From the beginning...

I've been thinking a lot lately about the beginning. When Will was first out of the hospital. When he would easily frustrate if too many conversations were going on in the room, or if we were coaching him to improve.  Or when our conversations were one or two words, and involved very little eye contact. He was always slouched on the couch and looking dreadfully tired. He was not confused, because he had so little to think about. But we were constantly perplexed with how best to help him and why he wasn't "helping" himself. Considering his state, the last thing on my mind was a relationship.  I only knew I would need someone to step in and offer a hand of friendship- if I were ever in his situation. I had no idea what the future held for us. What wonderful things were in store for the both of us. During those first two years, we drifted through intense sorrow, anger, and at times pity.  I can't tell you how many times we both wept. Our faces reddened from the hours of inconsolable pain. We couldn't accept what had happened to Will. We were trying to accept that he might never get better. Those times, are now such a distant memory. And while the consequences of Will's stroke still haunt our bank accounts, and have me fretting for the future of our children… they are so small in comparison- to those first two years.

I guess I am talking about this now because I have been following a couple blogs (Elder Schenk & Rob's Stroke Recovery) that have me wanting to reach out and just hold the members of the families of those involved. To let them know that things will get better, in fact they can be better than they were before the said incident. One blog hits close to home because it involves a father who had a stroke a few weeks before graduating with an advanced dental degree. Another hits a nerve because it is a missionary from Utah who was hit in Brazil and is clinging to life in a hospital there…. as the weeks pass he is slowly recovering an much of what he is currently going through resembles Will's first few weeks, after his stroke.

I don't want those reading this blog to believe that I am saying that because my husband "got better" that everyone will have a happy ending.  Our ending is far from over and we're still hoping for the happy part. What I mean to say is that the experience of going through something so traumatic-- has deepened our joys and lifted us from the life we had known. Not only do we weep when we read these blogs- out of a shared feeling, but we know that no matter how difficult the journey-- they will not be left comfortless if they rely on the hope of a better day.  There is more to this life than careers, wealth, and comfort.  This knowledge makes you better. It changes the way you treat others. It changes the way you use your time. And for this I will be eternally grateful.  I pray for those that suffer. I know that their sorrows are many and are not light, but I know with deepened joy they can know that there is a Father in Heaven who has not left them alone, and who will strengthen them every step of the way-- this is what makes it all worth it.

As for the rest of our lives… We find out the gender of the baby I carry a week from today. The offer on our condo fell through so we won't be moving yet!  Which is great because originally we were moving the week of Will's big test. And of course my husband is getting more involved in his studies because the  date of the exam is quickly approaching.  He wakes up at 5:30 am most mornings and studies morning till dawn.  I get his time on weekends :) Below are pictures from Ben's first two Easter egg hunts.  It's sooo much fun having a toddler!!  Ben is soooo cute!  Will was much more effective in guiding Ben to the eggs. Ben came away from "my" easter egg hunt with three eggs and the one where daddy was there too, with 12 easter eggs. I love my Boys!!

Endure:To withstand with courage

What a simple definition. I have to admit having had quite a bit different impression of the word. I pictured pioneers pulling handcarts across snow covered plains without shoes. I pictured my grandma seven years into a debilitating illness- wondering if she would ever be relieved of the pain and shaking. I never, however, pictured it the way it was defined by President Thomas S. Monson this weekend at a Young Women's General Conference. For the first time the word Endure- meant something more powerful to me instead of something more difficult and sad. The term is now becoming something I can put my heart into. My arms around. I can ask myself in the midst of a "great trial" or even a "small trial" - do I feel courageous right now? Am I acting with courage? Or am I merely just muttling through just waiting for the hard times to end.  I confess to the latter more often than I am comfortable with admitting.

My sister asked me last week to come up with something I could do better. As I listed the first thing that came to my mind, she quickly put down my idea - as it was a put down, sounding of defeat.  She said-- "That can't possibly be it-- your Heavenly Father would not encourage you with a feeling of failure. Those thoughts are coming from the adversary. Try again." The next time I thought of something I really wanted to change.  I thought of a goal I could accomplish. I had a glimpse of myself changing- becoming better. Feeling better.  I guess you could say, feeling courageous. I've determined after my brief 33.5 years here on this earth that life is riddled with trial and human weakness.  And not because it is our doom or destiny to live a life of sorrow. It is so we can prove our courage. That we can rise above. And that through the strength of the being who created us- we will rise above. My classic example is my dear husband. He has and continues to withstand with courage. I am inspired by his faith and courage. And when I look into our child's eyes I can only believe that our moving through this experience together is the greatest experience I could ask for, and it is not tarnished with sadness but joy.  The kind of joy that makes you believe.  That gives you more courage.

