He made me an IBD mom four years ago…here’s what I’ve learned

Four years ago, today, I became a mom. Our son Reid Robert was born and placed into my arms for the very first time. Like any parent, especially one with a chronic illness, those initial moments were emotional and overwhelming in the best way. A wave of relief rushed over me as I lied on the table after my scheduled c-section, grateful my body that had fought Crohn’s disease since 2005, had brought a perfectly healthy baby boy into this world. But I was also nervous about my abilities as an IBD mom and what the journey of parenthood would look like as I juggled taking care of myself and this tiny little human. How would my life with a chronic illness and as a mom play out?

Fast forward four years. I am now a mom of two, with a baby boy on the way (24 weeks tomorrow)! Over these last 1,460 days, I’ve learned and grown a great deal both personally and as an IBD patient. Today—I share that perspective and knowledge with you. Perspective and knowledge, I wish I had when I first became a mom and what I’m continuing to learn along the way.

  1. Fed is best. There is so much pressure on how women choose to feed their babies. It’s ridiculous. I breastfed Reid the first three days and he had formula from that point forward because I was nervous about my biologic. The second time around, I did more research, and chose to breastfeed my daughter. Our journey lasted for six months (my milk supply ran out once I got my period). I supplemented with formula. I’m hoping to nurse our final baby when he’s born in July. That being said—no matter what you choose, it’s your choice. Your baby will thrive. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Drown out the judgement and speak up if someone questions your decision for you and your baby. For me, breastfeeding is a labor of love. I’m not going to act like I enjoy it, because it was hard for me. It’s not something that comes natural for all, and that’s ok. No one is going to ask my kids when they are in elementary school or high school how they were fed or know the difference.
  2. What they see, doesn’t always hurt them. When you’re cowering on the toilet in pain and they’re watching with eyes that speak of concern. When you’re sitting on your couch about to do your injection. When you’re struggling to stand up straight because your abdominal pain is too much. Don’t shield them from your pain. That pain is part of your family story and it’s important you are honest and upfront. It’s those moments that shape their little hearts and their everchanging minds.
  3. Kids roll with the punches. Have to cancel plans or have a low-key day inside watching a movie instead of going for a walk or to the park? —that’s ok. Your children will feel loved and taken care of just the same. Kids are flexible. They don’t need to stick to a rigid schedule to be happy and fulfilled. At the end of the day, it’s your love and support that matters most.
  4. Innate empathy from a young age. With my oldest being four, I can’t tell you enough how many times I’ve been blown away by his empathetic heart. Before he was even two years old, he would kiss my thigh after my injection and walk up to me in the bathroom, give me a hug, and pat my arm or stomach to comfort me. Now, he asks me if I’m hurting or in pain. He knows mommy isn’t always healthy, but that she’s always strong and gets through it. That empathy goes far beyond me—I see it in the way he is with others and it makes my heart feel like it’s going to burst with pride. I credit that aspect of his personality to what he’s witnessed these first few years of life, and for that I’m grateful. I can guarantee you’ll see the same with your children.
  5. Greatest source of motivation. Even though I’ve been in remission since August 2015, my kids still serve as my greatest motivation on the difficult days with the disease. Whether it’s pain, prepping for a scope, or going through a procedure, I keep my eyes on the prize—them. Just thinking of them gets me through everything. They give me so much to fight for, day in and day out. It’s not just about me—it’s about all of us.
  6. The importance of communication. When you become a parent, communication becomes even more paramount in your relationship. If you don’t share when you’re struggling or symptomatic, your partner can’t offer the support you need. Even if you’re not in a full-blown flare, it’s beneficial for everyone involved (you, your partner, and your kid(s)) that you share when your IBD is causing you issues. I always text my husband when he’s at work or simply say, “I’m having a bad Crohn’s day” or if I’m in the bathroom for a long time after dinner while he’s trying to get the kids to bed …and that’s all it takes to get the message across.
  7. Asking for help doesn’t make you weak. You’ve probably heard the saying “it takes a village to raise a child” …and it really does. You are not failing or less than because you ask or help, need a break, or time for yourself. You will be a better mom if you take time for you. You’ll be better able to keep your disease in check if you have time to relax and de-stress. I’m not always the best when it comes to accepting or asking for help, but as I gear up for three babies four and under, I know I’m not going to be able to do it all on my own and that I’m going to need more out of my village.
  8. Your health can’t go on the backburner. When you’re a mom, your needs often go to the bottom of the totem pole. When you are an IBD mom, they can’t. While I used to try and “brave out” my symptoms until the last possible moment, as a mom, I’ve completely changed. After nearly 16 years living with Crohn’s, I know when my body is speaking to me and now, I listen and address what’s going on immediately. I credit being proactive and sharing with my GI when it feels like my remission may be in question for the reason why I’ve been able to stay in remission all this time. I’ve gone on bursts of steroids, had my trough levels checked for my biologic, and done fecal calprotectin tests through the years when needed. The last thing you want as a parent is to be hospitalized because of your IBD. To me—it’s inevitable. It’s not a matter of if it will happen, but when. But I do everything in my power to keep myself home and out of the hospital and will continue to do so until that’s no longer possible.
  9. Every “tummy ache” and loose stool from your child is not IBD. When my kids say they have a tummy ache or I seem to think they’re going to the bathroom more often one day than not, I’m immediately worried and concerned. Could it be IBD? Why are they feeling this way? Is it my fault? What do I need to watch out for? All the questions flood my mind and sometimes my emotions get the best of me. Then, my husband normally talks me down and says it’s probably nothing and I need to stop jumping to conclusions. He’s right. Chances are potty training could be causing tummy aches. Or maybe like the rest of the population, they are going more because of something they ate. The chance of passing along IBD to your child (when one parent has it) is only 2-9% (according to the Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation). Remember that.
  10. You are their hero. Of course, there are times I wish I wasn’t an IBD mom…and “just” a mom. At the same time, I credit my disease for much of my outlook on life and how it helps me cope with setbacks, but also celebrate what to many others may be the mundane. My kids don’t see me than less than. When they sit through doctor appointments in the stroller and blood draws, or watch me make faces drinking colonoscopy prep, or count to 10 while doing my shot before they go to bed, they simply see their mama. This is their normal—they don’t know anything different. When I talk to teenagers or young adults who grew up with a parent who has IBD, I always hear the same thing— ‘they are my hero’.

