difficult subjects

The Facts Of Life

Posted on April 9, 2016 Written by Tonya

I haven’t blogged all year.

There have been 100 days in 2016 and I haven’t posted a single thing.

Until today.

I write to process and over the last two weeks there has just been too much.

So today I have to write.

On March 29 my good friend, Shane, from both high school and college, found out that his seven year old son, Hollis has DIPG (Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma), an inoperable and incurable cancer. Shane is one of the nicest people I have ever met and his family does not deserve this.

No family does.

The Doherty family faith is unwavering and their support system immense. If there is a God, I hope he’s listening to the thousands of family and friends praying for this precious little boy.

To learn more about this amazing family, watch this from Fox 10 Phoenix: Valley boy battles rare form of brain Cancer.

I created this simple graphic using the app A Beautiful Mess and it warms my heart to see it all over Facebook.

Three days later one of Todd’s former colleagues lost her long battle to cancer.

We then discovered my dear father-in-law was hospitalized while vacationing in China with an pneumonia. Luckily, he made it home safely yesterday, but as we waited for news from around the world as to whether or not his team of doctors were going to allow him to travel, we heard my sister’s fiancé’s mother’s cancer is back. She has a grueling treatment ahead of her.

The next day we learned the sad news that another friend’s father had died.

Death and illness are all part of life, I get that but we have had our fair share of bad news lately and when it keeps coming day in and day out, it’s difficult for me to wrap my head around each blow.

It’s cruel.

When bad things happen it forces me to stop and take inventory and appreciate all the goodness in my life. And to be fair, there was a lot of goodness in the last two weeks too.

My brave friend, Anna gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, Andrew Luke! Her story is absolutely incredible and this baby is already so loved. Back in September, 2014, I shared a review of her book, Rare Bird here: Loss is Loss is Loss.

After months and months of planning, my sweet friend and now business partner (!), Nichole and I launched our social media consulting business, Take Flight. We are over the moon and can’t wait to see where this new venture takes us. We already have three clients and two proposals in the works!

Despite a lot of together time and several rainy days stuck indoors, we survived Spring Break and a quick sun-filled get-away to Palm Springs! Nothing makes me happier than seeing this boy smile and he knows exactly how to make me put just about everything into perspective.

Spring Break 2016 Day 5/9 – La Quinta

I suppose, you take the good, you take the bad, right?

Warts & Body Image – NaBloPoBo

Posted on November 9, 2015 Written by Tonya

My son has warts.

They are located in four of the nail beds of his fingers and other various places on his hands, sprinkled across the bridge of his nose, above his top lip and along one side of his jawbone. In all he has close to 50. You have to know what you’re looking for to even see them. Some are flat and some are raised.

Warts do not harm a child’s health and often go away on their own.

Lucas’s warts aren’t grotesque and they don’t bother him in the least bit. At least they didn’t until this summer when he mentioned something to his dad about having them removed.

This broke my heart.

At his six year wellness check up I spoke to his pediatrician about remedies and she referred us to a pediatric dermatologist.

Doctors remove warts in several different ways:

Immunotherapy treatment, which uses the patient’s own immune system to fight the warts. One type involves injecting candida to the largest 2-3 warts present creating a mild allergic reaction to occur. This reaction may cause the warts to go away. This treatment can take 3-5 visits 3-4 weeks a part before results are seen.
Freezing with liquid nitrogen, a more potent medicine than found in over-the-counter freezing remedies and can be very painful.
Applying a prescription-strength salicylic acid nightly.
Taking a twice daily pill for up to three months.
Laser surgery. A last resort due to scaring.

We have been to the dermatologist four times, opting for the first course of treatment and so far we have seen zero results, in fact, there are possibly more warts than before. Sigh. Warts are known to quickly spread.

I’m frustrated but have tried to be careful not to express it.

Lucas is frustrated. He dislikes the shots, can’t understand what the “big deal” is, despises doctor offices in general and like me, wishes to see results.

One of our appointments was during school hours and although he only missed an hour, he was distraught. I’ve been able to make all other appointments after school hours.

