Music From My Heart

This past week I have been obsessed...and I mean OBSESSED with the Game of Thrones Soundtrack.  I've always loved the music from the show, but I cannot get enough this week.  It has inspired me to write about how music has always played an integral part of my life.  I remember as a kid driving in the car with my dad, he would blast the radio for 5 seconds then lower it and quiz my sister and I on which band  sang that particular song.   It was always so much fun trying to yell out the band or the name of the song before my sister could.  Music evokes all types of emotions.  I can easily recall moments in my life and what songs I would be listening to and how they made me feel.

_________________________________________________________________________________

My first heart break.  Carly Simon-- You're so Vain.  Seriously, that son of a bitch thought he would break my heart, and I would fall apart.  Well I did.  Then I started listening to Carly Simon, and realized that this person was WAY too into their own emotions they couldn't handle me on.  Therefore, didn't deserve me.  I brushed myself off and mended my broken heart.

Graduating High School.  If anybody else Graduated in 2001 or a couple year prior or after, then you definitely know the Vitamin C - Graduation song.  I would put on my radio/cd/tape player when I was going to bed on low and listen to a local station.  EVERY night in May and June that damn Vitamin C song would come on.  And EVERY night I would cry.  Cry about leaving home.  Missing my family and friends.  Cry because I wasn't sure what the future held for me.

The Best Summer.  It was summer of 2003 and oddly enough I had my heart broken for the second time.  Different guy.  I was less mature this breakup and decided to drink my face off the entire summer to numb my pain.  However,  I HAD THE BEST TIME doing it.  Every Friday, my sister and I would call each other if we heard R. Kelly's - Ignition on the radio and blast it over our phones.  Not even talk to each other.  Just blast the music.  We knew that weekend we both would be heading to Fire Island to party.    I seriously can't hear Ignition without thinking about what a crazy summer that was.

Running my first and ONLY full marathon.   When you run 26.2 miles, you have A LOT of time to yourself.  I would always plug in my ear buds when I was training.  I would listen to an array of music, but what I will always equate to my marathon time is Muse's - Knights of Cydonia.  Seriously, if you need a song to pump you up, that is the one.  I remember listening to it as ran up the rolling hills in the marathon route... wanting to stop soo badly, but the music carried me through.  Finishing that marathon was one of my proudest moments. 

Matt Proposing.  He literally made up his own lyrics to Foo Fighter's- Everlong  to propose to me.  He knew I loved Foo Fighters, and he knew I loved him...so it was a definite yes.  I remember being shaky, out of breath and feeling faint in that moment, and I was just sitting!  Ten years later, if Everlong plays on the radio while we are driving together, we look each other and hold each others hands.  He is definitely my Ever Long.

Grace.  Rocking that little bundle of joy to bed and singing "Baby Mine" has always been one of my favorite memories as a first time mom.  Just rocking back and forth in the dark room of hers, watching her eyes closed and sleep in my arms is definitely one of the most precious moments I've endured.  Even know when Grace is feel sleepy or wanting a little bit more "mom" attention she requests Baby Mine.  I'll sing it to her, and even though she is growing before my very eyes, whenever I sing that song to her, she's right back to being my bundle of joy in my arms.

Open Heart Surgery.  Discovering I heart a heart defect at 32 years old has to be one of the biggest shocks in my life.  Reflecting back, I don't know how I didn't go bonkers while I agonizingly waited for 6 months for my surgery.  I truly believe, music was one of my outlets.  I would BLAST David Guetta w/Sia -Titanium.  Those lyrics were my battle cry.  Three days after my surgery, when the doctor had to remove my chest tube ( seriously - the chest tube was the worst part of post surgery), I remember her asking me if I wanted to play any songs.  I automatically looked at Matt and he played "Titanium."  As she started to remove the chest tube and basically ripe it out from inside my chest, she told me I could scream....I just belted out "I am TITANIUM" and it was over.  With the chest tube out.  A day later I was discharged from the hospital.  In that moment,  I was a bad ass,  I was a warrior. 

And the last memory I will share was after Peyton was born.  I was an emotional wreck.  I mourned the family of three that Matt, Grace and I had created, but this little peanut came into my life and into my heart.  The song that takes me back to adjusting to loving a second child is Elvis Presley's - I Can't Help Falling In Love With You.  She loved to go on walks outside, and I remember she was just 6 weeks old and I would wrap her up in a blanket and I would carry her around the neighborhood singing that song to her.   I knew that as scared and anxious  as I felt about opening my heart again, it was happening.  I loved her and there was nothing I could do to stop it.  I had to let go my family of three and embrace my new life, as a family of four.

_________________________________________________________________________________

I could probably ramble on all day about what songs mean to me and list dozens more songs and the time warp I am thrown into.  I love all music can do -- it can heal, it can unite, it can scare, it can ease pain, it can love.  Enjoy your weekend, blast whatever song you'd like and let the music overtake you. Until next time.

