My Birth Story & Why I will never elect for an epidural EVER again.

    *I haven’t posted this because I wanted to add photos to make this an easier read, but after seeing yesterday that a friend of mine also had this happen to them, I had to just hit publish. I’ll come back and add photos later. Done is better than perfect they say.*This is a (long) message to all my pregnant friends and all the ladies who will be pregnant one day. Also, before people want to object and tell me I’m crazy, please know that I KNOW everyone is different and has had great experiences with an epidural… and honestly, I am super freakin’ jealous of y’all right now you have no idea…

    When I gave birth to Beau, I chose to get an epidural. I gave myself no other option. I even joked to friends that they could put it in my forehead because I didn’t want to feel anything. Me and pain don’t mix. Never have and never will. Call me weak, call me lame, I don’t even care. I’m mad at myself and wish I could go back in time and elect for any other option than putting that catheter and needle into my back.
    Beau will be 9 months on June 2nd, and sadly, I have been dealing with a 24/7 excruciating/bloody murder type of lower back pain, as well as other annoying and awful symptoms…all due to that epidural since. Basically, I regret this decision every. damn. day.
    My story, and my experience…the good, the bad, the ugly…it’s all here. It’s a long one. BUT I’m hoping that I can help someone…anyone. I recently just saw that a fellow instagram friend in Paris is going through this exact same thing, so I wanted to get this out there NOW. I hope to encourage women to do more research before they did what I did…NOT RESEARCH AT ALL and not give myself the option of anything else.
    The other day I looked at Drew, while laying on a heating pad in the living room after a long day, and said, “Babe. Why do you think this happened to me? I didn’t ask from an “Please feel sorry for me, Why Me?” place. I asked from more of a “Why do you think God chose me to have this happen? He thought I was strong enough to go through this, but what purpose do you think this is serving?” When I restructured my thinking and that question, it became more apparent to me that I needed to share my story. Granted, what happened to me is very rare. Let me repeat that…VERY. RARE.  But! It happens. It’s happened. It’s happening. Did I think I would be one of the unfortunate ones? No. I didn’t. What I do know is that I am not here to scare anyone. I’m here to simply “educate” about my experience and just state that this does happen. Nobody talks about it. The more I have googled, “Back pain from epidural” the more forums I have found of women desperately looking for answers.. And Drew seems to think that if I tell my story, and I’m able to help one person not feel alone in this experience, or if someone can help me figure out how to fix this, then this season has a purpose.
    Back in November, I wrote a Facebook status about my situation. I was defeated, sad, and couldn’t help but think, “MAN! I wish someone would have warned me about the potential side effects, and long-term/life altering effects that an EPIDURAL could give you.” You always hear that it’s the miracle drug of childbirth. And rightfully so. It numbs you and makes labor much more tolerable. I get it. I was signed up, I was on board, and never second guessed my decision. To me, it felt like the decision was like if you had a headache…do you take the excedrin or do you just deal with it? Ya know? I have experienced kidney stones 4 times in my life, and I wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone. I wanted to be present in labor but not in pain. I also know that me and pain do NOT go together. I wanted my husband to be in a peaceful atmosphere. The poor guy was scared to death. Excited, but nervous, just like any eager Dad waiting to hold their baby. I wanted to be in a peaceful atmosphere. And every friend of mine that has had an epidural, spoke about how wonderful they were. I was SOLD. I had NEVER heard of a bad experience with an epidural.
    I’ve done so much research, I’ve been in physical therapy for months, I’ve literally tried everything. Medical bills are ruling my life, and I’m 9 months into this living nightmare. The more I look for answers online, the more Mom’s I have found that who have gone through this with NO answer. “Tough luck” and “sucks for you” is basically what kind of treatment you get. NOBODY KNOWS and NOBODY will admit that it was the catheter/epidural.  I’ve probably cried every day since giving birth because of this intense and EXTREME lower back pain. I just can’t even describe it. I can’t move certain ways. Everything I do is hard. I feel it at all times. Even laying down. There hasn’t been a minute of relief. Some days are better than others, but there are no days of relief.  My feet feel numb sometimes and tingle often and my rear end even feels numb most of the time. I have weird electric feelings in my head, mostly behind my eyes. It’s kind of like lightening strikes going through my head, and that makes me feel like my eyes are burning out of my head. This has triggered a deep depression, crazy anxiety (even more so than I have ever had), and now, PTSD. Thinking of having another baby makes me so uncomfortable. It terrifies me, and that is HEARTBREAKING for me. It shouldn’t be this way. It just shouldn’t.
    Okay, so, my story…Here we go!
    I was 40 weeks pregnant, 1 cm dilated, and miserable. (Said every pregnant woman, ever.) That was on the Friday of my due date (August 26th). I really wanted to go into labor naturally, and so I decided to basically burn my tongue off by eating all the pineapple on the planet, I walked and walked and walked (walked=waddled*), and tried everything but castor oil to get this baby out. But Mr. BBHP was nice and cozy. On Tuesday, I went in to get looked at, confident that I had progressed, and I was still at 1cm. I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to cry (Okay, I probably cried) and was just ready to meet my little man. I sound like every overdue pregnant woman on the planet, I know. They scheduled me to get induced on Friday, but I would go in on Thursday night. I didn’t want to get induced but I was assured I was in good hands and all was okay. Plus my Mom was freaking out because she took all of her vacation days off to help me with the baby, and this extra week cut into her days helping me postpartum. Ha! Anyway.
    On Thursday, everything felt surreal. I continued to walk that day in hopes I would go into labor naturally, and even hopped on a mechanical elephant at the outlet mall that 5 pound kids play on hoping that would kick start something. But nope.That wasn’t my proudest moment, I will say, lol but hey, I WAS DESPERATE!  All we got out of that was a good laugh! I am still surprised I didn’t break the thing.
    I showered, and remember choking up because of the nerves, butterflies and just knowing that I was about to finally meet my son. It didn’t feel real. (It still doesn’t!) Life was about to be so different, in all the best ways. My Mom, Drew and I went to Jason’s Deli, said a prayer in the parking lot, and headed into the hospital. I got all checked in, and they administered the pill that would soften my cervix over night.
    When I woke up in the morning, around 7 am, they checked me and I was at a 2. I remember saying, “WHAT THE HECK YAYA! LOOSEN UP WILL YA!?” That will be the first and last time I will ever say that. 🙂 At around 7:30, the nurse told me I could shower, and order breakfast. I started to feel a little bit of cramping, but it kind of felt like the first day of PMS. I was told that was a contraction, and I remember thinking, “Hey, that isn’t SO bad.” Little did I know what was to come. I ordered breakfast and was about to take a shower when the nurse told me that I couldn’t do either because the anesthesiologist was going to come in shortly to give me my epidural. I wasn’t even in a lot of pain yet, so I thought it was strange that I was getting it so early. But I guess he was a busy man, and they said there was a chance that he would be too busy later to give it to me. My Mom left the room to get a sandwich, and next thing I know, the needle man was rushing in the room, with an assistant/helper of some sort. The assistant raised my bed, and had me sit on the edge, with my back curved into a C. They never told me to be still. Thankfully I knew I needed to me still, but they never even told me when they were putting it in my back. All of the sudden, I heard the girl say, “Okay, here…and that’s when I felt my life change. And not in a good way. She placed a catheter into my back, and I could feel my nerves scream in agony. I wanted to jump through the roof. She asked me if I could feel it, and when I told her yes, that it hurt really badly, she was surprised.  She said, “Hmmm” and removed it. She then placed this catheter back in, and said, how is that? I said it still hurt. I basically wanted to scream all the curse words under the sun. Dummy ol’ me, didn’t even know that a catheter was supposed to be used during an epidural. I just thought it was a shot. But nope! The shot came SECOND.  A few seconds later, they put the needle in, I felt a substantial sting (this wasn’t even the worst part) and I just remember my back being on freaking fire. I could tell that something was hurting badly, but at the time, I thought that was “normal” and that it would go away later, after birthing Beau. I asked them how often to administer the drug, and they said whenever I wanted.
    That was that. Until about 30 seconds later…the room was spinning, people sounded faint in the background, and I was about to pass out. I told the nurse I didn’t feel well at all, and that I was going to fall over and pass out. She ran over and held me, called for another nurse, who then ran over with a drug, shot it into my IV and I felt much better. My blood pressure PLUMMETED like crazy. The nurse adjusted me back in the bed, and then about 30 seconds later, it happened again. My blood pressure went down so fast. It royally sucked. The nurse ran over, injected another IV of fenagrin or whatever it’s called, and my blood pressure rose back to a normal state.
    Five minutes later…it happened, AGAIN. Three freaking times. The nurse injected me again, and told me that she had only seen this happen twice, but never three times. I’m sure it’s happened this many times to other’s before, but I guess I was her only patient that it had happened to. I know I never, ever want to feel that again. It was sucktastic.
    Little did I know, that epidural changed my well-being forever. I remember slouching over in my bed and realizing I couldn’t move myself up very well. In my head, I blamed the epidural, and figured it was also normal. I couldn’t stretch my back or move myself up in the bed. My spine kind of felt like it went from a flimsy noodle to a thick, leather strap that had a wooden stick in it. And it wasn’t because of the medicine. The nurses would every now and then ask me to move up, and I would have to have them all move me.
    I know this sounds crazy…but my back hurt worse than my contractions. How sad is that? My left side felt more of the drug than my right, and I remember my cheek being so numb that I almost didn’t want to feel that way. I was swelling like crazy from the water retention. At around noon, they checked me again, and I was at a 2 1/2.
    At about that time, I rolled over to my right side. And my blood pressure dropped, and Beau’s heart rate dropped to an alarming rate. The nurse came running in, had me lay on my left side, and Beau’s heart rate went back to normal. I was told to NOT lay on my right side. So I basically laid on my left side the whole day.
    The rest of the day though was really, really slow. I hung out in the room watching TV with Drew and my Mom. I took a small nap. I chewed on some ice chips. At around 3ish, my nurse came in and checked me. They decided to scrape my cervix in hopes to get me to progress. This also really SUCKED. I didn’t ever think I would relate to a cantaloupe being gutted, but for that short moment, I did. (Gross, I know.) Just telling you like it is.
     At 5, she checked and I was at a 4. YAY! I was progressing. But slower than a snail. I’m pretty sure my friends and family waiting were getting annoyed at my progression, because I was ready to get the show on the road. The nurse said that when she came back for my next check, she would break my water.
    She wasn’t out of the room for 3 minutes, when I felt my water break. At first I wasn’t sure, but I looked over at Drew and said, “I either just peed myself realllll bad, or that was my water that broke!” I got super excited, because I knew it was getting to be go time. FINALLY!
    I called the nurse, she came in, confirmed the water breaking. Yada yada yada. Praise JESUS! Whoop whoop! I texted all my friends and family with the update and you could tell we all pepped up from our sleepy let’s get this show on the road state.
    At 7 PM, I was at an 8, and at 8PM I was at a 9. I for sure thought Beau would be out any moment. I could feel pressure, and I could feel the contractions a little, but my body was so numb on the left side that I could have put a knife in my leg and not felt anything.
    At this time, my female nurse left the room, and a tall dude nurse came in. I was kind of confused at first and thought I would be super uncomfortable with a guy delivering me, but I was at the point where I just didn’t care. I will say it was REALLY awkward having my husband staring at a guy looking at my hoo-ha! I remember looking at him and saying, “So, my name is Shalyn, it’s nice to meet you. This is my husband, Drew, and well, I might as well introduce my yaya too! I’m sorry you have to do this! LOL!” He started laughing and said, “Yeeeep. Pretty sure we would get along in real life.”
    I was at a 10 before I knew it, andddd my Dr. was delivering another baby. She had came in earlier before that and did a test push with me. She told to push like I was going under water? Well, I did what she said, and yeah, let’s just say she thought it was going to be a long long night. But, little did she know that I had already been given advice from a ton of friends so let’s just say I knew what mentality and method I needed to get the baby out. 🙂 I’ll spare ya the details.
    At 9:12 I started pushing. At about 9:50ish, my nurse said, HOLD on. Don’t push. The baby will be out if you do. Let me go get the Dr. So, I tried not to push. I looked at Drew, who was literally the most precious husband, ever, wearing his “I love my wife” shirt, and said, “Babe. I know I said I wanted soothing Christian music playing, but I just can’t push to this. I need something to amp me up!”
    So Gangsta Rap it was my friends. I believe he put it on the Lil’ Wayne Spotify station, and next thing I know, my Dr. is running in, putting gloves on, nurses swarmed in, the big light came in (hated this lol) and Beau made his debut at 10:00 PM to the song, “Gas Pedal by Sage the Gemini…”
    I know. I know. The kid is destined for greatness.
    They handed Beau to me, and he wasn’t crying. I was of course, crying, looking down at my baby, looking up at Drew, so happy. So full of bliss, and Beau still hadn’t made a peep. I asked the Dr. why he wasn’t making any noise, and she wiped his head a little. Still, nothing. He was moving, but not a whole lot. I looked at the Dr. again and concerned, said, “Why isn’t he crying?” She started to try to slap his bum a little, and so they suctioned out his mouth a few times, and finally, he cried. It was the longest 30ish seconds of my life. Dramatic, but I knew this was the beginning of what was to come. Non-stop worrying, nice to meet you!
    His lungs were 2% where they needed to be, so they took Beau from me, and I didn’t get to have my skin to skin like I wanted for the first hour after delivery. At this time, Beau was gone, and the room cleared, and it was just me and the Dr. She stitched me up, that wasn’t really all that fun, and then the next thing I knew…I was in the room alone.
    I don’t know where anyone went. I was a little confused but just used that time to text friends and family that Beau was finally here.
    My Mom came in, and she and I had some time to just talk about what happened, and how we couldn’t believe he was here. Now, don’t judge me. I will be judged and honestly, I still can’t believe I did this myself. We actually didn’t make this decision until we were HEADED to the hospital. No lie.
    Back in the beginning of my pregnancy, my sister-in-law, who was also pregnant (with her second baby) asked me to come with her to a baby class. I found out that it was a Placenta Encapsulation class and thought “Hell to the no. That is literally disgusting.” I went with her, but literally just as moral support. The class was super interesting, and there were a lot of second time Mom’s in there who had really, really bad post partum depression and who were willing to try ANYTHING to not have that happen again. Or atleast as bad. I went home and told Drew about it, and was more open to the idea, but still couldn’t really wrap my head around it. I was going to wait to see what happened with my sister-in-law and if it worked for her, or if it was a joke, or if it was a place-bo effect. My sister-in-law swore by it. She said it worked. Her entire post partum recovery was world’s different, and she never had any depression. Well, depression runs deep in my family, so I secretly was a little scared I was going to have it. I had probably a tiny case of it before getting pregnant with Drew being gone so much, and working at home alone…and then when I was pregnant, I could tell I wasn’t 100% feeling myself for a million reasons (no energy, body changes, never felt good, a ton of weight gain, etc) and well, on the way to the hospital, I decided to have my placenta encapsulated as much as it grossed me out. The benefits outweighed not doing it, and worst case, I didn’t take the pills if I didn’t want to. But I had the option.
    The nurses, the Dr.’s and the entire staff knew I was doing this. It was written in big bold letters on the white board, and we had the ice chest where they told us to put it…right next the white board where it said, “KEEP THE PLACENTA!” (So gross, I know! I know.) But it had to go straight into the ice chest, because it wouldn’t be any good if that didn’t happen.
    I called the lady to come pick it up, and she said her husband would be there at about 11pm. He texted, my Mom picked up the ice-chest, ran it down to him, and that was that.
    Every hour, my nurse would come in and tell me they would have a room for me soon. But to hang tight. I got to hold Beau during this time, so time flew by for the most part. I was so freaking tired, and so I had Drew go get me a fat turkey sandwich. That turkey sandwich tasted like a 100 dollar steak y’all. I literally wanted ten turkey sandwiches. At about 2 am, my nurse came in to document something or another, and she lifted this sheet up off the table of medical tools. She looked over at me and said, “So did you decide not to keep your placenta? Or are you going to have them pick it up for you?”
    I looked up from gazing at Beau, and I said, “Oh, he came around 11 pm and got it!”
    “Ummm, well…your placenta is still here. It’s right here.”
    They never put my placenta in the ice chest. They had it covered up under the sheet. Guys… I wanted to cry. I texted my lady at 2:30 in the morning, telling her what happened, she apologized like crazy for her husband not opening the cooler. I wasn’t upset with her AT ALL. Yes, that might have been a good idea, BUT I’m sorry, I wouldn’t want to open the ice chest either ya know? The hospital completely screwed that up. I remained calm though, and her husband came to the hospital at 3:30 AM to get it. I told her not to worry about it, but she sent him anyway. Customer service like whoa. I was blown away. But there was still a chance that it wouldn’t be any good…but we were going to take a chance and see.
    At 4:00 a.m., I’m still in my delivery room. I had not moved since giving birth to Beau, mostly because I couldn’t feel my legs or my feet, and I had nobody in there with me for the longest time to help. When my nurse came in to move me, she came to my side and had me sit up to get out of the bed. The wheelchair was waiting for me, and she said, “Okay, get up slowly.” I started to get up, and quickly realized and was reminded of the pain in my back. Only to also discover that the catheter was STILL in my back. Nobody had removed it. I asked a friend of mine who is a labor and delivery nurse and she told me that it should have been removed within the first two hours after giving birth. Well, 6 hours later, the stupid thing was still in my back. She removed it, I wanted to die, and I got in the wheelchair. I cuddled Beau, and went to sleep at around 5 a.m.
    That morning, I woke up, had Drew help me shower, and his parents came to visit. I’m telling you this because this is where I started to worry, but was told not to worry. I had just taken a Tramadol about 2 hours prior to this happening, and I had a stomach full of food. The blinds were open, the sun was shining in super bright, and I was watching the Texas A&M football game. Drew’s parents were talking, and holding Beau, when all of the sudden, I felt really dizzy, really light headed, and I couldn’t hold my head up. It felt like it was 30 pounds, and I looked at Drew and said, “Something is wrong babe. Very wrong.” He was standing by the light, so when I turned towards him, I couldn’t bare seeing the light. It hurt so bad. My eyes burned. My head hurt. I wanted to go into a deep sleep immediately. It was like I took 3 sleeping pills, sleepy. (I’ve never done that, but it’s what I would imagine it would feel like.)
    Drew called in the nurse, I told her what happened and she said it was probably a reaction to the Tramadol.
    Overtime a nurse would ask me what my pain was like on a scale of 1 to 10, I would say about a 5 to 6, but would remind them that my back hurt really bad. They assured me that it was from giving labor, it was normal, and would bring in hot packs and ice packs for me. I probably went through one an hour my entire stay.
    When I left the hospital, I still couldn’t walk well. My legs were so swollen. In fact, my whole entire body was swollen. I had seen a lot of Mom’s leave the hospital looking a lot smaller, but me? I was a BLIMP. I was more swollen leaving than I had ever been pregnant. It was hilarious and sad all at the same time. I couldn’t feel my feet, even 2 days later.
    To sum the next 6 weeks up: I cried every day. Between my hormones, the highs and lows, the joy of having a newborn, to the lack of sleep, to the pain down there in my lady parts, to my back radiating fire and feeling like someone stabbed me with a hot wooden stick… let me just say, my husband is a good, good, GOOD, man. Bless him. Let’s just say, more women should talk about postpartum recovery. Because we don’t and it isn’t all that great. Atleast for most of us. It really is a painful, awkward and just, raw time.
    During these 6 weeks, I assumed the pain in my back was normal. I kept thinking it would get better every day. But it didn’t. It got worse, and worse, and worse. I couldn’t do anything. I say that and you might be thinking, “YEAH OK SHAY” but I legit felt like a useless, broken and horrible mother. Holding Beau was a task. Changing his diaper was so hard. Picking him up, putting him down, sitting on the couch, getting off of the couch, walking, throwing away a piece of trash…basically anything that required your back…which is EVERYTHING, could not be done. I had never in my life felt more low than I did. Pain, in any form will drive a person mad, and sad, and into a downward spiral mentally, physically, and emotionally faster than you could possibly imagine. Especially when your 6 week check up comes, and you’re still not healed, and everyone around you that just had babies are already starting to exercise. I on the other hand felt like a carrot. I took my healthy and perfectly working back, and gave it all away. Just because I didn’t want to feel the pain of labor. I know I shouldn’t blame myself or be mad at myself, because this is just unfortunate…but I am. I struggled bad y’all…and I still do, even today. Everything I do movement wise, is restricted. I don’t ever not feel my back hurt. Chronic Pain is NO joke. It’s the devil.
    At around 7 weeks, I woke up one morning, and knew I needed to go to the ER. And fast. My back burned like fire, it cramped up so tight that I felt like if I did anything, my spine would break. Being a new Mom, dealing with the recovery in itself and dealing with this excruciating back pain…guys, it felt like I was in a horror movie. This sounds so dramatic, blame the hormones, but I was sad and pathetic. I literally couldn’t move without screaming bloody murder and had to have my sister in law (my saving grace) come watch Beau so I could go to the ER because Drew had been working out of town during the week the past 7 weeks. I had no choice but to drive myself, and let’s just say, the entire way to the hospital, I was screaming in pain. Tears flowing, non-stop.
    I’ve had more Dr. Appointments than I can count, I’ve been to a neurologist and I’ve had three MRI’s. No answers… Just referral after referral. Losing weight has been a JOKE. Mostly because I couldn’t move well for months, and sat on my couch and laid in my bed 24/7. I ended up having to take steroids and I swear it’s still in my system. I am still puffy, and bloated from those suckers. They helped with the inflammation a little but the pain still continues. Physical Therapy has helped some, but I still feel a lot of pain. I have a little more range of movement, and I’m super thankful for even the smallest improvement. But even my PT guy seems to not really understand why my back is still mad. He has worked on it with all these methods guys… He works out kinks and tightness in my back, but it all comes right back…angrier, which leads me to believe there is an injury in my tendons and ligaments and nerves around where my epidural went in. It isn’t healing, so basically it’s aggravating everything around it. That in turn then sends the anger up and down my spine.
    When I walk, I have to hold my back a lot for support. Back braces don’t provide the support I need as they fit really awkward on my body. Defeat comes to mind a lot, and my quality of life is at a constant state of battle. I can’t exercise to increase endorphins, and the pain makes me want to never leave my house. The thought of just lifting Beau into my car brings me to tears. My heart feels broken in so many ways and I feel robbed of this precious time with my son. I’ll never get this time back. And the more I think about this, the more sad and angry I get.
    I pray every day. I feel guilt in every way known to man. Guilt for not being a better more active Mom. Guilt for being in too much pain to do fun things with Beau. Guilt for my moods. Guilt for getting angry with God and asking him why this happened. Guilt for questioning my faith when I’m at my lowest. Guilt for being negative. Guilt for not taking better care of my health pre-baby. Guilt for not being able to clean my house or doing the laundry like I used to because bending down is the hardest thing in the world. I could go on and on and on. I write this sobbing now, because I’m so sad. I want my old back back. I want to feel strong and healthy and happy.
    I’m eating better, to help with inflammation but I’m not losing weight. The back and forth that my heart and head and the pain that fogs any happiness from entering has been the biggest battle of my life. I want to get through this, and I have been hanging onto the small gimmer of hope that it will…because it has to. But then the devil stands on my shoulder and says, “It WON’T! Because you have read stories on the internet of women who are 20 years post part and still have lower back issues. Anxiety attacks you and you give up all hope. And Dr.’s won’t ever admit that the epidural caused this. And you signed on that dotted line without reading the fine print because EPIDURALS are administered to 2094204820 women a day and you never hear the bad stories, so you my friend, are STUCK LIKE THIS FOREVER!!!!”
    Dramatic. It seems. But this pain has been trying to rule my life. I can’t let it. I won’t let it. It might be winning most days, but I can say that I am proud of myself for all the progress I have made and for doing my best, even when I feel like I am not able to.  Sharing this gives me therapy and hope that someone out there is reading this and has found relief, or hey, now has someone to relate, cry with and pray with.
    While I know many many many women will never have a problem with the epidural, and I do realize sometimes you HAVE to get one. I think just knowing that makes me so fearful for my next baby. I strongly feel that if more people knew that this could happen, they would MAYBE atleast research other ways to manage pain during labor. Because I would not wish this pain even on anyone. I might be the 5% of women who have problems after an epidural… But I’ll tell you something. This is the hardest obstacle. I can’t even imagine what people feel like when they have a broken back, or who have lived with this longer than 9 months. Because it makes living life really challenging. Never, ever take a healthy back for granted guys. Ever. If you ever have any back problem that feels like it can’t be fixed…you will know what I am talking about. I PRAY that you will never deal with this. I mean it.
    All I can do is hope, continue to pray, continue to treat my symptoms, and fight, even when I’m exhausted and at the end of my rope, to find happiness and feel better. IF this pain is forever, I pray that I can find a more graceful way to live life with a smile on my face. My Lord, my son and my husband deserve it.
    This was longgggg. Thank you for reading if you made it to this point. After seeing an instagram friend have this happen to her recently, I knew I had to just sit down and write this. NOW. And in case anyone has had this experience and can share their story with me and give me a glimmer of hope that this pain will go away or just to simply educate someone else on those crappy side effects nobody talks about.


    Thank the good Lord for Beau’s smiles and my husband’s hugs, non-stop encouragement and patience. Those are the things right now that takes my mind off the pain. I LOVE being a Mom. It is my greatest JOY and honor. But I needed to share this darker side with y’all. Keep it real. Social media hides so much of our pain, and we are all guilty of it.  Don’t let the idea of being a perfect human, wife, mom on Instagram make you feel less than. We are all in this together in some shape, way or form.
    May 19, 2017


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