About me and My Story

 Hi Friends! 

Welcome to my new blog. I tried this a long long time ago, and it didn't really work out for me. I'm hoping this time will be a little different. Props to all those busy moms out there who can make time for blogging and social media, because its hard work! 

I wanted to start over because I think this will be a great way for me to share a very traumatic life experience. I've always been pretty quiet on social media when it comes to "bad" experiences that happen in my life. I know that seems silly, and I'd love to be more transparent and vulnerable with you. So hopefully this can help me do that. 

 

I think I'll start by introducing myself for those who don't know me. My name is Lexi Harker. I'm a mom to the most adorable 18 month old little girl. I run a full time business in the wedding industry and am also a part time hair dresser and makeup artist. I've been married to my amazing husband for the last 5 years. I could bore you with all the small things like hobbies and such, but I think I'll keep this short, sweet, and to the point. 

A couple months back I decided I wanted to share my story, I'm not really sure what brought it on, but I knew that it needed to be heard. I knew that it would bring me some peace if I could get it out there. I hope it will give other women peace in knowing that they are not alone in whatever they may be dealing with. 

I started working on a project with a fellow photographer Carlee Lewis. Her and I knew each other in high school and had reconnected. She had asked me to do a body positivity shoot with her. I wasn't available on that date, but I let her know I had a project I wanted to work on together. I felt she was strong enough to handle the story and turn it into something beautiful. About a week later I had a small job doing makeup for the owner of Nena & Co. While I was doing her makeup, one of her employees came up to tell her some stories she had received from women all around the world sharing their stories of tragic events but how they were overcoming them. This project was for a new bag being released tomorrow. It represents Womanhood and all trials of women. Ali (the owner) asked if any of the women were local as she wanted to interview them. I let her know that if she needed a story, I had one I was willing to share. The next week I was able to go back into the studio and interview with the team. I was so excited, yet nervous to FINALLY share the story I had been sitting on for the last 18 months. 

    We often look at strong women and assume that they have their life so put together. I can tell you from my experience working with hundreds of women over the last 5 years, the strong ones are the ones who have been through the most shit. For me, the most important thing I have learned is to look at each situation and see the positive out of it. I always have to ask myself "What am I supposed to learn from this?" Of course we can allow ourselves to embrace the sadness and feel bad for ourselves for moments at a time, but my goal in every trial is to look to the light and ask myself what I am supposed to be learning. 

Anyway, lets get to the point right? 

Eighteen months ago our lives were changed forever. Of course right? We had a new born baby! Our first one! How exciting! I knew I always wanted children, however, she wasn't exactly planned. We had been married about 2 years and decided that if it happened it happened. It took us a little over a year to actually get pregnant, which was honestly perfect for us! They say you'll never actually feel ready, which we didn't. But we were excited. I was pretty lucky through my pregnancy. I didn't get very sick, and was able to work and run my business through my busy months. About 6 weeks from birth I started having a pretty hard time. I'm only 5' tall and that little babe was running out of room. My body couldn't support her weight very much longer. I had to quit working a little earlier than planned, but I needed to make sure we were both safe and healthy. At about 28-30 weeks I was diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes. I had gained a total of 70 lbs from this pregnancy. My doctor suggested an induction (which I was honestly hoping for) at 39 weeks. I was so happy to have a date that I knew this baby would be here, but was surprised they would let me do this with my first baby. By the time that 39 weeks was here I was so so ready to get this baby out. 

Initially I was feeling so excited and exhausted and ready for this baby. 

Besides the physical stress,

I was so excited. I was ready to be a mom. I always felt that I had a motherly instinct. Finally getting the call “were ready for you” we had been waiting all day. We went and had one last dinner as just the two of us. We headed to the hospital. 

The week before I was scheduled to be induced, a friend of mine had a “failed induction”. I didn’t know that could happen. It had me feeling a little nervous. So the first thing I asked my labor and delivery team was what if this is a failed induction. I don’t know why I thought that would happen to me? They told me that would not happen and I wasn’t going home until she was here. 

