The Cruise Ship that was on Fire

Last week I went on an Alaskan cruise with my mom that was on FIRE...Literally, and figuratively.  

You possibly heard of the cruise ship that caught on fire through different news sources, such as ABC News.  According to a few of my friends and other outside sources, our ship made national news!

After an hour or two of leaving Seattle, our captain of the Westerdam ship (Holland America cruise line) came on over the ship's speakers and told us there had been a fire in the boiler room.  Actually, by the end of it, there were two fires.  This caused us to make a return to Seattle so that inspections and any needed repairs could be made.  We didn't leave port again until Sunday afternoon.

Due to the delay of our second attempt of leaving Seattle, there was no way we'd make all of our stops in Alaska.  The leaders of our ship decided to cut out our stop in Sitka, Alaska, and to continue on to all the other ports.  To make up for the delay and issues that came up, the ship offered a $250 room credit (not per person, just per room).  In addition, they also have given us all 25% off of what we spent on this last cruise towards the next cruise that we may take on their cruise line.   (I'd really like to take their cruise to Antarctica   But sadly, that one will probably be out of my budget for a very long time.)

On the bright side, had we not had
the fire and had to return to
Seattle, we would have missed this
beautiful view of the city.  

Although many were disappointed about not being able to go to Sitka (as that's why many people chose this specific cruise), everyone was really patient.  Other than voicing some of our disappointment, there really wasn't any complaining.  Everyone stayed impressively calm, kind, friendly, and chill about the whole situation.  We were all grateful that the captain decided to return to Seattle.  We all were in agreement that it was better to return and miss a port to potentially avoid any future problems during the trip.  In the end, I even think that Holland America has become one of my top cruise lines to travel with.

Ironically, before the cruise took off the first time - I made a post on my Facebook:

"Here is to a cruise where I won't...

• get sick.
• be hospitalized in a foreign country.
• have an Indonesian stalker.
• get stuck in a turn style.
• have a toilet attempt to strangle me.
• have a family member in the hospital.
• do a random gravity check, followed by getting covered in mud by a glacier.
• or get pooped on by a dolphin.

Haha...My cruising experiences are never dull. I'm fascinated to see what adventures will come my way for this one."

I'm thinking that next time I should add hypothetical situations too, since a fire wasn't originally on the list. ;-)  

And just in case anyone is wondering - I've been able to compile the list above throughout 7 different cruises, not just one or two.

I've had many people in the past tell me that they don't want to cruise - they're too afraid.  They're afraid of situations like this, where there is a fire...or situations like the Titanic.  Some just don't like the idea of being confined on a cruise ship, afraid they may feel too claustrophobic.  

Once the fire took place on the cruise I had well-travelled friends tell me, "This is the perfect example as to why I will never ever go on a cruise."

With this cruise being my 7th, I obviously enjoy cruising...But why??

I like to refer to cruising as the appetizer of traveling.  While cruising, you get a little taste of each port...Of each city, state, and/or country.  You get an idea on if you want to make a return visit, or if you're satisfied with the 5 hours your spent there while on a ship.  More often than not, I find myself thinking, "After this cruise I want to hop on the next plane to return here - and I want to stay for a month!"

Another reason I love cruising?  Usually when I travel, it's to do things to help other people - to do work, and not to rest.  I've been to Japan, but to do disaster relief work after their tsunami and to hold carnivals for children in hopes of getting the Good News in their hands.  I've travelled to Mexico, but to help build a house for those who own land - yet sleep on dirt floors and who have no locks to protect the little they have within their tarp walls.

Traveling to do things for others is fantastic.  I love being able to go and to become immersed in a local culture, tasting what they taste, seeing what they see, hearing their stories.  I wouldn't trade my years and miles of experiences for anything in this world - and I really hope I can continue to do trips like that.  They are some of the best experiences I've had in my life!! But with cruising?  It's one of the few ways in which I can see the world in a relaxed setting where I don't have to work, I don't have an obligations.  It's one of the few times when I travel where I get to focus on myself and rest.

People say they don't want to cruise because the ship may sink, have a fire, or get stuck in an ocean.  Yet, those same people fly on planes that can have engine problems, have fires, or crash.  They drive in cars that can have the same problems - driving on roads where often their fate are ultimately in the hands of other drivers, in the hands of strangers.  No matter where we go, how we get there, there are always going to be risks in whatever we do - whether we stay home, go for a drive, plane ride, or go cruising.  (Granted, I say all this, but I  have always refused to get on the back of a motorcycle - and my own father has one!)

This last cruise was fantastic and one of my favorites - even with the fire.

I saw Alaska.  I got out of California's blazing heat.  I went to a mushing camp where they keep beautiful husky puppies and train them.  I even went mushing on dry land and got to cuddle with a 6-week-old puppy.  We sailed through glacier bay, I tried a reindeer sandwich, chilled pear soup (YUM!), hung out on the ship's spa, ate fantastic food (which included the best macaroni and cheese I have ever had), toured the ship's brilliant kitchen, went to a towel folding and origami class, and saw some really cool shows presented by the talent living onboard.  We even watched dolphins, whales, and otters while sitting on our balcony (and when eating dinner in the dining room!).  

Glacier Bay.

Funny story: While looking out for whales on our balcony during the first few days, we had no luck...so what did I do?? I spoke whale. My mom thought I was being ridiculous, but within about 5 minutes we had orcas swimming right outside our room. Thank you Dori, from Finding Nemo, for that educational influence and inspiration in my life. I've always wanted to be trilingual, and I look forward to adding this to my resume! ;-)

It's also pretty cool to meet all the people that are on the ship.  One of the fun things about cruising  especially in a smaller group, they often ask you if you'd rather dine alone - or with another group.  When you do this, you never know who you're going to sit with.  I enjoyed my time with everyone we shared a meal with while learning about their lives, hearing their stories, dreams, and cruising adventures.

I met people who sold all that they own so they can live their retirement out of their RV while seeing all of America.  A few neighbors from a gated community near Malibu came cruising together, as one mentioned that they feel more like family than just neighbors.  Some honored their friend's dream of taking the Alaskan cruise - just a month after their friend's death.  I even met a guy from San Francisco who wants to start a show about Cosplays.  

I really wanted to take this
pup home!

The majority of the people I met were also Christian.  I can't even tell you how much encouragement I received from a few of them that I got to know throughout the week.  While trying to make a decision about my future, it felt as though I got the confirmation from a new friend of mine about the decision I've been struggling to make during a very in-depth conversation we had...all while relaxing in the hyropool.

