One year......a hard walk to remember.

A year has passed, and the heartache still creeps in and cripples me at times.  I woke up this morning and was unsure how I would feel.  This week has been painful and has brought about an awareness of what Aaron and I lost.  I have heard the year mark is almost as painful as the day it happened.  It definitely takes me back to that place of extreme heartache, suffocation, and complete emptiness.  I can still see the pain and helplessness in my husband's eyes on that day.......longing to take it all on himself just so I didn't have to endure the emotional and physical pain any longer.  12 months, 365 days, 52 weeks have passed, and I have been holding on to the memory of her little kicks and the peacefulness and utter happiness of having her safe in my belly......and, as I woke up this morning those are the memories I have chosen to hold on to.  Her little kicks, my overflowing heart, and my peaceful mind.  The pain and trauma of her loss will always be tucked away back there, somewhere in the depths of my mind where heartache lives, and as anyone who has lost someone or has grieved the loss of someone knows....you cannot control when that monster hiding in the swampy, depths will surface.  But, when it does I will embrace the twinge in my heart and the ache in my gut as mine.  I lived that pain and those tears, and if at times those tears resurface  I will not be ashamed.  Over the year I have learned that pain stuffed is detrimental to your mind and body.  When it hurts cry, and when it is too much to take on your own let someone carry some of that pain for you.  But, at the end of the day guide that monster back to the depths and push forward.  Life is still worth living, the sun is still shining, and you have to continue.....there is so much life left out there, and I can't live like I am dying.  Today, as Aaron and I are surrounded by family and friends, I will remember our daughter.....her kicks, the unconditional love for someone I will never get to see on this earth, and the peace she brought me while she was here with us.  Yes, there will most likely be tears shed, but at the end of the day I will smile, I will go on, because in reality she will always live on  within our hearts.

My Dearest Nora,

It has been a year since we had to say goodbye to you.  I am sorry it has taken me this long to talk to you, but your mom likes to put Band-Aids on her wounds, never allowing them to truly heal.  Your daddy and I wish you were here with us every single day, and that we could have healed your wounds, but the doctor's said there was no hope......just know we fought so hard and did all we could. Overtime,  I have found a bit of peace knowing you are not in pain, and never had to feel an ounce of suffering.  We just wish you were here with us.  I can only imagine there were loads of people up there waiting for you when you arrived.  I bet they fight everyday over who gets to hold you and rock you to sleep, and I hope you are smothered in kisses all day long.  I lie in bed sometimes and wonder what you would have looked like and how you would have most definitely lit up a room.  Would you have daddies blue eyes and his sense of humor?  Would you have mommies tiny feet and hands and her feistiness?  What I wouldn't give to have been allowed the gift to watch you grow.  Our hopes and dreams for you were more than anyone can imagine.  This morning your mommy and daddy will be attending a walk in remembrance of you and all other babies who were taken to soon.  We will be releasing a balloon for you, so watch for it, you will know which one it is because I am sure there will be quite a few floating around up there.  Thankfully we will be surrounded by family and friends, so don't worry if mommy and daddy cry for you , it is only because we wish you were here.  Nora Katherine Ellis, we love you with all of our heart, and you will never be forgotten.  You will always be our first baby. Now, go play with your cousin Jacob, let Great Great Aunt Helen smother you in kisses, and you have four grandpas up there that I know are dying to snuggle you.  Be our guardian angel beautiful baby, and we will see you one day.  I will be checking in with you so listen for my voice.  Love you to the depths of my soul.

Your Mom

Anxiety and Panic Attacks.....Can't Live with them....Can't get a Xanax prescription without them!

