Scar Tissue Part 2

" Your baby has a condition that is not compatible with life" this is what they said......this is what I heard, "Your baby will die." Later I would find out that Cady had what  is called tripoidy. (http://www.healthline.com/health/triploidy#Overview1 ).  Essentially 2 sperm fertilized 1 egg so she had an entire extra set of chromosomes. Only about 1 percent of conceptions are triploid.....it just doesnt happen that often. 

Triploidy is a lethal condition. Fetuses with the abnormality rarely survive to birth. Many are spontaneously miscarried during the first trimester or stillborn before reaching full-term. The few infants that do survive to term will have severe and multiple birth defects. These might include growth retardation, heart defects, and neural tube defects (Spina bifida). Infants born with Triploidy typically will not live more than a few days after delivery

 I can remember my OB telling me that I had given her a safe place to live and she just didn't want to let go. That really didn't make me feel much better, but I didn't feel like such a failure knowing that my womb was doing its God Given job. The question now became, what do we do?  Do we wait to deliver her when she is ready, perhaps 10-12 more weeks? Do we induce labor now? I just wanted someone to tell me what to do.

Triploidy cannot be treated or cured. Pregnancies that last until the baby is delivered are rare. In the event an infant does survive, doctors and healthcare providers usually provide palliative care. Medicinal and surgical treatments are not used due to the ultimate lethal nature of the condition.

 Numbness had set in and I had become a different person. There was no joy, no love, no hope. We decided to call our priest, that would help, he would help. Long story short, my husband lost his faith that day. We were turned away, made to feel like we were doing something wrong, and told that the "church" would not condone or support an induction because it would be considered, in their eyes, as an abortion.(even though she could not, would not , survive ). When we asked if someone would at least come to baptize her when she was born, they denied....."you can just do it yourself" they said. The last place that I expected to feel rejection was at my church. We needed help, support , Christ-like unconditional love. What we got was......well, nothing. 

Days of tears and sleepless nights followed. I wrestled with all of my inner demons, I'm bad, I'm flawed, I'm wrong. With a long history of depression, I started to slip into a very dark place. I wasnt even sure that my womb was safe anymore. 

We made the decision to induce labor. I was sick, depressed and Cadys outcome would not be any different had we waited any longer. I checked into Labor and Delivery, I didn't get to pick out an outfit for Cady to go home in, she already had a closet full of clothes, but went into L and D with a small bag my mom packed.  I didn't even care. This was a nightmare. The L and D staff met us with somber half smiles and well meaning pats on the back, no words exchanged, just a gown given and the lights dimmed. The rest of that day was a blur. I wanted my mom to be with us, I wasn't sure how I was going to deal with this and my husband would need support. The doctor on call arrived and began the induction. Over the next few hours, I remember specific events. I was on a sedative so my memory is a bit cloudy. I remember a nurse coming in and crying. She said that there was a couple down the hall having a healthy baby that they didn't want and she was having a hard time seeing us so devastated and so desperate for a healthy baby of our own. I recall the room staying dark. I know our friends Rob and Sarah came to see us and to cry with us. I kind of just wanted to die. Another nurse came to ask if we wanted Cady to be cremated. Oh God. How do you even make that decision. I think I blacked out. We did decide to have her hand and footprints done after birth but we requested no photos. I regret that decision almost everyday. As I began to dilate, my doctor gave us a grim warning. "Don't be surprised if Cady takes a breath or two immediately after delivery. Please don't mistake this for her trying to survive, she can not." Please God, don't let her take a breath. Please give us this one wish. Please. 

I then remember getting up to use the restroom. Once I sat down, I felt tremendous pressure. I yelled and screamed for Chris. "Shes coming! Get me back to bed! I cant deliver her in here!" In the nick of time, I laid down, no time for the doctor to get there, she was coming and Chris was there. Somehow he managed to get gloves and a gown on...... he delivered our baby. She did not take a breath. 

My OB arrived shortly after this and handed her to me. She looked like Chris. She was a tiny baby bird, eyes closed, she was beautiful. My mom baptized her. I remember asking her to do it again....just in case. We all held her, smiled and tried to take it all in. I don't know how long I held her, it never would have been long enough. Finally I had to let her go. I can not tell you how hard it was to hand her over to the nurse knowing that I would never see her again. The nurse, tears in her eyes, took my baby and left.

The next couple of weeks and months were a bit of a haze. I had to go back to work and I was asked almost everyday when I was due....I wanted to wear a sign around my neck that said "my baby died". 

About 2 weeks after I returned to work I got a call during a case. I'm not sure who called, but they said that they had Cady's ashes and I could come pick them up when every I was ready.....pretty sure Id never be ready for that ......but it needed to be done. 

