Hope through Courage

These memories...

This story...

...is one full of hope...

desperation...

confusion...

tears...

exhaustion...

joy...

immeasurable perseverance...

resilience...

strength...

determination...

happiness.

I never truly knew how strong I was until being strong was the only option I had... 

In 2015, my husband and I were given the most amazing news we could have ever hoped and prayed to received: we were expecting! It was an exciting yet extremely scary time. Neither one of us knew how my body would handle pregnancy, but both of us were willing to travel through this miracle with our eyes wide open.

In May 2015, we found out we were expecting a little boy.

The movements I felt throughout my pregnancy were feelings I could never explain. Every single time my little boy would kick, I'd smile and start singing to him. It was such a beautiful feeling. I can remember my husband's hands on my stomach trying to feel our son kick. To this day, I'll never forget the look in his eyes when he finally felt a kick. 

However, just over three weeks after our gender reveal party, I started to have cramps in my lower abdomen. It was strange, really. It felt as though baby boy was kicking my cervix and rear. It was one of the most incredibly strange feelings I had felt during my entire pregnancy. In the beginning, I thought that it was just part of being pregnant and that this little boy just wanted to play.

The "kicking" started Saturday, June 6th...

The kicking turned into cramping, and the cramping became more severe on Sunday, June 7th, but I still told myself that it was a normal pregnancy thing. I was convinced that since I had just entered into my third trimester that my body was preparing for what was to come.

My husband and I were going through our normal routine, and while sitting down to eat dinner, I clearly remember not being able to sit still because of the fierce kicking and moving. No matter how I positioned myself, I hurt. I really had not idea what was happening. However, I could still feel my beautiful baby move. In fact, on Friday, June 5th, I had an ultrasound which showed a very healthy little boy. All of the vitals that were taken from me during that appointment were perfect. I was healthy, and there were no issues.

In the blink of an eye, it's amazing how something can change...

On Monday, June 8th, I texted my boss to tell him that I needed to stay in bed.

That something just wasn't right...

Monday, June 8, 6:52 AM

"Hey, Jason, I need to use PTO today. Something has been going on with me since yesterday morning and it got worse overnight. I need to be able to just lay in bed today and not move. Is this okay?"

I stayed in bed all morning. The cramping became worse. I was curled up into the fetal position literally writhing in pain.

Was I tired?

Was this stress?

Oh, my God...is something wrong with the baby?

I called my doctor's office around 11AM because the cramping was bad enough that it was taking my breath away, and I was experiencing brown discharge. The office told me that I was merely having "old blood" showing because the baby was kicking my cervix. I was told to go to the ER if the discharge became bright red.

Sigh of relief, I suppose.

Around 2:00 PM  the cramping was absolutely horrendous. I was sweating. I was shaking. Something was wrong.

It was around this time that I thought I had wet the bed. I managed to get out of  bed, and started walking to the bathroom.

Was this my MS?

When I finally arrived into the bathroom, what I saw in the mirror was terrifying. My skin had turned almost gray, and I was covered in sweat.

This was the last time I would feel my son kick...

What I thought was me wetting the bed was actually my water breaking. When I looked down, blood was running down my legs and had pooled at my feet. I called my husband. I remember telling him that he needed to come home because something was wrong. I needed to go to the hospital. I called my brother. I called my dad.

Would this be the last time that they would hear my voice?

After the phone calls, I told myself that if I took a shower, I would feel better. Surely warm water would help ease the cramping. While I was in the shower, I started feeling faint. I turned off the water, and tried as hard as I could to walk out of the shower.

I cannot die in the shower...

My husband told me that when he got home, he found me on the floor next to the shower in a pool of blood - in and out of consciousness. However, I do still remember when my husband got home - I was relieved and so very terrified at the same time. From what he told me, he managed to make it to our house in seven minutes from his job (a typical half hour drive). Had he not gotten there as soon as he did, my son and I would have died.

I managed to stand up to slip on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt (a t-shirt which said "hope through courage"... it's amazing how accurate that t-shirt would become). The pain was unbearable. I was screaming. Bleeding profusely.

Trying to get in my husband's truck was horrible. When he got me to the passenger door, I flung my body over the seat and just screamed. I truly thought I was dying. I wanted nothing more than to feel my son kick; to feel that connection. However, there was nothing.

God, just save my son.

My husband has told me that on the way to the hospital, I was in and out of consciousness. I remember arriving to the hospital and throwing myself against the truck passenger window and screaming. I remember the look on the nurse's face from the inside of the hospital as she saw me. Our eyes met, and she ran from the inside of the hospital out to the truck. I fell out of the truck, and she and my husband got me into a wheelchair, and I was rushed back to the women's center (WC).

The screaming.

The sweat.

The crying.

The cursing.

The blood.

Once inside the WC, I was rushed into a room and was immediately undressed so internal examinations could start. Upon the first internal check, the nurse told me, "Honey, you're having a baby."

It was too soon.

I was screaming no. I closed my eyes, and felt my husband's hand on my foot then my leg then my hand. I kept telling him over and over how sorry I was. I told him that it would be okay, but in the back of my mind, I didn't think it would be.

Crying and screaming, I heard the nurse tell another nurse, "The baby has fallen through the cervix."

I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I saw my doctor. My God...the man who would, ultimately, prove to be my angel. I reached out to him, and said, "Dr. Breed, please help me. Please help the baby. Please!"

It was around this time that my husband was told that it was uncertain if either myself or our son would make it out of surgery. There was a 10% chance of survival for both of us due to the severity of what was happening and the amount of blood I had already lost.