It has been a while since I have written a new post, but today is the day I need to unload a piece of this tiny little demon that is putting a halt to all the things I love in my life right now.  Panic......such an ugly emotion that serves no purpose in anyone's life, but unfortunately plagues more than you could ever imagine.  Take a second, look around you, I would put large amounts of shoes, pickles, bottles of red wine, strawberry rhubarb pie, and exercise (all things I looooovvvee) that half of the people you are surrounded by each day suffer from some form of anxiety or panic disorder. The thought of that gives me an ache in my chest and a pit in my belly.  I remember when I had my first panic attack and life was turned upside down for this little independent firecracker.  June 26th, 1999....My best friend Kylie and I were on our way to a party out in the country at a friends house, a typical summer night!  As we approached the house , a huge Rottweiler came running up to the car....oh.....no.  I may or may not have a large fear of dogs and immediately tensed up.  I was told as we started to exit the car to make sure I put my hands up by my head or the dog would bite me.........Yup this is where I would die,  I was going to meet my maker and become dinner for this beast of a dog.  Little did I know at the time this beast of a dog was actually a lover and wouldn't hurt a fly, but some thought it would be funny to get a rise out of me not knowing what was about to come.  As I made my way as quickly as possible to the house, hands right by my head as instructed, I didn't realize how shallow I was breathing.  By the time I made it inside I had this tingling in my hands that continued to get worse and worse, which in return frightened me causing me to continue the shallow breathing and eventually turned into full on hyperventilation.  Needsless to say, I PANICKED!  I got Kylie and told her something was wrong and I needed to get home immediately.  As Kylie gathered friends to drive us back into town the tingling got worse and eventually caused my muscles to stiffen and my hands to posture, unable to move my fingers.  My heart was racing, my throat felt like it was closing up, I couldn't focus, I fealt a fear unlike any other I had ever felt, and I couldn't breathe. In my teenage mind, I was dieing.  As we drove back to town I screamed and cried for them to not let me die, they called 911 so the ambulance could meet us at my house and rush me to the hospital. No one knew what was happening, and this was a brand new experience for me that was just wrong....no other words to explain it but wrong.  Terrified out of my mind I was loaded up into an ambulance and rushed to Liberal to find out what was happening to my tiny, once healthy little body one hour prior.  As the EMT's worked on me I was questioned about what drugs I may have taken?, how much alcohol I had?, did someone at the party slip me something?,.... I mean you have to be on something!! Really?!?!  I was this scared little girl, feeling like my world was collapsing around me and I had to defend myself to people who were supposed to help me?  As I explained to them I did not do drugs ( had never touched one in my life) and I hadn't drank anything or put any substance in my body prior to this happening, my answers were reciprocated with looks of "Do you think we are idiots?"  "We know you are on something and not telling us the truth!"  As the EMTs wheeled me into the ER I can hear one explaining to they doctor that they expect a drug overdose and that I should be throughouly tested for all substances.  After hours of unneccesary testing, because yes my body was clean of all substances minus a vanilla Dr. Pepper or two, I was released with the diagnosis of hyperventilation associated with a severe panic attack.  Awesome!  No big deal, nothing serious just a little freak out......or so I thought.  The next morning I woke up and I just felt different,  I was a little dizzy, had this terrible headache, and just didn't feel like the girl from 24 hours ago.  Most people would be able to just shake off the attack and move on, unfortunately that little panic attack triggered something in my brain causing a chemical imbalance that has plagued me ever since.  The day after the attack I tried to go about my day as I would any other day, but it seemed as though my mind had different plans.  I couldn't get the fear of another attack occurring out of my mind.....which in return causes more and more attacks to happen.  It didn't help that at the same time I was trying to figure out this new normal. I was fighting off rumors that I was a drug addict, that I overdosed on drugs, and sadly those EMT's who were suppose to help me were behind spreading those painful rumors.  Welcome to a small town folks.  I had parent's not wanting their kids to be around me because of my "addiction", and from that day on I was looked at differently.  If those people knew now how much those rumors broke my heart and destroyed my reputation I wonder if they would be sorry today?  Especially since I have never used drugs before, unless you count prescription medications to treat my anxiety.  The next year, my senior year, was probably the worst year of my life. Dealing with attacks at school, unable to drive a car, unable to leave my house at times, and plagued with an unexplainable fear from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to sleep.  Things were so bad I had to have my sisters sit outside the door when I used the restroom, someone had to lay in bed with me until I fell asleep, the list goes on and on of the things that took me from one of the most independent people to a prisoner of my own body.  