Is the Ability to Feel a Curse or a Blessing?

In a world where "zombie" pills and numbing concoctions are becoming the normal way to cope with the hazards and heartaches of life, I want to encourage the concept that being able to feel is a blessing. It is NOT a function we should shut down psychologically, nor with pharmaceuticals.

I recently lost my sweet baby girl and in an effort to not hurt so much, my initial instinct was to shut down my feelings. If I can't feel, I can't hurt, right?

Right.

But if I can't hurt, then I can't feel love and joy either.

Should I curl up in a ball and hide myself from anything unpredictable or that involves any amount of risk?

"Don't be afraid, enjoy the ride!" (at Disneyland with my son)

Should I never want to have anymore kids so that I won't have to risk feeling like this ever again? 

My father shared the following quote soon after my daughter passed away. It has been helpful for me to remember this concept:

"...In this life no one can have real love without eventually dealing with real loss, and we certainly can't rejoice over one's birth and joy of living unless we are prepared to understand and accommodate and accept with some grace the inevitability--including the untimeliness--of difficulty and trouble and death. These are God's gifts to us--birth and life and death and salvation, the whole divine experience in all its richness and complexity." (from Shepherds, Why This Jubilee by Jeffrey R. Holland, pg. 68-76)

This quote reminds me that the deepest love is only made possible through the deepest pain. To lose something, you have to have had something worth missing in the first place, otherwise you'd never miss what was lost. 

Having and losing my daughter was well worth the intense, unavoidable pain that accompanied her because I was blessed to experience such a profound, enduring love. This present pain I feel will eventually fade, but I'll have this love within me, burning bright, to carry with me and enrich my existence forever.

If you never take the risk to open yourself up, yes, you won't be vulnerable to experiencing pain, but you'll also miss out on opportunities to feel love and joy, to really feel alive. The pain and heartache you expose yourself to is what makes peace and love feel so sweet, so be brave! Embrace the ability to feel as the gift that it truly is. 

Coming soon: Watch for a future post where I plan to expound on how to cope with pain, anxiety, stress, and depression, rather than having to be numbed by the wave of pills that doctors so readily prescribe. I will not be bashing on doctors, nor on appropriately used medication, but I'd like to encourage alternative coping mechanisms that can help fix the problem, rather than just covering it up.

Rylee Rose Part 1: Pregnancy

I don't know where to start. So, I'm just going to start typing and see where my fingertips lead me...

I'm hesitant to be too detailed in these posts. I will do my best to avoid sharing unimportant details. My more in-depth feelings will probably be expressed later on in separate posts. I just wanted to share a brief overview of what happened so people know where I'm coming from...

We finally felt at a place in our lives to be able to take the leap to try having another baby. Our son was already almost 6 years old. We were ready for our family to grow and for our son to have a sibling. We finally had a better grasp on how to best raise our child diagnosed with autism and the need for extensive therapies was subsiding due to how much he has progressed, allowing us to pursue another pregnancy and all that comes with it. I had Hyperemesis Gravidarum (severe morning sickness) during my first pregnancy so we had to be prepared for the down-time that I would need if a future pregnancy was as bad as my first.   

After a positive pregnancy test, we eventually announced we were expecting our baby, due in the beginning of March 2015.

I experienced intense "morning" sickness for a majority of my pregnancy, throwing up an average of 3-6 times per day, with steady nausea, from late-July thru October. For the remainder of my pregnancy, I only threw up about 1-2 times per day. That all sounds miserable, and it was, but it could have been worse and I was very motivated. I didn't ever take any anti-nausea medicine because they didn't help much during my last pregnancy (including a traumatizing allergic reaction to Reglan) and I didn't want to risk any bad side effects on me or the baby. For the most part, I worked hard to force myself to eat and to keep everything under control. I only had one UTI which we caught quickly and I never needed to go to the hospital to be treated for dehydration. I was much more prepared for everything the second time around, compared to my first pregnancy. 

My son drew this picture of our family (and our expected baby) on one of my hardest days while being sick. Without anyone suggesting it, he drew this and brought it to me to cheer me up. Needless to say, it melted my heart and was exactly what I needed to remember why I was going through these difficult things.

 We found out the gender on October 21st, 2014. I made Nick think the ultrasound wasn't happening until later in the week and I surprised him and Eli with a PINK cake. It was a GIRL! We could hardly believe it but we were beyond excited! 