I was rushed back to the operating room away from my husband. Would this be the last time that he would see me alive? I wanted nothing more than to have him next to me, but he wasn't allowed in the OR. All I could do was close my eyes, and picture his amazing face.

I don't remember much about the OR other than being told not to push, having my legs tied together, and being reminded to breathe. I do, however, remember the face of the nurse. I remember her continually wiping away my tears and telling me that I would be okay. I remember her saying that I wasn't going anywhere and that I would meet my son soon. I remember how cold her hands were. I remember a tear falling from her eye...

I remember the anesthesiologist. I remember his face when he saw me - the look of panic and despair. From what I understand, I was covered in blood, I had no color, I had dark rings around my eyes, and my breathing was shallow.

I remember the doctor that the team was waiting for to help birth my child. When he arrived, I heard him and my doctor speaking. He had told Dr. Breed that they needed to hurry up so they could save the baby before I was gone. Dr. Breed screamed at him, "No! They are BOTH getting out of this!"

Then darkness...

Silence...

No pain...

At 3:47 PM on June 8th, 2015, Caleb Elijah Curry was born.

1 pound 15 ounces
12 3/4 inches long

Caleb was being held in a plastic covering (to keep him warm) with another nurse bagging him to help him breathe. This was when Chris was able to cut the cord.

Caleb would be transported to a different hospital a couple of hours after his birth. One with a level IV NICU. One that would, ultimately, save his life... I, however, would not meet my son until two and a half days after his birth.

My husband finally saw me in the first recovery room. I was weak due to blood loss, but I was alive. At 25 weeks 4 days gestation in a completely healthy and normal pregnancy (MS aside), I had suffered from a severe placental abruption.

A placental abruption is "an uncommon yet serious complication of pregnancy...[where] the placenta peels away from the inner wall of the uterus - either partially or completely. A placental abruption can deprive the baby of oxygen and nutrients and cause heavy bleeding in the mother. [It] can happen suddenly [and if] left untreated...puts both mother and baby in jeopardy" (para. 1-2).

Because the abruption was caught in time, I did not have to have a blood transfusion. However, it took over a month for my iron levels to reach the point where my doctor was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

My stay in the hospital is something I do not remember much of. I do remember that my brother was there when Chris was going back and forth between the hospital I was staying at and the hospital Caleb was staying at. My father and his girlfriend were also there. I remember seeing my sister-in-law while I was at the hospital, as well. However, any conversations while they were there are completely gone from my memory. In fact, almost every part of my hospital experience is completely wiped from my recollection.

However, the only memory I have of my hospital stay is when Chris was able to get a video conference scheduled for me so I could finally see Caleb. The staff within the hospital Caleb was in worked with the staff within the hospital I was staying in to allow me to see him. It was, quite possibly, one of the most amazing moments I can remember.

The next day, I was released from the hospital. I didn't have the congratulatory balloons or flowers most new mothers get. I didn't get to leave in a wheel chair with my baby in my arms. My husband and I left...alone.

That evening, however, my husband took me to the hospital to finally meet Caleb. This was the first time I was able to touch him and see him face-to-face. This is the moment that my life completely changed. With tears streaming down my face, my eyes finally caught a glimpse of my beautiful baby boy.

I saw him breathing.

He was there...right in front of me, and, my God, he was so beautiful.

Caleb arrived to the Integris Baptist NICU on June 8th. He was not discharged to go home until September 14th.

98 days...

For 98 days, my husband and I had to leave our son behind when we went home in the evenings.

For 98 days, every time the phone range, our hearts sank, and we panicked.

For 98 days, we were empty shells of who we once were.

For 98 days, we held on to every ounce of strength and hope we had to remain strong for our son.

With each passing day, there were highs and lows because the NICU is one huge roller coaster ride of uncertainty. However, what we saw were complete strangers who loved our son as much as we did. These individuals saved our son's life. They watched him fight to breathe...fight to thrive...fight to live. They saved his life and at the same time, allowed Chris and I to cry and worry but always managed to give us hope and strength. With each passing day, we watched our beautiful son go from being fragile to overcoming odds most do not experience in an entire life.

No matter the circumstances we go through, no matter the trials we face, we must always remember that we are brave, we are strong, and we are courageous. When we want to give up, we must remember that we can still keep going. Through it all, we are given this life to fight for what we want.

Caleb, a beautiful and tiny miracle, fought to be where he is today - a beautiful, healthy, very happy one year old fighter.

Caleb...
 
My hope.

My strength.

My miracle.

My hero...

Silent Fears: Caregiver and Child Perspective of MS

I often find that revisiting something already known helps with understanding and coming up with new ideas regarding how to handle one thing or another. We are all creatures of habit, but one fascinating thing is that what we may believe we already know can actually be understood in an entirely different context when revisiting it. 

For the past few months, I have heard multiple people tell me that there is no way I could be sick because I 

"look so good." 

Those words really infuriate me. 

I love that I am able to have an outer image that makes others question the devastation of an illness and provides hope to those who need it. However, the most difficult part of getting others to understand an invisible illness is to convey to them, physically, how such an illness can completely shatter a life. Sadly, this is something I am currently enduring professionally.

I wake every single morning terrified that I will not be able to get out of bed. I go to sleep at night with fears that I will not be able to see or hear in the morning. I'm absolutely horrified that MS could creep in and prevent me from walking down the aisle in December. No matter the fears, however, in the back of my mind, I know that whatever happens will be just another stepping stone in my journey.

My poor fiancé has to cover himself with multiple layers when he is in bed because our house is set at a brisk 68 degrees. He does all of this because he knows the importance of regulating my body temperature. I hate that this happens. It's not fair to him, but he does it because he loves me. 

