My new life- CLEAN EATING!

Many of you have followed my posts on Facebook with my journey on a so called "detox" since giving birth to Abel. I've posted pictures of yummy food and bragged about losing thirty pounds. As a mother of three now, this last time was the hardest to lose weight. Now 30 years old, I've come to terms with my ever-changing body. As a younger woman, millions of fat burning hormones circled through my body so the need for "working out" or "eating healthy" didn't matter. I could eat a whole meal at Taco Bell and just skip dinner to make myself better because my body was burning the fat for me. I didn't have the urge to work out or eat healthy because I was skinny, so to me, it didn't matter. Call me vain if you'd like, but I call it being vulnerable and truthful. Until I got cancer.
I'll never forget the day I decided to watch a documentary titled, "The Beautiful Truth." Shortly after I decided to announce my journey through cancer, I received an out pour of messages and support from people I never knew I had mattered to. One of these messages was telling me about food and the relation to cancer. At first I was ridiculously hesitant in watching it and seeing what the documentary entailed, but curiosity got the best of me. I'll never forget that night. EVER. It was a small mark on a BIG thing that changed me. I remember the way I felt when I watched it. I called my parents and I cried to them. I explained I felt like I had caused my own cancer and that it was my fault. I looked at my life as a whole, the entire 28 years of it before hand and felt overwhelmed. Had I really done it wrong this whole time?
There are many documentaries that explain food and it's role on our health. This particular documentary caught my attention because the first time in my LIFE I didn't feel helpless to a disease. This was something that personally affected me and I couldn't help but think they might be on to something. I further researched clean eating. MSG. Additives. Sugar. And I felt really overwhelmed. Not only was I eating these things, but I was feeding it to my own children. It was so much easier, at a time when I felt like the world was crashing down on me, to put it on the back burner and not think about it. "I LIKE my fast food. I DESERVE my chocolate cake. I will just skip a meal and still be skinny." These were all things I told myself to rationalize what I had seen and researched because I wasn't ready to deal with what I knew deep down inside. AND THAT WAS OKAY. 
Fast forward to present day. I was out to eat with my best friend at one of my favorite restaurants with the most delicious selections of pie. I'm talking like 40 different kinds to choose from. I have gone to this restaurant with her before and literally JUST ordered pie as our meal. ("It's okay to eat this, we will just skip a meal instead!") We order (I'm pregnant at the time) and she orders a bowl of fruit. Astounded, I ask her why she was eating rabbit food. (My common joke for eating healthy food.) She tells me she is on a "Paleo detox" so I ask her a little bit about it. I'm secretly rolling my eyes in the back of my head and thinking "Oh God, another famous beauty trend for everyone to fall for." 
I'd like to side note here to explain the personality of my best friend. She has never been the type of person to push her beliefs on anyone. She has never been loud, obnoxious or close minded. In fact, she's one of the most open minded, understanding people I have ever known. She's never liked the spot light or loads of attention (maybe that's why we get along perfectly?! lol) and she has always considered what someone has to say. I applauded her for her determination and considered it small talk, never to be brought up again. 
The next part I can not remember when it finally settled in. My best friend and I had met up several times after that lunch date when she had clued me in on her detox. I noticed her losing weight, but most of all I noticed a change in her attitude. Katie has always been one of my biggest inspirations, my constant reminder of the beautiful good there is in the world, and one of the only people who can keep me grounded when I feel lost or not myself. We consistently talk about fighting for our own happiness and not losing ourself in the world. We have both seen each other in sad, awful times, and have always picked each other up. And the one thing I couldn't deny was the change in the love for herself. 
We talked about her new diet and her weight loss. We talked about her new love for running and exercise. And we talked about her new energy and happiness. I analyzed what I had seen happen before my eyes and thought deeply about it. For someone who didn't want attention or wasn't pushy, she couldn't have been doing this diet for anyone else but herself. And it couldn't be just a fad, because I watched the transformation before my eyes. So this was something she did because she wanted to, and wanted to share in excitement the new love she had found for herself. Simply because she wanted me to feel it too.
I started to think about that night I watched the documentary that linked our food to our health. I thought about all that I wanted to accomplish and how overwhelming it was on where to start. But when I shared this with her, she promised to go shopping with me, share recipes with me, and promised it wasn't as expensive as I thought it would be. I told myself that I would try the 22 day Paleo detox and stick to it. After all, I was a United States Marine. What in the hell IS there that I can't accomplish? On November 4th, I started my Paleo detox. Katie sent me emails and recipes as promised and started the detox over again with me. 
The Paleo diet consists of eating food with no refined sugar. It consists of mostly fresh vegetables, fruit, meat, egg and nuts. There are many variations and debates on what is or isn't allowed, but www.thepaleodiet.com can summarize for you what should or shouldn't be consumed. The purpose of this blog is to understand the concept behind the Paleo diet and not necessarily adopting the same beliefs or eating habits. The 22 day Detox is aimed at helping figure out any allergies your body may have to certain foods and to help cleanse your body of the crap included in processed food. 
The hardest were the first 4 days. I had to switch from sugar in my coffee to just black. It took a solid four days, and it tasted perfectly fine to me. FOUR days! I have been drinking sugar in my coffee since I was 15! Initially I felt hungry a lot. I had to retrain my brain in thinking that bloated "pasta" feeling wasn't full and that I was full when I wasn't hungry! A lot of the time I wanted to munch on food because I didn't feel that overwhelming feeling of being bloated. 
After close to 2 weeks, I was hooked. I knew it was a new lifestyle for me and that I wouldn't ever go back to eating the way I had before. I had successfully changed my way of thinking (THE hardest thing to do when trying to change your eating habit in my opinion). The next thing to do was change the way my kids eat. Considering I have a child with a genetic disorder and behavior problems, this is the next biggest thing for me to conquer.
The Paleo diet not only helped me lose 30 pounds (of which would NOT come off after Abel was born despite how "good" I looked) but it helped me take control of my life. I can not begin to explain the thousands of benefits of clean eating, because I literally get so passionate about it and want to SCREAM why everyone in the world should do it. I have to remind myself that not everyone is ready to embark on this journey and not everyone wants to look in the mirror and face themselves. AND THAT IS OKAY. For those of you who have wondered about my journey and thought it might be something you wanted to try, this is for you.
Losing thirty pounds was the surface level benefit of clean eating. But included are the energy to WANT to do things, the happiness of being able to accomplish something I told myself I could never do, the fulfillment of changing my life and bettering my kids' lives and the pride I take in my body regardless of the reflection I see in the mirror. I don't focus on how skinny I am or what I "deserve to eat." I see the importance of feeding my body FUEL for life and nutrients to nourish it. Not only have I read this about clean eating, but I have experienced it myself. I don't ever ever ever get that bloated "fat" feeling like I did when I ate crap. I don't ever "feel" fat, even when I had only lost ten pounds. My entire body changed after I took responsibility for what I was putting in it. I am the one in charge of how it feels, and I am no longer a victim of society. I choose how I want it to feel, and if I don't always choose good, that's okay too! I'm not perfect and I won't ever be. But I wanted to share with you the love I have for my new life and outlook and to promise you that you can have that too. AND YOU DESERVE IT! 
A few documentaries (On Netflix) to check out, are:

