Four weeks ago, today actually, I was grabbing Andrew's lunch from the counter and suddenly was overcome with dizziness. I've had bouts of vertigo before, and assumed it was that and called my mom to have her come over and watch Owen since I knew I wouldn't be able to. By the time she got here though, a million other reasons were swirling in my head as to why I could be dizzy, one of which was a hopeful excitement - maybe baby Titus #2 was on the way! I called for a doctor's appointment and was seen later that morning.
I had a pregnancy test done at the doctors and lo and behold... it was negative. It was a long shot, but I was a bit sad - I really wanted this to be something good! Looking back, it was simply God's grace that it was not what I had been hoping for, or at least that it wasn't baby Titus #2 along with the real cause of the dizziness.
In brief overview of the following four weeks, my dizziness continued to become more and more debilitating. My mom and mother-in-law, as well as a couple of friends from church took shifts of watching Owen from the time Andrew left for work until he came home. I was slowly becoming even more exhausted, and even doing simple things like the laundry would wipe me out for the rest of the day. "Just pushing myself a little further" was not an option.
Throughout all of this I have felt certain that I was faking this and being a drama queen. Growing up, I was a complete hypochondriac and faked so many illnesses. No one would believe me, and they had good reason - I lied a lot. That being said, although I knew I was not the same girl as I was in elementary school, the fear of not being taken seriously or over dramatizing the situation plagued me.
What also plagued me was the feeling of being a terrible mama to my sweet baby. I sat on the couch 90% of the day and didn't play with Owen at all. Reading a board book to him winded me, and doing an airplane ride on my legs was nearly impossible. I've always struggled with believing I was a "good enough" mama and as the days progressed the condemnation and guilt piled higher and higher.
Fast forward to Tuesday. After weeks of doctors appointments, Ear Nose and Throat specialist appointments, hearing tests, CT scans and an insane amount of blood work, we don't have any idea what's going on. In God's amazing providence, I met with a gal who I met this year through a Bible study and she asked me about my symptoms. After I listed off a seemingly random assortment of what I had been experiencing she looked at me and said: "Oh girl, I think you have what I have: POTS."
I looked up the symptoms and realized she may actually be right.
Wednesday afternoon, after the two worst days of dizziness and racing heart and exhaustion yet, I called my doctor and she asked me to go to the ER. I hesitated. We just paid off my medical bills from last years trial of Post-Pardum Depression and there is no way we have it in the budget to pay more bills. Andrew gently assured me though, that God had been faithful to provide and would remain faithful. Eventually I agreed to go, and seven hours later the on-call neurologist was sitting at the end of my hospital bed.
"Well, I can't tell you with 100% assurance because we have one more test to confirm it, but my first, second, and third on the list of probabilities is that you have what's called Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. POTS for short."
So there it was.
I hadn't been faking. I wasn't being a drama queen. There was a reason.
I was ill.
Honestly I am not sure how much more I can type out right now, both because I am already completely exhausted from reading Owen two books this morning and singing him a song and typing this, but also emotionally drained and on edge.
There is not a cure for POTS. There are types of POTS that improve and go away over the course of several years. As it stands, the type I have seems to be the kind that doesn't. What does that mean? Aside from the hand of God moving either miraculously or through medical breakthroughs, I will be walking through the rest of my life with POTS. Until I see Jesus face to face in all of his glory, I will never be the same as I was a month and a half ago.
There are medications that will help me continue to function as close to normal as possible though. One problem - I cannot nurse Owen while on them.
So, with heavy pain and an ache I can't even begin to express, yesterday started cold-turkey weaning my sweet, sweet son. Praise Jesus that we had already started weaning gradually over the past couple of months, so instead of 5-8 times a day of nursing he was already down to 2-3 times. But these past 4 weeks have taken a toll on him. God's grace is that he loves playing with tons of people, but nursing was the one semblance of normal for him and I. It was our time to snuggle and to be close when everything else was topsy turvy.
Suffice it to say, I've been a wreck.
Through all of this though, I have no question in my mind that God was and is not shocked at the fact that I most likely have a chronic illness in which my Autonomic Nervous System misfires and functions abnormally.
My sobs of heartache for the confused child at my breast do not fall on deaf ears, but on ears that wept for Jerusalem.
My very slow process of beginning to mourn the idea of what I "should be" as a mama and wife, the idea of having another baby soon, and even going through my day without having someone else care for my child, make my meals, and clean my house is happening as my faithful Savior holds me close and wipes my tears and reminds me I am only defined by the Cross.
I would love prayers. Not only for myself but for my incredible husband who has been through hell and back with me and still loves me as tenderly as he did the day we were married. Also for Owen, that he would know without a shadow of a doubt my love for him, and that my ability to be able to run after him does not indicate my level of desire to be his mama. Also that the doctors would be able to move forward with treatment after my final test is complete.
I know that God is using this to draw me closer to him and I am so grateful for that assurance. I'm not okay with everything though, and I'm not sure I have to be quite yet. I'm not mad at God for allowing this to happen, but am grieved that it is happening. I am hopeful that things will get better, but I ache more for heaven than I ever have before.
I will try to update after I do the final test, but until then,
Sola Dei Gloria
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