Click here for Rylee Rose Part 2: Delivery

Rylee Rose Part 2: Delivery

The following is a summary of the series of events that led to me having an emergency c-section while only 24 weeks pregnant. I realize that people may be curious about what exactly happened but are probably too afraid to ask. I don't mind sharing, especially if there's any chance people can learn from my experiences/mistakes. Please refer to this post if you begin wondering why I share personal experiences.

I started slightly spotting Tuesday morning. I called my doctor's office but they said that I didn't need to worry unless I was in pain or bleeding. I didn't have either of those symptoms so, I didn't worry.

By Wednesday and Thursday (Thanksgiving) I had a few more moments of spotting or discharge but no pain and no blood. I was only slightly uncomfortable, with occasional mild Braxton hicks, which is not uncommon for the average pregnant woman. I felt like I had to pee all the time which once again is very common for any pregnant woman.

By Friday morning, November 28th (Black Friday), it seemed like I was losing my cervical plug which usually only happens closer to when you are going to deliver a baby, so I called my doctor. It was a holiday weekend but thankfully my doctor happened to be the doctor "on call." He almost didn't have me go in to get checked but since I am an experienced mother who has already delivered a baby in the past, he said I should probably go to the ER to get checked, just to be safe. So I very hesitantly went to the ER. I felt like they were just going to say I was fine and send me back home. However, when I started feeling a very, very slight lower back cramp on my way to the hospital, I felt like it was probably good I was getting checked just to be safe.

I figured the hospital staff would say I was fine and just send me back home, so I had Nick stay home with Eli where they were playing a game together, rather than drag them to the hospital with me or arrange a babysitter for no reason. 

I arrived at the ER at 11:15am and these are

the messages Nick and I sent to each other.

Me:      I feel so stupid. They're gonna make me

            ride in a wheelchair. I feel silly (11:21am)

            But they're taking me to labor and

            delivery to get checked. I'm glad I'm

            getting checked. I don't feel good.

Nick:    You are a queen. You should.
            Well keep me updated. We'll pray for you.

Me:      Yea
            Thanks

            I just feel like crying. And I want to sleep.

            But I'm already in a room and it's nice

            and quiet and peaceful. (11:28am)

They routinely brought me to a room. After I changed into a hospital gown, the nurse checked my cervix and she calmly said she was going to go get my doctor to have him check me too. After my doctor checked me, he said to the nurse, "You're absolutely right." He then told me that I was already dilated to 7 cm, my body was delivering my baby and there was no way to stop it. I was apparently experiencing "silent labor" and my baby was breech so they would have to do a c-section. The doctors didn't know why it happened but they did have a name for it: incompetent cervix. There was no explanation for why my body went into early labor. It's especially puzzling since I had already carried my first 9 lb. baby full-term without any problems. Even if I had a clue as to what caused this to happen, it's pointless to speculate when we will probably never know. All I know is that it happened and there's no changing it.  

Needless to say, I was shocked but there wasn't much time to process anything. As they began asking me a million questions and hooking me up to machines and IVs, I immediately sent a message to Nick...

Me:      Get a babysitter right now.

            And come to the hospital right now.

            Our baby is coming today. (11:53am)

To say the least, the next few hours were an emotional and physical roller coaster. As they prepared me for surgery, I tried to find a babysitter for our son and I notified my mom so she could come as quickly as possible. One of our sweet friends watched Eli and Nick rushed to the hospital.

When my doctor had taken my hand and kindly told me I was having my baby that day, tears hit me immediately, but I tried my best to stay calm. As long as my baby was going to be okay, I was excited to get to meet her. In my mind, premature babies survive a majority of the time these days. I was trying to stay calm and not be nervous or worried but I couldn't stop shaking. It could have been from the cold IV fluid being pumped into me or from the shock of everything, or both. But after the anesthesiologist stuck her big needle into my spine, I was finally able to relax because I no longer could feel my freezing cold feet and my body finally felt warm.   

Nick arrived at the hospital before I was moved to the operating room. They began the surgery soon after. I know we were both nervous but we got through the surgery cheerfully, to the best of our ability. Our tiny Rylee Rose was born at 1:07pm on Friday, November 28th, 2014, when I was 24 weeks along. She weighed 1 lb. 9 oz. and was 12.25 inches long. As soon as she was born, I heard one precious whimper come out of her mouth.  It was her first and probably her last breath that she took on her own. 

