Run that ye may Obtain

What a beautiful morning!  Crisp air, birds chirping, billions of earthworms splayed out all over the sidewalks. Vibrant green baby grasses stretching their leafy arms, lining the edges of a wet dark muddy trail.  Oh, how I love springtime rain.  Traveling to school this morning, Abe rode his bike and Bre chose to run with me.  I couldn’t help but smile as she gingerly pranced back and forth down the sidewalk letting out Bre-squeals every time she thought she stepped on a worm.  As we arrived and Abe locked up his bike, glancing down at the ground he exclaimed, “EWWW GROSS!” and I chuckled at my children’s aversion to our slimy Oligochaeta friends. Are those MY children?  I certainly had no aversion to worms when I was their age.  On rainy days such as these back in the late 1980′s, I could be found collecting worms in mason jars and building castles for them on our strawberry hill. Sadly, today I didn’t build castles for them.  In fact, today I need to ask forgiveness from Queen Oligochaeta for ruthlessly murdering many of her little ones.  No doubt, if I had a worm-guts-inspecting microscope I would find on the tread of my running shoes intestinal smudge of no fewer than 24 innocent worms. Many apologies, Mrs. Queen.

At least I got a nice run in!  I think it was close to 4 miles.  Not sure because I no longer wear a GPS running watch ever since I stopped caring about distance and my watch also decided to stop caring too.  The last time I wore that watch was on Thanksgiving Day when it said I ran 14 miles in 59 minutes.  Yeah, not so much.  It was probably closer to 7.  And it felt great!  Today’s run felt pretty good too.  Better than I have felt in weeks, actually.  In fact, it was the first run in weeks when I haven’t had to stop and walk for part of the run or haven’t had that MUST LAY DOWN feeling when I returned home.  Anemia will do that to you sometimes.  This is my third bout with anemia and its probably the most severe.  I don’t remember ever feeling this light-headed and dizzy throughout the day, although as I said in yesterday’s post, I do believe there are many more culprits causing my symptoms besides just low iron.

After I made that “woe is me” post yesterday I started feeling a little sheepish. Its a little intimidating to be that open about personal emotions in such a public place.  But this morning on my run I was glad I did it.  I feel grateful that I’m finally to a point where I can get things out “on paper” so to speak.  I wondered though, if I should do a quick recap of the past couple of years, since I’ve been pretty quiet on my blog for quite some time.  I’ll try to give a “Cliff’s Notes” recap.

April 2011-Limped my way to the finish line of the Boston Marathon and continued to limp and have hip/quad pain for the next 6 months.

August 2011-Hip Labral Repair Surgery with Dr. Philippon.

October 2011-Realized there was no way I was going to heal from surgery quickly enough to train for and run the Olympic Trials Marathon in January.

November 2011-Found out we were expecting #4!

December 2011 through April 2012-Severe Morning sickness a.k.a. Hyperemesis gravidarum.  I was puking 5X/day many days. Zofran helped a bit but then I had major drug headaches instead. Exercise? Forget about it. Being a fun Mom? Not usually. Cooking? Mostly left to Aaron. Why do people call it “praying to the porcelain goddess” when it is actually more like “groveling at the foot of the porcelain pit?”

July 28, 2012-Kelsie arrived in her own beautiful, frightening way (surprise breech home birth).

August 2012-The eye of the storm. Amazing month of fun and celebration, including Awesome Abe’s Baptism and visits from both sets of parents. Symptoms of Aaron’s ulcerative colitis were coming on quite quickly though and we started to clean up his diet call Doctors and a nutritionist for help.

September and October 2012-Aaron was ravaged by disease.  Pain-stricken, bed-ridden, unable to work or be present as a father, he lost 50 lbs in two months and was hospitalized for a week with no real improvement.  We tried every diet under the sun indicated for Ulcerative Colitis, nothing helped.  He took high doses of steroids and anti-inflammatories which didn’t help either. We cried a lot, prayed a lot, and received a TON of help from family, friends, and neighbors.

October 27, 2012-Aaron’s colon perforated on what will be remembered as the scariest day of our lives. Whisked away in an ambulance at 3 a.m., Aaron was becoming septic quickly. After a very stressful 8 hours of testing and examination amid extreme pain, the Dr. finally found the perforation in a CT scan and Aaron was rushed to the operating room for an emergency colectomy.

November, 2012-Aaron continued to lose weight after surgery, had a stomach pump in for nearly a week, got down below 130 lbs until we finally demanded that he be put on IV nutrition. His body was still not digesting properly even with the dead colon removed. I was driving to the hospital every day, sometimes twice a day to see him, praying we’d see improvement soon. Meanwhile, back at home our oldest, Abe was experiencing severe depression and anxiety as well as major manic episodes that I probably wasn’t dealing with properly. I eventually pulled him out of school for 6 weeks in an attempt to reduce his stress and anxiety.  In mid-November the Dr. sent Aaron home from the hospital but that night tortured him with cramping and vomiting complete with him passing out, me calling 911, and sending him back to the hospital as the kids kissed him goodbye from his place on the stretcher. Finally, the week before Thanksgiving Aaron came home to stay. He stayed on IV nutrition and saline for calories and hydration at night and slept in a hospital bed to enable him to stay more upright for a few weeks. Adjustment to the ostomy bag was interesting and challenging. While he was finally no longer losing weight, Aaron’s digestion was still not right and his stomach often cramped after eating. Aaron’s family came to visit for Thanksgiving and entertained our kids all week! My sister and brother-in-law took Abe home with them to Utah for 10 days to give us a breather. On Black Friday, we went to see brilliant Natropath, Doctor Lundell who did blood tests, fecal tests, and muscle testing. Dr. Lundell prescribed the removal of all gluten, dairy, fruit, any form of sugar, oats, tomatoes, corn, potatoes, peppers, eggplant, black pepper, and probably a few more things I am forgetting. Whats left, you ask? Most organic vegetables, grass-fed meats, organic chicken, eggs, nuts, seeds, coconut oil and milk, long-grain rice, quinoa, millet, and buckwheat.