I still have a hard time understanding how someone could love another who is broken.

To him, I'm not broken. I'm perfect.

Wow.

The most heartwarming fact to me, however, is the overwhelming support I have from those who love and care about me. Even now, I do still struggle with how MS can affect those around me. What I struggle with and endure daily is a direct issue for myself. Caregivers and children, however, must endure the disease indirectly, and that, in and of itself, can be undeniably overwhelming, terrifying, and lonely.

There is an old post of mine, "From the Outside Looking In", that I feel is vitally important in any MS journey.

"Before my MS diagnosis, I was a selfish, cruel, and unpredictable human being. Though my family has always been undeniably important in my life, for a couple of years, I was purely concerned with what I wanted. Period. No one else seemed to matter to me, and to a certain extent, during that time of my life, I was okay with that. 
 

Often, when an individual is diagnosed with MS, talks about how he or she changed, how he or she handled the diagnosis, what he or she was/is scared of, etc. are constantly at the forefront of many conversations. What many fail to realize is, although one person is diagnosed with MS, the diagnosis affects more than just that individual. Although MS does not have me, I have MS which means that those I am in constant contact with also must endure the disease, as well. Often, the feelings of those who are indirectly affected with MS seem to be pushed aside. It is in my experience that these “other individuals” have lives that change, as well. They may not have MS. They may not have to directly endure the daily struggles, fears, pain, anxieties of MS, but indirectly, their lives can change as much as the life of their loved one, spouse, significant other, family member, friend, co-worker, neighbor…

It is incredibly important that the voices of those affected with MS are heard. Those affected with MS are more than just the individual with the disease. I believe it to be extremely important to understand how an outsider looking in – friends, family, significant others – feels about how the disease has affected me, what they are scared of concerning MS, and how they feel about the disease in general. 

[My big brother is the first man I ever loved. He taught me about strength and determination and perseverance. He showed me that it is never okay to give up. More importantly, he showed and proved to me that those who love us will never leave us during times of struggle, uncertainty, and fear. I wholeheartedly believe that he is the main reason why I am still here today. His words radiate through me every single day, 

Desireé, you do not understand what is going on right now, and that's okay. What you are going through - every single aspect of your life - is preparing you for something much greater. It's okay that you do not know what you are being prepared for. That means you have to hold on to faith and hope. There is a reason for everything you endure. If you want to be mad then be mad. If you want to cry then cry. If you want to give up, guess what, I won't let you. I will be here every step of the way to make sure that you keep looking forward and you keep fighting because you are strong. I believe in you.]

My brother is a 33 year old husband and father of two. He is immensely intelligent, captivatingly charming, and highly protective of those he loves. Throughout my struggles, he and I have gotten closer. He is, by far, one of my strongest support systems, but I never truly knew how my MS diagnosis changed him nor did I realize how strong he has been for me during my struggles…

1)      How did you feel when you heard the news of Desiree’s MS diagnosis?

Helpless. I have always been very protective of my sister. I can still remember incidents from our childhood of bullies trying to pick on her resulting in my angered retaliation on her behalf. But with this, I for the first time felt like I couldn’t protect my little sister and it was the worst kind of feeling I could have.

2)      What are you scared of concerning MS?

The pain my sister has to endure. The unknown and even mortality have never truly scared me as much as having to stand by and watch my loved ones be in pain. Every time I hear of another issue that causes Desiree pain, I sit and pray that [somehow] I might be able to take her place so that she might find some relief. I still pray that prayer today.

3)      How has Desiree’ changed since being diagnosed with MS?

She has become tempered steal. Not cold, but strong beyond measure. Just like the tempering of a sword, she has come through the fire a stronger and more brave woman. It’s a change that I am thankful everyday she has gone through. I just wish it could have come under better circumstances.

4)      How has the diagnosis changed you?

I have redirected my personal development to become as strong and courageous as my sister. She has become one of my most important role models and a living example of some of the most important characteristics every good person should strive to possess.

5)      What would you tell others about being a family member/friend/significant other of someone with MS?

Stay strong. The world [may] seem like it is crashing down around you and that you are losing someone you care deeply for, but the fact is that having faith and courage during times like these can be better therapy than anything modern medicine can develop. The therapy of a good support system is immeasurable and invaluable. Also, be informed. It is absolutely true that knowledge is power. You cannot be a truly supportive person without having the knowledge of what is happening. Finally, don’t forget to love. There is no emotion within the human experience stronger and with more healing power [than] love. Become the medication your loved one so desperately needs.

6)      What is your wish for Desiree’ when continuing her life with MS?

That she never loses her strength, courage, and faith. When we give up or give in, that is when life begins to take a turn for the worse. As long as we remember what we are living for and have faith that the trials we are enduring have been put in place to prepare us for something much greater then we will always succeed. 

[There have been so many times when the emotional anguish caused by MS has taken its toll on me. I am a strong woman, but I am far from perfect, and I am okay with that. Randomly, I would start thinking that MS is my struggle and should not be a struggle for anyone else. I've told myself countless times that I would not wish this disease on my worst enemy. Telling my fiancé about MS was one of the hardest conversations I've had. I was falling madly in love with him which made telling him about the struggles I was enduring with MS that much harder. He did not ask to fall in love with a woman who is ill. He did not ask to go through the ups and downs that Multiple Sclerosis brings. However, even after telling him about MS, he chose to stay. Chris is my dream come true. My happily ever after. My knight in shining armor. My soul mate. When I feel like taking a step back to dwell on my MS, his words keep me from giving up, 

You aren't broken. You're perfect. I will be here every day making sure you know that you are loved and making sure that you know that there is a man, standing right here, willing to do everything he can to take away all the hurt and pain you go through. I may not be able to take MS away from you, but I am able to make you the happiest woman alive. I may not be able to make MS disappear, but I am able to prove to you that my love, my support, and my strength can protect you, nurture you, and save you from pain. When you hurt, I hurt. When you cry, I cry. When you smile, my heart smiles, and I am content.]

