The Storm(s)

I was in love with my job in 2013 and frequently traveled around the state to meet with communities I represented. At the end of January I headed to Southeast Michigan to present to a group of local government managers (and while I shouldn't pick favorites this group was definitely my favorite). It was an unseasonably warm January day, but it was really windy with promises that the temps would be dropping. 

I drove home in the driving wind, hands gripping the steering wheel the whole time. It was a harrowing drive, and I was so relieved to finally pull into my driveway. I walked into the house to find my usually stoic husband in tears. His father had passed away unexpectedly of a heart attack. I was in disbelief that out of nowhere my seemingly healthy, only 57-year-old father-in-law was no longer with us. We got back into the car and I drove back to Southeast Michigan to my mother-in-law's house. 

Those days are a blur, and I remember the angst of losing someone I loved too, but the feeling of being an outsider. We were married five years at that point, but this wasn't my father. It as a strange feeling. (A few years later when we lost my dad I was grateful my husband had our sister- and brother-in-law as a support group). 

The funeral was over, everyone went home, and we went back to our lives with a hole in it. I did the only thing I knew how to do: threw myself into running and traveling. I was training for the Cherry Blossom 10-miler in DC in April and the Pittsburgh Half Marathon in May. I met my sister for a long weekend in Denver. 

Post-Cherry Blossom 10-miler, April 2013

Pittsburgh Half Marathon, May 2013

Denver, March 2013

I was scheduled to run a race in Chicago over Memorial Day when we got the call we'd been waiting for: a birth mom had chosen us. We drove to Southeast Michigan to meet her, and I don't know that I've ever been more nervous than I was for that meeting. I dressed carefully in an orange tea-length skirt, cardigan and pearls. I looked like June Cleaver (and we all know June Cleaver I am not). 

Generally when it comes to being comfortable with strangers I am much more at ease than my husband, but as we walked in this room and saw our birth mother heavily pregnant and playing with her 14-month-old daughter, I froze. I felt like I could barely function. My husband carried the bulk of the conversation as we got to know her. Our caseworker later told us that creating an adoption plan for a full sibling is very unusual, and we knew how lucky we were to be chosen.

We went home and began to prepare in earnest to be parents. We were having a girl, and friends bought us pink onesies and wash cloths. We named her Eliza Audrey. I couldn't help myself and bought a little swimsuit and a Christmas dress on clearance at Target. I filled the dresser with her clothes and we waited.

We got the call on a Wednesday afternoon, but our caseworker said she'd changed her mind about wanting us at the hospital during the birth. We'd come after she arrived. She assured us that we needed to remain flexible because these things happen. Birth mothers are dealing with a lot of complex emotions, and we needed to roll with it. 

I left the office when I got the call knowing that I could no longer concentrate. I went home and we packed a bag preparing to drive an hour to the hospital. Later that evening the caseworker called with the first dreaded news: the birth mother was wavering and considering parenting the baby. It wasn't a done deal, but it felt like it was. 

Wednesday faded into Thursday, and we waited for news. We got the call in the afternoon that she'd changed her mind, and it felt like a punch in the face. So my husband and I did what any rational couple would do: got raving drunk and then booked an impromptu weekend in Toronto where we'd turn off our phones and lick our wounds.

Our impromptu Toronto vacation, June 2013

My husband comes with a bury the pain kind of philosophy, and I have a feel things and feel them hard philosophy. For me loss was so absolute all during 2013. I registered for and ran the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, DC that fall, ever mindful that a few weeks later was her first Halloween. 

Exhausted after 26.2 in DC, October 2013

My husband and I fought about the different way we were handling it. With the loss of my father-in-law and the loss of our child I felt raw that year in a way I've never felt before or since. I remember saying to my husband once "I wonder what her first Christmas is like?" He seemed baffled that even if I thought it I would mention it. It was also the first Christmas without his dad. There were so many emotions. It was a tough year for us as humans experiencing loss and as a married couple managing it in completely different fashions.

Toward the end of the year I received word that I'd been accepted to run the New York City Marathon in 2014, so I poured my sorrow into running. My husband's Michigan State Spartans played in the Rose Bowl on New Year's Day of 2014, and we took a beautiful vacation to San Francisco, drove down Highway 1 and ended in Pasadena for the game. We were healing the best way we knew how. 

Outside the Rose Bowl, January 1, 2014

In 2014 I set my PR in every distance. In the spring I finally broke 2 hours in the half marathon in the Cocoa Classic in Detroit. I did it again a month later in the Kalamazoo Half Marathon. I finally shattered my 26:00 5k PR running 23:55 in Downtown Lansing. I completed a sprint triathlon. By summer I was in the best shape of my adult life. I had, however, developed another hernia nearly identical to the one in 2011. I scheduled surgery to repair this hernia, but first my husband and I took a beautiful vacation to Quebec City and Montreal. I think it was the miles that saved me in 2013-14: the miles I ran and the miles we traveled.

Finally breaking the 2 hour half marathon mark, April 2014

Post-Kalamazoo Half Marathon, May 2014

Obliterating my 5k PR, May 2014

Trying a tri

Wedges and cobblestones DO mix. Quebec City, July 2014

We came home and it was time to get down to the business of surgery. My hernia surgery seemed to go as well as the one previous one. I went home without complication, but after a few days I was vomiting and unable to keep anything down. We went to the ER, and I was admitted to the hospital. The on-call surgeon indicated that I didn't have an obstruction and just needed to "walk it off" so we went home where I proceeded to throw up violently all weekend.

On Monday morning I called my surgeon's office, and he was appalled. He directly admitted me to the hospital. They tried to do a small bowel follow through exam, but I vomited the contrast. I was sent in for surgery again a week later, and my surgeon found a significant amount of scar tissue that had created the obstruction.

I woke up with the dreaded NG tube. A PICC (peripherally inserted central catheter) line was inserted for nutrition, and I began the arduous process of healing. We later discovered a blood clot around my PICC line which would result in 6 months of blood thinners. I also lost about 30 pounds in my weeks in the hospital, and the best shape of my life had taken a quick turn.

In the fall of 2014 I got back into running more quickly than I'd imagined I would. I reset my 10k PR around Halloween. Work was going well, and I was preparing to leave the lobbying world that I'd loved to transition into running my organization's foundation.

But in November we got the call again: a birth mother had chosen us again.