December, 2012-Diet shift. We threw out 99% of the items in our pantry and started over with gluten-free, sugar-free, dairy-free whole foods. Aaron took charge of the cooking and grocery shopping at first and guided me as I explored how to cook within the parameters of his new diet. It took me longer to adjust to the new diet than it did Aaron, but I got there. Christmas Break 2012 was perfect. Mom came to visit again and we had a lot of chances to reconnect as a family and heal from the trauma. Aaron’s strength was coming back quickly. As Aaron returned as a healthy, stable father in our home, Abe started healing too.  Abe and I had been going to psychotherapy every week for a while, which was helping and we also removed sugar from our home, so blood sugar and moods were more constant.

January, 2013-On New Year’s Day Aaron and I did a hike/run to the top of Green Mt. together (12 miles round trip with 2,000ft of climbing).  It was nice to be alone together in the wilderness and realize how blessed we were to have Aaron’s health coming back so quickly. Abe returned to school in the new semester and changed into the other 3rd grade class so he could have a fresh start.

February and March 2013-Everyone in the family had bouts of stomach flu and/or upper respiratory infection. Kelsie kept getting sick and had a 10 day stretch of high fever and lethargy that caused some concern. I started to feel extremely exhausted all the time, dizzy, had a couple episodes of what I can only describe as anxiety attacks and started to struggle with mild depression. Finally got my blood tested and boosted my Iron and Vit. D intake. I dislocated my shoulder twice in one week the last week of March which was painful and unpredictable, but its healing now.

As I stop to write it all down, its clear to see that there have been an unusual high number of life storms in our family over the past couple of years. But everyone has storms. And every storm cloud has a silver lining, right? Sometimes I need a little help finding that silver lining. Sometimes I simply need to sit still and look closely. With binoculars. And then I can see that even amid the storms, there were SO many times I felt at complete peace.  SO many times I felt God’s love and watchful care.  SO many tender mercies when other people showed up to help just when I needed it most.  My friends, family, and neighbors were God’s hands. God never left me alone. And there were times when I would be nursing Kelsie in her room with the door closed and savoring the miracle of her life. Feeling in awe of her innocence, peace, and happy spirit. Kelsie was not engulfed in struggle and challenge, she slept, ate, and played with her siblings all day. She was cared for and safe.  And that made me feel safe too.

I can’t really explain everything I’ve learned and how I’ve grown through our trials but I’m pretty sure knowledge and understand will come over the years ahead. One obvious benefit is that our diet is much more whole food, GMO-free, and clean than it ever was before. Our appreciation for health is much greater. It was truly miraculous how quickly Aaron started gaining weight and healing after he started eating better.  I believe his healing was also a direct result of  all the hundreds of loved ones praying and fasting for him.

Its now April and everything is feeling new and fresh in the world. Aaron is strong, working a lot and running every day.  Abe is doing well in school and back to his normal happy self.  The girls are healthy and happy.  Its been 6 days since my Iron IV and I’m already starting to feel my energy levels rising. Amazing things are happening all around.  This afternoon I was nursing Kelsie alone in her room and overheard the funniest conversation where my 4.5 year old, Ali was explaining to her friend, “Soon, my Dad is going to get a surgery so we wont be able to see his small intestine poking out into is ostomy bag anymore.”  Her friend gently affirmed and happily agreed (as if she had any clue what in the world Ali was talking about!)

Here’s to seeing the silver lining!

On the phone with my Mom yesterday, she told me about this Doctor she went to who claimed to be able to help people heal from physical pain by helping them identify strong emotions they are holding onto and releasing them.  She has been experiencing debilitating hip pain which is now keeping her up at night and causing her to limp, so she’s been searching for help from different types of Doctors.  For a mere $97 this particular Doctor provided  a 30 minute session where through muscle testing and a series of questions he concluded that the cause of her pain and the emotional baggage she needed to let go of was from some financial grudge or injury she had experienced at age 25.  If she simply “let go” of that emotional pain, she would heal.  As I listened to my Mom search her memory of where she was and what happened at age 25 and wondering how she was supposed to “let go” of something she hadn’t thought about in nearly 40 years it got me thinking.  Is there causation effect? Does emotional pain directly result in physical pain?  What emotional baggage am I carrying around and which physical symptoms are a direct result of that emotional baggage?  Most importantly, how do we let go of emotional baggage?  No seriously, tell me.  How do YOU personally release emotional baggage?

Kelsie and I went to visit our midwife a few days ago for our one month postpartum and well baby check-up.  Kelsie is weighing in at 10 lbs 2 oz, a pound and a half gain since birth!  We keep checking her hips to make sure she doesn’t have hip displasia, something to watch for in babies who were born breech.  Thankfully, Kelsie’s hips appear to be fine.  After asking me about the usual postpartum Mom and baby stuff my midwife asked me if I had journaled about Kelsie’s birth and if my memory of it was still feeling as intense as it was right after.  I told her I had written the story down a few days afterwards but that now a month later, it was already starting to fade in my memory.  She asked if I still thought it was the toughest and most intense birthing out of all four of my children and I re-affirmed, it absolutely was.  While she was looking at her notes I asked her how long I actually pushed for because WOW that was the longest segment of time in my life.  It felt like at least an hour of intense body wrenching and mind numbing pain.  But no, not even close.  ”Twenty-one minutes,” she said.  Just twenty-one minutes.

For the whole last trimester I visualized a perfectly smooth, relatively short labor.  Having done this three times before I knew that each birth brought its own unique challenges and I hoped that those challenges would be easier to tackle this fourth time around.  I hoped my body would have some muscle memory and be able to complete the task a little faster than usual.  I visualized a birth consisting of all of my favorite things from Abe, Breanne, and Ali’s births.