I met Chris at work. In the beginning, I was merely captivated with his genuine sincerity. I had no intentions of trying to start a relationship due to an ended marriage that contained nothing but abuse, fear, and turmoil. However, in a short amount of time, I quickly learned that Chris was unlike any other man I had ever known. His arms are like a shield for me. I’m protected and unconditionally loved. When I explained to Chris the MS, I could tell that although he was being supportive and understanding, he was scared and confused. He has seen me at my best, celebrates my triumphs, has seen me in a shattered physical state and picks me up when I fall. Before Chris, I never really understood what it meant to be loved unconditionally. I know that with him, my aspirations will become a reality, and I know that our two lives have become one.

1)      How did you feel when you heard the news of Desiree's MS diagnosis?

When Desiree told me that she had MS, I was first scared and even more so worried for her and also us, as we were just starting our life together. Wondering what would this mean for our relationship and our future together. At the time I had next to no knowledge about MS and how it was or could affect Desiree. It was very emotional to hear everything that she has been through, overcome, and was currently dealing with on a daily basis. All I wanted to do is hold her, and make everything better, if I only could.

2)      What are you scared of concerning MS?

I am scared that this horrible disease will take away Desiree from me as I know her, however I try not to think of it in this matter and be thankful for every day, hour, minute, and second that we get to spend together doing things that make us happy.

3)      How has Desiree’ changed since being diagnosed with MS?

He is unaware of how I was before the diagnosis. Although I have explained to him the person I used to be, he continually focuses on the person I am today.

4)      How has the diagnosis changed you?

Since learning that Desiree has MS, I would say that I look at life somewhat differently. I try to be more aware of my surroundings, activities and the risks I take doing so, not only knowing how the outcome would affect myself but the woman I love.

5)      What would you tell others about being a family member/friend/significant other of someone with MS?

That you cannot dwell on what might happen, but to enjoy today and be thankful that you have today.

6)      What is your wish for Desiree when continuing her life with MS?

That she is able to continue to pursue her education, career path, and starting a family. All while she is controlling this horrible disease and not letting it control her" (Cook, 2013).

I am constantly trying to find new ways to help those in my life, my family and friends - ultimately, my caregivers - endure Multiple Sclerosis and its indirect impact it has on them to be a little easier.

I have been able to find an amazing guide to give to friends and family members who may need additional support.

A Guide for Caregivers

Radford (2011) explained, 

It is easy to feel invisible. Everyone's attention goes to the person with MS and no one seems to understand what the caregiver is going through. Many caregivers say no one even asks. Mental helth experts say it's not wise to let feelings of neglect build up. Caregivers need to speak up and tell other people what they need and how they feel (p. 5).

Quite possibly, children seem to have the hardest time understanding Multiple Sclerosis because they cannot see it. I have found some amazing newsletters specifically designed for children and have been blessed to find videos, as well. 

A newsletter for kids about Multiple Sclerosis

This is a quarterly newsletter published by the National Multiple Sclerosis Society. I highly recommend it to parents who have MS to be able to explain the disease to their children in different ways. A letter written by a young girl was sent to the editing staff of the newsletter. Her words are spot on, and I believe other children will be able to understand where she is coming from.

Hi, I am Ariana and I am 11 years old. I have a great dad with MS. I know it is hard to have a dad with MS, but it has a good side too. My dad and I have so much in common - we both love basketball, and we love other sports too. I love him so much no matter what he has. He will always be the nice, caring, and funny dad I know on the inside.

Ariana

P.S. I have some advice for kids whose parents have MS. My dad has had MS for awhile, and I've learned how to adapt to that. I've talked to my dad about MS ever since I was little, and have learned a lot about it by just talking to him. My friends have always comforted me too. All you have to do is find a quiet place for you and someone to talk about MS and how you feel (Ariana, 2007).

Additionally, there are three videos I have found that do a wonderful job explaining to children what MS is, what happens in MS, and what a relapse is. 

Despite the uncertainty that MS can bring, never forget that you are not alone, and we are all in this fight together. 

References:

Ariana. (2007). Ariana's story [Letter to the editor]. Keep S'myelin, 3.

Cook, D. (2013, January 31). From the outside looking in. [Web log comment]. Retrieved from http://movingforwardwithms.blogspot.com/

Radford, T. (2011). A guide for caregivers: Managing major changes. Retrieved from http://www.nationalmssociety.org/NationalMSSociety/media/MSNationalFiles/Brochures/Brochure-A-Guide-for-Caregivers.pdf

Blown Away

Early yesterday evening, I took my mother on her monthly shopping trip to a local Neighborhood Wal-Mart with my fiance. As always, both of us were running around the store to get her things to prevent her from being trampled by the massive amount of shoppers in the store.

In typical fashion, I traveled to the pharmacy to pick up her medication and grab a few items from the Health and Beauty section. Of course, like always, I decided to peruse around the aisles looking for something that caught my eyes. 

While looking, a gentleman named Jeremy said excuse me since he thought he was in the way. When I looked at him, I smiled, and said, "No, no, no. You're perfectly okay." By this time, his eyes began to squint a little like he had something he was trying to figure out.

Meeting him and speaking to him quite literally illustrated why I write this blog. 

