Just When I Think I Can’t… I Can!

By Megan
Introduced by Amy

Megan and I met at church....I saw her and her husband sitting with probably the smiliest, most adorable (And the tiniest!) baby girl ever, sporting a bright pink cast. As I got to know Megan better, I was amazed to learn about her smily little girls' journey. Megan's courage and strength as a mom blew me away. How the heck did she stayed so positive with so many set-backs!? She is amazing. I'm so glad she agreed to take the time to share their story with us, even though she has her hands full with a toddler and an infant.  I'm sure you too will be inspired by this momma's courage and by her brave little girl!
-Amy

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Kynsley was born on January 26, 2012 at 4:16 am. She was a tiny, beautiful girl, weighing only 3lbs 5oz and 16 inches long.

Her due date was the first week of March so we were surprised to have her earlier. I went into the doctor only to find out that Kynsley wasn't growing inside and stopped growing 4 weeks prior. They were concerned and did an ultrasound. That's when they found out that she was sitting in only 2 cm of amniotic fluid. The doctor then pulled me aside and told me that he was going to have to do an induction because each day she was in there meant higher risk of her being stillborn. He gave me 2 steroid shots each day before inducing me in hopes that it would help develop her lungs. Kynsley only had to spend 12 days in the NICU before we took her home with us weighing 3lbs 10oz.

One week after taking Kynsley home, we took her in for a well-baby checkup.  We found out that she had Bilateral Congenital Hip Dysplasia. She was in a cute little body harness for 3 months. In May, we went down to Boise (4 hour drive) to go see her orthopedic surgeon to hopefully get some good news that her hips were in place and the harness was successful...Instead we heard the news that we didn't want. The doctor told us that the harness is 90% effective, but it didn't work on Kynsley.
He then told us he would wait a couple months for her to grow and then put a Spica Cast on her in hopes of that cast being successful. We went back to Boise to put her first Spica Cast on. She had to go under general anesthesia while doing this procedure. She definitely made her cute pink cast look good!! And let me tell you the diaper changes were absolutely challenging! She had her pink cast on for 6 weeks and then we went back to Boise for a cast change and a hip evaluation.

Once again, hoping for good news, the surgeon came out and told us that there wasn't any improvement in her hips and he was hoping that this purple cast he put on will help her. She had that cast on for 1 week and I then began to feel popping by her hip sockets. I called the surgeon with the concern that her hips were still popping in and out while in the cast. He told me that the Spica Cast was not successful then ordered me to go get it off at his clinic here in Pocatello. So out of the 2% that the Spica Cast isn't effective on, Kynsley was one! Our next step was open reduction surgery.

In January 2013, we found out that Kynsley had a rare genetic disorder. Although there is no name for it, she is missing a little piece of chromosome 12 and has an added chromosome 16. This would result in a tiny petite little girl, developmental delays, and possible mental disabilities. So far, she isn’t showing any signs of mental disabilities, and the doctors don’t think she will have any, and if she does it will be just minor.

I took Kynsley to Shriners hospital in Salt Lake City for a second opinion. I never expected that with such a negative experience and time in my life, that I would find so much peace there. From the second I walked in the doors of Shriner's and saw two small boys in wheelchairs, one without legs, and another barely walking with an adorable little walker, with the biggest smiles on their faces, I KNEW that this was an answer to my prayers and we would continue with Kynsley's surgeries at Shriner's.

Kynsley went on to have 2 open reduction hip surgeries at Shriner’s, one in April 2013 and one in June 2013. Both of the surgeries she went through we had such amazing care during our stay. I would recommend Shriner’s to ANYONE who has a child that has complications and meets the criteria of having surgery there. This was such a learning experience. I have learned more in life from this little God-sent angel than I have from any other person! I believe we all go through experiences in our life that will help others through their lives. We all go through trials, some trials much greater than others. If we endure through them, they mold us into a stronger person. There are two different types of people during trials, the ones who allow trials to make them, and the ones that allow trials to break them. Notice I say "allow", the reason being, trials DON'T break us we only ALLOW them to. It is all up to us and we have the final decision to let them. We always need to remember, "if it's not this, it's always something else."