Abe was born in the hospital 12 hours after my water broke, not without some sweat and tears.  My nurse-midwife accidentally started the IV of penicillin (required since I was a carrier of group B strep) without any saline to dilute it and it felt like my arm was on fire for a few minutes until Aaron helped her figure out her mistake.  Then, after checking me for dilation and recording 5 cm for two hours in a row my nurse-midwife told me I was not progressing quickly enough and she was required by “hospital protocol” to give me pitocin and help keep things moving along.  Is the “hospital protocol” to administer pitocin after just two hours at the same dilation really in place for the safety of the mother and baby, or is it to increase delivery room turnover rates, thus increasing hospital profitability?  A conversation for another blog….anyway, the pitocin undoubtedly picked things up and a few hours later I was ready to push.  I pushed for 90 minutes and Abe came out cone-headed, but happy. I didn’t tear much, was up walking around within the hour after birth, and went home the next day.  Yes, there were some less than ideal events imposed by “hospital protocol” but in the end it was a pretty great first birth.  I mean, I walked out the door the next day with a healthy, 8 lb 10 oz boy, what else could I ask for?

My second birth experience was an improvement from the first.  I opted for a homebirth and found a great midwife to support me.  We avoided the 20 week ultrasound where they scare you with, “Your baby may have this condition or that complication, but we wont know unless we do further testing,” we didn’t test for group B strep either which meant I had no IV burning up my arm during labor, my midwife checked the baby’s heart rate intermittently throughout labor and I didn’t have to have big strap around my bellie for constant monitoring, also no pressure to perform, rules about how quickly I had to dilate, or threat of pitocin.  Just Aaron, our midwives, and me enjoying the freedom of “Kennard home protocol.”  Labor moved along quickly and smoothly, just 5 hours from start to finish and only a few minutes of push time.  Abe, who was 20 months old at the time slept through the whole thing while we labored just down the hall in the master bedroom.   He even slept through my very LOUD pushing at the end and didn’t wake up until two hours later, when we came to our bedroom to find a new baby sister.  Beautiful.

Ali’s birth was similar to Breanne’s.  Same primary midwife, same bedroom, same peace and freedom.  Labor came on slowly throughout the day and it was really only a few hours of hard work near the end.  The midwives left Aaron and I alone in our bedroom for most of the time so we could labor alone together.  The kids were playing at our friend’s house and were brought back home to meet their new baby sister just minutes after she was born.  Three times within four years I was blessed with healthy, happy, peaceful birthing, and I thanked God many times.

My “perfect ideal” for this fourth birth would have been to go into labor after we tucked the kids into bed and then have the baby before they woke up.  No complications, no stress–just a seamless addition of a new family member.  Was I asking too much?  Maybe.  But I certainly wouldn’t get it unless I asked for it, right?  And I certainly wouln’t have a super amazing perfect experience unless I visualized it.  So visualize, I did.

I strongly believe in the power of our minds. “Whatever the mind can conceive and believe, it can achieve.”   “What you think about most of the time is what you’ll get.”  Things like that.  So I saw a perfect healthy baby and a quick, pleasant birth. I believed it would happen and things were lining up for it to happen.  At my final prenatal visit, my midwife felt the baby’s position and was quite sure baby was head down and ready to rock and roll.  I had already started feeling some “pre-labor” symptoms that I recognized from before so I told my midwife I thought the birth would be that week.  At no point in my mental preparation or in the prenatal visits did we foresee a surprise breech detour but I do believe that God sends us on detours in life maybe so we can experience something new or empowering, or learn something profound.  Maybe just so that we can learn to adapt.  Most certainly so that we can grow.

Twenty-one minutes.  Twenty-one minutes is probably about how long it took me to run my first 5K back in high school.  Ready, set, GO!  La-di-da…up this hill, down that one…oh there’s the finish line, I think I’ll sprint now…and its over.  I’m a little tired but oh, that was fun.  This twenty-one minutes, the final twenty-one minutes before I met my fourth child was much much different.  Exciting, yes but not super fun and definitely not easy.

My water had broken 12 hours earlier and labor slowly progressed all night.  For the first time in months, Abe woke up in the middle of the night and came upstairs to find me leaning at the kitchen table moaning through a contraction.  He quietly observed me for a few minutes and I told him he was going to meet his new sibling that day.  He was happy and wanted to be nearby so he rested on the couch for an hour or so until Aaron put him back to sleep in our bed, promising we’d wake him up when the baby came.  Morning came and all three kids were awake and excited that I was in labor.  Our friend, Michelle came to pick them up and we told them we’d call them as soon as there was any news.  The next few hours passed by without much event.  Some tears and complaining provided by me (after all, I wasn’t getting that quick labor I had envisioned.)  A lot of positive affirmations and lower back counter pressure so thoughtfully provided by Aaron.  I was pretty tired from being up all night, but birthing doesn’t provide much opportunity for rest.  Birthing provides opportunity for work.  And let me tell you, that final twenty-one minutes was work.

After being told my baby was in the frank breech position and wondering HOW IN THE WORLD AM I GOING TO PUSH THE HEAD OUT LAST!?  There was a minute in there where I found myself “hitting the wall” in absolute desperation, sobbing and screaming “I need to go to the hospital!  Lets go to the hospital!  They’ll get this baby out now!”  at which point one midwife shoved a spoonfull of honey in my mouth and the other midwife calmly explained, “Nan, you are fully dilated and this baby is COMING.  Trust me, it is much safer to deliver a breech baby right here at home than it would be in the car on the way to the hospital.”  She was right.  At that point it was illogical to attempt getting in the car and driving to the hospital; time didn’t allow us the option.  Besides, my midwife knew what to do.  She had caught no less than seven surprise breech babies before mine and everything was fine.  As those thoughts went through my mind and the energy from the honey infused into my muscles and brain, my logic returned, I got my “second wind,” stopped complaining, put my head down, and got to work.  I visualized myself laying on the bed with a healthy, alert baby on my chest. I knew I’d be in that spot soon.

For the record, pushing out a breech baby was much different than pushing out a vertex baby.  It felt like two steps forward, one step back with each push.  Or like I was in the final mile of a marathon where the race official announced “Attention Nan Kennard!  YOU get to run an extra loop today!  Please turn here, this will be your route to the finish line.”  While that slippery little bum ever so slightly inched its way out I knew the finish line was near, just not exactly HOW near or what kind of finishing kick I would have to lay down in order to reach it.  Thankfully I had Aaron and two awesome midwifes patiently urging me onward.  Wow, I could not have done that without them.  In fact, I think my support team was even more than just Aaron and the midwives.  There were moments when I felt strength beyond myself.  Strength from God.

