To heal yourself

This last week has been one of the worst for me to this point in my life. That all by itself scares me to death. People are always saying that once we overcome one trial a harder one replaces it. Please tell me it's all a lie because I never want to feel this way again, and yet a huge part of life is loss and pain. Deal with it.

I think one major point to it all though is that we heal in between the blows. We overcome, we rise above it and we heal. To Heal. What does that really mean? I find that I feel so broken right now. Not just because of the events of this past week, but the last year. Maybe even two. I have had one blow after another and I find that I am asking myself if I have truly healed between each one? Moving to this house and this neighborhood was hard. I didn't want a new home, I didn't want to get to know all my new neighbors. I just wanted things to stay the same. But being here has made such a difference in my life. I can't imagine going through what I have gone through this last two years and not have been here.

I hope Julie doesn't mind, but I have to relay one experience that seemed to start a downfall of hard times for us. Ray. The day I hit Ray Green. So so hard, so hard. But after a few weeks Julie came to my home and told me about her experience after my kids ran to her home and told her I had hit Ray with my car. She said that as she ran out of her home and towards us she just kept telling herself that no matter what happened she had to make sure we knew she still loved us. That as friends nothing would change. How many people can be filled with that much Christ like love? Compassion? Here her child was hurt and she had no idea how he was, and she was worried about us. I don't know that it could have been anyone else's child and have the mom feel that way. I am so grateful for that family and what they teach me about Christ like love. They have been a blessing.

The support we received from the friends here in our ward after Skyler was born is unbelievable. Through all of Skylers tests, through his surgery and then the diabetes they were there for us as a family. They helped out, they brought in dinners and watched kids.

Then this last year. 4 babies lost. I have a few people around here that have known about every one of them. And each time they open their hearts and homes again while I spend time at doctors offices and emergency rooms. They listen to me cry, they hold me while I shake...and never give up on us as a family.

These things have helped me to heal. The unconditional love of those around me buoy me up and remind me that there is so much more going on here than just a few friends giving us food. They love us, and that makes the difference to my soul. I find that I have fallen down at the Saviors feet and placed my pain, my anguish, my confusion and fear there and He takes them from me. So many times He does this through the people around me. I don't see angels that descend from heaven on thrones. I don't hear voices while praying to myself. I see angels in the form of Angie and Michelle with their open arms and hearts bringing me yet another meal and taking my kids so I can sleep. While crying so softly I hear the voice of my friend Polly telling me it's going to be ok and that she loves me. The Savior isn't here with me holding me while I cry, but I feel His hand on my head as my husband and Chris give me a priesthood blessing of peace and comfort. He is here, He does love me and He feels my pain. He wants to take it away, if I will let Him. I am beginning to heal.

I have a long ways to go. I still feel a stab of pain when I see a woman pregnant. I still ache way down deep when thinking to next spring. Thinking how things have changed so drastically. But the last few days I have not had to drug myself up to get through the day. I imagine if I keep praying, keep opening up to people and listen to the promptings of the spirit I will heal as much as is humanly possible. I will get there. It takes time though, and in the meantime I will answer the phone when you call, because even though it's hard to talk about my loss, it's good to know so many people care so much.

For those of you who wonder....I don't know what the future holds. I don't know if we will ever try again for another baby. My hearts wants it so much, but at the same time the thought of going through this pain again is almost unbearable. I am still working through the feelings of losing this baby, I have yet to think ahead beyond just getting through everyday. I still have bruises up and down my arms from all the needles, IV's and rhogam shots. I don't know what we will do in the future, it's still too soon to decide. I need to heal first...

My day...

I got up on time today. My day started as any other day does and I had my elementary kids ready for school on time. I should give credit where credit is due though. My kids pretty much got themselves ready. I have to say that the younger kids are better than my jr high kids. They just got up, got ready and ran out the door when Polly honked. My jr high kids are a tad different. They both require a fair amount of attention and more help. Sad to say, but true. They were ready though and they and Kenna were out and to school on time.

After the main crowd was off to school I began my routine. I made my bed, I showered, did dishes, rotated laundry, broke up a few fights between Jessi and Colby and dragged Skyler off the counter tops at least a dozen times. I picked up dirty clothes, screened a few phone calls, checked the bank account and cleaned up the entry way. After all of this I got Jessi off to school. She is easy to get off and by the time she was in her car ready to go I had the two youngest boys in my car ready to go. We went out and surprised Jon with a visit and then a suggestion for lunch. We went out to eat, and boy was that an adventure. Skyler crawling all over the table and Colby all over under the table. There's a reason we don't take these kids out to dinner often.

