My entire life, I have dreamed of being a mom. Teaching got me close to that. Being able to mold tiny humans and help them see their true potential. To teach them to believe in themselves and reach for the stars. When their little arms would wrap around my waist and they would say "I love you Miss Gough" it was one of the best feelings. When I got married, this dream became a whole lot closer to reality. People would ask if I was baby hungry, I don't know if there has been a time I haven't been baby hungry. I started babysitting at the ripe young age of 11 and BAM. . . the waiting game started to one day have a family of my own.
When TJ and I got married, we talked about when we would start a family. We agreed to wait about a year and we both felt good about that. Then the days started to pass. Since I was now retired from teaching, my days are spent taking care of the house, grocery shopping, laundry, and experimenting with recipes. It was all grand, but I felt something was missing. I held out until April and then approached the topic of maybe starting a family sooner than a year. We weren't sure how Cystic Fibrosis would impact this, but decided to have faith. My saint of a husband took some time to ponder this idea and to my ecstatic surprise, he agreed. Now anyone who knows me knows I have the patience of a bomb. I wanted it to happen immediately. I met with my doctors who supported us completely and talked about how pregnancy would impact my medications. Thankfully only one would have to be changed. The nature of CF is that as life goes on, your lung function tends to decline, so, with my lung function being in the 90%ish- this was a good time to start a family.
Me being me, I started to research pregnancy and CF. The results I found did not calm my anxious mind. CF does present some challenges. Because there is mucus basically in every part of my body, becoming pregnant can sometimes take 6 months to 1 year and then times leading to medical intervention. I felt so discouraged. I felt like my life's goal was to be a great mom to a gaggle of children, but now I wasn't so sure. I started realizing that the women I knew with CF and a family usually never had more than 2 children. I took my troubles to TJ who has this incredible way of saying exactly what I need to hear. He said, "It'll happen when it's supposed to. If we have to adopt, we adopt. If we can only have 1, then we have 1. If we can have more, we'll approach it when we get there. We will do whatever is best for your health. And if we never have kids and it's just the two of us, I will still be the happiest guy on Earth." I know, I got so lucky finding him. Of course the days of discouragement still popped up. The what ifs and doubts were there, but I tried to push them aside.
Then came one of the best days of my life. June 9th, I was only one day late, but I was so hopeful. I waited until TJ went to work to take the test because if I was negative I wanted to deal with my disappointment all alone. To my elation, there were 2 little pink lines. I was so extremely happy, but then realized I couldn't tell anyone until TJ got home, 9 hours later!! The universe thought it would be funny to send my father-in-law and my mom over to my house during different times of the day and it took all my self control to keep the news to myself. Telling TJ is a memory I'll always remember. He was so excited!
So here we are, 25 weeks later. I am considered high-risk because since it's such a challenge to gain weight, the baby doesn't always gain the weight they're supposed to. I am also at a higher risk for gestational diabetes since with CF I am already at risk for diabetes. So far baby girl is on track with weight and development. I'll be having ultrasounds to check for growth every few weeks. Since I am so small framed, I started showing quite quickly and when baby girl kicks, she moves my entire stomach. She does not like being poked, but loves skittles. Through the challenges that have come with pregnancy and CF, this little one has helped take my mind off the aches and pains. The strength to endure increases when it's no longer just you you're supporting. I am grateful everyday for the miracle she is and hope to be the type of mom I've dreamed of being.
Thursday, November 10, 2016
Friday, April 22, 2016
The Truth About Quicksand
When we were little, quicksand was made out to be a huge obstacle that we would encounter at one point or another in our lives. Even cartoons depicted the scene of the main character struggling against the quicksand sinking lower and lower all while they were frantically scrambling to grab any branch or vine they could reach. We would play games about quicksand as we would giggle and pretend we were slowing sinking only to have a friend grab our arm and haul us to safety.
As life continues on, I've discovered that I didn't need to worry about encountering quicksand on a daily basis, in fact between Nevada and Utah, I found that as long as I stayed on the designated paths while hiking, I wouldn't really have to worry about quicksand at all.