When Kelsie’s legs popped out it felt like a catapult sling-shot right below me.  The midwives quickly helped me turn from my position on my hands and knees to an upright position sitting on the birthing stool. As her body came out, Kelsie’s arms had stretched up around her head so my midwife had to reach in and pull the arms and shoulders out one at a time.  In case you’re wondering, yes that hurts.  Once the arms were out, one midwife began fisting me in the abdomen with all her might to put pressure on the top of Kelsie’s head while the other midwife gently pulled on Kelsies chin to pull her head down into a more favorable position.  They both told me to push like I’d never pushed before and what felt like minutes but must have only been seconds later, Kelsie was there!  It was just 90 seconds between when her bum came to when her head came. The goal with breech birth is to get the head out no more than 5 minutes after the first part of the body.  If it goes beyond that 5 minute window and the head has still not been birthed, the baby may have trauma.  Kelsie only took 90 seconds, thank goodness!

They put her on my chest and I rubbed her body to stimulate her to breathe.  Even though she had not opened her eyes or taken her first breath I could feel that she was there. Life was in her.  Her heart was beating and she was still getting oxygen from the umbilical cord, but still no breath.  Moments later the midwives had her on the floor pumping air into her lungs while Aaron and I pleaded with God and Kelsie to please breathe! It couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds but felt like an eternity before she took that first good breath and let out a heart-warming wail.  That first cry was the most welcome baby cry I had ever heard.  She let out a few more little wimpers and opened her eyes big and bright, then she was placed back on my chest and we just stared at each other for a good five minutes.  So happy to finally meet each other.

Ahhhhh…..it was finally over.  That was the most I had ever yearned for a finish line in my entire life.  And what a perfect finish line it was.  An 8lb 9 oz, 21 inch long, 15 inch head amazing little baby girl.  Apparently a 15 inch head circumference is off the charts, above 100th percentile, whatever that means.  Miracle, is what it means to me. We witnessed a miracle to see the biggest part of her body come out last, just 90 seconds after of the rest of her body.  Because it could have turned out a lot differently. I’m grateful for two brilliant midwives who knew exactly what to do.  I’m grateful that midwives are still trained in breech delivery in a day and age when Doctors are no longer taught that art.  Doctors are taught to attempt to turn breech babies and if they cant turn them, cut the woman open.  I’m grateful that the midwives, Aaron, Kelsie, and I were all no doubt watched over and assisted by guardian angels.  Grateful that what could have been a complicated, risky detour turned out safe, healthy, and happy.  Had we decided to jump in the car and go to the hospital in that moment when I was frantically yearning to, we could have had a much scarier scenario.  We may have been resuscitating Kelsie on the floor of the car or on the hospital lobby floor.  Or maybe we would have made it in time and I most certainly would have been rushed directly to the OR for a Cecarian moments before I could have pushed her out anyway.  So yes, I’m grateful things went the way they did.

Now five weeks later, I look at Kelsie with amazement.  Her entrance into this world was quite an exciting adventure and I’m sure she’ll continue her life as such.  Abe, Breanne, and Ali absolutely adore her and can’t stop touching, kissing, and holding her.  We have what feels like a BIG family now with four awesome kids.  Yes, its busy and crazy and hectic at times but also fun and loving and abundant.  I wouldn’t want it any other way.  Life is truly amazing.

I felt excited and happy while talking to Aaron today after he ran the Boston Marathon in 2:59:42 through 87 degree heat.  Go Aaron!  As we talked, Aaron reminded me what a memorable weekend we had there together last year when I ran the most “character building” race of my life.  Most vivid in my memory is when Aaron gave me a piggy back ride back to our hotel after dinner with friends because my legs were no longer functioning.  My emotions were close to the surface and he talked me through it and wiped my tears as we made sense of the day.  There were moments after that race when I wished I hadn’t even gotten on the starting line or wished I had dropped out when my injury started screaming.   The extreme pain of finishing the race and months of aftermath were a pretty high price to pay, but sometimes the most valuable and life changing insights come at the highest price.  I can honestly say now that I am really grateful for that experience.  I realized some valuable insights about myself that day.  Insights about my depth and strength that I never would have known had I not finished that race.  Insights that have been pooled in a reservoir for future use.

One year later I am in a different phase of life physically and mentally as I prepare for the birth of my fourth child.  I am not following the running circuit or running miles upon miles every day like I was a year ago.  Pushing my 3 year old in the stroller while we walk around the surrounding neighborhoods or carrying 15 bags of groceries into the house or a hiking with my family are sufficiently satisfying my exercise cravings.  Beyond taking care of my kids and the home, I sleep, read, meditate, and take it pretty easy most of the time as my belly grows and the baby’s health is the focus of my attention.  I find myself talking to friends about pregnancy and birthing more often and rarely even thinking about running other than the occasional share of excitement with Aaron in his training for Boston.  Its a very different lifestyle than the competitive running life I maintained a year ago.  Yes, sometimes I miss my fit body and fine-tuned heart and lungs or the rush of racing and connecting with other runners, but I also savor the season of life I am in.  I respect and appreciate the miracle of pregnancy and childbirth.  My other three pregnancies similarly consumed my energy and thought, urging me to put running on the back burner.  In the past as I gave pregnancy the attention it sought, I felt very prepared and present for three uniquely enlightening, empowering, and rewarding births.  Pregnancies and births which also pooled into my reservoir of experiences.

Today, as I nostalgically recall my running and birthing past and look forward to the future I can’t help but feel grateful for the  huge reservoir of mental strength, confidence, faith, and power that I’ve pooled over the years. This reservoir of life experiences is my source of courage to approach my fourth birthing with a new level of peace and optimism knowing that whatever happens, its going to be life changing and and most assuredly EPIC.