At our last appointment, he completely lost it.

I haven’t seen this boy cry in weeks.

Big huge crocodile tears poured from his eyes uncontrollably from the moment we were escorted to the examination room until we walked across the parking lot and returned to our car to go home.

He struggled with his words and couldn’t articulate himself.

I was beside myself. This is the worst part of parenting, seeing your child in pain and not being able to do a damn thing about but hold him and wipes away his tears.

In this moment, with the doctor and her medical assistant staring at me, searching for answers and Lola carrying on for her Grover doll we had left in the car and wanting my phone and no doubt confused by seeing her big brother in pain, I was reminded how little my boy still is.

He’s only six.

He has no way of knowing at six that someday, if we don’t start treatment now, these warts may be the reason why he won’t hold someone’s hand. I also never want Lucas to experience negative comments and hurtful teasing about the way he looks from classmates and peers. This would crush him.

Even after we were safely in the car and it was just us and he had calmed down a little, he couldn’t talk to me about his feelings. I can only assume it was a culmination of things.

I was also reminded that we haven’t had a single body image discussion with this child. He’s too young. His body is going to grow and change in so many ways over the next 10 years that I just thought we’d wait until some of those changes started to occur before we brought them up. How native. Of course if he asks questions; why do you wear make up, why do you eat salad, why do you pluck your eyebrows, etc. we answer.

My husband and I both exercise regularly and promote physical activity from a health and longevity aspect, but haven’t covered physical appearances with him.

It’s time.

Or maybe not.

Incidentally, we have decided no more injections and no more doctors. We are going to try a nightly cream and hope for the best.

Oh, parenting why must you be so hard?

Do you discuss body image with your child(ren)? Also, if you have dealt with warts, please share any tips you may have!

Frozen: Six Options

Posted on August 16, 2015 Written by Tonya

My six-year-old son doesn’t remember hanging out with me for countless hours in our fertility doctor’s waiting room.

Much more patient than I ever was, I might add.

He doesn’t recall the separate, much smaller waiting area for patients who already have children.

He has no memory of the kind nurses, physician’s assistants, lab technicians, doctors or receptionists who knew him by name, gushed over his long eyelashes and offered him lollipops every time he visited.

He doesn’t recollect his father administering the twice daily shots of progesterone in the fleshy part of my hips or the heparin shots I’d give myself in my belly or the handful of pills I would take as we practiced his counting.

I’m grateful that Lucas doesn’t remember our struggle to give him a sibling, but I do. Just like it was yesterday.

And when he wistfully asks when I am going to have another baby, my heart aches and I am taken aback.

There are also times when it is just the two of us and his little sister is being cared for so we can do “big kid stuff” and he’ll announce unabashedly, “I really love Lola but I am so glad she isn’t with us right now”. Once again, my heart aches and I am taken aback.

It is no secret that our daughter, Lola is an IVF baby.

A miracle baby.

But aren’t they all?

After struggling with secondary infertility for over three years; having six miscarriages, countless failed natural cycles, IUIs and one failed IVF, our second attempt at IVF worked!

Of the five eggs retrieved, three fertilized but only two were good after PGD (pre-implantation genetic diagnosis).

A boy and a girl.

The girl became Lola.

The other embryo is still frozen.

Typically two embryos are transferred increasing the odds of conception or attaching to the uterine wall, but in my case, my fertility doctor’s statistics were better with patients with my history and age to only transfer one embryo.

All it takes is one!

Thinking pessimistically, I thought we would fail again and try to use the second one right away, but instead we succeeded!

We were lucky.

And now we have an embryo on ice.

The boy.

It costs roughly $350 per year to store.

We have six options and please trust that this is a deeply personal decision, a moral and ethical decision and there is so much more to each and every one of these options than what I have shared here. It is weighting heavily on my mind and heart and so I write about it. Because that is what works for me.

I’m also not looking for advice or a solution.

It will come to us, my husband and I.

In time.

Throughout this process, I realize that the further away from my fertility struggle I get, it is still there, front and center, ready for access.

Six Options:

1. Transfer. It works and we go from a family of four to a family of five. Of course, I just turned 43 and my husband is already 43 and our family feels perfect just the way it is. This option also involves a heavy dose of fertility medications and doctors visits throughout the pregnancy. Due to my age, I’m already considered high-risk and given my struggles in the past, I will see a perinatologist beginning at 12 weeks, if not sooner. A very small price to pay for an addition to our family, but must be considered nonetheless. Can my body go through all that again? I still have bruises from my pregnancy with Lola, who is a year and a half! Are we naive to think everything will work out as well? And let’s say we make it full term, what would our family of five look like? What if this third child needed additional care of one sort or the other? So many questions.

2. Transfer. It doesn’t work and we grieve the loss and move on the best way we can.

3. Donate. We know the fertility struggle all too well and would love to help a couple or family have a child or another child. Sounds simple enough and completely altruistic, but dealing with the fact that our “son” is out there somewhere could be more than we can bear.

4. Put the embryo up for adoption. Yes, you really can do this, but again see above. Plus, I doubt either of us could ever accept payment for our embryo.

5. Discard. At this moment in time, time option is out of the question. I simply do not have the heart or strength for this. And I probably never will.

6. Store. Continue paying storage fees until the end of time.

Option 6 it is.

For now.

We have decided to table our decision for six months.

According to the National Embryo Donation Center, an estimated 600,000 unused embryos are currently frozen in clinics throughout the country.

Last year, doctors at IVF clinics performed more than 165,000 treatments — more than ever before.

Conversations About Kindergarten

Posted on July 16, 2014 Written by Tonya

It’s already starting.

I can physically feel him slowly pulling away from me, needing me less and less.

I knew it would happen. Not at five, but eventually.

Lucas, what are you looking forward to about your new school?

Making new friends.

Anything else?

Having a new teacher.

Are you feeling nervous at all?

No.

You know it’s a much bigger school then the one you are used to and while the teachers will help you, it’s okay to feel nervous.

I know.

And you can talk to Mommy and Daddy about any feelings you’re having, good or bad. It’s perfectly normal to be nervous when you go someplace you’ve never been before with people you’ve never met before.

I know. At least Katherine and Colby will be there.

True.

Do you think I’ll be able to take the bus?

Um, that might be an option. [Thinking: NOT A CHANCE IN HELL!] You don’t want Mommy to drop you off and pick you up each day?

Yeah, but I also think it would be nice to walk in all by myself.

Audible painful sigh. Can sighs be painful?

Well, why don’t we talk to Daddy and see what he thinks. It’s always good to diffuse/put off/rely on the other parent in times like these, no?

Okay.

To date, this has to be one of the most crushing things I’ve heard come out of my son’s mouth. Crushing and true.

He’s growing up, my little boy.

My five-year-old.

My kindergartner.

He wants to take the bus! Eek!!

Growing up is easy, it’s the letting go that’s hard.

I Was Attacked

Posted on October 9, 2013 Written by Tonya

It’s strange how with age, memories of my youth come back to me in waves.

Vivid memories, snippets of conversations I had dozens of years ago and events down to the detail replay in my mind.

Both good and bad memories occupy space in my head.

One memory I’ll never be able to shake is triggered from time to time and although it’s a part of my past and I’d rather keep it there, never to be recalled again, I know writing about it will help. And sadly, I know I’m not the only one that this has happened to.

26 years ago, just before my fifteenth birthday I was attacked by a fellow classmate.

I was living in Banjul, The Gambia in West Africa at the time. My parents worked at the American International school that I was attending. There were fewer than 200 students in the entire K-9 school, it was a very close-knit ex-pat community.

I had invited him and a dozen other friends to my birthday party. We were at a discotheque at a hotel. The song, “Casanova” by Levert was playing when I left the dance floor.

He followed me into the women’s restroom in the lobby of the hotel, stared at me over the stall and then by the time I had tucked in my aqua tank top and zipped up my white pants to vacate, knowing that this scenario was wrong, he pushed me back into my stall and wrapped his hands around my neck causing me to pass out.

He didn’t say a word.

When I came to, my pants were undone and his hands were groping me.

I lost my mind.

I have no idea how long I was out.

I screamed, I yelled, I clawed at him and chased him out of the bathroom and across the lobby.

I picked up a heavy glass ashtray and threw it at him. It shattered on the marble floor.

I was like a rabid dog out for blood.

I was 14. I had never been touched my anyone that way before.

He acted like I was crazy and the hotel staff was bewildered. Security officials eventually stepped in and escorted him off the property. At the time, I didn’t realize that was the least of my concerns. Come Monday, I’d have to see him in school. There were only seven other students in my class so there would be no avoiding him.

The hand marks around my neck turned red and scabbed by the next morning. I told my parents what had happened. I stayed home from school on Monday and cried most of the day. My father, the principal of the school spoke to him and his father, an apology was made, but never to me directly, our desks were moved as far a part from one another as possible and I was never left alone with him again.

I realize what happened to me was attempted rape and had we been in this country, he would have been charged with that.

Prior to the attack, he had repeatedly expressed a romantic interest in me and it was never reciprocated. We were friends. I didn’t ask for this. I wasn’t dressed provocatively (not that I even knew what that meant or was at the time, nor should it matter anyway), I had been drinking, but was by no means drunk. My memories of what took place that night are crystal clear.

A teenage boy took advantage of me and used his power for his sick pleasure and it has stayed with me for life.

This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop, Prompt 3. October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Inspired by Carol, a blog friend hosting a walk in honor of her daughter Shaniel who recently lost her life due to domestic violence.

Domestic violence or any other violence against women should not happen. Ever. Period.

If you or someone you love is being abused, please contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE).

My attack was not by definition considered domestic violence, but violence nevertheless.

I am also linking up with Shell’s Pour Your Heart Out.

Hold On My Heart

Posted on July 22, 2013 Written by Tonya

Hold on my heart

We can do this.

There have been high expectations.

We have fought the good fight. Repeatedly.

We’ve lost. Repeatedly.

Just hold on to that feeling

You have been cracked wide open, turned inside out and put back together again.

You have been brought to your knees with grief.

You have willed yourself to get out of bed in the morning; to just keep it together.

We both know we’ve been here before

The fortress is sky high around you.

But, I have to protect you.

Or do I?

Clam up, push, walk away, avoid confrontation; anything to prevent truly exploring the feelings.

I don’t want to talk about it.

I need to keep it safe, bottled up.

We both know what can happen

And where has it got me, all this careful protection?

Guarding my heart and closing up tight does not shield me from being hurt. In fact, it does just the opposite.

There is no way to insulate from pain.

Hold on my heart

Pain is a regular part of life and if we love deeply and move through our life with conviction, determination and passion, we can be hurt deeply.

It’s a risk.

Throw me a lifeline

But a good one to take.

I can do this.

It’s going to be a bumpy ride, but I can definitely do this.

Hold On My Heart lyrics by Michael Rutherford, Phil Collins, and Tony Banks.

The Bad Stuff Can Wait

Posted on April 18, 2013 Written by Tonya

He doesn’t know about the Holocaust, 9/11, Columbine, Waco, explosions in Boston or West.

He believes guns are only for shooting the bad guys, although he doesn’t really understand the concept of “bad guys”.

Sandy is something he gets after a day at the park or beach not a devastating hurricane or the name of an elementary school in Virginia.

He knows his mommy and daddy can comfort him, although when he’s really apprehensive, like standing in line for his first (kid-friendly) roller coaster at Knott’s Berry Farm, his lovely does it best.

He doesn’t understand political smear campaigns, bullies or strangers.

He wants to be friends with everyone and upon meeting him for the first time, don’t be surprised if he invites you over for a play date.

He hears his mommy curse from time to time but doesn’t realize that words can be very harmful.

He sings the Thomas & Friends theme song with such conviction, it has become his own personal anthem.