I walked down to the lobby and met a very nice looking lady who handed me a brown heart shaped box. She gave me a hug and left. I literally sat down on the floor of the Trauma Center lobby , holding a box of ashes and I cried. I had to go back to work....what did I do with the box, our daughter? Did I put her in my locker? Did I bring her into the OR? What if someone threw her out after the case. There were no answers. I was certain, right around this time, that I would never be the same. 

Scar Tissue Part 1

It is every year right around this time, August 21 to be exact, that I put up a veiled post on facebook, mention the Cady Kathleen, remind my friends how old she would be, and spend some time reading all of the cards and notes I saved from all those years ago. I suppose that doing this is therapy of some sort and is surely making me stronger, better, recovered etc, etc, etc..... But, I feel like part of me is just still trying to catch a glimpse of who I was before she died. 

I have issues. Well, we ALL have issues but I will admit that mine can be overwhelming...for me and for my family. I can remember a time.....about 16-17 years ago, when I had no fear. I tried new things, I flew in a 2 seater plane, I traveled , I swam in the ocean, I got a tattoo, I loved hard.....I was ALIVE. During this time I met my husband ,  quickly and madly fell in love and was engaged 4 months later. Shortly after our wedding, our close friend was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer at age 39. He died a few short months later leaving behind a young wife and 3 small children. It was in watching this horror story transpire that we made the decision to jump head first into parenthood. Life was precious and fragile and time was not meant to be wasted.

We were married on March 18 and I was pregnant by the end of the month. I was 24 years old. 

I can remember anticipating our ultrasound with mad excitement. Were we having a girl or a boy? Would she have my nose or Chris's eyes? Long lanky limbs? Blonde hair or brown? We bought a crib, I pained our guest bedroom a soothing light blue color and found the perfect Moon and Stars bedding suitable for either a boy or a girl. I sat in there with my heart full of love for this little nugget that was nestled so snugly inside of my safe belly.  

The ultrasound day arrived, just a routine, mid term ultrasound.....really though, for us, it was purely to find out if our nugget was a Little Chris or a Little E. My mom wanted to join us as this was her first grandchild, Im her oldest daughter and well, I just wanted her there to share in the excitement. I remember wearing a denim jumper... ( yes I wore a denim jumper, no comment). My mom had given it to me from her closet, she thought it would be the perfect maternity dress. It had one big pocket on the front. Yuck:). Anyways, moving on.... C and I both worked at Vanderbilt, so naturally my prenatal care would be done there on campus. The three of us waited patiently for my ultrasound. I remember drinking lots of water just to be sure we got the best view of baby Roman, I wanted to leave there knowing for sure if we were expecting a boy or a girl! It never crossed my mind that anything could be wrong. 

Finally it was our turn. We piled into the little dark room, giddy with excitement. I hoped up on the table and got ready to see the baby. The sonographer came in and entered what seemed like a ridiculous amount of information into the computer,made idle chit chat, turned the monitor so I had a good view and then FINALLY readied the ultrasound probe and placed the warm jelly on my tummy. YAY! Here it was, my heart was racing I was beyond excited. I turned my head to the right to see the monitor. She moved the probe all around, up,down, side to side....often times putting quite a bit of pressure on my belly. She asked me how far along I was again. Then she turned the monitor away, I couldnt see the baby anymore. I asked if she could tell if we were having a boy or a girl. She said, " Um, yes, its a girl." But why did her voice change? Why did she turn the monitor away? What was happening? I asked Chris, he just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. The sonographer then stood up and said that she needed to get the radiologist. That wasnt normal was it? I looked at my mom. I could see that her brow was furrowed and she looked confused. 

When the sonographer  returned, she turned off the ultraound machine and said I could get dressed. Why didnt I get one of those  little black and white pictures for our baby book? What was happening! She said that my OB wanted to see us. So the 3 of us shuffled quietly across the street, me back in my denim jumper, Chris staring straight ahead and my mom holding my hand. When we arrived to check in, they immediately ushered us back to an open room. My chart was on the door along with a box of kleenex. Remember though that we still knew NOTHING. I looked at Chris and asked why there were kleenex on the door. Was something wrong with the baby? Did they make a mistake? This was not good and my heart sank. We waited now in a bright sterile exam room with a box of kleenex on the table between us.Was I supposed to be crying? What for? My OB finally peeked her head in and asked us to come to her office, so we could have some space. What the hell was going on? 

