MiaBella

It's been a while since I've had an interview go up for #themomstrongproject, and I'm so excited to share this one with you. Mia is a 16 year-old girl who had an incredible impact on me when I worked for Make A Wish Foundation before nursing school. Her example of selfless love got me through a difficult time. She truly has a heart of gold. I know you'll love her and this story.

Tell me your story and when life began to change for you?

I was eleven years old at the time and was really athletic. I had just tested for my first-degree black belt and was playing in many soccer tournaments on the premier team. I was healthy, in-shape, and had never been very sick before in my life. Everything was good until that spring of 2011. It was then I started feeling flu-like symptoms coming on. I had a big soccer tournament coming up, and after two weeks of fighting this “flu bug,” I decided to go play anyways. During my tournament, my Dad began to notice something different. I seemed more tired and not my usual, energetic self. I came home and my sickness got worse. I stayed on the bathroom floor all day, and even a sip of water would send me throwing up immediately. Everything that went in, came right back out. My body was rejecting everything.

In my family, whenever one of us is sick, it’s kind of that “tuck your chin and get through it” mentality, where you just sleep by the toilet and pull through it. But this was getting so bad, we started thinking maybe I needed to get to the hospital where they could keep me hydrated better.

We ended up in the InstaCare, and they poked me nine times to try to get an IV started. I was so dehydrated, they were unable to get an IV in, and sent me directly to Primary Children’s Hospital ER where they immediately got one in. At this point I was in and out of consciousness. They started fluids, got some lab work, and decided to do an ECHO, which is basically an ultrasound for your heart. They checked my heart and realized I was shockingly in heart failure. What? Heart failure? It came to us completely as surprise. I had just been playing soccer the week before. How was I in heart failure?

They decided to do a quick procedure to try and get the heart to start pumping correctly again, and kept me overnight in the CICU. Still intubated the next day I went into cardiac arrest. My Mom and Dad were downstairs in the cafeteria when one of the attending doctors came running in, tears in his eyes, and said you need to come now. My dad stood outside the room watching and I know they had to have security come to help him, because he was having a really hard time. The doctors and nurses performed over 50 minutes of CPR.

A surgeon who just happens to be the father of one of my classmates was off that day but called in from home to help with the emergency. When he got there he saw my mom sitting near my room crying. He said, “What are you doing here?”  My mom told him, “It’s Mia.” My mom said the look on his face when he ran into that room was filled with concern. They both knew what he needed to do to save my life.

I was put on ECMO, or extracorporeal life support. ECMO is designed to provide temporary support when other forms of conventional life support fail. It’s a machine that mechanically supports someone’s circulation and gas exchange, normally performed by the heart and lungs, thus giving those organs a chance to rest and recuperate. Usually patients don’t stay on it longer than a week. It’s strange because I don’t recollect anything from that time, except for tiny snippets of things: flashbulb memories. These flashbulb memories only last about 30 seconds, but they’re really vivid... like the smell of certain things, or some noises. But for most of this, I have no recollection.

The team, including my parents, decided that week that a heart transplant was the only chance for my survival. They didn’t know if I was brain-dead or not, and before I was able to qualify for the heart transplant list, they had a team come in to analyze and verify to see if I was a good candidate for a transplant or not. My dad always tells me this story... He says the team had come in to assess me and had asked me to squeeze their hand, but I never responded. They’d say, “Mia, can you squeeze my hand?” and I just lay there. My Dad was in the corner of the room watching in disbelief, and he knew this was something important for them to see. As the team was heading out the door, my Dad came up to my bedside and yelled in my ear, “Mia, squeeze my hand right now! This is your father. You need to squeeze my hand right now!” Apparently, I had opened my eyes, just for a split second, enough to connect with my Dad, and my hand squeezed his. This interaction was just enough to convince the team I was eligible for a transplant.

My doctors fought for me to be put at the top of the list. I received a heart in just three days, which in itself is a miracle: June 5, 2011. Normally, I know this process takes months to years for most people, and so I felt really lucky. Because my lungs were full of fluid and my kidneys were failing, they kept me intubated for a period of time not being able to move from my bed. I lost about 55-75% of my muscle mass. My thighs and my calves were smaller than my knees, and I couldn’t walk or move without help. I had been intubated for so long, I had to relearn how to talk and reuse my voice to project. I had to relearn how to swallow and eat. I had to relearn how to write.

After about two months, things started picking up, and going smoothly. I haven’t had a single problem since being fully recovered after my transplant. I haven’t even had to stay in the hospital since, which will be 6 years this June. I feel really lucky. Most all of my friends who were with me during that time in the hospital getting their heart transplants, have had problems with rejection or they’ve needed a lot of interventions after their transplants. My heart has been amazing. It’s incredible.

At eleven years old did you fully comprehend the seriousness of having a heart transplant?

