Well, it’s been awhile since I have written here. Needless to say, a lot has happened to me and the world since 2017. I’m not sure I recognize this past version of myself who dabbled on the blog, but the attempts to write in a creative outlet were earnest.
Fast forward eight years, tack on another last name, and my life is radically different. In that time, I have changed career paths twice. I married my husband in 2021 amid the COVID chaos. In January 2022, I caught the Omicron strain of COVID and did not get better. What turned into pneumonia became long-haul COVID. I started physical therapy a few weeks later and was in treatment when the long-haul COVID designation was added to the medical charts. I had to learn how to walk again and stand safely on my own due to racing heart. This became more complicated, when I discovered the day prior to starting physical therapy that I was pregnant.
I was a pregnant long-hauler who had a complicated pregnancy, prolonged labor and difficult postpartum recovery. I wanted to be a super mom and pushed through – I was breastfeeding for 15 months, pumping, working full-time, commuting, cooking, taking care of the household and solo parenting on weekends while my husband worked seven days a week. If you’re tried reading all that, I was beyond tired living it.
In early 2024, I contracted norovirus and had subsequent GI illnesses, one of which doctors suspected was another strain of COVID. My health plummeted rapidly. I kept getting sick. I was experiencing more racing heart episodes and dizziness. My inability to sit or focus for more than 20 minutes was causing my body to crash. I went to my doctor on a Monday at the end of July having read a story about long-haul COVID and POTS, wondering if that’s what was plaguing me. I finally found a healthcare provider who was affirming and agreed what I was feeling was more than “just having a child in daycare,” which was what I had been hearing at other appointments. “It’s like you got sick three years ago and never got better,” she said.
She told me to stop work immediately. I did not. By Thursday, I was in the ER and returned a week later with crippling dizziness, nausea and GI issues. I tested positive for E.coli and norovirus. I would have chronic norovirus for almost a year.
Work ended, and it was soon replaced with physical therapy, doctor appointments and endless calls to file disability paperwork. My days were mostly horizontal, dizzy and terrifying, especially as my beautiful and bouncy toddler wanted her mama. I regained my strength through hard work, determination and incredible medical team. I was approved to go to Mayo Clinic for testing for POTS (postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome), which had an undisclosed waitlist.
The journey has been a rollercoaster of ups and downs. Really good days were followed by big crashes. It felt unpredictable to navigate as well as extremely isolating. Today, I am in a much better place with more to share, but there is still so much healing and processing ahead. I have spent the last few weeks at Mayo Clinic and doing virtual appointments with a diagnosis in hand. I feel better knowing what I experienced is real and continue to receive compassionate care.
Writing and sharing my story has been helpful for my healing, and I plan to continue to do so here. I’m not sure where it will lead me, but I’m putting faith and trust in the center of my life right now. Everything I have been through has led me here. The pain of the last three years is entangled with some of the most beautiful family moments of motherhood and partnership. My life feels rich and precious even while it’s limited. This feels like a beginning more than an end. I cannot wait to continue sharing my journey.