I heard Rylee make a sound but I never got to see her while in the operating room. A group of people immediately went to work on her and I was taken straight to a recovery room where I had to stay for a while before getting to go see Rylee in the NICU. 

Nick & I in the recovery room right after the c-section surgery

It was common sense to expect such a premature baby to need special attention but without being able to see her or know what condition she was in, I had no idea what to think or how much hope I should allow myself to feel. But none of that mattered. At this point, we were simply hoping for the best and excited to meet our baby girl. Her heartbeat had always been perfectly strong during my pregnancy and was still strong even while I was in labor, so I had high hopes that she would be okay. They told us she would probably have to stay in the NICU for a few months so that is what we were planning on. We certainly weren't expecting her to pass away.

My first time seeing Rylee

As they wheeled me in my bed from the recovery room towards my actual hospital room where I would be staying, we stopped by the NICU where I finally got to see Rylee for the first time. My heart was racing more than I realized. From moving around so much and my excitement to see Rylee, I almost threw up. I had to take a moment to relax and calm myself down. Turns out that I was on a medication that can make you nauseated and the full meal I ate before going to the hospital didn't help either. But anyways, overall, it was an enjoyable moment of finally getting to see my teeny tiny baby girl. It was hard to see her hooked up to so many tubes but I was grateful for the life-saving technology that was available to her.

After briefly visiting Rylee, I was taken to my room where I was confined to my bed with machines wrapped around my legs to encourage circulation. It was torture being stuck in my room instead of being able to be by my baby, but there was no arguing it. I needed to be in bed for a good while after surgery. The only productive thing I could do for Rylee was to start trying to get my milk to come in by pumping. So that's what I did.

This birth story post is harder to put together than I thought it would be. It's very draining. I feel very driven and anxious to get it done, but sometimes I can only handle doing little portions at a time. Even though everything happened in less than 48 hours, I definitely wasn't able to write all of this in one sitting. I doubt, though, that it's ever going to be any easier to write about, so I want to get it done before I forget any part of it. After Rylee was born, everything became blurry in the whirlwind of events that transpired. It was such an emotionally and physically draining time for me, on pain meds, sleep deprived, and shocked, so it takes a lot of concentration to work it all out in my mind. But all the more reason why I need to write it all down...so back to writing I go...

After surgery on Friday, I was doing really well. I was happy, excited, and optimistic. I hadn't heard much from the NICU about Rylee's condition but I figured they were busy doing tests on her and helping get her situated. Nick had met with the NICU doctor once who warned Nick of all the typical risks and concerns for such a premature baby, but we still thought she would be okay. 

Eli visiting me for the first time after surgery.

Eli got to meet his little sister Friday evening. It was an exciting time. We were all happy. I'm so glad he got to meet her during a happy time. Nick took him to meet Rylee and my sister went with them and took an adorable video of the whole thing, since I was stuck in bed. We had to have his immunization record in order for him to be allowed to go in the NICU and then he had to wash his hands for 3 minutes straight. It was so sweet when he saw her. He was in awe of his precious baby sister.  

A snap-shot from the video of Eli meeting his sister for the first time.

I can't even tell you how incredibly grateful I am that Eli got to meet his sister while she was still alive. He had been so excited about us having a baby, all throughout my pregnancy, so I don't know how I would have ever been able to explain to him that I wasn't pregnant anymore if he never got to see our baby. That is one of the many blessings that I count and cling to.

It wasn't a surprise that not much sleep happened Friday night, with all the excitement that happened earlier in the day and with all of the nurses checking things every hour or two. My body also itched like crazy, especially my legs. Nick probably wasn't very comfortable either on the guest couch "bed" that I'm pretty sure wasn't designed with tall men in mind. He ended up sleeping on a cushion on the floor. Eli was at our home with my mom and sister.  I was up most of that night. I never turned on the TV. I pretty much just laid there, staring at the clock, with my mind racing all over the place. I would try to sleep but I swear, time was in slow-motion. Every time I opened my eyes and looked at the clock, instead of hours passing, only a few minutes had gone by! I was so anxious for it to be morning so I could see Rylee again. 