Having made the decision way back in October not to risk injury by pushing my post-op hip into training for and running the Olympic Trials Marathon in January, the new idea on my mind was to try for another baby.  Over the past year I’ve been having this feeling that our family isn’t quite complete, like there is another soul out there waiting to come in.  Well, apparently he or she was READY and it was meant to be because it didn’t take long for the thought of, “yeah, lets try for another one” to transpire into “woah, I’m pregnant!”  And “Woah” it was.  This being my fourth time around, you’d think I’d handle it like a pro and it would be no big hiccup, but this time has been different.  I had morning sickness with my first child, puking a few times a week throughout pregnancy and feeling pretty sick all the time.  Pretty common experience for pregnancy, annoying but manageable.  The second and third children came along much easier with only mild sickness and a few puke sessions.  This pregnancy has been a whole different story.  Even before I took a pregnancy test I was turning up my nose at certain foods and gagging at the smell of Aaron’s post-run body odor.  Aaron claimed I didn’t even need to take the test because he could tell by my heightened senses that I was preggers.  And it only got more intense from there.  A week later I was having all sorts of food aversions and puking 1-3 times a day.  Over the next week  I couldn’t drink water, only lemonade, soda, and vitamin water and I was tossing it back up 3-5 times a day.

I normally like to take a conservative, holistic approach to managing illness, so I was all about the peppermint oil, ginger tea, lemon drops, small frequent meals, acupressure wrist bands ect.  My midwife recently moved to the Copper Canyons in Mexico to train indigenous midwives among the Tarahumara (the same group of native indians in the book “Born to Run”), so I emailed her to ask for a referral of another midwife in the Boulder area.  She gave me the name of another midwife and I went to visit her and get some more ideas on how to manage the sickness.  She told me some more natural remedies and I tried most of them but nothing helped.  Over Christmas weekend things got even worse to where I was pretty much laying in bed all day (Aaron has been “Super Dad” lately)!  I hadn’t held down anything for longer than two hours and was shivering while feeling dehydrated and very weak.  I had lost a couple of pounds in the past week and was feeling SO hungry but couldn’t seem to get more than a few bites in at a time.  Tuesday morning I called my regular O.B. in tears.  She got me right in that afternoon and did a quick ultrasound to make sure it wasn’t a molar pregnancy or twins (which it wasn’t).  Just seeing the little fetus with blood pumping right through his/her heart made me smile and feel comforted about this frustrating sickness.  My O.B. said I had  Hyperemesis Gravidarum, a severe form of morning sickness and she prescribed some meds right away.  Its now Thursday and I am starting to feel a bit better.  I puked only three times yesterday and held down a lot more liquid.  I’ve slept better and no longer have the chills.  I am hoping things continue to improve and I can start to get my energy back.  I still feel pretty sick but its definitely an improvement from where I was on Sunday.

We announced our pregnancy to the kids on Christmas morning and Abe said, “Oh I just thought you were sick!  I didn’t know you were in labor or something?”  Haha, it was a good opportunity to teach them about pregnancy and labor.  Breanne and Ali were super excited and curious and ever since Sunday have been putting their hand on my bellie saying, “Baby” in the sweetest most tender way.  We invited them to join us for the 20 week ultrasound in March which also happens to be Breanne’s 6th birthday!  Right now I’m just about 9 weeks along and hoping that the morning sickness subsides a bit in a few weeks.  The baby is due August 3rd, but based on the fact that all three of my kids have  been 9-16 days early, we may get another July baby (Abe and Ali are July 15th and July 11th).

As I face the challenge of enduring the morning sickness and staying positive, I realize its all preparation and training for the additional challenges ahead, not just in pregnancy and birthing but also in raising another child throughout his or her life!  When we face difficult things in life it helps to remember that God is mindful of us and is standing by.  He will not give us more than we can bear and will not leave us comfortless.

As my body has been healing from hip surgery I’m realizing just how closely our mental health is tied to our physical health.  Right after surgery I had a lot of hope and optimism about life and was looking forward to recovering and getting back to full strength again.  But as the days wore on and I endured the disability and weakness induced by surgery, I started to feel discouraged and depressed.  I often reviewed the chain of events that led to me needing hip labral repair (over-training, muscle weakness and imbalance, lack of patience or intuition in my training to name a few).  I became angry with myself for inducing the injury.  I realized that I made the mistake of following a training plan perfectly but not listening to my body enough to intercept the injury before it got severe.  Then I started to feel scared to get back into running again and wondered if I could regain the drive push my body close to its limit again or if I’d rather just take it easy and avoid pushing my body for fear of injuring myself again.  I hated to think of the future troughs in the roller coaster of life that are sure to exist as I keep striving to climb up the hills.  I felt depressed and overwhelmed by my physical imperfections and uncertain that my body is durable enough to be a professional marathon runner.  Just as my hip and leg was weak and injured, my mental outlook was skewed and dysfunctional as well. Then I realized something.  Not only do I need to be patient and persistent in my efforts to heal my hip but I also need to address what my mind is going through and recognize that I have some mental healing to do as well.  I need to be patient with my mind and allow myself to acknowledge those fears and doubts so I can identify their source and learn from them.  I kept hoping that at any moment I would snap out of the mental funk I’ve been in but its not so much of a “snap” as it is a slow, persistent process of buffing out the scars and false beliefs in my mind.  Just as I have to do physical therapy every day on my hip to regain the muscle and normal range of motion and strength, I also need to exercise my mind in positive thinking and affirmations to regain normal function and mental power.
Our minds are just as susceptible to injury as our bodies but too often these mental injuries are overlooked or suppressed.  Over the past couple of months since surgery many of my friends and acquaintances ask me how my hip is doing and they often assume that I am doing great since I am no longer in crutches or limping noticeably.  I usually just report on the positive improvements in my hip but lately have decided to also take note of the healing that is going on in my mind too.  I am regaining my optimism and hope.  I am affirming my faith and mental power.  I can now acknowledge that the lesson’s I’ve learned about training, rest and recovery, and listening to my body may actually be the tools I need to not only get back to where I was with my fitness and racing, but surpass my previous marks.  I realize that I still have a long road before me but I am committed to patience in the journey and faith in the destination.   I’m gradually extinguising my pessimism and replacing it with optimism.  As I am healing physically I am now able to run 30 minutes a day plus cross-training, and I can now see light at the end of the tunnel and future racing ahead!
I believe that in every difficulty or failure there is a seed for an equal and opposite success.  I hope I can learn everything God intends me to learn from this challenge and turn it into fuel for future growth and progress. I choose to be an optimist.
“A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.”  -Winston Churchill
“The only disability in life is a bad attitude.”  ~Scott Hamilton

