." She was starting to make me mad. She asked "Why do you not want one? What's your reason? It's okay to get one. You don't have to prove yourself here." I groaned through my teeth, "No." once again. I started to doubt myself at this point. Her words certainly didn't help. I had thoughts of not being able to do it. I realized now that I was in transition. I kept thinking "I can't do this anymore!" I told Chris to call the nurse back for the epidural. She came in and started IV fluids, a half hour later the anesthesiologist came in. The epidural hurt so bad trying not to move through contractions! I remember telling Chris I thought I was going to throw up on his shoes, I mumbled a few times about passing out. My mind raced through contractions and I tried breathing through them.

The epidural didn't work. It didn't work! I kept urgently telling the nurse to call them back while moving my legs and toes. She had me lay in a different position to see if that would kick it in. Finally the anesthesiologist came back and gave me an injection for the pain intravenously. Still not feeling much relief. They did another check and started a catheter, I felt all of it, I was 8cm.

Minutes later I was feeling intense pressure, I had to stop myself from pushing through it. I could feel her descending with every wave. I kept telling Chris and his mom they needed to get the nurse back in the room ASAP or one of them would be catching a baby. I knew it was time. The nurse came in and had me do a practice push. I could feel her coming down, and pushing was a huge relief. She called the nurses station and said "room 7 is about to have a baby, call the doctor." I felt excited. She told me to keep pushing when I needed to and started prepping the room. Chris had my left leg and his mom had my right. Finally my doctor came in. I felt like I had pushed for forever. It was amazing to be able to feel what my body needed me to do. I knew when to push, how hard to push, when to ease off. I felt her crowning. Oh my goodness, the burn. I managed to crack a joke, "Oh! So this is why they call it the ring of fire?!" My doctor laughed and said, "I can't imagine why they'd call it that." then a few more pushes and her head came out. At some point Chris had moved towards the end of the bed beside the doctor. I pulled my left leg into my ribs, closed my eyes, and pushed hard one more time. I heard Chris's mom yell out, "Open your eyes! Open your eyes!"

When I opened my eyes, there she was. My baby. Our baby. Dark hair, button nose, the chubbiest cheeks, and the rest of the room disappeared. I looked over every little thing, counted fingers and toes, kissed her cheek. Immediately nursed her skin to skin. The doctor used local anesthesia since I felt him start stitching me up, and finished it while I nursed her. I finally looked around the room and noticed Chris was by my side. I smiled.

I was starving! I remember that was one of my first thoughts. I'd been hungry all day. I complained about being hungry the whole labor and finally, over 24 hours after my broth and roll,  I could eat. They took Emma to weigh her and check her vitals and let Chris hold her. Every one came in to see her.

When everything settled down they moved us to a postpartum room, in silence and calm of it all, my emotions hit hard. Here is this little person. My little person. The little that person I grew inside of my body and nourished for 40 weeks. She's mine. And I am hers. Forever. I didn't sleep. I stayed up, looking at her sleeping and breathing. I cried. I remember thinking about how small she looked in Chris's arms. I thought about how I would just die if anything ever happened to her. The postpartum nurses were fantastic. The night nurse even made Emma a bow hat from the hospital hats. They were so supportive of breastfeeding.

Chris was amazing from start to finish. I'm so lucky he's Emma's daddy and my partner. He helped me through my postpartum healing process (which was not easy) and listened to me cry every day for two weeks straight.

Now Emma is three months old and we both can't remember what life was even like before her... She's the highlight of my day. God has truly blessed us with this precious little girl. :)

I suck at being pregnant. 33 weeks.

There's really no other way to say it, I suck at being pregnant. My body has tried to fight off this pregnancy from the beginning, and problem after problem has ensued... But I am blessed with a healthy baby that I'll get to meet in less than 50 days - despite the odds that were stacked against us.

In the beginning we didn't know if we were going to make it out of the 1st trimester, I stayed in the high-risk category the whole first half of my pregnancy. I've struggled with spontaneous and unexplained bleeding through the entire pregnancy that came with hospital visits and late night phone calls to my OB, severe hyperemesis gravidarum until 20 weeks that was accompanied by nasty ptyalism that had me spitting in a cup every few minutes, dehydrated in the hospital receiving fluids, worries over baby's health because of my use of Zofran that I took until 18 weeks to help the HG, excessive weight gain since in early pregnancy I was working overnights and all I could occasionally hold down due to HG was carbs.

28 weeks + 1 day.


My body has really been put through it these past 33 weeks, it's really exciting that there's only 7 weeks left to go. I would've loved another easy "text book" pregnancy like I had with Madison 8 years ago, but I'm also thankful for my struggles through baby E's pregnancy to open my eyes. It feels rewarding to me, in a sense, because I've fought to stay pregnant and carry her to term. I'm also very lucky to have my amazing boyfriend there to support me through this crazy journey.