I specifically remember waking up right after my transplant. I woke up intubated and couldn’t talk. I remember looking over and seeing my dad sitting next to me. He

smiled at me and said, “Do you know where you are?’ I shook my head no. He said, “You’re in the hospital.” I felt confused and almost numb. He told me I had received a heart transplant, and I still didn’t quite understand what that meant. I was confused at how I had gone from playing soccer to being in a hospital bed. I saw all the tubes sticking out of me, not being able to talk, and thinking, Where am I? Who am I? I had a hard time remembering who I was. He asked me, “Are you angry?” I remember nodding yes and thinking, Yes, I am very angry. I was stuck, I couldn’t move, I didn’t know where I was, or how long I had been there. It was all very bizarre.

How did your parents cope with everything that had happened?

My parents were really tough through it all. But I know it was really hard for them too. Both my mom and dad lost a bunch of weight, and I knew they were scared. But I think it also taught them to live in the moment.

How did you cope?

For a long time, I kind of milked the “why me” card. I was angry. I didn’t understand why that had to happen to me. I felt like I didn’t deserve having to go through that; having to learn how to walk again, when soccer had been my life before. It just wasn’t who I was supposed to be. For a long time, I would just cry. I kept thinking it was a mistake. It just wasn’t who I was.

I don’t think I was really able to overcome those feelings and move on, until I was able to walk again. It was when I walked again that I felt something different. Something like, I can do this. When I was crippled and totally incapable, I felt pathetic, hopeless, and dirty. Everything felt wrong. Once I had control of some of those things again, I had a chance to rethink everything through. After that switch happened, I became super observant and open. I became willing and wanting to live each day the most that I could.

Tell me about your donor?

My donor’s name was Mikey. Mikey was seven when he got hit by a truck crossing the road. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about how grateful I am to him. He has a super strong heart. He’s like my little soldier in there, beating for me; my guardian angel.

Tell me about when you got referred to Make-A-Wish Foundation?

They contacted me soon after I had been released from the hospital, and I got the coolest invitation in the mail. It was this beautiful, fold-out invitation with a huge swan on the front, and a gold key inside. I was invited to come to the “Wishing House” and submit my wish to “The Wishing Wizard.” Make-A-Wish Foundation is a nonprofit organization that grants wishes to children ages 2-18 years old with a

life-threatening illness. Each child has a chance to make a wish, or something they’ve dreamt about. They can choose to go somewhere, to meet someone, to have something, or to be something. I came to the Wishing House and had the opportunity to think about and make my wish. I kept thinking, What could I possibly wish for? It was such a big opportunity, and I couldn’t think of something that could live up to it. I thought, Maybe it would be cool to go to the Olympics? But it didn’t seem quite right. I ended up choosing to “be a marine biologist” because it was something I was really excited about at the time.

One night I was thinking everything over. I was thinking about my wish, and also about my donor family. I had this realization that I wanted to give them something. I know that no matter what I give to them in this lifetime, it will never be equivalent to what they gave me. But every little thing that I can do, and can give them, feels really nice inside; because anything feels like something.

After thinking it over, I knew what I wanted my wish to be. We called the Make-A-Wish office and told them we’d like to change my wish. I told them I wanted to give my wish away to Mikey’s family who gave me my heart. They had given me the opportunity to live and create more amazing memories, so I want to give them an opportunity to make some good memories too.

Mikey’s family ended up going to Disney World and having a really good time. I knew I was doing the right thing, and it ultimately came down to knowing that they were happy. This experience made me so aware of people and it has helped me connect with others who are going through something difficult.

What are you involved with now?

After my transplant, I continued to do martial arts for a few more years and got my second-degree black belt. I stopped playing soccer but started to dance. I truly rebuilt myself through dance and through Soo Bahk Do, a self-defense form of martial arts. Soo Bahk really taught me how to be strong, emotionally and physically. The community that came with it was incredible and they gave me nothing but so much love. My teacher Brian Corrales really helped me rebuild myself. He gave me a lot of tough love, even when I didn’t want to go anymore. There were a lot of times when I wanted to just lay down and accept that I was going to be crippled for the rest of my life, he always made me get back up. Even if I would yell and scream at him, he would tell me to keep going. I got so much stronger through Soo Bahk, physically and emotionally, but dance helped me grow as a person in all different ways. It allowed me to grow to be who I am now.

Contemporary and modern dance is my love. It’s like a life to me. Right now I am a part of Virginia Tanner’s “Tipping Point,” and that community is so supportive to me. They are truly my best friends and those teachers have followed me all the way through my ups and downs. For the last year or two, I’ve been focusing on growing as a dancer and I’ve actually just committed to the University of Utah’s dance program.

I am also pretty interested in going into movement therapy. I know how much my physical therapists helped me. Physical therapy isn’t just physical, but it’s also really emotional. When you have the ability to help someone physically and emotionally at the same time, it can be extremely impactful. Physical therapy could be anything... from Soo Bahk to typical therapy. But what I know is that by going through the physical pain, is where I grew emotionally as a person.