 

Back in the Saddle

I busted my hump! I told Matt over and over again with a smile on my face.  I came barreling downstairs sweaty, hair crazy, sporting my bike shorts.  My daily spin has become my sanctuary.  We have a stationary bike up in our bedroom...and no, its not a Peloton.  Maybe this blog could get forwarded to them and they will send me one! (fingers crossed)  Anyway, my parents had an old stationary bike they never used, and about two years ago were looking too get rid of it, so we took it.  Matt had every intention of using it when Peyton was born, and I think he did use it a couple off times, but let's face it, that guy likes to lift weights.

For months the stationary bike just sat in our bedroom......stationary.

It wasn't until this past Fall. I decided to dust off the bike take off all the clothes that were draped on it and scoured my workout drawer for the pair of bike shorts I had purchased years ago.  

That first day was not a pretty sight.  Literally.  Bike shorts are NOT forgiving and neither are leg muscles after biking.  

I believe I biked for 25 minutes and was spent.  There was a time when I used to run 6 miles before a spin class.  And now, after 25 minutes.  How the mighty have fallen.    I try to practice patience and self-love, but as a former gym rat,  25 minutes seemed pathetic.  I reminded myself that if I wanted to build stamina, I would just have to keep at it.  And that's what I did.    Slowly, I went from 25 minutes a day, 2 days a week to 30 minutes a day, 2 days a week.  Six months later, I dedicate at least 50 minutes a day, 5 days a week.  I crave the saddle.  I find my energy level is much lower if I don't work out.  

People have asked me if I watch any spin classes on YouTube to motivate me.  I've tried.   To be honest, I use the time on the bike for me. To be connected to my body.  To feel my heart getting stronger.  To feel how fast my legs are pumping.  To listen to my thoughts.  To rock out to music of my choice.   To have creative ideas pop into my head.  To have time for myself.

I haven't felt this strong in my body and mind since the summer after my open heart surgery.  The bike is no longer stationary....and neither am I.

Sharing is Caring

I am ready to commit to writing again.  I've been yearning to blog for awhile, but have not sat down in front of the computer and just typed away.  I was either "too tired" or "too busy" but in reality I was too afraid to open up again.

Anyone that knows me, knows I am a pretty direct person.  I believe I come across as confident and energetic, but I am also very fearful.  I am my harshest critic, so the idea of putting myself out for the world (well not the world, but whoever is gracious enough to read this blog) was plaguing me.  As I am approaching the end of my 35th, which I guess is really my 36th year, or if you really want to get technical, 37th year (don't forget the time in utero), I find myself stuck.

Will I also feel this stuck feeling?  Is that just my personality? or has my fear stopped me from pursuing passions, thus the stuck feeling?

If I were  the 20-something years old girl day dreaming about my life, I would've thought that the 35 year old version of myself would have been more advanced in my career, would have traveled more, would've, could've, should've a lot of other things.  The reality is, I haven't traveled as much, I don't even consider myself having a "career" but rather a string of jobs put together to create a decent resume.  What I also realize  is that my reality also includes a very intriguing, tumultuous, challenging, loving, roller coaster of a ride.  I don't think my story is any more special than anyone else's.  I don't think I would win the Gold Medal in tragedy, nor do I want to.  However, if any of the self -reflecting that I have learned over the years has taught me is that sharing my story is important. 

I remember three years ago when I got home from my open heart surgery, I was out with my sister and met up with friends of friends of hers.  I recall one of the women I spoke with was going through a rough patch in her life.  As we spoke about her life and the challenges she was facing and how the week prior I was laying on an operating table undergoing open heart surgery, she looked at me "but your soo positive! Your energy is great.  you really have inspired me."  I thanked her and went on with my day.  It wasn't until a little while later I thought, I just inspired someone by telling her about my life.  How cool is that?

So here I am again.  Trying to break free from the stuck feeling and not allowing fear to stop me.  I am not special. I am not a hero. I am not perfect. I am not a failure.  I am here.....in the now, sharing my story.

One Flew Into The Cuckoo's Nest

Our backdoor has two side doors/windows that you can open to let the fresh air in while keeping critters out.  When we first moved into our house one of the screens had a rip on the bottom of it, my dad thought it would be a brilliant idea to teach Petie to go in and out of the ripped screened door as his own personal doggy door.  At first, I hated the idea; now its a second nature to open "the Petie door."  Although the rip on the screen has grown bigger over the past 8 years, I have yet to replace it, part laziness, part cheapness, part convenience for Petie.  Well after this morning, I'm calling a screen repair company.

Petie had just gone out to do his morning business and unbeknownst to me had come back into the house.  The side door/window was still open while I was playing with Peyton on the couch, talking to my parents on the phone while they embarked on the journey drive back to Texas after a month away in Florida.  Peyton was smiling, I was chatting and the next thing I knew was a small bird was flying around my kitchen.  A bird flew into my house.  Never in my life have I had a bird in my house.  Being the ever calming force that I am, I shrieked "a bird flew into my house! AHHHH!" and as the poor little bird frantically flew around my kitchen banging into windows and kitchen cabinets, I was ducking for cover like I was in some serious danger.  I hung up the phone with my parents, after I told them I felt like I was in Alfred Hitchcock's Birds, to my moms response "Allie, its one bird!"  