With that being said - thank you, Chris, for going to every single baby appointment, hospital visit, and waiting outside the bathroom door while I made some ungodly noises and tossed my cookies for 20 weeks straight. Thank you for cooking for me, bringing me drinks, and fulfilling my pregnancy cravings. Thank you for listening to me whine and cry about aches and pains, for holding my hand, and giving me a shoulder when I've needed it. Thank you for loving me despite my crazy hormonal outbursts, forgetfulness, and stubbornness. Thank you for being baby E's daddy - you're going to make an amazing father and I can't wait to see you two together.

Dear mom,

I've battled over and over how I was going to write this post, or if I was even going to write it at all because of the amount of painful memories and feelings that it brings back. I feel like it's finally time that I speak out and share some of my memories of my family.

L to R: My dad, my mother, and Judge Sam Dills
 Married 3-11-1978 in Ringold, GA 


It's never easy losing a parent. In 2005, when I was just 17 years old, my father passed away. I remember being in the hospital room and feeling like the ground beneath me had just broken apart when the monitor started ringing and the nurse announced he had gone "v-stat". I still have no idea what the term itself means, but I knew then that it meant he was gone. I remember feeling robbed because I didn't get to say goodbye to him, because I wasn't allowed to apologize to him for being a mostly shitty child, because he wouldn't get to see me grow up and get married or have children, because my mom and I had no idea how to survive without him - he was our rock, and mostly because there was still so much more that I still needed to learn from him. He was gone, and my mom and I were alone. We had no idea what to do and stayed up late night after night crying and worrying about financial troubles and what we were going to do to make it by. Somehow through out our mourning and being completely lost souls it brought us closer together, it made us a team, and we formed an inseparable friendship.

My mom and I the day that I got married. 2006

The first year was the hardest on my mom, she suffered from type 1 insulin dependent diabetes, and in her depression she was not eating properly so her blood sugar was all over the place. I would wake up in the middle of the night to her screaming and crying out for my dad in the middle of an insulin reaction. It scared me, I had no idea what to do, I was so scared of losing her too. Of course, I knew how to care for her and her reactions when they came on, I had been doing that from a very young age, but they seemed so much more emotionally intense now. There was anger and sadness behind them and all I could do was bring her out the reactions and try to comfort her back to herself again.

My mom and Madison, 2007.


6 months after my dad passed away I found out that I was pregnant with Madison. My mom and I both felt a sense of joy and calm, things began to look up. She came with me to my doctor appointments, we hung out almost every day even though I had moved in with my husband at the time, she was there for me through all of my worries and fears. Some of my favorite memories of my mother are during my pregnancy; when she first placed her hand on my stomach and felt Madison kicking, when she came to sit with me at my house while I was in early labor and I was driving her out of her mind because I just couldn't sit still, the delivery room and having her there holding my hand through the whole labor and telling me to "push". My mother barely left my side.

L to R: My aunt, my mother, Madison & I (yes, I am breastfeeding in this picture), & my two cousins.


One of the most heart wrenching things about her death is that when she passed I was 350 miles away from her. It was unexpected, the phone call broke me into a million pieces - pieces that I am still trying to put back together, I ran screaming for my room mate at the time and collapsed on to the floor and fell apart. I screamed, cried, and begged God to give her back to me. I felt alone. I felt ashamed, I should have been there. Why wasn't I there? A few weeks prior I had talked about moving back home with her in Georgia because I was having some troubles living in Florida, and she told me to "come on". I should have, I should have jumped up right then and there and rushed home, but I didn't. I guess that's the part of life that no one warns you about, it is unexpected at times, and it can be cruel and unforgiving. It will leave you wondering for years to come why you didn't take a chance, or why you let yourself miss an opportunity.

RIP Mom.


The coroners office would not allow me to see my mother when I arrived in Georgia, though I was the only one who could release her body... They had already performed an autopsy by the time I was able to speak with them. I was angry, I felt like I was missed that closure, I should have been able to see her one last time to kiss her forehead and tell her goodbye. I was 24 years old and having to set up a memorial for my mom on my own, it was frustrating and confusing and I'm still not sure how I managed to actually pull it off. I stayed in Georgia for a few weeks and slept in her bed a few nights. I wanted to stay there forever, but she wasn't there and Georgia just did not feel like home anymore. I felt lost, I still feel lost at times.

My mother and I when I was 6.

I'm so blessed to have had such an amazing woman in my life. It's been two years to the day that my mother left this Earth and I have to say, it hasn't gotten any easier. In fact, I've had to take multiple breaks while writing this to go to the bathroom and breakdown. I have a mountain of tissues next to me from having to wipe my eyes. I know everyone always says "she will always be with you," and I do believe that, but it's hard not being selfish and wanting her here physically. There is nothing in this world that I wouldn't give just to hug her and have a conversation with her one more time.

An older picture of my mom in Florida.


I lost both of my parents before I turned 25 years old. It's taken me a long time to not be bitter about the hand that I was dealt, instead I am so happy to have had such loving parents. Some days are definitely harder than others, some days I get mad and selfish and wish they were still here with me. I get upset and feel alone still some days, there's an emptiness inside of me that I don't think will ever change. My parents loved one another, they fought for one another, they fought for me to be able to have the things I needed and some of the things that I wanted, they were an amazing support system. They had an amazing marriage, and were perfect together. I am glad that they showed me the way a marriage should be. I am blessed to have had them as leaders and role-models in my life. I am glad that my mother was able to be there for the first few years of Madison's life. I will make sure that my children always know who my parents were... They will never be forgotten, and their short lives will always be celebrated in my home.

