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3 different single mamas; 3 different stories. We invite you to join us in the triumphs and failures as single mothers! Let’s lift each other up! We would love your feedback, and we encourage you to share your stories.
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A Single Moms Vent

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Showing posts with label surgery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label surgery. Show all posts

Monday, March 12, 2018

I Could Have Died But I Didn't #2

So everyone has the one time in their life that they think "Geez, I really could have died." Well I could have died pulling walking to the mailbox and tripping over my own feet and cracking my head open but that never happened. I'm just saying, everyone gets at least one of those oddball stories.
Y'all, I have tons. Most of them are from driving in Houston, because let's face it... the driving lessons must have slipped their minds before getting behind that wheel.
My number one was my most recent surgery back in February of 2017. Now if you read my first ever post, this would be my second tumor removed out of my head. I think I've got this surgery thing down by now. You see a ton of doctors and get lots of MRIs and tests and blood work, and ohhh the paperwork. I sign my name so fast it doesn't look like a name. It doesn't resemble a letter. 
Okay. Back to the point. So this tumor is right next to my pituitary gland and optical nerves and major arteries... here. You can watch a video.
Gross right? So mine was bigger and more complicated because they had to go in the same hole they drilled through the last time and they weren't 100% sure I'd make it out at my 100%. I'm pretty stubborn and my kids need me so I did. So here's the skinny, I was in recovery and my son came in just to see me. I was not letting him see me like that. So what did I do? Selfie!

Yes. Against everyone telling me to lay down and I was too drugged out to even be awake, I set up and showed my son that I was okay. That's what moms do.
So my little anxiety ridden son left that day with a lot less stress about me and more stress about going home without me.
So, after my fair share of torture in the neuro ICU (just kidding, Houston Methodist is amazing) I'd had my fill of hearing the crying and the smells of God knows what I was smelling cause it was NOT coming from me. They checked to see if I could stand up, and I did. They just stared at me like I was a freak of nature. I was like, cool. Can I go home now? No such luck. They don't let you leave a day after brain surgery. BUT I can can talk them into three. I was in my own room, walking myself to the restroom, moving around like an old lady... slightly nauseated. I had to get out of there. My kids needed me. So day THREE: I was outta there. Bruised. Alive.


Wednesday, June 10, 2015

My long story... shorter.

Go ahead. Take a look back at your early twenties when you could go out with friends, stay up all night, go on a midnight run to the grocery store for ice cream… ahhh, wasn’t that nice? I didn’t have that. I was one of those girls that got pregnant at 19 years old. I remember all of the comments from friends and family regarding my options. As a hot political topic, I’m not going there. I’ll just tell you that I was a mom by 20 years old. I went through pregnancy like a “champ” meaning- I was throwing up the entire time. My son came into this world swinging. He was so tiny, jaundice and other things kept him in the ICU for 2 weeks. I sat there by his side alone, with few visitors to check on us. He came home with what some moms know as “cholic” and I only know as the end of sleep as I knew it. I thought I was going to completely lose my mind. I called a “mommy” neighbor at one point just begging her to get him to stop crying. His father went POOF!

Let’s walk a few years down the road, a few random jobs later, and WOW! Meet my new dream-come-true. What a perfect guy! He’ll be a great father to my son. I can’t even tell you how many times I heard “Oops, I did it again” in my head those first few months of hanging my head over the toilet or nearest trash can. Don’t get me wrong, this guy really tried. But let’s be honest, not many guys in their early twenties want a ready-made family.
I packed what I could fit in my car, and drove 5 states over to my mom. I needed help. She was the one that took me to the hospital when I went into labor a month early. She was the one that carried my sleeping son out of the delivery room as I brought my sweet little girl into the world. My daughter is the fighter in this family. She wasn’t even 5 lbs when I brought her home. Just to brag, I drove myself home from the hospital and picked up my son from school on the way.
From then on, I truly recognized that I was a single mom of two children. I had to get my act together! My mom helped when she could, but I was back to finding my career as soon as my daughter was old enough for child care. So I did. I went from the bottom of the totem pole to bursting at the seams with creativity. I had a house, a career, a car with a nice crack in the windshield… I did it. I was doing what every single mom could hope for, right up to the day that I realized those random headaches I was having decided to stick around.
Within 3 months of seeing a neurologist to my pre-operation MRI, my brain tumor had doubled in size. I had to update my Last Will and Testament, make plans for my children if I landed in that worst case scenario, and take time to write letters to my young children. There’s something in writing a letter to your own child that can either rip you to shreds… or make you leave that hospital as soon as possible. So, I went with the second option. To the astonishment of friends and family, and complete strangers for that matter, I left the hospital after having a tumor removed from the center of my head after only 3 days. My mom drove me home that day. That was 8 months ago. I didn’t tell my kids why I was having surgery and that it wasn’t that serious. “Mommy will be just fine.” My sisters were all there for me during that crucial time, older themselves, taking on the responsibilities of parenting my kids.
I have faced some pretty serious situations over the last 11 years. I’m 31 years old now, with an 11 year old son and 6 year old daughter! I thought I had this down pat. I can handle anything thrown my way! That all ended the moment my dear son asked me the words I never thought I’d hear. “Mommy, why don’t I have a real dad? Why can’t I have a dad?” WHAM! Instantaneous migraine with a huge side of heartache.
How do you respond to questions like that? I could play the jealous card with, “Aren’t I enough?” or I could play the “Maybe one of these days…” I could have even said, “There are so many other kids without dads, and you’ll be just fine.” Silence. I sat there on my bed with my son staring at me with questioning hazel eyes and I couldn’t spit out one word that could even begin to comfort him in the way he could understand or deserved for that matter.
Since I heard those questions, and after a long hug to tell him goodnight, I have done nothing but reach out to other moms for advice. I have come full circle with the knowledge that I don’t know a single person that has a child without a father or father figure. I know they exist, but I just don’t know one.
I am now the single mom that can’t fix everything. I don’t have the answer, or even a smart comeback, to everything. So, here are two questions for you to contemplate on for a while:


  • What would you tell an 11 year old boy after he asks for a dad? 
  • When your children are grown and on their own, and you end up married to a wonderful husband, will you still consider yourself as a single mom?