She sat down and said something like, " Your ultrasound shows that there is something wrong with your baby." I kind of stopped listening after that. The room started spinning, I saw black, I stopped feeling for a moment.  My initial thoughts were how was I going to care for a special needs child...(I still felt like a child myself, actually, at 24 I was).... what kind of quality of life would she have, what did I do wrong, why me? I then remember breaking out into violent sobs, unabashedly wailing with pure grief. Im sure that the entire office heard me and I really didnt care. My world had been rocked and I didnt even know what the diagnosis was. Chris didnt know what to do with me . After a few minutes and a few choked sobs of his own, he went into his default Doctor mode and asked our OB what was next. She said that I needed an amniocentesis to confirm what the u/s showed, and I still had no idea what that even was, i just knew it was bad. She suggested we go for coffee while she tried to get us in to see the high risk OB that afternoon for an amnio. Coffee?! I was pregnant, coffee was a no-no right? Why was she suggesting that? So off we shuffled down the street to Starbucks. We really had nothing to say. My phone rang about an hour later. It was our OB. She said that she got us an appt first thing the next morning. She told Chris that she called me in a prescription for xanax, to give me one when we got home so I could rest. I looked at him like he had 2 heads. I couldnt take xanax while I was pregnant. That would hurt the baby. Chris looked at me as said that clearly the side effects of the xanax on the baby were the least of our concerns. This was just getting worse by the minute. That was one of the longest nights of my life. 

The next day I was the first appointment the the high risk clinic. Actually, I think the doc came in early and put me on the schedule first as a favor. I was scared. I was alone. Chris was a surgical resident and had to work. I remember seeing the huge needle, the blue colored fluid and thinking that this was not how it was supposed to be. The amnio hurt, a lot. But little baby girl loved the extra fluid that was now surrounding her. The doctor even said.....look at her swim!....she loves the water. Is she ok I asked, I didnt even hear what he said....I was too busy watching my baby swim. I went home and waited.

Scar Tissue Part 3

Cady Kathleen Roman was born August 21. Cady Kathleen Roman died August 21. My mom and Chris and I think my sister,  dismantled the crib, took everything off the walls and packed away every trace of our child. I had told them that I didnt want to walk in there and see anything that reminded me of her, so to please get rid of it all.  For a long while after that, I had a very hard time even looking at anyone who was pregnant. I resented them. I was angry. I know that anger is one of the many stages of grief and I was grieving hard. I isolated myself. I went through the motions of living. I was not a nice person. We decided to go away for a bit. We went out to Colorado. Our nieces lived there. They were so little and I could not look at them with out breaking down in tears. We had lots of talks out there in the mountains, shed lots of tears and somehow managed to survive. 

We were told to wait a year to try to get pregnant again, my body and mind needed rest, I had just delivered a baby. That was the plan.....well, I guess that was the plan. It was kind of unspoken. I remember October rolling around and thinking that it was time, against all advice except what I knew to be right in my heart.....Chris's birthday was the 19th and in his card, I wrote, "I'm ready to try again". He was thrilled of course, not only had he lost his daughter, he was quickly losing his wife..... I had become a shell of a human....... it was this decision , to try again , that ultimately saved me. It didn't take long and I was pregnant again. I knew that this was the right thing to do. Having another human depending on me for survival shook me out of the hell that I called my life. I was cautious, obnoxiously so.....afraid at every OB visit, fearing sometimes even expecting ,loss again. Time went by, weeks into months and months in to a term pregnancy. We made it. I gave birth to our second daughter July 13, 2001, less than one year after burying Cady. 

Since then, we suffered another loss (another story entirely) but also had another sweet baby girl ,Maddox, in 2005. Noting that our  50 % success rate on delivering healthy babies (G4 P2) was not really ideal, our doctor agreed to a tubal ligation....mentally, emotionally and physically....I could not get pregnant again. 

Fast forward to today, 14 years later. I still bear the scars of this loss. You cant see them, I keep them hidden.....However,  I worry, excessively so sometimes, about my kids and their well being.Thank God I have Chris. He keeps me sane and grounded and is constantly reassuring me that all is well.  I guess when you experience loss, it takes time to trust again. My work in this lifetime is to learn to trust again. To trust that all is exactly as it should be, to not expect the worst (because you might actually get the best) and to know that life is not to be feared. I try to not project my worry onto my kids and believe it or not, my oldest daughter is often my voice of reason. She has perfected the phrase...."don't worry Mommy.". I say it all the time, our kids are our greatest teachers. They see life through a pure and innocent lens and remind us to be thankful. I am still very much in process and have a lot of work to do, but these days, I can pick my battles with greater ease. I'm learning to trust and am often putting myself in situations that require me to trust those around me, complete strangers sometimes. I'm slowly fanning my girl's wings and encouraging them to learn to fly and to trust. I was given this gift of two amazing healthy daughters. I do not take that responsibility lightly. I prayed for these kids, to be given the chance of motherhood again.  My kids come first, it is their time....such a fleeting, precious time......

Sometimes it takes an injury, often a significant injury to give us a chance to rebuild what was broken. And more often than not..... That place that was weak and hopeless becomes a place that is stronger than the rest. We are all fighting our own battles. Some public, some silent and mine is no more significant than any other.....but we are all warriors. Happy Birthday Sweet Cady. Mommy loves you. 