After Jeremy telling me that he swore he knew me and that I looked familiar and that it was driving him insane because he couldn't place me, he asked if I had written any books. I smiled at him, and said no but was in the process of writing one. By this time (no offense, Jeremy), I was slightly concerned. My fiance was in the store helping my mother, but he wouldn't hear me if, for one reason or another, I began calling his name.

I had completed grabbing the items I needed to get for my mom, and told him to have a good day. His response was endearing. "I know I know you. You look so damn familiar that I swear I could lose my mind trying to place you." I smiled again and told him that I was sorry, but I did not recognize him. 

As I was walking away, he held up his phone and yelled, "You're Desireé!! Moveforwardwithms.com!! Oh! My! God!! You're famous!!"

By this time, not only was I completely shocked and overwhelmed, but my heart was exploding because my blog is reaching so many, and these readers are recognizing me and the words I write.

Jeremy told me that as soon as he saw me smile, he knew he had seen me before, and he finally figured it out.

I confirmed that I was the writer of this blog and told him that it was a pleasure to meet him and that I was so happy he read my writing.

With tears in his eyes, he told me that his mother, Celeste, reads my posts, and my writing has given her hope. He told me that I have no idea how I have changed her life; her outlook on having MS; her behavior and attitude.

It was endearing to see him become so ecstatic while he was speaking to me and begged for a picture of me. I kindly declined, but he requested that I write something to his mom as he handed me the back of a checkbook.

I wrote to Celeste, "Celeste, remember that nothing worth having comes easy. Though you may have MS, MS does NOT have you. xoxo Desireé moveforwardwithms.com."

This is the first time I've physically met a reader outside of my family and friends, and to be quite honest, meeting Jeremy, hearing his story of his mom, and hearing how my writing has influenced her allowed me to realize, again, that what I am doing is not in vain.

Jeremy also asked why I haven't written in a while. To my readers, I am sorry. With grad school, work, family, and planning a wedding, things have been quite hectic in my life. I can assure you, however, that my writing is not sparse because I do not want to write. You are all the reasons why I write.

With all that I am, thank you. Thank you for reading my humble blog. Thank you for reading my story and sharing your fears and successes with me.

To Celeste, however, please know that meeting your son was an absolutely incredible moment for me. You raised a great young man, and you should be proud of the man he is. He loves you dearly and would do anything to ensure that you are healthy and happy.

Thank you for reading my blog. I hope that my words offer you comfort during terrifying and confusing circumstances. 

I know you've had MS for quite some time, but never forget that how you react to your circumstances - your behavior - shapes you into the woman you are today. You are an inspiration to so many, and you are an inspiration to me. In less than six months, I will be married to my best friend, and he and I will be trying to have a baby. Knowing you had MS before you had your son gives me hope that I can have my own child one day. 

Celeste, you are not alone. In every step you take, never forget that you have others supporting you and ensuring that you are safe and secure. I am here supporting you and fighting along right beside you. 

If you become fearful or discouraged, keep in mind that no matter what, you will get through anything that comes your way. You are a strong, courageous, and amazing woman. All who know you are blessed with your presence. Though I've never met you, I am forever changed to know about you.

Remember, Celeste, stay strong and hopeful. Though circumstances may try to knock you down, I have no doubt in my mind that you will get right back up and continue fighting - like I do. Thank you for proving that hope and determination can be radiated through words. You, Celeste, are my inspiration.

Surviving

I often find myself struggling to keep up with my blog due to time constraints. It never fails that when I write something, I am given the opportunity to learn more about my readers which makes finding the time to write so important to me. 

In less than 24 hours, I received 17 different e-mails from readers around the world asking me questions, telling me their story, and explaining that seeing a post I have written feels like Christmas. Though I want to answer every single e-mail through this blog, I want to share an e-mail sent to me early this morning from a woman in South Dakota. Through her words, I am able to understand MS more.

Desiree,

I have noticed that you haven't written much in your journal lately. When I was notified of your post, I dropped what I was doing to read your words. You amaze me, but you make me angry.

Your story has captured many, I am sure. Your words have a way of magnifying an illness  people do not know about or understand. Your determination is flawless (to me), and I respect that you continue pushing yourself past what you think your limits are.

Do you feel that your words could cause envy and jealousy? Do you stop and wonder that by sharing your thoughts you are hurting another persons core because they can't do what you do? Do you see yourself as a billboard MS "survivor"? Do you think it is fair to share so many of your stories to those who do not have the strength to do what you do? Do you think it is right to make people think that what you can do, they can do? What type of person do you think you are within the MS community if you seem to not be able to relate to everyone with this MonSter? 

Let me assure you, you do cause envy and jealousy. Your thoughts cause those of us with MS to wonder why we cannot have it as easy as you do. You should not always say that you can do things and be things and continue on with what you are doing because that creates feelings of insignificance to those of us who cannot do what you do. It is not fair that you share what you have done and what you are doing to a world that you really do not seem to know anything about. You cannot relate to every person with this disease, and you should be ashamed of yourself for sharing your stories since most of us cannot do what you are doing. 

Though I respect your writing and am consumed by your thoughts, I feel that you should stop this journal and make your thoughts private. No one wants to read what you are thinking and doing and becoming since they cannot do the same. 

Regards,

Janice

After reading this e-mail about four or five times, I was shattered. Am I sharing too much or being too open about my MS journey? I do not think so at all. After collecting my thoughts and emotions, my response to Janice is one I believe all of my readers should understand:

Good Morning, Janice:

I appreciate the honesty within your e-mail. I cannot explain the joy I feel knowing that my stories and words are read by so many. In response to your inquiries...

