But why?

It's "nap time" (which, these days, means Winston sleeps and I spend two hours telling to London to go back to her room 4,700 times before finally giving up because she's woken up her brother) and I started to sit down for a few games of Candy Crush while eating a Fudge Round (my guilty pleasure). But instead, I feel like writing might be a little bit more beneficial for my current emotional state. So here I am, second blog in like two weeks, after not blogging for like 45 years - pretty much killin' it.

A week ago, I was laying in a hospital bed on the 6th floor of Rex Hospital. The area known as 6 East is the old people floor Neurology. I was the youngest patient by about 600 years and aside from an awkwardly crooked smile, no one could tell by looking at me why I was there. Honestly, at first, I didn't even know why I was there. And when I sit back and really think about the past week+, I'm not sure I'll ever totally understand "why" I was there, in the grand scheme of things. I mean, I know why I was there; I had a stroke. But I don't know why I had a stroke. As it turns out, despite MRIs and MRAs (with and without contrast), a CT Scan, an EKG, a bubble study, multiple blood panels, speech, physical & occupational therapy evaluations, and about 95 vital checks ... even the really smart people at Rex Hospital don't know why I had a stroke.

I had a stroke.

It's a really weird thing to say. In fact, when I asked a close group of mommy friends to pray for me (on the very short list of people who knew what was going on), a girlfriend said, "Only old people are allowed to say that!" Which is this idea most people have, and it's not totally untrue, but it's (obviously) not totally true either. I'm 31, and according to all the doctors, nurses and staff who saw me last week, I am as healthy as I can be. I don't smoke or do drugs. My cholesterol and blood pressure are low. I don't take birth control bills. I don't have any pre-existing conditions or hereditary risks. My heart & arteries are free from blockages and holes. Which is probably why, when I happened to mention the "weird symptoms" I was experiencing to my kids' pediatrician, she never said the word stroke. It didn't make sense, it couldn't possibly be, but I knew she was concerned, and she pleaded with me to take my symptoms seriously, and without her ever saying the word, I could tell she knew something was dangerously wrong.

My symptoms didn't fit the normal picture we are all shown of a stroke victim. I wasn't slurring, my face wasn't drooping, I had no headache and I was able to walk & balance fine. I had trouble speaking, but I was aware of the issue and was trying to compensate & cover it. I was calling people I know well by the wrong name, and couldn't think of the right words for things - not totally off-base for an over-tired mom of two little ones, right? I was foggy, disoriented maybe, so much so that I couldn't think of how to get to very familiar places, but I knew enough to plug the directions on my phone to get me there. I had trouble seeing, but figured it was from sleeping in my contacts or maybe I was overheated. No one could see anything wrong with me. No one, including me, had any inkling that there was something serious going on in my brain. I actually repeated the words of the triage nurse, "I might be having a stroke", to my husband and a friend, very nonchalantly while driving myself to the hospital. But when the neurologist turned to Ben and asked, "Does her smile always look like that?", reality set in, and that reality was scary.

I didn't fully understand what a lot of it meant, but I could see the concern in the staff members faces and the swiftness with which doctors & technicians were moving me from test to test, that told me they were taking this very seriously. It wasn't until a third person suggested the possible diagnosis that it finally sunk in. I was 31 and I'd had a stroke.

Now, before you go panicking like I did, there's varying degrees of strokes. Mine was considered a TIA (transient ischemic attack) or a "mini stroke". Don't you love how they use the word "mini" like it's this adorable little minor stroke? Like I'm supposed to be way less scared because it's only a little baby stroke, right? Hmmm, not so much. TIA was a new term for me, so here's the lowdown - they typically produce stroke-like symptoms but no long lasting effects. [For reference "loss of vision" and "trouble speaking" are the two things I said that waved a big red flag for the woman checking me into the ER. As it turns out, those are scary things that should always always prompt you to seek emergency medical attention - immediately #themoreyouknow ] Once I was already in the hospital, I experienced some numbness and weakness in my right side, but thankfully it was almost fully resolved by the time I was discharged.

While we can't really be sure (or at least that's what they tell me), it's likely that this TIA occurred because a blood clot blocked an artery for a short period of time. There's no real medical reason why I would have a blood clot, which means they can't say for sure it will or will not happen again. So when the pamphlet they gave me says "Good news! Stroke is largely preventable by reducing and controlling your risk factors," I'm like LIAR!!! But I guess the good news is that there's a reason they're all so baffled by my case, and that's because it's really rare for there to be no logical explanation. I take that to mean that, because you know me, your odds are really low of having the same thing happen. You're welcome.