While cruising, I met a man who has lived quite a life.  I loved hearing his stories.  While talking, I had the chance to tell him some of my life goals - especially about wanting to do a TED Talk from my experiences with my birthmark.  He told me something like, "Oh, I've done a TED Talk before.  I'm good friends with the people who started the TED Talk company."  After giving him one of my recently-made business cards, he told me he'd email me soon.  Once he emails me, he wants me to email him part of my story so he can forward it to his TED Talk friends, telling me, "You've already accomplished some of the key things when it comes to doing a TED Talk.  You seem to have a lot of confidence in yourself, and the strong passion to make a positive different out of everything you've gone through."  Maybe through this random connection I'll be able to do a TED Talk one day, maybe not.  Either way - I was inspired and encouraged by the man and my few conversations I held with him, and I think that's equally as important.

Other people I met?  I met some people who have taken 15 cruises (although, I heard of a couple on board who have taken 64 cruises).  I met a lady who recently became a step-grandmother to a beautiful young girl from Madagascar.  The grandmother told me, "My granddaughter is from Madagascar.  She's 15-years-old and just finished her first school year in America.  I wanted her to see more of the world, so I brought just her and I on this trip together."   One of the officers of the ship even ate at our dinner table with us as she encouraged me, "Keep traveling the world!"

This is the eagle one of the waiters
made me.  Cool, huh??

A few times I even used my origami skills that often go unused.  I was able to get to know a few of the ship's staff members as they watched me fold a paper tulip, and one man from Indonesia (one of the waiters) even made me an origami eagle in trade.  Oh!!...and as I was doodling in my journal one evening, an artist even took the time to show me a few tricks on how to draw better with a technic that was new to me.

By the end of the trip, I didn't want to leave the ship.  I felt like I made a lot of new, good friends and was enjoying their company.  I was enjoying the sights of Alaska and the tasty food on the ship.  I was feeling nice, relaxed, and had a great time.

Cruising isn't for everyone, and I know that.  However, I recommend that you try it at least once to find out if it's for you or not...You may be surprised!!  And if you need help with tips, advice, information, or with anything else - let me know!  I'd be happy to tell you all that I know from all my times of sailing the wide, open, sea!

Thanks for the great trip, Holland America!

The Travelin' Chick,
Crystal

PS: Isn't it nice that I've FINALLY written a blog about traveling again?  The first time in what seems like FOREVER.  Haha.  And side note...All these photos are either from my phone, or a basic camera, except the one of Seattle and this one:

Exchanging the Negative for the Positive

I'm finally starting to feel better from my surgery!
After a long 4 1/2 weeks, I'm almost feeling
100% back to normal!  Yay!  :-)
Thanks to all those who have been praying
for me, who have visited, for all the FB
messages, and for keeping me company!

Even though I posted a few days ago, I'd like to apologize for disappearing for over a month…But I promise I have a valid excuse for my temporary disappearance! ;-)

In my time away I had the last few weeks of school – which included two major projects and finals.  I also had an unexpected adventure that included an ambulance ride to the ER, hospitalization, pancreatitis, and emergency surgery to have my gallbladder removed!  It’s been a busy month, needless to say.

The cool thing is, I had a negative experience with a couple of the nurses while hospitalized.  I know that doesn’t sound “cool” – but I’ll get to that.  Here’s the story of my hospitalization, and why I think my bad experience was a positive one…in the end. 

For the last few months I’ve been struggling with on and off stomach problems.  I went to see a doctor who told me that my issues were more than likely related to a glutton allergy, and then she sent me home.

A few weeks later I had a friend coming to town.  This friend and I lived together as flat mates (aka: roommates) in London and I hadn’t seen her since my time in England…It had been two years!  I was excited about this reunion.

The day before she came, I was having intense stomach pains that I chose to ignore.  Then she came, and I felt mostly okay.

My friend had plans to leave on Monday morning around 9 or 10.  However, at 5:45 am on that Monday morning, I woke up with pain in the middle of my back and feeling nauseous.  I called an advice nurse who made an appointment for me at noon, and left a message at work letting them know I wouldn’t be there that day – all before 6:30.

Before I knew it, the pain was worse.  The pain was so intense I was doubled over and couldn’t straighten my back.  Although I have a high tolerance for pain, I found myself doing the ugly cry.  (Us girls especially know that ugly cry!!  But this ugly cry was definitely uglier than the “PS: I Love You movie ugly cry.)

I woke my mom up around 7:30, who then decided it was best to call for an ambulance.  By about 10:00 I was already diagnosed with the pancreatitis, stuck gallstones, and found my way out of the ER to a room in the hospital for an extended stay.

Here’s where the fun part of the story begins.

I had to wait a couple of days before the doctor could remove my gallbladder.  To have it removed, we had to get my pancreatitis under control…meaning I couldn’t eat or drink anything.  I was only allowed IV fluids.

By the time I was allowed to have surgery, I was feeling okay.  No more intense pain.  No more being doubled over.  No more ugly cry.

The day of the surgery, I decided to shower.  I knew if I didn’t shower then – it’d be a few days before I’d have a chance to shower again.  So, I went to my bathroom to do so.

As I’m undressing out of the hospital gown, my attending nurse flung my door open and entered the room without knocking, or asking if it was okay.

As quickly as possible I caught the gown before it hit the floor, trying to cover myself.  I told her, “Excuse me – I’m trying to get into the shower.”  She said, “Oh, don’t worry – it’s just me.”  Wanting a bit of privacy, and irritated by the unwelcomed intrusion on my preference of modesty, I told her, “I don’t care who you are...whether you’re my mother, or my nurse.  I like privacy.”  Ignoring what I told her, she continued entering my bathroom to do whatever she needed to do, as I stood there trying to stay modest. 

While I recognize she is use to seeing the human body in its natural form, I also know that I’m not use to being in these situations.  I’m not use to others seeing me undressed.  Being hospitalized is not something I do often, and I still craved a bit of dignity in that situation. 

Then, I had my surgery…and the fun continued…with the same nurse.

One of the possibly side affects of having anesthesia is having your bladder “go to sleep”.  While not everyone experiences this, and while I hadn’t experienced this before in previous surgeries, this time I did.

Once awake, I called my nurse in request to go to the bathroom.  She helped me up and I tried to relieve myself, but I couldn’t. 

About an hour or so later, I called my nurse again to request more help.  She came in and told me, “I’m helping another patient right now – I’ll be right back to help you.”  Totally understanding and with patience, I waited.

I waited so long for her to come and assist me that I fell asleep.  By the time I woke up, I was extremely uncomfortable, as I really need to use the restroom.  I was still on IV fluids this whole time – increasing the need to “go” – and I hadn’t gone to the bathroom since before having surgery  (which had been more than a few hours).