Except then I discovered the metaphorical quicksand of life. Those times in life when situations happen and you fight with everything you've got to get out, yet find yourself sinking lower and lower with no branch or vine in sight. All of us have times when we don't feel there is a way out, feel that we're sinking.
A chronic illness can sometimes feel like quicksand. You'll pull yourself out a little bit and feel healthy, only to be sucked back in even further. Medications, therapies, and other resources are small vines that can lift you out, but there are times where you continue to struggle and the light at the end of the tunnel becomes a little less bright. Now don't get me wrong, I am not here to have a pity party or complain. I have had to learn a lot of life lessons in the past year. I've learned that endurance is a lot harder than it seems, prayers for healing don't always get answered, and faith grows where your strength lacks.
But, the real truth about quicksand is that when you stop fighting, stop struggling, you stop sinking. Quicksand only sucks you in as you struggle. The most quicksand can pull you in is about to your waist if you are still.
Sadly, unlike quicksand, a chronic illness can never be fully escaped. But, like quicksand, I can lessen the amount of fighting to stay afloat. I have found that the times when I'm praying the hardest, I haven't been healed, but have had a greater ability to get through the tough times. When my strength is gone, my faith grows. I have discovered that the ability to endure doesn't come years, months, or weeks at a time, but in the days, hours and minutes of each day.
So, the reason for this post. . . times are tough, life is hard, but with amazing people by your side (like my incredible husband and family) you can endure the coming minutes, hours, and days. Looking too far into the future can seem daunting, but enjoying the moments now make the days sweeter.
I've had to establish a new motto in life. When the going gets tough, the tough sometimes need to sit down and breathe.
As life continues on, I've discovered that I didn't need to worry about encountering quicksand on a daily basis, in fact between Nevada and Utah, I found that as long as I stayed on the designated paths while hiking, I wouldn't really have to worry about quicksand at all.
Except then I discovered the metaphorical quicksand of life. Those times in life when situations happen and you fight with everything you've got to get out, yet find yourself sinking lower and lower with no branch or vine in sight. All of us have times when we don't feel there is a way out, feel that we're sinking.
A chronic illness can sometimes feel like quicksand. You'll pull yourself out a little bit and feel healthy, only to be sucked back in even further. Medications, therapies, and other resources are small vines that can lift you out, but there are times where you continue to struggle and the light at the end of the tunnel becomes a little less bright. Now don't get me wrong, I am not here to have a pity party or complain. I have had to learn a lot of life lessons in the past year. I've learned that endurance is a lot harder than it seems, prayers for healing don't always get answered, and faith grows where your strength lacks.
But, the real truth about quicksand is that when you stop fighting, stop struggling, you stop sinking. Quicksand only sucks you in as you struggle. The most quicksand can pull you in is about to your waist if you are still.
Sadly, unlike quicksand, a chronic illness can never be fully escaped. But, like quicksand, I can lessen the amount of fighting to stay afloat. I have found that the times when I'm praying the hardest, I haven't been healed, but have had a greater ability to get through the tough times. When my strength is gone, my faith grows. I have discovered that the ability to endure doesn't come years, months, or weeks at a time, but in the days, hours and minutes of each day.
So, the reason for this post. . . times are tough, life is hard, but with amazing people by your side (like my incredible husband and family) you can endure the coming minutes, hours, and days. Looking too far into the future can seem daunting, but enjoying the moments now make the days sweeter.
I've had to establish a new motto in life. When the going gets tough, the tough sometimes need to sit down and breathe.
Tuesday, February 2, 2016
The War on Each Other
When did we become a society of conformity? When did it become a bad thing to differ in opinion or to decide to do things differently? When did we decide to no longer have respect for humans?
Lately, the world has turned into a place that will shame you for being different. We claim that everyone has the right to their own voice, but only if that voice aligns with your own. We shout for freedom of speech, but shun anyone who speaks too loudly about topics you don't agree with. We no longer turn a blind eye, but yell and curse and scream until we have proved we are right. And most often, our screaming is done by the few clicks of a keyboard. We feel we can hide behind a bright screen, yet say we are standing for our beliefs. We condemn those who ripple the pond in ways we don't want it to.