Kynsley is now 2 years old, she still isn’t walking, but she is attending physical therapy, occupational therapy, feeding therapy and speech therapy. My weeks are hectic, but I love my life with my sweet little girl. I would do absolutely anything I could in order for my daughter’s success and happiness in life.

I love my hectic, crazy life so much, that I decided to have another baby! We were blessed with a little baby boy born on Valentine’s Day 2014.

This is the quote that was on the wall in our room at the Ronald McDonald house in Salt Lake City:

"Promise me you'll always remember... you are smarter than you think, braver than you believe, stronger than you seem." -Christopher Robin to Pooh.

Through all of our trials with Kynsley, this quote has definitely proved itself to be true.

Just when I think I can't do it anymore, I surprise myself and find out that I can.
-Megan

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Amazing huh?  For all little Kynsley has been though, she sure is happy! And, you should see how much joy she brings to the people around her!  She's a people magnet. :)

Friends, I am in awe of the time, care, sacrifices, and dedication of parents who have children with physical or mental complications/disabilities.  The worry and the sleepless nights, the feelings of isolation, waiting and waiting for results, the doctor's appointments (sometimes in other states) as well as the medical expenses...these parents are overlooked heroes!  Megan, thank you for sharing your beautiful daughter's story with us!  

Please leave your comments for this momma; I'm sure she'd love to hear from you.  :)  

And, if you're new here to SOM, Welcome!  If you'd love to hear more stories from other amazing ladies (like you!) be sure to click the "Join This Site" button and/or the "Like" buttons up on the right side of this blog.  We have a lot of fun around here! :)

Also, if you were inspired by this post, please Like and Share it, so others can be uplifted too!  :) 

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Kicking Fear in the Face--My Messy Beautiful

By Amy

I am so freakin excited to be part of the Messy, Beautiful Warrior Project! This project celebrates the New York Times Bestselling Memoir Carry On Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life, just released in paperback.  (PS...the book is fabulous.)

I love Momastery.  Glennon's goal of getting women to be real with each other, to support and encourage each other is what we strive for here at Swag on Momma!  There's too much on-the-surface perfection out there, and too little opening of hearts.  We are all a little broken and a little messy, but life is still beautiful!  Here's me opening my heart to you about my journey to overcome anxiety...my messy beautiful.


*This is a pic of me trying on my cousin's wedding dress...it kinda freaked me out to be wearing that.

Sometimes I struggle with fear.  Real fear.  The kind that paralyzes you and keeps you from your daily functions.  And the tricky thing about fear?  It likes to sneak up on me.  I'll be happily sailing along in life, for weeks, even months...then it will silently creep in.  Buta I always recognize it, cause one thing never changes: it always whispers to me, "You're not good enough."

Growing up, I was very outgoing and happy, involved in the Show Choir, Newspaper staff, leadership in my Church youth group, and co-president of the art club.  I spoke my mind, I loved people, and I probably seemed pretty confident.  Basically, I didn't seem like the kind of girl who was scared.  Now, I wasn't a fearful person in general...in fact, I specifically remember standing up to the guy who was the most powerful super jock in the school when he was being a jerk to a girl in our class.  (I might have said, "Guess what.  You are NOT that hot." which was maybe not the kindest way to handle it.)  I also sang a lead role in the high school musical with lots of solos...I was shaking scared, but I knew I could do it--and I did!

However, there were other times when fear overwhelmed me.

First, I feared math.  Lame, huh?  After years of struggling, my vague dislike for the subject became deeper and more intense.  I excelled in other subjects and was talented in art and choir--but when I was in a math room, the only way I saw myself was STUPID.  I asked myself again and again, "Why the heck can't I figure this out and everyone else can!? What is wrong with me?" During my junior year, it became full-blown anxiety--I couldn't even think clearly enough to try to hear, let alone follow the teacher's explanation.  I'd sit, drowning in my rising terror, filling my lined paper with drawings to keep from crying in class.  During work time, I'd try to ask the teacher for help, but I would inevitably get scolded for drawing and daydreaming.  I couldn't explain that I was only trying to cope with the churning pit of fear in my stomach and the tears that were always waiting just below the surface.  Math filled me with shame--it taught me that I wasn't smart enough.