What do you feel like it means to be a woman of strength?

 It was when I was most frustrated that I decided I was not going to have my transplant define me. If I would’ve just sat around and said, “Poor me,” and hung my head, then I would’ve allowed this thing that has happened to me, define who I was. But my transplant doesn’t define me. It doesn’t define who I am. There are so many other things that define me.

A strong woman, to me, is a woman who wakes up every morning with the intent to find her best self; to grow and to find her creativity, while enduring and persevering and knowing that the bad things that happen to her, don’t define her. Being strong means accepting what happens to you: living with it, coping with it, taking it in, learning how to live with it, and then releasing it and moving on. And while you’re taking in all these bad things that might be happening to you, you’re also taking in all these good things. You’re choosing to take priority in the good things, but you’re still accepting the bad. Because if you don’t accept the bad things, you can’t possibly grow in any way. A strong woman accepts the bad, while choosing the good. She gives the most she can to life. To me, that would define a strong woman.

Mia, thank you, for being a strong woman and for impacting my life in a beautiful way. I’m also grateful for that heart that beats inside you. Keep shining your light.

A note from Mia’s mother, Heidi:

This time in our life is and was very hard to comprehend, explain, and it’s still difficult to talk about. The ‘why us?’ or ‘why her?’ questions went through my head, while at the same time the ‘why does my daughter get to live and another child have to die?’ question will always be there. These are questions I will never have answers to, and I chose to only let them stay with me for a very short time. Having something like this happen to your child really makes you see things in life differently. The things you thought were a really “big deal” become trivial. The things I once thought were so important or created value, are not the same. I have a different perspective on life than I did before. Each day is a gift! I spend my days trying to create value and focus. We try to live each day in the present; individually, and as a family.  This year will be 6 years post-transplant for Mia, and we are actually traveling this coming May as a family to meet Mikey’s mother, father, and siblings for the first time. I am excited for them to hear his little heart beating so strong in my daughter’s chest. The gift of life is the ultimate gift and we should live each day trying to honor that.

Note to Nurses

My heart is feeling both broken and full at the same time tonight, and I'm having trouble spitting out the words. But I'm going to try. 

I'll never forget the moment I knew I wanted to be a nurse. I wasn't like the other students in my class. I had classmates who told me they knew from the time they were a little girl they wanted to be in scrubs with a stethoscope around their neck. When I was little, I wanted to be two things: an author, and the fastest woman in the world. I had never once considered something in the medical field. And getting to college and beginning as a graphic design major, my eyes were still far from looking down that road. After switching my major a few more times than the average student, all I knew was that my interests were all over the map. But one thing led to the next.

I began volunteering for Primary Children's Hospital as a music volunteer. Each Sunday after church, I carried my guitar up to the third floor and sat at the piano to play. I'd switch between the keys and my strings, playing some of my favorite tunes. When I felt a titch of extra bravery, I'd sing. It was the occasional passerby who would sit to listen. As I flooded the third floor with music each week, I kept seeing other volunteers wearing red shirts, and I began to look into other ways I could volunteer my time there. The place seemed to intrigue me and I felt something special there. It was different from other hospitals I had been to.

Before I knew it, I had joined the "red-shirts" and I found myself in the playroom with patients on Wednesday mornings: putting on "hospital-wide B-I-N-G-O", delivering prizes to their rooms, and getting some one-on-one time with the kids who walked their IV poles to the playroom for crafts and games. 

There was one particular morning when I really didn't feel like being there. I felt sluggish and tired. I had sleep to catch up on, homework had been piling up, and I didn't feel like I was interacting with anyone or making a difference that day. I dragged my feet the whole six flights of stairs, and felt the weight of all the books in my backpack that needed attention. It had only been a few minutes, when my supervisor got a call from a nurse in the PICU. She asked if there was "anyone who happened to play the guitar in the playroom, who could come play for a patient." My eyes lit up as I told her I played. I said I'd be right down. I hurried and grabbed the capo out of my backpack in the office, and made my way to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. When the double doors opened, I was surprised to see so many rooms; most with curtains drawn, and others wide open where I could see the patients surrounded by their families behind the glass; most faces looked sad and worried, and a few seemed to be doing okay. I gripped my guitar as I reached the end of the hall. That's when I entered her room. And that's when I saw something unexpected.

Still to this day, I don't know anything about this girl or what had happened to her, but she was violently shaking in the bed, almost seizure-like.  Her small body shook from head to toe, her mouth hung wide open with drool on the pillow next to her, and her eyes were fixated on the ceiling. My eyes connected quickly with her mother, who kindly pulled up a stool for me to sit on next to the bed.  In a sullen tone she told me, "Thank you for coming. She hasn't stopped shaking since she's been here, but she loves the guitar more than anything in this world. Could you play?"

I sat on the squeaky stool and strapped the capo on, while taking a deep breath. I was nervous. I didn't know what I would sing, but there was one song in particular that came to me almost instantly: "I Think of You." It was a song written by Sophie Rose Barton, a beautiful 17 year-old girl my younger brother's age who had tragically passed away the year before, in high school. I had learned it after her passing and knew it by memory.