When I arrived, I was only dilated 1 cm. They gave me some medicine and a cervical balloon to start dilating my cervix. After those contractions started I needed an epidural. Once the pain went numb, I was so relaxed the rest of the hours become such a blur. I’m sure I slept some. After the cervical balloon was taken out my body didn’t seem to be progressing. It was so frustrating, I was mad that my body wasn’t doing what is was supposed to do. During those long hours, there were lots of tests. At the 31 hour point I was only dilated about 6 cm. my nurses came in and said were upping the medicine for 4 hours. At this point, my epidural was no longer working. I was feeling all contractions. I Couldn’t breath. I Was not prepared for the pain I felt. The anesthesiologist came back and gave me a new one. Better, but only half numb. 

At that point when they told me 4 more hours of pain, I looked at Blaise (my husband) and said I think I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. He was so exhausted and didn’t want to see me in pain anymore so he agreed. We told the Doctors and nurses we wanted a C section. 

They warned us about all the risks associated with major surgery. We still agreed. They do this every day. They’re experienced. 

They got us ready and wheeled us back to the OR. I opted to be awake so Blaise could be with me when Ivy was born. The process of a C Section for me was so traumatic. They have a curtain so you can’t see but they’re literally cutting, pulling, and shaking a baby out of a small incision. My body was in such shock I was shaking uncontrollably. After they took her out we both just waited for a bit. We couldn’t really move. We were both so exhausted. They wheeled us into the recovery room and laid sweet ivy on my chest. We did it! We had our sweet baby! At some point that night we were transferred to the maternity ward. 

The pain was so intense... the nurses kept coming in to check on me, asking me how I’m doing. I could hardly move. My belly was still huge, and when they touched me I would cry. I really think they thought I was being dramatic about my pain... I wish I was. Over the next few days what happened was such a blur. Test after test after procedure after procedure. 

Blood draws, ultra sounds, CT scans, NG tubes, IV’s in and out, laxatives, antibiotics, pain medicine. After 3 days I still couldn’t get out of my bed. The nurses and doctors would come in and say- you need to get up and walk or you’re not going to get better. I knew that was the case, what if I was just being dramatic? Does everyone go through this much pain? They can’t find anything wrong with me? Around day 3 I sparked a fever. More tests came. More blood draws, catheter pulls, throat swabs. Where was it coming from? The pain was still so intense I couldn’t move. All while nurses and my sweet husband took care of my newborn baby. 

A UTI is what they told me I had. Okay that’s pretty normal. There’s been lots of tools and hands around that area the last 4 days. They started me on antibiotics. They wanted me fever free for 48 hours. 

At this point my husband and I had been in the hospital a total of 5 days. His mother came to stay with us at the hospital too because Blaise was exhausted trying to take care of me and our new baby. He was so ready to go home and experience our new life. On the night of day 5, the nurse aids came to check my vitals. It was about 11PM. She says to me "Oh no you’ve got a little fever." I was so frustrated I said, no please check again. I can’t go home tomorrow if I have a fever. The next morning I woke up, things were getting better. I was still in pretty hideous pain. Couldn’t wipe my own self. Could not walk more than a few steps. Not able to really get out of bed on my own. My social worker came in and started giving me discharge paperwork. She said “ are you sure you’re ready to go home?” I looked at Blaise and his mom and new they were ready. Again, am I just being dramatic? I guess I was ready. If the doctors said I’m okay? I guess I’m ready. When we walked out to the car that day I had to be wheeled out, because I still couldn't walk more than a few steps. Was this normal? 

When we got the car, Blaise put Ivy in. I drive a jeep and when I went to stand up to get into the car, I couldn't. I had to have Blaise and the nurse's aid push me up into the car to get situated. This should have been a huge red flag. 

On the way home, the pain was horrible. Every bump I felt like my insides were going to fall out. When we finally got home I was so ready to start feeling better and take care of my baby.I wanted to be able to do all the normal things I was supposed to be capable of doing. Breastfeeding, changing diapers, cuddling, and just being in awe of my newborn baby. I still was unable to do any of these things... I felt so guilty. How do other women go through this amount of pain and still take care of a newborn baby? I knew Blaise and his mom (Jenn) were so frustrated with me that I was not able to do any of these things. I think that made it harder for me, thinking that I was just over dramatic with the pain I was feeling. 