The Beautiful Truth
Hungry for Change
Forks Over Knives

Food, Inc. 

These were the start to my curiosity in clean eating. I encourage you to check them out sometime, even if it is a lazy Sunday and NOTHING ELSE IS ON. :)

In closing, thank you for listening. I constantly struggle every day between shouting about this epiphany I had so that others can feel this happy too and telling myself to shut up because everyone will assume I'm bragging and boasting. If you need just ONE supporter to look into it, research it, or try it. I will be that person for you. 

Abel Thomas Fischer's Birth Story

It's been a while, my friends. But I want to share my experience of giving birth to my newest addition, Abel Thomas Fischer.

I can't forget the day I found out I was pregnant. I don't remember why I thought I should take a test, but I knew I had one lying around from years ago. Michael was in the living room with Colton and Lilianna, and I snuck away to the bathroom. I peed on the stick and couldn't believe my eyes. Shit. Seriously!? But I'm taking birth control. And I was just told a couple months ago that my ovaries weren't functioning. And that I probably couldn't have kids after chemo and being put through menopause! How is this possible? I quick tell Mike I need to run to the drug store and get medication for constipation. I run out and call my best friend. "Katie! You'll never guess what! I just took a test and it says I'm freaking pregnant! How is this possible? I'm on birth control. They said I couldn't have kids! Do you think it is a false reading after having chemo?" I searched the internet for answers while searching the store for more pregnancy tests. I stock up and head home, ready to have another go around with the pee stick. The results are in... pregnant.

"Kids... go upstairs and play. Mommy needs to talk to Mike."

I tell Mike to sit down and explain we need to talk. "Ummm okay?" He looks at me reluctantly.

"I'm pregnant." "You're joking with me, right?" He says. Knowing that it was damn near impossible for this to be true.

"No, I'm not joking. I took three tests."

"Alright then, here we go!" he says. And just like that. Our journey began!

It's August 21st, 2014. We check in to the hospital at 6 AM. Bags are packed, make up done, cameras ready. We've had a couple practice runs thinking it was labor time, so we were more than ready to get the show on the road. After much consideration, I finally asked the Doctor to schedule to be induced. She was hesitant knowing my platelet count was on the low side and the possibility of no epidural was at chance. But I insisted I didn't want to wait any longer, especially knowing he was already a big baby. She explained to me at our last couple doctor appointments that she would give me Pitocin which would cause strong painful contractions and could make it harder on me for delivery, especially with no epidural. At my final visit, I knew it was time. I knew I had to meet him, and that regardless of my platelet count the day of delivery, I would be able to get through it.

The nurse hooks me up to the monitors and draws my blood. We await the results of my platelet count to see if I am eligible for an epidural. (Most Doctors won't administer an epidural if your platelets are under 100, and my last test revealed a 94.) I crossed my fingers as we waited for an answer to see if there was any chance they had gone up and I would get the epidural I so gladly appreciated with Colton and Lilianna. The results were in and my platelets were at a 73. The Doctor came in apologizing for the bad news and asked if I was ready to proceed. I had taken my mother's advice and read a few "natural birthing" books to prepare myself and was sure I was ready to take this all on.

7:30 A.M. and the nurse started the Pitocin. Mike and my friend Lauren kept me company as we waited for things to get rolling. The contractions started almost immediately after the meds did, but on and off around five minutes apart. The Doctor checked my cervix at the start of things and I was a "stretchy two" she called it. (A new running joke between us three now!) I wasn't thinning and baby's head was still a little high, so we hoped for the Pitocin to speed things up. The contractions mimicked what I felt with Colton and Lilianna with my epidural. They felt like severe period cramps that came and went, or as I explained to Mike, like "growing pains" you get in your teens. They were manageable and I was still able to entertain myself on my phone as well as through jokes with Lauren and Mike. The doctor returned around noon and not much had changed. I was around 3 cm and still not effacing, and the baby's head was still a little high. She explained that his head needed to come down before she could break my water because of risk of infection. She promised to return again around 3 P.M. and see if things were progressing. The contractions became a little more consistent but didn't increase much in strength. Mike's father and best friend, and Abel's soon to be Godfather came to visit and keep me company. I was surrounded by positivity, hospitality and sarcasm at it's finest. A perfect setting for myself indeed. :)

It was 2:50 P.M. and Dr. Murphy returned. I anxiously awaited the results of the newest progression in my cervix. I prayed things progressed and she could break my water, so that baby Abel could finally make his appearance. "3 cm, the head is low and you are starting to thin out. I think it's time to break your water." A huge sigh of relief came from all of us, as she took the plastic hook and got the party started. As water flew from down under, the Dr. laughed at the sight of her scrubs, now completely soaked. My belly felt so much lighter already and I knew that the end was near.

At 3:15 P.M. Active labor started. The contractions got stronger in intensity and longer in duration. Now around 2-3 minutes apart, I knew that this meant he would be born soon. The doctor had given me the option of IV pain medication during labor to help with relaxing through the process. Although it wouldn't change the intensity of the contraction or the pain of pushing, it would help me rest in between. As soon as active labor started, I called the nurse to start the pain medication. I rocked my body from side to side as I waited for the medication to take effect, and as soon as it hit me I was overwhelmed. I didn't like it. My body felt tingly and warm and my brain felt like it was spinning. A couple of seconds into it, and I felt better. Relaxed. 

The contractions started to get very very strong. Stronger than I ever felt with my other pregnancies and the epidurals. I felt them radiate through my whole body as I rocked around and sang out loud each time one came. Mike and Lauren took turns with labor duties. One held my hand as I squeezed with all my might while the other one rubbed my legs and feet during the contractions- but only from the knee down. 

Mike made me laugh and held me when I cried. He joked about Abel saying goodbye to his amoeba friends in the womb. "Harry it was great getting to know you, good luck with Sally. I hope things work out." "Amber I'll never forget you. Please don't forget me." I laughed thinking about it and cried when the next contraction came. I told them both they were amazing and perfect and I couldn't be doing this without them.

5:00 came and I begged for more medicine. The contractions were a minute apart and lasting almost a whole minute. The medicine helped me relax with the 20 or so seconds I had between them, and I focused on serenity and peace. I imagined my cervix opening and Abel coming through easily. When I caught myself crying from the immensity of contractions, I sang out loud to myself "I can't cry, I can't cry." It was as a reminder to myself that I was a warrior and a fighter and tough as balls, but also that crying could make me tense up and cause the cervix to get inflamed (or so I read.) I took each contraction as a mission to accomplish. I would catch myself getting caught up in the pain and force myself out of it by imagining serenity and letting my body go weak. The touches on my leg from Lauren and the sweet words of Michael telling me I could do it reminded me of who I was and what I was here to do. But most of all, I pictured my Mom. I knew she had my brother and I with no epidural, and I knew I could do it too. I was part of history- of millions of women who had given their all to create life and I was a part of something bigger. 

5:15 and I told Mike to go get the Doctor. I felt like it was time to push. I could feel his head at the edge of my cervix, and it was heavy. The doctor came in and checked me. Earlier I was at a 6, and now I was at an 8/9. She explained that I was completely thinned out with the exception of one part, and if I switched positions she thought that his head might fit through. I turned on my left side and as soon as I did, I felt the most immense pain I have ever felt in my life. I hope I never forget this moment in my life, as it was an epiphany I have never ever experienced. I felt his head glide downward and it felt like a million pounds of steel resting on the wall of my vagina. I was struck with disbelief and amazement, as I had never imagined the way that this would feel. I yelled to the Doctor that I had to push, NOW. She told me to turn and asked me to bend at the knees with my feet in the air and push. As I did, she said, "Alright let's have this baby!" and put on her gear to suit up.

From this point forward, everything I read or prepared myself for went out the door. As the head of the baby, which felt like 100 pounds, sat on the edge of my vagina, I couldn't help but push. Up until this point in my life, I never really understood what that meant when women said they had the "urge" to push. And at this moment, I finally realized what they meant. If someone would have come up to me and suggested a game of tag "you're it" and I could leave the whole situation, I would have. All I wanted was to opt out- go back- and not do this. But I sat there, with a pain comparable to knives slicing me open, and actually WANTED to push for more. Maybe it's the gravity that makes you want it. You actually want nothing of it while going through it. But there's that mysterious "urge" that makes you want to push forward. I pushed with all I had, and for the first time ever, felt it ALL. I felt it open and Abel's head come through. I felt it when his head was through and I knew I still had the wideness of his shoulders and the whole length of his body yet to go. I looked up at the ceiling and asked God to take me away and do it for me, as I felt like my whole body was numb from the pain of contractions and knives and fire. I pushed with all of my might when all I wanted was to run away. But I had to. And I did. And it was the worst and best thing of my life.

5:39 P.M. and Abel Thomas Fischer makes his way into the world. Mike's face lights up with love and admiration and I try to find my way back down to the ground. I'm floating, in air, and in disbelief of what I had just done. 8 lbs, 12 ounces and 20 inches long. I hear his cry and I'm brought back down to earth. They wipe him off and hand him to me, skin to skin and we connect. My baby. My life. I created you and fought for you. I will protect you and love you and never let you down. Mike and I look at each other, kiss, and embrace the love and life we are surrounded in. An aurora of love and peace, and of perfection.

And this.... This is EXACTLY what life is all about. 

BANANAS!