The second I began to strum and sing, a calming wave swept over her shaking frame and she went entirely still. And through my tears that came in response, I knew she could hear me. She was listening. I could hear her mother crying from the opposite corner of the room, and I kept singing. 

I don't know if it was just coincidence or not, but I left that room knowing I had to be there that day, for that patient. And as I walked away, I knew my heart was telling me it wasn't just that girl who I needed to be there for. There were other kids who needed me there. They needed me the same way she did. And nursing school was going to get me there.

_________________

Let me tell you about what it means to be a nurse, and certain experiences I have had while having to earn/wear that badge.

I will never forget the time I watched a doctor stand at the edge of a bed and tell a family that their child had a new and terminal diagnosis; the sight of their hands tightened each other's grip and eyes falling to the floor. I really hope they felt the weight and love of my hug that afternoon, as I whispered "I'm so sorry," into that mother's ear. I meant it. 

I will never forget watching an adult woman finish throwing up on the cold bathroom floor of her dimly-lit room after receiving chemotherapy, and grasping the sink as she stared into the mirror. "Who could love me, looking like this?" she had whispered. I was there. And I loved her.

I will never forget sitting with a young women who had attempted to jump off the 3rd story of a building and to her dismay, had survived. Through the only eye she had left, she looked at me and said, "Why would anyone care?" to which I responded, "Because you're worth it." Because she was. 

I will never forget the homeless teenager I had cared for all day: his worn-out clothes and only pair of rugged shoes stuffed in a "belongings bag" in the corner of his room. He was brought in by a man who found him nearly unconscious and sick beneath a bridge. I had sat at the edge of his bed with all the love I could muster, and watched him scarf down all the food I brought to his bedside table. I listened to his worries and fears, and learned of his deep devotion and love to his family, who remained on the streets. I'll never forget the scared look in his eyes as the policeman entered his room putting his wrists in handcuffs. Even though I knew he had been wanted by the police and would be receiving more help, I couldn't help but close the bathroom door behind me and cry into my hands. I believed in him. I prayed for him. I still pray for him.

I will never forget the day I witnessed CPR on a young child for the first time. I watched the young mother crumble down the wall in shock. Could this be her child who was sitting in the car with her just moments before? That mother walked out her door that morning holding two pairs of hands, and left the hospital that day empty-handed. She lost both her beautiful girls in the accident.  I cried like a baby the entire drive home. I was there. And oh how I wished I could've better expressed my love for her.

I will never forget the baby who had been neglected and abused. We all took turns holding him at the nurses station throughout the night. As I rocked him and stroked his forehead with my finger, I will never forget the smile on his face. I've never seen a new baby smile as much as this one, and I wondered if it's because it was the only love he had ever felt from someone so far. I snuck a kiss on his tiny forehead when I tucked him back into bed before I left. And now I wonder about him, and how he's doing. Is someone loving him the way he should be loved?

I will never forget the mother with twins, who lost one unexpectedly in the morning from a life-threatening respiratory virus. I was the nurse who took care of the twin who had survived, that afternoon. As I sat there listening to the child's breaths, the mother sat across from me with tear-stained cheeks. She closed her eyes and whispered, "How did this happen? We were just watching Frozen last night together as a family. I don't understand." I usually have the right words to say. But in that moment, I didn't. Instead, I buried her head in my shoulder and we both shared our tears together.

Those are moments you never forget.

Some say angels walk those halls. And I believe them.

____________________

As a nurse, you have this sacred opportunity to take a step into one's most vulnerable moment; and almost share it with them in a way. It's something I can't adequately describe in writing, but it's the most beautiful thing I've ever been able to take part of. It softened every piece of my heart, it sanded any rough edges of judgement I used to have, and it has been an integral part of who I have become and what kind of person I always hope to be.

Today was my last day working as a nurse at Primary Children's Hospital. I took a moment to walk through the building toward the end of my shift, and take it all in. So many memories there. I've loved my time as a nurse in the hospital, but I'm leaving it to chase some other dreams for a bit... dreams that involve you and this community here. Leaving something that has shaped and challenged me in every way, has been more difficult than I imagined. I've truly spent countless hours, not to mention 6 years of college at the University of Utah, to achieve that dream of becoming a registered nurse. I'm forever grateful for my degree. I will always keep up my certification, so I can hop right back in if I need to. And there will probably come a time later on in life when I'll go back. But for now, I'm taking some steps in another direction and hoping for the best. I want to thank all of YOU for your support in this big decision, and for believing in me to continue to do what I love most... and that's to be here with YOU, teaching, encouraging, motivating, and adventuring. 

To close this note to nurses, let me stand by you and wrap my heart around you.

Thank you.