There’s a time in our lives; we start again on writing our part; as the story goes on; it’s the rule we remember our lines (Good Old War)

As I sit here nearly two weeks after my time "in the desert", I am still struggling with finding the right words to describe my experience. Badwater was about Chris…his race, his dream, his goal…I was just along for the ride. Little did I know that every moment leading up to that point would ultimately affect its outcome. I changed out there. This is is my Badwater Report, but honestly it is how Badwater changed my life. I guess when all else fails, just start at the beginning. That is what I have decided to do. It is long, but nothing could be omitted. If you choose to read it all, thank you…if not….maybe someday you will be ready. Until 2 weeks ago, I wasn't even ready myself.

Twelve years ago, I saw a shy, handsome, young surgical resident in the corridors at VUMC. After several failed relationships and a genuine hatred toward men, I easily pushed his "cuteness" aside. I knew that the only thing that was important to me at age 22 was to be independent. I would change my own tires, move furniture, make my own money, etc., etc. The only thing I knew for sure was that I did not NEED a man in my life. It was certainly more about WANTING a man in my life. I was done with whatever everyone said I needed. Fast forward a few years. The shy resident finally asked me out, I said yes and we were engaged a few months later. What does any of this have to do with Badwater? Stay with me…

Remember when you were young and you felt invincible and that nothing could ever happen to YOU. All of that badness and misfortune happened to other people, not YOU. This is a great sense of security, but it does not exist. God has a funny way of stepping right in front of you when the time is right and reminding you of who is in charge. This came in the form of our first child, who was stillborn, Cady Kathleen Roman. Born August 21, 2000-Died August 21, 2000. All of a sudden I was holding a heart shaped box that contained her ashes and wondering where to go from here. Well, thanks to divine intervention and my wicked fertility genes, we quickly got pregnant again. Again, you are probably thinking where is she going with this….just read on.

Years passed, we had 2 healthy baby girls, and Chris and I grew apart. We were just so different, yet we loved one another greatly. We spent many months merely existing as I grieved our child and our failing relationship. Chris worked, I never saw him and we weren't sure if we even liked each other anymore. Chris found running and I found every reason to resent him for it. Marathons turned into 50k's, 50ks to 100 miles and not only did he love it, he was GOOD at it. I always asked him what he was running from. I think in those early days, it was ….me.

The worst feeling in the world is the feeling of failure. The things that God created you to do, find a mate, love fully have babies….these were all things that I was obviously failing at. What good was I? Chris followed his passion of running and I reluctantly supported him. I didn't marry a runner, yet he didn't marry a shell of a human either. So here we were…a budding ultra-marathoner and his wife.

Moving to Florida was our sense of rebirth. I moved here many months before Chris and each time he spoke to me on the phone, he was so excited about how happy I sounded. At this point, I had come to some serious crossroads in my life, forced my way to live through the horror and kept the door of possibility cracked. He kept running and doing amazing things. I recall him running with Dean K. during his 50 in 50 and telling me about people that run this crazy race, 135 miles in the desert! I said, "promise me you will never do that", he said….."Don't worry, it's not even on my radar, I'll never be that good".

Fear of failure. Chris had it too. It was unfortunately deeply ingrained in both of our innocent child brains and once that nasty seed had been planted, it was very hard to get rid of. We were, however, connecting ….through our fear of failure. Again Chris kept running and got better and better. I remember showing up to the finish of his first 100k at his "projected" finish time to see him standing there drinking a beer. I was devastated that I didn't see him finish. He had been done for almost an hour. It was at that moment that I vowed to never let him cross a finish line without me there. If he was running from something, it was going to be me who caught him when he finished.

Enter Leadville, Ironhorse, Keys, Pinhoti, Western States, etc etc etc. I am sure that we were the laughing stock of more seasoned ultrarunners. I was his only crew and he did most of these races without a pacer. We had bonded and this was OUR thing. We learned, struggled, laughed and loved…BIG.

I remember a few years ago, when his training was getting in the way of me having a chance to do ANYTHING for myself, he looked at me and said, " I just realized that I am a 40 year old doctor with a great life and a great family, but I don't have any friends. The only real friends I have are the ones I have only met a few times on a race course. But I could call any one of those guys and they would be there for me in a heartbeat." This hobby was now our family.