Dad 12/20/1954 - 12/14/2005
Mom 05/20/1954 - 01/17/2013


Life is so very short, and tomorrow is never promised. Tell your loved ones every day how much they mean to you. Do little things for them, things that may seem insignificant, because in the end the memories that we make are all that we will have left. Write them down, tell them out loud, take pictures, share them, get them out there - because one day you'll want to look back and you'll want to remember - I promise you will want to remember.

11 Weeks! The struggle with hyperemesis gravidarum.

Well, I spent some time in the hospital last week due to dehydration and not being able to hold anything down. We waited a good 4 hours to get taken back and then I was given a few rounds of fluids and Zofran (finally! an anti-nausea medication that WORKS). They monitored me for a while and checked on the baby as well and I caught a peak at the baby on the ultrasound and my goodness(!) s/he has grown! I am so excited to be nearing the end of the 1st trimester, hopefully I can leave this nagging morning sickness with it as I advance into the 2nd trimester and get some control back over my daily life.

I have another baby doctor appointment on Friday, I'm not sure what to expect since I've already had 2 scans so I'm not really expecting another one for a while now. They are doing two biopsies then so I am a bit nervous about the pain and how the procedures are going to work, and whether or not they're actually doing both of them at the same time, I just can't imagine having a needle anywhere near that area can feel very pleasant... But luckily I have the weekend off so I can rest and recover if it's too terrible. (Of course, in my mind I've already played out that they're removing a third of my "V" and I won't be able to walk for a month, although I'm sure that's not the case at all and it'll be simple with barely any pain.)


Before I leave I thought I'd share some things I find pretty humorous that trigger my morning sickness. (It's funny and I chuckle about it only AFTER I pull my head from the toilet... Ugh.)

• Opening my purse - no seriously... If I open my purse and can smell the inside of it (the mixture of money, make up, hand sanitizer, and whatever else is floating around in there) makes me retch. I've started carrying bags in my purse just. in. case.
• The smell of my job.... Yep! My job makes me physically ill! Not the work involved or the people, though. The lobby I work in just has a particular smell to it that I guess I have started to associate with throwing up... Yuck.
• My car. Riding in it, driving in it, BEING in it = instant vom. The smell of it has started to get to me as well, so I crammed 4 Strawberry Lemonade air fresheners in the a/c vents.... It seems to have done the trick for now. And smells delicious.
• Peanut butter crackers. I  simply overused them. They were a godsend in the beginning but you can only throw something up so many times before it becomes absolutely repulsive. Keep those nasty little devils away from me.
• The feeling of throwing up. That's right... Throwing up causes me to throw up again. It's a never ending cycle of vom, then crying, then voming again. Over it... I'm so, so over it.

And here's a picture of our little peanut from 7 weeks 1 day:

your baby's the size of a lime!

Your fetus is about 1.6 inches long, and she's got about a 1:1 head to body ratio. She now weighs in at about .25 ounces.

your baby at 11 weeks

• You can't see it, but she's moving fluidly and gracefully in there.
• Her skin is see-through, but she's on her way to looking more like a baby.
• Her fingers and toes aren't webbed anymore.
• Tooth buds, hair follicles and nail beds are forming.

Trading in our Silent Nights

Thursday November 20th, 2014 started out like every other morning (well, technically afternoon – being that I work overnights). I rolled over, groggy, to the sun shining in my eyes through the blinds of our little house. The past couple of days I’d been feeling completely exhausted, drained, I mean I couldn't even peel myself out of bed type of tired. I just knew. I knew that something was different. I got out of bed and walked to the restroom, grabbed a box from underneath the sink. Chris, my boyfriend, has just woken up as well. We began joking back and forth, “I don’t know why you even bother, and you know what it’s going to say.” I tried to downplay my thoughts and emotions. Thinking over and over in my head, nah, it couldn't be. A couple of minutes had gone by before I finally looked down; the pregnancy test that was lying on the counter clearly read “Pregnant”. I gasped and my hand instantly covered a smile that had instantly and effortlessly formed across my face, Chris had brief a look of shock before we both started smiling and laughing. My eyes watered up. I knew it... We’re pregnant!

 I went to the clinic and had the pregnancy confirmed. As I’m writing this right now I am 4 weeks and 4 days. Our estimated due date is August 4th, 2015. I have also set up my first prenatal appointment; it will be on the 17th of December. We’re both just over the moon about it, and we’re both a little bit nervous. The waiting period from seeing that positive test (… or 7 positive tests, ha) to the first appointment to confirm viability is a true test of patience. We both just want to know that our little bean is doing okay in there and progressing as it should.

 I've decided to publicly blog my journey through pregnancy so that our family and friends can follow along with everything that is going on in one place. I also wanted to be able to look back and remember the little moments, the silly cravings, first baby kicks, and to document the changes that my body will be going through.