Why Not?

Posted on October 5, 2022February 1, 2023 by keepinthesunlightblog@gmail.com

I don’t know when or where my 5-year-old picked this up, but lately, his favorite phrase is, “Why not?” Of course this statement is usually preceded by something like, “Let’s have a cookie, cuz, why not?” or “Let’s watch TV, cuz, why not?”

As adults, we have the life experience to always think of a thousand answers to the “Why not?” question. We can’t just jump on every whim or thought that crosses our minds. They could be dangerous or unhealthy or financially irresponsible. We don’t want to act on things that may cause eventual harm to ourselves or others or our world. We have the foresight to see the future consequences of our choices. So, “Why not?” becomes less of a fun philosophy and more of an actual consideration.

But, sometimes the things holding us back from certain goals or actions or trips are fears with no basis or an overthinking that can be safely quieted. I know that I can’t embrace my son’s philosophy on quite the same level as him and that part of my job as his parent is to help him find that balance too. But sometimes, every now and then, maybe it’s a good idea to look at that cookie or that idea or that dream and shrug my shoulders and say, “Why not?”

How an Extremely Claustrophobic Person, Like Me, Finally Got Into the MRI Machine

Posted on August 26, 2022February 21, 2023 by keepinthesunlightblog@gmail.com

Here’s the thing – I love cozy little spaces that I make for myself and have control over. I love book nooks and beds tucked sweetly into small spaces. I’m forever trying to find a way to set up my desk or sewing area in a closet. The snug, safe feeling of these spaces gives me a warm and happy feeling. …However… I am also EXTREMELY claustrophobic. Like, to the point of having panic attacks in places most people wouldn’t think twice about. Sometimes when I begin thinking about it, I even get a claustrophobic feeling just being inside our home or not being near an ocean. The feeling is real and big and scary.

So, when I needed to get an MRI for a head issue, I was not a happy camper. The issue wasn’t necessarily urgent…unless, of course, it was. I wouldn’t know until I got the MRI. I was scared out of my mind, and it initially took me three months, but I went in. I’d found an “open MRI” in the area and was thrilled that this could be an option I could work with. I listened to a meditation podcast; I’d asked a lot of questions ahead of time; I was ready. The tech placed my head in the – let’s just call it what it was – cage, and started sending me into the machine. I’d like to say I lasted two whole seconds in there, but I don’t think I got that far. I screamed to be let out. And that was that. (For the record, unless I was going to be lying on my side, which I wasn’t, the “open” MRI felt more claustrophobic than the tunnel one – to me, at least.)

My nurse practitioner worked to get me a CT-Scan instead, which wasn’t fun (the contrast portion of the scan was the worst), but I made it through. The great news was that everything looked normal! The bummer news was that the neurologist listened to my issue and said I’d definitely need an MRI for a better picture and to make sure everything was okay.

And then, I found every reason on the planet to put it off. Maybe I could ‘solve’ this problem on my own? Was it just my imagination, or were things seeming better? And then there was the Covid excuse. I’d conveniently forget about making this appointment when numbers were low, and then when numbers spiked, I felt justified in putting the MRI off a little longer. It wasn’t that I was casual about this procrastination. Not at all. I spent many, many nights suffering with head pains and panicking about all the unknowns. But, to me, getting into an MRI machine felt like the equivalent of asking someone who is afraid of heights (me, also) to stand on the ledge of a very tall building while the scan was being performed. It felt truly terrifying.

But when problems began occurring again, and with my worst-case-scenario mind, there was no way I could put it off any longer. ONE YEAR after speaking with the neurologist, I finally took solid steps to make this MRI happen. It really came down to my kids. If there was something wrong, I had to find out before it was too late.

Here’s what I did to prepare:

–Early on, I spoke with one of my best friends who has had to have many MRIs for way bigger reasons than I was dealing with. She was so wonderful though about listening to my fears and concerns and offering me the support I needed. She explained step-by-step how an MRI typically went for her. She offered helpful tips and thoughts and was a constant source of love and understanding through my whole journey.