Click here for Rylee Rose Part 3: Peaceful Passing

Rylee Rose Part 3: Peaceful Passing

My journal entry early Saturday morning, November 29, 2014:

"I've only seen her once so far. I am very anxious to physically progress from my c-section as quickly as possible so that I can go see her again and help her be healthy in every way that I can. My biggest focus is to pump a lot so I can get the breast milk that she needs. Nick is going to try to donate blood for her today, if they are a match. We love her so much and are praying so hard for her. There are tons of people praying for her which we are very grateful for. We are striving to keep our faith strong in God's will, but we are praying that God's will allows us to keep her here with us to enjoy her spirit in our family on earth for as long as possible. We are really anxious to get to know our sweet daughter and take the best loving care of her that we can. Her future is in God's hands and I know I must trust in Him because He knows best and has a greater plan than our mortal eyes can see."

I did progress quickly. I was very motivated! I was able to get the machines off my legs and get up out of bed first thing in the morning so I could ride in a wheel chair to the NICU. I got to touch Rylee for the first time that morning. 

It didn't feel right to want to touch her though when she looked so fragile. Her delicate body was bruised in some places and was so tiny. So, I hardly wanted to touch her because I was afraid of hurting her. It was a very odd moment because I wanted so badly to hold her and touch her but reality restrained my hand. I briefly caressed her arm and leg, but I couldn't touch her for very long. I just wanted her safe and sound with her cocoon closed back up.

Nick's hand next to Rylee to show the scale of how small she was.

The hope and excitement that I had carried with me was slowly cut down throughout the events that unfolded Saturday. We finally had a sit-down meeting with the NICU doctors who reviewed the results of the extensive tests that were done on Rylee and they revealed the reality of her condition. Things weren't looking as good as we had hoped. It was very difficult to transition to acknowledging that Rylee might not make it, especially since I am such a big believer in miracles. Was I supposed to hold on to hope or was I supposed to brace myself for tragedy by not getting my hopes up?  

I remember the moment when Nick and I decided that we needed to just stay optimistic in order to stay strong. Whether Rylee made it or not, what good would it have been for us to give up hope and start grieving before she had even gone. If she did survive, we would have wasted time being depressed for no reason. And if she didn't survive, we still would have been wasting our precious time being depressed rather than being happy with her in the short time we had left with her.

To give up hope would have rendered us debilitated. We wouldn't have been able to make important decisions with such clarity if we had let our minds be clouded by doubt and depression. I'm very grateful we made the choice to face the unknown with hope and faith in God's will. That made all the difference in the remainder of this difficult day. Nothing changed in our circumstances except our attitude and our choice to be strong, in fact our circumstances got worse throughout the day, but because of that choice, we were able to bear the unbearable. This choice was possible because of all the great examples in our lives of people we had seen be strong. We wanted to be strong like they were through their hard times. Witnessing others overcome their trials is a powerful force that can give you hope that in spite of your human weaknesses, you have the ability to be strong too.

Saturday felt like a lifetime. And I suppose it was in a way, for our daughter. We acknowledged the reality of her premature condition but we also hoped for a miracle if it was God's will. Nothing was anatomically wrong with her. There was nothing visually wrong with the pregnancy to cause my body to evict her early. The only thing that was holding her back was that her lungs were too premature and nothing was really working to get them to open up. Multiple rounds of surfactant had been given but were ineffective. If the doctors had had any type of warning and could have pumped steroids into me while stalling labor, that could have helped her chances significantly. But that wasn't in our luck. There was no time to do anything like that. Sometimes babies her age could pull through but it's hard to predict within the first few days after birth. At one point, we thought her lungs had opened up. My doctor came and told me he had heard that she was doing better and that her lungs had opened up.

The texts between Nick & I of our short-lived excitement when we were told Rylee's lungs opened up.

I thought a miracle had happened. But unfortunately, as we later learned, my doctor was mistaken.

One of my dear friends came Saturday afternoon to meet Rylee. Nick and I took her with us to the NICU around 5-5:30pm. When we got there, there were a lot of nurses hustling around Rylee. We had to wait a moment before going over to her. Once we got to go see her, we noticed she was moving a lot which we thought was a good sign. When we mentioned it to the head nurse, she told us that the movements were actually seizures and that things weren't looking good. She needed Nick and I to discuss with the head doctor over the phone what was going on because it wasn't looking like Rylee would live much longer. There's not much you can do in a moment like this except for keep putting one foot in front of the other. After a long conference call in a private room with the head doctor and nurse, we were notified that they had done absolutely everything that they possibly could for Rylee but she was not doing better and was getting worse. She probably wouldn't make it. We had to make a choice about what to do next. I can't remember the medical terminology. My mind can only remember single words or phrases like:

"lungs not opening"

"respiratory failure"

"lack of oxygen to the brain"

"seizures"

"hemorrhaging"

"life support"

We decided to keep her hooked up to everything but we would go ahead and hold her and say our goodbyes. We also made sure they gave her whatever she needed to not feel any pain.

