Brittany’s “Perfect” Life Falls Apart
The clues began to appear in 2002. God allowed some significant pain to enter my life and all these years later, I am incredibly grateful. As is the case, our pain leads to our purpose, passion, and platform. I believe that with all my heart.
What happened in 2002? My "perfect" life was falling apart. You see, I'd relentlessly tried to do it all on my own. I had a beautiful checklist and I'd checked all the boxes. Graduate from high school. Start a serious relationship. Attend college. Work in college. Graduate from college in four years. Get married. Get a job. Build a home. Begin trying to have children. That was what I accomplished in just six years. And, then pregnancy didn't happen. I didn't understand. I found out I had PCOS (poly-cystic ovaries). How could this be?
Infertility treatments began first with my regular gynecologist. We tried some medication to stimulate egg release. It didn't work. I was referred to an infertility specialist. My first husband and I were not connecting at all on this, but we were "living the dream" and moving forward and checking the boxes. Except this box wasn't budging. Three failed IUIs felt like a terrible nightmare. But that, in fact, was just the start.
One day at work, I started feeling not so good. I was a first grade teacher at the time. I had eaten in the cafeteria with my students (corn dog and macaroni and cheese) and thought I was having indigestion. It was NOT indigestion. I asked my coworker for a tums and when that didn't work, she said that I didn't look good and suggested that I go see the elementary nurse. The nurse listened to my heart rate and it was clear she was alarmed. From there, it was recommended that I go to the small town hospital. An EKG was performed and I was told at age 25, I'd had a heart attack. Again, it felt like a terrible nightmare. There was more, much more to come.
The next day, we saw a cardiologist in San Antonio. He did several tests, including an echo of my heart and sent me home with a few monitors. A few days later, he was a little miffed and told me that I had a myxoma and he wasn't sure what to do. He sent me home with nitroglycerin pills (for the shortness of breath/chest pains) and thought maybe a specialist in Houston could help.
I returned to Junction, my small hometown, and resumed teaching first grade and driving twice a week to San Angelo University as I was working on my MEd in School Counseling. I was using the nitro pills as needed. (Yes, that is crazy!)
Two weeks later, I was able to get into my father-in-law's cardiologist because he called the office concerned about his daughter-in-law. They saw me on a Friday afternoon and did a TEE (transesophageal echocardiogram) and determined I had a large blood clot that had calcified in the pulmonary valve in the heart (on it's way to the lungs).
PAUSE. The fact that this large blood clot stopped and calcified is a miracle. If it had not stopped it would have gone to my lungs and I would have died instantly.
When I woke from the TEE, Dr. Sanderson told me I'd never look the same in a bikini again. I had no idea what he was talking about, but soon discovered that he was telling me I was going to have open heart surgery; which meant a big scar down the middle of my chest. Needless to say, I was very much taken back and since then, my life has never been the same.