My mother taught me something when I was very little. She said, "Taylor, if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." My mother taught all her daughters to be proud, independent, strong women who knew what we wanted out of life and weren't afraid to fight for it, yet never once did she say scream and yell at others to get there. She never told us to hate others who were different or thought differently from us. We weren't instructed to scream the loudest to prove we are "right".
Right is a strange word. It has so many means. Being RIGHT is all about perception. It is about your point of view and how your brain processes information. We are not clones of one another, neither are our brains.
We scream that war needs to end, the fighting needs to stop. Yet when will we stop condemning our neighbors for thinking differently than we do? When we will be done saying how ignorant everyone is when all they do is process information differently.
Every social media post does not require a response. You don't agree with them? I have a brilliant new invention for you. It's called..... wait for it.... scroll down. Or better yet, exit out and go live.
Take it from someone who knows how quickly the rug can get pulled out from under you. Each day is a gift. A chance to help our fellow men. The opportunity to make someones day a little brighter. A chance to call a cease fire to the war we've created that is only against each other. A war where no one is "right" no one is going to come out conqueror. A war that only hurts, never heals. Who are we trying to free when we are battling those around us? Ourselves?
I'll let you in on a little secret. That war was won a long time ago.
Lately, the world has turned into a place that will shame you for being different. We claim that everyone has the right to their own voice, but only if that voice aligns with your own. We shout for freedom of speech, but shun anyone who speaks too loudly about topics you don't agree with. We no longer turn a blind eye, but yell and curse and scream until we have proved we are right. And most often, our screaming is done by the few clicks of a keyboard. We feel we can hide behind a bright screen, yet say we are standing for our beliefs. We condemn those who ripple the pond in ways we don't want it to.
My mother taught me something when I was very little. She said, "Taylor, if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." My mother taught all her daughters to be proud, independent, strong women who knew what we wanted out of life and weren't afraid to fight for it, yet never once did she say scream and yell at others to get there. She never told us to hate others who were different or thought differently from us. We weren't instructed to scream the loudest to prove we are "right".
Right is a strange word. It has so many means. Being RIGHT is all about perception. It is about your point of view and how your brain processes information. We are not clones of one another, neither are our brains.
We scream that war needs to end, the fighting needs to stop. Yet when will we stop condemning our neighbors for thinking differently than we do? When we will be done saying how ignorant everyone is when all they do is process information differently.
Every social media post does not require a response. You don't agree with them? I have a brilliant new invention for you. It's called..... wait for it.... scroll down. Or better yet, exit out and go live.
Take it from someone who knows how quickly the rug can get pulled out from under you. Each day is a gift. A chance to help our fellow men. The opportunity to make someones day a little brighter. A chance to call a cease fire to the war we've created that is only against each other. A war where no one is "right" no one is going to come out conqueror. A war that only hurts, never heals. Who are we trying to free when we are battling those around us? Ourselves?
I'll let you in on a little secret. That war was won a long time ago.
Thursday, January 14, 2016
Tales of a Retired Teacher
2 1/2 years. That is how long my teaching career lasted. Not long, but long enough. How did I come to this decision you might ask? Well for that explanation, we must take a small glimpse into the past. In June I was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis (CF). This disease is genetic so I've had it my whole life, I just didn't know what it was. Doctors would say that I would grow out of it, or that is was asthma. Ha, kinda wish I could give those doctors a visit to see the look on their faces, but I digress. CF is exacerbated by stress and germs. Working with 6/7 year old is like dipping myself in a vat of germs daily. Great visual I know. I took as many precautions as I could. We used hand sanitizer after every recess, we wiped off their desks with clorox wipes at the end of every day, we made sure to use tissues and cough into our elbows. Sadly, all my steps to avoid getting sick did not pay off. On October 22 last year, I woke up with lung pain. Very similar to chest pain, but when you have CF, you can tell the difference. I was so frustrated. It felt like the time I had pneumonia. I called my doctor and they asked me to go home from work until they could get me in. So, to my house I went to sit and wait. They asked me to come in about 9:30. Up to the University of Utah I went. After a few x-rays and an exam, they came to the conclusion I had a lung infection. The doctor I saw was not my usual doctor so we weren't that great of friends, and now not sure we'll ever be. I have a legitimate reason I assure you. After sending down blood work to be analyzed, my not-best-friend came into the exam room and said, "Well, call your school. We're admitting you."