After time, the medications that doctors prescribed to me started to work and started to make me feel better.  This was not an overnight change, but two years after my first attack I was finally starting to feel a bit of normalcy.  I am not saying that it was fixed, done, stick a band aid on it and call it a day, I had my bad days, but my good days were starting to out weight the bad.  Eventually, I developed the tools I needed to handle each attack when it came instead of depending on a medication to bring me back to reality.....what an amazing feeling.  I had this new lease on life and a positive outlook for the future, so I decided it was time to break the cycle and I packed my things and moved to Denver, CO in November of 2004.  What an amazing, life changing decision.  The next 7 years were the best of my life.  I became that independent little firecracker again, met my soulmate, and took control of my life and my future. I couldn't force myself to have a panic attack if I wanted to.  In late 2010 after realizing my husband and I were going to need assistance starting a family I was put on hormones to give our chances that little extra oomph.  Things were going great, so in July 2011 we decided to go full force and pumped my body full of every hormone possible....estrogen, progesterone, chlomid, and HCG injections.  Oh boy, my body was not happy.  Something about the overload of hormones triggered that imbalance in my brain and BOOM, full on panic attacks every waking moment. The worst part of it was that my husband had never seen melike that.....falling apart, sobbing, feeling like I was dieing, and unable to do the things I loved.  I was ashamed, embarrassed, and never wanted him to see me like this.  But, in his supportive fashion he held me when I was falling apart and stood by me every second until this phase of panic passed.  Fortunately, the recovery was quicker then in the past and I was able to regain control of my life and move forward.  The next year of our lives, as you have all read in my past blog, was one of the most traumatic and painful years my husband and I have had to endure, but with support from our friends and loved ones we were able to conquer that mountain of pain and I came out on on the other side without being plagued with the panic attacks that I assumed would show their ugly little heads.  As the time passed I became stronger and felt like it was ok to move forward and continue with things that I use to love to do, and three weeks ago that is what I decided to do.  Along with my husband, my sister-in-law and her husband we started a bootcamp.  The first two weeks were amazing, I hadn't felt that good in a very long time and I was slowing melting away that extra 8 pounds I needed to get rid of from not taking the best care of my body over the past 6 months.  I had this new lease on life and the future was looking pretty bright for Aaron and I.  We were both getting back into shape, we would be closing on our new home in August, and talks of starting to try to have a baby again had begun......I was feeling pretty good about life.  Then on July 9th, after a combination of a cold virus, depleted magnesium and sodium from intense exercise I developed a little syndrom called POTS, Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome. I don't think there is anything scarier than when your ticker decides to malfunction. The first week was terrible, I couldn't walk two feet without feeling as though I would faint. My heart rate would jump from 65 beats per second resting to 130 beats per second the minute I go to my feet. This syndrome causes extreme fatigue, while at the same time my adrenalin is pumping constantly. Going through your day-to-day in a chronic adrenalin rush is exhausting, as well as taxing on my body and a gas pedal for my panic attacks. I felt defeated. The attacks were back, and I would once again have to fight this uphill battle of fear. The past month there have been moments where I have wanted to give up, I didn't think I could face this journey again, and I was ashamed of this panic plague once again. I questioned, "why me?" "why am I being tested over and over?" "Please God, Please I need a little break from the pain and emotional boxing match in my head." "Can't I be given just a small ounce of peace?" There are no answers to my questions, I just have to accept my path as my own, and just try and make it better. I can't be embarrased of something that I cannot control. This is me, every tear, every panic attack, every brick that is thrown at my head lately, and I just have to own it. Right now I am going on week 4 of this syndrome that will eventually subside over time, I just have to wait it out. (the wait is kind of hard when you are living with a heart holster monitor attached to your chest and a monitor hanging from your pocket morning, noon, and night) The monitor gets me sad looks all the time, mostly because I think people thing it is a walkman and I might have a few screws loose because come on......nobody sells cassette tapes anymore. But, I don't want pity.....my blog is all about giving people an understanding of things they may have never known. Panic attacks are real....and I wouldn't wish them on anyone, but they do get better, it just takes time. Time some feel they don't have, but I know I am worth the time, so I am confident this little panic demon will be heading south soon. FINGERS CROSSED!!!! If anyone out there suffers from this, just know you aren't alone....there are millions of people who suffer right along side you. Don't give up, don't let the panic win. Just take it one day at a time and one day you will wake up and realize the control is once again yours.

