From the Depths

I have been dreading this day for months now. Not knowing what the one year anniversary would bring up was scary. Of course I will have to make it through the celebrations of Christmas and my son’s birthday and new year each time before I get to today. Maybe some year it will feel like an afterthought. The good news is that we are battling an annoying stomach bug today so it was easier for me to focus on feeling ill than it was to focus on the trauma and terror that was 1/2/2025.

One year ago, 365 days, I woke up to ten people staring at me in my hospital bed. I didn’t know why they were staring but they looked concerned and scared. I asked “did I have the baby?” “Did I have a c section?” The nurse, who is also a friend, replies “yes Jaime you had Everett and he is fine”. Everett? We named the baby? We had the baby? Why is Dr. Jorgenson here again? Why is Kody looking at me like I am dying?

I was being scanned left and right, CT’s, brain MRI’s, any type of blood test you can think of, arterial lines.. being told I might have had a stroke.. I for sure had a grand mal seizure or tonic clonic as they call it now. My son, alone to get his circumsicion without his mommy. His daddy left wandering between two ends of the hospital not knowing who he should support. I have to be transferred to a different hospital for neurology. Who knew this was such a life changing decision to make. My son is here I can’t leave him, so I decide to stay in town.

When we get there the doctor who is of old age comes in and shows us the MRI’s. Stating that I have “a brain tumor and we will take you in for surgery in the morning and remove it”. I still have no emotion to attach to that memory. I did EMDR over that scene and not a lick of emotion was tied to it. Just complete disassociation. I was outside of my body already having given birth 30 some hours before and here I was floating above my pained and tired and dehydrated body. Listening but not really hearing. Assuming stupidly that if we just remove the tumor that all will be well after that. I was wrong. Thankfully though my family was wise enough to know that this doctor was crazy and the hospital where we live is no where near equipped to handle a delicate surgery of the brain. Because of that.. and because of connections in the medical field.. I was able to be referred to a brain surgeon in the next state over and with state of the art technology and much more experience. I proceed to get to know my baby with my family and a couple of friends close by. But this time in a different hospital room. One not equipped for new mothers. I learned how to use a breast pump for the first time (no breastfeeding because of all the meds). And I slept a lot. I also received my first anointing of the sick this day and the hospital gave me a receiving blanket for comfort.

It’s easier to replay the details step by step than it is to think of the situation as a whole and really imagine myself back there. It is a fever dream and something that I would say would never happen to me if you knew the kind of blessed and beautiful life I’d had up to that point. There are so many nuanced details and experiences that no one will ever know about and it’s painful. Not one person on this earth can really know what I went through. Thank God, there is God. My light in the darkness. The saving grace and the miracle worker. All I have is myself and he. And the rest is just ancillary to the story. Thank you God for where I am today. Although I wish this part of my story was never in your plan for my life, I am actively choosing to try and understand it. I want to do good in your name and I want your will to wash over me and my life.

“And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us” – Hebrews 12:1

When I started this blog I saw the vision.. use God’s words and miracles in my life to portray how He guided me out of the darkness and depths of my story. I had subconsciously insinuated in my head that I would know the solution by now or that getting out of the depths would be a one time deal. Life is hard. Living with my diagnosis is hard. Being a mom is hard. Being a wife is hard. Dealing with health anxiety is hard. If it’s not recovering from brain surgery, it’s worrying every day that it’s going to come back. It’s seeing the consequences in the mirror every day. It’s being scared, not happy, when you accidentally lose 30 pounds without trying. It’s always knowing you need to enjoy life, but being exhausted and stressed. It’s the little hand and foot twitches that jolt you back to reality a couple of times a day. It’s the unruly hairs that have grown in from the surgery. Still about 24 inches shorter than the rest of my hair.. it’s exchanging birth recovery stories and feeling anxiety to speak about your experience. It’s thinking back 12 months ago at how excited you were for this year and how you were so looking forward to not being pregnant and having your body back. Jokes on me. The devil has my body while I try to keep my brain and my heart with God. See even that sentence alone is triggering because if this analogy is actually supposed to make sense, the physical specimen of my brain belongs to the devil (cancer) and my mind belongs to God. But how tricky that is. I am missing 2 golf balls worth of my personality, my empathy, and my attention. So is my mind really even there? Is it the same? Is it all so hard because those 2 golf balls were what made me, me? Is the depression and anxiety me? Or is the devil’s chemistry messing with my brain? Everywhere I go is hard. Mentally, physically, emotionally. Spiritually seems to be a safe space and maybe that is the point of this blog, this journey. That I most certainly will not have all the answers nor most answers. But I will be able to glean from it all that my spirituality and my relationship with God is a trusted friend. That I am able to rely on God to be the rock and the salvation to keep me going another day. Amen.

I am noticing the signs that God is there. One of my favorite psalms. The basis of one of my favorite songs – Still Waters by Lauren Crawford (give it a listen). It helped me through the pain of my best friend losing her dad. Psalm 23 was woven into his funeral beautifully and so poetically that it made me weep. It helped me through dark days and nights not knowing what my life was going to be like post surgery. through follow ups and disappointments. Through daily struggles and anxiety and depression.