Chris got accepted to Badwater. He crossed all the T's and dotted all the I's….crewed Badwater for our brother Tony P (whom I now love as much as Chris ….well , almost as much) , excelled in racing 100 milers, contributed significantly to his charity CAF and trained his skinny ass off. I started feeling like Badwater was his mistress. The training kept him busy and away from our family, lots of money was spent and countless sacrifices were made. He connected with people on visceral levels. To name a few (Eric, Terry, Tony, Dan, Susan, Mark, Chip, and Charlie of course) This was his life's work. Nothing to prove, of course, but everything to prove at the same time. We assembled our team. Dan Rose told Chris that he would crew him if he was ever accepted, talk about being true to a verbal agreement. Rose vowed to attend Badwater only once, and that was for Chris. He is an amazing runner, his resume speaks for itself; I would be there, of course, as moral support and crew chief, Susan Smith, our friend, supporter and marathoner never hesitated with her YES, Dan Hartley a committed ultrarunner couldn't wait for the experience to fuel his own Badwater dreams, Mark Ryan a totally loyal and stand-up guy as well as a great runner signed, on right away , and Chris's brother Rick would make the journey to see his baby brother in all of his suffering glory. Later, Rick reluctantly had to back out and Chris went through a grieving period, mourning the fact that his brother wouldn't be there, but vowing to do his best for Rick, so he would be proud.

The wheels were in motion. Training continued and I felt like the "mistress" was getting my man. Bad water was all we talked about, planned for and studied. Lots of people say that you have to have a crew of only exceptional athletes, seasoned ultra-runners and nothing short of that will do. The human condition is much more complex than eat, drink, run repeat. Of course, knowledge of the course, environment and race nutrition is of paramount importance, (thank God for our expert crew members) but what about the emotional side of knowing just what your runner needs, the knowing when you look into their eyes, the understanding of the suffering….that is when the gentle touch of someone who loves you is even better that that Starbucks espresso shot. That is why I was there. Im neither ultra runner, nor will I ever be, but I know Chris, and I vowed to get him to that finish line.

I hate to fly. It's no secret. I have to be medicated to deal with any flight over 1.5 hrs. I did just that on our way to Las Vegas. I spent the first 4 hrs. drooling on my horseshoe pillow. When I awoke, I was in Hell. The plane fell from the sky. It was like being on a rollercoaster and going downhill very fast with the hope that the bottom was soon to come, except this fall never seemed to end. The electricity went off, everyone was screaming, when I pried my one eye open, I saw someone come out of their seat and hit the ceiling of the plane. The use of vomit bags was encouraged and I was sure it was my time to go. This was my worst nightmare come true. Maybe I created my own reality. Chris's friend Meredith and her husband and baby were behind us. I heard their screams and time stood still. All of a sudden, it was very clear how delicate our balance between calm and chaos is.

I talked about this for at least 24 hrs. I think that it was justified considering the fact that we almost died getting to the start line of the world's toughest foot race. Enter Death Valley……The landscape was like no other. Barren, weathered, desolate….why, then, was it so damn powerful? Getting to Furnace Creek Resort was so refreshing. I have lots of control issues; I normally freak out if I'm not near a hospital or don't have a cell signal. I had neither of those, yet felt a strong sense of calm and purpose….all my fears were left on Soutwest Flight 104. As we trekked to the Basin the next day, I started to get nervous when I realized I left our sat phone in the room and my cell wouldn't work. It was becoming crystal clear, control was not mine to have….slowly I began to rid myself of my need of it and find that life was a little easier when I gave some of it up.

The race started with lots of butterflies. Chris earned his spot in the 10 am start group, flanked by some of the world's elite athletes. He had arrived. He was nervous and I could feel it. I stayed calm. I have one great quality, putting on a great game face….maybe that's not such a great quality after all, but hindsight is 20/20. He starting running and I shed the first of many tears. Our crew was cohesive, save a few bumps here and there, Chris was our only concern. I showed my ugly side only a few times, but I think it was warranted and kept us on track. Time passed very quickly. Before I knew it the moon was out in all of its majesty and Chris was still running. Dan Rose asked if I was up to logging a few miles….of course. Knee surgery aside, I fell in step behind my husband, talking like we were at our kitchen table. All of a sudden a downhill presented itself….I heard myself say "Lets RUN"….like a school kid suggesting something that was forbidden. Chris asked if I was sure…and I said let's go! First run in almost a year. Under a shooting star with the love of my life......Little did I know that the crew was debating coming back to pick me up after seeing the downhill on their 2 mile leap frog. When Dan R. told me later that he exclaimed to the team, "Erin would never hold Chris back and would tell him to run ahead before she made him walk a downhill" I knew that our team had become one unit. We KNEW each other.

The night was full of relentless uphill and freeing downhill. The cars along the road with their flashing hazards and the runners and pacers with their light vests and headlights looked like an ultra Christmas tree. Beautiful….As morning approached, I was secretly hoping for the sun to hurry the heck up and wake up so that I was warm again (I hate cold and was bundled up in pants, hat, jacket and hand warmers….ya, ya, I know….) Chris saw his chance on making a sub 24 hr hundred mile time. And that he did, 22 hrs and some change. Then the suffering began. Tensions began to rise a bit, exhaustion set in and I was trying to carry out my runners wishes without being a total "you know what". Delirium took hold of me and I made some ridiculous videos at this point, but I had no idea of what was in store.