On Sunday afternoon I spoke to my Grandma Morgan for the last time.  Mom held the phone to her ear as I told her how much I love her and what a positive influence she has been on my life.  I told her to give Grandpa Morgan a big hug for me when she got to the other side.  Thirty minutes later, Grandma passed away.  She was 88 years old.  My Grandpa Morgan preceded Grandma in death by nearly 30 years. I can’t even begin to count the hundreds of times throughout the years Grandma has expressed her loneliness and desire to see Bob again.  When my brother, David called to tell me Grandma had passed away my eyes swelled with tears as I imagined the joyous reunion between Grandma and Grandpa taking place at that very moment.

I was eleven months old when my Grandfather died and Grandma said I was always so cuddly and willing to hug her as long as she needed while she was mourning his loss.  She became a widow so young, still in her 50s.  All those hugs to Grandma when I was an infant must have bonded me to her because I have always felt a closeness to her.  Grandma was a big part of our lives growing up.  She lived close to us and watched us when Mom was in the hospital, requiring that we all work hard to clean the house before Mom got home.  She also took us out for ice cream on special occasions, helped us can peaches, pears, jam, and applesauce in the Fall, took us on fun outings, supported us in school choir concerts or sporting events, and began feeling like an immediate member of our family.  Grandma more often than not joined in on Sunday dinner gatherings, campfire dinners in Mueller Park canyon, water skiing at Pineview Reservoir,  camping in Yellowstone, and of course visiting Brigham City for “Peach Days” and stopping by to visit Grandpa Morgan’s grave afterwards.  Even after I went to BYU, Grandma came with my parents to the NCAA Championships in Furman, SC to cheer our team on to first place.

NCAA Cross Country Championships, 2001.

Dave, Grandma and I going on the Heber Creeper train through Provo Canyon in, I’m guessing 1992.

Dave returning from his mission 2005.

Holding three-day-old Abe, 2004.

Dad’s Funeral 2007.
Ali’s Blessing, 2008.

Gramdma not only supported us by being there, she was a wise counselor, a friend and listening ear, and someone to laugh with.  She taught us by example how to work hard, save our money, serve selflessly, listen compassionately, follow through with our commitments, laugh, and enjoy life.  She always used to tell me a phrase that she and Grandpa Morgan wholeheartedly believe, “It doesn’t matter how many times you fall down, its how many times you get up and try again that count.”  She exhibited perseverance and faith in everything she did.  She was generous and enjoyed treating people to nice things and fun memories.  I often remember she and Mom bickering about who was to pay the bill for dinner at a restaurant for special occasions and Grandma always won.  Grandma was a joy to have around.  I never once remember being bothered by her or having disagreements with her.  She was easy to love and fun to spend time with.  Without stepping on toes and only when appropriate, she humbly offered sound advice and faith-filled experiences. She and my Dad had a great relationship and Dad said he lucked out to get the best mother-in-law there was.  I suspect she and Dad have had the chance to reunite since Sunday as well.

Grandma lived a full and wonderful life and as much as I know I will miss her, I am grateful that she is relieved from her pain and infirmities and has passed on to the next phase.  I am grateful for her influence in my life and I will do everything I can to tell my children about her and teach them the lessons she taught me.  When Aaron and I went to visit Grandma in July she told us what a blessing my Mom has been to her.  Mom has been Grandma’s greatest help and support through the past many years and especially as she required more help the past year.  She was there for Grandma to help her through the last few months of frustrating memory loss, more and more dependence on others, moving into assisted living, selling her car and home, falling and having to recover from falls, requiring a walker and sometimes a wheelchair, and most importantly, needing a friend to be there and support her through life’s challenges and changes as she closed out the final chapter of her life.  After Grandma fell one last time on Saturday night, Mom stayed with her all night to make sure she was comfortable and safe.  Later on Sunday, Mom, Uncle John, Aunt Carma, and my brother Dave were there with Grandma as she took her last breath and they said it was very peaceful and serene as Grandma was received by loving arms back into the presence of those who have passed on before.  I am looking forward to flying to Utah on Friday to celebrate her life with our family and remember together what a wonderful woman she is and how lucky we are to have been touched by her.  God be with you ’till w meet agin, Grandma!  We love you!

Well, I finally got a firm diagnosis on my hip pain….and surgery 24 hours later!  It happened quickly last week and I’m just now getting around to blogging about the experience. Its been a lethargic (for me) and busy (for Aaron) week since surgery last Tuesday.  Aaron has had to take care of everything since I am not much help on crutches but we have been blessed with meals from friends from Church and my Mom just got into town to help too.

The positive thing is that Aaron and the kids got to enjoy a nice vacation in Vail while I was recovering in bed and going to physical therapy twice a day.  Vail is home base for the Steadman clinic and Dr. Marc Philippon, one of the best hip surgeons in the world.  Why did I need the help of a world renown hip surgeon? Over the past year my left hip has been a constant source of tightness and pain.  Most of the time I managed it quite well with ART, massage, and dry-needling along with hip mobility exercises and cross training but it started to worsen and become overbearing throughout my buildup to running Boston.  I probably shouldn’t have run Boston, but I stubbornly stuck to the plan and experienced the most painful race of my life.  Four months later, unable to run without pain, limping, weakness in my hip,  I was starting to lose hope in ever running pain-free again.   I tried, ART, massage, physical therapy, hip mobility exercises, acupuncture, dry-needling, rolfing, rest, cross training, orthotics, barefoot running…you name it, I tried it and it did not improve my pain.  In the meantime, my ART Dr., Richey Hansen suggested in May that I had all the symptoms of a labral tear, so I got an MRI.  The MRI report specifically said “no labral tear” and the two other doctors who had looked at my MRI were not assertive about a labral tear either, although they both did say that the labrum looked damaged or frayed.  One Doctor suggested that I had cysts in my ovaries and that I was possibly experiencing referred pain.  My Obstretritian quickly debunked that theory through ultrasound and I was left searching for answers.  Right after I got the MRI in June, I sent the images to the Steadman Clinic and was calling Dr. Philippon’s assistant 2-3 times a week in an effort to either set an appointment to see him or have him call me to discuss my MRI.  Continued months of therapy, cross-training, slow painful running, and no improvement was getting old.

