Our Sweet Maggie

Back in the fall our Maggie Mae developed an unusual cough.  We didn't think much of it and did't see the need to spend hundreds on invasive testing.  We put her on a cough suppressant that seemed to help.

We noticed she began to lose weight and feel very skinny to touch.  Other than that she was our usual  Maggie.

In February I was giving her a bath and tears started streaming down my face.  She was a skeleton. She had lost a lot of body mass and while she was still eating, her weight never came back on.  Back to the doctor we went and had x-rays done to ultimately tell us to see a specialist.  

We were told there was fluid on her chest and abdomen, and that her heart had a funny sound to it.  

At the veterinary emergency hospital they told us that Mae Mae was very sick.  They were able to successfully drain the excess fluid but she would need to stay over night for observation.  It was so hard to leave her there! The next afternoon Maggie came home with several prescriptions that would hopefully stop the fluid and the protein loss she was experiencing.

It didn't.  Maggie behaved just fine and did all the normal things she would usually do.  However, two weeks later she had a fluid sack on her chest again.

The ER vet drained her again and we brought her back home. We were also told that if the meds didn't help she may have stomach cancer. 

The medicines just were not working over a month into taking them. 

I told Travis that if she were not acting so lively and eating normally, our decision of rather or not it was her time would be easier. 

I have had that sweet pup since I was 23.  She has seen me through lonely times, moving multiple times, meeting Travis and getting married, bringing two babies home from the hospital, and all the while she remained my ever faithful companion. 

Suggie calls Maggie the Golden Child because she can do no wrong. 

On a Monday morning in March the kids and I (and Maggie) were in our schoolroom doing that day's assignments.  Lucy Mills sat on the floor next to Maggie and said "Mama, Maggie has a different look in her eyes.  I've never seen her eyes make that look." Sure enough, where Maggie's eyes had always appeared so lively, now they looked tired and dark.  The fluid was back filling her chest and she refused to lie down.  I think it was just too uncomfortable for her to do so.  

At CBS (our weekly Bible study) about a month prior, a girl in my group just happened to mention the name of a vet who would come to your house to help in the end. 

Maggie hated going to the doctor and I could not bear to even load her in the car one last time. 

I called the phone number I had stored away and the kindest voice walked me through her advice.  Oh, and she just happened to also work at the emergency vet where I previously had taken Maggie.  So Dr. Katie had complete access to review her file. 

The hardest part was making the decision that Monday, March 6th would be our last day with our Mae Mae.  Dr. Katie was scheduled to come that afternoon at 5pm.  The hours leading up to 5 were brutal but I am so thankful for our time with Maggie.  We were able to soak up the remaining hours with her. 

Let me back up a minute.  Before I even took Maggie to see the specialist, I was picking her up from her regular vet's office one afternoon and a woman was in front of me in line at the receptionist's desk.  I noticed she was bawling and quickly realized that she was there to put her dog to sleep. 

Tears spilled out of my eyes too and I begged God for just a little more time with Maggie.  My heart just wasn't ready yet. 

He gave me more time. 

But when the Monday came and Dr. Katie arrived at our house, Maggie sat up and greeted her, tail wagging and all.  However, she was so frail and winced if you pet her. 

I sent the children to play at the neighbor's house, and held on to my sweet Maggie Mae one last time.  Travis fed her her favorite treat of peanut butter as she peacefully drifted off to sleep. 

I couldn't have made it through that day without my mom and Travis there.  

Travis carefully buried her in our backyard.

When they kids got home of course they were heartbroken.  Lucy Mills wrote a note and placed it at Maggie's grave. McClain walked around the yard and cried. 

The house has a different feel to it when someone is missing.  The next morning Lucy Mills went to sit at Maggie's grave.  I could see she was talking but could not hear her words.  She later told me that she just talked to Maggie about heaven, and told her she loved her, and asked her to lead us to the next puppy that was for us.



The next day I picked the kids up from Excelsior and Daddy met us for a celebratory smoothie in honor of our Maggie.  We agreed she would not want us to be sad. But man she is missed!



I love this picture of her on the beach with us.  It's at our happy place with our guardian angel looking over at us.


Mae Mae, you were the best! 

The Valley We Didn't See Coming

In the spring of 2016,  we learned something that rocked our family to the core.  I want to write about it because it's a part of our story and I can already see the testimony that our buddy McClain will have after this chapter of his life.