One bird indeed.  One bird that was invading my personal space and I wasn't going to take it anymore.  I ran to our laundry room that houses our 'fly swatter.'  By know the bird had concussed itself by banging into our back windows, window above kitchen sink and flying into the kitchen cabinets.  It was quietly sitting next to the stove, like it belonged on my kitchen counter tops.  I quickly shut all the doors that led to bedrooms and bathrooms.  I opened the backdoor and figured the door being wide open will allow the bird to easily fly out.  Well.... not quite.  After I shut all doors, I put Peyton in her activity center and as she clanged around with her toys, I took the fly swatter and got closer to the bird.  I started smacking the swatter on our refrigerator.  This spooked the bird and as he took off he flew right into our back window again, this time getting stuck in our curtains.  C'mon bird, just LEAVE! Then I made some more noise and the bird took flight again.  This time slamming itself into the wide open back door.  Nope, not flying out of it, but smashing its poor body into it and then continuing to fly into our TV room, where my adorable almost-5-month-old daughter was minding her business.  I know was screaming like a complete lunatic "get out bird, stay away from my baby!" 

The bird landed on the ground next to Petie's dog bed.  Surely, if Petie was in his bed, he would be get up and scare the bird.  Right, isn't that what dogs do?  But no movement.  Petie must be upstairs I thought.  What I envisioned next was the bird flying right into Peyton, so I quickly got over to Peyton, picked her up and ran behind a wall.   In one hand holding my baby, I flipped on the overhead lights and  started smacking the swatter onto the wall.  This time, the bird lifted off the ground, fluttered around for a second and flew out the door!  

holy shit, I felt like I defeated Muhammad Ali in a boxing match.  I was shuffling around - yelling "that's right bird! Get out!" Slamming the backdoor to ensure that Mr. Tweeter and his friends didn't visit again.  I went back to playing with Peyton and two seconds later I heard Petie get out of his bed.  You know, the bed that the bird landed on and then next too.  This dog slept through the entire fiasco.  My mighty, fierce watchdog didn't come to my rescue, but again, he is used to me yelling and jumping around like a lunatic in our cuckoos nest.....err, home!

Grace

The bellow is from the Journal I wrote to Grace before my Open Heart Surgery.  

*********************************************************************************

Let me start with your name.  When I first found out I was pregnant with you, I thought I was a having a boy for a split second.  But after some time, I knew in my heart, you were a little girl.  When it was confirmed in the 20 week ultrasound that my suspicions of you being a girl were true, there was only one name I wanted you to have --- Grace.

Grace was my grandmas name - Pops' mom- she died the day after my 9th birthday.  She was full of energy, love and life.  It's funny when I was growing up, Cici and Pop used to say I was like 'Grace' because of somethings I did or said was like my grandmother.  Now, looking back, its like you have always been a part of me - the part that I thought was my grandmother, might have been you as well.  So for starters, you were named after your Great Grandmother, who would've loved you soo much.

Secondly, Grace is a way of living.  To live with Grace, to me, means to live with dignity, pride, compassion, humanity and all things good.  Your dad and I named you Grace with the feeling that you would encompass all of these qualities.  I also felt that it would be through you, that I would learn to live with all of those qualities as well.

One of my favorite bands U2 has a song 'Grace'....The following lyrics from the song make me smile whenever I hear it.

Grace, she takes the blame

She covers the shame

Removes the stain

It could be her name

Grace, its the name for a girl

it's also a thought that changed the World.

And when she walks on the street 

You can hear the strings

Grace finds goodness in everything.

What once was hurt

What once was friction

What left a mark

no longer stings

because Grace makes beauty out of ugly things.

*********************************************************************************

Grace, you make my life beautiful.  Happy 5th Birthday - I know you will do wonderful things with you life, you already have!

Not A Day....

Tomorrow marks my two year anniversary of my Open Heart Surgery.  Two years!  Soo much has happened in that time.  I no longer work full time, Matt is at a different job, Grace will be heading into kindergarten in the fall, and lastly, we welcomed another beautiful girl into our family this October.  For most people, my surgery is in the past - it's over with, my scar is barely noticeable and I am healthy.  For me, my surgery is with me everyday and not a day goes by that I am not reminded of how my life has changed 2+ years ago.