–My NP had offered anti-anxiety medicine as an option from the beginning. As somebody who can be skeptical about taking medication, I was strongly against this. But more than that really, I had this fear that if I took medication that relaxed me enough to get into the machine, that I would later have terrifying flashbacks of being in there, as if I’d tricked myself into being okay with that situation. I know it sounds strange if you’re not as claustrophobic as I am, but it was a real fear. But, when I knew I was really going to put my best effort into doing this, I accepted the prescription. She suggested I take one tablet ahead of time to see which dose was a right amount for me, but this idea did not thrill me. I don’t like the thought of not being in control, and that’s what this sounded like. BUT…I also didn’t want to go into the appointment and not be able to go through with the actual MRI. So, I tested out a half a tablet three days before the appointment. It didn’t seem to be enough for me to do this super-scary thing, so I added another half, and as I was singing myself to sleep, I realized I’d hit the perfect amount.

–I researched the MRI facilities covered by my insurance and found a good fit. Besides my claustrophobia, the first facility I’d gone to was not a good match for me. I didn’t get a good vibe from the people there, they had complete disregard for Covid safety at a time when they REALLY should have, and it wasn’t where I wanted to be for such a big thing. I found a promising place and called to ask if I could come see the machine before the appointment. Their willingness to let me do this was a great sign. I wasn’t so sure as I sat in the waiting room. My mind was ready to make excuses to put this off even longer, as much as I wanted it to finally be done. But the tech who met with me was terrific. He showed me the machine. I took a picture of it and wrote down the model and make. He talked about how the scan would go. I asked my list of questions from my notebook. It all made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could do this. I was sure to ask him specifically what days and times he worked, because even though he spoke highly of the other techs, I knew that going into this big, scary thing with at least some familiarity of a person I already knew I liked, would be very helpful.

–I did a lot of online research. I searched for articles and posts (like the one I’m writing now) by people who were terrified of having an MRI and were able to do it. I looked at lots of pictures of machines online. Sometimes they didn’t seem so bad and I’d wonder what I was so worried about. But then the thought of being inside would make me shudder. It did help me start to visualize though. I would also listen to noises of what it sounds like in the machine, because it wasn’t just the claustrophobic tunnel; it was the head cage and the loud noises and yes, of course, the results, that made me overflow with nerves and panic.

–I wrote down mantras and I chanted them over and over. The kids were used to hearing me say these throughout the day. I said them when I took my ‘practice’ medication. These are what I would cling to during the scan. (I kid you not. My kids have a small expandable play tunnel, and I would practice lying in there and saying these mantras.)

THE BIG DAY

Here’s what I did on the day of the appointment:

–We only have one car and no babysitters, so that meant this was going to be a family trip. In the car, at least. My husband and the kids would wait in the car while I went in to do this. I made sure there were snacks and water for the kids (Ok, actually my husband did that). But I made sure that I had not one, but two gifts for the kids to give to me after my appointment – a book I’d been wanting and not letting myself look at until after this appointment and a darling cuddly dragon doll. The kids had been so supportive, and I knew they’d be excited to give me these when I was done.

–I took half a tablet of my medication one hour before my appointment and the other half on the way there. I had also cut one tablet into fourths and so I ended up taking another one-fourth when I got there as well. I did not want to leave without having this MRI.

–I made sure to take my ring off ahead of time and I wore clothes with no metal, so that I could stay in my own comfortable outfit.

–I had found out from the tech during my meeting with him that they offer a little mirror placed on the head cage so that the person can see out. YES!! This was a game-changer for me. I had called ahead of time to double-check this was an option and that I didn’t have to give extra notice about this. Fortunately, the tech was so super great about making sure I was comfortable, making sure I had the mirror in place, re-explaining how everything would go and how long it would take, giving me ear plugs for the noise, showing me the emergency call button. And then… it was time. And, I. Was. Ready!

The Scan!

After all my fears about getting into the machine, I now thought of new ones. I’d spent the night singing to myself while testing the medication and I’d just been singing to myself in the lobby (yes, I was that crazy lady). But, I was told I couldn’t really make noise or move during the scan. Oh, no. What if my singing just came pouring out? What if I was so relaxed that I fell asleep and my head moved or I started snoring? eeps!

Fortunately though, none of that happened. I had a sing-free, snore-free scan. Whew!

It went quicker than I thought. Not that it was fast, but after years of build-up, it really was only about 25 minutes. I made a choice when I was getting sent in that I would not, WOULD. NOT. look up at the actual machine. I looked at the mirror and my toes and the tech getting started. But, after that, I just closed my eyes. The noises were loud and each scan had a different strange set of sounds. But, oddly (ahem, medication), my mind started picturing shapes and dances to each of these bizarre soundtracks. I focused on my breath and said my mantras, especially as I was going in, but once it started, I didn’t even feel like I needed to rely on these.