Bananas. I've said it on more than one occasion in my life because I've found this to be the norm for me. Remember the Gwen Stenfani song? "This SHIT is bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S!" My LIFE is bananas. 

I'm just one of those types of people that crazy stupid things happen to, either to teach me a lesson or to amuse me. Or maybe it's to share it with the world so I can be a little amusement in someone's day of bullshit. And I'm not talking about the kind of bananas like "my life is so hard" or "I get dealt the WORST hand of cards ever ever ever." I'm talking like straight mushy, rotten, smelly bananas like all ya can do is laugh that it just never ends. I even got a tattoo on my ankle of a banana. And ya wanna know the crazy part? My life is SO freaking bananas that the tattoo artist FUCKED UP the banana! I'm talking I precisely went over what to do, the coloring and shape and all, and the guy starts drawing pink blobs outside of the banana. "Um what is that?" I ask. "Oh I'm just adding color to make it stand out." "Okay, well I don't want a pink blob outside of the banana to make it stand out." 

So at this point, I have pink ink blobbed all outside the banana, its irreversible and I have NO idea what to do. Then he starts to make STARS out of the blob. "I can make these stars so it looks like something." What the HELL do stars have to do with bananas!? "Ummm okay I guess." 

After he finishes my tattoo, I go to my friends house (in North Carolina) and tell her the story. "Let's go have it fixed," we decide. I get to the tattoo shop and they look down at my left ankle. It's twice the size as my right, bright red, and quite frankly just LOOKS infected... Well, because it has PINK BLOBS all around it. They say they want nothing to do with it because it is infected. Understandable. Then one guy tells me to go to soak the tattoo in epsom salt and it will come right out. I say, "Yeah right." I know what you are thinking. There's NO way I'm that gullible, right? But then the other guy says, "Yeah we have a lot of people that get a tattoo and go swimming in the ocean and it just comes right out." So I think, whats the worse that could happen? Well soaking an open wound in SALT, in HOT WATER mind you, isn't exactly pleasant. And considering I was on vacation, it didn't exactly add to the fun. In fact, it felt like getting a tattoo for three days straight. Yes, I did soak it for three days. However, contrary to my belief, it did not come out.

I decide a year later it's time to try and have it fixed. I go to my boyfriend (at the time)'s favorite tattoo artist. We draw up a REALLY awesome cover up for it. There are vines around it covering the pink blobs and even a "chaquita" sticker in the middle. I spend 300 dollars to get it fixed and it takes him FOUR hours. He doesn't even finish it and tells me that cover up tattoos can sometimes take more than one or two times. I'm thinking, "I can't afford that many times!" Regardless, I am stoked I am finally getting it fixed. 

Three days later, the tattoo comes out. I stayed out of the sun, I stayed out of the water and pools, and I applied tattoo cream multiple times a day. The tattoo I actually WANT to stay in, comes out. Go figure. At this point, I learn a valuable lesson. Bananas. The best word I can describe my life. The kind of stuff you just can't possibly make up because it's just too ridiculous. And sometimes, there is just nothing you can do but laugh about it and move on.

And so, I did. My half done tattoo remains. And I won't ever change it. It's a constant reminder that no matter how hard we try to make life go right, crazy shit is thrown our way that we just gotta take with a grain of salt and move on. 

To chemo, and BEYOND!

I feel a huge weight on my shoulders. I feel a tremendous amount of guilt for not keeping up with my blog during some of the hardest parts of this journey: Chemo. 

Can't exactly explain why I didn't keep up. I know I fought tooth and nail to be normal. I fought to live a normal life aside from chemo, losing my hair, losing friends, transitioning through relationships and missing work. A part of me wanted to pretend that life was normal and I was unaffected. Fake it til you make it, right? The funny thing is, anytime I got too ahead of myself and just when I thought things were normal, God would find a way of humbling me. Soooo many times I fought against sickness or pain to be somewhere important to me. I would get ready to leave and as I was walking down the stairs, I would get light headed and almost faint. I'd sit down in huge disappointment that I couldn't do what I wanted to do, and feel sorry for myself that I couldn't be normal. It plays into the whole "you appreciate your health the moment you start getting sick" thing. You know what I mean? You're laying there miserable on the couch, not able to breath cuz your nose is stuffy. Your throat is so sore you can't even talk. Your head is pounding so bad you can't even see straight or think straight. And suddenly you are given this thought of how great it felt to not feel that way. The whole 'you appreciate what you have when you don't have it' thing. 