• Not a day goes by that I don't look or touch at my scar.
• Not a day goes by that I don't think about the emotional toll I underwent from the minute I was diagnosed with my Congenital Heart Defect. 
• Not a day goes by that I don't think of all the wonderful and supportive texts, cards, gifts and messages I received from all my friends and family.
• Not a day goes by that I don't think about the Journal I had written for Grace with life lessons so she could read it later on in life, just in case I wasn't around.
• Not a day goes by that I don't think about those that have lost their lives to CHD, or are fighting everyday to make it to the next day.
• Not a day goes by that am I not grateful to all those highly trained and caring doctors and nurses that took care of me, and still take care of me.
• Not a day goes by that I don't smile because the memories of Matt, My dad and mom sharing some serious laughs in the hospital during my recovery. 
• Not a day goes by that I am not reminded of the euphoria high I felt after my surgery and during my recovery.    
• Not a day goes by that I am conflicted with how I should feel about this ordeal.
• Not a day goes by that I don't try to better myself physically, emotionally and mentally.
• Not a day goes by that I don't think about how I can help others that have been in my shoes.
• Not a day goes by that I don't think about how many others that have been in my shoes have helped me.
• Not a day goes by that I don't question my existence.
• Not a day goes by that I don't confirm the reason for my existence.
• Not a day goes by that I don't soak up the warmth of the sun.
• Not a day goes by that I don't embrace beauty of nature. 
• Not a day goes by that I don't thank my lucky stars for my parents.
• Not a day goes by that I don't  kiss my husband and tell him I love him.
• Not a day goes by that I don't hug and kiss my girls and feel extremely honored that they are mine.

Almost two years ago, I laid heartbeat less on an operating table....and Not a day goes by that I don't listen to the "thump thump thump" in my chest and  I stop what I am doing, take a deep breath and just be.

My favorite pic of my post operative state

To revisit my OHS story... read on

Ideal Day

I woke up at 7:30am, came downstairs and made myself a hot cup of half-caff coffee (the full caff makes me too jittery).  I started to write my blog as I curled up with my cup of coffee, warm cozy blanket, music softly playing in the background while the fire roared from the fireplace and the Christmas Tree lights twinkled.  After about an hour later, I got dressed for my Pilates reformer session.  I couldn't wait to get a great full body workout while stretching out some achy spots in my hip and back.  I stretched, I sweated, I stabilized, I did all things Pilates and when it was over, it was time to take a nice hot shower.  It was one of those walk-in showers that has the shower heads coming from the ceiling, the walls, and pretty much everywhere.  It was one of those showers that you don't want to end; you stay in until your skin is pruned. 

After toweling off, I had an appointment for a full body massage and facial.  I was greeted by this lovely lady that handed me a mimosa.  The mimosa was the perfect blend of OJ to Champagne.  I was getting tipsy by the end of the first one, but didn't say No to a refill that was offered.  I laid on the massage table and let the masseuse work her magic.  I felt the anxiety, stress and tension leave my body and before I knew it I was sleeping.  I awoken when she tapped me on my shoulder to let me know my massage was over, but that we would begin my facial.  Sadness followed by glee.  I absolutely love facials.  I felt my skin slowly getting softer and hydrated by the second and when I got up to look in the mirror after my facial, my face was glowing.

I was starving by this point, so I met my mom, dad and sister for lunch.  Since it was a cooler day here in Austin, we sat out on the restaurants patio with a heat lamp by our table.  We laughed a lot, teased a lot and ate a lot.  These lunches are never long enough, but how lucky am I that I get to have them!?  We said our goodbyes and promised that it wouldn't be long before we met up again.

I had some time to kill before I met up with friends for happy hour, so I went home, relaxed on the couch and continued reading the book I had just gotten from the library the other day.  It is one of those books that engulfs you; as you read you slowly become a character in the book.  Two hours passed by and it was time for me the meet up with my friends for happy hour.  I didn't have much time because I was meeting Matt for dinner, so as I sipped my chilled Lemon Drop Martini, I soaked up every second catching up with my friends.  We don't get together often, but when we do, we don't skip a beat.  We talk jobs, politics religion, love, family, -- pretty much anything and everything under the Sun.  Because friends can forgive each other for their differences.  I was just telling my friends about the relaxing day I had thus far when I looked at my watch and realized I was to meet Matt in about 10 minutes.  I called an Uber and met him at this new restaurant he wanted to try.  I usually let Matt pick the places, because he LOVES food and really enjoys the whole going out experience.  If it has food and drinks, count me in! 

When I walked into the restaurant, Matt was waiting for me looking handsome.  I am lucky, not only did I marry a funny, generous, caring man, but he is handsome as well.  We quickly got sat in a corner booth and started our date night.  I ordered another Lemon Drop Martini because WHY NOT?! and Matt sipped on some Bourbon concoction.  It's always re-energizing having adult time with my husband - between work, kids, and life - we don't have nearly as much time together as needed.  Dinner was delicious but as the check was dropped off at our table, I felt a twinge of tiredness creep into my body.  It was time to go home.

As I crept up the stairs in my house I was about to encounter the best part of my day, my girls.  Grace snuggled comfy in her bed and Peyton swaddled in her crib.  I gave them each a kiss and whispered to them how much I loved them and I'd see them in the morning - being very careful to not wake them up. And as my head hit the pillow and my eyes closed for the evening, I smiled and thought - 'now that was an ideal day'

And as my brain switched from fantasy to reality, the cries from the backseat started.  I smiled at Matt and said  - 'Now tell me about what your ideal day would look like?'

