We all have miracles happen in our lives...if we choose to acknowledge them.

The pains started about noon on Thursday, March 2^nd, 1984, and they were coming about 12 minutes apart.  We went to the hospital and they said I was not in labor.  Seriously?  I am 2 days overdue and the pains are horrible!  If this is not labor, what would that pain feel like?

Later that night, the pains were getting worse and closer together.  So, we decided to go back to the hospital.  This time they kept me.  This is where my journey as a mother and my son’s life journey began.

Bradley with his maternal grandmother and maternal great-grandfather

Robert Bradley Hall would not be born until Monday, March 5^th, 1984.  It was a LONG weekend.  I ended up delivering him by Caesarean Section and was put to sleep for the procedure.  So, when I woke up in my room, the first thing I wanted to see was my baby boy.  Instead, a pediatric physician entered my room, and in front of many family members, he said, “Your son was born with a birth defect.  His esophagus grew up from his stomach, but is not connected to the esophagus growing down from his throat.  He will need surgery immediately to connect his esophagus together.  We can’t do the surgery here, so he will be taken by ambulance to Saint Joseph Hospital in Lexington, KY.”

I just looked at the doctor in shock.  I had no words.  And, if you know me…you know that is a rare thing. I was exhausted, and this news just completely broke me down emotionally.  Finally, words came out. “Will my baby be ok?”  The doctor said as far as he could see, Robert was healthy in every other way, so he should be fine.  I then said, “We are calling him Bradley…he will be called by his middle name.”  The doctor smiled and said if I had any other questions, he would be down the hall.

It wasn’t long until I saw the ambulance leaving the parking lot of the hospital from the window near my bed.  I was not able to go with him because of my surgery.  It would be six days later that I would see my son for the first time.

My insurance forced me to stay in a maternity ward with 3 other women.  So, while my baby was off enduring a life-saving surgery, I would be watching 3 new mothers feed and cuddle their babies.  It was almost unbearable.  The other mothers were so sympathetic to my situation.  They would bring their babies over for me to hold, and as caring as that was, I think it made things harder.  I wanted to hold MY baby.

Later that evening, a Saint Joseph nurse called to say he was out of surgery and it was a success!  She also added he had pooped all over her…and that was a good thing!  It meant he had no intestinal blockages, which is a rare thing for babies born with this birth defect. 

I was so relieved, and slept the best that night than I had slept in days.  It would be the next day before I would hear what Bradley had actually gone through.

Yes, Bradley’s surgery was a success, but not until God stepped in.  When Bradley first came out of surgery, dye had to be run down his esophagus to make sure there were no pinhole leaks where the esophagus was joined together.  As the dye entered this area, it gushed into his lungs and he was rushed back into surgery.  At the same time, many of our family churches were in prayer for my son. Let me tell you, God listens!  As they got Bradley back into surgery to correct the leaks, no leaks could be found.  The dye was run down his esophagus again, and not even a pinhole leak existed. 

The surgeon, Dr. Belin, could not explain it.  He said, “Something happened between this floor and the surgery room.”  The only thing that could have happened was that my son was healed by an even greater physician.  Bradley was healed through the miracle of our Lord, Jesus Christ.

I knew when I heard this news the Lord had a plan for our son. 

Bradley with his maternal grandmother and grandfather

Bradley eating his first birthday cake

Bradley playing Hide and Go Seek

Bradley would endure problems from another birth defect found as he was an adult.  This defect caused his spine to continue growing up into his brain stem.  However, after years of MRIs and visits to the University of Kentucky Hospital, his neurologist believes the spine finally quit growing and the condition should not get worse than where it is currently.  He does suffer with some back and neck pain from this condition, but he should be able to live a normal life. 

However, we do believe this condition had something to do with the development of a stutter at the age of 18.  This stutter has been a difficult thing for Bradley to deal with.  Speaking on the phone, or ordering food through a drive-thru restaurant can be challenging for him, but his faith is strong!  He leads his family with Christian values and is truly an example of how I want to live my life.

Me and Brad

Brad and his beautiful bride, Carmen

Brad and his siblings...and his niece, Sophie

  

Bradley may not have the ability to minister from a podium, but he has a strong ministry.  Bradley is an amazing writer, and each week, he writes a Christian column about how he handles everyday life through analogies of the world today and stories from the Bible.  These columns have made an impact in my life, and I hear quite often how they have touched the lives of others.  And, thanks to social media, we can share these columns all over the world.   

Brad (left) holding some of his Kentucky Press Association Awards

My handsome son



Did I mention Brad was awesome at Photoshop?

Yes, bad things happen.  My son was born with birth defects.  But, my son shines in the eyes of the Lord regardless.  He was/is perfect!

God had a plan for my son, and I believe this plan is far from over. 