After our goodbyes to dad, we headed home. Skyler needed a nap and the younger kids would be home soon. After school snacks, some wii, friends coming and going and a few more phone calls. Backpacks, shoes on the floor, new dirty dishes and a spilled soda on the coffee table and I knew my quiet time was over. Dinner, bed and no husband again. There's my day. It's boring and really there isn't much to tell. In fact I am surprised that I even dragged it out that far. There is one thing though. Despite the fact that life marched on today, and I had to march right along with it, I still hurt. I am amazed with myself with how much I can do despite the fact that my mind and body are screaming for me to crawl under the covers of my bed and sleep away the next month of heartache and pain.

I got up today and I did what I usually do. I didn't laugh much (Polly did make me laugh a little), but I got the job done. I look forward to the time when I laugh again easily. When hope is stronger than pain and fear. When I go throughout the day without spending so much time thinking about one tiny person that had such an impact on my life. I will always think of him, but I want to get back to thinking of other things too. I look forward to that day.

My baby

Yesterday I had a D&C and I won't try to disguise my pain today. We decided to name our sweet boy David Malachi. It has such a sweet meaning...Beloved Angel. He is my beloved and I miss knowing he is inside me anymore and I am having a hard time thinking to the future. There were so many things I had planned around a new baby and now I have to rearrange my thoughts and plans.

Needless to say I have a ways to go before I heal, but I will eventually get there. Just expect to hear me cry for a while when you call.

Goodbye...

I am hurting. I ache. I feel empty and sad. I lost another baby this weekend and this one will be the hardest by far. I was so much further along than with the others and the baby looks just perfect. My heart is broken and I know I will heal but it's going to take some time. It turns out the baby was a boy and I have yet to come up with a name, but I will. He cannot just be "the baby" or "he" or even worse "it". I will think of something to call him and I will forever love him.


"These are my tiny footprints,
so perfect and so small.
These tiny footprints
never touched the ground at all.
Not one tiny footprint,
for now I have wings.
These tiny footprints
were meant for other things.
You will hear my tiny footprints
in the patter of the rain.
Gentle drops like angel's tears,
of joy and not of pain.
You will see my tiny footprints,
in a butterflies' lazy dance.
I'll let you know I'm with you,
if you just give me the chance.
You will see my tiny footprints,
in the rustle of the leaves.
I will whisper names into the wind,
and call each one that grieves.
Most of all, these tiny footprints,
are found on mommy and daddy's hearts.
'Cause even though I'm gone now,
we'll never truly part."

Mary found this for me and I think it is just perfect.

I love you my baby boy. Our family will always miss you....

The best and the worst

Sundays are wonderful days. In the right forum, the right talk, the right music and this day is such a good one. No school, yummy dinners (courtesy of mom) and a little spirituality and I really like this day.

Sundays are horrible days. Trying to have a special spirit in my home while kids fight, we're late for church again and there is a spirit in my home and heart, but it's not the kind I would invite the Prophet in to share.

Yesterday was a mixture of both. Our Relief Society board meeting was wonderful. It was quiet, the spirit was there and the topics inspired me and lifted me up. I really loved it. Getting home to make sure everyone was ready for church after that was a joke. Most the little kids were still running around in dirty shorts with dirt on their faces to match. I only had 45 minutes to direct traffic and get our bags and get out the door. We were late enough that we had to divide and conquer. Jon sat towards the back with half the kids and I sat towards the front with the other half. It was ok and we did alright. By the time the youth choir got up to sing my emotions were close to the surface and when I saw all those beautiful young men and women get up and sing it was more than I could take. Beautiful children, all of them. The girls sang As Sisters In Zion and the boys sang The Armies of Helaman. I lost it half way through and I started to cry. What strong and beautiful spirits all these children were...three of mine were among them. Kenna, Megan and Isaac. I felt in awe of the children I was listening to and felt that I was coming up short as their mother. I was just bawling by the end of the song, but didn't feel too bad cause I realized that Angie was sitting behind me crying just as hard. Such a good moment.

Then the they split for classes. Polly and I were supposed to go to Sunday school, but instead we sat in the back of the chapel and watched the primary practice for their annual sacrament meeting program. This is where my day got funny. Watching those 50 wriggly tiny bodies trying to be contained and tamed by those lowly 10 or so adults was hilarious. They were up and down, they were all over that stage. Some of the kids when they got up to give their parts could barely be heard even with the microphone right there and some kids were so loud that the speakers of the microphone nearly ruptured. Michelle, Polly and I sat in the back and chuckled, giggled, laughed and blushed as the kids did their thing. I have 5 kids in primary this year and let me tell you...some are better than others. Jessi would disappear down between the rows of chairs and then with a definitive "pop" she would pop up like a superhero bursting through the earths crust. Colby was doing the up down thing with his folding chair and Joe left to pee three times. Very funny. I left that laughing....