*********************************************************************************

Disclaimers:
*Yes, my ideal day doesn't have much interaction with my two small children.  Does that make me a bad mom?  I don't think so, it makes me a smart one.

*Yes, my ideal day involves lots of drinking.  Does that make me an alcoholic?  I don't think so, I just have been fantasying for drinking for the past 11 months.

*Yes, my ideal day involves pampering myself.  Does that make me selfish? I don't think so, it makes me recharged to take on more obstacles.

What does your ideal day look like?  For now, my ideal day looks like this!

There is beauty in the breakdown

Here we are, just past our 9 week mark of when our newest family member entered the World, and I am utterly exhausted, anxious, feeling like crap and overwhelmed.  I thought being  a mom second time around would be easier... haha, oh Allie, when will you ever learn, nothing you do is normal.  Nope! Given, I am five years old this time around, and holy shit, that totally makes a difference.

Recovery has been anything but a walk in the park, which by the way I imagined foolishly I would be doing with my newborn at this point in time.  After my repeat c-section I was plagued with immense pain....not from the c-section, nope but from TRAPPED GAS!  If you have ever had this pain, you know it no joke - for a good 24 hours I was withering in pain and could not take a deep breath or move a certain way because it felt like I was being stabbed on along my right side of my body.  I will never take my intestines and the art of passing gas for granted ever again, not that I ever did! I seriously considered that pain to be worse than after my OPEN HEART SURGERY!  WHATTTTTT! you crazy girl!!!  But seriously, I was hurting.

Then came my sore, cracked bleeding nipples from breastfeeding!  oh yes, someone suckling on my teets ever 2 hours wasn't as dreamy and loving as people make it out to be  Sorry La Leche League, you can bite the big one on this.  For a good week,  I had to pump only on my left boob, because the idea of Peyton latching on made my toes curled.  I dipped my nipple in salt water, air dried it, applied lanolin cream, wore a nipple guard - did everything, and a good week later my nip was in working order and open for business.

Maybe two uneventful weeks went by and then I woke up one morning feeling like I got hit by a truck - achy all over, headache that was pounding, chills and eventually a fever.   I got the flu shot, it cant be that, right?  As the day went on I was going downhill fast and that's when sweet little Peyton was taking a nap on my chest and moved and I felt a hard, tender spot on my right boob!  Yup, I had Mastitis! Its when a milk duct gets clogged and causes inflammation and infection in your boob.  But not only does it make your boob red, tender and achy, it truly makes you feel like shit!  A round of antibiotics later, my boob is healed and I am feeling physically much better..

All the while this was going on, my post partum anxiety was creeping up.  I had a really tough time at the beginning of this pregnancy with anxiety for about the first 16 weeks -- Thank you HORMONES.  Well, I guess these hormones are wrecking havoc again because my anxiety is wanting to welcome Peyton into the world as well.  Anxiety looks and feels different on all people, mine just so happens to make me feel off -balanced, rocking, swaying when I walk.   You know, if maybe you have had too many cocktails at your company's Christmas party or after you charter a yacht in st. barts and you get back on land - and you still feel like your swaying.  Well that's what mine feels like.  I know its from exhaustion, hormones and my body physically recovering from child birth, but holy shizzy, can I just get off this ride?  Although everyday is tough, the days seem like they'll never end, I also know that everyday I am getting stronger, in body and mind.

I realize how lucky I am to have anther healthy, happy, beautiful baby girl.  To be loved and supported by wonderful friends and family,  but I also realize the importance to shed some light on how a new mom, a second time mom, even a mom doing this for the fifth time might be struggling.  Having baby isn't all rainbows and butterflies; its trapped gas, bleeding nips, immense about of pain, anxiety out the wazoo.

It will get better.  I don't know when, but it will.  There is beauty in the breakdown

3 Months!

Titanium

With tear filled eyes, three months ago I said goodbye to my sleeping daughter.  I was about to undergo Open Heart Surgery and I was convinced this was the last time I was going to see that precious little girl.

The night before, Matt, my parents, Lee, Grace and myself had tried to have a calming evening with pizza and a dance party.  I knew everybody was on edge, but as always, my family rises to the occassion, and we turned a stressful event into a fun one.  As the evening progressed and everybody started to wind down, I was struck with an enormous mount of fear...no sh*t!  I was restless - Grace, Matt, my parents had gone to bed.  But Lee was up - so we started talking and talked and talked.  I think we talked until 1 or 2 in the morning and I had to be up by 5am.  I honestly can't remember exactly what we talked about but I remember feeling how great it was to connect with my sister.  We've always been close but over the years life has happened and really hasn't been much time for the two of us to connect, so in that moment I had my big sister to lean on and I loved it.  