We had my parents come to the hospital with Eli. We met in the NICU at 6 pm when it was temporarily closed to visitors so that we could have some privacy. My husband, our bishop from church, and my dad administered a blessing to Rylee, taking one more chance to place her life in God's hands, which gave me great peace to let God know that we wanted His will to be done. It was so relieving to let go and let God take control.

A team of several people worked together to transfer Rylee and her life support equipment from her incubator to my chest. 

I was seated in a chair and they taped all the tubes to my hospital gown, with Rylee on my chest, skin-to-skin.

This was my first and last time holding my baby girl. I was the only one who got to hold her while she was alive. We touched her, kissed her, sang to her, and said our goodbyes. We held her little hands and rubbed her tiny back. We calmly waited and watched as her heart-rate slowly dropped.

Rylee holding Eli's finger.

Rylee holding her daddy's finger.

Rylee holding her daddy's finger.

Rylee Rose passed away peacefully in my arms at approximately 7pm, Saturday, November 29th, 2014. Her short life spanned about 30 hours. I can't really write much more about it. There aren't really words or time for it all right now. It was painful but beautiful, sorrowful but sweet. I need to always remember that I truly felt at peace when she passed away. I was heartbroken to say the least, but I was relieved for her to not have to suffer anymore. 

After she passed away, the nurses disconnected her from most of her tubes so that Nick could have a chance to hold her. 

Our sweet little sleeping beauty

Our last moments with her, after she had passed away, before we had to leave her. 

Official cause of death: 

Respiratory failure/ Respiratory distress syndrome, due to extreme prematurity.

Conclusion:

Would it have been easier to not have ever been pregnant to begin with? Yes, I suppose; however, I would have missed out on an enriching depth in my life that I now enjoy only because I had her.

Would it have been better to not have gotten my hopes up after she was successfully delivered and after her doctor said her lungs opened up? No. What good would doubt have done for me? It's always better to choose to have hope, rather than hope's unproductive opposite, pessimism. I'm so glad that I spent my short amount of time with her, grasping for hope, rather than being distracted from the present by despair. 

Would it have been easier if I had gotten to spend more time with her? Or would it have been easier if I had gotten to spend less time with her? Do I wish things could have turned out differently? This list of questions could go on forever. "The grass is always greener" if you waste enough time looking for a greener field. But... it doesn't make your actual field any greener by focusing on someone else's.

With all of the "what-ifs" and "if-onlys," that I could endlessly wish for, I have to focus on what actually was in order to keep my sanity and to be able to move forward in life.

I was pregnant with a perfectly developing baby girl.

Rylee was born too early but...

...it was not my fault.

She was fragile but...

...she was alive.

Her chances were slim but...

...there was still hope.

I was happy.

I was excited.

I was in love.

After becoming aware of the reality of Rylee's deteriorating condition, I was worried.

When I officially found out that she might not make it, I was overwhelmed.

When I desperately turned to God for help and guidance, I was strengthened.

When I was told she wasn't going to make it, I was heartbroken, but...

...I was able to be strong when I needed to be.

I was able to hold her in my arms, next to my heart, which helped me be able to breathe.

I was there for her in every way that I could be for her short life on earth until her little heart stopped beating.

I was relieved for her to pass away and to not have to suffer anymore.

I was at peace with God's will because I knew He had the power to save my baby if it was the right thing to do, but He chose not to for a greater purpose that is beyond my limited mortal comprehension. 

Those are the facts. Although there are a lot of things I could wish were different, I have to count my many blessings. I am so grateful that I got to see her while she was alive and meet her. I got to name her, touch her briefly, and talk to her. Eli got to meet his sweet baby sister when there was still hope that she would survive. She was perfectly healthy except for the complications due to her lungs being too young and underdeveloped. I got to hold her in my arms before she passed away. I got to kiss her and sing to her. I got to be there as she passed away painlessly and peacefully. I am blessed with the knowledge that I will see her again someday, that she is my daughter forever, and she is in a better place now. 

