Fully Alive…Ready to Smile

Hi, my name is Erin and I shouldn’t be here. Literally. My parents were not supposed to have kids. EVER. They found out that my mom’s reproductive organs were completely incapable of producing a baby. Everything was twisted and shriveled. They had one chance to have a surgery and the odds were very, very much against them. If she chose to have the surgery they would have ONE chance to make a baby. If they didn’t get pregnant, that was it. End of the line. So they decided against the surgery and they waited for their miracle. The prayed and they talked. They decided to go for prayer at our church. After all, it says in God’s word that “where two or more are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” They had faith, they believed. They waited. They were blessed that in a couple months after they were prayed for they were pregnant with me. They named me Erin Joanna because Joanna means “Gracious gift from God.” I was told that from a young age. They instilled in me very early on what a role God had played in my life.

Some people wonder why I smile as much as I do. Is it fake? Is she flighty? No and no. I don’t always smile, but I have a million reasons to smile. I was a very happy kid. I always giggled and laughed. I just had a lot of joy, I guess. Let me tell you a story of how I became who I am today…

When I was 12 years old I started having terrible stomach aches. Well, actually they didn’t start out terrible, just persistent. First every few weeks, then a couple times a week and soon almost every day. It was confusing and I was afraid to tell anyone because I thought they would be mad at me for not feeling good, or tell me it was all in my head. So 90% of the time when someone would ask, I would say I was fine. That was the thing that made it worse. It didn’t get caught until it was way too late.

My parents went to Mexico on a holiday in February of 1993 and I stayed with some friends while they were gone. During that time I got really sick. When they came home, my mom freaked out because apparently I had lost a lot of weight. It had probably been happening gradually over time, but 2 weeks away from me made her notice the startling change. Suddenly it was a little more serious and we were trying to get me in to see a doctor. The first set of doctors appointments I went to were in April and the doctor diagnosed me with Anemia and I started taking iron pills. Over the summer months the pain got severe and my condition (which was still unknown) worsened. I prayed for someone to tell me what was really wrong with me so that I could get better. The unknown is so scary!

I had an appointment to see our pediatrician in August, the week after we came home from our annual week at the lake. While at the lake I sat and talked with my uncle who has had severe Crohn’s Disease for years. The more I talked the more serious his face became. By the end of our conversation he told me that the way it sounded I also had Crohn’s. That threw me for a loop. I’d watched him be ill for many years and now I knew what my life would look like. It was a devastating thought for me.

So I went for my appointment and within days, this illusive condition that no one had been able to diagnose, was diagnosed as Crohn’s. I didn’t know what to do. It kind of felt like a death sentence, even though everyone assured me that it was not. Unfortunately I kept hearing such discouraging phrases like “no known cause,” “no cure,” “chronic.” I couldn’t believe and I refused to believe that this disease was going to run my life. I wasn’t sure how to process this thought. I had hardly been sick a day in my life up till that point, so to be diagnosed with something that I could and would potentially deal with every day for the rest of my life shook me to the core. I grappled for every ounce of faith in me and prayed and tried to believe that I wouldn’t live my life with this chain around my neck. I reminded myself over and over that God had a purpose for me. That He brought me miraculously into this world and I was His and he had complete control over my destiny. It made my plight a little easier to bear.

From that time on I got sicker and sicker until the February of 1995. By this point I was really not eating or digesting anything. Over the previous year I had gone through multiple treatments of steroids to help my body function. These treatments were like a small oasis in the desert, where I could function normally and eat semi-normally for a couple weeks. When the treatment was over I would return to the previous state, usually worse than before. I tried different diets that made me life absolutely miserable (living on eggs, fish, brown rice and cooked vegetables is hard for a 13 year old!!). I took lots of herbal supplements, which more often than not I flushed down the toilet because swallowing pills in that quantity was more than my 13-14 year old body could handle. I had doctors appointments week in and week out. It was so hard on my family and I had pretty much no friends left at school because they thought in their heads that I could be contagious (pre-teens are the cruelest bunch).

I was called anorexic. I was told that they thought I was making myself sick to get out of Physical Education class (let’s face it, I hated sports, but not enough to make myself that ill! I would have given anything to be better and play a rousing game of basketball). I WAS blessed by the group of friends in my youth group at church who surrounded me with prayer and support. Who helped me keep a smile on my face through the whole thing. Through it all, I don’t think anyone really knew how much physical torment I was in because I made it my job to make sure everyone stayed happy and unaware of how bad it was. No one wants to hear someone complain. I made light of it. I laughed. I smiled. I had a paper on my wall that said “laughter is the best medicine, unless you’re really, really sick…then you should call 911.” That was what kept me going. That and the belief that my Jesus was going to make me better. That was my lifeline. I refused to let go. Faith is a tough thing to hold onto when you see no progress. No healing. I spent many nights lying in a warm bath at 3 a.m. crying out to God and asking why. Why am I going through this? The only answer I got was in Matthew 21:21-22 Jesus replied, “I tell you the truth, if you have faith and do not doubt, not only can you do what was done to the fig tree, but also you can say to this mountain, ‘Go throw yourself into the sea,’ and it will be done. If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.” So believe I did. Somehow this mountain was going to be moved. My faith may have only been the size of a mustard see, but He said that’s all I needed.

February 1995…my parents are stressed to the max, I’m bed ridden, and they decide we need a family holiday. So they take us on our very first plane ride and holiday to Mexico. The flight there is pure hell!! The altitude change and dry airplane air is more than my body can handle and I’m writhing on the floor between our seats because my body is literally trying to reject my intestines. There was this phenomenon that over the previous months I had noticed. Whenever my body would have a particularly bad cramp, you could see the whole outline of my intestines as apparently my body was trying to expel the thing that was making it ill. It was creepy.