As for our lives, things are crazy around here. Ben is climbing up ladders and on tables, and in drawers. Will is gone 88.9 percent of his waking hours to the library. I am emerging triumphantly from my first trimester of pregnancy! I practically lived in my bed for two months-- it feels nice to be able to get out and go places now :) We're probably going to move in the next month, and the week after that Will is going to take Step 3 of the boards. Lots of great things in our future. So keep with us!

Summer

ps I can't help but leave you with a visual example of the title of this post. Check out this Link.

The Hardest Part

The hardest part is when no one is looking, when no one knows, when things are in the early development stages…. Where failure and success seem equally matched.  Where you are the one that determines how you will deal with the situation. No one cheering you on, no one on board with your successes and accomplishments, because they are only seeds in your mind…. instead of creations built by years of trial and error.

I hope this analogy wasn't too vague. I hope that you can connect with the feeling of loneliness in trial.  Like so much can be broken because things are in the fetal stages. For most women the first 13 weeks of their pregnancy is their hardest. The baby is in such a premature developmental stage many women tell no one, because of increased fears of miscarriage.  They experience intense tiredness, nauseousness, weakness, discomfort-- all with little support, and little sympathy.  I have felt scared and alone the last few months. I want this baby I carry. I want to be a strong mother. I want Ben to have a little brother or sister. But so much has been unknown and"hidden" from the world. And finally now-- my "successes" are starting to show. My pants are fitting tighter and my belly bump is quite prominent.

I feel like Will is in his "first trimester" aka development stage. His successes are only seeds in our minds-- but they are real. Because so little has been shown publicly it is harder--- his situation is harder. More doubt, and fear can creep in, more room for failure because there is still so far to go.  I think though, the hardest part is essential for the appropriate development of the whole. Our baby will come with pain and trial-- but will be stronger because of this critical development time. Will is going to be stronger. And while no one is watching right now and he has little support I know his seeds will grow to be something even better than ever thought possible, because he has persisted through the hardest part - the alone part- and he is stronger for it.

My (Will's) thoughts: 

Its hard to put my thoughts in writing.  Briefly, I want to say that I look forward to having a new child in the home.  It will be born in mid September, shortly before Ben's second birthday.  In the meantime, I will be pushing forward and hopefully moving back to being a doctor.  This includes taking a test in May, and then, if that goes well, interviewing at different hospitals for an internship.  That is the hard part, but I know that through diligent hard work even the most difficult things are possible.  So I am looking forward, forward to a new beautiful baby and to a bright promising future.  

Like before

I was talking to my husband the other day, and I don't think he knew, but we practically repeated a conversation we had from before he had a stroke. This may not be a big deal to many reading, but to me it was a big deal. There were times when I never thought a "pre-stroke" Will would be possible. Our articulate conversations is particularly what I am referring to. Analyzing, detailing, problem solving-- these things were a little hazy in the days following his stroke-- actually they were really hazy for the first two years following the stroke.  After our first year of marriage I began to feel the pressure of making decisions and solving "our problems" and etc… melt away. Little by little our roles have become more equal.  Will can identify issues and can create solutions much like he did before the stroke. He is on his way. Currently, on his journey towards taking the boards, Will's practice test scores are improving all the time.  And while I don't know if he'll make the impossible possible (passing a test only first year residents are required to take and pass, after much in clinic experience) if anyone can do it he can. Will studies 8-10 hours a day and it's amazing. In the meantime, anyone reading this blog can know it's been tried, tested and proven -- persistence and belief in a better day will lead to extraordinary results.

Moving forward...

My heart broke into a million pieces a few weeks ago when my sister called me to let me know a close friend of mine lost her brother, TJ, in a car accident. He was only 18 years old.... in fact last year I took his high school senior pictures. After the shock of the news wore off I sorta just rolled into a state of sadness... I couldn't believe it. And when I tried to believe it, I was just more sad. I tried to explain the pain away but that didn't help either. In fact I've been so late on this blog entry because I haven't known what to say. I still don't really know what to say. I don't think TJ's sister will ever read this, and I don't have to make things better for the family, but I at least want to offer comfort. Comfort to anyone who has dealt with loss on such a grand scale.

I read in the news an article of a young mother her lost her husband.... she said she didn't like the phrase "moving on" you don't ever move on from something like this. You move forward. From the minute something like this happens you start "moving forward."  You don't let it "define you" or hold you back. In Will's case the stroke will always be a part of his life. But how he has moved forward and continues to move forward from his injury has made all the difference. Our marriage is one of the many results of his not giving up. Of his moving forward. His positive attitude in the face of such a difficult circumstance has made his situation so much better than it could have been.

