Fear.  Does fear ever hold you back?
I know it holds me back.  It's held me back for the last 5 years.  It's kept me from living my life and succeeding.  I mean... what if?

What if:
... something happens to my kids
... I get in a car accident
... I eat too much
....I exercise too little
... I don't lose very much weight
... I don't lose any weight
... I gain it back
... he doesn't like my body
... people stare
... I finish last
... I FAIL

How many times have these "what ifs" held you back?

I hear it over and over and over again.  I'm scared I'll fail, I won't succeed.  I don't want to start a weight loss plan, because I'm scared that I won't be able to commit.  I'm scared to start because Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, my birthday, my dogs birthday... you fill in the blank is coming up.  I'll just wait...

And then you wait... and wait... and a day turns into a week, turns into a month, turns into a year, and suddenly your "baby" is turning 5!


And fear held you back and you are back at square one with your weight loss and you are discouraged and sad about how much time it took for you to get to that point and you are overweight... obese, by over 100 lbs again.

FEAR... it is the enemy my friends!  Take it from a person that has been to hell and back again.  Don't be me!  Don't let fear control you.  Don't let it stop you from starting, getting healthy, and being AWESOME!

There are still 11 weeks left of this year!  in 11 weeks you could be healthier, stronger, happier, shrinking!   Don't be Afraid to be AMAZING!



Right now I'm in a 12 week challenge group, and we plan on nothing stopping us for the rest of the year!  If you want information on joining send me a message on Facebook!  I would love to share accountability with you!

The spot is gone!
Lily came through surgery beautifully, and we were home by noon yesterday!  God is so good!

I'd be lying if I didn't admit to having a bit too much fear gripping me yesterday between about 7:30-9:00 am.  I started out so calm, I stood beside her during all of the pre-op preparation.  I signed her life away on the release form, and a nurse held out her hands for my baby.  It all happened so fast, and there they were walking down the hall to the OR with her, and I saw her waving and smiling the whole way, giving doctors and nurses "five".  That was the last time I would see the spot.  The last night I would see my daughter exactly as she was born.

The surgery was projected to take around an hour.  About an hour and 15 minutes in, I suddenly felt like I was going to lose the muffin I had just eaten.  I had about a thousand thoughts rushing through my mind, all of the "what ifs", a lump in my throat, I looked at my husband with fear, and said, "What do you think is wrong?"  Luckily, it was only about 5 minutes of pure panic, until the receptionist came over to me, and said they were in the process of closing up, and the surgeon would be out to speak with us shortly.  It was enough of an update to get me through the next 15 minutes or so, without completely losing it. 

Lily's surgeon was a kind man.  He assured us everything went great.  I had to ask him the question, I so desperately wanted to know.  I asked, "What was it?"  He assured me it was indeed exactly what many doctors before told me it was, simply fat, skin, and tissue that had collected as part of her hygroma.  Likely left when it ruptured around 28 weeks.  He told us that we'd be allowed in recovery in about 10 minutes, and just like that it was pretty much over with.

I breathed for what seemed like the first time that morning.

We waited another 10 minutes or so until we were ushered back to see her.  She lay on the bed all hooked up to wires and an IV.  The nurse introduced himself and said that I could hold her.  I sat down and he handed her to me, and what I saw next amazed me:  the back of my daughter's head, not beautiful and perfect like I had imagined so many times in my head it would look like when the spot was gone, but horrible, and scarred, and bloody, and huge!  The incision ran from the middle of her neck, to the middle of the back of her head, it was oozing puss and blood, it was big- probably 5+ inches long.  I felt my breath catch.  This... this is not what I expected to see.  Even though I knew my daughter was having a large spot removed off the back of her head, I had somehow blocked out the reality of how that would look, and replaced it with an unrealistic image of beauty.

There were a few moments in that recovery room yesterday that I regretted all of it - that I wished I could get that spot back.  That I longed for my baby to be perfect, to be whole, to look less like Frankenstein and more like the Gerber baby.

I know the spot had to go, and I hope and pray that the scar that remains will heal and fade with time - that it will eventually be covered by gorgeous locks of hair! 