LOSS.....such an ugly 4 letter word!

I know my past posts have been comical, and lighthearted, but unfortunately not all of our stories have a happy ending. I debated when I would tell this story to the world, but I have only recently learned that when something is on your mind or weighing heavy on your heart you should let it out. Holding things in often does more damage to your soul and your well being than just letting people hear your voice and your story. So, we are going to go back to 2010....I can't tell you what month because the moments were such a blur....Aaron and I had been married for 3 years and we were ready to take that next big step, starting a family. We couldn't wait to have sleepless nights, tired days, and a heart full of an indescribable love. Unfortunately,  that is all we did for the first two years was wait. Every month would pass us by with disappointment and frustration. Why couldn't I get pregnant? What was wrong with me? These questions flooded my mind every single day. As time passed and disappointment increased Aaron and I decided I needed to see a doctor to find out why things were not going as planned. Numerous vials of blood work and a horrific HSG test that went terribly wrong later, and it was determined that I was not producing enough hormones and I had a potential blockage in one of my fallopian tubes. Wheeew, these were all things that could be managed and fixed, I felt much better. After getting the results of all the testing, we decided to proceed with hormone therapy before jumping into surgery for the potential blockage. I would like to say that was an easy process, but hell no it wasn't! I am pretty sure my husband was married to an out of control, hormone zombie for a solid 6 months. The medicine took my moods on a rollercoaster ride every month, and after 6 unsuccessful cycles we decided it was time to bust out the big guns and head to the operating room. Three hours later my doctor had unwound my colon from around my left fallopian tube and removed scar tissue that had attached my uterus to my bladder due to a bad case of endometriosis. (I am telling you it was a mess in there) Recovery was not bad, and at my two week post op appointment my doctor gave me the encouraging news that I went from a 3% chance of getting pregnant each month to a 15% chance like every other healthy, normal woman. I was ecstatic and hopeful, but still hesitant to let my heart open up completely to the idea that things could work out and our dreams of being parents would finally be realized. Four more months passed us by with no results, and I was tired. Neither Aaron nor I could take the heartache of trying so hard and being let down every month, so we decided that we were done. No more trying, no more heartache, we were just going to enjoy our lives and start living them once again not consumed by ovulation tests and perfect timing. We spent that month just living and enjoying every second of it, not thinking about trying to conceive. Then...Mother's Day was upon us. This had become a bit of a hard day for me because I feared I would never be a mother. But, as usual I went through the motions and celebrated my mother and my mother-in-law with a smile on my face and a twinge in my heart, and the evil presence of Aunt Flo and her crampy minions right around the corner. The next day was like any other day; I came home, grabbed my laptop, and buried myself in homework. Not 10 minutes later my husband walked in the door, and threw a box of pregnancy tests at me, I looked at him like he had lost his mind. I knew my body very well by then, and I wasn't expected to start my cycle for two days so I asked him, “Why would I take a pregnancy test right now?” He explained to me that for the past week I had been acting like a crazy lunatic, my emotions were all over the place, and I just wasn't acting like myself.....he just had this gut feeling that I was pregnant. I continued to tell him he was crazy, but I grabbed a test and huffed and puffed the entire way to the bathroom. There was no way I was pregnant....we didn't even try.....we didn't take hormones....it just wasn't possible.....HOLY SHIT....I was pregnant. The minute I peed on that little stick it was positive. I was in shock; I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I walked into the family room with that little stick in my hand, and I just lost it.....we cried, laughed, jumped up and down, hugged, stopped ourselves from calling everyone we knew and shouting out the good news, and then I proceeded to take 9 more tests to make sure it was real. I have to say I have never felt happiness before like I felt that day; it will be a day that I will cherish forever. The next day I called my Dr. and he was overjoyed. He had me come in at the end of that week to do a blood test and an ultrasound to verify I was really pregnant. On that little screen, we saw the little pea, and it was clear.....I was pregnant! My due date was set for January 24^th, 2013. As the weeks passed by I experienced the first trimester exhaustion, a little bit of naseau, and this overwhelming sense of peace that I have never felt before. My 10 week appointment came and went, everything was looking great. I was seen again at 12 weeks and then again at 14 weeks for a first trimester screening to make sure everything was going as it should. Our little baby was growing and progressing perfectly, no complications whatsoever.....let me tell you that was a wonderful feeling. At week 16 Aaron and I decided to go have an ultrasound to determine the gender....we just couldn’t' wait. But, we had to wait a couple of days because we decided to have a gender reveal party and let Aaron's sister Abby reveal the gender to us. She put together a wonderful celebration for us. To reveal the gender she decorated a huge box and filled it with balloons (either pink or blue) that we opened in front of everyone. As we pulled the box open pink balloons came pouring out, floating to the sky, letting us know we would be welcoming a precious little girl into this world. The next 4 weeks went by with ease; I had decided I could be pregnant forever! I felt amazing, nothing had gone wrong, and it was just easy! Then it was here.....the big 20 week appointment. As I got ready to head to the doctor's office with Aaron and my mom, he asked me if I was nervous.  “Nervous? Why would I be nervous?”  Nothing could bring me off the cloud I had been on for the past 20 weeks. When we got there we had our ultrasound done which was amazing. We got to see her little face, her tiny little hands and feet, and we just watched in awe as she bounced around on the screen. The ultrasound tech finished and had us wait in a room to see the doctor, never giving any sign of distress. My doctor came into the room about ten minutes later and I just knew something was wrong. He had this look of panic on his face as he told us that our baby had too much fluid on her brain and that we would need to see a specialist immediately. I couldn't speak….I didn't know what to say. Finally, I broke down. My husband had this look of distress on his face and he drilled our doctor for answers. Could this be fixed? Is our baby going to be ok? Unfortunately, our doctor couldn't give us these answers. As I walked out of the room I looked at him and asked, "Is our baby sick?" and he answered, "At this moment, yes, she is very sick." I don't remember the drive home.....all I remember is coming home, curling up in a ball, and losing it. Through my tears and my cries, I prayed harder than I have ever prayed before. Please let the doctor be wrong!! Please let our baby be ok!! I will do anything!! My husband, on the other hand, jumped into action, determined to take away my pain...our pain. He called specialists and pediatric neurosurgeons hoping to find answers. The next day we had an appointment with a specialist who deals with high risks pregnancies.......How did I get here? My pregnancy had been perfect......Why is this happeneing? As the doctor performed the ultrasound it was determined, our baby had severe hydrocephalus due to a bilateral blockage in her ventricles and had become worse overnight. The specialist let us know that things did not look good, our baby would most likely not make it through the pregnancy, and if she did her first 5 years of life would be spent in hospitals and operating rooms with very little chance of any quality of life. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. My husband and I just sat there in that room, holding each other and we cried until there were no more tears left to cry. Our hopes and dreams for this little miracle were ripped away with the blink of an eye.  For the next 4 weeks I became a prisoner to my home and my body, leaving only to go to more doctors’ appointments to determine why this had happened.....I sat in the same spot, in the same chair waiting to lose our first child. I can't explain to you how horrible that feeling is. Everyday her spastic movement in my belly became worse due to the amount of fluid pressing on her brain, at times kicking me over and over for 30 minutes straight. I refused to let my husband touch my tummy; I wanted to protect him from as much pain and heartache as I could. I even stopped touching my stomach......the pain, and heartache was just too much. Minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days, and days felt like an eternity, and then on September 28th, 2013 after 4 hours of laboring, our daughter Nora Katherine Ellis became our guardian angel. We will never get to hold her, rock her to sleep, kiss her little cheeks, watch her take her first steps......as I was told by a friend to ease my pain, she was just to perfect for this Earth. The next couple of months were some of the toughest Aaron and I have faced together, falling apart and holding each other up, needing medication just to sleep and get through each day, and facing a life that was going to be different than the life we left behind such a short time ago. Luckily we are blessed with some of the most amazing friends and family, giving us more support than a person can ask for. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case for everyone. We lost a lot of friends along the way as well. Some not knowing how to handle what WE were going through, so they ran in the other direction because easing the discomfort they felt was more important than supporting friends. I understand it is easier to not deal with things than to deal with them, but I felt like I was being punished for my tragedy. You definitely learn who truly cares in moments like these, and Aaron and my eyes were yanked wide open to this fact. As milestones past: the date of my shower, my due date, mother's day.....days got a little easier. Anger became sadness, sadness become acceptance, and acceptance became hope for a better tomorrow. My husband is the one person I have to thank for being where I am right now. He wouldn't let me fade away, and he helped me in the depths of winter find an endless summer. I couldn't ask for a better partner in life. I wake up now with the hopes of becoming pregnant again and having the family we have always wanted. As I sit here writing this I can recognize the feeling that I am feeling is me.....of who I use to be before all of this. I am finally feeling like myself again, mentally, physically, emotionally, and I am heading forward. I can no longer look back towards that dark time; I have to head into the future with the hopes that everything will be ok. I would like to say that the sadness has subsided, but it has a way of creeping up and smacking you in the face. All it takes is someone saying something that draws up those memories, a post on Facebook, or the picture of someone's precious little miracle that gives me a lump in my throat. But, I will not let this destroy me or define me. I will not become a victim of our tragedy. New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings......time to take a deep breath, move forward, and make the next day better than the last. All I ask of anyone who reads this is please appreciate your children. Do not take them for granted. Squeeze them every chance you get, tell them you love them every time they cross your path, hold them when they are sick or scared, and thank god every day for getting the chance to be their mommy or daddy.  


New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings......time to take a deep breath, move forward, and make the next day better than the last.

 

Married to a fugitive......

