Mermaid Soul

When I close my eyes, I go to the peaceful, beautiful underwater world at the lake. It’s dark and mysterious, the lake floor just deep muck squishing between my toes as I push off to surface like a dolphin, emerging just to take a breath before going back down, being engulfed by the water. You can hear the motor of boats before you see them, it is a soft, rhythmic stutter that comes and goes with the small waves. I could swim like that all day, every day and never be tired of it.

And then I’m in the clear, pure water in the rivers I swam in as a child, always searching for treasures in the slippery rocks under my feet, daring to go a bit farther, a bit deeper, conquering the current, being one with the water. There’s moss beneath my feet, the rocks I hit with my knees, and the little pinchers of crayfish. I find the deepest part and disappear for as long as my lungs will let me, sometimes swimming away and seeing if my family noticed how long I was gone, if they worried at all, other times just sinking into the water and just being one with it, listening, feeling the cold water and the hot sun, washing my problems away, down the river they go, I am at peace.

Chlorine. Salt. Sweat. The pool, the water I spent so much time in, practicing my strokes, competing, loving and hating it at the same time. I always seemed to tire before others, my heart rate was always higher, and even when I took my inhaler, I couldn’t breathe, but still, it was my passion. Summer mornings diving into the cold, cold pool, a shocking wake up call for swim team practice, back and forth, often toe to finger close to the person before me, the person behind me. When swimming for fun, not practicing, I will disappear under the water, swimming without coming up to take a breath, going deeper and deeper, testing out my lungs, happy and at ease.

One day I’m going to be free of central lines and feeding tubes and I’m going back to the water. I’ll live on the lake, I’ll travel and see the incredible beauty of the underwater world through my own eyes, scuba diving, snorkeling, swimming with dolphins, maybe hippos too – just no snakes. ☺ I can’t wait to return to my life as a mermaid, feeling the water, seeing the beauty, feeling no pain, just peace and happiness, such simple things.

These memories are worth gold, they’re what I need to have faith and they inspire me to make my dreams come back to reality. A piece of my soul belongs in the water, the thought of return comforts me when I need an escape, being my happy place when I need to disappear, and gives me hope and drive to find my way through my trials and back to my underwater world.

Adventures of Mummy & Her Little Tubie

I’m excited to share a post written by one of our Newbie Tubie Mamas who is the mama of a little tubie and agreed to share a bit of her journey with us! This is a great opportunity to read a bit about raising a tubie from the perspective of the mother…

“There were times I’d sit and wonder how the hell we were going to get through this, how can we live like this forever not being able to feed our baby who’s starving and also failing to thrive anyway so needs every bit of milk he can get.

Our little man is now 8 months and has all of his nutrition via a feeding tube. Some days your baby’s screaming for milk and you can’t feed him because you can’t get the right aspirate – this could take us hours. It does get easier I promise!

I’m very lucky my husband is amazing with our children. He’s definitely the more practical thinker and I go into full research mode and sit and think what if. I have managed to tone down the googling – my husband made me promise I’d only google it if the doctor had spoken about it or it was in one of his reports and that really does help. Your then looking at specific information rather than a whole load of case stories of children who have completely different medical histories. I do find that being prepared helps my mental health, but only if I’m preparing for the real thing, not something from google that ends up being way far off from what’s really going on.

It also helps that he’s a very hands on Dad so I know when I’m in hospital with our youngest that the others are safe and happy at home with their Dad who also manages to keep the house going while I’m away. They spend lots of time visiting us because at the moment they’d rather be with us at the hospital but when the time comes that they don’t want to do that anymore we will be respectful of this and put other plans in place.

Our children have been amazing, they find it really tough and it’s so important to remember that this isn’t easy on them, either. They’re young, but they see the complexity, they see when we are upset, they want to know, so we tell them what’s happening but also try and keep their lives as normal as you can. We try and make sure they get to all their clubs, they have friends for tea or we get them on days out as we would have done before.

Siblings are a great gift to our tubie, but we have to make sure that each child feels loved, appreciated, and individually important to us and to everyone. Each one makes a huge difference, is an inspiration, a source of strength and light and joy.

During feeds it can be difficult to pick your baby up without messing up the pump, kinking the tubing, or making your baby uncomfortable from the feeds, and as caretakers, moms especially, all you want to do is hold that sweet baby! There are often extra steps when doing these basic, instinctual habits, and when you’re a parents, that can be extremely frustrating and disheartening. Eventually, the medical supplies falling out of all of your closets and the tasks that come with tubes and chronic illnesses become part of your daily routines, it all just becomes second nature – scary thought, right?

It’s all about finding the right mindset, but you first have to almost grieve the life you thought you were going to have with your new baby. I cried for hours that I would loose that bond by holding him to feed him; I can assure you I was worrying over nothing our bond is stronger than ever! We still get plenty of cuddle time and when he’s feeding I’ll often sit next to his cot and hold his hand, play peekaboo or tickle him. There are lots of opportunities for bonding you just have to look for them.

I woke up one day and realized this was our life and we’ve got two choices we get on with it, build our little man up and hope one day he stops aspirating or we sit and sulk about it which gets you absolutely nowhere! Life doesn’t stop for a feeding tube, feeding tubes allow life to get going again, it allows children to BE children, it is just another way to feed your little one.”

-Hayley Smith

If you have any interest in guest posting, I’m always happy to share different perspectives and pieces from fellow writers 🙂 Email me/contact me through the blog if you want to talk about it 🙂

 

Willfully Determined

Yesterday I pushed myself to do more and to do different. I decided to be a 22 year old for a few hours, I just ignored the fatigue, took the pain meds, and went to back to back movies (7-11:30pm) with my sister, who didn’t think I could stay out late anymore. It was a gift to both of us to be able to spend that time together, just enjoying doing something that was so out of the norm.

Usually I sleep through 60-80% of movies anywhere we watch them, our basement, my room, the movie theater, other peoples houses… But last night I worked hard to stay awake, and I did a stellar job. My POTS/dysautonomia leaves my body unable to pump blood to my brain when I sit down for too long, so I fall asleep or pass out even if I’m loving a movie or having a great conversation with someone; but usually, if I move around or take a walk I start to feel much more human again and stay awake for at least 10-20 minutes 😉

My family asked me if I really had energy for this, and here is what I told them,

“No, I don’t have the energy, but this isn’t about energy.  This is about desire and determination.”

Sometimes I have to accept my symptoms, accept my situation, and make a choice to push past all of the exhaustion, pain, nausea, and sensitivities so that I can remind myself and those around me that I’m still me, and that there are still things out there, outside of my “safe zone” (aka my house and my room). Watching the world go on without you can be a very strange feeling, it’s like watching from an outside view, looking down on the life I thought would be mine and watching others continue on without me. The world doesn’t wait for anyone.

Recently I’ve been hearing a lot of “nothings” from doctors; some literally don’t have anything to say, don’t answer emails or calls or anything, others telling me they can’t take on my case or I’ve exhausted the options they can offer. It’s a lot of “keep you comfortable” and “manage symptoms.”

After so much of the same, I’m so tired of doctors and meds and tests or treatments that no one actually thinks will work. I want to live. I want to experience my youth, I want to really feel alive and I want to cross items off of my bucket list.

I want to travel and see incredible sites and take countless photos. I hope to visit all of the girls who I’ve met online, the ones who have helped me through these years of illness, and I want to meet new people, and fall in love. I want to get rid of these tubes so I can swim with dolphins and scuba dive, get as close to my mermaid dream as possible.

I have a lot of goals, and I may never accomplish all of them, but they make for some happy thinking & I never pass that up. 🙂