For the past two soccer seasons that our kiddos were a part of, Travis and I noticed a difference in how McClain responds to physical activity.  Sports wise, Lucy Mills is fast, competitive, and doesn't quit.  McClain seemed to lose steam easy, want take breaks, and even sit down on his knees during the games. 

While it wasn't a huge alarm for us, it was an observation that I believe God opened our eyes to see.  Perhaps sports just weren't McClain's thing?  Travis and I went down the rabbit trails of possibilities...could he have low blood sugar? Early signs of diabetes? Exercise induced asthma? Or just a plain lack of interest in athletics? A trip to our pediatrician showed no signs for alarm.  He gave McClain a clean bill of health, but said just to rule out anything lets make an appointment with a pediatric cardiologist.  It would put our minds at ease.  

The next few weeks went along like normal and McClain appeared to be a completely healthy, normal, active five year old boy.  In fact the Monday of his cardiology appointment I felt silly even taking him in.  After waiting hours at the office, and going through rounds of tests, including a 20 minute heart ultrasound where my wiggly boy couldn't move a muscle, I sat with both children in the cramped doctor's office waiting on what I was sure was absolutely no news. 

When he finally did come in, the doctor looked me square in the eyes and said "well, we found something." My heart sank. 

 McClain was diagnosed with ARCA - Anomalous Right Coronary Artery.  The cardiologist spent time explaining what in the world that meant but I heard nothing.  Not a word.  I remember my own heart pounding as the reality set in that my son had a complicated heart condition.  I finally interrupted the doctor and kindly asked him to write the details down for me on the back of what was my grocery list.  There was no way I could remember what he was telling me, but I would leave that office and call Travis.  The kids and I gathered our things (they had been digging through my purse for gum and crayons and didn't comprehend the magnitude of what had just transpired) and headed through the hospital to make our way to the car.  I remember Lucy Mills asking why my eyes were red as I fumbled to put my sunglasses on while inside the building still.  I remember texting Travis pictures of what had originally been that day's grocery list.  I remember crying to my mom on the phone that I could handle it when it was my daughter's eyes that needed surgery to fix, or the veins in her nose that required her to be put to sleep to correct.  But this...my son having a heart condition that will require open heart surgery, and that could potentially be fatal, this was a valley I wasn't prepared to crawl through. 

After a huge debacle with the insurance company (thank Obamacare) Travis, McClain and I headed to Duke Hospital to see a specialist in pediatric cardiology.  

After CT's, MRI's, and a few other tests had been run, she confirmed what we had already been told.  The question now was when will have the surgery to correct the coronary artery?  And what do we do in the meantime?

The one perk of going to Duke for two days was getting to see these precious cousins. 

The doctor called my cell phone as we were heading home after a very long and exhausting two days of appointments.  She said that after the results of the MRI she would now recommend doing surgery sooner than later. I cried the whole way home.  She said a team of doctors at Duke would be meeting in the next month to review McClain's file.  Since this is a condition more typically found in teenagers and older individuals, the timing of when to do open heart surgery on children is split.  Surgery can increase risks and introduce infection. A (very long) month later she called that their advice was to hold off on surgery for now, monitor his activity, and have a stress test performed. That felt like a short term victory. 

In June we headed back to Duke for his stress test.

He handled it like a champ.  The results were his heart could handle physical activity for now and he could live life just as he had been doing.  Praise the Lord.  McClain had already been self-limiting his activity and he seems to know when he is tired and needs a break.

And when you have a heart condition and are poked and prodded at every appointment, you mom and dad take you to the Lego store and let you pick out whatever you like.

The remainder of the year was such a blessing.  Despite the reality that McClain will need surgery at some point, he has been able for now to do the things he loves. 

My sweet group of friends rallied around our family and even met one night for a prayer time for McClain.  They cried with me, encouraged me, and prayed over my family and me.  In the midst of heartache, God pours out His blessings and we have seen that over and over again. 

When McClain was first diagnosed I got used to a lot of sleepless nights. One night in particular I was awake and praying.  "God, why? Why would you allow this to happen to my McClain? He is the (littlest) love of my life." I felt like the Lord of the universe spoke gently to my heart and said "Lil, I want to be the love of your life." I have been reminded again that these children are not mine, they are His.  This reality has made me find more joy in our days together.

So here we are, one year later and thankful for the year that we have had. 

In two weeks we go to MUSC for more testing to see what his heart looks like now. 

This boy.  His heart loves perfectly I know that.