Worst Day of My Life

Tomorrow is the two year anniversary of the worst day of my entire life. It was worse than the day I found out my father had passed away. It was worse than packing up and leaving my oldest son's father. It was just too much just plain awful to be wrapped up into one day.

For starters, I was only six days post-partum. I had a six-day-old baby who was totally and completely dependant on me. A baby that I was head over heels in love with, but still had no clue how to take care of. I would look at him and think how much I love him . . . and also think how in the heck did I become a mom? What was God thinking? Why did he give ME a kid?

Around 9:00 on the morning of October 16, 2006, my beloved Granny passed away. She had been on this earth 99 years. 99 years. We knew the end was coming. She had been sick all summer but was holding on to see the births of her two newest great-great grandchildren (my cousin's daughter in August; my Jaybird in October). She had a stroke the night after Jaybird was born and never recovered. We knew she was in a better place. In the minutes before she died, she told my aunt, "I can see Bee [her husband]" and then "Mama! I see my Mama!" We knew she was once again with people she loved, people she hadn't seen for many years. Her suffering was over. For that, we were glad. But it was so terribly hard to lose the heart and soul and very foundation of our family. It shook our worlds. Here it's been two years and I still find myself thinking, "I need to send that picture to Granny" or "Maybe I should call Granny and tell her what Jaybird did today."

Losing Granny was bad enough, but the day only got worse from there. Worse than I ever would have - or could have - imagined. My c-section incision was infected. I managed to be squeezed in for an appointment at my doctor's office only to be told he wasn't sure what was attacking my body. He sent me to the hospital for "24 hours of antibiotics." Shortly after we got to the hospital, my grandmother arrived and took my Jaybird. He couldn't stay with me.

I remember calling a friend and just sobbing. "They won't let me keep my baby. My grandma came and got Jaidan. I want my Jaidan."

It was a couple hours after that that my infection finally had a diagnosis: necrotizing fasciitis. It was something we'd never even heard of until that very moment and then had to stand there with a doctor telling me, "This is very serious. We have to operate and we have to operate now." Just HOW serious is it? "Surgery NOW or die."

There is nothing like being faced with a near death experience at the age of 26 to totally and completely put things into perspective for you. There are different things in my life that I would request a "do over" for in a heartbeat. And, believe me, there is no way I would want to go through the physical pain involved with NF ever, ever, ever again. There is no way I would want to go through the emotional pain involved with knowing you came very close to losing your life nor would I want to go through the raw pain of being separated from my tiny baby for 11 days. BUT, that experience changed me and in so many ways it made me who I am today.

Two years ago, I would have thought October 16th would have been a day to be met with anger and frustration. But now I can look back and see how totally and completely blessed I am. I was told I wouldn't have any more children . . . my KyKy man is living proof that 'they' don't always know what they're talking about. I was told I might not walk again . . . my left leg may not be as strong as my right leg, but dammit it gets my boys and I to the park every morning. I'm here and I'm alive and I'm breathing and I can soak up every single second of the lives of these precious, precious boys . . . I am blessed. Blessed beyond measure or comprehension.

That doesn't meet the day isn't met without emotion. October 16th will always be an extremely emotional day for me. It will be tough for me this year. Tough to keep from participating in one of my favorite pasttimes: emotional eating. I know that my mindset tomorrow will be, "I deserve this because of everything I overcame." "I deserve this because think of where I was two years ago."

But you know what I DO deserve? I deserve to take care of this body I've been given . . . even if it includes a hip bone to hip bone scar, lumpy "front butt" belly, and a leg that aches when it rains. I deserve to be able to get down on the floor and REALLY play with my boys. I deserve to be able to check myself out in the mirror and say, "Lookin' good, Mama." THAT is what I deserve and every single one of those things is so much better and more precious than a twinkie or a chocolate chip cookie.

Hubs and I have a big day planned tomorrow, partly to keep my mind off of the total emotional-ness of the day. If the weather cooperates, we'll be taking the kids to state fair. Emotional eating I have no plans to do, but I *do* plan on splitting some chicken fried bacon with the crew (COME ON - chicken fried bacon?? That's like all the best artery clogging goodness all rolled into one food. I must try it). Therefore no daily menu for tomorrow. We be wingin' it.

I'm also considering weighing in in the morning rather than Friday morning. I don't want the said bird-fried pork to make the scales jump. I'm just hoping to maintain this week (though I have a feeling I'm going to see a slight increase - say it ain't sooooo).

** If you'd like to read more about my experience with NF, here's a link to my story: http://nnff.org/survivors/brandi_houser/brandi_houser.htm