Finally on Sunday night, July 31st I asked Aaron if he would give me a Priesthood blessing (a prayer by the laying on of hands through the power of the Priesthood).  He and our friend Adam Hunt administered the blessing and as Aaron spoke, he promised that I would find the right people to help me with my hip and that I would be able to heal and run pain free again.  I felt very peaceful and confident after the blessing and knew things would work out.  The next day, Monday August 1st at around 9 p.m., Dr. Philippon of the Steadman Clinic in Vail finally called.  I was a bit alarmed and surprised to finally hear from him.  During our brief conversation he said he was looking at my MRI and I do in fact have a tear in my labrum along with some bony impingement on my femur and my hip which was hitting into my labrum and causing the trauma.  He said he’d like to see me in his office for a visit the next morning and if I fit the criteria through physical examination he would operate the same evening, so I shouldn’t eat past 6 a.m. since I may be getting surgery that day.  I was kind-of freaking out.  I asked him a few questions but my mind was whirling.  When I got off the phone Aaron and I called a few Doctor friends for their opinions and talked out the options.  I was previously scheduled to receive prolotherapy and possibly PRP on my hip with Dr. Ron Hanson at the Ceneno-Shultz clinic in Broomfield and was hopeful that he could help regenrate my labrum or at least the tendons in and around the hip.  I also had an appointment scheduled with Dr. Leslie Vidal to get her opinion about the MRI and symptoms.  After a lot of talking and more prayer, there was nothing left to do but go to Vail and see what Dr. Philippon had to say to hopefully make a more educated and confident decision.  Luckily we had a friend staying in our basement and she was able to watch the kids all day so Aaron and I could go to Vail for the appointment.

As we arrived at Dr. Philippon’s office it was like walking down a hall of fame with all the professional athlete jerseys and “Thank you’s” hanging on the wall.  Dr. Philippon has repaired the hip labrum of over 1,000 professional athletes and has a 93% success rate with all clients returning back to their previous strength or better.  In our appointment he and his assistants evaluated my hip and did testing, looked at my MRI and X-rays to show me where the tear and bony impingement was, and Dr. Philippon told me I was a great candidate for surgery and he was very confident he could fix the labrum and remove the bony impingement that was the root of the problem.  He was very confident I would be able to get back to full running strength, possibly even still in time for the Olympic Trials in January.  I was pretty stoked to finally hear a Doctor speak so confidently to me and assure me that he knew what the problem was and he could help me.  As he left Aaron and I alone to talk about it, we both felt that all of our concerns were addressed and that surgery was the best option.

I sent Aaron home and told him he might as well get some work done and get back to the kids so that he could come pick me up the following morning after surgery.  My day was filled with paperwork, more paperwork, more hip and muscle testing, explanation of the operation procedure repeated by three different people, blood work, explanation of the recovery, making a bunch of phone calls to cancel all my appointments and plans for the next two weeks, and finally dressing in a hospital gown, marking the left hip, IV placement, PRP blood draw, and waiting. Dr. Philippon had been in surgery with four other clients all day and I was the last one of the day.  I kept wondering when he’d ever get to me as it approached 7…8 p.m.  It was a long day since I hadn’t been allowed to eat since 6 a.m. and I had to stop drinking at 2 p.m.  I was starting to get nervous but trying to stay positive and also feeling grateful that I was settled on a solution and also that I had only been stewing about surgery for one day as opposed to dreading it for months.  Finally the anesthesiologist came into my room at 8:45 p.m. and gave me something to make me feel relaxed.  He was administering the epidural and I was so calm I commented to him how I had never had an epidural before and was surprised at how easy it was.  Soon enough…I was out.

The next thing I remember it was 12:30 a.m. and my stomach hurt.  I was back in my recovery room and could’t really feel my legs.  Dr. Philippon and his assistant came in to tell me the surgery had gone really well and that the repair would help me.  As the epidural wore off, the stomach pain eased off and I slept in short segments throughout the night.  I finally ate the most delicious orange jello of my life around 3 a.m. and slept some more.  All the nurses in the surgery center were very kind and helpful.  A few more hours of falling asleep and waking up as the drugs wore off, I could feel my legs again and ate some oatmeal.  Aaron and the kids arrived just before 9 a.m. and they took me downstairs to physical therapy where I got right to work with the therapist moving my leg around and having me ride the stationary bike for 20 minutes to get the blood moving again.  The rest of the week consisted of twice a day 90 minute physical therapy appointments, sleeping, driving back and forth from the hotel to PT, and watching (sleeping through) movies with the kids.  Aaron took the kids swimming every day and to the park and on bike rides.

Now that I am through the first week post-op my energy is coming back and I feel stronger more optimism about the future of recovery and healing.  I will be on crutches for a total of 18 days and should be able to run within 7-12 weeks.  I am SO grateful to have finally found a solution with a timeline to recovery!  Dr. Philippon did an injection of PRP (platelet-rich plasma) at the end of the surgery and is doing another injection at my 6 week post-op appointment, which will help boost the healing process.  I am busy with physical therapy three times a week and getting the kids ready to go back to school on Monday, luckily Mom is here to help me with everything.  Aaron has been an amazingly supportive, multitasking superhero and our kids have been very patient and helpful too. While I am sad I have had (and will have) to miss out on 6+ months of healthy running and racing, I am looking forward to future running and mostly just grateful to hopefully have my health restored.  Here I am at the end of a physical therapy appointment with my ice pack on….HEAL HIP…HEAL!!