Along with being a hero to your little one(s)…you are also…

Someone who takes unpleasant moments in stride.

Someone who wears the title of “mama” with great pride.

Someone who will never stop fighting for the feel-good days.

Someone who doesn’t allow your illness to rob you or your child of joy.

Someone who goes after their dreams—like that of being a mom—even though your back story may be a bit more complicated.

Someone who is just as worthy as anyone to be a parent.

We’re four years in, Reid. Like everything in life, each moment—beautiful and challenging—is fleeting. Thank you for being patient with me, for understanding me, and for being a daily reminder that I’m so much more than my Crohn’s disease. Being your mom is my greatest title and has been the best chapter of my life story and patient journey thus far.

Putting the debate to rest: IBD fatigue isn’t your “normal” type of tired

I was putting away the dishes after dinner when I paused, exhaled, and said to my husband, “Whew. I just got a major wave of fatigue.” He said, “Yeah, I feel tired right now, too.” This isn’t the first time a healthy, able-bodied person has responded this way—and I know everyone with a chronic illness can relate. I kind of laughed and tried to explain why chronic illness fatigue wasn’t the same as feeling tired, but I was coming up short for words and having difficulty explaining the difference. My husband, Bobby, genuinely wanted to know why I thought my fatigue was different than his and how I knew it was. I said I used to be healthy. I used to not have a chronic illness. I know what tired felt like then and what fatigue feels like now.

Articulating pain with IBD and fatigue can be so challenging—even though it’s something that is so much a part of our day-to-day experience. Unless you live it and it’s your reality, it’s difficult to put the experience into words.

I called upon the IBD family on Twitter and Instagram to see how they describe their own personal fatigue. Here are some of the responses:

“Imagine your car being on empty and you put $5 worth of gas in the tank until you’re running on fumes. Then you put $5 worth of gas again, and you continue this process for months at a time…while sometimes running out of gas completely multiple times along the way.”

“Having to run a consistent marathon without stopping while carrying a toddler in the front and a backpack with a week’s worth of supplies on your back…in flats.”

“Mentally feeling like you have the energy to do simple tasks, but your body physically won’t let you. Knowing I need to walk 100 feet to get in my work building and having to give myself a pep talk to do it because I’m not sure I’ll make it without having to sit down.”

“You’re tired from being tired. You are just over everything and the day drags on and on. A nap doesn’t help because you “waste” your day, but the truth is you can’t even take a shower because the thought is way too much energy.”

“Like you’re walking with ankle and wrist weights on 24/7. There are days I feel like I’m walking through a fog so dense in my head I can touch it.”

“When I think of chronic fatigue for me it means faking being well. When getting out of bed or getting a shower is an accomplishment or needing to rest after taking a shower. No matter how much sleep you get you still wake up tired. Chronic illness fatigue is physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion.”

“Trying to motivate yourself when you’re fatigued and having brain fog is how I imagine swimming in syrup or molasses would be.”

“It’s the feeling of exhaustion, hopelessness, and loss. You’re beaten down from managing your condition and the various negative side effects that come with it on top of trying to function in whatever role you’re trying to play on a daily basis (for me: wife, mother, employee, and friend). It’s trying to make the most out of life but knowing you’re limited. It’s mourning the person you once were and want to be at that time. It’s physically, mentally, and emotionally draining.”

“I explained the fatigue to my students that just thinking about lifting my legs to walk or the mechanics of moving my limbs is exhausting…let alone the act of doing it. Everything feels heavy.”

 “Down to the bone, exhaustion in my core, something that is impossible to push through.”

“I like it’s like first trimester fatigue! But, with no end in sight and nothing hopeful to show for the symptoms like a baby!”

“Like your body is made of bricks. Your mind knows you need to get up and do something—change over the laundry, send an email, but your mind cannot make your body move.”