Thank you for working those long shifts, even when your legs ache and your eyes are bone-dry. Thank you for patience, for your concern, for your willingness to fight for what is right and good in the world, for your love, your knowledge, and your courage. 

You are the heartbeat of healthcare.

And just when you know each patient you come across needs you in order to heal, what you'll actually come to realize is that you, in fact, needed them too. 

All my love to nurses everywhere.

Our Angels

This is a draft.

It's unfinished, yet it feels best this way.

Maybe because we're still in the first chapters to our story...

 This year, I'm trying hard to allow more vulnerability into my life; to face it head on, to not be afraid of it... to show it, and share it. Vulnerability is what makes us human. It's what we have in common. It connects us to each other. So I'm taking a deep breath while I hit "submit," and here's to hoping some of my words might just leap off the screen and wrap you up in a warm hug.

Below is my journal entry and a drafted post from six months ago. And although these words have taken home in my "draft box" for a long while... I felt impressed to share them today. After this past week was National Infertility Awareness week, I'm feeling like they need to be read by someone other than myself.

So, here they are.

_________________

Journal entry from November 2016:

"My heavy eyelids and tired body need more sleep, but my heart yearns to write this morning while I have some peace and quiet. It's 6:00 am. The house is dark, and my soul is craving the written word, in fear I may forget my deepest feelings if I don't write them down. I have something to write about, because I have something to feel about. And for some odd reason, the feeling of my pencil to paper brings some relief, knowing I can finally release and let go.

Bry and I started trying for another baby earlier this fall. We felt it was time again. In October, I missed my period, and was feeling signs of pregnancy: mostly morning nausea, some headaches, sore boobs, and the feeling of a "bloated" tummy. I secretly got excited inside. We didn't have a pregnancy test at home, my periods have sometimes been irregular anyway, and so I thought... I won't check for now. If I miss it again next month, I'll take a pregnancy test then and surprise Bry. 

[Note:  I know it sounds weird, but I'm the kind of person who would be okay with finding out eight weeks down the pregnancy road that I was expecting, rather than earlier. I think because that's what we did with Ellie, and it helped that first trimester pass by a little more quickly. Ignorance is sometimes bliss, right? So I decided to put it off, (at least until I went to the store and remembered to buy a test).]

It happened right before Thanksgiving. I started to bleed. At first, I didn't think much of it. My thoughts were, Hmm, that's strange. Maybe I wasn't pregnant after all. Here comes and goes another period. 

Well, that's what I thought had happened.

Twelve days later; still bleeding. I remember coming home from the gym one day and asking Bry if he'd watch Ellie through his first work meeting because I literally couldn't get myself to stay awake. I fell asleep flat on my face, with all my exercise clothes on and woke up again around 10:30. (Not usual for me.)

Fourteen days, fifteen days pass by and I was still bleeding heavy, starting to pass clots, and having terrible lower back pain. At this point, I knew something was off. Something was wrong. Either I was miscarrying, or something was terribly wrong inside of me. The thought of both made me nervous. It was the week before Thanksgiving, and I dialed the number for my OB/GYN. A nurse answered the phone. After explaining to her my symptoms, she told me I needed to take a pregnancy test. She explained it would still show positive if I were pregnant, and if I was miscarrying. She also told me if the bleeding didn't stop after three weeks, to call back and come into the office to be seen. 

I walked to my bathroom alone. I wanted to be alone, just in case. Bry was busily on the phone for a work meeting, and I unwrapped a test, peeing on the stick and sitting back to watch. One line: blue. The other line... blue. Two blue lines.

The news sunk deep. I was miscarrying.

I was pregnant and now I was miscarrying. I was losing our little angel. The thought pierced my heart. It was strange finding out both things at the same time:  that we were in fact pregnant, but that we were also miscarrying. I walked slowly to the office, showed Bry the pregnancy test and turned around to collapse on our bed. Bry hurried to end his phone call and came in to pick me up. I buried my face in his chest to cry. He rubbed the back of my hair - "I'm so sorry, honey."

We were only around six weeks along at the point, but I didn't expect the emptiness that followed. Or the feelings of sadness. Or the feelings of envy I tried not to allow myself to feel. The next week was a sad week. I kept seeing babies everywhere:  with friends, at the grocery store, new baby announcements being posted... I didn't think I'd feel any sort of jealousy for that type of thing, but unfortunately it came, even when I tried my hardest to push it away.

Besides all the emotion, there was the physical reminder. I was still bleeding. And every time I went to the bathroom, and passed yet another clot, I was reminded once again of our little angel, whoever they would've been. Would they have been a boy or girl? What would they have looked like? Who would they have become? All the doubtful, harsh questions that followed: Why couldn't my body carry this baby? I'm living so healthy, why did this happen? Will I be able to ever get pregnant again? 

It helped to not be far enough along yet to hear the heartbeat. Oh, how my heart wants to reach out to anyone who has heard a heartbeat, and then lost their little angel. It helps to have a loving husband who wraps his arms around me every time the tears come. How my heart aches for anyone who has to go through pain alone. It helps to have our little babe already here, who I cherish and squeeze with all my might. How my heart aches for those who are trying and trying for their first. It's not easy. Any of it.