Before I knew it, my alarm was going off and I had to "get ready" for surgery, meaning, I brushed my teeth and put a bra on, which would have to be taken off in 30 minutes anyway.  Lee was staying behind in the hotel room with Grace so Rita, my mother in law, could come and get her around 8am. That's when I had to say goodbye to Grace.  'Will this baby remmber me?'  'Will she know how much I loved her?'  All these existential life questions popping in my head and I just broke down.  I remember looking at her face, kissing her cheeks, holding her hands never wanting to let go.  I whispered in her ear how much I loved her, how proud I am of her, and how I'd always be with her - remember I was certain I was dying today. When I got up from kissing her for the last time I lost it. That's when I started to cry and didn't stop until they sedated me.  Not sobbing uncontrollably for two hours, but consistently on and off for the whole time.  In the elevator down, in the elevator up, seeing other children coming in for surgery, going into the hospital chapel, changing into my hospital gown, peeing, you name it - it brought me to tears.

Only two people could come back to the 'holding area' - you know the area that they make you anxiously await pre-surgery.  They stick you with big ass needles, try to comfort you but your body is already in flight mode.  I remember the surgeon coming in and asking me 'How are you feeling?' and what do you think happened??... I broke down crying i'm sniff sniff okay.  He took my hand and I remember him gentle rubbing my hand -- in a very approrpriate doctor bedside manner type of way. These hands that were comforting me where soon going to be cracking open my sternum and literally touching my heart.  

Next up was anesthesia - 'my best friends.' Nice guys, nice drugs, don't remember much of them, but I loved them.  Before I knew it, they were telling me they were taking me back.  I tearfully kissed Matt and my mom goodbye.  My mom whispered something I had told her my friend Isabel had said to me.... "The Universe Has You, We Got You."  I can't imagine being my mother - first, seeing me go through Cancer as a child, and now Open Heart Surgery as an adult.  Imagining myself in her shoes always make me tear up.  They injected me with a sedative, beacuse I remember I was sitting up and the second they put that into my IV, I felt dizzy and was groggy, I had to put my head down.  They started to wheel me away  and I remember taking one last glance back at Matt and my mom.  They were standing there strong but I knew the minute I was out of sight, that's when they could let go.

Wish I could say I remember going back to the OR, but I don't.  I think I remember them asking me to switch from the bed to the operating table, but I could've been dreaming that.  Next thing I knew I was waking up in the CVICU and Lee and Matt were coming in to see me.  Don't have much recollection of the next couple of hours, I was awake and talking but god knows what I said.  And apparently I was telling the nurses, I was the "party room."

Me shortly after surgery!

The first night was rough - the chest tube was horrendous.  I couldn't take a deep breath.  I couldn't sleep.  I was on fluid restrictions, so I think I got 200 ML for the first 24 hrs. My mom and Matt went to get some rest and Lee was already on her way back to Austin, and my dad wanted to stay with me.  I'm soo glad he did.  He was attentive, nuturing, sweet, gentle, everything my father isn't normally ( just kidding), but now in hindsight - I truly wouldn't have wanted anybody else taking care of me that first night.

The rest of the hospital stay was uneventful - and dare I say, a little enjoyable.  I was released 4 days after my surgery... 4 days!!!  Modern medicine is a beautiful thing.  Matt and I stayed close to Houston for about a week at Pat and Rita's and I absolutely loved staying with them.  They took care of me, they made sure I was comfortable.  I'm so lucky to have married into such a wonderful family.    I got cleared to head back to Austin a week postop.  I walked, rested and watched a lot of trashy T.V during my recovery.  It was glorious.    This morning I went to the gym before work and I did an hour of circuit training -- 12 weeks ago I was laying heartbeatless on an operating table and today I'm here!

Me Recovering at the Casserly's

All of your love, support, well wishes, prayers, cards, flowers, gifts, etc....have been so appreciated.  I've been told that i'm a strong person, but the only reason why I'm strong is because I have you all behind me.

From the bottom of my mended heart

Thank you xoxox
Allie

It's Time Like These

It's Time Like These

It's been two months since I last wrote.  Soo little and soo much has happened in that time.  Summer has come and gone --- well the heat is still here in Texas, but the kiddos are back to school, traffic is abundant and college football starts this weekend!  Always such a great time here in Austin.  But the traffic nor weather has not been my central focus this past summer.  I want to tell you about my journey.....