We step off the plane and the humidity and warmth instantly make my feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven. It was fabulous. For the first time in almost 2 years I have no pain. No cramping. No nausea. Maybe that’s why Mexico has such a warm place in my heart. I could be Erin again. I ran on the beach, I ate like I had never seen food in my life. I enjoyed my family and we had a wonderful 2 weeks.

Interestingly enough, staying in the hotel next to us was a gastroenterologist. He apparently had been observing me for a few days when on one of our final days there he sought out my parents and took them aside. Now, I believe God places people in the right place at the right time to speak into our lives. This was such a God moment. He basically told my parents that if they didn’t want to lose me, they needed to make haste and get me to a hospital and have me hooked up on an iv and demand something be done. He said I was failing fast and that it would only be a matter of time before I was dead. You see, I was 14 years old and 65 pounds, completely malnourished because my body would not digest anything. I was starving to death. I think I played a large role in keeping everyone in the dark as to how sick I was. Anyone could see I was ill, I looked awful. I still can’t look at pictures of myself from that time. I think the very act of not talking about it in all honest with my parents kept them from seeking help sooner.

So we took another hellish flight home and within 48 hours I had gotten so ill that they rushed me to Emergency. I was admitted and promptly hooked up to iv’s and nasalgastric tubes. What I didn’t know until years and years later was that I was in the ward where the terminal cases were. I was with the children who were dying. I thank the Lord often that no one told me how serious my condition really was. I think that went a long way to me surviving.

One doctor even lied to me and told me that I could never die from this condition, they were just monitoring me and helping me get better. So that’s what became of my five week journey in the Children’s Hospital. My journey to getting better. I was full of hope. I was excited about getting better. I spent my time visiting with people, making the nurses laugh, cross-stitching, praying. It was the longest five weeks of my life. It was never ending. I was not allowed to eat. Not even ice chips. I had a blockage in my intestines that they were trying to clear out. This was what had been causing the problems and I guess it had been there for a while.

I was at peace the entire time I was there. I felt like God was watching over me. I didn’t realize that they were trying to stabilize me so that they could do surgery. My weight wouldn’t stop dropping and I guess my vitals were not great. Finally four weeks into my stay they booked me in for my surgery. They were going to remove the section of intestine that was causing problems. This is not a permanent solution, they told me, but it will get you back on your feet. Behind the scenes, they had told my parents that they couldn’t wait another week, it was the surgery or I was done. So my parents agreed to let the surgeons do what they had to knowing that the possibility was very, very high that I wouldn’t survive the surgery. I was too malnourished and I guess they didn’t think I had what it takes to get through.

The day before my surgery I met with my surgeon. He walked into my room and I swear he was an angel sent from heaven. He sat down on my bed and took my hands and said, “I can see from looking around your room that you believe in God.” I nodded. He then asked me and my parents if he could pray with us. My surgeon! He prayed for wisdom. He prayed for guidance. He prayed for the staff that would be attending me through my surgery. He prayed for healing and strength for me. As I’m remembering this it makes me cry because it was so amazing. God didn’t have to do this. But he chose to give me and my parents peace about this next step. I was not afraid.

I was wheeled into the operating room and I got up on the table myself. I was laughing about something with one of the nurses and she just stared at me and said “Are you not afraid?” I smiled and shook my head. In retrospect, that day, that moment was one of the best moments of my life. I knew that this was a turning point. I woke up 4 hours later with 13 inches less intestines.

I spent another week recovering and on Mother’s Day, May 14, 1995, I walked out of the hospital. I recovered faster than anyone ever thought possible. I remember the drive home. It was the sunniest, brightest, most beautiful day ever. No one knew I was coming home that day except my parents. It was a Sunday morning and I asked my mom to go straight to church because I hadn’t been in months and I wanted to surprise my friends. I walked in during the middle of the singing and I’ll never forget how quick a hush fell over the entire congregation as I walked up the aisle to where my friends were sitting. There was this eruption of excited screams from my girlfriends and suddenly everyone was clapping and cheering. My church had been rooting for me and praying for me and standing with my parents in every way possible. Bringing them meals and driving them to and from the hospital when they were too tired to drive themselves. Staying with me when my parents had nothing left in them. It was amazing to see such a unity and a community. All for a little girl. This is what true Christianity looks like. Selflessness, love, help, support, prayer.

I’m happy to report that it’s been 12 years and I have shocked my doctors by never having a recurrence of this terrible disease. There are some things I still don’t digest like most people, but I’ve never experienced pain or symptoms of Crohn’s again. I was given a new lease on life. For the second time in my life I had been given a chance to live. A miracle.

The years following my surgery were not always easy. I had a LOT of emotional baggage from the years of illness. I haven’t been able to have any sort of stomach issues without battling fear and doubt. I’ve had to overcome serious issues with eating. Not being able to eat for the better part of 2 years gave me the mentality that someone was going to one day take my food away and so overeating was a huge issue for me. Only in the last year have I been able to understand that I can truly control what goes in and that I only need to eat when I’m hungry and to recognize what hunger is. This is the first year my weight hasn’t fluctuated all over the scale. I’ve come to the realization that I really and truly am healed.

So if you ask me why I smile so much, I just really, really enjoy life. A lot. I want every moment to be celebrated. I want to surround myself with friends and laughter. I want others to see how precious this life is.

I see my children as miracles. I see my husband as a miracle. And on that note, we got married on Mother’s Day weekend 6 years after my surgery. Mother’s Day has a triple importance to me…I’m ALIVE, I’m married to an amazing man and God has blessed us with two sweet girls that call me “Mom”. What more could anyone ask for?

If you made it to the end of my long story, thank you for taking the time to read it. There are so many other things I could add to this story, but I don’t know how to even begin. I may add to it as I think of more.