My other big fear was dating/relationships.  In high school, I secretly crushed on SO many guys, but as soon as I was asked out on a date, I would panic.  Bad.  I didn't even have a reason to be so afraid--I never had any scarring experience to justify my terror.  But as the friend of many beautiful, flirty, outgoing girls who made guys drool, I just generally felt less-than.  Not pretty enough, not smart enough, not funny enough, not flirty enough...just not enough.  And after years of reiterating that to myself, I became irrationally afraid of being paired off with one boy, even just for a 3 hour-long-date, because surely he would quickly become bored of my company, and wish he was with any other girl.  So I avoided dating.  It was safer.  I would never have to face rejection from a boy.  I had lots of really good guy friends that I was comfortable with, but as soon as any of them started acting "weird" (if any boy complimented me or showed any interest) I would run.  Even if I liked him; especially if I liked him!

Once, I heard an older boy said I was cute.  Later, I saw him coming towards me while I was wandering through the halls during class.

 The hall was empty--just he and I.  Walking toward each other.

And I was about to DIE.  My stomach was climbing up my throat, my arms were going numb, and my mind was...non-functioning.

In my panic I stuck my head in a locker.  And, no, not my locker.  I still remember being horrified at myself, rooting around like I was looking for my Biology notebook in some stranger's un-locked locker, willing that boy to walk past without noticing me.  Oy.

In college, it grew worse--I would have full-on panic attacks when I was asked out.  Anxiety was keeping me from any serious relationships, though I had many amazing guy friends and had a ton of fun at school.  The problem was, I really wanted to someday find a guy who would more than "like" me.  I wanted someone to "cherish" me.  I don't know how I got stuck on this word, but that's what I wanted.  And we would get married, have a family, and laugh and enjoy a happy, simple, awesome life together.  Not that I ever acted like I wanted to love and be loved.  But, in reality, I longed for someone to love me best in the whole world.  I literally wept when Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe FINALLY ended up together.  I sighed in ecstasy in every Jane Austen book and movie.

But you can't exactly get married without dating anyone. (and...being a mail order bride didn't seem like a smart option.)

This fear was a mountain in front of me that I couldn't seem to climb.  And after a while, I stopped trying.  I literally planned something for every Friday and Saturday evening of the entire semester, so that when I was asked out, I could just say, "Oh I'm sorry, I already have plans that night."

It seemed like a good strategy, although some would judge me as being cruel to the poor boys who had scraped up the courage to ask me out.

But, I couldn't very well tell them, "Actually, no thanks, because I'll get so emotionally worked up from now until then, that I'll fight nausea and dread every day, and then the day of our date, my IBS and churning stomach will cause explosive diarrhea for hours. And then I'll cry and have one of my roommates call and cancel with you. Now, I need to function for the rest of this week--I have classes and homework, so lets both avoid some suffering by agreeing that you should not ask me out."  

I didn't think that would go over well.

So I continued to avoid facing the fear.

At the age of 21, I decided to serve a mission for my church.  As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (aka Mormon) many young people go on missions--I had always wanted to go and serve others, and hopefully help bring others closer to Christ.  After agonizing over the choice for a year (since I did not want to be going just for a convenient way to avoid dating and relationships for a year and a half) I was finally still enough to recognize and feel God's approval for my decision.

While serving a year and a half mission for my church, I learned a lot about facing fears.  As a 22 year old, I discussed religion with trained Ministers and Preachers, I faced off drunk dudes on the street, and I invited people to learn more about Christ who looked like they wanted to punt me over a fence.  Plus, I was far away from my family and home that entire time...quite a stretching experience for me!  I got to see and help others overcome HUGE struggles.  They taught me that, "Oh heck yes, people can do hard things."  During this time, the Lord was my one and only lifeline.  I was forced to face fears on a constant basis.  And, I was surviving!  I started BELIEVING what God had always been telling me...that I was His daughter with infinite worth.  That I was Enough.  Enough for Him to send His perfect Son to die for me.  I truly came to know that Christ would lift me and help me face any trial, any struggle and yes, ANY fear.

