A picture of me as a little girl.

When I was a little girl my mom and dad would tell me I was such a pretty little girl. That no matter what I was perfect exactly how I was because God made me and He doesn’t make mistakes. ❤️

As I grew older and had children of my own or would work with the youth I’d always feel impressed to remind them to KNOW WHO THEY ARE AND WHOSE THEY ARE. And then the time came where I had to be tested on if I really believed that.

I see this little girl when I think of what happened next. She had no idea what was coming.

I got more sick after seeing the house and packing became too much, so Cade would do it for me. Holding things up and asking if it was to be donated or packed. And then one morning it all crashed. My girlfriend was amazing, she’d quietly walk into my house without knocking and check on me, quietly take my girls only if I said yes and leave me with lots of love.

Hyperemesis gravidarum patients need to feel some kind of control. People think they are helping by taking charge but when your life is totally out of control and then everyone else steps on your toes it’s too much. She respected my need to sometimes want everyone home so I wasn’t desperately alone. But after she left I knew, I knew I was going to be admitted.

I texted a friend who came over, drove me to the hospital and watched me cry as my doctor said I had to go back in and it was time for feeding tubes.

Fun fact: did you know you can throw up feeding tubes? It’s your worst nightmare. But this stay was just to get me ready for them. I was wheeled to the hospital and put in a bed that would weigh me right in it so my atrophied muscles wouldn’t crumble from getting up. And I was alone again, without a house.

Every week I was getting ultrasounds to check on our sweet baby. This time letting us know his heart didn’t look right. And I felt it, I felt the heartache of, “did I do this to him? Did my illness keep him from developing?”

A photo of our kitchen looking over the kitchen sink our the window.

It was one of those days. You know the ones I’m talking about, it’s dark outside and the sun comes up but it never really comes out. The rain was pelting against the window and then trickling down the pane of glass making my view of the hospital parking lot a blurred picture. It seemed significant to me. I grew up in the rain and it has always made me feel cozy and at home, missing the Pacific Northwest and hating what Hyperemesis Gravidarum was doing to me.

I remember feeling very still that day.

Pondering on this baby boy and what was wrong with his heart, and the phone rang. It was the cafeteria again, urging me to order something but I couldn’t. The thought of food had me wanting to turn in my bed, seeking comfort from the nausea but glued in place knowing that just the slightest movement would instantly make me start throwing up. I held perfectly still, watching those dark clouds.

The blog, all that Cade and I had created was forgotten. I had no desire to continue. Life seemed too short even if we all made it through. I just wanted to be home again.

And suddenly, out of nowhere the tiniest ray of light pierced through a dark and ominous cloud. A moment of light and hope amidst the darkness and in that moment I felt the Spirit whisper to me, just as God declares to Moses, “I have a work for thee. Your ministry is not yet complete.”

In that instant I knew that there would be a way, but that I had been given this platform for a reason, it was time to start sharing our story.

But you see, when you share your light there will always be others who can’t bare the brilliance of truth and goodness. I didn’t know it yet, but I was about to be faced with the hardest experience yet.

I texted Cade immediately, “bring me my laptop, I need to write a blog post.”

And so he did.

Hyperemesis Gravidarum, it’s not morning sickness. The post that brought on the worst of the worst, attacks against me like I never imagined people could say.

A photo of my almost 6 months pregnant.

While I didn’t know this at the time, it describes perfectly the continual feeling I had inside while going through those two years of searching for a house, pregnancy with Hyperemesis Gravidarum…

My friend @caleereed taught me that when a big rainstorm is hitting cows will turn and try to outrun the rain…

By doing this they end up running WITH the rain thus prolonging the discomfort. In a study about this it was discovered that bison when faced with an oncoming storm will turn and face it. And in fact they charge the storm, running straight into it and come out on the other side. Their pain is shortened because they face the discomfort and push through.

“You can’t outrun the rain, so lift your arms open wide, feel the cleansing that comes through the rain.”

The pain and discomfort of Hypermesis Gravidarum is the worst thing I’ve endured, but by the third pregnancy (remember they get worse each time) I decided to push hard through. My desire to see the good, stay positive and write those letters so I could still serve helped me push through, but when I posted this picture I learned a new pain that I would have to survive.

My clothes were starting to fit again as the sickness was hitting the good months. The months where it turned into regular nausea and occasional vomiting during the day. Manageable, that was manageable.

I felt on cloud nine. Proud of myself, humble to be surviving and wanting to read how readers had responded. And they did:

“You are the worst person I have ever heard of. How dare you get pregnant just to become skinny!!”

“I hope you die, go ahead and do it, you already look like it anyway.”

“Your children should be taken away from you, they deserve better than you as their mother.”

“You are disgusting and need help for your mental issues. You clearly just want us to see that you are skinny. You probably aren’t even pregnant, you’re just seeking attention!”

And I’ll spare you the rest as the language and attacks became 10 times worse. I couldn’t even move as I read the flood of emails, comments and messages.