As far as words of comfort-- I want to share one thing I know for sure. That this life is not the end. It isn't the beginning either. We lived with our Heavenly Father before we came. We accepted the opportunity to come here and TJ has returned to prepare to live with our Father in Heaven once more. And while the separation for his family is bitter. It is not forever. TJ's family can see him again, if they also live worthy to see the Father again. TJ's mother has already said her desire to live better is so much stronger, knowing that if she lives right she can see her son again. And it is only through the atoning sacrifice of the Father's Only Begotten, Jesus Christ, who made it possible for our flesh to be taken up again and to be reunited with our spirit. No greater comfort can I offer than the personal invitation to all who read this blog to strengthen their relationship with the Savior. So that they might live in total peace that no matter what happens in this life.... we will live again.  And we can live in glory with our families as we lean on our Saviors purifying power, and become more worthy each day for his kingdom.

When TJ died he was on the way home from a dentist appointment. The appointment was one of a few appointments he needed to complete to prepare to leave his family for two years and serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I believe February 1, 2012, TJ instead was called to serve a different mission.

Take a minute to watch the following video clip about a man who lost half his family in a car crash caused by a drunk driver...

Cognitive Recovery

I gave up the "angry life isn't fair business" in the first year of Will's stroke. I knew I couldn't live like that. I knew we shouldn't live like that. But today I felt a little resentment. I felt justified. And for a moment I felt angry. On national television a reporter repeated Gabby Giffords doctor who said "physical recovery tends to plateau after at the year mark, but cognitive recovery happens for years. It just keeps getting better." I feel like I have been trying to convince doctors and specifically Will's neurosphycologist-- who writes letters to the doctors, of this fact for years. Why am I the one trying to convince the "experts" that my husband is getting better that cognitive recovery happens past 6-12 months unlike much physical recovery. That Will's cognitive recovery has never stopped! Every time our neuropsychologist writes a letter -- it just gets someone else to close a door on us!!! He, and other physicians (not all) have tried to get us to believe that Will's cognition is going to plateau and that will be that.  I recognize our situation is not as black and white as give Will enough time and he'll be the same old doctor he was before. But I also believe he can be a doctor again and he will be a better doctor than he was before. I know this because I have front row seats to the most amazing cognitive recovery ever.

So why was I angry... I guess my anger was really fear. I don't want to hear no again. I don't want Will to be passed by for an interview because of potential misinformation/misunderstanding on the side of the interviewers. I want Will to have a chance. He studies anywhere from 8-10 hours a day!  He doesn't give himself a day or hour off (I should know I tried to get him to just watch a movie with me tonight and he told me he couldn't he needed to study).  I pray with all of my heart that Will's desires and preparation will lead him back to where he really longs to be. And I know not a day goes by that he doesn't pray for the same.  Will has until June to take and pass Step 3 of the boards. After that this particular opportunity will no longer be available to him. Pray for Will this year. Pray for him to be able to scale this very steep wall that could lead him back to a residency position.

Speaking of extraordnary-- our son eats with a spoon and hardly makes a mess at all!!! At 16 months.  Also he is offically walking as of a couple weeks ago!

A New Year

I was at whit ends the last part of the year-- thinking- what will we do if we don't get into Physicians Assistant school.  Waiting and hoping for a chance to start again, I nearly drove myself crazy. And then something happend.  Will lost any inhibition he might have had to wait for an opportunity and started studying. He has been putting in 8 to 10 hour days for weeks now-- studying to take the third set of the boards. He takes and re-takes practice tests and is pouring over test prepartion materials. Without my prompting my husband is on fire with more motivation/desire to become a doctor than I've ever seen before. I am so pleased with this change of events that any sadness over not getting into PA school has melted away. 

I am so happy to be his wife. To be the wife of someone who hasn't buckled under the weight of what seems to be an insormountable trial.  I have never seen someone fight so hard to get back what he lost. His focus has never waivered. We have written and re-written plans and found more dead ends than I wish to count. There have been many opportunities to just walk away, but Will doesn't take the bait. I find more meaning in this relationship and in my husbands determination than I ever thought possible.  I am grateful to be the recipient of such a wonderful love. In the prescence of such an amazing individual- day in and day out. And as we spent a day and a half away from our little guy to celebrate our anniversary. Shopping, eating out, playing chess, drinking hot chocoalate, listening to music, going to the movie theater, and staying at a fun hotel downtown Salt Lake City; I felt like the luckiest girl on earth. I don't know what our future holds but I know from past experince that it holds something wonderful.