Dear Blood Clot,

I began calling you the evil clot that tried to kill me.

The further away I get, I’m beginning to see that maybe it was exactly what I needed.

I had been in denial for nine months of how sick I was. Forcing myself to camp, sit by a lake with friends, a puke bag in my lap. I hosted my Minnesota best friends along with their little babies in my home, something that to introverts chagrin, finally filled my tank. Attending a social distanced rodeo, we returned home to my home IV pump and Phenergan, the one medication that helped  weaken the nausea.

Showing up to Dig Deeper every week, a community of women who have become like family to me, we would do Oil (praises of the week) and Vinegar (challenges). Not able to attend the majority of the pregnancy, in the last few weeks I was tried to join.

“Vinegar- same as last week, I’m still nauseous.” sometimes breaking down in tears, them rubbing my head with lavender oil.

I remember telling Emily that we should wear our matching hats. Putting it on I felt finally put together, only to have to remove it half way there because it caused my nausea to worsen.

Any type of long-term illness is hard. You don’t want to keep answering the same way when people ask how you are doing. The first few months I would be honest, “I am so nauseous!” their faces dropping in what looked like disappointment.

Towards the end, still sick, I gave up answering honestly. “I’m making it!”

But was I really making it? I can say I MADE it. But what exactly was I trying to prove in the midst of my pain?

It wasn’t even the Gestational Diabetes, the forcing to not eat carbs even though that was my ‘safe’ food, it took a life-threatening blood clot to make me realize how bad HG truly is for us unlucky 1%.

Not only did it wake me up to the true trauma of HG, with the loss of so much blood, it FORCED me into bedrest.

My coworkers would likely attest, it is near impossible to make me stop. The first few months I managed to still close the books each month, laying horizontally in my dark room, apologizing to my team that I couldn’t do better.

When I was finally able to  get back to work fulltime, I took on new projects, made improvements to reports, did my best to be the best employee I could possibly be.

“You’re taking at least a full 3-months right?” my coworkers would ask. Something I had ironically helped implement for our employees to have.

“Oh I feel too bad, I’ve already had to take some time off,” I would reply. Fully intending to jump right back in.

Required Bed Rest. That sounds so easy but when you have a newborn and THINGS TO BE DONE after 9 months of nausea, it proves near impossible. Thanks to the bloodclot, lack of blood supply in our country and the near fainting spells from simply walking to the bathroom, I have finally been FORCED to slow down. To stare at my baby. At her long delicate fingers. To write, listen to music and read.

So thank you dear blood clot, I will begin calling you my healing clot from now on.

Your Friend,


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