I know it has been a bit since I have posted anything, but life got in the way for a minute!  So, for this post we are going to jump back to July 2007.  Aaron and I had just returned from our wonderful honeymoon in Playa del Carmen, sun burnt, a little fatter (the food was amazing), and sand in places sand should never go.  Our flight arrived roughly around 8:00 that evening and we were scooped up by his parents and taken back to our apartment.  After dumping our sand filled belongings off at the apartment we decided to jump in the car and run over to his parent's house to pick up our wedding gifts, my bouquet, and other little odds and ends we left scattered their after the wedding.  Due to our exhaustion and the intense rumblin in my tum from Arby's on the way home from the airport we loaded up the car and made a quick exit.  Let me just say that our apartment was roughly a fifteen minute drive from Aaron's parent’s house, and the entire way home I felt a bathroom emergency creeping up on me! (Sorry for the over share, but I have to state the facts here people) As I am sitting on the edge of my seat filled with a little anxiety and queasiness I can see our apartment building two blocks ahead and let out a sigh of somewhat relief knowing I would be rescued from this uncomfortable car ride any minute! Then it happened.....red and blue lights flashing behind us.  My immediate reaction is panic and to ask Aaron every so politely, "honey, whatever could you have done to make this kind officer pull you over? No, no....don't worry I don't have to go to the bathroom at all honey....Of course I can hold it."  As the officer approaches the vehicles he lets us know the reason for him pulling us over two blocks from our house, with not one but two bathrooms, is our plates had expired the previous week. REALLY!!?!? "We were on our honeymoon sir and just got back, we will get them updated first thing tomorrow" was Aaron's reply. Before he could even finish his sentence he shines his flashlight in Aaron's face and rudely asks, "Sir...have you been drinking?"…..  YOU HAVE CAT TO BE KITTEN ME RIGHT MEOW!!!  Aaron told the officer of course he hadn't.  Did that officer believe him....NOPE.  So, the officer asked Aaron if he minded doing some field sobriety tests to prove that he wasn't drinking.   All I can think at this moment is honey, get out this damn car, say those backward ABC's, touch your foot to your face, tap dance a straight line, and get me the hell home!!!  My husband, not angry at this point at all, gently tells the officer, "how about I take a breathalyzer right now and save us all some time?"  I would say this went over well with the officer, but Aaron was in so many words saying, "Hey d-bag I haven't been drinking and you have no reason to harass us!"  The officer, obviously miffed, asks for Aaron's ID and registration before heading back to his cruiser.....oops!  When Aaron and I dumped our stuff at our apartment he also walked off without his wallet.  Great.....this is not looking good for Aaron, his car seat, or the outfit I was wearing.   The officer agrees to let Aaron give him his full name and date of birth and retreats back to his car.  So we sit, and we wait, and we wait and we wait a little longer.  What the heck could possibly be taking so long?  I was fighting back the tears and even the laughter at this point, because this situation was just ridiculous but oh so common for Aaron and I.  Then all of a sudden three other cop cars pull up with their lights on and all we hear is, "PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM...PUT BOTH HANDS OUT THE WINDOW."  OH.......NO.  As the officer approaches with his gun pulled he yanks Aaron out of the car and tells him to put his hands behind his back and cuffs him immediately.  While all of this is going on America's Most Wanted (that is what I will be calling my husband for the remainder of the story) is begging for answers.  What is he being arrested for?  Obviously they have made a huge mistake.  As I am freaking out in the front seat I look over and they have a female officer standing at my door making sure I don't do anything stupid like cry, or ask questions...REALLY!! After patting America's Most Wanted down they sit him cuffed on the curb, remove me from the vehicle and have me get in the police car to answer questions.  How tall is your husband? "Well he is roughly around 6'2" ...6'3" when he is wearing heels", which the officer immediately tells me there is no way, I must be lying, because the officer was 6'2" and there was just no way.  An intelligence response to my answer if you ask me, so I kindly told him to step out of the car, stand Aaron up and he would see I was in fact telling the truth.  How much does your husband weigh? "I think about 215?"  Did he gain about 65 pounds in the past 6 months or so? Hmmmm......nope he definitely didn't put on 65 pounds in 6 months.  They continued to ask questions, as I am rocking back and forth, with visions of my bathroom flashing before my eyes, which I seemed to disappoint them with every answer I gave.  After about 30 minutes of questioning I was finally told that a person with my husband’s first name and date of birth was a wanted felon with a rap sheet a mile long with crimes I don't even want to mention in this blog they are that disgusting.  At one point this person used my husband's last name as an alias which now connects his name and date of birth to this criminal.  It doesn't help that Aaron has the same scar on his hand (I will get to that story later) as this outstanding gentleman, as well as tattoos in the same places, but he was 5’7” 157lbs….obviously not my husband... unfortunately without any forms of identification there was no way of proving that America's Most Wanted was actually not the guy they were looking for.  I pleaded with the police officer to let me run over to our apartment, which was a block away, and grab his driver's license, military ID, as well as his passport.  The cop wasn't budging.  He wanted to take my husband to jail, then we could bail him out and go to court with the proof he wasn't this person.  Let me just tell ya, I ain't too proud to beg, so after a while he finally agreed to let his band of brothers (oh and one sister) escort me into my apartment to retrieve his identification.  By this time two hours had passed with AMW sitting on the curb in cuffs.  After shoving him into the back of one of the police cars we were on our way with a lovely blue and red escort into our apartment complex.  Not one car, not two cars, but four police vehicles with their lights shining bright parked in front of our apartment.  As I am walking up the stairs to our front door followed by three uniforms I see people peeking out their doors at who they think is a criminal living above them. AWESOME! The minute I walk in the door I see Aaron's wallet and hand it over, hoping this whole ordeal would end soon.  Once back downstairs the officer runs America's Most Wanted's information and I can see a light at the end of this dark, damp, smelly tunnel we have found ourselves in.  They finally see my husband is not the guy they think he is.  You can see the disappointment in their eye's that they didn't just make a huge bust on their boring patrol.  Sorry fellas.  As they pull my husband out of the cop car you can just see the fury in his eyes, but he just wants the whole ordeal to be over so he says nothing.  They unlatch his cuffs, and his wrists are bruised and his arms are sore....poor guy went through some hell.  After a few minutes the captain pulls up, parks his car, and approaches us with a, I am so sorry, look on his face.  He shakes Aaron's hand, apologizes and explains to him that because his name was used by this individual as an alias and they share the same date of birth, he will need to go to the Colorado Bureau of Investigation and be fingerprinted for every charge this person has and they will give him a letter that he will need to carry around with him in case a situation like this occurs again.  WHAT?  This could happen again? He explained that until this person is caught Aaron's name and date of birth will be attached to this d-bags record until he is caught.  Of course that is how it is!!!  Exhausted from the night's events we finish our conversation with the chief of police and turn to head up the stairs to our apartment.  All of a sudden we hear the officer that originally pulled us over tell us to stop, then ask the chief if he should still ticket us for the expired tags......hahahaha let's just say after what took place that night we were not ticketed.  Finally we were behind closed doors and at this point my bathroom window had been slammed shut and all we wanted to do was go to bed.  Not so fast......those nice gentlemen left our front door open the entire time and our cats were now out on a midnight escapade picking up chicks. Could this night get any more ridiculous?  After about 30 minutes of looking like a lunatic, shaking a bowl of cat food all over god's green earth, yelling "Here KITTY KITTY!" we located the tomcats and headed to bed.  The next day Aaron woke up with bruised wrists and an engrained fear of bar soap.  After telling this preposterous story to others in the following days all we could do was laugh and add it to the list of crazy tales we had already compiled in our short time together. In the following week Aaron spent a half of a day getting fingerprinted and cleared of every charge this pillar of society had against him and left with a stack of letters to have on hand in case he needed them.  I would like to say he never had to hand over that letter, but renting an apartment, changing jobs, and even buying a house were delayed due to this issue of mistaken identity.  We haven't had to whip out that letter in quite awhile thankfully, so we are hopeful this person is now behind bars where he belongs.  But unfortunately that doesn't take away the humiliation and pride damaging night my husband had to go through.  We can laugh about it now, but hey.....it gets a little old when your husband starts sweating profusely, wets himself, and pukes every time he sees a cop, but he definitely makes life an exciting adventure every day!