I DO regret not blogging more. I think a big part of me kept inside the hurt and struggles I went through to myself and only those close to me, mostly because it was very hard for me to take on. It's hard to share what chemo is like, because not even the people literally sitting next to your side the ENTIRE time (Kelly!) never really knew how it felt. 

I spent SO much time trying to come up with ways to describe it. Granted it affects everyone differently, I do believe it also affects us emotional very much the same. Losing my hair was rough. Waking up with no hair, no eyelashes, no eye brows and feeling beautiful? Nearly impossible. Feeling good about yourself when yourself literally doesn't feel good? VERY hard to do. But you know what? It humbled me. It taught me that even when we want something soooooo bad, God may not want it for us. Even if I tried to get ready to go out and be there for someone, I physically may not have been able to do so. As someone who strived to be there for every person that ever needed me, it was very very very hard for me to learn to choose my health first. The many times I didn't, I ended up making things worse and even got myself in the hospital for five days. When you think you feel like a million bucks, you have to remember that there's hardly any functioning blood cells in your body so you can not accomplish a lot of what you used to be able to. It's kind of like when you give blood and they make you sit down, eat cookies and drink juice to make sure your blood sugar is at a stable level before you leave. The feeling you get right after if you don't eat or don't listen to them when they ask to not do anything strenuous right after. (Like rip out an entire rug by yourself, that I unfortunately had to learn the hard way!)

I've gone through a whole hell of a lot since I last talked to you. To the people who never left my side, THANK YOU. To the people who fought with me through this journey and held me up when I was weak, I won't ever forget it. To the relationships I lost over it, I'm sorry. I learned that life is short and it's not worth it to waste time with the wrong people. I learned that I don't owe anyone anything. That it's okay to put myself first sometimes even if it hurts someone else. I have had to deal with hurting people I love because I had to choose myself first, and it hasn't been easy. I've let go of things that used to hurt me or weigh me down, because now it's finally time to fly. No more looking back with regret, no more guilt for the things I couldn't do or couldn't make come true. I'm insanely humbled by the people I've met, the opportunities I've been given and the experiences I've got to share with you. This isn't the end of my blog, nor the end of the story. This is my apology for leaving you and the beginning of letting you in on some of the hardest things I've ever faced and have grown from. I can't wait to share everything I've taken away from this. I can't wait to help other people grow.

All my love,

Missy

Help me meet Jason Aldean!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE- if you have facebook, instragram or twitter- like and share my photo. Make a wish foundation only helps dreams come true to those 18 and under. There are NO websites to help me meet Jason Aldean, my inspiration for making it through my battle with cancer. The more the word gets out, the better chance I have of meeting him June 29th! 

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10151434655572035&set=a.10151425074397035.1073741828.505512034&type=1&theater

Twitter: Retweet @missyhazelton

Instragram:  missyhazelton
http://instagram.com/p/a95bGAHbN-/

Shaving my head!

Here's the link to the video on you tube!

Hair falling out

This morning I woke up with the worst dream. I had clumps of hair falling out everywhere I walked. I woke up with tear stains on my face and shuddered at the thought.
I showered and got ready, then brushed my hair. Clumps of twenty strands came out in my brush, and my heart sank. There have been many times before I brushed my hair and shed a ton of it, but none to this extreme.
I wrapped the ends of my hair and pulled lightly. Twenty more strands came out. I looked down at my scrub top, covered in strands of hair. "Is this really happening? Is today the day?" I looked at myself in the mirror and tried to shake it off like today was any other day.
In the car driving to work I listened to upbeat songs to try and change my mood. Nothing was working and a dark cloud hung over me.
When I arrived, I continued to see patients and try and pretend nothing was wrong. All I could think about was not moving my neck, not touching my hair. I didn't want it to fall out in one huge clump.
I lasted the whole day at work wirth only a couple break downs at work. The doctor and the other girls comforted me as I vented about how horrible it felt to lover in fear of losing my hair. I decided out was time to shave my head, no messing around anymore. This was MY choice and MY decision. Cancer was NOT going to bring me down once again.