Pretty soon the tech was wheeling me out to put in the contrast, and I knew then (from my many questions and reviewing all my notes several times and him reminding me) that I was now almost done. The contrast was way easier than the CT-Scan contrast – thank goodness. (No sensation of feeling like I’d peed myself.). And then, that was it! I was out!!

Done!!

I was SO, SO proud of myself and SO relieved.

The next step, of course, was waiting for the results, which, I had really tried not to think about too much ahead of time. Now they consumed my every thought. And, of course, I got my scan on a Friday afternoon. And, of course, it was a holiday weekend. And, of course, my doctor’s office couldn’t post the results until my NP had looked at them and she was out of town that week. But, I was finally able to log on to the MRI office’s site to see them. And, thank you to the Universe and all that is Good, everything was normal.

Getting this MRI scan that most people would probably just check off on a lunch break was a huge, huge deal for me. From the time I first talked to an NP about what was going on (We had recently moved and didn’t even have medical professionals in the area yet) to the time I actually got the scan was about two years. I’m beyond grateful that my results were normal (not that we’ve necessarily solved what’s going on, but ruling out some major health issues is such an enormous relief). And not carrying around the weight of this impending MRI scan is an incredible feeling.

So, this is the post I wish I could have read while gearing up for this, and I share it here now in the hopes that it can find its way to someone else who might be scouring the Internet like I was for some sort of advice on how a claustrophobic person can make it through an MRI scan. And while I don’t know you or your situation, I want to let you know that I DO believe in you. If this is a big deal for you, then your feelings are valid. And maybe, just maybe, if an extremely claustrophobic person, like myself, can make it through, so can you!

How to Have a Birthday

Posted on January 4, 2022February 13, 2023 by keepinthesunlightblog@gmail.com

How to Have a Birthday (2021)
words by Mary Lyn Ray
illustrated by Cindy Derby

“On the morning of your birthday, you can tell already that the day is not like others.”

I’m always on the lookout for good books to read every year on our birthdays, and this one is definitely a winner! It encapsulates the excitement and specialness of a birthday. This picture book goes through a day in the life of a birthday. The author hints at some things that may happen — people singing to you, having a birthday tradition — but she also leaves it open that you can always sing to yourself or that your tradition may be trying something new each year or just being surprised by the day. I happened upon this book right before my birthday, and I strongly feel that it is a message full of magic and sweetness, no matter your age. The illustrations fit perfectly, and I’m so looking forward to adding this to our birthday book collection.

Our Subway Baby

Posted on January 3, 2022February 15, 2023 by keepinthesunlightblog@gmail.com

Our Subway Baby (2020)

words by: Peter Mercurio
pictures by: Leo Espinosa

This picture book is a true story written from a father to his son to tell the story of how their family was formed. This short picture book is so inspiring and so beautiful. I love stories like this where fate and Life have such a clear path, even if it’s fully unexpected. Stories like this keep me believing in miracles.

Here’s one of many interviews.

Pregnancy After Miscarriage

Posted on November 28, 2021February 15, 2023 by keepinthesunlightblog@gmail.com

In my post about my miscarriage, I touched on what pregnancy was like for me after my miscarriage. While I understand everyone’s experience is vastly different, my pregnancy after miscarriage was a huge emotional roller coaster. I think many people, including myself, thought that a positive pregnancy test after what we’d been through would be a ray of sunshine and hope. And while there were those moments, for sure, there were also many, many moments of worry and concern over this new baby’s journey.

Just four months into this pregnancy, I began leaking fluids and panicked. I prepared myself for the worst and how I would be able to handle another heartbreak. All turned out to be fine, thank goodness, but this was one of many moments when I braced myself for the worst. Even at the birth, our little sweetheart had shoulder dystocia, a cord wrapped around his neck, and an arm positioned around his neck as he made his entrance. When I was finally done birthing, I pulled myself up, saw he was a boy, and collapsed, still holding onto the fear that perhaps he hadn’t made it.