He’s never heard of Ricin and to be honest, I hadn’t either until a couple of days ago.

He doesn’t know that there are children dying of starvation, children that don’t have fresh water to drink, shoes on their feet or beds to sleep in.

I believe he could live off peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (with the crusts cut off), pretzels and M&Ms.

He asks a lot of questions about how far away heaven is and why he can’t visit his Grandma and Grandpa Adams.

He loves to practice winking at me and writing his name; and has mastered Candy Land and Memory, especially when he gets to shuffle the cards.

He thinks when an airplane takes off, it always lands and a familiar face or exciting adventure awaits him.

He doesn’t know that evil exists and that bad things happen to good people for no reason whatsoever.

It’s a big bad scary world out there and I can only shelter my son for so long. I can only control what he hears and sees for so long. For now, I have all the answers, but soon I won’t. I want Lucas to learn about the world around him, the good, the bad and the very ugly, but first I want him to have a childhood; filled with only things that make him smile.

I look over at him now, sitting in the middle of our living room, surrounded by his cars and trusty lovely. He is watching a bright and colorful episode of Bubble Guppies and I think, the bad stuff can wait.

Five Hearts

Posted on April 14, 2012 Written by Tonya

I know I’ll never forget.

How could I?

And yet, I still felt a burning need to do something or rather have something to remind me and to acknowledge where we’ve been.

Something to commemorate the tears and heartbreak, my way of memorializing five lives that never came to be.

I bought the first one just before we started our last round of IVF, a process that we were certain would work.

I carried it with me everywhere, in my pocket or purse, always within reach. I carried it for luck and love, but most of all for hope.

When the process didn’t work, I wanted to throw it against the wall with all my strength and watch it shatter, like my own heart had.

Again.

Instead, I placed it in a box on my dresser and there it stayed.

Recently I added four more just like it because it has taken on a different meaning: what could have been.

Sometimes it is agonizing just knowing they are there, but they represent a very long and grueling journey that we have not yet completed.

They represent loss.

And peace.

My Body

Posted on March 21, 2012 Written by Tonya

My body is strong.

My body carries me and my body lets me down.

My limbs contort and stretch, pushing, pulling, reaching, carrying, holding.

I sit cross-legged along side my energetic little boy and move cars and trains around a track, help him with puzzle pieces, locate lost toys under the couch, stack blocks and build towers with Legos

I chase my son around the park and delight as I listen to his sweet laughter.

I lean over the bathtub and scrub away dirt and grim that has been collected during the day with a warm wash cloth.

I sing, dance, giggle and tickle.

I lift and cradle my precious boy every opportunity I get.

My body gains and loses and lifts weight. It sweats as I push it and I feel as though my heart might burst right out of it’s chest cavity.

My body makes me feel alive.

My lungs take in fresh sea air as I walk along the beach searching for calm and answers.

Mercifully at the end of each day, my body lets me rest peacefully.

The best thing my body has done, and the thing that I will forever be in awe of; was to allow me to carry a baby to term and deliver my son. For that, I will always feel empowered, important and grateful.

The worst thing about my body and the thing that makes me hate it; it refuses to let me do it again. Once so capable, it now struggles.

My body has let me down.

My body is strong.

Things They Can’t Say

Posted on November 4, 2011 Written by Tonya

I share a lot here but not everything and sometimes there is a post that is better suited for somewhere else.

It’s too raw and personal.

The last month of my life has been an emotional roller coaster and taxing physically as we just completed our second (unsuccessful) round of IVF.

Shell’s invitation to be on her site, Things I Can’t Say and featured in her series, Things They Can’t Say could not have come at a better time!

Please follow me there to read about a time I just had to see my husband…

Comments are closed on this post, come visit me at Shell’s!

The Facts Of Life

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Warts & Body Image – NaBloPoBo

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Frozen: Six Options

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Conversations About Kindergarten

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I Was Attacked

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Hold On My Heart

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The Bad Stuff Can Wait

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Five Hearts

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My Body

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Things They Can’t Say

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