And I was so freaking sick of letting it control my life.  In fact, I was ready to kick fear right in the face and knock out some teeth.

When I got home I had a truly solid faith that with Heavenly Father's help I could accomplish anything, even DATING.  I wasn't about to let fear rob me of my goals and my future.

God knows me well--He sent me Patrick three weeks after I got home, when I was still in my peak of faith and gutsy-ness.  But it still was terrifying.  I prayed a heckofalot while starting to date my husband.  But, I didn't retreat!  It was a miracle!  I knew how good and fun and hilarious and kind this short, bald guy was (I never anticipated loving a guy with no hair! haha!) and OH, how I wanted to be brave!  I knew he was worth facing the fear.

God kept me moving forward, often reassuring me that He was with me.  I was always kind of waiting for the day that Patrick would see that I wasn't enough and then stop liking me.  But, he never did.  And he got a pretty realistic picture of my craziness!  I was such a weirdo and seriously awkward most of the time we dated.  Example: the first time we held hands, he actually held my fist, while I covered up my face in my jacket collar.  I told him to let go--he laughed and told me to relax--we'd been together everyday for a month...It was time to start holding hands!  A few months later, he attempted to kiss me two different times, but I flat out refused.  I knew I loved him and wanted to marry him, but...I was the oldest girl in the world with virgin lips!  What if I sucked at kissing!?!?  A few weeks later, it took ONE HOUR of coaxing before our actual first kiss, while he sat all leaned over from the diver's seat with me huddled against the car door on the passenger side, muttering crap like, "Let's just forget about it, ok?!"...hahaha...I can't believe his patience!  And, it turned out that I liked kissing once I got used to it!  I *ahem* REALLY like it.  On June 19, 2010 we were married.  Life is not perfect, but it is really happy and oh-so-good!

It was a relief to overcome the dating anxiety.  Nowadays, I am so much better at controlling my response to fear.  I still face the normal day-to-day insecurities, like everyone.  But, now and then, when I feel anxiety start to pull me under, I have to realise that once again, I've been listening and believing that old familiar whisper, "You're not good enough."  So over and over, I have to choose faith instead of fear.  I have to trust that God will be by my side, even when bad things happen.  There's beauty and joy and happiness in life, if I can choose to see it.  He can magnify my meager efforts.  Even if I am just hanging on for dear life, I am still enough.  I am His.

I had to choose faith as a newlywed when we struggled with adjusting to life as a couple.

I had to chose faith as a freshly graduated, shakin-in-my-boots first-year High school Art teacher.

I had to choose faith when I was in labor and my baby's heartbeat kept dropping, and I felt wild with panic...My mind cycled these two phrases over and over: "Faith not fear!" and "Father, please keep my baby safe!"  And, after lots of pushing, he arrived, cone-headed, swollen, and safe.

And I really had to choose faith in the first few weeks after his birth.  I was a wreck.  My babe had reflux, couldn't breastfeed, and cried and cried and cried.  So did I.  I felt myself once again sinking under fear and hopelessness...drowning in despair.  I didn't know what I was doing and I was so lonely in my house all day with this little person who was so angry.  His cries sounded in my mind like "You're a failure.  So much for a motherly instinct.  You can't even take care of a baby.  You really aren't good enough."  Over and over I pleaded for relief, and slowly, just like Christ lifted Peter from the waters of the sea, He lifted me.  When I struggled to find happiness, I had to earnestly CHOOSE to see the good.  I tried to recognize and focus on the beautiful moments I did have with my infant.   I forced myself to reach out to people and to go on walks.  I started this blog!  I vented and cried to my loving husband who helped as much as he could while both working full-time and going to school full-time.  And, we got through!  My son's reflux chilled out and I found my momma groove.  And we love our stinker so much!