“Living in a constant state of exhaustion. No amount of sleep or rest seems to shake it.”

“For me…I would describe chronic illness fatigue as KNOWING your car has no more fuel and having to get out and push it home yourself.”

“Heaviness in my body. Just surviving, not thriving. Frustrating because I want to do more things but can’t always.”

“Being tired as soon as you wake up, until you go to bed. Never fully feeling rested. Planning naps throughout a day. Heavy eyes. Mood swing when beyond exhausted.”

“Like constantly living under 10x gravity.”

“Like someone pulled the plug out.”

“Like moving through the mud. It can also creep up on you when you least expect it, sort of like this year’s global pandemic—all encompassing and has no sympathy.”

“Like I’m wearing 100 pounds worth of sandbags that don’t go away even when I get lots of sleep.”

“Waking up and still being tired. No amount of coffee can fix this tired.”

Stop the comparison game

After reading these descriptions, my hope is that the next time you try and compare your fatigue or tiredness to someone with a chronic illness you pause and be selective of your words. Of course, everyone is entitled to be and feel tired, but it’s not an even playing field energy-wise when you’re a healthy, able-bodied person. Coffee, naps, and sleeping in help most of the population feel energized and re-charged, but fatigue with chronic illness is often untouchable. A full night’s rest can still leave you feeling exhausted. A coffee may have no impact. A nap may cause the fatigue to be even more pronounced. As an IBD mom, it can be frustrating to hear someone without a chronic illness try and diminish my personal struggles by equating them to theirs when there is truly no comparison.

Why IBD Forces You to Take Off the Rose-Colored Glasses and See Clearly

I remember the first time I put glasses on in fourth grade and no longer saw the world unclearly. I can still recall the first time I wore contacts sophomore year of high school and experienced how crisp life is supposed to look. Prior to glasses and corrective lenses, I thought my vision was how everyone else saw. I recently came across a discussion on Twitter by Jessica Caron (ChronicallyJess) about how you would describe your IBD journey at the beginning—in one word. One woman, Emily Morgan (@EmMorgan27) replied with the word blurry.

That response got me thinking. It’s spot on for so many reasons. Take yourself back in time to the first week you were diagnosed with Crohn’s or ulcerative colitis and the clarity you’ve gained and continue to gain with each year that passes.

When I was diagnosed with Crohn’s in July 2005 at age 21, I remember sitting almost stoically in my hospital bed because I was so overwhelmed by not only what the next day or week would bring, but the next hour. All my plans, all my goals, all my dreams that were once crystal clear became incredibly hazy. The thought of thinking beyond that moment almost made me feel dizzy with dread.

What does this new world of chronic illness look like?

What would be possible with IBD? Who am I now? How has my identity shifted? Where do I go from here? What will my friends think? What will future employers think? What’s it like to be on medication for the rest of my life? Will anyone ever love me? The list goes on. The vision that I had the first 21 years of my life was forever tainted.

But as the years rolled by, I came to realize the rose-colored glasses I wore prior to diagnosis didn’t give me that clear of a reality about not only my own life, but those around me. Prior to Crohn’s I just expected everything to go my way. Prior to Crohn’s I felt invincible. Prior to Crohn’s I didn’t think twice about my health and what a gift it was.

Now life is anything but blurry

Looking back over the past 15 years, my vision of life with Crohn’s is anything but blurry. As I grew older and more mature, this disease of mine made me see the world clearer than I had ever before. The darkest days have led me to the brightest, shining moments. Nothing is taken for granted. Nothing is expected, but rather overly appreciated. This disease forced me to see the strength inside myself and the resilience that I never knew existed. This disease has demanded a lot out of me and still does, but it’s enabled me to discover a newfound gratitude for life’s simplicities and provided me with superhero strength vision of who is genuinely in my life, and who is not.

It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even know if I would have been the same adult if I never got Crohn’s. My IBD is not my identity, it’s only a part of who I am. Now I credit not only my contacts, but my Crohn’s, for improving my vision.

Digging in the Archives: Emails I wrote following my Crohn’s diagnosis in 2005

When I started my blog, Lights, Camera, Crohn’s, four years ago, my main mission was to be the voice I desperately needed to hear upon diagnosis. As I reflect on my 15 year diagnosis anniversary, I thought it may be helpful to give you a behind the scenes look at some of my email archives from 2005…days after finding out I had Crohn’s disease. I’ve never shown these to anyone (other than the recipients, of course!)…but my hope is that in sharing private feelings, you’ll be able to see how my perspective about life with IBD has shifted and evolved since I was a 21-year-old girl feeling up against the wall with nowhere to turn.

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Photos taken in May 2005 (prior to diagnosis) and September 2005 (while on 60 mg of prednisone).

This article is dedicated to the newly diagnosed. We’ve all been in your shoes. What you’re thinking. What you’re feeling. What you’re struggling with. We get it. It’s not fair to compare where you are in coping to someone like me who has been dealing with Crohn’s for 15 years and been in remission for nearly five.