The next 12 miles tested everything inside of Chris and surprisingly inside of me. I never imagined that Chris's Badwater would have any effect on me apart from the usual crewing stuff. I knew that this was his moment and my only role was to get him across the finish in one piece. I never bargained for the the many moments of stillness that allowed me to finally slow down enough to fully appreciate this life. When I began to walk up the mountain with Chris, I was nervous…..see Erin's mountain road neurosis…or ask Dan Hartley…I don't like tiny roads that have no guard rails. Then multiply that by the fact that my husband was delirious and out of his mind, teetering on the edge of these blasted roads as we tried to find a safe place to stop. I actually opted to walk up the hill at one point rather than ride in the van….neurotic, I know. I planned to go up the last 8 miles with Chris. I was physically capable but wasn't prepared for the emotion. When I settled in behind Chris for his death march, he had already left all that he had left in his tank back in Lone Pine, all was seemingly OK. Chris then began to talk a little crazy, act a little unsteady and tell me how delirious he was. As a nurse, I knew that if he was expressing it, he was lucid right? Then he began to say over and over, "This is so hard, this is so hard." Each tenth of a mile was sheer torture and he knew I was worried. The funny thing here is that after he expressed how delirious he was he quickly followed that by ,"I'm not delirious enough for medical so don't get any ideas or go calling for help"….exit Erin, enter Dan Rose. I had to step back and let someone who had felt those same feelings and experienced that same pain is with Chris. All I wanted to do was be his wife and tell him to stop that he had nothing to prove and that he had already done amazing. I just wanted us to be at the hotel and have this stupid race behind us. But, I also know that quitting would only relieve the pain temporarily but the pain of not finishing what he started would haunt him forever. I quietly took his hand, kissed it and placed in his open palm the RIP rock from Charlies "going away" party. He shook his head, shed a tear and walked a little faster.

As we approached our crew, about 100 yards out from the finish, Chris said "I hope that they didn't come like half a mile down to meet us….this needs to be over now." He asked Dan Rose if he would get to the finish in less than 33 hrs. and Dan smiled and said " you've got like 4 minutes dude!" Chris looked at me and said that he wanted his finish picture with his whole crew with linked hands crossing together. I asked if he was sure he didn't want to cross himself and he point blank said that without us, there would be no Badwater finish for him. So we did just that….arms raised in triumph, leaving our former selves in the desert, ready to start anew with fresh eyes and an awakened heart.

Badwater is the toughest footrace on the planet. My husband did it with a demanding job, a wife and two kids, in his 40s with nothing to prove. If you ask me…..what he did was nothing short of amazing. He gave our crew and myself the experience of a lifetime, the opportunity to find what makes us who we are and what needs a little tweaking. He trusted us with his life, never questioning the nutrition strategy or the pacing schedule. He turned it his race over to us.

A lot of baggage was left out in Death Valley. Sometimes if you don't "get it" on your own, God forces you to be still, giving you the chance to figure it out. It is these moments of silence and quiet reflection that define our lives. I can only imagine the clarity Chris gained while running Badwater. Suffering in silence exploring the emotional, physical, what is needed and what is not, what matters and what is a waste of energy. My husband got to cross off a big one on his life list. How fortunate am I that I was a part of it. Don't wait for disease, tragedy or unrest until you make time for stillness….do less with greater intention. The time is now.

Thank you to our crew. Dan Rose, Dan Hartley, Susan Smith, Mark Ryan and Ray….you sacrificed part of yourself to be with Chris….I can never express how much that means to both of us. It wouldn't have been the same experience without each of you. We can never repay you properly for your selflessness, but in exchange, I hope that in the stillness of the desert, you got to find a moment of peace within yourselves, and in that moment you found yourself renewed and ready to "be the change". Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

How is that working for you?

You may be wondering who's arm is this and what in the world has she done now....dont fret...just read on.

I embarked on some additional training in the Baptiste style of yoga. I am so happy and excited to be following my heart. Without a running/triathlon training schedule I have so much more time to devote to what has become my true passion, yoga, teaching, practicing, learning and growing. I have been assisting in the Intro Series and I have run the gamut of emotions. I have gone from flying high, to the lowest of lows, crying, laughing, confidence and nerves. We have been challenged to look deep inside as we advance our practice. We had to answer the question :What is one area in my life that I feel like I have lost my freedom? Holy wow! This forced me to confront some issues to say the least. What I learned was that my so-called "story" really wasnt working for me....and for that matter, it wasnt working for anyone else either. In the process of becoming the world's greatest support person, I somehow became ok with the idea that my needs came second. Let me clarify here that no one ever made me feel this way, especially my husband who is my biggest fan....I ALLOWED myself to feel this way. I became known as Chris's amazing support person, the one woman crew, the one constant in our family and I allowed myself to think that this was all there was. I have so much inside just waiting to come out! I am so thankful that I was forced to get real and realize that I am what I choose to become. When Chris left for Brazil, I scribbled some words on a card. I never thought long and hard about what to say, I just wrote from the heart and from what was real. I wrote " Go. Live. Suffer. Grow"