Wait...Was that who I think it was???........NAHHHH!!!

As I lay in bed last night I thought about how I planned on writing this blog.  Did I want to go in the order that events took place, or bounce around and go all over the place eventually landing on my feet in the place we have found ourselves today? Well, life has been nothing but a set of twists and turns and unexpected occurrences why try to keep the order now!  This next little adventure happens to be one of my favorite stories Aaron and I share.  It may seem a little farfetched, a tad unbelievable, but trust me.....it happened!

Let's bounce back to August 2007.  At this time Aaron and I were newlyweds, only a month’s time had passed since we signed on that dotted line and became each other’s partner in crime.  It started as any other typical Saturday, get up, get dressed and make a plan for the day.  As we went through the typical couple debate of, "I don't care what do you want to do?" "I don't care.....whatever you want to do?" a light popped on and I remembered The Taste of Colorado was this weekend! YES! That is exactly what we will do.  What better way to spend a beautiful August Saturday then handing over large amounts of money for tickets to purchase icy, cold beer and dabbling in a little bit of everything Denver's restaurants had to offer! As we entered into the realm of shoulder to shoulder crowds, food, beer, and vendor booths we knew today was going to be....THE BEST DAY EVER! I think we started our little food and drink excursion around 12:00 and by 6:00 that night, the sun was getting lower in the sky, we had a belly full of delicious food and hops, and armfuls of purchases we made at the vendor booths.  After evaluating our situation, we made the responsible, adult decision that we had too much to drink and could not drive.  So, what would anybody do in this situation...call a taxi?, probably, call our friend who is the Concierge at a swanky hotel downtown that is just a few blocks away to see if she can get us a room?...YES!!  After we made our reservation, we gathered our stuff and headed to the hotel.  Our friend, Tori, was waiting for us and greeted us at the door like we were the most important people in the room...needless to say we had a hard time keeping our tipsy selves together, but we pulled through and got the keys to what we like to call "The Rain Man Suite".  As we walked in we were in awe of how amazing our digs were for the night.  A bottle of wine chilling on the table, a stack of trashy tabloid magazines sitting on the bedside table (she knew me oh to well), and an amazing view of the city.  As we settled in we realized that even after eating all day we were starving.  We looked through the room service menu and decided it would just be easiest to call Tori and have her recommend a restaurant close by that we could walk to.  Not only did she recommend a place, she called and made us reservations at a Mediterranean restaurant a few blocks away, and had the hotel car waiting to drive us wherever we wanted to go.  Let me also tell you that the hotel we were staying at is one frequented by celebrities, musicians, athletes, etc. when they are in town, so when she made the reservation she told them she had two special people wanting to come in for dinner.  As we sat in the blacked-out Escalade on our way to the restaurant I realized I was having a little trouble focusing due to my many visits to the beer vendors at the Taste of Colorado.  So, taking a cue from the 80's hit made famous by Corey Hart, "I wore my sunglasses at night, so I can, so I can..keep track of the visions in my eyes." (You know you just sang that entire sentence to yourself).  I have never been one to wear small sunglasses, I lean more towards the big and dramatic that covers the majority of your face.  So, with sunglasses in place to cover the affects of our prior festivities, and my newsboy cap pulled down low I was ready to go!  As we pulled up to the front of the restaurant we realized that the manager was outside waiting for us.  Aaron looked at me, smiled, and gave me this look that said, "Follow my lead!" As we came to a stop he threw on his sunglasses and jumped out of the car. I would like to say the manager was startled by this, but it was like he expected a "bodyguard" to come out of the car first…...wait, they really think I am somebody famous!"As my husband explains to the manager that I would like to keep my visit to their restaurant quiet, the manager jumps into action, as I get ready to put on the best show possible!  Both my "bodyguard" and the manager escort me into the restaurant to a table they have set up in a back room that is not being used.  The manager tries to speak to me, but I simply turn my head and instruct my "bodyguard" to speak for me. Ha, this was going to be fun.  After a couple of minutes the head chef approaches our table and explains to Aaron that he would like to prepare a meal for me that was not on the menu.  Ha ha, yeah that really happned.  Our server eventually made his way over to our table, and he had this smile on his face like he just won the server lottery!  That guy did everything he could to try to look at me straight on, but with my sunglasses and hat it was almost impossible to really see who I was...oh and my amazing acting skills! :)  Aaron finally instructed our server to pair a bottle of wine with what the chef was whipping up.  Eventually it was just us two at the table smirking at each other knowing no one was going to believe this story, but we weren't alone for long.  Even being tucked in this back room all alone I think every server, bartender, and cook made their way back to where we were to try and get a peep at the "celebrity" in their restaurant.  On the outside I kept a straight face, hidden from peering eyes, but on the inside I was cracking up...."is this really happening right now?" After about 20 minutes the chef delivered what looked to be the most delicious meal I would ever devour, but then the smell hit me. TRUFFLES!! My relationship with truffles is like that over protective, jealous boyfriend or girlfriend that refused to leave your side, smothering you with their cigarette breath and evil glares.  The smell, the taste, it just stays with me not allowing me to enjoy other foods even days later...I literally just gagged a little thinking about it.  Anyways, my husband, he knew my distaste for that disgusting little fungus, and saw me turn green.  As I excused myself to go to the bathroom, the chef returned begging for approval of his masterpiece.  My "bodyguard" broke it to him gently that I was not a fan of truffles, and he immediately became flustered.  He could not let my visit to his restaurant be a bad one, so he had a plan to save the night!  I returned feeling a little tipsier then when we walked in, no thanks to the amazing bottle of wine the server brought to our table.  After a few minutes, the chef returned, still making every effort to get a peep at my face, with the most amazing dessert spread ever.  As we enjoyed some homemade smores, the manager delivered a card that was signed by all of the staff as well as our well over $200 tab that had been comped.  I was in shock!  And I can only assume the sever was when he picked up that check after we left to find that we had tipped him 100% of the original bill amount. Hey, I was in the restaurant industry at the time and they took care of me, so I was going to take care of them!  Feeling like I could walk on water, I was ready to get out of there and take off my "celebrity mask".  Exiting the building was just as thrilling, as the manager and my "bodyguard" made a barrier around me, blocking me from the peering eyes of others and we jumped into that Escalade and took off.  Sitting back in the seat, my husband and I were dying laughing, trying to take in what just happened! I will have to say it was one of the most exciting things that have ever happened to me, and to this day it still sounds as unbelievable as I type it for you all to read.  So, we couldn't end the night there.....of course not.  Instead we ended the night in perfect "celebrity" style....went dancing, drank a little more, and then christened that Rain Man Suite with that lovely chefs beautiful dessert spread!  It was an epic night, I must say.  The next morning as we came to, we discussed the happenings of the day before and laughed until our ribs hurt.  Don't let me forget the loot that we discovered we had purchased at the Taste of Colorado....3, yes 3, charactures of Aaron and I....a bag of kitty litter ( I know right)....numerous dips and sauces....the list goes on and on.  A short time later as we poured ourselves into our car, we headed home knowing we just had an experience that neither of us will ever forget, and most will never believe. BEST DAY EVER!

Looking back on this crazy night from where I am now I realize there was a time where people looked at me, noticed me, and I was ok with that. Things have happened in the past year, which I will get to eventually, that have made me at times want to hide from the outside and hate that I was being noticed or looked at.  I would give anything to get back to that crazy girl, who pulled of being famous and laughed until her ribs hurt. Someday I will, I just know it....I see glimpses of that person coming through every single day, and with my "bodyguard" by my side cheering me on, as well as some of the most amazing friends and family I will be wearing my sunglasses at night in no time!

Is this love, or is that the Vicodin kicking in?