We are told that because of the size of the incision she will likely need to have a "revision" done to the scar in the next 6 months to a year.  The skin needed to be stretched just a little too far, and the middle of the scar will eventually pull apart a little too much.  The surgeon will need to cut the old scar out, and create a new smaller scar.

I wanted to be able to move on after yesterday - to put this all behind me.  I was unable to do that fully.  Sure, the back of my daughter's head looks a bit like Frankenstein, but today it has grown on me a little. 

Despite it all I still know that "there are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind." - C.S. Lewis.  Why?  Because I am a child of God, Lily is a child of God, and as he's proven over and over again, he knows what he's doing, even if I don't.

Turner Syndrome Awareness Fact:  Girls and women with Turner syndrome are at higher risk for developing celiac disease. 

According the Turner Syndrome Society:  "When people with celiac disease eat foods containing gluten, their immune system responds by attacking and damaging the villi. Villi, the fingerlike protrusions found on the small intestine, are needed for the body to absorb important nutrients."  Source

Last Saturday we tried something different with Lily.  We fed her some rice cereal.  We are really hoping this will provide just enough extra calories to bulk her up a little - help her gain a little weight.

I, of course, had high hopes going into feeding number one - she would eat right away and love it. After 4 very small spoonfuls, which apparently she was hiding in her cheeks, a big blob of rice cereal came out of her mouth, sort of like lava flowing out of a volcano. She immediately gave me a nasty look, and started fussing. Feeding #1 of cereal was over. 
Lily 1, Cereal 0

On Sunday, I knew we had to try again.  So late morning, I made up a few teaspoons of cereal.  We did have better luck.  She actually swallowed a few bites before she got mad and started pushing me away.  A few minutes after I took off her bib, I noticed cereal all over the front of her onesie.  Apparently she was still sneakily saving it up to spit out later.

Lily 2, Cereal 0

On Monday we informed Lily's daycare that she would like to try rice cereal there.  We did not inform them, however, that she seemed to be storing what was fed to her in her cheek to come out later, at random intervals.  Evil, or conveniently forgetful?  I'm not really sure.  I just wanted to see how they would fare.

When I picked her up her daily sheet read:  2 Tbsp of cereal - ate "some".  Of course the definition of "some" is pretty squishy, but I was at least happy to hear that she was interested.

Lily 2.5 Cereal .5

Tuesday the sheet read:  2 Tbsp of cereal - ate half.
Lily 3, Cereal 1

Wednesday it read:  2 Tbsp of cereal - ALL - Note (and I paraphrase here):  "Lily did not like how long it was taking me to feed her the cereal so she starting licking what had spilled off her bib."

Woo hoo - SCORE! 

That's my girl!  It is no secret this mama likes to eat - hence the 115 pound previous weight loss.  So, I was very proud!

Lily has made some awesome progress this week with eating, and I couldn't be happier.  I have, at the same time, noticed she hasn't been sleeping as well the last few nights, and yesterday I changed 4 poopy diapers between 5 pm and 10 pm!  She also has horrible diaper rash. 

And I went there...I immediately went to thinking that she may already be experiencing a gluten reaction (and yes most baby "rice" cereals actually do contain wheat).  Never mind that it could be something "normal" for a 5 month old.  Maybe her stomach is simply adjusting to a new food, or maybe she's started teething, and is experiencing the many poops and diaper rash of teething, just like her brother did. 
Its so hard to know.  Its hard to know if what my sweet girl is experiencing is a normal baby development thing, or if its the sign of something more serious.  And I know that for the future, my mind will probably always go "there"; always go to the worst case scenario.  After my pregnancy and Lily's diagnosis, it seems to be how I've been reprogrammed.
I've already thought about the "what ifs" of celiac disease.  She won't be able to eat cake at a birthday party, and snacks at daycare will be impossible.  She won't be able to have pizza with her friends, without at least planning ahead.  It makes me worried, but even more so, it makes me sad.  How much should I as a mother worry, and how much should I just chalk up to normal development?  And how can I possibly know?

