Waiting to exhale...

Okay Terry Mcmillan had to come up with the best book title ever. It encompasses not only the story, but also..wow can I understand that sentiment. There's so many points in my life where I feel like I'm hanging by a thread, dangling over a rocky ledge and staring down at a thousand sharp spires. Feeling like either I'm gonna fall and be horribly hurt, or someone's gonna come up behind me, grab a hold of that thin (yet surprisingly strong) thread and pull me to safety.

I'm not old, but I feel like I've been put through the ringer in my life. I'm sure many of you have felt that way...when I was 10 I was molested by a family friend. It was a nightmare. I couldn't sleep for the next three years without experiencing horrible nightmares because of it. Partly because I was 10 and what he did to me ruined my innocence. I knew too much, had seen too much...I was a mess. But Praise God I had wonderful parents who prayed with me, took me to therapists and somewhere along the way I found out just what a strong person I actually am. That strength helped me through the second obstacle in my life. At 26 I was pregnant with my second child. My husband and I were thrilled, only to discover at three months that I'd miscarried weeks before but my body was one of the rare ones that clung to the pregnancy regardless. That was my third miscarriage. The previous one was what they termed a molar pregnancy, fairly rare and requiring surgery to remove all traces of the pregnancy. Because of that experience I did not want another surgery. I was given the option, but I choose to take medication at home to fully terminate. I was supposed to do a follow up, but I was young and dumb and hated doctors and thought I was okay. Four months later, bleeding out almost every day my MIL forced me to go to the doctor. Only to find out I had cancer. Apparently my body clung to that pregnancy so hard that even the pills did not work, what remained turned cancerous (who knew that could even happen). It's called choriocarcinoma and it's basically cancer of the placenta. Again my faith in Christ got me through the worst part, after the chemo I had to do a one month follow up for a year. Once the year was up then I had to go in once a year for the next three years. After that, I was 'cleared' of all cancer and life went on. But again, I was stronger. There were depths being added to my character, my person, that made me realize how precious, how wonderful life is. The doctors told me to have a hysterectomy, I could never have another child again after the chemo anyway. I'd be sterile, or if by some fluke I could get pregnant I'd likely have more miscarriages and the possibility of getting that form of cancer again goes up each time you get pregnant. The nurse, her name was Linda, told me not to. Not to listen. I was too young. That she'd seen other women go on to have successful pregnancies and that doctors were always gonna give you the gloom, but that if she were me, she wouldn't do it. I prayed and decided to go with my gut. I didn't do it.

Fast forward 4 years and I'm pregant again. First miracle. Second miracle. He's healthy. Perfect. Beautiful. I go to every doctor appt and they all just grin and say he's fine, you're fine...yay! I'm stoked, on cloud nine. July 14, 2010 I go into labor naturally. Less than 30 minutes of labor and 4 pushes later, here he is. My beautiful baby boy. He's healthy, he's perfect...we're one hour away from being discharged when the nurses notice his breathing is labored. 4 hours later he's rushed to the NICU, diagnosed with pulmonary hypertension. The blood vessels in his lungs are all sealed shut. Like a straw that's pinched at the tip. Very very little oxygen is working its way to his heart. There's no surgeries to fix it...all they can do is put him on pure oxygen with the hope that his body will eventually kick it on and open those valve's. I pray harder than I've ever prayed in my life...none of what I've gone through can compare to the pain I feel right then. 3 weeks later, he's sent home with a small heart murmur and 2 years later he's bright, active, happy, and totally totally healthy.

I'm that tree, the sapling that's battered and beaten by winds, tsunami's, hurricane's...I'll either be up rooted, or become stronger. Bend less, sway less, and push on. I'm covered in scars, but I'm not broken, I'm stronger...

Perspective.

That's way I know waiting to hear back from agents, or editors, or wondering if I'm a good enough writer to someday be fortunate enough to see my works in print isn't the worse thing that could happen to me. Whether I get published by NY or not..I'm alive today, my son is healthy, my life is good and I'm a happy, happy girl.

Perspective is always a good thing. ;)