Kootenai Hospital

Kootenai Hospital holds many memories for me this year. First, I went there in August when I started bleeding while pregnant and was told that my baby looked great and was most likely going to be fine. Second, I went there in September to have a D&C after losing that sweet baby. Third, I went there at the beginning of December to be admitted to the psych unit after fighting through two of the darkest months I’ve ever experienced. And fourth, I went there today to take all the fuzzy socks that everyone donated to that same psych unit.

Going to this hospital brings a rush of emotions and memories now. There’s sadness for the loss we experienced after feeling hope, for the memory of waking up from surgery and being told that I cried out to the nurse, “All I wanted was to hold my baby,” for the rock bottom moment when I knew that I had to be admitted but not knowing if I could ever be okay again. But it’s not all sadness. There’s also the tender, happy, relieving memory of hearing my baby’s heartbeat (the only time I would get to hear a healthy heartbeat before there was barely a heartbeat and then no heartbeat anymore). There was that first memory after waking up from surgery of the nurse wiping away the tears that were falling down my cheeks and rubbing my hand to comfort me, even though she knew I wasn’t fully awake yet when I started crying. There was the beautiful compassion of a friend who gave up a few hours on her busy Saturday to sit with me in the ER, listen to what was on my mind and heart, and cry with me. There was the loving example of one nurse in particular who greeted me with the most beautiful smile when I first got to the psych unit and reassured me that I was going to be okay. When I thanked her later for being so kind, she said, “I just try to imagine what it’s like to be in that position. It must be scary and overwhelming, so I look at everyone like that and make it my job to fill them with love.” There was the hopeful moment when I met with the hormone psychiatrist and realized that it was still possible to find healing, because we simply weren’t on the right treatment plan yet. There was the emotional memory my husband visiting several times during my stay and feeling all of his love and support surround me. And then there was today, the healing, grateful moment when I could take all the sadness and heartbreak that this last year has brought into my life, and with the generosity of so many people, give a gift of comfort, warmth, light, and encouragement. All I wanted was to give 16 pairs of socks, one for each potential patient in that unit on Christmas, and I was able to give 54! I can’t even put into words how much that means to me and how much it has helped my heart find peace.

As I reflect back on my different experiences with this hospital in the last year, it all strengthens my testimony of Jesus Christ. Because of Him, there is no darkness, no pain, no heartache, no grief, and no sorrow that can’t be overcome. Because of Him, there is the chance to rise again when we have fallen, there is someone who understands through experience everything we go through and feel, and there is always hope. This Christmas season has been really emotional for me for lots of reasons, but through the love and kindness of so many people and my testimony of how the birth of Jesus Christ impacts my life, I’m slowly but surely getting back up from the dark place I was in and finding the strength to begin healing.

Uplifting Notes

This morning, I couldn't stop crying. There were so many things on my mind-- how hard this last year has been, how hard it will be to fully heal from the things I've experienced, how confusing it is that we had to lose a baby which has caused a lot of this increased struggle and now have to wait so long to have another, how scary it is wondering if this new treatment plan will work, how hard it is to accept that sometimes our lives just don't go the way we thought they would, etc.-- and it all came out in non-stop tears. I dropped Brooklyn off at school and then drove to the store to make copies of the notes that will go inside the socks for the hospital. I sat in the parking lot for a good 10 minutes trying to pull myself together but with no luck. I finally decided to just get out and go, hoping my eyes weren't too red and my cheeks not too tear-stained.

I went inside and asked for 50 copies of each page on bright colored paper and then waited. While I was standing on the other side of the counter, I saw the woman making the copies reading each of the little notes. After she got done, she turned around and asked what this was for. I told her and watched as her whole body visibly melted and softened. And then she asked if she could make an extra copy, because she knows someone who without a doubt needs these words right now.

I started to cry. I couldn't get out the words, but what I wanted to tell her was that these are all words people have said to me in times when I have needed them most, and I'm simply passing on the love and kindness that others have shown to me. She was touched by hearing who would be receiving these uplifting messages and gave me a discount on the copies.

I walked out of the store with a smile on my face. Without knowing it, this woman lifted a huge burden and reminded me, once again, that there is some good that can come from darkness and pain. She warmed my heart today!

I wanted to share these notes with anyone else who needs them today. You are loved!

The Hospital

This last Saturday, after five days of a depression so severe that I could hardly eat or drink anything, my body and mind were weak. The suicidal thoughts had raged constantly for days, and I had very little strength in fighting to overcome them. I texted one of my biggest supports over the last year who suggested that I go to the hospital to be admitted. I have considered this many times in the last two months as things have been so incredibly difficult but have never gone out of fear.

Three years ago, almost to the day, I was admitted to the hospital in Iowa, and it was a horrifying experience to say the least. I felt much more like a prisoner than a patient and vowed that I would never put myself through that kind of torture again. And yet, here I was, considering the thing that scared me most and knowing my life depended on it.

With hardly enough strength to talk, I called an angel of a friend and asked her if she could take me to the hospital so Kyle could be home with our kids. She dropped everything to come to my aid and stayed with me in the ER holding my hand, comforting me, and telling the nurses the things that were too hard for me to say.

After a few hours and a bag of IV fluids, the admission process was complete, and I was taken to the psych ward. I didn't know what to expect or feel until a kind, loving nurse greeted me. She treated me like a normal person with a big, hard problem, and I knew in that moment that I would be okay.

To make a long story short, I was able to meet with a psychiatrist who specializes in hormones, and she provided me with long-sought and earnestly prayed-for answers. We immediately stopped my previous medications and started a new treatment plan. Now I am waiting to see if this is the solution that can finally bring lasting relief.

Right now, I am cautiously optimistic and hopeful. I have been through a lot of dashed hopes in the last 3 years, so it's hard to feel completely sure about this one yet, but I'm holding onto faith in better days to come. I am also overwhelmed (in a good way) with all the love and support my family has been shown in this difficult time. We are beyond blessed and humbled to see the goodness of people all around us. I'm thankful to be home with my family now. We need each other. This painful road is not over yet, but I know that I'm not alone and will continue to be carried through my darkest days.

Kyle Avery shared this poem with me during one of his visits at the hospital. I could never do hard things without his love, support, encouragement, and strength.

Joy

I read this quote this morning and it really touched my heart. I wanted to share in case it could touch or uplift another heart.

"Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place." ~Rumi

Kyle's Christlike Example

When I think of someone who gives Christlike service, many wonderful people in my life come to mind. But the greatest example of Christlike service I will ever know is my husband. He has supported and loved me as we have weathered the storms of life together. Last week, I had a really really rough evening and cried far into the night as Kyle held me and I told him what was weighing so heavily on my heart and mind. The next morning, I woke up to find little love notes hanging all around our house. I don't know many people who would be so loving, kind, and patient through the hell we've been through in the last year, but Kyle has always been there. He may not understand what I feel, but he is willing to listen and comfort me and will repeat to me as many times as I need to hear it that he loves me and needs me just as I am. He gives me the strength to stay.