Calling her into my room, she finally helped me.  Yet, my bladder was still sleeping.

Due to the side affect of not being able to use the bathroom, they decided it was best to use a catheter until everything started working properly.

My nurse tried and tried to insert the catheter.  If you’ve ever had to get a catheter – you know that this is an uncomfortable experience, physically and mentally.  After about 10 minutes of her trying, I eventually told her, “You need to get someone else to do this.  I can’t do this anymore.  This isn’t working.”  Although I requested her to find help, she continued to try.  I told her again, “No.  I’m serious.  You have to stop and get help.”  Finally, she listened to my request.

When my nurse returned with help, the lady who came to help took one look at me, looked at my nurse, and exclaimed with attitude, “What is THAT on her face?!?”  I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes or something in reaction to her statement (Yay for pain meds??), as she then asked my nurse with persistent attitude, “Oh.  Is that something she’s had for a while??”

The lady talked about me, in front of me, but not to me.  She ignored the fact that I was there.  She ignored the fact, and forgot, I’m not just “something to look at” that is different.  She forgot that, although I am a patient, I’m also a human.  A person…A person who has feelings, who can hear her comments infused with attitude, and who could see the expression of her face during her reaction.

I know that it’s possible that she may of thought, “Maybe this is a reaction to medication or something else.”  That’s a reasonable possibility that I completely understand. However, the way she went about it was all wrong.  If she had that concern – she should have either asked me about it (kindly), or if she chose to ask the other nurse about it, she shouldn’t have done it in front of me in that shocking manner. 

As the assisting nurse started to help with the catheter, both she and my nurse started calling me by the name of “Carl”.  Thinking I must have misunderstood them the first time or two, I ignored it.  But by the fourth time of them using the name, I spoke up by saying, “Ummm…My name isn’t Carl.”  They replied in shock, “Oh, it’s not???”  I told them (again, remember, I’m on drugs, in a lot of pain, am frustrated, and am a little more blunt at this point), “No.  It’s not.  My name is Crystal.  That would be an ugly girl’s name.”  They told me, “What??  Crystal is a BEAUTIFUL girl’s name!”  Sarcastically I said, “No.  The name you’ve called me about four times – Carl – would be an ugly girl’s name.”

Once the catheter was in, I started to cry.  The whole thing was uncomfortable, I was in pain, and was miserable from surgery.  My nurse then told me, “It’s okay to cry.  I once got a shot and cried too.”

…What???  A catheter and shot are NOT nearly the same thing - at all.

During the rest of my time with that nurse, she would ask me, “What is your pain level?”  I’d tell her, “I’m at an eight right now.”  She would then say, “Oh, so you’re not in any pain?”  Or, another thing she would ask, “Do you want or need any pain medication?”  I would tell her, “Yes, I do.  I’m hurting really badly.”  She then would say, “Okay.  You don’t need any medication??”  I’d then explain, “No.  I do need pain medication!  I’m at an eight on the pain level scale.”

That nurse was an adventure…A frustrating adventure, but an adventure all the same – and a story to tell.

Before I get to the good, positive part, there is another story I need to explain.

Three weeks after surgery my doctor wanted me to have blood work done, making sure all my levels were okay and that the pancreatitis was completely gone.

Walking up to the check-in counter, the lady asked me for my medical record number and to see my ID.  Then she turned our conversation straight to my birthmark.

Instead of asking me about my day, or whatever, she asked me, “What kind of make up do you use to cover your hematoma??”  Mentally, I thought, “Hematoma??  It’s not a hematoma – but I’ll ignore that.”  I told her, “I use Cover Girl.”  She proceeded, “Oh, you should try using Bare Minerals!  It covers things like that really well.  I have a red spot on my nose, and you can’t even tell it’s red – can you??”  I then explained, “No thank you.  I don’t feel the need to hide my birthmark.  Even if it is a little frustrating at times, I figure it gives me a unique way to help and educate people – so why not embrace it?”  She replied, “That’s true.  I guess other people are more bothered by it than someone like you, who has it.”

I really don’t think the lady meant any harm in her statements and recommendation.  Her voice was 100% friendly and had no indication of attitude; unlike many other situations I’ve encountered.  Yet, I still felt bothered.

Going into the hospital to have lab work done, three weeks after surgery, I really don’t want to focus on my birthmark.  That’s not the intention of my visit.

I also did not ask for make up recommendations.  It’d be different if I had asked, “Your make up looks really good!  What brand do you use?” - but I didn’t.

There’s also the issue, especially in a hospital setting, of her assuming I had a hematoma.  In a sense, she was assuming a diagnosis for my birthmark being something different.  And had I tried the make up she mentioned, and had a reaction, the hospital is then liable due to their staff member’s advice.

And personally/mentally?  Her recommendation of changing make up interpreted in my head as, “Here – try this make up so you can hide your face.”…And that hurts.

Some people tell me, “She’s only trying to help”, or “She sees you wear makeup.  Maybe she thought you were trying to hide the birthmark.”  Both are valid thoughts, but my opinion?  There’s nothing to help…and in this day in age, I have a laptop, an iPhone, and I know how to use Wi-Fi access.  I’ve tried other make up.  Ican’t stand them, and choose not to use them for many reasons other than the discomfort and expensive cost of the special brands.  However, even if I hadn’t tried them yet, if I wanted another make up option, I know I can ask friends, go to Macy’s, or Google my options.

Besides, if a woman with curly hair walks up to her counter, does she tell them, “My dear girl – your hair is really curly!  I know of this GREAT hair straightener to help you straighten out that problem.”  She probably doesn’t.  That woman was born with her curly hair…It’s a part of who she is and maybe a part of her signature look – just like my birthmark is a part of me.

If these situations didn't happen on such a regular basis, I probably wouldn't have frustrated with this one…But these situations do start to wear me out, and it's not a good feeling when they happen as often as they do.  When people tell me this situation isn't really a "big deal", I often wonder if they would think and feel the same thing if they wore my shoes for a few days.

Also, in addition, moments like this make me wonder, “Why can’t strangers – whether they be hospital employees or the general public – talk to me about who I am as a person?  Why do they have to bring up the birthmark?  Why not just ask me how my day is going?  About my favorite hobby, or summer plans?  I’m a person – just like them…A person who has so much more depth than the color of her patch of purple skin.  Why do they forget that?”

Even though I don’t think she meant any harm, and overall I feel like I’m a confident person, my concern is – what if the next person this happens to isn’t??  What if they struggle 1,000 times more than I do??  How will it affect their already struggling confidence level?