And now, expecting baby numero dos, I have to choose faith.  A few months ago, I developed an extensive blood-clot in my leg and ended up spending a couple days in the hospital with a bright purple, enormous leg.  And now, I have to give myself blood-thinner shots twice a day for the rest of my pregnancy.  It sucks...but, it's ok.  Every time I get ready to give myself the shot, I look fear right in the face and say, "No.  You will not win.  I will do whatever it takes to keep myself and my unborn child healthy. "

And when I feel like a crappy mom cause I get frustrated with my toddler, I have to forgive myself, keep trying my best, and trust that the grace of God will make up the rest.  And when I see family and friends that I love struggle with illness, depression, addiction, disappointment, and trials, I start to feel crushing worry for them...but, I have to trust that they are in God's care.  I can reach out, serve, and love, but it's not in my power to save them--they already have a Savior!

I am not going to let fear dictate my choices and life.  And though I'm far from perfect at this and I have weak times, I'm trying.  And that is what our Father asks.  With His help, I am enough.

And you know what I truly believe?  YOU are enough, too.  You deserve a life full of joy.  YOU are worth everything.  I know that, because every one of us is His beloved and cherished child.  We're not perfect, but we are striving everyday.  The daily efforts are shaping us and helping us become more like the Savior.  And His grace will make our meager efforts enough.

Friends, whatever your hurdles, whatever you fear, remember, that with God's help, with loving family and friends, with courage, YOU can overcome.  Choose to live in faith.  Take risks for worthwhile goals.  Do things that you love, even if you aren't a pro.  And love.  Life will be SO much more full than if you spend your days cowering in the shadow of fear.  We can choose faith and send fear packing...after all, perfect love casteth out all fear.

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PS. How about you?  Have you ever dealt with anxiety?  What do you fear?  What do you do to fight the fear?  I'd love to hear. :)

Also, if you are new here at SOM, Welcome!!!  This is a place where we share stories, tips, ideas, and laugh our heads off!   It's a lot of fun...We'd love to have you join the party! :)  (Psst, that means you should go click the little "Like" or "Join this Site" buttons...don't be shy!)

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We Love The Palmers!

By Amy

So, my friends...I don't usually do anything on SOM that has to do with mooola.  But, this is so important, I just had to get the word out!

Do you remember when I interviewed Tamara about her life as a mom of two kids and one infant, who also works full-time as a teacher?  Well, as if she didn't already have enough on her plate, her husband, Landon, who is in college full-time, found out he had a massive brain tumor.  Now, I don't know if you know this, but teachers in Idaho make pennies.  Really--I know cause I was one.  For a family with three kids, as a full-time teacher with 12 years of teaching experiences, Tamara still has a salary that qualifies her family for WIC.  That's like poverty level, people!  (Don't get me started on the ridiculous injustice it is that teachers are paid crap for doing such a challenging and overwhelming job with tons of outside unpaid preparation for every class!)  Because they were just trying to pay bills and buy groceries, they couldn't afford insurance for Landon.  As you can imagine, the bills involved with brain surgery are monstrous, especially with no insurance--so suddenly they found themselves underneath a ginormous pile of medical debt.  And then, of course their car breaks down!  Go figure, huh?

Here's a some pics to show their journey.

Before surgery.

Waiting.

The tumor is gone!!  Pretty impressive scar, don't you think?

Getting to hold his baby girl.

They let him out of ICU to see his kiddios! 

Time to go home!

The fam!

Tamara's brother and sister-in-law started a fund so that others could help them with this burden. If there's any way you could make a donation, they would be so grateful.  So would I.  I love these people.  They are so wonderful and deserving of good, since they always reach out to others to love and serve them.  I told Tamara, I wish I was a millionaire, so I could sneak in and pay all the bills!  It would be so fun! :)  But, as my husband is a student, and I only make money from a couple art lessons a week...no can do.  But extraordinary things can happen when many ordinary people work together! 