If you would like to read one of Brad’s columns, try using the link below:
 http://www.thetimestribune.com/opinion/hall-things-considered-the-day-saturday-morning-cartoons-died/article_9e2e389e-1556-11e5-a8fa-373adda33e79.html

May your hot flashes be mild and your wrinkles even milder.
Kim York

Sissy that is not how you bait shrimp on a hook

 

“Sissy that is not how you bait shrimp on a hook.”  This is how the conversation started.

Early this month, my husband, Tim, and I went on a beach vacation to the Outer Banks in North Carolina.  And, my favorite thing to do at the beach is to fish off the pier.   So, the first morning we were there, I got up early, grabbed my tackle box and said, “Let’s go fishing!”  I was so excited!

                                            

After about an hour of fishing, an older man sitting on the bench next to me saw I was not catching anything.  So, he decided to step in and help.  The first thing he said was that I was not baiting my shrimp on the hook correctly.  He said I needed to shell the shrimp, cut it in half, and then put the hook through the top end of the shrimp, push it back on the hook, twist it, and then thread the bottom of the shrimp on the hook.  Evidently, that was only one of many things I was doing wrong. 

So, now I knew how to bait my hook.  I then proceeded to cast my line out into the ocean.  The man simply hung his head and shook it as if he were completely appalled at what I had just done.  I reluctantly said, “Did I do that wrong?”  He lifted his head…looked directly out to the ocean and kept shaking his head side to side.  I said, “I guess I did?”  He turned his head toward me and said, “Sissy, how long have you been fishing?”  I said, “All my life.”  He asked if I ever caught much.  My thought in the moment was that I didn’t like this guy much.  He looked like a vagrant, smelled like fish, and was really annoying.   I looked over to my husband, hoping he would save me from this man, but he was reading his book and paying absolutely no attention to what was going on. Uh huh. So, I looked at the man and said, “No, I really never catch many fish.”  Then I felt like hanging my head.  I just know Tim was listening and laughing under his breath. 

  

“Well Sissy, let me show you how to cast out your line.”  No one had called me Sissy, except one good friend…and my dad before he died.  I wasn’t sure if he meant it sarcastically or if he was trying to be endearing?  Either way I didn’t like it.  So, I said, “My name is Kim.”  He said, “Ok, my name is Jim.”  So, there we all were…Kim, Tim and now Jim.  I said, “It’s nice to meet you.”

 I lied. 

Jim then proceeded to show me how to cast out my line underhanded from the pier.  This made me really nervous.  I felt like I was going to throw my pole in the water.  But, after about 15 tries and a lot of head shaking by Jim, I had figured it out…and I was quite proud.  You would have thought I had won an Oscar!  I was standing tall and proud on the pier! 

But, as if someone stole the Oscar right out of my hands, I wasn’t feeling quite as proud when Jim said, “Ok, you got the line in the water…what do you do now?”  I said, “Wait?”  He rolled his eyes.  I guess that was not the right answer.  He proceeded to say, “Fishing is a sport.  If you wait, you will not catch fish.  You should always be playing the sport.”  I told Jim that evidently I did not know how to play.  He said, “Lift your pole up until you feel the weight of your leader.”  So, I did this…and almost immediately I could feel the fish nibbling at the bait.  I jerked the pole up and caught the fish.  It was only about an 8 inch mullet, but it was a fish all the same.  I was so excited …again!

But, as I expected, Jim took away my joy.  He said, “When you pull back on the pole to catch a fish, you can’t let it drop back down.  You will lose the fish.”  

That should be easy enough...or so I thought. 

So, I baited my shrimp, casted out my line, held it up to feel the weight, felt the fish bite and jerked back on the pole…only to drop it back down.  I knew I had failed the test immediately.  So, I looked over at Jim and said, “I need practice.”  He said, “Yeah.” 

But, at this point, I started catching fish…it was awesome!   I was even catching some really interesting stuff like eels and crabs.

 

And, Jim seemed genuinely excited for me…he actually smiled!  We started talking and he told me his wife had died several years earlier, and he was alone most of the time.  He said he fished as often as he could to keep his mind occupied.  He loved the guys who fished at the pier, and he loved to eat fish…so it was a win, win for Jim.   

Everyone at the pier seemed to love Jim too.  No one could pass him by without saying hello or asking him how many fish he had caught that day.  It was in that moment I realized how much Jim reminded me of my dad.  Everyone loved my dad, and he too would drop his head when he was trying to teach me something...and I just couldn’t get it.  He would often follow the head shaking with the words, “Oh boy!”   I never heard Jim say, “Oh boy,” but I know with my heart of hearts he was thinking it. 

I teared up and kept on fishing.  This was something Dad and I loved to do together.  And for one evening, on a pier in North Carolina, I had him back. 

                                    I caught over 30 fish that week.

