by Heather Hrobsky aka Wrigley
Hi, my name is Heather! I want to share with you a story–my story. In December 2015, as a thirty-five-year-old woman with a two-year-old daughter, Isabella, I loved being a stay-at-home mom and wife. It was a dream come true for me! In fact, I was also pregnant with my second child, a baby boy. Life seemed to be going well for my husband and me.
On December 28, 2015, I went into the hospital to have a scheduled C-section to give birth to our son, Elijah. Just hours after my son was born, my obstetrician came to my room and told my husband and I that the blood work taken before the C-section seemed to show that I had leukemia. We were stunned. We cried. I did not want to hold my baby anymore, so that I would not get attached to him, but who was I fooling? I was attached as soon as I found out that I was pregnant. He was my son–prayed for, loved, mine.
As testing was being done to confirm the type of leukemia, my husband Chris and I were busy praying, talking, crying, and planning. We had no idea what we were doing. That lost feeling stayed with us for quite some time. We were about to embark on a journey not only of becoming a family of four and helping our daughter adjust to being a big sister, but of doing this all while I was sick, going through treatment, and possibly dying.
We began by contacting some good friends of ours from church, Mike and Becky, to see if they would take care of our newborn son. We thought it would be easier to find someone to take care of a two-year-old than a newborn, and I really wanted Becky to take care of him, as she is an amazing mom of four and like a big sister to me. Mike and Becky both said they would take care of Elijah, our daughter, and even our dog. How amazing! We were and are still so very thankful.
January 3, 2016-last picture taken before treatment began.
When Elijah was a week old, I began my first treatments at Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago, Illinois. Mike and Becky took our kids into their home and loved them, juggling work, family, and homeschooling. Becky even took Elijah to his first doctor’s appointment and gave him his first bath outside of the hospital. While I was so thankful that my kids were being taken care of so well, it hurt my heart to not be with them. It felt like torture, or what I could imagine as such, to my momma’s heart to be away from my one-week-old and my two-year-old. Over the next six months, I also had moms from the area, some I knew, and some I met through Facebook, who donated breastmilk to me, so that I could use it to help my son grow and thrive.
I was in and out of the hospital for doctor appointments and hospital stays for the next five months. All of my treatments were inpatient, lasting about five days at a time with eight days in-between each cycle. Mike and Becky watched our children three of those times, and another church family and my sister-in-law watched them another time. I could not have done it without them. People from our church brought food and gift cards to restaurants for us to buy food, as I did not have much strength and energy to prepare food. It was such a blessing and help! Friends came over to play with my daughter and picked her up for playdates. My mother-in-law came from Wisconsin to help take care of us. I had a very special friend, Alesha, who would come sit and talk with me when I was so scared, not knowing if the next day when I went for treatments would be the last time I would see my children. She also would bring meals and come clean my house. These people, my friends, helped me with things I could not do by myself.
Four and a half months after diagnosis, I headed to the hospital for my stem cell transplant with stem cells donated to me by an anonymous donor from Spain. We were told that this hospital stay would be at least a month, but could be longer, if there were any complications. There was no way of knowing. It was really just a day-by-day thing. Mike and Becky, who had previously cared for my kids, had moved out-of-state. I had no idea who would take care of my kids. What a terrible feeling it is when you, as a mother, cannot take care of your own children! That’s what we do; we take care of our family, but I could not. Thankfully, my mother from Virginia moved in, living with us for six months to help me when I could not be a mother alone.
During this whole time, my husband had a job where he could work anywhere with an internet connection, allowing him to go with me to the hospital and to stay with me during each hospital stay. He was my rock. My advocate. I was struggling mentally during this time, feeling so overwhelmed. So, he also took care of scheduling my appointments, filling prescriptions, and speaking with my doctors. I could not have done this whole journey without him. He worked full-time and still took such good care of me and our two sweet little ones. Besides my faith and trust in my Lord, my husband was the main one that helped me get through this hard time.
Thankfully, after a month in the hospital, I was released to go home. Having a stem cell transplant leads to many restrictions. For example I could not use cleaners to clean my house. I could not change diapers, which was incredibly hard since I had a five-month-old son and a daughter who was not yet completely potty trained. I could not even be in the sun, which was also hard when my two-and-a-half year-old girl wanted to play outside during the summertime. These are things that a mother is supposed to do for her family. Honestly, I felt like a failure. I had to do the opposite of motherhood. Instead of putting my children first, I had to put myself first for my health and safely. That is not what a mother does, and it was so hard to live this way for a time.
As I continued to recover, we continued to have help and support from friends and family. Family from Virginia came to visit and to help. They gave a sense of normalcy for my daughter that I could not give by taking her to the park and the pool. I could not have healed, recovered, and taken care of my family without the help I received from my friends and family. I dislike the phrase “It takes a village.” I’d rather say, “It takes a family.” While that family looks different for everyone, for me, it was my blood family, my married-into family, my church family, and my friends. Nine years out from my stem cell transplant, I still get support and encouragement from these family and friends, as well as from some new friendships I’ve made and rekindled along the way. I am so very thankful that I had the support I had. And, I’m determined to support others asI was, when I am needed.