When I walk into a hospital, I expect to feel safe when talking with hospital employees.  I should feel comfortable.  Employees in a hospital, or even dental setting, should expect “different” people to walk through the door…and while they can wonder if my facial difference is a hematoma or a reaction to medication, they shouldn’t assume that when they address it.  Instead, they should ask, “Is that a hematoma?”  Or, “Do you mind if I ask what causes your face to have a purplish look?” 

Oh, but hey - here’s where the positive part comes in!

While I was still in the hospital, my mom called a hospital manager and made a complaint about the nurses.  She was not my nurse for any more of my time there, and the manager was extremely disappointed about how things took place with her.  While talking with the manager, my mom then casually mentioned, “I’m sure that once my daughter feels better, if you’d like, she’d be more than happy to come and talk with your staff and do a sensitivity training.” 

He was thrilled at the idea and told her he would mention it to his boss.  He liked the idea a lot, but had to receive permission needed to allow me to do this. 

When I told a nurse I really liked about the possibility of doing a sensitivity training, she told me with encouragement, “If you do this and I hear about it – I will be the first one to sign up to attend.”

The same idea was mentioned to another manager in charge of the lab department, and she too is asking for the permission needed for me to come to her department to share about my experiences, about sensitivity, and my patient insight. (I do have to make a note - when talked with the manager of the lab, I did let them know that I don't think their employee meant any harm.  I also pointed out that she also probably didm' realized how what she said could come across - and did come across - and that she spoke with kindness…However, I still believe it was still unprofessional.)

Not only did we have phone conversations with these two managers, but I also had an in-person meeting with a third manager who is also in charge of the hospital department. 

She felt horrible about the whole experience.  The birthmark portion, but also the negative parts unrelated to my birthmark.  She also asked me an unexpected question.

The manager asked me if I would be willing to participate in a hospital committee that consists of hospital leadership, doctors, and a few patients.  She wants me to share my stories with them, and feels that with my age and unique situation, I’d be a value to their committee.  She told me, “I love listening to you talk!  You are inspiring.”

I still have to be voted into their committee and have a background check, but even the possibility of being added in and possibly making a difference excites me.

Many people ask me what hospital all my experiences take place at.  Truthfully?  I know that doesn’t matter.  I hear stories from other people with similar experiences from across the country and world.  These things can happen anywhere, and everywhere – and they do.  And my goal is not to put any hospital down in any way, because I know that won’t accomplish anything.  That wouldn’t be a very impactful strategy while trying to help make a positive change.

These experiences aren’t my first like this in a hospital setting.  For years I’ve been ignoring people’s comments and remarks, choosing not to speak up.

I’ve finally hit that age and point where I’ve decided, “It’s time to take off the ‘I’m frustrated’ hat and time to change it in for a, ‘I’m going to do something about this’ hat instead.”  Within the last year alone, I've had four negative experiences in the same hospital.  (Please read It's Just a Birthmark! for the other stories.)  The thing is – I finally realized that I can make a difference.  I can make an impact.  My voice, my story, can be heard if I just speak up.  Maybe my personal attempt at change will be small, but overtime, maybe a bigger change can be made just by my tiny attempt and step.

When, and if, I really get to go and speak to all the nurses and to the different committees and departments of the hospital, I know that I’m not just raising my own voice.  I’m a representative for everyone who has ever had similar, unnecessary, experiences.  By finally speaking up, hopefully I can make a big enough difference for at least one person…One person who may not get the same negative treatment, just because I am speaking up.

I think this is a reminder from God that He has so many special, and unexpected, plans for my life.  His dreams for me are bigger than my own.  Had you told me two years ago that God would be opening these doors I never knew were possible, I don’t know if I would have believed you.

I’m excited to see where this goes, as even the most ugly situations can become the most beautiful.

The Travelin’ Chick,

Crystal

PS: For those of you who remember that I was hospitalized in Norway back in the summer of 2012, my doctors told me that more than likely, it was my gallbladder giving me problems then too.  Mystery solved??  (You can read Beautiful Norway on that story.  It's much shorter than this entry.)

Worth More than Gold

(Sometimes videos don't appear on all devices, so if you don't see the music video above "Worth More than Gold" by Britt Nicole, click here!)

A couple of weeks ago I was really struggling with a negative comment that was made to me in regards to my birthmark.  Some days I can easily laugh the negative things off that strangers say and do in reaction to my face, while others day it's not so easy to find the humor.  During this specific day and from a specific interaction, I allowed a stranger to take to my undesired, seldom visited, low place.

An hour later I got into my car.  I was feeling discouraged while questioning my value when it comes to my unique appearance.  I found myself questioning if it'd be easier if I hide who I am by expensive and uncomfortable make up, wondering if that would help me become more valuable in society's eyes…All while forgetting the countless beauties that come with my difference and the value that I have always had, and will always have, in God's eyes.

At the same time, I was (truthfully) beyond frustrated.  I was angry that more often than I prefer, strangers can't seem to talk to me as a person, focusing away from my birthmark…Forgetting that they can get to know the greater level of depth that I have - whether they ask me how I'm doing, about my summer plans, or even about my favorite hobby.

During a venting session taking place only in my mind during my drive home, I thought, "Don't people (strangers, specifically), realize there is more to me than the color of my face??   Why do they always assume it's okay to respond to what they see in certain, negative ways - or that I only want to talk about my birthmark?  Don't they realize I may have cool stories about traveling, that I may love to bake, and have exciting hopes for my life?  I'm just like any person.  I'm just like them…Why do they so easily forget that??"  Sometimes it feels as though some people treat me as though I'm only half a person, just because of half my face.

When I got into my car about an hour after this specific experience, I heard this song come on the radio.  I had heard the song before, but hadn't really listened to it.

This song is just what I needed in that moment.   It was the perfect reminder!!

I needed to hear that no matter what strangers say, no matter how they react, I'm worth more than gold.  I needed that reminder!!

My worth isn't in the way I'm treated by others, or in the way they talk to me…or in some cases, in the way they don't talk to me (that's a story to look forward to for my next blog entry).

My worth is based off so much more than a few opinions, stares, and remarks I receive from other people...and I can't ever forget that - and I should never let anyone let me feel any less, like I did that day.   I don't have to hide who I am to make other people more comfortable.  The way others treat me does not define me.  If anything, it gives me a glimpse into their heart and opens many doors to help educate those that I meet.

More importantly??  Through these experiences I feel as though I am constantly (on a daily basis) learning about what it truly means to be kind to others  - no matter if they're kind to me or not - and I think that adds to my value.  (Granted, I have to admit...sometimes it takes a couple of lessons to learn whatever I'm suppose to learn!)

Maybe you need a bit of encouragement too, or a reminder.  While the worth and value of gold fluctuates by human standards throughout the ages of time, our value and worth in God's eyes is always constant.  He always sees our true worth, even when we can't see it ourselves…and no matter how high gold is valued here on earth at any given time  - we are always worth so much more.

Whatever your struggle is I want you to know, "you're worth more than gold"…and I hope you never forget that either!

The Travelin' Chick,
Crystal

No One Compares to You

A cool thing happened today as I was leaving work.

As I was walking out of the office doors towards my car, a woman stopped to talk to me.  I've only met the lady once - several months ago - and have seen her on and off throughout the last semester or two.  (Not that it matters for this blog update, but I don't even know her name.  I just know we work at the same place but that we've also never really held a discussion before.)

When she stopped me, she unexpectedly told me something along the lines of, "I just wanted to let you know - you inspire me.  I know what you do…I know you go to the different classrooms to tell them about your birthmark.  You see...I have a bunch of scars that make me extremely self-conscious - and I absolutely dislike wearing short sleeve shirts because of how self-conscious they make me.  I'm being tested to see if I have lupus…which I don't think I have...but my doctors are totally clueless as to why I scar so easily.  I get so self conscious over my scars, but then I heard about you and your 'imperfection' and how you handle it…teaching others and being confident with it…persevering.  It has really helped and inspired me."

Oh...and the lady?  Today she was wearing a tank top.

You never know how others are being affected by you and your story.  You never know who is watching, who is listening.

I know that I am often able to help teach children about my birthmark.  Nearly every day I walk away from my work with a cute kid quote about a question they ask me about it (like my favorite, "did you get it from eating a hamburger?"), or a story about how I was able to help them understand my birthmark.

I know the children are listening.   I know they're watching.  But I realized today that I forgot about the adults around me.  The grownups - my peers.

Truthfully, I often forget I am different than everyone else on the outside - until someone points it out…and normally it's not pointed out in a positive way.  I forget that I have a unique story that most don't get to tell or experience.

To me, my story is normal.  My story is boring.  My story is my daily life.  It's the story I grew up with.  It's the only story I've experienced and fully know.

However, today's positive moment reminded me that in some ways, if I embrace it in the right way, if I don't let it bring me down or discourage me,  I can, I will, and I do have a powerful and slightly incredible story…and an extraordinary way to reach, educate, and connect with other people.

Today  I was reminded that to other, my story is not boring.  To others my story can be seen as interesting and mysterious.  It can be seen as an encouragement.

We all have our unique situations - the good ones, the bad, and those that are in-between.

How are you going to allow these situations to affect your life?  I hope you'll let them affect you for the positive.  You never know the impact you can make if you embrace your situations, persevere, and find the positive.  You never know who is watching…who is listening.  Even if you make a difference in one person's life…It's all worth it, right??  You never know the domino affect and legacy your story may have, just by changing the life of one other person.

I don't know how the lady knows my story.  We barely even know each other.  I don't even know her name.

I don't know how she knows that I sometimes go to different classrooms to teach the children about my facial difference…but I know that somehow, she does know.  I know that at some point she's listened.  She's watched.

Please note, I am not posting today's story in attempts of bragging.  That's not my desire at all.

If you're anything like me - you have a tendency to downplay how special you are.  You forget or ignore how valuable you are as a person.  You ignore your true beautiful worth, comparing yourselves to others with a measuring stick while thinking, "Oh wow.  That other person has done so much with their life…What can I show for mine??  I'll never be as talented or as influential as them.  I'll never be able to be like them."  (I have a horrible habit of doing this.)

I only want to encourage you - no matter your story…Your story is special.  Your story is unique.  It is extraordinary…And more importantly: You are extraordinary. You are special and unique.  You have value…and no one compares to you.

The Travelin' Chick,
Crystal

PS: If you want to read more about what I do when I visit classrooms to talk about my birthmark, and my goal in doing so, please read Breaking Down the Box.

My Lips Will be Sealed

I'm totally stepping out of my comfort zone
(in a major way)by posting this
photo…but this is how my lips
shut if I don't make the extra effort
to close them.

At this point, for those of you who follow me on Facebook and here on my blog, you all know that I am having laser treatments for my port-wine stain birthmark. In just a few weeks I'll probably be having another one.

During the next treatment we're going to do something I don't recall ever doing before - even from my treatments as a child. For the next treatment, I will arrive earlier than usual so they can numb my lip so that my lip will be treatable.

That's right. They're going to "beam up" my left-upper lip.

It doesn't sound pleasant, but we'll see how it goes. (I'm actually a bit nervous about it.)

When looking at my lips, it is easy to tell that they are not symmetrical. My right lip (the side without the birthmark) is smaller and thinner. It doesn't close all the way because the left side is too heavy and bulky. (This may not be obvious to those of you I only see in the digital world as, just like any woman, I look for my favorite photos - which usually avoid showing that aspect.)  If I want my lips to close all the way, I have to make an extra conscious effort for my lips to fully be sealed…and even then my attempt is not always successful.

I've asked my doctor about my lip many times in the last couple of years, "Is there anything we can do to help with this?" The doctors have told me that we can treat the lip, but more than likely there are no other options.

Many of you ask, "Why do you have the treatments? You're beautiful just the way you are!" While the treatments lighten my birthmark - that's not my overall goal at all.

My goal is not, "I'm going to have more laser treatments to lighten the birthmark so I can finally feel and be beautiful!!"…I have never thought like that. I'm okay with my birthmark. Sure, if I didn't have it, I could easily avoid a lot of frustrating situations - but I am okay with who I am…and that includes my "stain". I also enjoy being able to teach others a unique way many people can't.  (Although, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have my bad days.) If you read my post How Light is too Light??, you'll know that I struggle with the idea of my birthmark seeming invisible, and knowing how light is "too light".  

So why do I continue to do these painful and uncomfortable treatments? As I age, my blood vessels in the birthmark grow and enlarge, resulting in a lot of possible issues that can arise. Without the treatments, my birthmark’s color will darken as I age. It can even get larger in size. As the blood vessels grow and expand, my skin can also do the exact same thing, resulting in a pebble-stone type of texture. My skin can also harden because of the vessels and bleed for no apparent reason, once hardened. I am having the treatments to avoid all of this. Once all this happens - if it happens - the damage is done. There is no going back to smooth, soft, and “normal" skin. If I don't do the treatments and the hardening, pebble-stone, and excess random bleeding starts taking place, I can't undo it.

Another very likely possibility (that has been predicted by many medical professionals) for my future? My lip will continue to grow. It will continue to droop and sag, even more than it does now. Hence starting the process of treating it.

Fun fact? I didn’t know most of this information that until I started to do my own research a couple of years ago.  No one told me the risks of not treating the birthmark.  This is why I started doing my treatments again. This information has been my motivation in the most painful moments of a laser treatment.

When you grow up with a birthmark on your face, many things aren't really explained to you directly. As a baby, I was clueless and things were explained to my parents. As a child, they again, were explained to my parents. As a child, although I was somewhat aware, I still was kind of clueless to my difference and didn’t really care. I knew I was different , that people stared, made comments, and that I occasionally had treatments…but I think I focused on the outward appearance of my difference and not the medical reasons for them. When I was a teenager, I was a lot more aware but again, didn't focus on the medical causes, symptoms, or explanations of it.

Anyways…back to the point of this update.

Although I'll be treating my lip, the current damage has already been done. It is drooping and the treatments will not fix this problem. That being said, my doctor has recommended me to a plastic surgeon for reconstructive type of surgery for my lip.

Let me be clear: I don't want "new" lips. I just want them to be more symmetrical. I want to be able to fully close my lips with ease, instead of having to deal with the facial abnormalities that the birthmark causes.

Three professionals (my laser treatment specialist doctor, the laser treatment nurse, and my primary care physician) have told me that the plastic surgeon probably can't do anything to help. They'd probably be unwilling to try because my lip can continue to grow and become heavier, bulkier, and more droopy.  If my lip continues to do that, why try to fix it if my lip will later return to it's current state?  To summarize: In their opinion, it's practically a hopeless venture.

Well, today I had my appointment with the surgeon. I decided it never hurts to try or to ask…right?? (While I know it never hurts to ask, I was still nervous. I pretty much expected having to go in with a strong defense of why I feel this is necessary and the medical benefits of having my lip adjusted.)

The man was super kind as he measured my lips and assessed them. (I’m pretty sure that’s the strangest sentence I’ve ever written. Seriously.) I really liked the doctor as he really listened and seemed open to what I had to say.

At the end of the appointment, the doctor told me he was willing to give it a try! First, however, he wants me to go through one laser treatment where they laser the lip. He wants to see the affect the laser has on my lip. If it seems to shrink the lip (which, I’ve been told in the past that it won’t do that. Again, once the damage is done – it is done. But who knows? We could all be in for a surprise.) then he doesn’t think it’ll be necessary. But, if there seems to be no change in size after the next laser treatment then he is happy to continue towards a surgery to assist me in reconstructing the lip. He basically told me, “performing this surgery on you is no different than doing it on someone with a clef lip.”

If we do a reconstructive type surgery, he will basically go in and remove some of the extra tissue that is causing the extra puffiness. He only wants to take a little at a time, as he does not want to take too much. He told me, “It’s easier to take a little at a time. If you take too much, that’s a lot more work to fix.”

(Also, random note, this doctor even observed, “I’m noticing that for you to close your lips completely – you really have to compress the extra tissue.”)

I don’t know how this will all go down and how it will turn out. I’m mostly telling you all this as it is a part of the journey.

Ironically, my laser treatments are lightening the birthmark enough that people are starting to pay more attention to things like my lip. It seems as though I’m getting more questions at the school where I work, or by new people, “What’s wrong with your lip?” (Don’t get me wrong – I’m still being questioned about the purple birthmark itself. But I think, as of right now, those questions have decreased in amount while the others have been increased.)

I’ve always been more annoyed and self-conscious about my lip – more than I am with my birthmark (funny, isn’t it?)…but I think it’s mostly because I can’t even close the lips – and because I know the ability to close them will become harder as I age. I think if my lips could do the simple task of just closing, it would be a different story.

Having about three doctors tell me that more than likely no surgeon would be willing to operate was discouraging…Yet, the one I saw today was instantly more than happy to do so. I can’t even begin tell you how encouraged I feel after this appointment. 

While this may not seem exciting to some (and many of you may frown upon it, as I know some frown upon my doing the laser treatments), I am stoked.

The Travelin’ Chick,
Crystal


PS: I’ll update you when I know more – probably in 1 ½ or 2 months, after I see the doctor again about a month after my next treatment.

PSS: I still need to write a blog entry about questions some of you have asked me in the last couple of months. I just haven’t gotten to that yet, and I apologize. I have a few more questions of my own to ask my doctor before posting what I have already started, so if you happen to have a question – feel free to ask! I’ll include it. I’m practically an open book about my birthmark, whether you’re curious about the experience, medical technicalities, treatments, or even the emotional and mental processing of it all.

Extraordinary Lessons from an Extraordinary Language

For nearly half my life, I was certain that I was meant to go and live overseas full-time. Since I was about 13-years-old, it has always been my dream to travel abroad, pencil, paper, and camera in hand.  I wanted to capture what's going on around the world - stuff that the general media doesn't necessarily focus on.  I wanted to travel and share the tell stories of those around the world, and to tell of what God is doing with His people.  I’ve spent the last 9 years preparing myself for this journey. I’ve travelled, lived overseas, read books, lived overseas, and studied about mission work, journalism, and anthropology. 

Little did I know…That dream would later be molded to look a little different.

The city of where I live has many cultures within its borders. We are a huge melting pot, a huge tossed salad. I have American, Hmong, Mexican, Chinese, British, and French natives as neighbors. Yet, when I thought about working with other cultures, these local culture diversities never came to my mind as a group to work with.

It wasn’t until I started to learn about ASL, Deaf Culture, and the Deaf community, that I started to feel passionate about working with a local culture different from my own…A culture within my culture. A cultural group I’ve somehow unintentionally overlooked for most of my life.

Growing up, I had been slightly aware that there were Deaf people. The TV show 7th Heaven had a character by the name of Heather in their show. My sister started learning ASL in her late teen years and often signed in front of me, and we had a lady in church who use to use ASL as a ministry in our church.  My high school teacher also taught ASL and had an occasional Deaf student come to meet her while I was still at school.

It wasn’t until I took an ASL class  myself that I really started to see ASL - and the Deaf community. In the past I acknowledged that the language was there, but I really didn’t put much thought into what I was seeing. I was young and had yet to fully be educated on the topic.

ASL is a beautiful language and is greatly valued by the respectable and brilliant Deaf community.

I accidently fell in love with ASL. Before taking my first ASL class, I was journalism major…And now I’m not. (And I know that change shocked many people who have known me nearly all my life, including myself.)  Now I hope to become skilled enough in the language to become an interpreter. This has been a wonderful, unexpected journey that I’m glad I’ve been on for the last two years.

