The Oglesbys' Adventure

One year ago I was looking for answers.  One year ago I was in the middle of losing what we were so excited for.  One year ago I had no idea what struggles and triumphs the next year would hold. A lot can happen in one year and it's hard to believe it's already been that long since my world turned upside down, inside out, and all kinds of ways. But also seems like the slowest year of my life. As I started thinking about what to write for this blog post, I thought that focusing on the journey of a miscarriage should be the focus, I mean that's the significance of today right? One year post-miscarraige. But then I felt like that didn't give the whole picture of the journey of heartache that started a year ago. But then I felt lost, because how am I supposed to share all of the emotions I've felt due to our miscarriage over the last year, let alone the trauma of being diagnosed with cancer, losing an essential part of my body, making my body radioactive, and altering m

It's wild how all of a sudden days and moments that used to mean nothing hold all of the meaning in the world. I mean who knew that September was Thyroid Cancer Awareness Month? Or that October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, or that May 25th is World Thyroid Day, or that the Sunday before Mother's Day is Bereaved Mother's Day. If the world was a perfect place without any hurt or heartache, we wouldn't need to name these days anything different than their month or day, but unfortunately we do.  Honestly, I wish I didn't know these days. I wish they didn't hold the meaning they do now.  But those are the cards I've been dealt.  So in light of having a new meaning to September, I figured Thyroid Cancer Awareness Month was as good of time as any to share my cancer journey update and a little back story of my thyroid journey. I want to share a bit of backstory because a lot of pieces have come together these past few months since I last shared

When everyone kept telling me that 25 was a big year, I don't think this was what anyone had in mind. Year 25 was the year that kept on giving. It was the year that I learned more about grief, coping, fear, hurt, healing, and grace than I bargained for. A good friend told me the week before my surgery that "We all have a year we look back on and don't know how we made it through." Year 25, I think you were that year for me. To be frank, Year 25, you KICKED. MY. ASS. If I wrote to you today and told you that I was 100% who I was when I started year 25, I would be straight up lying to myself and all of you. If I tell you I am over it all and good to go anytime soon, feel free to call me out - because I am definitely not even close. I'm making progress, but I've got a way to go. The stage of life that I'm in right now feels like I take 2 steps forward and 5 steps back.  (photo credit: Holly Ann Abel  with Bloom Like Magnolia Photography) Year 25 left me with

Sweet Baby O, Happy Due Date. Today we add another "should have been" to our list. Today should have been the day we met you, snuggled you, and saw your sweet face in person for the first time. Unless you were stubborn like me, in that case we might have had to wait a few more days or weeks to meet you. Unfortunately, God had some other plans in place. Even though we never had the chance to meet you face to face, you have taught me so much and even though these lessons were and are difficult to learn, I am so thankful that you were the one to teach me them.  You've taught me patience when I needed it most and to have grace with myself. I've learned to advocate for myself and my health - both mental and physical. You've taught me to rest. I've learned that in the seasons of hurt and heartache there is going to be joy for myself and others. And it's going to suck for lack of better terms to have grief and joy at the same time. I still am not sure how to feel

I started writing this post three days before my cancer diagnosis and it's sat here until now because healing through my miscarriage took a place on the back burner. I had a great story that I wanted to share about how grief can change your perspective on things, that small errands can turn into treacherous emotional waters, and that its no where near a linear path to healing. It went something like this. March 22, 2021: "This week I bought my first onesie since my miscarriage .  Normally I would oooh and awe over how cute those baby outfits are. I would slowly walk through the baby section imagining how cute I would style my future kiddos and thinking how I would convince Dilan we needed just onneee more outfit. I would imagine a closet full of cute outfits and a nursery decorated with all the ideas from Pinterest board. I would be filled with emotions of excitement, love, hope, all the good things. This time it was different. I didn't dwell in the baby section. I was in

