The "damn good" labor story that thankfully ended happily but ended with a diagnosis of lupus and sjogren's on top of hashimoto's, and the attitude and mindset shift that brought strength on top of a great sense of humor.

Sure, Lucy doesn't know--at least not yet--that I can't go hiking with her when she's older because of my fibromyalgia. That sometimes holding her is incredibly painful because my hands and wrists hit a new level of pain and muscle spasms around the same time she turned 3 months old.

Having ITP, a rare autoimmune condition, as an adult is stressful—Now we had to cope with ITP in the role of a parent of a child who has ITP.

I was pregnant with my second child when I found myself admitted to the hospital. Can I go home and pack? No. Can I still go to the family wedding this weekend? No. Will my baby be okay? Possibly. I sat in the hospital bed speechless. I was told I would remain there until I could learn to carb count and administer insulin injections. I was told I was to remain there until I could adequately protect the baby growing inside me.

Four years ago, I was at the top of my game. I was participating in Ironman Triathlon events, getting my master’s degree, and trying to be the best, most organized, never-missing-a-beat, mom and wife possible. Then, in no time flat, I went from Ironman triathlete to woman in a wheelchair.

Ultimately, lupus opened doors I never thought possible, and gave me chances I never saw coming. It has been quite an evolution. Once a scared twenty-something, I am now a soon-to-be forty-something with a growing wisdom and appreciation for the things that count.

With my moves across different nations during my lifetime, what has surprised me is how disjointed and poor it can seem in some of the developed countries as well. The narrative that follows highlights my journey with my eventual diagnosis of Hypothyroidism, and various other related maladies. I hope that women from across the globe will benefit from the nuggets of information embedded in my experiences, and go on to make better, more informed decisions about their personal healthcare.

I do get frustrated when I can’t attend any soccer games because it’s too cold, but I can host the Daisy troop in my kitchen for world-class cookie decorating. I tell my kids that it’s good to talk about how mad it makes us. But, I also remind them that if I go to an event that I shouldn’t, I could end up in bed for days.

For me, the next phase was a heroic jump into an unsustainably perfect way of living with an autoimmune disease. I bought an arsenal of health books, lost at least 8 of my 9 lives to Google (and self-diagnosed myself with 34.5 other diseases), interrogated numerous doctors, and went to weird support groups in dark church basements.

At a year and a half postpartum I’m feeling more optimistic about balancing life as the mother of a toddler and coping with Hashimoto’s thyroiditis. I remember last year coping with this condition wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. I was dealing with symptoms like fatigue, brain fog, and it was taking a while to get back to a regular monthly cycle.

From an early age, soccer was my game and there was no denying it. I lived and dreamed of soccer. It was my lifeline. Happy, sad, or angry— soccer was how I expressed myself. I became very ill when I was nine years old (strep-induced vasculitis). We were told that I may never be able to walk again.

While anyone can suffer from a vitamin B12 deficiency, autoimmune patients are especially susceptible. A B12 deficiency is almost a given for people with Pernicious anemia, Crohn’s disease, Graves’ disease, and lupus.