While learning about the wonderful culture and language, I’ve also learned a lot of other life lessons while learning this language.

Lessons I’ve learned while learning my second language, ASL:

1. My goal is to become an interpreter and I’ve learned that I really need to protect my ears. I now pay extra attention to how loud I listen to my music…In a sense, my ears are no longer just a part of my body allowing me to hear different sounds and conversations. My ears are a part of my future career. My ears are now a bridge for communication for others. They are no longer my own, as my career choice will allow me to help hearing people connect with those who are Deaf. (Although, I have to admit, I still have fun jamming sessions while driving down the road with friends on occasion.)

2. I’m a perfectionist, never wanting to make an error. But…Life is full of mistakes, just like the process of learning a second language. I’ve learned that it’s okay to mess up. It’s okay to make an error. It’s okay to make language bloopers! If I mess up while trying to sign something, it’s okay to acknowledge them, have a good laugh, and to learn from them. For example - last semester I was trying to tell my ASL teacher, Nancy, that I was feeding my aunt’s cat while she was away in Hawaii. Instead, the way I signed it came across completely different than I intended. Nancy’s face when from a shock and horrified expression, causing me to wonder, “Oh no…What did I just say??” Turns out, I told her I was eating my aunt’s cat…not feeding it!! (It’s amazing how one direction and movement of a sign can change the whole meaning! Oops!) While I felt slightly embarrassed, Nancy and I just sat in her office laughing about it and months later it’ll still be brought up as a joke. The error caused a good laugh, but more importantly? I took my mistake as a great learning experience and am now very aware of how to sign that I am feeding an animal, or person, without saying I am eating them.

3. Learning ASL has taught me to focus. It has taught me to focus on the person I’m in front of, to fully dedicate myself to the moment I am with my Deaf friends or in my ASL classes. Instead of pulling out my phone to check for text messages, I am intentional and I focus. For example…Let’s say that I’m with a group of Deaf friends. If I pull out my phone to check for messages and I take the time to respond, I’ve probably just missed a good chunk of what my friends are trying to tell me. Learning ASL has taught me to put my phone – and any other distractions – away. It has taught me to prioritize the moment I’m in and the person I am with.

4. I’ve learned to ASK questions!! Although I have a good background of ASL classes, I am not fluent. I’ve learned that if I don’t understand something – I need to ask for my friends and teachers to repeat what they’ve signed. If I don’t catch their fingerspelling, I need to ask them to repeat it and to slow down. If I don’t understand a sign, I need to ask for the sign’s definition. Learning that it is okay to ask questions has made a big impact in my life. I’ve noticed that this new habit even transfers to my other classes, like math. I’m no longer timid or shy on asking for assistance in understanding things.

Every now and then, my brain does kind of space out. For example…The other week I was talking with one of my teachers between classes. She was telling me that her pool was having problems as something was broken, and that it would cost her ‘X’ amount of dollars to do. I caught all of what she was saying – except the fingerspelling of what was broken. (Although I’ve seen improvement in my reading of fingerspelling, I still need to do a lot of work on improving my skillset even more.) Before I knew it, my teacher was asking me, “Did you understand what I just said?” The thing is, I did understand most of it…but not all of it. I asked her to repeat what she had told me, and she basically told me, “That’s why I thought. I know you well now – you get a look when you’re not understanding what I’m saying.”

It’s not that I intentionally wasn’t telling her I didn’t understand all that she signed to me. That’s not it at all. I want to understand what my teachers and friends are telling me. It’s not fair to my friend and/or teachers if I pretend like I know what their saying if I’m sitting their completely lost…and it’s not fair to myself either. The more ASL classes I’ve taken, the more I’ve gotten comfortable asking questions. Sometimes though, like the other day, my brain just goes into, “Oh man! I didn’t catch the fingerspelling”, mode…In turn, making my brain go into processing mode, trying to process what I just saw, just like this example from earlier in this semester. (Sometimes I don’t even realize that I have no idea what someone just told me until the conversation is over and I’ve already walked away. Can you say “spaz moment”??)

After my teacher repeated what she told me, I realized I did catch all that she told me and understood everything…everything but the fingerspelling of the word “pump”. Her pool pump is the cause of her pool problems.

The more I interact with those who are Deaf, the more I am trying to become aware of my signing and processing habits, and the ones I need to keep – or break.

5. Number four basically plays into number five. Learning ASL has taught me that I shouldn’t assume what someone is telling me. If I’m not sure, I need to ask questions. I need to seek clarity.

6. Learning ASL has taught me about worship. Again, I’m not fluent - yet. I’m not yet an interpreter. However, when Sunday morning comes along and I find myself sitting in a church pew as the worship team leads the congregation into a song, I often find myself thinking instead of singing. I don’t know a lot interpreting music, but I do know you have to understand the meaning to have the ability to interpret what is being said, or what is being sung.

During our worship time at church, I find myself sitting in the back pew trying to figure out how I would sign different lyrics. I find myself thinking, “What does this song mean?? Do I really understand what I am – and what I have been – singing? Or am I just singing along out of habit?” It’s taught me to pay attention to the words being spoken around me, or the words in a song. It’s taught me to see the true depth and meaning of worship songs, and it’s taught me that I sometimes don’t understand as much as I thought – even if I have been singing a song all my life. (Which still plays into number four…It has taught me to ask questions, and not just with people who I sign with, but with written words and spoken!)

7. Other students are just…students. Just. Like. Me.  (Whether I'm in ASL classes, math, or English.)

Sometimes I allow myself to get intimidated by others and how superior their signing skills seem to be compared to my own. Yet, this year especially, I’ve been reminded that we are all just students.  They don't have all the answers and neither do I.  My classmates have their strong spots, but so do I, and I shouldn't knock myself down because I have yet to learn something.  We all start somewhere, and we each have our own journey.

8. I’m never going to stop learning. I mean, I already knew this. But as I continue in my ASL classes, headed towards my interpreting career goal, I am reminded of this almost daily…and I’m okay with this fact.

9. I can make all the life plans you want, but I need to stay flexible.

I was planning to live overseas.  I was planning to be a journalist.  I really thought that's what God was guiding me to do.  While I do feel as though I will continue to go overseas to do short-term mission trips, for now I feel like my place is right here at home in America.  God still has me around another culture, I just didn't expect Him to place me in one so close to the comfort zone of my own front door.  Maybe God will guide me overseas later on in my life…but maybe not.  Either way - I'm staying open to the idea, I'm staying flexible.