This was just my humble wish for his journey. I was giving him permission of sorts to allow his journey to fill him up and light him up for us and for himself. These four words became a mantra, an intention to Chris and his pilgrim brothers. Jarom, one of the 3 to complete the journey, was so moved and inspired by these words that he gave himself a permanent reminder of his life's purpose. See above photo. If I EVER feel like what I have to say is inconsequential....I will look at this photo and realize that YES....one person can make a HUGE difference. Im finding my voice, are you?

Fly, Blackbird Fly

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise. Blackbird fly, blackbird fly".

I was fortunate enough to spend Sunday with Moses and Zeina, the selfless, giving beings behind the Green Bus Project and I Love Yoga. They are travelling for the 12 months, visiting yoga studios around the country sharing their gift of acro yoga and raising money for the Africa Yoga Project. Take a moment to read about what they are doing (http://www.greenbusproject.com/ ). It is inspiring and so refreshing to say the least.

The I Love Yoga Green Bus tour made a stop at Big Fish Yoga on Sunday.I kept thinking how much my kids would have loved to see this big green bus and to see what is possible when you think outside the box. Even though it was Superbowl Sunday, the chance to come to the acro-yoga workshop and "fly" was far more important to me than any game. When I signed up for this, I never really considered what was going to be involved. I just said "yes".....kind of a theme these days. I asked my friend to come with...to be honest, I didn't think that she would say yes given the fact that it was a big chunk of time on a Sunday and that she had never set foot in a yoga studio before. I was excited about the day, spending time with my friend and sharing yoga with her. To be honest, just getting myself to the studio that day was a feat beyond measure. I had to relinquish my kids to my in laws for the entire afternoon, which is hard for me, I'm not good at asking for help, and I had to pull myself together emotionally. It had been a rough couple of days for "e". I had been in my car crying in the parking lot, my eyes swollen shut with a feeling of despair....this is not how I wanted to go into this workshop, but looking back....I think it emptied me out so completely that I could fill up on the things I desperately needed.

First let me mention that if you take someone to a yoga studio for the first time, it is probably wise to inform them that there may be a little chanting and a little deep breathing. I didn't do this...and let me tell you, the chanting, om-ing, and breathing on this day was off the hook! I thought my friend was going to literally run screaming from the building, but she was forced to remove her running shoes upon entering the studio (another fact that yours truly forgot to mention) and the door was locked, so she had to stay. We Om-ed for roughly 5 minutes....this is a long time, especially for a newbie. So, I'm thinking more about how she was feeling than how I was feeling which was a welcome distraction considering my state of mind and it actually made me giggle a little bit to see her reaction to all of these things. She even admitted to me later that she had to picture her dog, dying in the street to stifle her laughter. This makes me laugh even now thinking that all these people are laying around us trying to achieve harmony and peace and there she is, biting her cheek and picturing her dead dog.....classic.

Onward....We started the workshop with a "sharing circle". We each had to say our name and why we were there. Great...I wasn't sure that I could even speak without crying, much less provide a coherent explanation as to why I was there. My turn arrived and I started out OK...got my name out...then bam!...emotion overload. I think I said that I was feeling very vulnerable and scarred, but I mostly was trying to keep it together. Then it was my friends turn....oh boy...what is going to come out of her mouth....she is not one to mince words. She mentioned that the whole experience so far reminded her of her college days....again, I'm thinking oh boy....where is she going with this? Then she began to speak...for a decent amount of time about her life and how she always felt in chaos. I then thought that she needed this as much as I did, maybe more. We then began some communication exercises....you may be thinking, what does any of this have to do with "acro-yoga"? Well, I briefly thought the same thing, until I realized that it had EVERYTHING to do with acro-yoga. When you fly, your body is literally in the hands of your partner. Being able to express yourself and communicate is key to achieving balance... in acro yoga and also in life. After this, we were ready to fly!! We broke off into groups of 3, me my friend and Zeina's brother, Ram. I wanted to be the base first and fly my friend. No surprise here that this is exactly how I live my own life. I always see myself as the one to provide stability, the one that lifts everyone up, the one that is more comfortable being in control. This was no different on this day as I lay down on my mat and got ready to fly my friend. She was nervous....it was palpable. She was stiff and she wasn't breathing. It is essential when you fly to breathe and allow all your muscles to relax. It makes it much harder on your partner to hold you up if you are tensing your muscles.(Can you see how this relates to most relationships...especially marriages and partnerships?) After a couple of attempts, she was flying....terrified but flying. She slowly began to release, trusting my strength....something that I knew I could give her without fail. She stayed there for a good long time, allowing me to hold her up...effortlessly at times, suspended in this perfect moment of time. Then it was my turn to fly. I had gotten so good, in my life, at being the strength, that I wasn't sure that I was going to be able to surrender. Wow....the feeling that I felt when I gave it all away (all the struggling, all the expectations, all the baggage) just overtook my entire being. For a moment I closed my eyes and lost all concept of time and space. It was just, me....broken wings and all....relearning to fly.