The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want he leads me by still waters till my fears are gone through I walk through the valley of the shadow of death oh I know you are with me my father my friend. Your goodness and mercy will follow me all of my days. I know by your still waters I’m safe.

One of my favorite lines in the song is “write scripture on your heart for when you need it”. I sing this song daily sometimes hourly sometimes nonstop. It’s a beacon of light a constant reminder that God is there and he will lead us to the path we are meant to walk.

Life has been really hard. There’s been death, new life, and stumbles and struggles in between. My great aunt passed away suddenly, my cousin’s newborn had to be flown 200 miles to a better hospital, my best friend’s dad died suddenly, my dad with his own health complications was in a scary car accident and totaled his car. It’s heavy. My doctor told me that having another baby could have variable results. Assuming he meant both with tumor growth and seizure activity. Neither of which are fair. My son is struggling to eat solid foods and has relied heavily on breast milk. Both of which stress me out and cause strain on my body. I’ve lost 25 pounds for no good reason.

It’s really hard most days to not get caught up in the things that pain me. I can so quickly turn a blind eye to the blessings and the miracles in God’s works and wonders. I know innately now that I am so lucky to be here and to be alive. I am so lucky to spend another thanksgiving with family and with my grandmother who is 85. I am so lucky to be able to use my body to carry my son and to help him learn to walk. I am so lucky that my husband comes home after work safely and healthy. But. The cloud of darkness is thick. Some days it’s like a severe fog warning that permeates into every square inch and every crevice allowable in my head. It tells me I have nothing. It tells me that everywhere I go and everything I turn to is hard. It fogs (literally) my judgement and my mood and my spirit and my reactions and my love.

Advent is a time of hope, of new coming, of celebration. I hope to build off that faith and that strengthening connection I have with our Savior.

Lord, may your love and mercy be what permeates every thought and every breath that I have. “For over all, the Lord’s glory will be shelter and protection: shade from the parching heat of day, refuge and cover from storm and rain” – Isaiah 4:6

trying to remind myself there’s no rules. Though my mind knows no bounds. As I’ve found over the past 10 months it will go to the darkest of places without needing help. Like holding your three week old boy and not knowing if you’ll be able to see him grow up. Which sounds selfish and unholy. The reality is that only God knows the number of days we have left. And I would rather be sick than have it be my son.

There’s something life changing about the guttural feeling of fear and angst that you might miss your son growing up. That he would have to live without a mom. That your husband would be forced to figure it out without. The two together and alone in this world. The realization that they might be okay eventually and they might figure it out without you. The actual physical pull of gravity on the tears and the weight of the emotions in your eyes. How easy it is to go back to that place. Even if today is better, the darkness isn’t far beyond the surface.

“If God is for us, who can be against us?” – Romans 8:31

The blog is called From the Depths but some days, some weeks, remind you that you’re still in the depths. When life gets overwhelming and scary, it’s easy to slip back into the rut, the fear, and especially the depression. I need to be better and quicker about calling out to God for help. “What will separate us from the love of Christ?” (Romans 8:35). For me it is getting news that wrecks what I thought my future would look like. Not enjoying my job, but needing the health insurance. It’s getting wrapped up in all the other happenings of life that seem unfair. Losing or almost losing 3 people in my life. Calling on God now. “Help me, O Lord, my God; save me, in your mercy.” (Psalm 109:26).

Lord, please give me grace that I sometimes get wrapped up in my own hardships and I lose sight of your comfort. I know that you are always there for me and I am not alone, thank you Lord.

292 zaps. Or taps. One of the many kinds of weird sounds an MRI machine makes. The follow ups have been easier. I’m prepared physically and mentally. Deep breaths, prayers, songs in the background. When in doubt, counting the number of sounds I hear. Another needle. 25 minutes that other people don’t have to spend.. another reminder of all that I’ve gone through and the reality of my life and my future. Now we wait.. 2-3 weeks for the results. Prayer time

My journals before it happened.

12/30/2024 – “Dear God, please give me a sign that your timing is divine and that you have a plan for me and my baby and our family.”

12/31/2024 – “..whatever your plan is, Lord, I will follow. Please keep your loving hand over us today and keep us both healthy and safe..”

It’s bone chilling to read these entries when it was me before. Before being a mom and before having cancer. I prayed to God a lot of days in 2024. He’s always been a part of my life, but prayer never seemed to really click for me. Journaling and thanking God daily seemed to bring me closer than other forms. Before, though, I would pray because it seemed like the right thing to do. Not because I felt it in my soul that I needed to pray.

That’s why I get chills thinking about myself writing that I will follow God’s plan before I had any little idea of what it would be. Being a mom and meeting my son so soon was certainly part of that prayer and a lot of the anxiety that I felt at the time. But, all that was to come after meeting my son was not part of any plan that I could have imagined. I have chosen to believe that there is a greater purpose in this. And how God’s timing really truly was divine and how his miracles saved my life in more ways than one. And that there is something that will come from this that will help take away the hurt a little bit at a time. Maybe even help others. And certainly will shape me into the person I am supposed to be, to live and love like Jesus did.