1) Do you feel that your words could cause envy and jealousy?

Unfortunately, I know that my words/stories could cause envy and jealousy to individuals within the MS community (patients, caretakers, parents, siblings, etc), but that is not my intention. My hope when starting this blog was to provide information to those seeking knowledge. When I was diagnosed over eight years ago, I was unable to reach out to those with this disease. I want to be able to share my struggles, my pain, my successes so those enduring this disease can see that there is life and hope after the diagnosis. 
 
2) Do you stop and wonder that by sharing your thoughts you are hurting another persons core because they can't do what you do?

By sharing my thoughts, I do not feel that I am "hurting another persons core" because I am trying to illustrate hope, perseverance, and determination when many with this disease see it as a death sentence or an avenue to give up. I am trying to be the voice that so many desperately need to hear. They need know that they are not alone and see that just because this disease exists for them, it does not mean that they are stuck or confined to a life of pain, terror, sadness, and loneliness. 
 
3) Do you see yourself as a billboard MS "survivor"?

Janice, I do not see myself as a billboard MS survivor. I do not disclose my stories/knowledge/hope to make myself seem like the MS patient who has it all or who has been able to overcome the odds. I share everything to provide a voice to an otherwise very dark subject. This disease took control of my life when I was 20. I'll be 29 tomorrow. Though I am still young and though I still have numerous years ahead of me, I still have a long journey to face. Not a day goes by that I do not continually wonder if I will be able to walk or talk or be the woman I've worked so hard to be. I have not survived MS. I am battling the disease like everyone else. I am surviving the disease, and I am trying to give hope to those who feel like their life is over. If I can reach one person, if I can prevent one person from allowing MS to take over their heart, mind, and soul, I think I have accomplished what I originally set out to do. 
 
4) Do you think it is fair to share so many of your stories to those who do not have the strength to do what you do?

I am the only person who can stand in my way. There is not an illness, a circumstance, etc that can prevent me from reaching my goals. This is the one thing I wished I would have been taught when I was first diagnosed because I spent years blaming MS on what I couldn't do, what I wouldn't do, etc. Every single one of us has the strength, determination, and perseverance needed to reach beyond our goals. I am trying to be the small nudge, voice of reason, and support needed by every person enduring this disease. 

5) Do you think it is right to make people think that what you can do, they can do?

I am not making anyone think that what I can do, they can do. I am providing the hope needed to illustrate that anything is possible no matter the circumstances. I cannot make an individual angry, sad, jealous, envious, etc. They are the only person who has control of their emotions. I am merely hoping that I can provide the needed insight to go a step further.

6) What type of person do you think you are within the MS community if you seem to not be able to relate to everyone with this MonSter?

Every single person with MS is different. This disease is different so there are no two patients who are the exact same. Every person with this disease is able to relate to another with MS due to the only commonality - Multiple Sclerosis. I can connect with a complete stranger because he or she shares the one thing: Multiple Sclerosis. Through it all, I have MS. It DOES NOT have me nor does it have any other person. Never forget that.

I appreciate your concern for the MS community. Though I am unable to relate to every symptom and though I am unable to relate to every story, I am able to provide my words to illustrate that hope and courage and perseverance can allow anyone to push forward to come out on the other side stronger, braver, and more determined than before. I will not discontinue my blog nor will I control what I say for fear of instilling jealousy or envy. Through it all, I know that my words, my story, my hope, my determination, my fears, my successes, and my perseverance will radiate to those who read this blog. At the end of the day, that is my only desire.

Thank you, again, for your e-mail. Your thoughts allowed me to dig a little deeper into the, otherwise, mysterious world of MS. 

To those who read my blog, thank you. No matter your circumstances, no matter your story, no  matter the type of MS you have, never ever forget that you have MS. It does not have you. You control what you can and cannot do, and through it all, never forget that you have someone fighting with and for you every single second of the day.

Me.

Mirror

Since 2005, weakness began to ravage my body to the point of being incapable to function as the young woman I once was. There have been countless times over the past eight years that I have made excuses as to why I couldn't do something...or why I didn't want to be active...or why I decided to let the medication and fatigue take over my entire being.


However,


that was then.


This is now.


On May 2nd, I'll be turning 29. This will be the last year that I have to live in the decade that changed my life forever (I was diagnosed with MS on December 17, 2005 - I was 20). Somehow, everything seems to finally make sense to me. What I never really seemed to realize is that my life is not just about me.


It never has been.


This past December, I became engaged to a man who truly encompasses every aspect of what I believe love should be. We support one another. We celebrate each other's successes and pick each other up should we fall. Not a day goes by that I am not continually reminded by an action, a touch, a word, or a smile that I was chosen for everything I am...


and everything I am not.


There were no excuses present when Christopher made his choice to have me (me!!!) as his future wife. When he looks at me, he sees his future. When I look at him, I see my future, and I see everything worth fighting for.


Christopher and I have discussed starting a family soon after our wedding. With these discussions, I've realized that now more than ever, every aspect of who I am, every success, every downfall - everything - will ultimately affect more than just myself.


Now, when I look in the mirror, I see that my overall well-being is no longer just about me. I am fighting for myself, my future husband, our future children, our future grandchildren, and our lives.


I find myself pushing harden than before. No more excuses as to why I cannot do something. I have a goal to run a half marathon in a year. Will this happen? Absolutely!


No more excuses of paralyzing fear. I was terrified to go back to school for my Masters. Am I doing it now? Absolutely! Am I going to graduate? You better believe it! Will I go back for my PhD? Who's stopping me?


