Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Four Little Band Aids
Everything went well Monday. Thank you for your prayers! And now I have to say, if you or anyone you know requires a hysterectomy, find a doctor who does it robotically! Seriously, this is amazing technology. I had a complete hysterectomy on Monday and all I have to show for it is four little band aids at the waistline. I am home, able to hold Bear, walk stairs, drive (provided I'm not on pain meds) though I am doing all of those sparingly. I do think I will be back to work next week. I feel like I should be shouting this from a mountain top so more women know this is an option. It also costs less than the traditional method so insurance companies should like it too. Thank you again for your prayers! I am feeling good, resting, and ready to start some paperwork!
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Making Peace Just In Time to Say Goodbye
Hannah was in deep anguish, crying bitterly as she prayed to the Lord. And she made this vow: "Oh Lord Almighty, if you will look down upon my sorrow and answer my prayer and give me a son, then I will give him back to you." 1 Samuel 10-11
I am going to write about something that is a little uncomfortable for me to talk about. It just seems distasteful and too personal to write publicly about. I am going to try to click on the "publish post" button before I change my mind.
Tomorrow I will join what a group of female coworkers used to call the Uterine Free Club. I am scheduled for a hysterectomy at 7:30 am. I have gone round and round with uterine fibroids for the past 7 years, maybe more. They have been there in the background of day to day life, draining my energy and unfortunately, draining some life. I decided to write about this because fibroids are so very common and we women rarely talk about them. It's just a routine, pretty icky female problem that does not make for polite conversation. It wasn't until my first surgery 5 years ago that I learned that at least 4 women in our immediate family have had hysterectomies because of fibroids. 3 of them were unable to have children because of it. I grew up knowing these women and did not know this!
I should have called it quits on the uterus 5 years ago. But I was 34, Dodd and I had been trying to have children for some time, and we didn't want to give up easily.
As I lay waiting on a hospital bed for an ultrasound tech to confirm what my OBGYN and I suspected but what my heart had not yet accepted, I had a very real encounter with God. It was one of a handful of moments in my life that I felt his presence acutely.
It felt like he was gently yet firmly reminding me that a child was not mine to possess. Overwhelmed by the sense of his presence, I told him that if he decided to give us a child, I would not hold that child tightly. I promised to remember that he was God's first, entrusted to my care for a time. I promised to give him over. That was when I still had hope of conceiving.
The ultrasound showed I had at least 5 large fibroids growing inside and outside of my uterus. My doctor said if I was older and already had children she would recommend a hysterectomy without question. It was hard news to hear and weird to talk about. It felt very serious but the fact was, they were just dumb benign tumors that didn't really do anything besides cause a mess. I did not have cancer or something serious. I told people around us and I was surprised at how many women I knew were totally flip about the subject. "Oh yeah, no big deal. I had them too. Have a hysterectomy, you will be fine." It was a common reaction that eventually became painful to hear. Most comments like that came from women at least 10 years older than I was whose uteruses had already carried and delivered children into their arms. It was quite another thing to digest the news when the organ hadn't yet fulfilled its duty.
We found a surgeon in the area who removes fibroids laparascopically with a very high rate of pregnancy afterwards. He was sure we would conceive within a year of the procedure. 5 years ago this week I had the surgery, recovered well, and we resumed trying.
And trying. and trying.
Hope faded. Those years were barren, and not just reproductively. It felt like nothing came to birth in my work, service, or relationships. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I was walking the desert. It is difficult to pray in faith and to care for others when you feel dry and dead, which only compounds the situation.
Last year, a few weeks after we brought Samuel home, I returned to the OBGYN with the same set of symptoms I presented 5 years ago. She confirmed what we both knew. The fibroids grew back with a vengeance. We've tried to treat them with various medications. I'm too young for menopause which would stop the fibroid growth. The doctor told me that I would require a hysterectomy, it was just a matter of timing. She wanted to make sure I was emotionally ok with it. With the thought of Bear's sweet smile in the back of my mind, I told her honestly that it was fine. At this point, it was just a useless organ to me that had done nothing but cause misery every month for the past 26 years.