I don't know.  I don't think anyone does with any child they raise.  And well, raising a child with some special needs, makes knowing even cloudier.  While, I don't know what the future will be in this regard for Lily, I do know that one of my dearest friends has Celiac Disease.  I know it hasn't been an easy journey for her, but I fed her dinner a couple of weeks ago at my house, and I do know that she had steak, a baked potato, and salad... just like all of us did.  She is coping... and if we have to we will too.  Its just another punch on our card of symptoms that could show up at any time. 
Every new symptom, every new sign, I over analyze.  Week after week I make myself just a little bit crazy waiting for the next shoe to drop. 

I desperately want for Lily to be one of the girls that only experiences mild Turner Syndrome symptoms, given some of what she has already been through in her short 5 months, but as soon as that thought crosses my head, I remember how incredibly lucky we are.  She doesn't have a heart defect and she doesn't have a kidney abnormality, like so many of her amazing Turner Syndrome sisters, and I know instantly that I would trade having to live gluten-free for a perfect heart and kidneys any day!

Yes... I'm still here and I'm still pregnant.  I was told to keep doing what I'm doing because obviously it is working.  No signs of swelling or high blood pressure, and all biophysical profiles have been 100%!  Now I just pray that the amnio comes back positive on Thursday for lung development, so this little girl can be born on Friday.

As I sit here this afternoon, I ponder, what should I be doing with my last week of pregnancy?  Well... this morning it was pushing a much too heavy cart of groceries around SuperTarget, and then getting a pedicure.  Gotta have cute feet if nothing else on me is cute, right?  My husband thinks its a waste, I consider it a small investment in my mental health.

Then there is the pantry cupboard to organize of course... I mean, who in their right mind goes into their last few days of pregnancy without organizing their pantry cupboard, right? 

Of course there's laundry, and suddenly I find myself freaking out that if I do laundry today and not again this week that my 4 year old will run out of underwear at the very moment of my C-section, causing him to have to "go commando" until I am released from the hospital.  Ah... it almost brings a smile to my face to worry about something so mundane.

Oh yeah, and why wouldn't I take on a couple of really small projects at work this past week... I mean, most people that are mere days away from having a baby do that, right?

Of course I realize that I am definitely trying to keep my mind... if not my body, busy.  As busy as possible.  So I don't have to think for one minute about what is about to happen... I don't have to think about the IV and the spinal, the fact that another human being (be as great as she is) is mere days away from cutting me open, taking out the human life I've been growing since January, and sewing me back up! 

As I read the other day "I am fearful, but I long to be fearless." source
I hope this week I can get myself a little closer to some peace in spite of the fear.

Right now, I am as pregnant as I've ever been.  I'm exactly 35 weeks today!  "L" was born at 34 weeks and 6 days.  I've passed that point of my last pregnancy, I'm still pregnant, and I'm not sick ... yet!  I am filled with gratitude to be at this point.  Back on May 12th at our 19 week ultrasound, I would have never guessed that I would be sitting here still pregnant on the very last day of August.

Tomorrow we will have our final growth ultrasound.  I really hope baby girl has taken a leap forward in growth in the past 3 weeks, since overall she has been measuring small.  After tomorrow's appointment, I have exactly 2 doctor's appointments left!  I will be beyond happy to not trek there every week! 

My nasty cold is mostly gone, and my hospital bag is packed! 

Overall I am feeling beyond tired... and nervous, sometimes like a complete wreck nervous, talk myself off a ledge nervous.  During times when the baby is quiet, I will admit I often start to freak out.  The baby was a bit quieter than normal earlier this week, but then the last couple days has been moving like crazy again.  My hope is that she was just doing LOTS of growing.  I get a momentary respite from the worry.  The worry, and my increasingly pregnant self, has definitely affected my sleep.

I read this week in a devotional that:
“Courage is not the absence of fear, but the presence of faith.”
Source

Am I scared?  Heck yes!  But am I feeling courageous enough to make it through these last couple of weeks of this overall terrifying pregnancy?  Absolutely.  And that is certainly not my own doing.

22 weeks today


Friday’s “regular” OB appointment was “perfect”. My tummy is measuring at 21 weeks, my weight was up a couple of pounds, my blood pressure was 126/68 and baby girl’s heartbeat was 156 bpm. Perfect huh? Yeah, except what about all of the parts that are making this pregnancy a complete nightmare? Funny how something can be so right and so wrong all at the same time. It just makes me so angry.