And let me tell you, it's been amazing to see their faith through all of this.  At our book club meetings, I've seen Tamara tell us how frustrated, scared, and worried sick she is, but I've also heard her say in the same conversation that she knows their family will be fine, and that she's seen so many answered prayers and tender mercies from the Lord that she knows He is watching over their family.  Now, we get to be God's hands in helping this family!

Click on this link to read their story and make a donation.  And, thank you in advance for anything you can give to support!  Even a little means a lot! :)

Love, Amy

Oh, and please Share this!!!! Thank you! :)

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Southernized

By Erica 
Introduced by Amy

Erica and I grew up going to the same church, though I was a few years older than her.  She is super funny and cool...I totally wish I had gotten to know her better back in the day!  I am blown away by her courage; it would not be easy to move far away from friends and family with a little kiddio and babe on the way!  I also completely related to the process she went through to find the good in her new home.  It's nice to know I'm not the only one who takes a while to "cheerfully adjust" to situations that are new and/or less comfortable.  She amazes me!  I hope you enjoy her candid story as much as I did. 
-Amy
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I used to think that I was spontaneous, fun-loving and audacious.  I was wrong.  Dead wrong.  I found out early this year that I am a true homebody with no sense of adventure at all.  It was a tough break and a very eye opening realization.

My husband, Austin, graduated from Brigham Young University in December 2012 and we spent the next couple of months in my parents basement in Idaho searching for a “real” job.  It was fun and romantic imagining our lives in another state, somewhere we'd never been before.  It was a new beginning for our little family. And then ... we weren't imagining anymore.  Suddenly, I found myself 34 weeks pregnant, in an airplane, with a screaming one year old squirming in my lap, headed to a tiny town called Camden, Arkansas.

Okay, it didn't happen THAT easily. After my husband accepted the job offer I was left to decided if I wanted to up and move with him right now, or let him go ahead and find us a place to live and meet him there after I had the baby.  I wrestled the two ideas for days.  I can't tell you how much sleep I lost over this decision.  I made a pro vs. con chart, I asked my friends and family for opinions, I prayed about it, and ultimately we went together.

We arrived in Arkansas on February 11.  I remember the date because our wedding anniversary was the next day and, of course, Valentine's Day followed suit.  Camden has a population of about 12,000.  Now, that's about 3 times the size of the town I grew up in, but the difference is, where I grew up, all shopping, restaurants, movie theaters etc., were a short 15 minute drive from home, in the next town.  In Camden, if you want to see the inside of a store that isn't Walmart, it's a 2 hour drive.  2 hours!  That's nuts.  We are really out in the sticks, here.  We were holed up in a hotel room for 1 week with no fridge or microwave, and during that time we were searching high and low for a place to live.  It was darn near impossible and we ended up getting what seemed like the only available rental in town.  And it is not pretty.  Let me just say this: wood paneling and cockroaches.  Oy. Not the place I wanted to bring my kid to, let alone a newborn!

Camden is about 30 years behind the rest of the world.  The houses are old.  No one has a garage.  The medical system is weird (there are no Ob/Gyn docs here, and I was ready to pop, mind you).  I was scared.  I was homesick.  I was unhappy.  Austin's new job had him gone for 10-12 hours a day and for some reason, being in a new place all alone with my baby had me thinking everyone I saw was a murderer.  The mailman stopped by to introduce himself (that's how nice everyone here really is!) and my heart stopped when I heard him pounding on the door.  I really did think everyone was out to get me!  I would stand and stare out the window like a creep watching the cars go by and I noticed every single one slowed WAY down when it was passing our house.  Was this my imagination?!  What is going on?!  Nope.  We live on a corner intersection with a stop sign.  I was truly paranoid, people.  I know, I'm a weirdo, with a morbid, wild imagination.  I'm working on that.  So, after several weeks of sitting rigidly in my bedroom all day, scared at every single sound, I got over it.

But I still wasn't happy.  All day, every day, I was consumed with anger.  I was angry that my husband moved me so far from all of my family and friends.  I was angry that we had to live in this crappy house that smelled like a dead person and felt damp inside.  I was angry that instead of renting a U-Haul like normal people, we bought a trailer that was way too tiny and had to get rid of a ton of our stuff (that's a story for another day).  I was sending my poor hubs text messages all day about how miserable I was and how horrible my son was being to me (like I was some victim of baby tyranny).  I told him all the time how much I hated it and wanted to find another job some where else.  Talk about annoying!  Austin was working his buns off everyday, doing his best to provide for his family, so I could stay at home with my kids and all I could say was “Why did you bring me here?!”

No.  That is ridiculous, and super ungrateful.

It took some time to realize it but one day I made a goal for myself.  I decided I would go an entire day without sending a negative text to Austin.  It was liberating.  My 1 year old wasn't attacking me personally, he was just being a regular baby.  And I wasn't miserable, I was just pregnant.  And the next day, we went outside and played in the sunshine and I didn't hate it here after all.

I still felt homesick and lonely, though.  Austin and I had a discussion about making friends.  He says to me, “You just need to go make some.”  Hmm, great advice honey, I'll get right on that.  It's hard for me!  He gets to go to work everyday and make friends with his coworkers.  I am lucky to make it to Walmart during the week and maybe get some small talk in with the cashier.  I was sulking about not ever having the same relationship with anyone else that I do my bestie (I'm not hip enough to use that word), Lisa, that I left back in Utah.  We were roommates and got married and had baby boy's together.  We could talk about the nitty gritty and we could always depend on one another.  Fortunately, I belong to a church full of awesome people that are just WAITING to be my friend, and maybe I won't have the same relationship I have with Lisa, because hopefully I won't be put back in the roommate situation, but that's okay!  I can have friends that don't remind me to pluck my “chiskers” (kindly named by my dear friend, meaning chin whiskers) and they don't have to teach me what hemorrhoids are after I push out a 10lb baby (she really is a good friend).

I've already made two trips home since moving but I think it gave me closure.  I am falling in love with the people in this town.  They have the biggest hearts and they bless my life everyday.  I am learning to just be myself and the people that don't run in the other direction will be the ones I call my new friends.  I think I'm off to a good start.  It helps when I speak their language, like saying y’all, fixin' ta, and putting extra emphasis on the Ju in Ju-ly.

I've officially been Southernized. 
-Erica

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Isn't she cool? :)  
So, now it's your turn.  Have you ever moved far away from friends and fam?  How did you get used to your new home and meet new peeps?  We'd love to hear about your experience! :) 
-Amy

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Out Running Cancer

By Brittany
Introduced by Amy 

Brittany is my second cousin (my dad and her mom are first cousins).  She pretty much blows my mind: she is an amazing athlete (um, I am in awe of any sort of athletic ability...or any coordination for that matter!).  She is smart, kind, and beautiful.   

I remember riding on the bus with her and our other cousin, Nicole, reading chapter books together, chatting and laughing the whole way to school.  As we got older, we were involved in different activities and made different friends, but we were always friendly to each other.  After college, it was sad to hear that her dad was fighting cancer, but I was also SO inspired to hear about his turn around!  The whole family became more health-aware.  Brittany writes about becoming healthy and her love for running on her blog "Running From It."  She also covers other topics, such as riding behind sled-dogs, getting engaged, dry-heaving on the side of the road, traveling to Hawaii and New York, and her incredible duck lip talent, just to name a few.  I don't even like to run, but her witty writing and awkwardly posed pictures seriously keep me interested and laughing.  

I am so glad she was willing to share this story.  Especially since I have chocolate-chip brownies calling to me from the cupboard...this is perfectly timed!  Cause, lets face it, we all have times when we need the reminder that exercise and good nutrition go far beyond just fitting into a smaller size of jeans--it's about living a healthy, strong life.  Creating healthy habits now just may save our lives someday!
-Amy

My first encounter with cancer began many years ago.  As a young girl, one of my dad’s brothers found out he had stage four cancer.  I didn’t know exactly what that meant at the time, but I knew he was one of my favorite uncles.  He passed away.  Several years later, another one of my dad’s brothers also lost the fight to cancer.