I guess to make a really long story not so short, I am in this weird emotional place right now, and possibly a weird physical place but who can really be sure? I have a lingering pressure in my head, which I like to say is because my brain is working so hard. [I actually read that, in young people, the nerves near the affected area can try to learn the jobs of the damaged nerves, so I'm more tired because my more little nerves are doing two jobs] I'm really thirsty, at least partially a result of my body trying to flush out all the contrast dye they had to use for the MRIs. I'm waiting on the results of a few blood tests, which would tell us if I have a clotting disorder of some kind (unlikely that I wouldn't know it by now, after having two vaginal births, but you never know!). And the only possible link anyone can think of is the fact that I have an IUD, so I'm waiting to discuss all of that with my doctor tomorrow. But beyond all of that, I had this really really major scary thing happen to me, and nobody knows why or how or if / when it will happen again. That's frightening for my own sake, but especially for the sake of the two tiny humans I care for on a daily basis. A friend said something like, "it sucks to feel like your body has failed you", and that's kind-of where I'm at right now. I hate medical mysteries, I hate not having answers, but it sounds like I may just have to give this one to God and trust that He has a plan, which may or may not involve future TIAs or even full blown strokes, but He's going to take care of me through all of it. Writing that down, reminding myself of His mercy over my life, is really the best medicine, isn't it y'all?

I've been really on the fence about saying something publicly regarding all of this. A few people close to us know, and those who need to know because they care for my children, but I've kept it pretty private and I'm not totally sure why. On the one hand, I don't want people thinking every time I forget a word or a name that I'm having another episode. But, the flip side of that is that the more I'm able to educate those around me, the better chance someone will notice if and when it happens again. And really, if this helps even one person re-evaluate stroke symptoms and look at themselves or their loved ones a little more closely, that's all I can really hope for. There was a billboard on Capital Blvd. for awhile that said, "Time lost is brain lost," or something morbid along those lines, but it's true. If you suspect even for a second that something is not right, call 911 right away. They can do blood tests in the ambulance and have a stroke team waiting for you at the hospital so as to make the most of that precious 3 hour window. OK, this is super heavy ... Honestly, I don't need or want pity, even though this whole entry might sound a little "woe is me"; it was cathartic. I needed to really be in my feelings and take a good hard look at the whole situation. But I covet your prayers: for me, that God will calm my fears and remind me that He is in control of all of this, and of course for my healing; for the doctors, that they will be granted wisdom in reviewing my results and making recommendations for next steps; for my family, that they will be patient with me as I continue to recover from all of this, physically and emotionally, and that my sweet husband, especially, will have the strength to pick up all my slack, as he has been; and for everyone involved, to accept the fact that we might never know the "why" of this situation, but that God has a plan and His protection is my greatest assurance. I'm ok, I swear. And I'm pretty sure that Fudge Round is calling to me...

Parenting in a Politically Correct World

Friends, it's been an eternity since I last posted. I could give you a million excuses, but the only person I owe anything to is myself. I'm disappointed that I haven't kept record of the last year or so because life is moving at warp speed and I so desperately want to remember these moments, especially the sweet ones. But today, I'm going to remember a not-so-sweet one. Partially, because it's important to remind myself, and maybe some of you, that parenting is hard. Maybe sometimes harder than we want to admit. It's wonderful, and there are so many precious times while raising small children, but real life is ... well, it's not all precious.

Against my better judgment, I took both kids (3 and 1) to a very busy park on the first nice day after several unseasonably cold ones. I knew it would be packed, and I knew they'd likely spend the whole time running in opposite directions, but after a friend chastised me recently for saying I was avoiding public places with both of them due to the fear of the chaos (mind you, she only has one child, so ... you know...) I felt like I had to push myself out of my comfort zone and brave the 70 degree sunshine. Thankfully, two other mom friends were there and we were doing a bit of zone defense to help keep the kids under control. It honestly wasn't so bad and even though I wasn't able to socialize much with my friends, the kids were enjoying themselves, until London asked to go on the "big playground". I told her it was too far, that I had to stay in the small area with Winston but she could pick XYZ to do instead. A few minutes later, I caught her out of the corner of my eye on the farthest end of the very large playground. I took off running, leaving Winston virtually unsupervised, but for a few unassuming stranger moms who would hopefully intervene if he was dangling from a fire pole or something equally dangerous. I called her name, I counted to three, and finally I jumped the fence to find her climbing the steering wheel of an old caboose. I sharply and sternly yelled "LONDON CLAIRE" with not a shred of nonsense in my voice, walked over to where she was standing, and instructed her to get down and come with me.