10. Step out of your comfort zone!

I'm reminded to do this when I travel.  But when you travel, you often expect to step out of your comfort zone - and doing so is practically impossible to avoid.  Learning ASL has helped me step out of my comfort zone within my own country's borders…within my own city.  Giving a presentation in front of a class, using language different from my mother tongue?  Going to events where I have yet to know anyone else who is attending, and who speaks a language that you are only just beginning to learn??  Those are only two examples (out of many) of how learning ASL has been teaching me to step out of my comfort zone - and I'm glad that learning another language reminds me to do this on a constant basis.

------------------------------

These are just some of the lessons I've learned throughout the last two years and I know I'm bound to learn a lot more.  

When I signed up to take my ASL 1 class, I never expected this journey.  I thought, "I'll take ASL 1 and 2 for my language requirements and that's it."  Little did I know that I'd be sticking around for a lot longer (as in a life commitment), and that taking ASL 1 would guide me through a new and extraordinary door.

Are you learning another language? What lessons have you learned through your journey??

The Travelin’ Chick,
Crystal

The Opposite of Funny

Today is April Fool's Day.

It's a day in America where pranks and jokes are taking place throughout the whole day. It's a day when you can't trust anyone, and any bit of news is unreliable - especially online. (You know. It's just like what Abraham Lincoln once said, "You can't trust everything you read online!"…Right??) It's a day when doubt plants itself in every moment of that specific day, not know which moment or set of information we can accept as fact.

I love jokes. I enjoy a good prank. I didn't see or hear many jokes this year, but out of the few I heard, my favorite one was created by a child in kindergarten at the school where I work.

It was lunch time and my coworker was talking to a 5-year-old boy while helping him put his straw into his milk. He told my coworker, "I had eggs for breakfast!" Replying, she told him, "good!" Then, with excitement, he said, "APRIL FOOLS!!!! I had sausage." He was so proud that my coworker believed him when he told her he ate eggs for his morning meal. He was probably even more excited that he tricked an adult.

Most of the other jokes I saw were on Facebook. A friend of mine tricked her daughter when they gave her a muffin package. Their young child was sourly disappointed when they opened the package. They were expecting a sweet and tasty muffin inside...just to find some celery. The child's reaction was hilarious and the video received nearly 50 likes on her parent's Facebook page by the end of the night.

Then, I saw a few people post something I see every year - at least 5 times. Something that they claim as "fact" for the first few hours of their original post to later claim is as a joke. Yet, it's a joke that I don't find to be funny.  I didn't like it last year…and I still don't like it this year.  (I just finally decided to voice my opinion.) But most of all?  It's a joke that I wish others wouldn't make.

What was the joke??

"I'm pregnant…again!!"

It seems simple. It seems harmless.

For many women, this "harmless" April Fool's joke is quite the opposite of being considered funny.

Sure, it can be funny to those who have children and find no struggle in getting pregnant. It's easy for this joke to be funny to those who have never cried out to God while spending hours on their numb knees, asking God to bless them with at least one child…for those who have never spent hours at the doctor's office talking about fertility, fertility treatments, and saving thousands of dollars to spend on hopes of uncertain medicine to assist in the process. The joke may cause laughter for those who have never had the heart-wrenching moment at 2:00 a.m. of an ER doctor saying, "You're in your second trimester…but I can't find the heartbeat of your daughter."

Unless you have certain life experiences, it is probably easier to have a good laugh over things that cause others tears.

There is a great amount of (often forgotten) women out in the world who have a constant struggle when it comes to the topic of children and pregnancy…Women who are mourning every day for an unfilled desire.

Jokes like this are a fresh cut on an old wound…A wound created through experiences of miscarriages, giving birth to a stillborn, child loss, infertility, and even the struggle that some experience during the process of adoption.

When women, who have no problem conceiving children, who have never experienced the unforgettable and never-ending heart ache from child loss or infertility post, "I'm pregnant…again!!" as a joke…it's not even slightly funny.

Every day many women are reminded of what they don't have or about what has been taken away from them. When women who have children and an easy ability to conceive children, and then they joke about having another child - when they aren't really pregnant - it is another reminder. They can't have children, yet their friend with a house full of children has such an easy time that they can joke about it.

The woman with a household full of children is lucky. She is blessed as she has been given such an amazingly beautiful gift from God.

The women who have struggled with child loss and infertility? They are thankful. They are thankful that their friends have their children. They are thankful that not every woman has to battle their type of harsh struggles of motherhood. Their journey is something they would never wish upon another woman.

Women who have lost a child are reminded about their loss - or desire to have children - in the daily,
small things. They're reminded in the comfort of their own homes while they surf their TV and pass the drama-filled TV series Teen Mom. They are reminded when they go to a mall and pass the baby stores or the baby isle in Target wishing they could the cute frilly pink dress for a little one. They are reminded when their friends announce real pregnancies and are invited to an endless amount of baby showers - all while craving the ability to have their own celebration for their unfulfilled desire to hold a child of their own…Not to mention when they are reminded on the date of their child's birth, the date of their death, on Mother's day, and on Christmas. They are reminded when they go to place flowers on the gravesite of one of the few things that have their child's name in writing, the headstone of the local cemetery. They're reminded of their loss and struggle by the dusty stored boxes from their time of hope and joy, before that time unexpectedly ended in an indescribably, paralyzing pain.

It's okay to make jokes and to perform pranks on April Fools. But please - keep in mind that your posts are seen by all on your friend list. What may be seen as harmless to you can hurt another in ways that you (hopefully) will never understand. Your posts are seen by mothers, fathers - but also by the childless.

I've never lost a child of my own. I've not dealt with infertility - and I pray I never will…But I know so many who have - including my sister who gave birth to first child, to her daughter, Ashley, as a stillborn (read Going Home for the story from my perspective). Knowing how much it hurts me, just as an aunt of a child who has passed on, for people to make light of pregnancies and the reminder of the pain my family has gone through throughout the last two years since her death…just to see someone be so flippant...I know I can't even imagine the pain my sister must feel - especially when people know her story and that she sees all that they post.

Sure, time has passed since the death of my niece.  July 5th will mark the 3rd year anniversary of both her birthday and the day she died...But it is still a sensitive topic for my family.  Our hearts still ache and our memories often feel as though they just took place yesterday…Memories from the few short moments when we all held her for the last time (and in my case, it was the first and last time since I was abroad during her birth).

Please…Think before you post. Your words - written or spoken - do impact others around you.

And to those of you who have lost children and/or who struggle with infertility - please know that you are remembered and loved. My prayers go out to you and your family, and I pray that your deepest heart's desires will one day be filled with a precious bundle of joy for you to share your love with…(All while helping you lose brain cells and causing you many strands of grey hair.)

The Travelin' Chick,
Crystal