No more excuses as to why stopping/giving up is okay for the time being. Have I wanted to give up during grueling workouts or intense study sessions? I cannot describe the want there. Did I? Nope.


No more excuses as to why I cannot be the woman I want to be. No more excuses as to why I cannot be the wife I want to be. No more excuses as to why I cannot be the mother I want to be.


No more excuses.


Period.


Today, I fight for myself. I fight for my future. I fight for my future's future.


Today, I stand here fighting for and with you.


It is a very scary world. There seems to be road blocks around every corner, but through it all, through the adversity, through everything that would typically make an individual give up, it is our purpose to keep going.


Keep your eyes open. Hold your head up high, and follow the path you were meant to take.


Only you stand in your own way.

Christa and Shirley

This past weekend, I was pleasantly surprised by an e-mail from a reader (Christa). This e-mail, however, was from a caretaker of a woman suffering with MS (Shirley). Reading her words made me incredibly emotional yet I could feel the pain, sadness, and loneliness that Shirley has and is feeling.

Through Christa's words, I have a new respect for those in our lives who continually strive to make our lives easier. I thoroughly believe that MS can be a blessing in disguise, and I believe that Christa is Shirley's guardian angel

(for privacy purposes, I have eliminated parts of Christa's e-mail to me).

Hi Desiree,

You don't know me but I believe I might have found u on the web for a reason. A very dear friend/client of mine has struggled with MS for some time now. Recently, she was placed in a nursing home due to the 24 hr a day care that she now needs. Shirley is in her 60 's , far from old, and completely depleted and depressed. This is a woman who is normally extremely positive , cheerful, insightful, educated and loving. She told me today that she wants to commit suicide , that is how unhappy she is. This is not the Shirley I know.

I imagine she feels very alone with this disease and maybe if you reached out to her and let her know she's not alone it would make a world of a difference. ...thanks for reading and I hope you are doing well.

Thanks again.
Gratefully,
Christa

Christa:

It is impossible for me to express the emotions I had while reading your e-mail. I am always so surprised when I receive any type of communication from my readers, and your e-mail had me in tears.

First and foremost, thank you for reaching out to me in regard to your friend/client, Shirley. I hope that you are able to speak to Shirley on my behalf and give her the words of encouragement that she needs. Though my words are for Shirley, please know that my words are intended for you both.

Shirley:

There was a time in my life when I felt

alone,

defeated,

empty,

abandoned,

sad,

unhappy.

Everything I tried to build my life upon crumbled beneath me, and I was content with allowing my life to dwindle into nothing. Sadly, I was okay with doing whatever I had to do to ensure that my life ended sooner rather than later. No matter how many times I tried or how many times I begged for my life to be over, I still remained.

But why?

What we may be unable to comprehend or accept is that everything we go through – our struggles, our adversities, our tears, our triumphs – prepares us for something much greater. We do not know what has been planned for us nor do we know what we are being prepared for. What we can do now, however, is take the walk with our heads held high and move forward.

You are an incredible woman.

Your pain, your struggles, your tears have continued to empower your character. Though you may want your life to end, though you may want to give up, and though you may want to allow this disease to consume your being, you cannot. You can continue to move forward as the positive, insightful, cheerful, loving, and educated woman you are. You may be searching for a way out, and I understand why you are. However, please know that you can continue living a fulfilled life and can reach higher than you originally believed your aspirations and dreams could take you.

Shirley, you are not alone.

You have a support system that will pick you up when you fall and celebrate your triumphs. Shirley, I am here. I will always be here to answer any questions you may have, listen to your fears, or be the kind soul you need to listen. No matter what, never forget that you have MS. MS does not have you.

You have had an amazing and beautiful life, and you will continue living in amazement and beauty. You will be shocked by what your body can overcome and how your heart can heal the deepest wounds. You are, Shirley, a creation with a deep and unwavering plan. Always keep in the back of your mind that nothing worth having comes easy. You may want to give up, but know that you are being guided and protected..

I am here with you fighting for the same things you are. I have all the faith in the world that you will overcome the struggles you have faced and will fight through the mazes you’ve yet to encounter.

You are a strong and courageous woman.

I believe in you.

Perseverance

We were not put on this earth to live a life that travels down an easy road. Traveling down a path always leading in the right direction may be something many of us could only hope and pray to be given. Never feeling pain, never experiencing doubt, never questioning why can seem like a dream come true. Always having the map to properly guide us during our life-long journey seems adequately sublime.

But…

If this was the life we were continuously granted, would we be capable of enduring the travels of a difficult road? During a winding journey of pain, doubt, and questions, would we thoroughly be able to complete our journey with a better understanding of the life around us and ourselves?

Absolutely not.

For a while there, it seemed like everything was falling into place for me. Everything was easy. Any question that I may have had was always answered, and doubts never crossed my mind. I was concerned with my happiness. I was concerned with my well-being. I was concerned, ultimately, with just myself. Though I was caring regarding others, I was undeniably selfish and uncontrollably incapable of being humble.

Sadly, things I had endured previously may have prepared me to overcome slight threats. However, what was about to knock me down was strong enough to overshadow what I originally believed I could endure.

I was not invincible.

In November 2005, I developed what I believed was the flu. Fast forward six and a half weeks and my body tried to give up the fight. Six and a half weeks being void of any nutrition. Six and a half weeks being incapable of functioning as a normal human being.

Six and a half weeks…

45 days…

1,080 hours…

64,800 minutes…

3,888,000 seconds…

Introduced me to a life of perseverance.