I do have to admit I didn't think he was serious and was extremely sad when I realized he was. I was not allowed to go home at all, or leave the hospital under any circumstances. Thank goodness my angel of a mother was on her way. She kindly picked up my toothbrush and extra clothes. Here is the best (worst) part. They were admitting me for 10-14 days. 10-14 DAYS! My teacher brain was freaking out. How in the world could I create sub plans for that long? How could I leave my kids for that long? I was frazzled and discombobulated. The first few days weren't horrible, but in no way were they fun. Nurses came and went at all hours of the day and night, my veins were poked like a pin cushion. The doctor came in one day, not the one who admitted me, and talked to me about how long my imprisonment would be. Since I had just been diagnosed he wanted to keep me the whole 2 weeks, part of my soul died when he said that. As all good doctors do, he gave me a glimmer of hope along with the depressing news. He told me if I could get my breathing tests up past a certain percentage he would think about sending me home a little earlier. I latched onto that news like a barnacle on a ship. I did everything the doctors and nurses said I needed to. I did my respiratory therapy, I worked out everyday, I took at my meds. Along came judgement day, one week since I was admitted. Down I went to the area of my breathing tests. I breathed my very best. When it was completed, these tests are not the easiest, I was fidgeting in my chair awaiting my results. As I got the news, I totally blew it! I did better than the doctor wanted me to. I was so excited to take my results upstairs to the doctor. Even he was shocked. So, they let me out. I escaped the day before Halloween. On Monday, back to school I went. In the hospital I was on such heavy antibiotics that my already diminished immune system was wiped out. I got sick my first day back with a cold. It took me a month and 2 weeks to get over it. With everything that happened, the only thing I knew was that I wanted to live. So, after talking to TJ and doing a lot of praying and pondering, here we are. Me, retired at 23. Being away from the classroom has been tough, but also good for the lungs, head, and soul. I'll always be a teacher at heart. Next stop... Married life.
I do have to admit I didn't think he was serious and was extremely sad when I realized he was. I was not allowed to go home at all, or leave the hospital under any circumstances. Thank goodness my angel of a mother was on her way. She kindly picked up my toothbrush and extra clothes. Here is the best (worst) part. They were admitting me for 10-14 days. 10-14 DAYS! My teacher brain was freaking out. How in the world could I create sub plans for that long? How could I leave my kids for that long? I was frazzled and discombobulated. The first few days weren't horrible, but in no way were they fun. Nurses came and went at all hours of the day and night, my veins were poked like a pin cushion. The doctor came in one day, not the one who admitted me, and talked to me about how long my imprisonment would be. Since I had just been diagnosed he wanted to keep me the whole 2 weeks, part of my soul died when he said that. As all good doctors do, he gave me a glimmer of hope along with the depressing news. He told me if I could get my breathing tests up past a certain percentage he would think about sending me home a little earlier. I latched onto that news like a barnacle on a ship. I did everything the doctors and nurses said I needed to. I did my respiratory therapy, I worked out everyday, I took at my meds. Along came judgement day, one week since I was admitted. Down I went to the area of my breathing tests. I breathed my very best. When it was completed, these tests are not the easiest, I was fidgeting in my chair awaiting my results. As I got the news, I totally blew it! I did better than the doctor wanted me to. I was so excited to take my results upstairs to the doctor. Even he was shocked. So, they let me out. I escaped the day before Halloween. On Monday, back to school I went. In the hospital I was on such heavy antibiotics that my already diminished immune system was wiped out. I got sick my first day back with a cold. It took me a month and 2 weeks to get over it. With everything that happened, the only thing I knew was that I wanted to live. So, after talking to TJ and doing a lot of praying and pondering, here we are. Me, retired at 23. Being away from the classroom has been tough, but also good for the lungs, head, and soul. I'll always be a teacher at heart. Next stop... Married life.
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