May your hot flashes be mild and your wrinkles even milder!
Kim York

Santa Claus is coming to town…Oh wait…he’s already here!

I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus…in August!  Literally.

For the last few years, I have dreaded to see Christmas rear its ugly head.  Only because Christmas is not the Christmas I knew growing up.  Honoring the birth of our Lord and Savior, who gives us life, has turned into the honoring of a man in a red suit who brings us lots of “stuff.”  It’s sad.

And, not only do we honor this man in a red suit, but we start honoring him in the heat of summer!  I walked into Cracker Barrel 2 weeks ago and Christmas decorations were everywhere!  And, when I say Christmas decorations, I should say Santa decorations.  I saw very little, if any, Christian décor, except for some angels.  And, I think that was only because they are pretty.  Cracker Barrel even had the station set up to do gift wrapping.  Really? 

 

And yesterday I walked into Hobby Lobby, where “This is My Father’s World” was playing as I looked at religious pictures and decorative crosses.  I was feeling the Lord’s presence and singing along to the music, when I looked up and saw Santa staring me right in the face.  His smile was wicked.  I swear I heard him say, “I will get you, my pretty, and your little dog too. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”  All while his face was turning a nuclear shade of green! 

Do I have to endure 5 months of this? 

And, of course, there will be the after Christmas clearance sales extending this torture for another whole month.  Think about it…over 1/3 of the year dedicated to Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer and his merry henchmen. I don’t think I can stand it this year.

And, to take this even further…you don’t have to physically go in a store to be bombarded by Santa “Claws.”  My inbox is also blowing up with emails about early Christmas shopping.  Yes, every email claims I can save up to 50%...if I shop early.  I don’t want to shop early!  I don’t want to see the emails yet!

Am I the only one who feels this way?  I mean, if they put this “stuff” out there so early, it must be because people buy it??  Right?? What are your thoughts?  Do you like the Christmas “season” as it is now-a-days?  Chime in and share your perspective.

Merry Christmas everyone!

May your hot flashes be mild and your wrinkles even milder.
Kim York

Menopausal Moms of Kentucky: Why, yes, I will take the student discount.

Menopausal Moms of Kentucky: Why, yes, I will take the student discount.: By Mary Meehan Menopausal Mom,  I'm the one addicted to Hallmark Holiday Movies Let it be known that I have received my f...

Why, yes, I will take the student discount.

By Mary Meehan

Menopausal Mom, I'm the one addicted to Hallmark Holiday Movies

Let it be known that I have received my first student discount since 1986.

The guy at the hardware store made a point to ask every Co-Ed in the store if she knew about the discount. Strange, he didn't ask me.

But I do have a student ID....one from Harvard. I was kind of giddy when I got it. I know it gets me into Harvard's libraries. Although, I think it has some other perks.....like signing up for Harvard classes... but it also saved me 90 cents on a curtain rod. 

My Nieman Fellowship starts officially tomorrow with the first of 10 days of orientation. I'll keep you posted as to what all I become orientated to. 

So far, on my own I've learned these things about Cambridge. 

There are a lot of coffee shops. It seems to hurt the barista's souls if you put cream and sugar in their coffee because apparently it overwhelms the notes of caramel or hibiscus or nutmeg or treebark or whatever. One had me watch him pour the coffee through a filter as if it was a magical experience. I wasn't sure whether or not to applaud. When he wasn't looking I put in both cream and sugar. But tomorrow I will gaze upon my Mr. Coffee as it perks to see if it enhances my coffee experience. 

I've learned how to manage the subway. Here it is called the T. At the station nearest my house it might stand for Terribly Far Underground. Here are the stairs and the escalator. 

Some people have perfected a way of running down the escalator that involves leaning back slightly. I have not seen anyone run up. I tend to stand and ride. 

The weather has been in the mid-80s to mid 90s I need to conserve energy for the walking that follows the ride.

In seven days I have almost gotten on the wrong train twice. I have twice followed directions to a particular place only to find that it wasn't really there and I've missed my stop once. Not bad, I'd say.
Especially for a person who once ended up on the wrong Florida coast while trying to go to the beach.

As far as the walking goes, I've learned that SalonPas doesn't really work, Alleve does and my walking shoes where a good investment.  

Here is the other thing I've learned. People are very nice if you ask politely and look harmless. I unwittingly asked an intoxicated hooker for directions on my first subway trip. She gave very good directions.

My mailman, Joe, stopped his route to come inside and show me which mail box was mine. When I said I was from Kentucky he said he'd never heard anyone say that before. One of my fellow fellows from the Netherlands said he knows Kentucky mostly from music and it seems like a fantasy to him. I'm not sure what music he is listening too, I've got Florida-Georgia Line on Pandora and there is a lot of beer drinking and bad white boy rapping...but he meant it sincerely and Kentucky is a beautiful place.