This is a picture of Ram flying me. I cant tell you how much I surprised myself. I naturally went limp and just allowed myself to me moved and molded and held up.

Just hanging out....flying....it is like an out of body experience if you allow yourself to let go. I got to fly Ram too! My strength and confidence surprised me again...I felt strong and was able to let him fly for quite a while. Moses came by and patted my leg as I was flying Ram and said "Awesome, you are strong". And in my head, I answered "I know." This was quite profound. I was finally admitting my strength ...maybe not out loud, but at least to myself. My friend got to base me as well, but she was mentally fighting against her "tight hammies" and her "inflexibility". Both things that Moses pointed out were NOT the problem at all...it was her inability to breathe and to let go of some of the tension she was creating...hmmmmm, interesting. He made the point that strength was something that she had a lot of, she just had to use it in a way that worked for her. Awesome. I think we both learned a lot about ourselves and how we react to others, what is natural and what we try to force in our lives. The workshop ran a little long and I was starting to worry about picking my kids up in a timely manner so I probably lost out on some deep relaxation as we retreated to savasana. I also desperately wanted to shop the I Love Yoga clothing line that Moses and Zee were promoting, but really had to go. When I asked if they would be back with their clothing, Zee said that she wasn't sure. Then what she said next summed up the core of their being. She said, "Just take what you want and mail us a check....that is totally fine." Wow....just wow...how refreshing, giving, trusting and authentic. This is what I got filled up on at acro-yoga. Namaste.

Just Say "YES"

Well, my husband has been home from his Brazil pilgrimage for 1 week now. I really thought that I would have been a blogging fool while he was gone, but I only got 1 little blog out. I guess that is because I am a self-professed worrier. I have spent untold amounts of energy worrying about things that haven't even happened. I am authentically working on this behavior pattern. It is true that in times of stress, it is easy for me (us) to revert back to the same-ole same-ole coping mechanisms, good and bad. For me, it becomes an internal struggle. I'm happy and smiley on the outside, but brooding and tormented on the inside. It was remarkable to me that Tony, Chris's Brazil running buddy and "brother", saw me via Skype almost every night during the pilgrimage. He was talking to Chris via Skype the other night, and, I should insert here that if Tony were a woman, I think I would be getting jealous, but alas, Tony is a man, who loves sushi and beer and loves my husband in a way that I can only try to comprehend. Chris, Tony and Jarom spent 7 days "in the desert" relying on themselves, their bodies and their spirit.. but most of all their commitment to one another. Much like a marriage...once you say "yes".....its for better AND (not or) worse. So, back to what I was saying....Tony looked at me as I poked my tiny head over Chris's shoulder and said "Wow...you have the sparkle in your eyes back....seriously, you look like a different person". I get that...I can try my hardest to put on a good show...so many of us do....but the sparkle in your eye does not lie and cannot be "faked". As I make my journey from gym to mat this "trying to fake it" mentality comes up time and time again. A good instructor leads you to push you limits, but it is up to you to find your limits. Just ask yourself....Is it more important to get into the "pose" (on your mat and in your life), miserable and in poor form just so that those around you will think you have it all together....or will you wait until you have all the necessary components to make the pose real and authentic?


This shows up for me when I am in extended side angle and the instructor allows us to play with taking a half or full bind (this is when your hands connect behind your body). I used to contort my self (ok...this is all VERY relative) just so that the tips of my fingers would touch and I would think..."see...I can do this...Im so cool and happy" (when I was really miserable and hoping for the end of the sequence). I had to take a step back and realize that I wasnt ready. I was getting ready, but not there yet. Can you see how this can relate to EVERY part of life? I now have the tools to come into a full bind with my heart shining up to the "high", my breath free and easy and my foundation stable. It is a process and one that I am grateful to share.
I am also taking a leap of faith in my yoga training, one that I know is in my heart and in my soul and one that forces me to share what I have. So, I am saying "yes" are you? (click here to find yourself in the lyrics to "Just Say Yes" by Snow Patrol.
Just say yes
Just say there is nothing holding you back
Its not a test
Or a trick of the mind, only love.
Tomorrow is my acro-yoga workshop  (I am also taking a dear friend who is a self professed "me monster" and has never done yoga) I will be relying on her to hold me up and let me fly....literally and figuratively....I can only imagine how much I will have to share:).