So let me pick up where I left off..... They found a hole in my heart.  Awesome.  Solution - easy, go for a less invasive procedure where they thread a small device (metal/titanium) from your groin into your beating heart - plug up the hole, Voila!  You're good to go.  SCREECH (record stopping noise). Nothing in my life has been that easy, call me a pessimist, I doubted this all-too-easy-procedure.  I can't tell what it was but something in my gut said "Allie, research more and think before you leap." Believe me when the doctor first said they could fix this without surgery I was admitting myself into the hospital to get the procedure done.  But, something stopped me.  Maybe intuition, maybe timing... Matt and I were scheduled to go to Mexico for a friend's wedding three weeks after I found out about my condition, whatever it was, it stopped me from going through with the procedure which gave me more time to do research.   What I found out, scared me.  Maybe  it wouldn't scare others.  But this metal device that would plug up my heart has only been around for 20 years -- I know that's a long time in medicine.  But reports that I read, not internet forums, but published researched articles that I read kept giving me doubt about this "easy" procedure.  I thought short term versus long term.   I weighed risks of device versus surgery.  I prayed, cried and even went to a psychic to guide me on a choice to make.  haha I know silly to some, helpful to others. Throughout the process, I realized, I will never come from a place from judgement again,, er, I'll try not to!  Whatever helps you get through your situation - do it!

I have gotten endless amounts of love and support throughout the journey,  it honestly makes everyday a little bit more bearable.  One support system has been this online group that I joined.  My wonderful friend from college, put me in touch with a friend of hers that has a CHD (congenital heart defect), and this wonderful soul took time to speak to me, she informed me of a facebook group called the "The Zipper Sisters"  - and although I don't technically have a zipper scar, I don't feel judged, I don't feel silly asking millions of questions, and most of all I'm inspired with what these women face on a basis. After many questions and conversations later I found that I needed to get out of Austin to get a second opinion. .  I contacted Cleveland Clinic, Mayo Clinic, University of Chicago - they do robotic surgery, and lastly on a whim I emailed the Surgeon-in-Chief at Texas Children's Hospital in Houston.

I got a call from the surgeon that night,  I emailed him in the morning and that evening while I was playing with Grace, he called my cell.  Like we were old buddies.  He told me he would see me when I came to Houston and we could speak more about options.  For once in this journey, I felt happy.

Two weeks ago, I walked into Texas Children's Hospital, by far the oldest patient there,  Matt and I spent the entire day at the hospital while they administered an ECHO, EKG, XRAY and hooked me up to a holter monitor.  I sat in rooms with themes of Mickey Mouse, Goofy, Dora the Explorer.  Matt was giggling the whole time -- to be me it felt like home.  Remember, I spent many days/weeks in hospitals and cheerfully decorated examination rooms when I had Leukemia.  At 4 it was normal, at 16, it was a little odd, now at 32, it was comforting.   I was set to meet with the assistant director of the adult congenital heart program and Surgeon-in-Chief. (my old pen pal),  I honestly was prepared for them reiterate what the doctors in Austin told me.  Maybe getting the device would be the best option.  What the told me was not only did I have a sizable hole in my heart, but that I had two "leaky" valves that the surgeon was certain would be needing repair down the road....so weeks and weeks of wondering of how to correct this defect, device closure or surgery, vanished.   I was now told that surgery was my best option.  I've gone through every emotion you could imagine, but the shit storm of emotions have subsided a bit and I am feeling a little peace.



While I wait to confirm the date of my surgery, I thank you all for your continued support.

A heart full of love

Today's my birthday.  I'm 32 years old.  It's only fitting that I share this information today.  I have a hole in my heart.  Apparently it's been there since I was born. I'm having a procedure today (happy birthday to me!) that will find out more -  ( how big the hole is, what they can do to repair, etc).   But what I do know is 32 years ago today, all 7lbs 5 oz of me came into barreling into this world.

Believe me, yesterday when I got the primary results and the inital news about this I was devasted.  I literally was out in the waiting room on the phone crying for my mom.  And like my mom and dad have done for past 32 years, they dropped everything and came to be by my side.  They call it parenting.  I call it fu$king lucky to be born into their arms.

After several hours of crying, dropping F-bombs like a sailor and why me-ing, I collected my thoughts and realized how incredibly lucky I am.  Here I am -  a cancer survivor, masters degree holding, marathon finisher, wife of a great husband,  daughter of the most loving parents, younger sister of the most fiercely protective older sister,  and mother of the most beautiful baby girl in the world.  Surrounded by loving family and friends everyday for the past 32 years.  I'm so lucky.  Yes, my 32nd year isn't starting off the way I would hope but I'm strong, I'm feisty, and I've never felt like piece of me has been missing.

My heart is whole.  

**I'll keep you all updated on my results.

Check-up

I'm not dead. In fact, I didn't even wake up during surgery, feel the pain of my skin being torn apart, or have any sort of sleep paralysis. Hollywood has lied to me yet again. What's next, the Barden Bellas don't actually win nationals this year?

Anna Kendrick... you're America's sweetheart.

Anyway, I was going to give an update with a brief synopsis of what my time off and recovery were like, but I wrote that out, and it was pretty boring. I've decided that I'm going to impart wisdom instead; lists are way easier to use when trying to organize your thoughts. Without further ado, here are the top four life lessons I've learned in my last four weeks of recovery.