I remember the events leading up to the introduction of life-long perseverance like it was yesterday. I was going through my day-to-day routine as any other 20 year old would do: I was constantly wishing Friday would come sooner rather than later, constantly whining about exams or the amount of time it took to study, wondering why coffee could not come as freely as water, hoping that work would become more fulfilling, and always looking for the snooze button every morning seeking five more minutes. Through it all, I was able to pride myself in being optimistic and knowing that, eventually, Friday would be here, graduation was in the not-so-distant future, somehow somewhere, a coffee tower would form allowing coffee to come from a faucet, a newer more fulfilling job would be acquired, and five more minutes would be an afterthought.

These thoughts, however, soon escaped from my mind.

The inability to keep anything in my body was overwhelming. I honestly believed I had developed the flu which infuriated me since I had received my flu shot that year. However, two and a half weeks of constant turmoil of being void of food, water, nutrients swept through my body resulting in an indescribable pain.

Sadly, hearing that things only get worse before getting better is quite accurate.

I lost hearing out of my left ear.

I lost sight out of my left eye.

I began having issues forming coherent sentences and thinking clearly.

I lost feeling from the waist down resulting in dragging my limp, near lifeless body across the floor of my third story apartment.

Thinking I could alleviate whatever was going on with me by taking a hot bath soon became a worthless assumption. After dragging my body from my living room into the bathroom, running the bath water, and pulling myself from the floor, and somehow, managing to throw myself in the bath made me feel like I had completed a lifetime of marathons.

I was terrified.

I was confused.

I felt hopeless.

Alone.

My last memory was looking down at my legs to see the blisters from the heat of the bath water I could not feel.

I do not remember the ambulance ride to the hospital. I do remember, however, talk of a potential overdose, stroke, or seizure but was incapable of answering questions. With numerous MRIs, CT scans, five lumbar punctures, blood work, tears, confusion, hopelessness, and anger, I was told the unthinkable.

“From this day forward, your life is going to change. You may not understand it now, but one day you will know the true reason behind the struggles and adversities you face. Desireé, you have Multiple Sclerosis.”

Emerging from the news, I discovered what had been stolen from me: I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t hear out of my left ear. I could barely see. I couldn’t feel from the bottom of my ribs down to my feet. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t zip up my jeans. I couldn’t button a shirt. I couldn’t write. I couldn’t hold a utensil. I couldn’t unscrew a bottle cap. I couldn’t remember my birthday, my middle name, where I lived, what I was going to school for.

Everything was gone.

I could, however, feel pain. I could feel the excruciating burning sensation in my extremities. I could hear the siren-like ringing in my ear. I could feel the sensation of being crushed by a boa constrictor if I tried to breathe. I could feel my body trying to give up if I sat up in bed or when I put on a shirt because of the fatigue.

Fast forward a couple of years, add 27 different medications, the strongest steroids one could find, 9 MS relapses, hair loss, the disappearance of self-worth…

Years of struggle.

Years of uncertainty.

Years of doubt.

Years of terror.

Prepared me for something much greater.

There were multiple times when giving up seemed easy. When shutting down seemed like a dream come true. When walking (or rolling) away seemed like a blessing. When closing my eyes and wishing for everything to end seemed normal.

However, I had developed a mindset that consisted of yelling at myself if I couldn't do something then trying until I could eventually do it. Walking, running, talking, forming coherent sentences, giving myself a shot, typing, buttoning shirts, zipping pants, opening a car door, unscrewing bottle caps, taking a shower...everything - even if it took me hours, even if it hurt, even if the frustration was so immense that I sobbed like a child while doing it, I still did it.

There were countless times that praying for my life to be over ended in a screaming match with myself because opening my eyes proved that I was still there. I had finally decided that the life I was given, the struggles I endured, the adversities I faced, and the tears I had cried were preparing me for my ultimate journey. I was being prepared for something much greater than even I could imagine, and I decided to hold on and travel along this journey with my eyes open.

My life-long journey of perseverance, though merely just beginning, has shown me that giving up, shutting down, or walking away may seem easy. I was not given this life to travel along an easy path. I was given this life to show others that what may seem like the end is really an updated map to guide us along the path we are being prepared for and meant to be on.

More importantly, our perseverance radiates to others. It is our job as parents, as leaders, as mentors, as friends, as brothers, as family to take the hand of those who beg to give up and show that giving up may be easy, but the ultimate test is to continue moving forward. Tackling our fears, our doubts, and our questions are never easy. Coming through these fears, doubts, and questions to the other side ultimately proves that we are capable of more than what we originally believed and shows that we are, absolutely, being prepared for something much greater.

Fast forward nearly eight years of the introduction of my life of perseverance:

Now, instead of giving up, instead of allowing something to take over me, instead of constantly questioning why, I use my experiences, my hopes, and my drive to move forward to help others. Now, I find myself better capable of empathizing with others and being the support they desperately need.

I was told I wouldn't walk normally again? No, I walk perfectly, and it is very uncommon for someone to physically see that I am enduring Multiple Sclerosis.

I was told I wouldn't be able to finish school? No, I earned my bachelor's a year and a half ago and am going back for my master's in September.

I was told that I would be forever required to be on medication to sustain myself? No, I've been away from MS therapy for nearly two years and am healthier now than I was over two years ago.

I was told that I wouldn't be able to have a lasting relationship? No, I'm with a man who celebrates my triumphs and picks me up when I fall.

I was told that my life was over? That's just funny.

It’s easy to give up. It’s easy to shut down. It’s easy to walk away.

It’s difficult beyond measure to stand up, fight, and continue moving forward to reach our ultimate goals. Persevering through what seems to be easy will, ultimately, allow others the opportunity to stand up, fight, and move forward by example.