I felt that fragility about his life for many days and weeks and months after he was born, and it sucked. Of course, as a mama, I want to have faith in my kids and their journeys and this world I’ve helped bring them into. I want to trust in their strong bodies and their resilience. But sometimes that’s just hard to do. And because of my miscarriage, that was REALLY hard for me to do for a long time.

Today, our little man is running around the house, happy and crazy and loving and so very loved. He is very strong and healthy and loves to show us how fast he is. I’m still a mama who worries, probably more than most. But, that panicked feeling I used to carry as an undercurrent has finally subsided. And that is truly a blessing in and of itself.

One of the trickiest things I remember when I first got pregnant five months after the miscarriage was how to announce the news to my family. It felt so much more weighty than a typical announcement, and so this is the letter I wrote:

I’ve learned so much this year. What outwardly might sound like such a heart-breaking thing – a miscarriage – has actually left me with deep gratitude and so many opportunities for growth.

~I’ve learned our sweet spring baby signed on for a most courageous journey that helped and continues to help shape our lives.

~I’ve learned you can love a soul with all your being, even though you’ve never met.

~Despite some of my hesitations about Western medicine or hospitals, I’ve learned that the doctors, nurses, and staff I saw in June were Angels doing God’s work with skill, kindness, and compassion.

~And despite my extreme squeamishness about blood and needles, I’ve learned that whenever and wherever I can, I will be donating blood. I will always remember the feeling of most profound gratitude as I watched someone else’s blood enter my body and save my life.

~I’ve learned that many, many women and families have their own sad stories. Friends and acquaintances came out of the woodworks sharing their miscarriage experiences with me. There is no “safe zone” in pregnancy or in life. All you can do is breathe, love, have faith, and be present.

~Even though I used to skirt around other people’s tough topics, I’ve learned that many people really do want to talk about stuff. That’s all I’ve wanted to do. When other people are brave enough to ask how I am doing with everything, they don’t make me sad. They invite me to talk. To process. To heal.

~I’ve learned that once a woman reaches age 35, she will likely be bombarded with frightening medical stats and exhaustive risk lists if she so much as thinks the word, “pregnancy.”

~I’ve learned just how incredible our friends and families are. In a situation where other women may have regretted sharing their baby news early on, I was so grateful we had. The outpouring of love and support helped more than I can say.

~I’ve learned that (our daughter) is even stronger than the tough little cookie I had already known her to be. She stayed up all night in the ER this June with zero fussing or meltdowns, watching her mama during some very intense moments. She came through everything with an effortless and deep understanding of what our baby’s soul had signed on for. This very proud and loving Big Sister kissed my belly for months and months after the miscarriage to send the kisses to Baby in Heaven.

~I’ve learned that (my husband) is more supportive than I ever thought possible. He radiated calm and reassurance when I needed it, despite the panic he later admitted to feeling. He’s literally been a shoulder to cry on—loud, deep sobs I never knew existed. And all the while he’s here, listening, loving, and supporting what I need to work through, while processing his own stuff as well.

~I’ve learned that even though Baby was only here 10 1/2 weeks, Baby will be in our hearts forever. There’s no forgetting, no replacing.

~For many months, I viewed my experience as an example of powerlessness and weakness. I’ve learned now to start viewing it as quite the opposite. To suddenly lose our baby’s life and come so close to losing my own. To physically experience what I did and come through it. To take such an experience and look right at it and feel the sadness and loss and fear, instead of ignoring them…These are all examples of my body and soul’s strengths.

~I’ve learned that in the place I was fractured, my soul is growing back stronger.

I write all this so you know where I’m coming from…still processing, still healing, still a messy, wonderful, crazy mix of emotions and thoughts—sadness, relief, anxiety, gratitude, fear, confusion, comfort, faith, insecurity, hopefulness…

But the only one that really matters right now, the only one I can let win out right now is love. Love for so many things. Love for so many people, friends, and family. Love for (my husband) and (our daughter) and myself. Love for our sweet spring baby who will always be in our hearts…

…and Love for our new baby growing in my tummy now!

Will you join us in loving this new baby?

-estimated arrival July/August-

When I had my miscarriage, I scoured the Internet for articles and information. I wanted to read other people’s experiences and not feel so alone.

When I got pregnant after miscarriage, I did the same, but found surprisingly little. I wanted to post this for my past self and for anyone who might be helped by it, even a little bit. Sending out so much love.