Our one and only decent family picture with all four of us while she was alive. Families are forever.

Do Not Suffer in Silence

Be open about your hardships. Others may be able to help you and you may be able to help others.

Silence helps no one.

Putting yourself out there is scary and I'm not suggesting that you "cast your pearls before swine," but if there's any chance your selective words could uplift or strengthen someone in need, it's worth it to open your mouth. 

Being "open" does not mean to needlessly complain; it means to be more honest and real about your struggles or how you're feeling. However, do NOT aimlessly talk about your hardships; instead, DO SOMETHING CONSTRUCTIVE to survive and conquer them.

I'm deeply grateful for the several individuals who courageously reached out to my husband and I, after our baby girl passed away, to share their personal understanding of our grief, after losing children of their own. I'm so grateful they didn't keep their thoughts on the matter to themselves. Their encouraging words of hope and understanding brought a great amount of comfort. Simply knowing that we weren't alone in our heartbreak was helpful. It was helpful to know that if needed, there was someone whom we could turn to for advice as to how to get through it. They had "been there, done that," and they are still standing. If they survived it, perhaps we can too...

Although I am generally a reserved person, I feel strongly that I should begin being more open. It is my hope that there is someone in the world, even if it's just one person, who might be able to benefit from me sharing my personal experiences and coping strategies. Being open is mutually beneficial because if my experiences help someone else, I am given the opportunity to transform my trial into a blessing for either me or someone else, or for both of us. This process gives my challenges more purpose and positive results, instead of just scars.

Introduction: Revive Your Inner Child

Congratulations! You're a grown up! You're now a responsible, overwhelmed, pessimistic adult. Supposedly, it's good to grow up. We're supposed to mature beyond the naive, innocent mind of a child. However, being a kid isn't as bad as we might have once thought.  And becoming an adult doesn't require that we lose our true selves along the way.

At some point during my transformation to adulthood, I lost the resilience and uninhibited spirit of my youth. I want it back. I yearn to be a kid again. I don't mean that in a mid-life-crisis kind of way. I am saying that there are a lot of admirable traits that children naturally possess before the grown-up world changes them.

It's a necessary part of life to grow up, but I propose that the world would benefit from more adults acting like un-jaded children. I assume that most people personally know a thirteen-going-on-thirty year-old and a sixty-going-on-sixteen year-old. Kids are too anxious to grow up and adults wish they were young again. With enough effort and practice, it has to be possible to achieve a healthy balance between the two opposite mind sets.

Finding the right balance between being a mature adult, while still being true to your inner child would be the ideal way to not only survive life, but to also thrive in life. This type of person would be an optimistic realist. They would be sincere, but not too serious; playful, yet still capable of depth; and fearless, with a healthy amount of caution. They would also be a resilient sponge, capable of soaking up life's experiences, while still being able to bounce back and expand from strenuous challenges and setbacks.

I often hear of the youthful beauty that adults long for, but I rarely hear grown-ups yearning for the forgiving, resilient, spontaneous, and fearless spirit of their childhood. Sure, I miss my adolescent abs and the ability to eat whatever I wanted without gaining weight, but what I miss more is how fearless I was and how easy it was to let things slide off my back.

Moments from my childhood...

I used to be so resilient when I was younger. Yes, bad things happened but I didn't let them keep me down. Then one day, I woke up as an adult to find that I could no longer simply shake "things" off. Life got serious. Life got scary. It was hard to feel like there was a point to keep on going. Wounds no longer healed and scars resurfaced. My defenses were suddenly gone and my soul was taking a merciless beating. It was hard to care without getting hurt, so then I tried to care less.  But hardening my heart and caring less didn't solve my problems. Caring less certainly didn't make life more fulfilling or enriching. I've since realized that how much we "care" and "feel" isn't what matters most; what matters most is how we react.

This blog is my attempt to put a spotlight on all of the good that can come from every challenge, circumstance, and tragedy. It is our choice how we choose to react to the things that happen in our life. It may occasionally require some extra creativity and a resuscitation of the resiliency of our youth, but with the right perspective and mindset, something good can be found in every obstacle. I look forward to exploring and dissecting the pattern of how people find ways to cope with life and overcome their challenges.