By nightfall however the long day we had had was taking it's toll and I yelled at my kids and couldn't get them to bed fast enough while mumbling to myself that Sundays are the hardest day of the week and how glad I was that it was over. There are no other days in the week that invoke such emotion as this day. From the spirit, to humor to pure frustration.

Sundays....love them and hate them all in one breath. If you are not LDS, or have no kids I invite you to join us for one sabbath...it will either convert you, or chase you away permanently. Good luck...

The Best Medicine...

Ok folks, I admit it...I have been depressed for several weeks now. There...I said it. It's out in the open. No denial. No covering it up. No bull****. I have my suspicions as to why, and we don't need to go there, but there it is.

I will say though that even though I am not prone to spontaneous laughter and bouts of smiling lately that does not mean that I cannot produce a good belly laugh when I want to. Usually those things come easily for me and I don't need much to make it happen. I am usually a very happy person. I smile at strangers, I am a polite and patient person while at the wheel of a car and even the smallest things the kids do make me laugh, just not so much lately.

It's times like these that I find myself looking for things to laugh at, and trying to find humor where before it would find me. I have laughed though. Polly and I both have a tremendous amount of stress in our lives right now. Instead of choosing to sit around and psychoanalyze the crap out of our lives, we are choosing to send the kids to school, make yummy food and sit and watch Big Bang Theory. We don't even speak to each other, we just watch and laugh, right out loud and revel in the silence except for each others voices as we enjoy the moment. After these afternoons I am always more relaxed and find that life isn't quite as heavy as it seemed earlier in the day.

Kenna and I were playing wii the other day and we got so into it that we found ourselves laughing and screaming at the tv while the rest of the kids watched with smiles on their faces. Too too fun.

Isaac spent some time teaching Skyler "Boom, boom....firepower"...and let me tell you...that little boys is so cute it's hard not to laugh at him, or with him.

Karlee....dear Karlee. We always laugh when we are around each other. It is just what we do. However this time it was an email. Jon and I sat here at the computer together and laughed right out loud to the point where we were both in tears. I haven't laughed that hard in months. I have to thank Karlee for that. I so needed that...

Laughter is the best medicine. I know it...with all my heart. It can do more for you than a double dose of Xanax or an entire bottle of wine (sorry Lisa). It's true. I have decided that I will find ways every day to laugh and laugh hard. I will make sure I am sharing that laughter with those I love because that makes it just that much better.

Laughter truly is the best medicine and I challenge anyone who says different....

Dreams

I used to argue (nicely, more like sparring)with my dad over what life was about. We both have always had the same religious beliefs, but as to the rest of life, the pursuit of family and happiness and the fulfilling of dreams we have never seen eye to eye. He is a remarkably successful man who has spent a lifetime working hard and spending wisely which has led him to a very comfortable retirement with all of his needs taken care of. I admire him for these qualities, he is so smart and so reasonable. He has always been wise beyond his years and it shows in what he has now. But that's not what we would disagree on. I always maintained that there was more to life than that. More than the bills, more than financial security. He would prove his point and I would try to prove mine. He usually chuckled at my viewpoint because there was never any logic in it and didn't provide any constants in life. Just passion, just dream reaching, just the simple things that make a person happy, but can give true happiness. We eventually agreed to disagree on this one and we no longer joust it out. He has helped me more than words can say as far as finances, helping Jon get through school and getting us into our home. He will never know how much these things have meant to me and Jon.

What I have to wonder is if I have given any part of myself back to him. Have I given any of myself to anyone? I think most people want to share a part of themselves with the world and people do so in so many different ways. Music, art, children, sermons, dance, science and the written word. How do I fit in with this? As a young woman it was through theater and music. I was part of music groups for years, I went to Snow College on a theater scholarship and I loved those moments...every single one of them. But what about now? It's hard to keep my perspective when things can go so wrong and I have to constantly ask for help from others. I no longer am part of the theatre and I am lucky if I get an entire verse of music out in church on Sundays. I yell at my kids, complain to my friends and watch tv when I get free time. What do I contribute? I fear it's not much and that makes me sad. Where did the dreams go? Where did the time go that was on my side as a young one and now so eludes me?

I try to dream, I try to reach for the stars but sometimes it's hard just to reach for the front door of my own home to leave to take kids to school. I cry when I think of lost dreams, I cry when I think of lost hope. My dreams have changed but I have decided that I need to start to find new dreams. Things that are appropriate for my age and position in life. Dream girl......dream.

Caterpillar in the tree
How you wonder who you'll be
Can't go far but you can always dream.

Wish you may, wish you might
Don't you worry, hold on tight
I promise you there will come a day
Butterfly fly away.

Miley Cyrus