4) Know your limitations.
A surprising lesson I learned over my two weeks at home: there are limits to the amount you can walk around your neighborhood before 1) reaching certain levels of insanity and 2) developing intense foot pain that far exceeds your post-op surgery pain. Petie and I learned every nook and cranny in our neighborhood within a week of recovery. After the first or second day, I downloaded an audiobook (The Girl on the Train... the next Gone Girl, it is not, but it was entertaining). If you're walking over 90 minutes a day, you need an audiobook. You also need Dr. Scholl's insoles. After a couple of days of exploring the neighborhood, I got to a point where I could barely walk around on our wood floors without wearing a slipper. I looked like I had a Michael Jackson complex except on my feet (nay, foot).

My slipper is not nearly as flashy.

3) Nature, you cray.
Despite the limitations of my body, the skin on my stomach was literally torn open and separated just below the waist, a large piece removed, and then put right back together with glue and stitches.... looooootttttsss of stitches. Within three hours of being glued and sewn back together, I was walking up the stairs to bed.

Well, the second image in the March of Progress most accurately describes how I was "walking" on the first day.

That's pretty amazing, in my opinion. The body's natural ability to heal itself is incredible. Additionally, I never knew how many rabbits and deer lived in our neighborhood prior to those long walks with Petie.

Why must I join you for this?

It was like a Disney movie, and I was a princess. Wait, no... I was Gaston, as you see...

Seriously, who's the real jerk in Beauty and the Beast? The beast kidnaps and imprisons Belle. Gaston leads the march to save Belle in her obvious state of Stockholm syndrome. YOU TELL ME WHO THE HERO IS IN THAT STORY. Uh, where was I?

2) Set reasonable goals.
I'll admit, I got a TAD stir crazy during the recovery process. I was limited to lifting 10 lbs. That's roughly three Peties or 1/3 of a Grace. You feel pretty useless after awhile, but my goal was to be able to lift, at least, Grace weight within two weeks. I was told more than once by my doctor that was a bad idea because you could easily ruin results and injure yourself just by incorrectly lifting something. So, I did what any stir crazy person would do and found ways to circumvent the rules, ever so slightly. I might not have been able to lift Grace into her crib, but I was able to change her diaper if given adequate time to sit down on the ground. I wasn't able to get her onto her changing table, but I was able to move a footrest to the changing table and lift about 1/3 of her bodyweight while she scaled the changing table. By not attempting to hurt myself within a week or two of surgery, I am currently able to achieve my longer-term reasonable goals of being back in the gym within a month lifting moderate amounts of weight. It's humbling to be where I am right now with my lifts, but I'll be back to normal in a few months, and that's alright by me.

1) I get by with a little help from my [family and] friends.

I wouldn't have been able to recover as easily and as well as I did without my family, friends, and medical staff's support. Especially the support of Allie and Grace, my local nurses. Without these two, in particular, I would've been a lump in bed easily mistaken for a pillow. There was a time the evening after the surgery where I was laying in bed, unable to do a hell of a lot, where I was joined by my in-home staff.

It's selfie-o'clock.

They were clearly worn out from my constant requests for electrolytes and sandwiches.

What can I say? I had an insatiable desire for lemon-lime Gatorade and chicken salad.

I cannot thank them enough for putting up with me until I was able to get out of bed with little assistance. I was also humbled by the amount of people that reached out to me to ensure that our house was not falling apart, that we wouldn't get HOA notices saying our grass was too fall, and we had easy-access meals ready to go. So, a big thank you to everyone who helped out in my time of need. I owe you all baked goods.

Well, I hope these life lessons have been enlightening... so, wanna see some pictures? In addition to all of this wisdom taking up space in this big ol' brain of mine, I've created an album of the pre-op/post-op process including a compilation picture. Granted, there hasn't been enough time to see a ton of progress, but you can definitely see a difference between pre-op and week 4, so I'd consider things a success. The pictures show me shirtless, so if that might bother you or an employer, you've been warned. Enjoy. If you want to see pictures of the actual surgery taking place... yes, ones where you can see my insides... I have those, too. If you want to see those, you sick... sick person... just shoot me a message. They're awesome.

Date Night!

I got to go on two dates this weekend.  On Saturday night, Matt and I went out to this great restaurant downtown - Arro.  If you are in Austin, go check it out.  It's delicious.  The drinks are fabulous and the food even better.  Earlier in the week, Matt and I were trying to think the last time just us two went out to a nice meal..we came to conclusion, it was way too long ago and this night out was long overdue.   We laughed, we drank, we ate (alot!), we relaxed, we enjoyed every ounce of that grown up date.  Of course we say we should go out more often, and we try, we really do, but life happens, plans fall through and then it is another 8 months until we're alone. 

The second date I went on this weekend was on Sunday afternoon.  I wasn't technically on this date, I was more of the observer.   Matt wanted to try out this gelato place, so on a nice warm Sunday afternoon - Matt, Grace and I piled into the car and headed to Dolce Neve.  As great as my date was the night before with Matt, the daddy-daughter date that I got to be a part of was one of the best dates I've been on.   There is something about watching Matt and Grace interact that always takes my breath away.