I don’t have much else on my mind this week except our ultrasound tomorrow. It will be been exactly 3 weeks since I sat in the same office and was told about the complications with our baby. Time is now marked by the time before and the time after that happening. Time has been marked by how long until this next ultrasound, and now it’s the day before.

There is some sort of bliss in ignoring what happened on that day. But yet, I can never really ignore it fully. Tomorrow we are faced with reality again. And while I really want to know what is going on inside of me, a huge part of me doesn’t care to face that. Doesn’t care to hear the dire statistics again. Doesn’t care to be told that my baby is dying inside of me.

I have no clue what I’m doing.
I’m nervous.
I’m terrified.

I want to be told tomorrow that it was all some sort of huge mistake. That our baby is perfect and thriving, but I know that isn’t going to happen.  My happy ending has changed.

I envision a positive scenario that includes things like “she’s the same”, or even “the fluid has reduced a little”, or “we still can’t find a heart defect.” Those are my positive scenarios. But I know there’s a chance we’ll hear that she’s doing worse than 3 weeks ago.

I believe in healing.
I believe in miracles.
I believe that God is bigger than the 2-7% chance this baby has to live.
And yet… I know that my plans are not His plans.

I pray that whatever the news is tomorrow that I am strong enough to take it.

I feel the need to clear something up. It is something that is just laying heavy on my own heart. I am not being defensive; this is just something I feel needs to be put out there.

This baby is 100% wanted and loved, regardless of any disabilities, differences, or difficulties that may come along with that. I desperately want to be given the opportunity to be a mom to this baby, to love her, to raise her, to encourage her, despite any difficulties or challenges that may come along with that. I am 100% appreciative of all the wonderful, personal stories of your own children or people you know that may have had a similar diagnosis/situation. Please don’t stop sending them, it is encouraging to me, and I reread many of the messages I have received over the past week daily. 

But… that is NOT my struggle.

I struggle daily with the fact that the chances of this baby being given an opportunity to even live are slim at best. Do you know what its like to be carrying a baby around in your body 24 hours a day as a part of yourself that has been given a death sentence? It’s horrible.  It's exhausting.  It's dark and depressing! It NEVER leaves your mind. NEVER. Brutally honest - It is by far the worst place I've ever been in my 34 years.  I am constantly monitoring movements, and when I don’t feel the baby for an hour, I start freaking out. It’s really a horrifying place to be. Constant fear, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  It makes for one exhausted, drained, and crabby person.  Some days I wonder how I can continue like this.  It makes every day a constant struggle - A struggle for hope, a struggle for just finding a few moments of peace. 

Yet, somehow in a haze, I have made it through the last 12 days.  Some days I really don't know how, but I am happy I have made it 12 days, and I know I have 9 more days left until the next ultrasound, where my expectations will again be reset.  I am both terrified and longing for that day.

I love this little girl… no matter what.

I wish my love and pain could fix her, because I have so much of both.  I wish I could fast forward to a further point in my pregnancy where it would be safe for her to be delivered, so doctors could help her better.  Right now I can't fix anything, but I do know that I am not one bit fearful of a future of raising her, I am fearful of a future without her at all.

That is my reality… and so I sit and wait for the unknown.  Knowing there are so many thoughts and prayers.  Feeling all of your love, and at the same time feeling VERY VERY alone.

Today I want to reflect on fear.  Why?  Because it is the emotion that has been consuming me lately.  And, for some reason no matter what your struggle (weight, depression, dependency issues, unemployment, etc. etc.) I think there comes a time where we all deal with fear.  This may come as a surprise to you, but I have been consumed with fear over the past week or so.  I've had constant thoughts of something bad going wrong with this pregnancy.  My history doesn't help me to conquer this fear very much since I was a statistic last time.  Yesterday, as I sat and thought about the intense fear and the resulting anxiety I was feeling I knew I could not live in this reality for the next 23 or so weeks (the Lord willing).

