In February we got a date confirmed for the mid-face advancement procedure and an official countdown began. My emotions were strapped in tight on the scariest roller coaster you could ever imagine. Most of the time I would be okay to function normally, participate socially, smile freely. But underneath the surface my nerves were shot.
My health suffered. I felt like a failure as a mom because there were so many moments I had to lock myself in my room to cry. The stress took a toll on my body and I bounced around from doctor to doctor begging someone to figure out why I felt like a 36 year old woman trapped in an 85 year old's body.
And yet time didn't stop, May 19th still steadily approached.
As someone with a type-A personality, always wanting to plan things and control the outcomes, the unknowns that surrounded the major procedure my 9 year old son was going to undergo left me feeling completely out of sorts. I found a wonderful therapist who was worth every penny, but even that was no match for the craziness that swirled about my head on a daily basis. I used to be someone who kept a clean house, stayed on top of the laundry, meal-planned and cooked healthy dinners several nights a week. Someone who loved to write. Someone who felt pretty confident in her abilities to be a decent mom and manage the chaos that is mothering 4 boys under 10.
In April, we went on spring break with a group of friends. For the second year in a row we had 14+ kids and 12 adults sharing a large beach house. It was totally crazy and definitely fun, but every second felt like I was watching it happen through the lens of "what-ifs". Every photo I took of the boys playing carefree in the sand was snapped with a lump in my throat and the gruesome thought "what if this is the last time we are on the beach together as a family of 6".
My friend Cara happens to be an amazing photographer so when I asked if she would take our family photos that year in Destin, she happily obliged. I remember applying makeup to my sunburned face and having to put my mascara on last because of the tears I cried thinking that these would be the last professional pictures we would have as a family before Aiden's surgery. The last photos we would have of Aiden the way he was then. My mind raced, "What if these were the last family pictures with Aiden we had...ever?"
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| Photo Credit: Caroline Couture Photography |
May began and we tied up loose ends. Everyone rallied around our son with Super Aiden t-shirts, care packages and lots and lots of visits with friends and family. And then, on a sunny morning in mid-May, we said our good-byes, kissed the other boys and piled in the car careening towards the biggest unknown of all. "What if Aiden doesn't come home?"
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Handing him over was still just as difficult as it always is. Ricky and I sat silently in the family waiting room but our hearts spoke through the worry on our faces. "Please let him come back to us."
In just 4 short hours the surgery was complete and although we still had several weeks of enduring the RED device, my biggest fear subsided. I started to breathe again. He was okay. We were going to be okay. The first few weeks were the hardest. He was sad, not himself. Who could blame him. When he began doing cannonballs into the pool we knew we would make it through this too. The days were slow but the weeks flew by and before we knew it we were heading back to Dallas for the removal of the device. The final weight to be lifted off our shoulders.
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Adjusting to Aiden's new look was slow at first. We had so many mixed emotions as we stared at a boy who looked one way 8 weeks earlier and totally different now. He bounced back quickly and had a new sense of confidence which made it easier for us to accept the change.
It wasn't long after things settled down that I finally took time to care for myself. I was eventually diagnosed with Hashimotos thyroiditis, an autoimmune disease that affects the function of your thyroid. I had been on medication for hypothyrodism for years but the underlying issue was (and may have always been) Hashimotos. With a clearer diagnosis, a new endocrinologist, some new medication and significant diet changes, I started on the right path to feeling better.
Although the surgery was behind us, I think I underestimated the time it would take for my mind and heart to heal. For many more weeks, months even, I felt like I was treading water, never able to make it to the edge for a break. I wasn't drowning anymore, but I was definitely still having trouble keeping my head above the splashes that even just a back to "normal" life surrounds you with.
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| My 2017 "Best Nine" photos from Instagram (the pictures with the most "likes"). Clearly indicates what our biggest event from this year was! Visit @MoreSkeesPlease on Instagram to follow our family. |
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Looking back, this entire year has mostly been a blur. There were so many good moments - wonderful friends that lifted our family up in ways that I'll never quite be able to adequately express gratitude for. Family who literally put their lives on hold to help us sort ours out. And the overwhelming relief of a successful surgery and smooth transition from Aiden before the RED to the new Aiden after the RED.
My strength and resolve was tested for sure, but with the love from those closest to us and even the support from complete strangers who prayed for a little boy they have never met, I'm happy to say I have found a renewed faith in God. My mind feels clear and my heart at ease. I am ready to take on 2018. Oh so grateful for the both the valleys and the peaks. Oh so grateful for this crazy beautiful life.
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