I miss it. I miss my daughter. I miss my friends and family. I miss people saying "ya'll" like the one syllable word it is meant to be.

But I'm here, it's official. I've got the ID to prove it and I can't wait to see what it brings me more than 10 percent off.  This is the Lippmann House. It is home base for the Nieman Fellows. It looks pretty beautiful, too.

Shout out to Albania and Croatia!

 Menopausal Moms of Kentucky has readers in 46 countries and counting. Moms and Menopause are Universal!

I've made it to Cambridge and maybe back to badassery

My hometown is Georgetown, Ky. There are about 36,000 people in the whole county and probably and equal number of cows and acres of tobacco. If I would venture a guess, I'd say there is a Ford Ram Truck for every 1.7 people, although that estimate might be low.

Sometimes on the way to work I get stuck behind farm equipment and have to go 2 miles an hour.

My fellowship was a complete moon shot. I stumbled forward through the application fueled by frustration. The newspaper business I love was dying from decades of self-inflicted wounds. I loved my job but it hurt my heart to go into that office everyday without a path to making things better.

Oh, and I turned 50. No further explanation needed there, right?

And much, much to my surprise I got it. There was a moment in the interview when they asked me what I would bring to the fellowship. I said I'd been told Kentucky was pretty much fly over country. That for folks at Harvard it was the same as Kansas or Mississippi or Tennessee.

I said I hoped I would show the other fellows that someone from Kentucky could be insightful, progressive, passionate, intelligent....the list went on for a bit. No one was more surprised than me to hear those words  come out of my mouth. But I felt in that moment something I haven't felt in a long time....I was once kind of a bad ass. I looked at possibilities and believed I could make them realities. I told my fellow Menopausal Mom I was ready to get back some of that badassery.

When I finished my list of attributes I made a joke like "wow, I just said an awful lot of nice things about myself."

And everybody laughed. Me too. But, for once, I believed those nice things I said about myself. I also instantly felt the need to hug everybody but, mostly, I restrained myself.


So now I yearn to make the most of this once in a lifetime opportunity....I feel like I should be thinking big thoughts but so far have noticed that Cambridge seems filled with that carefully messy hair trend that is the...Man Bun

Shout out to Serbia, Bosnia & Herzegovina and Croatia. Menopausal Moms has been read in 45 countries and counting. Menopause is Universal.

Bend and snap! Mary is on her way to Harvard!

I dropped her off at the airport around 8:00am.  She cried, and then I cried!  (I didn’t let her see it though…I sat in my car five minutes drying tears before I could pull out.)  I am sad, but so excited for her to make this adventure!

 

You see, the day has finally arrived.  My fellow Menopausal Mom, Mary Meehan, is making her way to the big city of Boston to represent Kentucky as a Nieman Fellow.  This is huge!  You can read about it here:
http://nieman.harvard.edu/alumni/current-fellows/

 

And, I realize she is a bundle of emotions today.  I mean, seriously…she is saying goodbye to her daughter for a while, and she had to find temporary homes for her pets.  And, she is flying to a new city, to stay in a new apartment, where she will attend classes and meet lots of new people and do lots of exciting things.  Holy Crap!  Happy.  Sad.  Blessed.  Scared.  Pee-in-your-pants want to scream excited!

All that I can say is, “Wow!”  Mary has always been a great friend, but now I see her as a role model for me and all women of our “age range.”  How many menopausal moms would pack up their lives and move away for a year to do something meaningful, fun, and exciting??  I would be scared to death! 

But, Mary has me thinking more about climbing outside of my box.  Yes, my box is deep…but my husband has a big ole ladder I can borrow anytime!  And, it’s taking that first step that can be the hardest!  I remember how difficult it was for Mary just to complete the application to be a Nieman Fellow.  And, once she completed that process, her self-confidence grew leaps and bounds.

Now she is on her way.  She actually just texted to say the wheels were up (8:38am.)  OMG!  She is actually doing this!  So, I have to show Mary what she is doing is an inspiration…that she has definitely inspired me to do something adventurous.  

Mary, if you are invited to a party...be sure to ask if costumes will be worn.

Many of you know I am severely claustrophobic.  This fear limits my life.  I have never flown in an airplane because I do not want to be trapped in a big silver coffin. (That is what my head is saying to me.)  But, this keeps me from seeing the world.  And, the ironic part is that my son works for American Airlines…guess who could be flying practically free?  Yep…ME!  So, conquering this fear and getting on a plane would be huge for both me and my family. 

Mary, you have inspired me to get the counseling I need to conquer this fear and fly!  Holy crap…I am going to do this!

What about you?  Do you want to step out of your box and do something exciting?  Do you think you are too old?  Tell us what you would do if you could climb out of your box and be adventurous.  

May your hot flashes be mild and your wrinkles even milder.
Kim York