But I shouldn't be so hard on the poor uterus. In it's way, and in it's time, it did bring forth a son. And, as Dodd told our social worker at one of our post placement visits, our son is more perfect than if I had physically carried him inside me for 9 months. And perhaps another purpose of this uterus was to powerfully teach me that all that we have and receive is on loan from God. I would have been a possessive mother. Maybe I still am. But after going through this, I entered motherhood prepared to do what all mothers must eventually do, let go of their children.
I am not into numbers and symbols, but realized as I thought about writing this that there is an interesting coincidence in timing around this week.
So, I am at peace with the uterus and ready for its departure. Hysterectomies have come a long way in the past few years. If all goes well, I will be home the day after surgery and back to work in 1 to 2 weeks. My Mom is flying in to help with Bear while I recover and I expect to be back on my feet in a week. I better be, I have a lot of paperwork to do!
Tomorrow I will join what a group of female coworkers used to call the Uterine Free Club. I am scheduled for a hysterectomy at 7:30 am. I have gone round and round with uterine fibroids for the past 7 years, maybe more. They have been there in the background of day to day life, draining my energy and unfortunately, draining some life. I decided to write about this because fibroids are so very common and we women rarely talk about them. It's just a routine, pretty icky female problem that does not make for polite conversation. It wasn't until my first surgery 5 years ago that I learned that at least 4 women in our immediate family have had hysterectomies because of fibroids. 3 of them were unable to have children because of it. I grew up knowing these women and did not know this!
I should have called it quits on the uterus 5 years ago. But I was 34, Dodd and I had been trying to have children for some time, and we didn't want to give up easily.
As I lay waiting on a hospital bed for an ultrasound tech to confirm what my OBGYN and I suspected but what my heart had not yet accepted, I had a very real encounter with God. It was one of a handful of moments in my life that I felt his presence acutely.
It felt like he was gently yet firmly reminding me that a child was not mine to possess. Overwhelmed by the sense of his presence, I told him that if he decided to give us a child, I would not hold that child tightly. I promised to remember that he was God's first, entrusted to my care for a time. I promised to give him over. That was when I still had hope of conceiving.
The ultrasound showed I had at least 5 large fibroids growing inside and outside of my uterus. My doctor said if I was older and already had children she would recommend a hysterectomy without question. It was hard news to hear and weird to talk about. It felt very serious but the fact was, they were just dumb benign tumors that didn't really do anything besides cause a mess. I did not have cancer or something serious. I told people around us and I was surprised at how many women I knew were totally flip about the subject. "Oh yeah, no big deal. I had them too. Have a hysterectomy, you will be fine." It was a common reaction that eventually became painful to hear. Most comments like that came from women at least 10 years older than I was whose uteruses had already carried and delivered children into their arms. It was quite another thing to digest the news when the organ hadn't yet fulfilled its duty.
We found a surgeon in the area who removes fibroids laparascopically with a very high rate of pregnancy afterwards. He was sure we would conceive within a year of the procedure. 5 years ago this week I had the surgery, recovered well, and we resumed trying.
And trying. and trying.
Hope faded. Those years were barren, and not just reproductively. It felt like nothing came to birth in my work, service, or relationships. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I was walking the desert. It is difficult to pray in faith and to care for others when you feel dry and dead, which only compounds the situation.
Last year, a few weeks after we brought Samuel home, I returned to the OBGYN with the same set of symptoms I presented 5 years ago. She confirmed what we both knew. The fibroids grew back with a vengeance. We've tried to treat them with various medications. I'm too young for menopause which would stop the fibroid growth. The doctor told me that I would require a hysterectomy, it was just a matter of timing. She wanted to make sure I was emotionally ok with it. With the thought of Bear's sweet smile in the back of my mind, I told her honestly that it was fine. At this point, it was just a useless organ to me that had done nothing but cause misery every month for the past 26 years.
But I shouldn't be so hard on the poor uterus. In it's way, and in it's time, it did bring forth a son. And, as Dodd told our social worker at one of our post placement visits, our son is more perfect than if I had physically carried him inside me for 9 months. And perhaps another purpose of this uterus was to powerfully teach me that all that we have and receive is on loan from God. I would have been a possessive mother. Maybe I still am. But after going through this, I entered motherhood prepared to do what all mothers must eventually do, let go of their children.
I am not into numbers and symbols, but realized as I thought about writing this that there is an interesting coincidence in timing around this week.
- 5 years ago this week was Surgery 1.
- 1 year ago this week Bear came home.
- Tomorrow is the hysterectomy.
- And this week while I am on medical leave I will complete the application to adopt our second child from Ethiopia! Seems cosmically fitting!
So, I am at peace with the uterus and ready for its departure. Hysterectomies have come a long way in the past few years. If all goes well, I will be home the day after surgery and back to work in 1 to 2 weeks. My Mom is flying in to help with Bear while I recover and I expect to be back on my feet in a week. I better be, I have a lot of paperwork to do!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Christmas Letter 2010
Winter Wrapping
The Ethiopian name Bereket means Gift from God. Adding an "e" to the end of a word in Amharic personalizes it. Samuel's caregivers in Ethiopia called him Berekete. His name rolled off their tongues in a thick, beautiful accent, full of affection. Berekete! "God's gift to me!" they exclaimed as they threw him in the air and covered him with kisses.
CHRISTMAS DAY, 2009. Dodd and I board a plane to Detroit to Amsterdam to Khartoum, Sudan and finally to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. There in Addis, a 5 month old baby boy living in an orphanage has no idea who we are, that we are coming, or that earlier that month an Ethiopian judge declared him our son and changed his name to Bereket Dodd Miller. On December 27, around 4 in the afternoon, he is placed in our arms for the first time. God's gift to me.
NEW YEAR'S DAY, 2010. After 28 hours of travel, 3 tired Millers arrive in Milwaukee. Samuel, who lived in Ethiopia a day earlier, is now home in Hubertus. God's gift to me.
WINTER, 2010. Samuel's personality is irrepressible. He is a gregarious, strong, smart little boy with eyes that sparkle when he smiles which is often. He is clearly here to live life. He and I bond during my 3 month maternity leave, while wisconsin Winter goes through its motions outside. He goes mobile in February, scooting around the house, and goes vertical in March, standing and reaching for new heights. He gets stronger, taller, heavier, healthier. All four of his grandparents as well as his aunt and uncle travel to Wisconsin to meet him. All parties seem generally crazy about one another. God's gift to me.
SPRING, 2010. The Miller Family transitions as I return to work and Samuel begins daycare. Daycare is good for him as it provides the activity, social interaction, and padded floor and walls that a busy boy needs. Daycare is hard for me, but returning to work helps me find a rhythm again that helps our entire family. It seems that each new day brings new abilities, words, or expressions. Teeth appear in his mouth. This boy does not wear out. He is go go go. I catch my chubby 8 month old sitting on the floor wiggling his shoulders to jazzy music. He's got rhythm. God's gift to me.
SUMMER, 2010. We travel from East coast to West coast to Kansas and Oklahoma to celebrate 3 weddings. Two cousins are now married and one dear friend. Samuel gets to travel and meet more of his family, who shower him with love. In July we celebrate his first birthday. While getting ready for the party, he decides it's time to get serious and begins walking. We turn his car seat around. He is now a front facer. He loathes shoes and socks. He spends lots of time outside in the yard with Dada. His eyes now sparkle with smiles and mischief. God's gift to me.
FALL, 2010. Somewhere between summer and fall, Samuel transitions from baby to toddler. Sounds of wild giggles and pounding little feet fill the house. His extreme mobility causes the house to come alive. Not a dusty corner anymore to be found. We frequently find our shoes in the trash or a toothbrush in the sock drawer. In pursuit of more work/life balance, Dodd and I both make professional transitions. We have the same employers, just different responsibilities. In October a Wisconsin judge changes his name to Samuel Bereket Miller and he receives a Wisconsin birth certificate. This will result in US citizenship. Somewhere between summer and fall he also becomes a Daddy's Boy. We say goodbye to our kitty Merl (nicknamed Muh by Samuel). Samuel knows how sad we are and gently rubs his daddy's arm to comfort him. God's gift to me.