Here are snippets from my emails to friends. Reading the pain in my words and re-living this difficult time can be a trigger, but reflecting and seeing how far I’ve come is also incredibly empowering.

“I’m having a really hard time with this, harder than I ever could have imagined or dreamed…and I’m having a hard time trying to act like everything is great on the exterior. I feel like I’m on the brink of a breakdown…the drugs are getting to me so much. I woke up with visible shakes this morning and have been shaking all day. My moods aren’t me. I feel like I am a different person and that as much as I want to be the old Natalie, it’s just so hard to wake up smiling and happy. I’m getting tired of my family constantly asking me if I’m doing ok and feeling ok and everyone staring at me while I eat…I just feel like a pity case to so many people. I feel so alone in all this. I’m trying to be upbeat…and I know that it is going to take time to get acclimated to the lifestyle changes and everything, but right now I’m just having a difficult time figuring out who I am and where I’m supposed to be in life. The insomnia has left me up every night just thinking and wondering what the future holds and if I am ever going to feel normal again.”

“I try so hard to be strong and tough about this and it just all stays bottled up and I just started crying and am having a hard time stopping. It’s just so hard. I look at pictures and think back to even graduation time and it just freaks me out that I went from living a carefree, healthy life…to this. I know it is something that I will always have and that I have to get used to it…but it’s hard for me to handle at times. I don’t mean to complain or worry you or anything, I just feel as though I need to get out some of this frustration before I go to bed. I’m scared of getting sick again and having to go in the hospital sometime again…and I just feel like I can’t go a day without a thinking about all the what ifs. You know I analyze so much…haha…it’s like a living nightmare!”

“I’m sorry if I talk about this too much. I’m sure it isn’t the most appealing or attractive thing to have to hear from your gf…but sometimes it becomes a little overbearing on me…and I can’t hide my fears when it does. I mean I refuse to let this change who I am and the life I will lead, it’s just at times it seems so much bigger than me, and so much larger than life. I know I have been complaining a lot about my puffy cheeks and stuff…and I know that prob gets old…I just get so self-conscious about it…and it just sucks that I have exactly 2 more months left on the steroid. As my dosage gets lower and lower the side effects should stop and start to go away…I’ll believe it when I see it!  I guess it’s just scary to me to see the effects of a drug that are helping me on the inside and hurting me on the outside. I just want to look the same to you as I did the last time you saw me.”

“What I won’t ever apologize for is this summer, because I was going through a living hell, and I saw which friends were there for me and which weren’t. I was ridiculously ill from June 5th-my bday (August 24) and you were angry with me for not keeping in touch. I couldn’t even stand to get myself a glass of water for weeks and was hospitalized for days. I never heard anything from you. I know that people handle those types of situations differently… but that was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through in my life, and I really needed a strong support system. Battling with a disease and feeling like I completely lost myself has made me have to be a little selfish these past few months. I’m just coming to grips with it all now and thank God I’m feeling well…but it is still an adjustment and has given me a complete different perspective on life.”

You guys. I’m sitting here crying. I’m that girl. I wrote those words. That was 15 years ago and thinking about that time still feels like a knife in my chest. Even though this disease has enabled me to gain so much gratitude and perspective, it still robbed me of a lot. It still hurts…sometimes more emotionally than physically these days since I’m in remission. These diagnosis anniversaries stir up a lot of memories. While I choose to think of it as a time to celebrate another year of taking this disease on with all the strength I can muster, it’s also a time that takes me back to some of the most challenging and difficult moments in my life.

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I colored this in my hospital bed after being diagnosed with Crohn’s.

I wish I could hug that girl and tell her it was going to be alright. The career, the love, the family…it would all happen. If you’re in that difficult space right now coming to terms with your newfound identity following diagnosis or getting over a flare up, please know this disease ebbs and flows. It’s not a constant. The good and the bad moments are fleeting, but your resilience and your confidence in coping becomes so much a part of who you are, it’s hard to recognize who you were before.

The Chronically Honest: The Inspiration Behind the Illustrations

She’s the person behind the artwork that has helped connect thousands of chronic illness patients on Instagram. I’m talking about a 20-year-old woman named Julia who created “The Chronically Honest” in hopes of making others feel less alone. Diagnosed in November 2019 after struggling with symptoms for three years, Julia is coming to grips with her battle against IBD in the middle of a global pandemic.

The first in her family to take this disease on, her experiences thus far have felt a bit isolating. As a college student, she often feels out of place amongst her peers.

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“When I was first diagnosed I really searched for something, whether it be art, or blogs that portrayed all the feelings I was experiencing and let me know that it was okay to feel them,” says Julia. “I was met with countless stories of positivity and turning a bad situation into a good new perspective on life. While I definitely appreciate that and know positivity is vital when dealing with IBD I was searching for something that showed struggle and depicted the crappy side of living with this disease (pun intended)!”

Striving to dig beneath the surface

With The Chronically Honest, Julia strives to show both the ups and the down of living with IBD. She hopes that by showing the struggles, she can make fellow patients feel better understood. Image

“My inspiration to create my illustrations often comes from struggles or triumphs I’m experiencing in the moment. If I am not doing well and have had a bad day, I will create an illustration that reflects that, and vice versa. However, I also get inspiration from others. If I am scrolling through my Instagram feed and see a quote that really resonates with me and my experience and I think it could help others, I will make an illustration based off that.”

Creating art to cope

“My art honestly helps me cope with my IBD more than I could ever imagine. It’s the best distraction and it’s a wonderful outlet for exploring and sharing my feelings. Often when I’m super sick or have to stay home because I’m symptomatic, I will channel my frustration and sadness into making art.”

Julia’s artwork can take her anywhere from five minutes to multiple hours. Some of her biggest fears lie in finding love, becoming a mom one day, and ultimately needing surgery. All aspects of living with IBD that many of us can relate to. Image (1)

The Chronically Honest is as beneficial to Julia as it is the rest of us. Her artwork exemplifies what so many of us feel throughout the rollercoaster ride that is life with IBD. As a 36-year-old, who has lived with Crohn’s for 15 years, I’m constantly amazed and inspired by the work Julia is doing to not only help herself, but others. Her art is raw and genuine—it will speak to you. You will feel seen. You will feel heard. If you don’t already, be sure to give The Chronically Honest a “follow” on Instagram.  She says if you want a custom illustration, you can send her a direct message!

 

Seeing the beauty through the struggle: IBD mom welcomes third child amidst COVID-19 pandemic

Welcoming a baby into the world brings so many emotions to the surface. For IBD mom, Suzy Burnett, of Madison, Wisconsin, it’s been a rollercoaster. She had her third baby, Guy Richard, February 29th. IMG_0146Right before COVID-19 started wreaking havoc in the States. Before Guy was born, Suzy’s biggest fear was a postpartum flare. After the birth of her second oldest daughter, Alice, she had the worst Crohn’s flare of her life and was hospitalized.

Now, as her and her family face the COVID-19 pandemic, she has a new set of concerns. Will Guy be able to stay healthy until his immune system matures a bit? How will her daughters adjust to the new addition? Will she be able to stay well despite being immunocompromised? COVID-19 added a whole new slew of uphill battles that she or anyone else for that matter hasn’t been prepared to deal with. This week Suzy shares her perspective as an IBD mom, doing all she can to protect herself and her family in the face of this viral war.

As anyone who has ever had a baby, you know those first two weeks, involve several doctor appointments. Guy still had high bilirubin levels when we brought him home, so this meant we needed to make extra trips to his pediatrician. Sounds easy, right? There was so much involved this time around. Babies don’t have that immunity built up yet, so we had to use a special entrance, and go straight to our room to avoid any contact with the public. I couldn’t help but glance at the waiting room and see all the long faces adorned with facial masks. It was swimming with sick kiddos. I felt incredibly lucky at that moment as we escaped the chesty coughs, and furniture that had been saturated in illness.IMG_0147

One week went by, and things quickly changed to Zoom and FaceTime appointments. Not only did the baby’s appointments change…but mine did as well. Those of us with Crohn’s disease can’t always get by with a virtual chat about our symptoms. But here we are.

Navigating health issues brought on by my IBD

Many people with IBD develop extra-intestinal manifestations. IMG_0144Unfortunately, when I was put on prednisone last summer, I developed extremely high eye pressures. I was diagnosed as “Glaucoma suspect” at 40 years old, meaning I have some risk of the disease, but no proven damage (yet), so my eyes are monitored often.

I’m also dealing with an external hemorrhoid, thanks to excessive diarrhea, along with an anal fissure, all while caring for three children—one being a newborn.

For those of you who don’t know, an anal fissure is a small tear in the thin, moist tissue (mucosa) that lines the anus. I’m treating the fissure with topical lidocaine and a suppository three times per day. I’ve had my fair share of pain, but this ranks right up there with my non-sedated sigmoidoscopy and childbirth. It feels like broken glass, or razor blades back there. There’s a chance this has progressed to a fistula, and I may require surgery in the weeks to come.

Normally, I would be seen right away, but due to the current COVID-19 crisis, it’s been several phone calls back and forth with the nurses triaging my symptoms. I’m confident the hemorrhoid will go away, but if the fissure doesn’t, I might be facing surgery, and right now a trip to the hospital could be life threatening.

Seeing the beauty through the struggle

Amidst this horrific event that is crippling our world, there is an unexpected beauty that has surfaced. Our wonderful party of five has become closer than close. Yes, there are times when we all go a bit loony, but we’re embracing this time together. My kids are my world, my everything. I need to be the best version of myself, and a huge part of that now and forever is not letting my IBD win. Even when my disease has a strong hold on me, I never let my kids see the struggle.

If you’re reading this and you’re unsure about whether you’ll be able to handle your IBD and motherhood, I’m here to tell you it’s possible. IMG_0148As a woman and a mom of three who has battled Crohn’s since 2008, I believe if it’s your dream to have children, or a family, you should most definitely pursue that. Consult with your GI and OB doctors prior to getting pregnant, and make sure you’re in remission. Pregnancy can be challenging, but if you’re also flaring, it’s that much harder.

As we all experience the change in our day-to-day lives during the COVID-19 pandemic, whether you have IBD or not, there has been a return to simplicity. A back to basics mentality that is exponentially refreshing. Take a walk outside and breathe in and out. Right now, we’re forced to take our time, dig deep, and focus on our inner beings. Much like the experience of dealing with the diagnosis of IBD, it’s a time to peel back those layers and re-discover YOU.

Follow Suzy’s journey by checking out her blog: Crohnie Mommy 

 

 

From remission to flaring in one week: What 2015 taught me about life with Crohn’s

I woke up from my colonoscopy five years ago and was told “You’re in remission”. Tears of happiness streamed down my cheeks. I was in disbelief. Was I dreaming?! It took a decade for me to hear those words, and one week to be robbed of the title.

One week later, I was hospitalized with a small bowel obstruction. The first of three that would happen that next year. So many of us in the chronic illness and IBD community specifically, are constantly chasing after “remission”. But what does remission really mean?

Remission is different for every person, much like IBD manifests differently in everybody. When I heard the word remission five years ago, it felt magical and exciting.

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Celebratory post-colonoscopy cheesecake after finding out I was in remission Feb. 2015.

Hell, my mom and boyfriend (now husband) and I went out and celebrated with a big meal at The Cheesecake Factory. When I flared days later, I started feeling skeptical of the term and came to realize how fleeting and elusive remission can be. I laid in the hospital bed, devastated and dumbfounded by what had just transpired.

It took three bowel obstruction and 18 inches of my small intestine to ultimately be removed in August 2015, for me to reach surgical remission. While surgery is not a cure, my bowel resection provided me with a new beginning. As I approach my five year “remission” anniversary this August,

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Hospitalized a week later with a bowel obstruction.

I remain on edge. I’ve been blessed to be on cruise control with my illness these past few years. My GI has me well-managed on my biologic and vitamins, I know how to read my body when it speaks to me through symptoms, and when I suspect something is going awry, my care team and I nip the disease activity in the bud.

To me, remission is waking up each morning with the expectation that I’m going to feel well and be able to take on the day as planned. Remission is having more ‘feel good’ days than painful ones. Remission is being confident to attend social outings, travel, and do all the things I set my heart out to do, without feeling suffocated by the fear of the ‘what ifs” of a flare. Remission is being able to focus on the part of me that is so much more than my disease. remission blog

Remission tends to the be the “goal” when it comes to IBD, but it’s not always feasible. It’s easy to see posts on social media and feel like you’re failing because your body is failing you, repeatedly. It took me a decade of living with Crohn’s and surgery to be in remission.

While I’m a compliant patient, I don’t take much credit for my remission. I know how at the drop of a hat I could be rushing to the ER, unable to breathe from my abdominal pain. I remember all the flares that blindsided me and I know my body can decide to flip the switch at any given moment. I feel lucky most the time—while my Crohn’s could be worse, it could be better, too. Remission doesn’t mean that symptoms are non-existent, moreso that the majority of the time I feel well with some not so great days sprinkled in the mix. While in this state of remission, I remind myself not to take this time for granted, not to become complacent, and to stay vigilant on managing my symptoms and overall well-being.

Rather than focusing on the big “R” word that’s loaded beyond belief and placing so much emphasis on it, let’s focus on feeling the best we can each day, communicating openly with our physicians, friends, and family, and taking this uphill battle one step and one day at a time.

“My mom has Crohn’s and I do, too”: Why Sam doesn’t allow IBD to take over her life

Motherhood provides perspective. Motherhood shapes us in a way we didn’t know possible. When you’re a mom with IBD, your past and current struggles make you look onward to the future in a different way. Meet Sam Zachrich. _ADP6012She’s a 30-year-old mom and wife from Utah, who works full-time outside the home. She’s battled Crohn’s disease since December 2011.  

Even though she was officially diagnosed a week before her wedding (imagine that!), Crohn’s is something that was a part of her life long before that. Her mom, also has the disease. This week–Sam shares her experience taking on motherhood and marriage, while juggling everything that comes along with a life of chronic illness.

Like someone with a bad knee before a rainstorm. I knew I was not feeling well and the results of my colonoscopy would reflect that. More medication and more doctors is all I heard from my GI. My husband Nate will tell you a different story. He is always my biggest supporter and remembers way more than I do after waking up from a scope. He heard “Sam things look better… your colon is healing… but there are some issues.” All I heard was “issues”. As a Crohnie, it’s easy to focus on the negative of our disease. It’s easy to forget to celebrate how far we’ve come and the milestones we’ve accomplished throughout our journey.

Growing up with a parent who has IBD

I knew my mom had Crohn’s from an early age, but I didn’t fully understand how much pain and hardship it caused her, until I was in college. I had a wonderful childhood, filled with amazing memories. I don’t remember my mom being sick very often. There were hospital visits here and there, I just always had faith that she would get better.

48397243_10213280363469781_8737081387036704768_oMy mom did an amazing job making sure our lives did not revolve around her disease. She did her best to stay healthy and support us. I want my daughter to have the same experience as I had growing up. I don’t want her to ever feel the burden of my disease. I want her to know that no matter how difficult life gets, there is always hope. My mom is the one person I can call who fully understands my struggles. To have another family member that has and is dealing with the same chronic health issues is a huge support. I am very grateful for her.

A mother’s love

My mom was with me for every scope and doctors appointment leading up to my diagnosis of Crohn’s. She was a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear because she completely understood. Feeling guilty is not something we do easily in our family. We try to stay the course and figure out next steps. I think to some degree she had guilt, but she wanted me to stay strong and knew I would be alright. She has always told me to focus on what I can change in the moment.

To this day, she reminds me: Crohn’s will always be apart of your life, it’s what you do with it that matters. 405889_2533476622399_548286302_n

I try not to focus on passing this disease to a third generation. I know that one day I might be in the doctor’s office with my daughter listening to the same talk I received December 2011. Hopefully we will never have to go there, but if we do, I know that the support and perspective that I’ll be able to provide my daughter can make or break a diagnosis.

In sickness and in health, literally

My husband, Nate, was there from the start of my Crohn’s journey. samI remember explaining to him at one point that this disease would be something I will deal with my whole life and it was okay for him to leave me. It’s really hard to put my relationship with my husband into words. When it comes to Crohn’s, the thought of all he does to support me, makes me tear up. He knew that after our wedding day he would take my mom’s place at all my appointments and be my sole caregiver. Nate never shied away from the challenge and it makes me love him more and more everyday. He is my number one and having support from him means the world to me.

Despite receiving the IBD diagnosis a week before getting married, our wedding day was amazing! I look back and don’t remember being sick (thanks to the steroids!). Throughout our lives there will be days we get to be “normal” and we try to embrace those times as a couple and as a family. Don’t allow for this disease to control all aspects of your life. Have that amazing wedding and find a spouse who loves you regardless of your illness. You deserve that and so much more!

Finding peace through support and letting go

Fast forward to this month. Following my scope, I had surgery to remove an abscess. My husband and I had planned a date night for that evening and already had a sitter. We traded our dinner and play tickets in for a night out at the hospital. This was my second surgery to remove an abscess. It doesn’t get any easier, but I have a different mindset now that I am a mom.  _ADP6466

It’s always hard to leave our daughter Kamryn. We are very blessed to have an amazing support system that we can rely on. It’s so helpful to know that when you are going through a medical procedure, the person taking care of your child loves them as much as you do.  We do not have any biological family in Utah. However, we have an amazing church family that really loves and takes care of us just as well.

My advice to fellow IBD parents is to find peace in knowing that your child will understand one day how much sacrifice you have made to fight this disease. There will come a day when they will ask you questions and you can share your experiences with them.  

I am healing well and my doctors are monitoring things to make sure my Crohn’s stays under control. I have had routine blood work since the surgery and it looks like I will be going in for an MRI this week to check on my liver. While these unexpected twists and turns in my patient journey don’t get easier, I’ve learned not to focus on what I can’t control.

The bright spot of my journey

I was blessed to be able to have a baby girl in January. After so many years of hating my body and being sick, my body finally showed me what it’s capable of. I know that my journey with Crohn’s has made me the best mom possible for my sweet Kamryn. Even though my body may be riddled with illness, it was still able to create a perfect miracle. sAM

I have learned to deal with life in a completely unorthodox way, because of my disease. I am a better mom, wife, daughter, sister, coworker, employee, and friend. Don’t get me wrong, there are days I wonder ‘God, why me, why this disease?’ But I know deep down I am stronger for it and He will see me through the tough times and setbacks. As someone who grew up with an IBD mom, it’s my hope Kamryn will someday look at me the same way I look at my mom.

 

The days are long, but the years are short with chronic illness

The days are long, but the years are short. Oftentimes this ‘saying’ is commonly shared when talking about parenting. This past weekend my first born turned two. A rush of emotions came over me as we celebrated my son Reid’s special day. I got to thinking—the same is true for life with chronic illness. Reids second bday

The days are long, but the years are short. When you hear that life-sentence uttered from a doctor, your world comes to a standstill. Everything from your past and everything in your future seems to come to an abrupt halt. You feel like you’re suffocating and there’s no way you can go on. But you do.

The days are long, but the years are short. As I come up on 14 years this summer since my diagnosis of Crohn’s disease, I can hardly recall who I was before my IBD. That person, that identity—seems somewhat foreign to me. When you think “14 years”, it sounds like a long time—but, it feels like a blink of an eye. It’s a blur of experiences—some painful, some amazing. I choose to focus on the amazing.

The days are long, but the years are short. When you’re dealing with abdominal pain, when everything just hurts, when you experience nausea and vomiting moments after you try and eat, the days feel endless. IMG_8476When you’re in the thick of a flare and when feel good days feel far from ever being a possibility, try and remember how fleeting these moments are.

