The Baby's Foot

Let me begin with an apology. This post may involve too much information (one of my Dad's favorite things to say to my Mom, "T.M.I. Vicki, T.M.I.!"). Sometimes disclosure just makes the point more clear. So, here goes, honesty & vulnerability...

I don't understand healing. I don't understand why some people pray and are healed and some are not. How does God pick and choose? Why not everyone? I don't believe that healing is associated with any amount of faith. I hate that a lack of healing is associated with a lack of faith. I don't understand how some people experience healing for only a limited amount of time. And, I don't understand how God can promise me healing and my body not act like it's healed.

I've had "female" issues for as long as I've been considered a woman. I've struggled with having regular periods and was put on birth control to regulate them when I was 14. I lasted on and off birth control until I switched doctors, about 3 years ago. My time spent off birth control revealed I was unable to have periods on my own. A scary truth for a woman. My new doctor finally decided to explore the reason why I wasn't about to ovulate regularly. Through a series of tests, blood-work, ultrasounds, and exams my doctor discovered that I had Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS). Due to several factors, my ovaries had cysts that caused severe pain and swelling. Nothing could be done to treat the cysts because they were not large enough for surgery. Funny sidenote. We've actually nicknamed my cysts, "the baby's foot" because the referred pain & swelling in my lower abdomen protruded and felt like a baby's foot to the touch! Anyway...

My blood-work revealed that my insulin levels & hormone levels were off. I was then referred to an endocrinologist that put me on a medicine, Metformin, to regulate my insulin levels so that my body would quit producing large quantities of glucose and odd levels of testosterone and progesterone. The new medicine was even supposed to help me have periods on my own. There was no need to be on birth control anymore. I stayed on the other medicine until January 2010. The other symptoms seemed to be less severe and I was regular. At the beginning of January, though, I had such severe cysts on my ovaries that I decided to stop taking Metformin.

Let's rewind a bit. I don't know the specific time, but throughout this whole fiasco I prayed that God would heal my body and that I would have regular periods, on my own. Not too much to ask, right? In January, my Mom really believe God said that I was healed so we decided that I should stop taking the meds to prove this. Guess what? I continued to have periods monthly! Like clockwork. However, the painful cysts still continued. Last August, I re-visited my doctor to evaluate the cysts. He ran more tests, blood-work, ultrasounds...yada yada yada. Nothing else was found so he gave me the option to take birth control, metformin, or continue without medication. I chose to be medicine free.

In October, I attended Chi Alpha's annual statewide Fall Breakaway. During Sunday morning worship, I began to ask God to heal my PCOS and my painful cysts. I immediately felt pressure, like a huge hand pushing on my right side where the "baby's foot" normally protrudes. Then a warm sensation. And I believe that God spoke to me that I was healed in this moment.

The baby's foot disappeared completely. Until December, and then my periods also disappeared. The months continued to pass, period free. In April, I read a book about treating PCOS with an insulin resistant diet that involves eating low-glycemic indexed foods. I began to change the way I ate and surprisingly, the "baby's foot" and my period reappeared in June! Two weeks ago, I went back to my doctor for my annual and explained everything to him expecting him to tell me to get back on some form of medication. He looked in my chart a few different times. Then he read of my ultrasound results, twice. He told me he could no longer diagnose me with PCOS. Looking at my current blood-work and ultrasound, there are no more cysts on my ovaries.

At first, I was a tad agitated. How could he no longer diagnose me with PCOS? Did he mis-diagnose me before? So, I asked several questions and throughout the rest of the appointment he explained that what was wrong with me before is no longer an issue. After letting that soak in, I'd say that's the definition of healed, right?

Even though I no longer have PCOS, my doctor believes I am still insulin resistant which leads to decreased ovulation. On top of that, he believes that I ovulate bi-monthly. Continuing to eat differently will decrease my insulin resistance and increase my ability to ovulate!

This whole healing thing has been hard. I've felt abandoned by God in this 10 year health battle. I've felt like He hasn't taken care of my physical needs. I've felt like He promised me something He would never make good on. I've even felt stupid telling people that He healed me when my body was acting completely unhealed--irregular and full of painful cysts. Funny thing is, God can't look stupid. And He always makes good on his promises. Sometimes His fulfillment just looks different than how we pictured it. Sometimes His time-frame is different from our own. Sometimes we don't understand His great idea. Sometimes He's just looking for us to trust Him, no matter what. Hindsight is 20/20.

"We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of his son." Romans 8:28-29

My new prayer, "God, please heal my insulin resistance & help my body to ovulate how it normally should. Thanks again for healing me. Amen."

The Next Step

I'm officially moved back into my parents home. Never thought I'd say that. But, yes, what little I still own is unpacked in its respective places in my old bedroom. I've even requested a USPS change of mailing address form. Yesterday, I was welcomed back "home" to Luling by my new spin instructor who is, by the way, 8 months pregnant! I literally cried the entire drive home. Four hours and 45 minutes. Sometimes I sobbed. Sometimes my eyes just leaked. Sometimes my body shook. I could only scrounge up 2 napkins in my Dad's Suburban to last the entire drive home. I used them sparingly. It all hit me. This is the next step. It's what I've been anticipating. It's the means to an end. Yet, it's also the close of a HUGE chapter in my life. Ruston was my first home. It was the first & only place I've lived since moving out of my parents house. It's where I've created my life. It's where I found my faith, what I believe in. It's where I began countless friendships. It's where I made a lot of stupid decisions and mistakes. It's also where I've made huge successes and triumphs. It's where I tried to find love. It's where I found out how to love. It's where I learned the majority of what I know. It's where I began my career. It's where I found my innate need for adventures. Ruston is where I found me, who I know me to be today. Not to sound overly dramatic, but I drove away early Saturday morning not looking back. Not because I thought God was going to turn me into a pillar of salt, like Lot's wife. I couldn't keep my eyes off the sky in front of me. There was this incredible sunrise cloud-parting thing happening in the sky. It was as if the golden sun was peek-a-booing out of the pinky-bluish clouds & the rays showed all around the edges of the clouds. The sky led me all the way from my apartment to the interstate. It was God's "good morning" to me on what turned out to be a really hard day. (Thanks again, God, for the beautiful surprise!) Leaving Ruston was definitely harder than I expected. That's the thing about expectations. They rarely ever get met to exact specifications. Sometimes it's an overshot. Sometimes you miss it by a mile. Sometimes you just ding the rim of the target. My life is turning out to be nothing like I expected. I think that's why the next step was so difficult emotionally. I never expected to be in Ruston 2 years-post college graduation. I never expected to sell my entire life's worth of stuff--things I planned to have in my future home, with my future hottie husband & my future crazy clan of children. I never expected to be almost (21 days exactly!) 25, single & moving to Zambia to work with malnourished babies. The next step kind of ruins all my expectations and plans. But that is the thing. I wouldn't choose to do anything else. I wouldn't even choose to have my previous expectations met, at this moment. Because I know I wouldn't be fulfilled or excited or 100% at peace with my life. So I guess, I'm waiting on the next step. I have no expectations of how the next 3 weeks of my life are going to go. I don't really know how to spend time saying "see you in 10 months" to my family and friends. At this point, I don't even know what to expect in Zambia. I guess the saying is true, lower your expectations and they'll always be met, maybe even exceeded. Or, maybe a better saying is expect the unexpected. I'm praying the unexpected exceeds my expectations.