The kids must have had a more riotous party than us on their vacation to Utah because it took them a good four days longer to recover from all the fun!  Finally after a really chill weekend, we are all feeling back on track. Special thanks to our family in Utah who helped with the kids; Mom and Owen, Dawn and Ken, Christina and Dave, and Jenni and Mike.  We REALLY appreciate you taking such great care of the kids and it was especially nice to know they were having a blast with cousins and making great memories.  We packed a lot of sights into our 10 days in France, staying in a new city every night until the final three nights in Paris. Rather than bore you with a long travel-log, I’ll just give the highlights in pictures…

First night in Nyon, Switzerland after a 26 hour day of travel.  The jet lag was quite painful and my legs felt five pounds heavier from retained water, so my run was slow and short.  We stayed with Raeburn’s friends Giselle and Pierre and were treated to kind hospitality and yummy meals!Our run along Lake Geneva.

Ready to ride on Monday morning after renting our bikes in Bourg d’Oissans

After summiting L’alpe d’heuz.

One of my favorite things about France: amazing pastries!!!
Dinner in l’Isle-sur-la-Sourge.

Soaking my legs in the river.

View from our hotel Room in l’Isle-sur-la-Sourge

Lower Mont Ventoux

Matt and Ash 3k from the top of Mont Ventoux

That deliciously expensive candy at the top of Mont Ventoux fueled me the remaining 50K (making it a total of 85K for the day) of scavenger hunt riding to our eventual destination.  Matt described it as “a sordid tale that includes ‘the roads less traveled’, an internet cafe, dad’s loss of faith in the GPS system, and a strawberry round-about.”  My favorite part was watching Aaron and Matt attempt to speak to the locals in Carpentras automatically reverting to their only non-English language, Spanish and not having much luck with that either.  Its a good thing French people understand hand gestures and body language quite well or we’d still be lost in Southern France.Roman aqueduct, Pont du Gard built around the time of Christ.  Cold river below where we bathed after our long day of riding (notice the nice biking shorts tan line).

Ancient fortified city of Carcasonne.  People still live there today and there is a Best Western inside the city too in case you wanted affordable lodging with the protection of two stone walls  and a moat surrounding you.
Main castle in CarcasonneRiding toward L’TormaletOn a beautiful, misty dayMet some cool Spanish motorcyclists and last year’s 5th place Tour de France finisher, Jurgen Van Den Broeck at the summit.

Cute little castle we stayed in.Peaceful pond in the back yard.

The whole crew in front of Château de Chambord built to serve as a hunting lodge for King François I.  A mere 440 rooms, 365 fireplaces, 84 staircases and more than 800 sculpted columns.  Apparently French kings were insistent upon having modest vacation homes.

Hmmmm…where shall we go running today?  Oh, how ’bout the gardens of Versailles?!  Nine miles and we barely scratched the surface.

Aaron running through the corner of Versailles, Hameau de la reine, or “The Queen’s Hamlet” where Marie Antionette went to  pretend to be a peasant…just for fun.Onto our final destination….Paris!Fresh market down the street from our Hotel in Paris.  YUM!
Of course you cant go to Paris without seeing the Mona Lisa.
After our Sunday lunch in Jardin du Luxembourg with (of course) a statue of a naked child in the background.  There must be at least one million naked statues in Paris.Fresh spices for sale in the street market smelled wonderful!

And there you have it; our trip to France in pictures.  It  turned out to be everything I expected, and more!  Thanks, Dad for planning and arranging everything for our exhaustingly fun adventure!!  It was great to spend time with family and learn about the French history while experiencing the beauty.  Good times!

Ever since I moved to Boulder six months ago I’ve enjoyed the pleasure of associating with a lot of like-minded people. Athletes, home-birthers, healthy eaters, recyclers, outdoor enthusiasts, foodies, holistic healers, and other unique people with a lot of character. As I spend time with these people and grow to love and appreciate them for who they are its interesting to me how so many of them know each other. Even in a city of 100,000+ people, word (good and bad) gets around pretty fast.
In the majority of conversations I find myself in there are a lot of complimentary things shared about people I know. I’m not generally a big fan of negative “gossiping” because I like to give people the benefit of the doubt and assume the best of them. When I’m in a group of friends and the topic of discussion gravitates towards the negative character traits of another mutual acquaintance I try to either change the subject or say something nice or at least neutral about that person. I admit, I’m not always perfect at this and sometimes I catch myself listening intently and actually absorbing what I’m hearing.
A few days ago I found myself listening to someone’s opinion of the “crazy” character traits of a friend of mine and I seriously almost laughed out loud at the words I was hearing. This particular friend who was being picked apart is a friend whom I admire and aspire to be like in many ways, so to hear the exact traits I admire being shed in a negative light was somewhat ridiculous to me. I mentioned a few complimentary things about this person and then just let the conversation die. After the conversation ended and I went on with my day I started remembering many other recent conversations with friends where more friends and acquaintances were being critiqued and labeled as crazy and I suddenly had an “ah-ha” moment. If so many of my friends whom I love and admire are crazy, I no doubt must be crazy too!
Just as so many of my friends unique and genuine character traits are labeled as crazy by some others, I’m sure my character and individuality has been labeled as crazy by many others too. But to be completely honest with you, I am stoked, honored, and happy to be crazy. Because you know what? My craziness is what makes me, ME. If I lived in a way that I tip-toed around any unusual behavior and allowed what other people thought about me dictate my actions, I would not be living. If no one ever thought I was crazy it would probably mean that I am not developing individuality and exploring what it is that God gave me to become great. From now on every time I hear someone being labeled as crazy or unusual I’m going to listen carefully and take note because there is a very good chance that person is spectacular. To my other crazy friends and readers out there I say lets keep being crazy! Keep embracing and appreciating your own unique character and realize that it doesn’t matter what others may say about you, its vastly important to BE YOUR CRAZY SELF.
Here’s a genuinely crazy moment for you. We all have days like this: