Monthly Archives: July 2013

A Mutant In My Genes-MTHFR

So many things to say about this, but I will start here. . .

Last week, after years of searching for the cause of numerous chronic but smallish health issues, I finally found a piece of the puzzle. I tested positive for MTHFR homozygous C677T. I realize that sounds a little complicated. It IS complicated. And thus began my research.

I am currently on information overload. I see links to many of my health issues that I have dealt with for several years. I’m just starting to understand the very basic nature of what this mutation means. But as a writer, and someone who best processes information by writing about it, I chose to add this new section to my website. Mostly to help me catalog and document this healing process, but also to help others who may be looking for information, confused, overloaded and wanting someone to help them break down the crazy amount of science and pseudo-science out there into easy-to-understand terms.

But also, since the primary purpose of this website is:

Motherhood. Imperfection. Surrender. Survival. . .what better goes along with that theme than this journey toward healing my imperfect body. Nothing in this world is perfect, but in my experience, surrendering to imperfection can bring peace, and I plan to not only survive the issues caused by this imperfection. . .I plan to conquer them and regain my health.

I can’t promise to have all the answers, but I invite you along for the ride as I search for the path back to health. As I sort through the information and find what works for me, I will document it here. And if you have personal experience with MTHFR and your own healing story to tell, please comment. :)


970629_10200895837612522_808500955_nDear Jubilee,

Some days you feel like my little soul-clone. Today is one of those days. We’ve had two weeks of almost constant activity. Including last weekend where we had very little down time. You and I both crave down time. So today, Daddy’s downstairs on his computer, Romeo’s napping, Melody is spending the weekend with Nana, and you and I are in a tangle of legs on the couch. Neither of us want conversation or interaction with one another. Both of us crave physical touch. So here we sit, me on the computer, you watching a show on the iPad, tangled together contentedly, yet separate.

I know we are both deep feelers. I think that’s what leads us to these days where we need nothingness. Emotions can only run that high for so long until a crash is inevitable. So today, rather than continuing to run until we crash, we will sit here together, yet apart, recharging in a way that we both seem to instinctively fall into without conscious thought. And it feels yummy. :)

Love, Mama

A New Level of Surrender

Dear Romeo,


It was your first birthday party. We put you down on a beautifully patterned splat mat with your own little cake. . .the traditional “cake smash” that has become a family tradition at our first birthdays. You swiped some frosting with your hand and did not like the texture. At all.


And you began to cry. . .and because I am your safe zone and I was sitting at the edge of your smash zone, you crawled over to me, wanting to sit on my lap for comfort.


At first, I turned you around to redirect you back to the cake. You were both interested and repulsed by it all at once. The texture was new to you, you had not yet figured out that the cake was actually something to eat. You were too focused on the unpleasant sensation of gooey stickiness on your hand. I helped you put some in your mouth and you liked the taste, but still not the goo on your hand. You then got it on both hands. Still not a fan of the way it felt. Still intermittently licking the sweet cake and fussing as you explored. 1053193_10200421496239066_1151188679_o 1053383_10200421503959259_1797250861_o

Then I saw it happening in slow motion. You were overstimulated. Too many people. Too much newness. A delayed nap time so that you could comply with MY wishes to entertain the partygoers. You began to cry. Hard. And to crawl up into my lap. Covered in cake from head to toe. My anxiety level began to rise as I saw the smooshed, greasy cake-mess being smeared on my leg, then my pants, then my face. Then someone behind me made a comment and all I heard was the phrase, “a mother’s love.” And I looked at your sad, anxious little face and realized that you needed me more than I needed to be clean. You were sad. You were uncomfortable. You were scared of the newness. . .all to fulfill a tradition that you didn’t ask for. And so, I surrendered. I took a deep breath and pulled you close. I kissed your messy face and felt frosting ooze down my chin. I held your sweet little hand as the sticky cake squished between my fingers. And I felt exhilaration. Joy. And an overwhelming love for the sweet little person you are.1064963_10200421811246941_2145108417_o

Those at the party who know me very well were amazed. They knew just how far out of my comfort zone it was to allow this kind of mess on my person. I am that mom who avoids Play-Doh because messes make me crazy.  Finger painting is maybe a semi-annual event in our house because it takes me a day to work up the nerve to get it out and another several hours to come down from the anxiety of the clean-up. Chaos makes my heart beat too fast. I crave order. Neatness. Clean. Predictability. And having cake smashed all over myself from head to toe does not fit that profile in any way. But I found joy in surrender. Together in the midst of that chaos, we made a memory that I will cherish forever.1025537_10200421809366894_811500435_o

I had brought a change of clothes for you, knowing you’d be wearing your cake after the event, but nothing for myself. With your sisters, they smashed their cake in a high chair, carefully confining the mess and making it easy to clean up. Our dear friend who was hosting the party at her house took me upstairs and offered me a clean dress to put on. As I mopped the goo from my neck and face, I found myself smiling rather than grimacing. Because allowing myself to relax in that moment is a milestone I never thought I’d reach. Taking that deep breath and surrendering to the moment felt. . .well. . .beautiful. Remarkable. Joyful. Just. Full. And allowing my heart to fill in such a way is a new experience for me. . .and one I hope to repeat many times in the future. Because you’re worth it, little boy. You’re worth working through the pain of my brokenness to find that place where I can truly be present. Thank you for providing me with the opportunity to feel that kind of joy.

Love, Mama.1040154_10200421811966959_888636035_o