I feel extremely blessed to have our little Ellie, and I don't want to ever take that for granted. That has helped me immensely, but there's still an empty space in my heart. It's a  hole that nothing can really fill. It's the type of hole that sometimes dwells best in silence. And that's the stupid thing about it really. A miscarriage isn't the type of thing you go around telling people, or wearing on your sleeve. Or is it? Sometimes I don't know how to act or treat this situation. Is it something we should be telling people? I wasn't sure at first. But as I've shared it with the family and close friends... some of that pain has been lifted.

Today we're choosing to move on. Today we're strong. And today we're praying once again for another angel to come soon."

___________________________

It's been a while since all of that happened, but I thought of it all again today. The feelings came back fresh and deep and open. It's the reason I have decided to share here. Not for pity. Not so anyone will feel bad for us. But only to let someone else out there know they're not alone, if this is something they're facing too. I know what it feels like to keep trying and to start my period again and again while the tears fall. I know how it feels to want something so much, yet to pray for patience. I know what it feels like to get your hopes up, only to feel let down once again. And to those who are experiencing a similar struggle, I'm with you. Sometimes the knowledge that we're not alone, is the strength we need to pull us through.

For those of you who have miscarried or who are struggling with infertility:

My heart aches with you. It's okay to hurt about it. It's what makes you human. And my arm is around your shoulder. We are on this raw and delicate motherhood journey together. I pray for you, I pray with you, and yearn for another one someday too.

We can't give up.

For now, I will keep loving my living angels. Keep kissing. Keep snuggling. Keep holding those hands with all the love I can muster. I'm so lucky and grateful to have my Bry and my Ellie. And we're not giving up any time soon.

I know heaven holds our angels safe.

Total Body

You're going to do this workout by adding on in a pyramid form. The pattern goes like this:

1 push-up
1 push-up + 2 burpees
1 push-up + 2 burpees + 3 squat presses
1 push-up + 2 burpees + 3 squat presses + 4 plyo lunges
etc.... Get it?

You'll do this all the way until you get to #10. You'll be out of breath and dripping sweat by the end! Here are the moves

1 push-up, holding at the bottom for 3 seconds before coming back up
2 burpees
3 squat presses with DB
4 plyo lunges
5 froggers
6 tricep dips
7 plank hip dips
8 Russian twists
9 tricep push-ups (I did mine modified with my knees down- do the best you can!)
10 knee to elbow jumps (make these explosive to end this burnout!)

Instant Pot Mesquite Beef Tacos

Mind blown. To all my Instant Pot owners, show this recipe some love. With six ingredients, what's NOT to love? I mean, come on.

Ingredients:

~2 lbs. beef chuck roast

1 tsp. garlic salt

3/4 cup mild salsa

2 tsp. smoked paprika (this stuff gives it the best flavor!)

1 (4-oz.) can diced green chilis

1/4 c. brown sugar

Instructions

1. Sear each side of roast and sprinkle on salt.

2. Add salsa, paprika, green chilis, and brown sugar. Turn Instant Pot to manual and cook on high for 70 minutes. Let it do its thing! Allow Instant Pot to naturally release the steam once the 70 minutes is up. 

The beef should be tender, juicy, and falling apart as you uncover the pot. Serve however you like best! I served this on warm whole wheat tortillas with pepper jack cheese, diced tomatoes, cilantro, and avocado. Yum.

Enjoy!

Treat Meals

I often get this question:

How often do you enjoy a cheat meal? Every day? Once a week?

This is something totally personal to me, and it will also be personal to you… why?? Because you know yourself best. But let me tell you why I don’t believe in “cheat meals.”

I’m all about having variation in my diet, and I love that there’s no “one-diet-fits-all.” For me, indulging in something delicious in moderation (like chocolate) is good for my soul. I swear it is. Chocolate and my happy soul go hand in hand. ;) And I feel like it should have a place in my diet just like spinach, fruit, and green smoothies have.

When I put restrictions on my diet to the point where I’m only allowed to have one “cheat meal” a week, I go berserk and want to eat just about every unhealthy thing in sight. That method does not work for me. For some this method might work, and congrats to you for having that much control. For me, food becomes a negative thing when I put such harsh restrictions on it, and I don’t like the sound of that. So I don't have a specific rule or follow such a strict protocol.

That word “cheat” has a negative connotation, and it feels to me like there’s a second word “guilt” attached right next to it. That’s why I’d prefer to avoid that terminology and instead of "cheat" call it a “treat.” Yes, treat. I like that word better. It denotes food that is special, on occasion, fun, and positive.