The next few days I still was not feeling well. I had lots of visitors at the house but still couldn’t walk much or really take care of Ivy. Friday was probably the worst day. I felt pretty sick, and started having a fever. I called the hospital, and talked to the on call doc. They said it’s probably something small, but if your worried then come into the ER. After all that time in the hospital that’s the last thing I wanted to do. My baby was 9 days old. I didn’t want to be away from her any more. I decided to wait. I wanted to just go into the OBGYN clinic and see my doctor. Monday morning I saw my Dr. My vitals were normal, they did labs, and checked my incision and presses down on my stomach to check my uterus. When she pressed on my stomach she asked if it was painful. I said no not really. She said “if you have a uteruen infection you’d hit the ceiling.” 

I didn’t recognize this at the time, but wasn’t that the pain I was feeling in the hospital? Doesn’t this explain all the symptoms I was having? 

High heart rate (140-165 resting) 

Fever

High white cell count

Excruciating pain 

She said to me “you shouldn’t still be having pain, I want another CT scan” at this point in 10 days this would be my 4th CT scan. We had to wait for insurance approval so they sent us home. We got home, then received a call they had approved it and wanted to see me right away. I still couldn’t walk well, so my dad walked me out to Jenn’s car. When he sat me down he looked at my legs, where two small spots of white liquid were starting to pool. He looked at me and said “uh Lexi, something is happening” I looked down and saw the pooling liquid. It smelled so bad. I got back out, and my dad ran inside to get towels. As I walked inside it ran all down my legs. I sat on the toilet and Jenn came in, my dad running down with extra towels. She looks at me and says I’m so sorry but we have to see what this is and where it’s coming from. She lifted my saggy belly and my whole incision dumped pus into the toilet. It smelled so bad my dad was holding a trash can at my mouth as I kept puking. 

What do I do? Do we call an ambulence? Is this an emergency? My dad and Jenn wrapped me up and we rushed to the ER. They took me right back and got me a room. Started me immediately on fluids and antibiotics. The hours we were there seemed so long. Doctors and nurses kept coming to look at it and swab it. They finally put me in a room after hours of being in the ER. I don’t remember who was there with me at that point. A couple doctors and nurses came in and told me “we have to open your incision to see what’s going on” while I’m awake? No way. I’m not going through more trauma. Please put me to sleep! They explained that it may be an easy fix. And they just need to see. Going under can be risky and they want to avoid it if they can. They numbed me and gave me anxiety medicine. They literally took a scalpel and reopened my incision. My memory gets spotty here. I don’t remember what happens until I’m in the OR with an oxygen mask on. I asked the tech if we could take a break because I was feeling so claustrophobic. She kinda laughed and said were putting you under. 

The next thing I know I’m awake. I have a huge tube down my throat, and my hands are tied. I’m so foggy. I can’t talk, or use my hands. Blaise was sitting next to me. He seemed calm but I had no clue the night of hell he had just experienced. He just kept telling me, it’s okay. You’re okay. I think he was just happy I was awake and he knew I was okay. It took a few hours but they finally took me off the ventilator and got me into a more normal room. When we got there Blaise sat by me and said "they had to do some things to you but I’ll let the doctor tell you". How could he have the heart and heaviness to break the news to me? 

My doctor came in later that day and broke the news. My uterus was gone. They couldn’t save it. They did everything they could but it was not savable. 

My sick self couldn’t even comprehend what she was telling me. I feel like the first week after surgery is such a blur. Family and friends came and stayed with me. Jenn helped so much with Ivy by taking her home each night and bringing her back during the day. It had been 2+ weeks and I hadn’t even got to put her to bed, change her diaper, make her a bottle, nothing. What kind of horrible mother was I? Those first 7 days were hard. I was still very sick, and still dealing with infection symptoms. I was full of drains, and IVs and dealing with this incision that couldn’t be re-stitched. 

They eventually put what’s called a wound vac over my incision. The process to clean and change the dressing was painful and stressful, but better than having to change it every couple hours. After the first initial week things were getting better. I was starting to feel better, could get in and out of bed easier, was able to pay attention to my daughter more. I was so happy to be feeling better I never wanted to let go of ivy. I wanted her by my side every moment I could. I remember looking over at Blaise and seeing him crying. I looked at him and said  "why are you crying?" He just shrugged is shoulders and said I’m just happy to see you getting better. We still had not talked about the trauma he’d been through that night of surgery.

I was oblivious to everyone who sat in the waiting room that night... when someone said to me “Lexi your family thought you were going to die.” Wait what? Why? What happened? I was so focused on myself I didn’t realize how much pain everyone else went through that night. When my dad came back that night. (He came every day and just sat in my room for hours whether I was awake or asleep.) I said to him- why did you think I was going to die? What happened that night? He said: we waited for hours without any news. They told us just over an hour to clean up and irrigate your infection. Then 4 hours into surgery they came and grabbed us. They told us how bad it was. That you were septic and your pelvis and intestines were full of abscesses. That any more time, would have killed you. That you were going to be on a ventilator after surgery for an unknown amount of time. They were going to keep you sedated. And that 3 teams of surgery doctors were trying to save your uterus, but couldn’t. 

I think I cried for the next 3 days. I told all my family how sorry I was they had to go through that. I told them all how much I loved them. And how grateful to have their support and love through such a crazy time. I honestly don’t think I’ve experienced that kind of love and gratitude ever in my life before. 

I had so much guilt for putting them through that amount of scare and stress. 

After 10 full days in the hospital I was healthy enough to go home! Finally! 

At this point I still had two drains the wound vac and a midline IV to have 24 hour antibiotics. 

After basically a month of being bed ridden and sick I felt weak. I was told I couldn’t carry my baby around or anything heavy. I felt so helpless. I couldn’t be the mom I was so ready to be. I felt guilty for all the help I needed. I have always been a confident, independent person. I hated feeling no control over my life at that moment. 

Every other day I had home health care come in and change out the wound vac. Get my blood drawn, check and make sure I was doing okay. Without Jenn I don’t know how we would have survived. Blaise had to go back to work to pay our mortgage and put food on our table. And I know he felt guilty leaving us. I still felt guilty having Jenn there taking care of Ivy and I. Getting us food. Making sure I showered, took my pills, and was eating. Doing our laundry, cooking, and keeping the house clean. What would we have done with out her? She stayed at our house every night for 4 weeks. Plus hospital stays. Plus taking Ivy home with her so we could rest and not worry about her. I always thank her for being so selfless, and uprooting her world to take care of us. 

It took a solid 6 weeks out of the hospital to become more of a functioning adult and be able to somewhat take care of Ivy in my own. I think she was at least 2 months old before I spent a day alone with her. 

When my drains and IV came out I felt free! Finally feeling like I could do things on my own, and be the mom I wanted to be for so long. I was able to get back to work very part time and really focus on all the things that were important to me. I thrive off of people’s energy, so being able to do what I love made me feel so much stronger. 

This also kept me distracted from thinking too much about what our future would look like. 

As the months went on I got asked by several clients about my birth story, new clients asking if I wanted more kids, and friends who knew what happened asking for more details. As hard as it was to talk about it, somehow I was able to separate my feelings from the trauma, that could tell the story as if it was someone else's. I never really came to terms with the fact that this was my story and I needed to deal with my feelings. 

I think this was the reason I decided to come forward and share my story. I needed a way to cope with my feelings, and realize that this was my story and I need to embrace it and learn from it. 

Everything happens for a reason, I truly believe this. We don’t know our reason yet, and I still question it most days, but I know when the time comes, we will know what’s right for our family. 

I don’t want you to sit here and feel bad for me. I’m here to tell you that we made it! We’re strong, and shit happens. 

And that’s okay! This doesn't define me. But it shapes the woman I have become. 

Lastly, I don’t have any regrets. I believe I made the best decisions based on the knowledge I had at the time. I can’t constantly look back and say what if I would have done this? It would eat me alive. 

I hope my story can empower other women and mothers to know that they are not alone, and you do have the strength to keep moving forward! 

I’m so grateful to my community, friends, family, and strangers who donated time, money, thoughts, prayers etc. we wouldn’t be here with our you. 

Thank you for being here and supporting me. 

Much love and support, 

Lexi