DECEMBER, 2010. We shake our heads. How can it be that a year has passed since he came home? There is life and love again in our home. Gifts don't seem necessary. It feels a little like we've been unwrapping gifts all year.
Thank you for your patience with us this year. We send this to you because we're thinking of you this Christmas with warm thoughts and smiles. Gifts of peach and joy to you friends!
The Ethiopian name Bereket means Gift from God. Adding an "e" to the end of a word in Amharic personalizes it. Samuel's caregivers in Ethiopia called him Berekete. His name rolled off their tongues in a thick, beautiful accent, full of affection. Berekete! "God's gift to me!" they exclaimed as they threw him in the air and covered him with kisses.
CHRISTMAS DAY, 2009. Dodd and I board a plane to Detroit to Amsterdam to Khartoum, Sudan and finally to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. There in Addis, a 5 month old baby boy living in an orphanage has no idea who we are, that we are coming, or that earlier that month an Ethiopian judge declared him our son and changed his name to Bereket Dodd Miller. On December 27, around 4 in the afternoon, he is placed in our arms for the first time. God's gift to me.
NEW YEAR'S DAY, 2010. After 28 hours of travel, 3 tired Millers arrive in Milwaukee. Samuel, who lived in Ethiopia a day earlier, is now home in Hubertus. God's gift to me.
WINTER, 2010. Samuel's personality is irrepressible. He is a gregarious, strong, smart little boy with eyes that sparkle when he smiles which is often. He is clearly here to live life. He and I bond during my 3 month maternity leave, while wisconsin Winter goes through its motions outside. He goes mobile in February, scooting around the house, and goes vertical in March, standing and reaching for new heights. He gets stronger, taller, heavier, healthier. All four of his grandparents as well as his aunt and uncle travel to Wisconsin to meet him. All parties seem generally crazy about one another. God's gift to me.
SPRING, 2010. The Miller Family transitions as I return to work and Samuel begins daycare. Daycare is good for him as it provides the activity, social interaction, and padded floor and walls that a busy boy needs. Daycare is hard for me, but returning to work helps me find a rhythm again that helps our entire family. It seems that each new day brings new abilities, words, or expressions. Teeth appear in his mouth. This boy does not wear out. He is go go go. I catch my chubby 8 month old sitting on the floor wiggling his shoulders to jazzy music. He's got rhythm. God's gift to me.
SUMMER, 2010. We travel from East coast to West coast to Kansas and Oklahoma to celebrate 3 weddings. Two cousins are now married and one dear friend. Samuel gets to travel and meet more of his family, who shower him with love. In July we celebrate his first birthday. While getting ready for the party, he decides it's time to get serious and begins walking. We turn his car seat around. He is now a front facer. He loathes shoes and socks. He spends lots of time outside in the yard with Dada. His eyes now sparkle with smiles and mischief. God's gift to me.
FALL, 2010. Somewhere between summer and fall, Samuel transitions from baby to toddler. Sounds of wild giggles and pounding little feet fill the house. His extreme mobility causes the house to come alive. Not a dusty corner anymore to be found. We frequently find our shoes in the trash or a toothbrush in the sock drawer. In pursuit of more work/life balance, Dodd and I both make professional transitions. We have the same employers, just different responsibilities. In October a Wisconsin judge changes his name to Samuel Bereket Miller and he receives a Wisconsin birth certificate. This will result in US citizenship. Somewhere between summer and fall he also becomes a Daddy's Boy. We say goodbye to our kitty Merl (nicknamed Muh by Samuel). Samuel knows how sad we are and gently rubs his daddy's arm to comfort him. God's gift to me.
DECEMBER, 2010. We shake our heads. How can it be that a year has passed since he came home? There is life and love again in our home. Gifts don't seem necessary. It feels a little like we've been unwrapping gifts all year.
Thank you for your patience with us this year. We send this to you because we're thinking of you this Christmas with warm thoughts and smiles. Gifts of peach and joy to you friends!
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