My husband Aaron (I debated calling him Frank or something to help him save face a wee bit, but anyone who will probably read this knows us so what's the point) and I have spent a large amount of our 8 wonderful years together in and out of emergency rooms, operating rooms, doctor's offices, specialist's offices, and even dabbled in a bit of Eastern medicine.  So much so that I debated writing a tell all book about us called "Love in a Hospital", but decided a blog will have to do.  Even our first month as a couple was not saved from the chaos that we have come to know as our life together. I will give you a little glimpse into our small window of time that was not chaotic, and then toss you into  our reality. We started dating on December 5th, 2005 and became an "official couple" a couple weeks later.  Christmas was approaching and  I hadn't met his family yet, minus one happy little encounter with his sister at Olive Garden ( Abby if you are reading this you know what I am talking about), so Aaron asked me to come over Christmas Eve and meet the Ellis's. I had plans to leave early the next day for Breckenridge to spend a couple of days playing in the snow and being a crazy 23 year old, but gave in and anxiously headed over to his house for a little family introduction.  When I walked in I was greeted by his younger brother Austin walking around in his boxers carrying a wine glass that he immediately handed over to me and filled it as full as he could.  I think he knew filling me full of wine was the only remedy for the situation I had found myself in.   Aaron then introduced me to his mom, who was very sweet, but very hesitant to trust this little blond girl her first born had brought into her house.  His dad was peeling a bag of oranges at the table, (to this day I really don't know why he was peeling a whole bag of oranges), and his sister and her fiancé were in the family room watching Home Alone ready to pounce on the fresh meat his brother decided worthy to meet the family.  It was a little awkward at first, as all first encounters tend to be, but soon relaxed when the idea of playing a little game called "Dirty Deuces" was thrown out, so we all sat down and put our game faces on.  Long story short, a couple of bottles of wine later (thanks Austin), calling out his mom when I beat her in the game, and dropping my phone in their toilet, I was now introduced to the family.  Christmas morning I woke up super early to try and avoid the "walk of shame" in front of his family (don't worry it was completely innocent I was just too many bottles of wine in to drive, so I slept over), but unfortunately those Ellis's are early Christmas morning risers. :/  After I got past my morning embarrassment I got my stuff together and headed to Breckenridge to have a little fun.  The first day I just spent relaxing and hanging out with friends, but the second day is where I found myself in a little bit of a pickle.  The day started with a little Mexican feast, and continued with bar hopping through Breckenridge right into Copper Mountain.  As it started to get dark, god only knows what the actual time was, I found myself in a vodka bar having a hell of a time.  Directly across from the bar was an outdoor ice skating rink, and what would any intoxicated person do after spotting that ice skating rink you ask?  That is right, recruit a couple of friends and walk their happy asses over and throw on some skates!  After a long battle with the laces on my skates my friend and I walked onto the ice with more confidence than a fat guy in a pie eating contest, ready to do a few triple axles or maybe a back flip or two! Unfortunately, that plan was shot down not even 30 seconds later as my friend started to fall pulling me down with him.  As I fell I felt this sharp pain in my leg, but it was immediately masked by the affects of vodka and bad assery. (Is that a word?) I tried to get up thinking I just tweaked my leg a bit, but as soon as I tried to stand I knew something was wrong.  My friends, being entirely too intoxicated to care, told me to suck it up and keep skating, but it just wasn't going to happen.  As I army crawled off the ice I now knew why they had me sign a waiver when I walked in the building.  It took some time, but I was eventually able to pull my skate off and see the baseball sized mass on the side of my ankle.  After evaluating my injury and making a feeble attempt at calling Aaron to tell him what I had done convincing him he did not need to drive up that night and get me, I forced on my boots and zombie walked my way back to the bar where the rest of the group was.  They took one look at my leg and decided the only remedy was pumping me full of more alcohol,  and then taking me back to the house and putting me to bed.  The next morning after I woke up from my drunken stupor I realized my mass had turned into what I could only imagine a cadaver leg would look like, black and blue rearing its ugly head up my leg that was now three times the size of the other. I knew I needed to get back to Littleton ASAP. Unfortunately, Colorado weather is so unpredictable and I was now stuck in Breckenridge due to a massive snow storm that had moved in over night rendering me unable to get to a hospital.  Two days and a dozen bags of frozen peas later, I was back in Littleton in the ER with Aaron.  I was convinced it was just sprained, but the doctor came back and I had a spiral fracture up my fibula.  I think I was in shock..... How was I going to manage the stairs at my house? Who was going to help me while I recovered? More important, How  would I pay my bills since I could not work for two months, I had a small break down as the doctor instructed me to roll over and bite the pillow so he could reposition my hanging limb.  But, this 25 year old guy who I had known for three weeks jumped up and said you are coming home with me and I will take care of you. He wasn't freaked out by the chaos, or the idea of taking care of this little girl he just met, he was ready to see this through with me.  I was a little hesitant due to the fact that he still lived with his parents and they barely knew me, but I took a leap of faith and from that day on he became my little candy striper (with a ton of help from his entire family). Over the next few weeks I spent my time on the couch in his parent's family room in a Vicodin haze watching old westerns with his dad, gaining a second little sister, and falling in love with this crazy guy who decided I was worth it.  From the very beginning Aaron and I's relationship was real. No pretending to be something we weren't to impress the other, no wineing and dining, just 100% reality no matter what that looked like because we had no choice. He saw me at my lowest, my ugliest, my whiniest, and never faltered.  Most guys would have ran for the hills, but Aaron was different. He held my hand through every doctor's appointment,  rushed me to the ER when they thought I had a blood clot in my leg, made sure I stayed up on my meds,  cooked my meals even if that meant ordering take-out, and pumped me full of laxatives when the codeine had taken its toll on my body.  Not many can say that a month into dating, their boyfriends carried them to the bathroom, sat outside of the door until they were done, and then carried them back to bed. Ain't nobody got time for that! It didn't take long for that Vicodin haze to wear off, and when it did I realized that I loved this person in such a different way than I have ever loved anything else in my life, and lucky for me he had the butterflies in his stomach too.  I eventually recovered, but I never left that metaphorical couch in the family room. I was in it for the long haul, and I knew that if we could get through this at the beginning of our relationship, we could conquer the tallest mountain.  At that point neither of us knew that this was only the beginning of our crazy roller coaster of a ride, but for now we were just  happy to be together, in the moment dealing with whatever came our way. 

Pull up a chair and pour yourself a drink....

So, I have debated starting a blog for a very long time wondering, "does anyone really want to read about my crazy life?", and if so "will anyone believe this stuff has actually happened?".  As you can see, I have given up on caring about all of that and decided to move forward with what I will call "my own personal therapy", or "complete exposure by spilling my guts to an inanimate object that records my every thought by punching little buttons with letters on them"......"my own personal therapy" was shorter so lets stick with that! My goal for this blog is to let people into mine and my husband's beautiful disaster, going back 8 years to the day we met and giving you a glimpse into what has been thrown at us from the day we met up until the present,and hopefully continue to write about our going ons in the future. Some of our stories are hilarious and quite unbelievable, while others may require a tissue and some strong whiskey.  I hope you take some time to go on this ride into my past with me, as well as buying a ticket for the upcoming show!  I promise it will be entertaining!