There is no “correct” way to handle this whole thing, and it's probably going to look different for you…. But for me, I’ve found that listening to my body and indulging in cravings when the timing is right, is something that comes guilt-free and with a lot of positivity. Indulging in the occasional treat, like a warm brownie and scoop of ice cream after Sunday dinner, is something I look forward to, and LOVE. And if my friends are going out on occasion to get our favorite treat, of course I say YES! That is an appropriate time for me to enjoy a treat.

With that being said... no, I don’t indulge in treats after every meal each day; no, I don’t stock my shelves or freezer with treats; yes, sometimes taking a "sugar-break" can be a really good thing; yes, I try to mostly eat nutrient-rich and energy-filled food... but I allow myself something small and delicious every single day if I’m feeling up to it. And usually it's a couple bites of dark chocolate (my favorite). I’ve learned to eat intuitively by eating when I feel hungry, stopping when I’m full, and enjoying the occasional delicious bite of dessert if I'm having the craving. It’s taken time for me, but with some practice, I believe everyone can achieve this same relationship with their food.

Something like a square of this @jojos chocolate bark gives me just enough sweet to satisfy my craving, and it keeps me in control. I also love the mission and story behind their chocolate, that it contains clean and all-natural ingredients, gluten-free, helps balance blood sugar, is packed with antioxidants, satisfies quickly, and helps me kick my sugar cravings to the curb.

Our bodies aren’t meant to be restricted or punished. We all deserve a healthy and balanced life. We need to trust our bodies, learn to listen to them, and fall in love with the way they carry us every day. We deserve it.

I’d like to hear- How do you like to control your cravings? And what is your most favorite treat?

ARMS

1. Wall push-offs, 8-12 reps (keep your core nice and tight)
2. Full body roll, 5 reps (these should be slow and controlled, using your shoulders.) *To make easier, roll body to ground and then return to upward pike
3. Upside down single arm lifts, 8-12 reps
4. Full body roll, 4 reps (slow and controlled)
5. Pike push-ups
6. Full body roll, 3 reps (slow and controlled)
Repeat 2-4x through for a good burn!

Balancing That Nurse Life

As a pediatric nurse, I know how it is to be on your feet for 12+ hours each shift, and not even get to sit for a half hour lunch. I've been there. To all my nurses out there, I feel you…. Doing the hard jobs, seeing the most heartbreaking circumstances, and sometimes leaving exhausted without ever hearing a simple “thank you” all day. It’s the hardest and most selfless job I’ve ever had, but one I wouldn’t trade. I am so proud to be a nurse.

I have a lot more to say about this (and a longer post I'm releasing soon), but for now, here are my top tips for staying healthy and balanced as a nurse:  my tips for night-shift nurses, my tips for day-shift nurses… It's all here.

Who are my nurses out there!? 

NIGHT-SHIFT NURSES

Night shift was sooo hard for me because I am not a night owl in the least bit. In bed by 10:00, up at 5:30. That’s my routine, and I like sticking to it. So when my entire schedule was flip-flopped around and I was trying to stuff myself with food at 1 or 2 am, it was extremely difficult. I didn’t feel like myself, I lost my appetite or I’d overeat and snack all night long, I got nauseous most nights… the balance was hard. The more shifts I worked, however, the more I found little tips that helped me through it.

1.       Treat your night-shift eating routine, just as you would a normal day, but start with dinner and end with breakfast.

I’d usually have dinner either before I left for work, or around 9:00 pm after I got my patients settled… nothing greasy or deep-fried, but something that would keep my belly full and give me energy. I’d continue with a small snack around 11 pm, and lunch between 1-3 am. Again, I’d pack my own stuff. I’d have another small snack around 4-5 am before leaving. Then I’d either eat a quick breakfast right before I left, or I’d eat it when I got home… something small like a yogurt parfait, hard-boiled egg on toast, etc… again, nothing greasy or deep-fried. I’d then go to sleep, and when I woke up, I’d start that same thing over. That way, when I had a day off, I was still right on track with my eating and nothing big had changed. The more you can get into a routine at work, the better your body will adapt.

2.       Avoid the cafeteria or look for healthier options!

There’s nothing good in there past midnight… let’s be honest. Waffles, deep-fried corndogs, and leftover soggy salads are something I learned quickly to avoid. Pack your own stuff. Meal prep as a nurse is key! If you don’t come prepared, you are forced to buy something in the cafeteria, and it’s harder to find good options. If you do need a salad, go buy it toward the beginning of your shift while food is more fresh, and stick it right in the fridge to keep cold. Or don't be afraid to ask the chef or server for their healthier options. They'll be glad to show you!

3.       Set a timer on your phone during the slow hours, to remind you to move.

2-4 am was usually slower on my unit, and I’d always leave to go run the halls/stairs, do a hallway of lunges, or get up to walk. This little reminder to move will give you a quick energy boost to push you through those final, long hours.