The days are long, but the years are short. When you’re being rolled in for another CT scan in the emergency room, when the nurse can’t seem to get an IV started on the fifth try, when you’re dreading your injection, when the colonoscopy prep is making you gag on your knees in the middle of the night in the bathroom, when you’re up counting the hours before surgery, feeling like the world is on your shoulders—remind yourself, this too shall pass.

The days are long, but the years are short. With children as they grow up, we can visually see the physical change going on. Two years ago, my son was a newborn, IMG_6459today he’s a rumbustious, adorable, little ball of energy. Sure, we age, too—but we also mature mentally when it comes to our illness. What felt like the biggest obstacle and scare of our life, evolves into something that is a part of who we are, an identity that while not ideal, helps to define us.

The days are long, but the years are short. Every year without needing to be hospitalized, every year where you feel like you have your disease under control, every year where your health doesn’t take you away from the life you are yearning for, hold on to those years.

The days are long, but the years are short. Rather than wish time away, I try and remind myself how each and every comeback is stronger than the setback. That every time I’ve been knocked to my knees by my disease in the past, I’ve come out of the storm stronger and with greater perspective about this life I’ve been given.

The days are long, but the years are short. You don’t always have to love your life. You can certainly mourn the loss of who you were prior to diagnosis, lord knows I did. remedy-nsmith-stlouis-1283But I can promise you, that as life goes on and as the years since that moment of diagnosis get further and further in the rear view mirror, you will find a comfort in this identity.

The days are long, but the years are short. You will garner a confidence in your strength that wasn’t there years before. And someday, you too will pause and think about where you’ve been and how far you’ve come to reach this moment. I hope you give yourself a proverbial pat on the back to honor your resilience and determination to live your life despite all the what if’s, despite all the pain, despite all the worry. Because you my friend, are a warrior—day in and day out—and you are so much more than your disease.

Why my husband is much more than a caregiver, Dr. Phil

I still remember the moment I told my husband I had Crohn’s disease. It was a beautiful August afternoon. We sat overlooking water at a boathouse in St. Louis on our third date. As we enjoyed casual conversation and a mutual interest in one another, I knew I had to tell him about my chronic illness.

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Photo from our third date, the day I told Bobby I had Crohn’s disease.

Nervous to rock the boat. Scared to be judged. Worried it would tarnish the image of who I was so far. I just wanted to rip off the band aid and get this conversation over with.

It was never easy to navigate dating and relationships with my disease. I was diagnosed with Crohn’s at age 21 in 2005. I met Bobby in August 2013 at age 29. Rather than seem put off by my disease, he inquired and showed empathy from that point forward. Never once did he make me feel less than or unworthy of love. In that moment, I knew I had found someone special and I felt a huge sense of relief.

Fast forward to this past month and all the conversation surrounding Dr. Phil’s heartless and ignorant comments about caregiving and relationships. I didn’t see the episode live, but have seen the countless posts on social media being shared to prove him wrong. I watched the interview clip after the segment aired and couldn’t believe my eyes or my ears. Dr. Phil told an interabled couple that “100 out of 100 relationships that involve caregiving fail.”

Photo by J Elizabeth Photography www.jelizabethphotos.com

Helping me walk down stairs during our engagement photos–21 days post op from my bowel resection surgery. Photo cred: J. Elizabeth Photography

It pains me to even write the idiotic words that man said. Not only is it upsetting, but it breaks my heart to think of all the young, newly diagnosed chronic illness patients out there who were already wondering if they were worthy of love because of living with a disease.

IMG_0077I’m here to tell you that you are. I truly believe my vulnerability with my Crohn’s and how I deal with flare ups is a big part of why my husband fell in love with me. Chronic illness isn’t pretty. It forces you to see the world without rose-colored glasses. It makes you realize the importance of your health and how quickly it can be taken away from you.

There’s a reason why you say “in sickness and in health” in wedding vows. My husband chose to spend his life with me, because he loves all of me—even the part of me that is riddled with illness. People are cut out to be caregivers or they’re not. You’ll come across this in your life and know which family members and friends have a special way about them. Those who don’t have this trait and ability aren’t meant to marry people like you and me. And that’s fine.

But to say that 100 out of 100 couples will fail because caregiving is involved couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s through Bobby’s caregiving that I continue to fall more and more in love with him. It’s those moments when I need help to get through a pain-filled day that I’m reminded just how strong and unbreakable our love is.

IMG_9492Caregiving looks and means different things to everyone. It’s not just about being a caregiver in the hospital or at a nursing home. It’s taking care of the one(s) you love on a typical day at home. It can be something as simple as rubbing your back or taking care of the kids while you’re stuck in the bathroom. It can be dishing you out ice cream after you give yourself an injection. Or holding your hand on a walk outside following a hospitalization. It’s those caregiving moments in particular that remind me constantly of the everlasting love I’ve found and make me 100 percent positive we will make it through, for the rest of my life.

My words of advice for you—if you’re a caregiver, know how appreciated you are—for all the little things and the big things. photo by J Elizabeth Photography www.jelizabethphotos.comIf you’re someone dealing with a disability/disease—don’t allow Dr. Phil’s ridiculously inaccurate comments make you think you aren’t worthy of love, because you are and always will be.