Here's the thing, y'all, there were at least three other moms & their children on that caboose. And my raising of my voice at my disobedient 3yo caused them all to fall perfectly silent. Statues. Staring in shock. Judging eyes, waiting for my next move. Look, I'll be the first to admit, I am a firm mother, but I don't abuse my kids. I don't even spank them. They might have each gotten a few smacks on the hand when reaching for an electrical outlet, but that's about the worst of it. So I really didn't give it much thought to yell London's name across the playground today, but once my blood pressure lowered a bit, I started thinking. When did it become so unacceptable to raise our voices at our children? When did we become so politically correct that we are afraid to yell? And why are we not even a little bit afraid that we're raising a culture of sissies with all of these gentle parenting techniques? I'm not trying to break their spirits, but forgive me if I think a raised voice or a stern tone now and again is warranted. We're all so concerned with not offending anyone, NOT EVEN OUR OWN PRESCHOOLERS, that we're letting them run the show. And we have a million reasons as to why we're doing things the way we are, but I'm certain a good majority of us grew up with our parents raising their voices now and again - or worse, for many of us - and guess what: we're all moderately successful, functioning, respectful and socially adept adults!

Now let me clarify, it is 100% fine with me if you are able to effectively parent your child without so much as a harsh word or tone. I don't care in the least how you parent your child if it's working for you, but here's where I do care: 1. when the lack of supervision / discipline you're providing affects my kids and 2. when you start judging me for the way I parent, despite it not affecting your family in the slightest. I am not afraid of my children. I'm not afraid to piss them off. I'm not afraid of telling them no. I'm not lying in bed at night wondering if they're going to be in therapy in 20 years because I sent them to timeout after hitting their sibling. And while it is not my ultimate goal to make my kids afraid of me, I want them to respect authority. I want them to know that,when rules are made, they are to follow them. If that's not your cup of tea, great, do what works for you. But for Heaven's sake, can we quit with the side-eye?

A Letter to Ella Brooks

Dear Ella Brooks,

You may never read this. Or if you do, it may be years from now and you may have heard the same story over and over again throughout your life. How much you were wanted, prayed for, and loved, long before you were even conceived. The journey your parents went through to get them to you. The herds of friends and family members who prayed alongside your mom & dad, sharing tears of sorrow, and then of joy when we finally learned of you. It might bring a smile to your face as you recite it by memory as a child, and it might be cliche to hear in your teenage years, and it might bring tears to your eyes as an adult, if and when you are blessed with a child of your own. But there's more to it, that your mom will never tell you. So I'll say it now, and I'll probably say it a million times again as you're growing up - your mom is awesome.

Your mom is a lot of things to a lot of people. She's called "best friend" by quite a few. But I feel like I'm a bit of an authority on the matter, since I've known her for more than half my life at this point. We've been through A LOT (you don't get to ask questions) and it has strengthened our friendship in so many ways. As teenagers, we spent hours together, finding fun in the most mundane tasks. As college students and young adults, we drank way too much and soaked up every second of the time we were able to spend together. As 20-somethings, we stood by each other as we got married and the visits got further between but all the more meaningful (and we probably still drank too much). All the while, your mom has been the one to tell it like it is. She has always been real with me, even when it was hard for me to hear. She can talk me down or build me up. She will snap me back to reality while never letting me lose hope. She keeps me accountable in my walk with Christ, in my marriage, in my friendships and my relationships with family. She was a voice of experience when I was a naive 15 year old, many years ago when we met, and now she's a voice of reason when I need her most.

Your mom has stood by me through every step of my motherhood journey. She was the first person to find out I was pregnant. She was the only non-family member I called to say I was in labor, and she was at the hospital (4 hours away!) within a few hours of London Claire's birth. She was an obvious choice for Godmother, and I knew she would be an incredible mother someday. I didn't know what that journey would look like for her, or how long it would take, or how many bumps in the road there would be. I wouldn't wish all that on my worst enemy, but I know she and your dad have found a way to use those trials and tribulations to make themselves, and their marriage, and their faith in God even stronger.

Motherhood is the one thing we have not yet been able to truly share, and while I cannot wait for your arrival for so many reasons, I cannot wait for your mom to really experience all that it has to offer. She is going to handle this transition as beautifully and as seamlessly as she has all the others she's been faced with in her 32 years. She is going to rise with grace and courage, and hopefully I'll be there to pick her up when she's feeling less than perfect. Go easy on her, because I promise you one day you'll realize just how awesome your mom is, and you'll thank God that He chose her for you. I know she thanks Him every day that He picked you for her.

I cannot wait to meet you Ella Brooks, and I cannot wait to see my best friend as your mom.

XOXO,
 Aubrey