So I asked myself... what is the worst thing that can happen?
- I could die.
- My baby could die.
- We could both die.
- I could have major complications again
- I could have a preemie
- I could have a baby spend days, weeks, and even months in the NICU
- There could be something wrong with my baby (i.e. a birth defect)
- The baby might have growth issues

Facing that those are my fears was shocking, but incredibly freeing.  Seeing them down in print, and acknowledging they are real was important. 

So next, I asked myself, what can I do to try and calm some of these fears? 
Well... maybe I should take a lesson from my 3 year old son.  See, we have this Jesus action figure in our house (don't even ask...) and right now "L" is too scared to go down the hall to his bedroom and turn the light on in the dark by himself, so in his very own words "I'll bring God with me so I'm not scared." and down he marches down the hall as brave as can be with the Jesus figurine in his hand.  Little kids are so obviously smart sometimes.

Here is my comfort:
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. (Psalm 23:4)

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. (Deuteronomy 31:6)

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. (John 14:27)

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10)

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.  When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the LORD, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.” (Isaiah 43:1-3)

The LORD is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear?

The LORD is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?
Psalm 27:1

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understand, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7


My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. 2 Corinthians 12:9


I'm not nervous... I'm terrified... I'm scared to death, but I trust that the same God who loved me enough to send his only son to die for me on the cross so many thousands of years ago, the God of peace, will calm my heart and my mind.

Conquer your fear this Good Friday.

Over the last couple weeks I have had unexplainable anxiety that has at really random times been washing over me in waves.   I'll be doing something simple like cooking dinner or driving to work, and I'll start having these thoughts in my head - thoughts of self-doubt, thoughts of failure, and it will make me feel all clammy and just really terrible.

Tonight, I finally was able to pinpoint what it is.  FEAR!

Yep good old fear.  Now you might wonder, what could I be afraid of?  The boogie man, sure, he's scary, but he doesn't have anything on the fear of failure.  I am scared to fail.

I am scared that I won't be able to lose any more weight.  I am specifically scared that I won't be able to lose weight on the new PointsPlus plan.  And I will admit that I am downright terrified that I will gain all my weight back.  In fact, as I write that I can feel a lump in my throat and a tightness in my chest.  Fear.

I haven't really had a week since the new plan started where I've lost weight.  Now that has everything to do with my deliberate decision to "only maintain" during the holidays and over the weekend I went to Portland, and really nothing in the world to do with the new plan, but it has only contributed to my fear.  I am doubting myself, doubting my willpower, which has at most times along this journey been so iron clad. 

As I doubted myself tonight I found my fingers in cake... the cake that is on my counter because my family wanted to use this snowman mold pan and make it on Sunday.  Store bought boxed cake, with store-bought canned frosting.  It doesn't really even taste good.  And as I broke off a piece and licked the frosting off my finger, I said to myself, "what the hell are you doing?  This is going to help your fear one bit.  Its only going to make things worse when you don't lose weight at weigh in tomorrow.  Actions like tracking your food, and doing your workouts will be able to make you feel in control again.  So do that, don't eat this cake while you think your 3 year old is transfixed on Arthur on PBS and not watching.  Would you really want me to see this?  I don't think so." 

Yes, my conversations with myself are long, and sort of pep talk-like,  I think if I can lose weight (and I'm not sure if that is happening this week) I will be over the temporary fear of whether the PointsPlus program will work for me, but that doesn't resolve everything.  It only leaves the permanent fear of "will I gain this weight back".  That thought chills me to the bone.  I can't say whether it will go away as time brings me further and further away from living a life of being defined by being fat, or if it is something that will always remain.  And again, I know the same tools that got me here, will keep me here.  I know what this is about.  I know how to do this.  But there is that stupid nagging voice in the back of my head that says "you can't keep this up, you'll never keep the weight off, you aren't as good as you think this."

So here's where I ask for your help.  Whether you're my sister, my best friend, my CWWL (Crazy Weight Watchers Leader for my newbies), or I barely know you I want you to hunt me down and shake me if I ever start to gain this weight back.  I'm serious.  I need you.  Knowing you will do that makes me less scared.  Deal?

For anyone out there that's lost a lot of weight... did you have fear like this?  Did it go away?  What did you do about it?