Two years ago in January, my 54-year-old dad went in for a routine colonoscopy.  I love to give him a hard time and tease him relentlessly, so this time was no different.  It became a big joke that he had to have this procedure done and he was such a good sport.

My dad and brother in 2008

 The morning of his procedure came and I didn’t think twice about it.  Well actually, I must have thought about it, because I had a good joke prepared for when he returned home.

My dad was the first one through the door, when my parents returned from the doctor.  I didn’t look up from the workout I had been doing, when I jokingly said, “Did they tell you that you are going to live?” SILENCE.  My dad did not respond.  I finally looked up and I saw my mother’s face.  My heart lurched in my chest when I saw her.  I knew immediately that something was wrong.  With tears streaming down her cheeks, she responded for my dad, “No.”

I struggled in the months following my dad’s colon cancer diagnosis.  A lot of negative thoughts ran through my head.  I was not very optimistic for my dad.  My dad’s brothers received the same diagnosis with the same type of cancer, and there had only been one outcome.  I kept thinking I would lose my dad and it broke my heart.

Immediately after his diagnosis, my dad started riding a stationary bike.  He strived to become healthier before undergoing surgery.  Many prayers later, in March 2011, doctors successfully removed his cancer.  Although the journey was rough, his experience has become a HUGE blessing to him and many in our family.  Colon cancer prevention has become a big deal.

As many of you probably know someone with cancer, it can often come back.   There are a number of factors that can contribute to a colon cancer diagnosis.  Several of them are:

1. Obesity
2. Diets high in animal fats and low in fiber
3. Sedentary lifestyles
4. Not getting screened at the age of 50 (or 40 for those that have family history)

My dad decided that he would reduce all of those factors in his life.  After recovering from surgery, he stopped riding his bike and laced up his running shoes.  Six months after his surgery, he successfully ran his first ever 10k race!  I was a little bit worried when he agreed to do it.  I was a very proud daughter when he crossed that finish line!

I jokingly mentioned to him that he should run a half marathon with me.  Only a year after having several feet of his intestines removed, we stood together at the Salt Lake City half marathon starting line and agreed to try our hardest.  I cried as we went our separate ways and was already proud of my dad for trying.  After I had finished, I walked back to a difficult hill just before the finish line and waited for him.  When I saw him looking so strong as he passed a lot of people running up the hill, I cried again.  He was (is!) my hero.

My dad running up that final hill

After the race

Not long after recovering from the Salt Lake City half, it became our goal to run a full marathon (26.2 miles.)  At the starting line of the Logan Marathon on September 15, 2012, I remember my dad’s wave to me as we went our separate ways.  We agreed to do our best, but neither of us would be disappointed in the other if they didn’t make it.  I cried for the first mile.  The entire time I ran I had no idea if my dad was okay.  Seeing my dad run the final stretch of that marathon was one of my proudest moments.  A year and a half earlier, I didn’t know if he would even be around, so to see him accomplish something so hard made me very emotional.

Since my dad’s diagnosis two years ago, he has ridden his bike, walked, and ran more than 10,000 miles. To improve his diet, he drinks a green smoothie every morning and eliminated red meat. Finally, he gets screened when he is supposed to.  Many in our family try to keep up him these days, but it is virtually impossible.

Conclusion:
This wasn’t a story about a mom, but many of us have personally been affected by someone with cancer.  My heart goes out to any and all of you had a loss.  I have so far been very blessed.  Because I had a slight glimpse of the pain that it can cause, I try to share what I have learned about colon cancer.  Colon cancer unfortunately is the second leading cause of cancer death in the United States.  With that said, it often can be prevented.  Virtually all colon cancers start as a polyp.  Having polyps removed before they become cancer, can be a big factor in preventing it.  Colonoscopies discover these polyps.  I will be getting a colonoscopy at 40.  If there is no family history, 50 is the suggested age for everyone else.  It can be an uncomfortable thing to talk about, but if caught early, colon cancer can be prevented.  I didn’t know that, but I am glad that I do now.

-Brittany

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