"Are you by chance a mother?" I stared at the Barista through the drive thru window as my brain raced to think of an answer. She fills the silence. "Ooor is this going to a mother?" "Uhh... kinda?" I watch as she placed a Happy Mother's Day sticker on the top of my drink, tears forming in my eyes.  I'm sure this doesn't come as a surprise, but this isn't how I expected to spend my first Mother's Day. I expected to spend it dreaming of the last few months of my pregnancy. Taking cute Mother's Day pictures with my growing belly. Setting up the nursery. Enjoying good food instead of being on a special diet for cancer treatment.  Instead I was a mess.  No one tells you this about miscarriages . They don't tell you that the firsts will feel like a gut punch. Or the holidays that are meant to celebrate what you should have been and what would have been will hurt like no other. They don't tell you that some people won't know

Rest. I find rest hard. I am constantly in go mode. But if you didn't already guess this, you can't constantly be in go mode when you're recovering from a major surgery  that takes an essential piece of your body out. Especially when that piece of your body effects so many things that your body does.  I cannot begin to express my thankfulness for all of the support I've received throughout the last weeks. Messages before and after surgery, cards, prayers, flowers, gift cards, meals, phone calls, and people checking in on myself and my family has meant the world to me. It has made the gravity of this situation easier to handle and recovery an easier process to handle for this go-go-goer.   Today, I start week three of getting used to my new normal. I'm getting used to a new medicine regimen, hoping that my hormones get themselves figured out at some point, and beginning to work through the healing process physically, mentally, and emotionally. I'm trying to be ho

Today, 5 months to the day after the start of my miscarriage , Dilan and I met with an ENT doctor to decide my treatment plan to tackle Thyroid Cancer. Papillary Carcinoma to be exact. As much as I want this to be an April Fool's joke, it's my new reality.  The "C" word is not really the news you want to hear at 25.  I was diagnosed a week ago after a nodule was found on my thyroid during a routine physical. That was followed by an ultrasound, which was followed by a biopsy. That was followed by phone call from my doctor asking if I could come in that afternoon. I knew it wasn't good when they asked me to come in as quick as they did. I'm glad Dilan was there for both of my appointments, because honestly I was able to comprehend about half of the information because of my shock. Since that moment, I've cried at SO STINKIN' MANY THINGS. I've honestly felt like I've lived my past week in slow motion and on the brink of tears.  I've cried beca

It's hard to believe it's been a year since the world seemed to shut down. A year to the day since the journey that I like to refer to as "COVID teaching" began.  A year ago I began setting up my home office/classroom. I struggled with the news that school buildings would remain closed. That I wouldn't see my students face to face. That the end of the year would look much different that any of us could have imagined.  Things were changing daily, sometimes hourly. The normal as we knew it was no longer there. I've thought over and over about how to summarize the last year of education, I am sure I could find things to complain about, to ponder over, or wish I would I would have done differently, but what good would it do? So instead, I chose to share a few lessons that I've learned over the last year where our lives were turned totally upside down, inside out, and twisted all which ways. 1. Kids are so stinkin' resilient  Kids have been asked to do so m

November 11, 2020: The day I took two pregnancy tests because I just couldn't believe the 1st one. As cliche as it sounds, as soon as I knew I went into planning and nesting mode and I could hardly wait to tell Dilan that night when he got home. I'd planned out how I would tell him I was pregnant for so long, it was such a sweet moment to see it come to be outside of my Pinterest collection. I could barely stand the few moments where Dilan did EVERYTHING POSSIBLE to avoid opening that dang box of donuts!  November 30, 2020: I started feeling a little funky, I had a huge headache, was extremely exhausted, and just felt off. I had started spotting and I started thinking the worst. I researched so many "what ifs" I made myself even sicker. December 1, 2020: I started spotting even more, called the doctor, and got my blood drawn for the first time to measure my levels. Dilan and I ended up driving around on an adventure around Manhattan to distract us, still dreaming, st