4.       Water, water, water!

I know, I know… it’s hard. And I know it’s probably readily available for you on your unit. At 4 am, that Dr. Pepper might be calling your name. But choose to resist! It may be challenging in the beginning, but your body is going to feel better and better as it transitions to water ONLY throughout the night. You don’t need those extra calories containing no nutritional value. Instead, reach for your water and don't be afraid to make your water interesting! Infuse it with fresh fruit or spices for added flavor. Aim for 100 oz. per shift. Snag my favorite water bottle here.

5.       Pack healthy snacks.

I can’t tell you how much this has changed the way I feel at work. Not only will healthy, small snacks keep your glucose steady throughout the day, but you’ll be able to avoid falling into the “I’m starving, exhausted, and will eat anything in sight” mode. Some of my favorite snacks to bring to work are veggies + hummus, bananas + peanut butter, fruit leathers, a handful of raw almonds, and fresh fruit + yogurt.

6.       Get as much sleep after a shift as possible.

If you don’t already have blackout curtains, you can make them for cheap, or hang a blanket over your window… something to get your bedroom dark. Sleep when you get home, and sleep as long as you can. The bad eating habits usually happen more when you’re tired. So fuel up on that rest, and start your night shift with added energy. I know many of you have kids, and that can be tricky... but if you don't have children or roommates to keep you up, SLEEP! I had no problem sleeping until 4-5 pm, and it served me well.

DAY-SHIFT NURSES

1.       Get in your steps.

If your unit is anything like mine, you’ll get your 10,000 steps in just fine. With that being said, not every nursing job involves a lot of walking. If not, set a timer on your phone to go off every hour, and go for a little walk. Do push-ups at your desk, a minute of jumping jacks… just find time to move. You’ll find that the time between those breaks will become more productive as well. If you have a way to track your steps... on your watch, with an app on your phone, go for the 10,000.

2.       Nurses at a desk- look for other options!

If you have a desk job, bring a physio ball to sit on rather than a chair. Involve your core and be aware of your posture and how you’re sitting. If they have an option for a standing desk, take it! Look for more ways to take a break from your chair.

3.       Pack your own meals/snacks.

Same as mentioned above. This is the only way to go! Avoid that cafeteria as much as possible, or look at the menu before you go to see what healthier options they may have.

4.       HIIT workouts on days you work!

On days where you’re too tired to exercise after your shift (which is probably most work days if they're anything like mine), just fit in a quick 15 minute HIIT workout. (I provide SO many options/videos through my Instagram feed.) These quick workouts will help to keep up your metabolism and fat burn. They'll keep you in shape when you don't have an hour to get to the gym or an exercise class.

5.       Get your sleep.

(Same as above.) Sleep is the best supplement. If you work at 7 am, try to be in bed by 10:00 so you can get 7+ hours of sleep before your shift.

6.       Meal prep accordingly.

When I sit down to meal prep at the beginning of each week, I always look at my schedule first. What do I have throughout the week? What days do I work? That way, I can plan easier meals for my working days, and be sure to have enough food to take with me.

I hope some of those tips are helpful for you. 

To all my nurses out there, I want to thank you for all you do. You give your best every day, so your patients can be their best, and that’s pretty dang awesome. You should be proud of what you do and how hard it was to get where you are. You’re smart, you’re capable, and you are the heart of the hospital, clinic, community, senior center… wherever you work. I send you my love!

And just in case you're wondering, this is how I reallllly feel about my crazy shifts (picture below) ;)

Bowtie Salad

This pasta is so fancy, it wears bowties. It's the perfect dish to transition into this warmer weather. Give it a whirl!

Ingredients:

1/2 lb. farfalle wheat pasta

1/2 c. parsley, chopped

1 (3.8-oz) can sliced olives, drained

3 oz. feta cheese, crumbled

1/4 c. pinenuts, lightly toasted

2-3 ripe tomatoes, chopped

1 small bunch of asparagus, roasted and diced

For dressing:

1/2 c. extra virgin olive oil

juice from 1/2 of a lemon

1-2 garlic cloves, minced

salt and pepper to taste

Instructions:

1. Turn oven to 425 degrees. Line baking sheet with tin foil and spread the asparagus out on the pan. Lightly drizzle olive oil, salt, and pepper over top. Bake for 10 minutes, and then flip and back for another 3-5 minutes. Once asparagus is lightly browned, chop and set aside.

2. Combine all ingredients for salad (with the chopped asparagus) in medium-sized bowl.

3. Mix together dressing ingredients and pour over top until pasta is coated (you will probably have some dressing left over). Serve warm or cold. Refrigerates well. 

Enjoy!

TOTAL BODY TABATA

Guess what!? Total body, means TABATA time! Remember, with this you are working for 20 seconds, with 10 seconds rest in between moves. With eight moves, you are looking at a total of FOUR MINUTES. Make those minutes count!

1. Squat jacks

2. High knees

3. Wide seal claps (good name, right!? haha)

4. Reverse lunge kicks, (2 per side before you switch legs)

5. X-jumps

6. Sprint in place

7. Ski jumps

8. Football run burpees

20 seconds on, 10 seconds off until you reach that four minute mark. Good luck!