Night and Day

I was thinking, this morning, how I wanted to start a blog to share my life with others...

I think there have been more posts that are for me, though.

This one is.

To say our move to Arizona, was stressful, would be quite the understatement.  I've posted (i.e. whined) about that, enough, though.

I took my sweet 7 year old to his new school for the first time, today.

I was just going to drop him, off, but decided I would walk him to where he lines up.

They wouldn't let me past the gate.

So, he just walked in.  No hug, no looking back.  I had to call his name, just so he would turn around to say goodbye.

He waved and just kept on walking.

No picture.  No tears.

He just went right in and kept going.

This should come as a relief, to me... Don't get me, wrong - it does.

But...... it was so uneventful! Shouldn't the first day of school be more than just a wave?

I'm having to remind myself that this only means I've done something right, as a mother.  He's confident, brave, and ready to face a new challenge, with new people, in a new place.

He just went in.

This is a good thing.

Moving forward

I withdrew my son from his last school, today.

He'll be going to a new school, next year, which I'm so very thrilled about.

As I walked to my car, though, I got all emotional.

We started this last school a month after it had already started.  My kids didn't know anyone.  They had just been moved from one state to another, mostly against their will.

It was rough.

I remember feeling stressed to tears on a daily basis.  To know my kids were having a hard time and not liking their new school made things worse.

My boy whom I withdrew, today, struggled the most, I think.  He had such a hard time going each day.  I had to practically drag him in, and he usually ended up crying.  Once, he was so stressed about going, he got sick in the parking lot.  Another time, I had to have two teachers hold him, back, just so I could leave the building.  I questioned him in as many ways as I could to make sure nothing horrible was happening to him.  I talked to his teacher.  I talked to the front office.  He just had major anxiety.  And it was hard.

So, why the emotion, today?

Because we have been through so much and we survived.  It was bittersweet to leave that school.  I won't miss it; I'm just glad we're in a better place and settled and finally happy to be here.

The thing I said the most during those troubled times was, "We can do hard things".

And we did.

Don't Blink

Last night, I was called in to the room of my little boys.

My Quinnie had leg aches in both of his shins.

I sat and rubbed his legs till the medicine started working.  It didn't take long.

It made me think of all the times my own legs, hurt, in the middle of the night.  I remember my dad letting me lay next to him so he could rub my knees till the medicine started working.

I remember all the nights I had to lay by my Andur because he wouldn't stay in his bed or go to sleep if I didn't.  I even made a bunch of stuffed animals look like me under a blanket so I could leave.  It only worked, once.

I remember when I would put my Natalie in her crib, she would move her legs in circular motions as if to find the coziest spot.  She'd always lose her binky in her bed... which is how she eventually got rid of them; they just all got lost.

Quin had us taking turns on a nightly basis because of night terrors and bed-wetting.  Up until he was 5, actually.  Turned out he had sleep apnea, which explained his sleep patterns since he was a wee one.  I've lost a lot of sleep because of him.

Owen was the one who needed us to leave oh-so-quietly.  We greased doors and doorknobs and even got rid of sticky spots in the doorjamb, for that kid.

I heard a bonk on the wall, followed by a sleepy, "Ow".  My 4 yr old then instinctively moved away from his assailant.

My Quin was, quite literally, growing right before my eyes.  They all have.

It didn't take long.

It's going by way too fast.

That's what happens when you blink.

Natalie's Birth Story - Part 3

So, there I was, in the hospital - well, about to leave, actually; I had just found out I almost died, my daughter would have to be there for 3 or 4 weeks, depending on how well she progressed (typically, they like to keep them there until they're "term").  I was feeling a little overwhelmed.  Calm, but overwhelmed.

I was pulled, aside, by the billing department.  I was on Colorado Medicaid, which was NOT going to pay for things that happened in Washington.  I knowingly left the state in my state of being.  I was freaking out.  When Matt got back to Colorado, he found out his job was no longer there, since they thought he was leaving.  We lost the apartment and job opportunity is Washington, and we didn't know what we were going to do.  Miraculously, with some tweaking on the billing department's end, we were able to get Washington Medicaid and get the "events" covered.  That was a relief!

My new roommate picked me up, the day I was discharged.  It was a Thursday.  She was a single school teacher who lived in a charming house a few blocks from the hospital.  After some chatting when we arrived, she informed me we watch Jeopardy.  I could live with that.  

I had tried, rather desperately, to get my daughter flown to Denver where I could at least be with my family.  I was told by a nurse (whom I would later refer to as the "Nazi Nurse") that this would be quite foolish and could be very detrimental to her health.  I conceded.  

Walking was a very good way to help heal and ease any pain caused by the surgery (which I still had not felt, at this point); this was fortunate because I walked to the hospital in the morning to be there by 9am and walked home, at night, after 6pm (ish).  I ate all of my meals at the hospital, which were paid by meal coupons provided by the hospital.  I sat in the cafeteria, outside, or in nursing rooms, doing my word search puzzle book.  Every three hours, I made sure I was by my daughter's side for her feedings.  I insisted I be the one to feed her.  Otherwise, they would just gavage her without even taking her out of the incubator.  I didn't like this because she needed to learn how to eat with a bottle and she would, for me.  The Nazi Nurse knew I would be coming every feeding time to hold her and feed her, so she would feed and change her before I got there so I would be unable to take her out.  I was NOT pleased with this woman.  So, making it to the NICU early was crucial.  Natalie would eat for me via bottle, but not the nurses.  It was very frustrating if they didn't let me mother her.  VERY frustrating.  

It didn't take me long to realize I needed a watch.  The hospital was on the other side of what looked like a small hill; I thought there had to be something on the other side that could provide me with portable time-telling abilities.  So, I walked.  I did find a thrift store, of sorts, and was able to find a very cheap watch (which I still have in one of my keepsake boxes).  I was always on time, after that.  I have to mention that, as I was walking back from the thrift store, a convertible full of guys drove by and whistled at me.  Not only did I lose the baby weight, but I never gained much, to begin with.  To say I was swimming in my maternity clothes (the only ones I had) was an understatement.  That made me feel good, though.  :)

Besides practically flooding the bathroom, where I was staying, due to a shower mishap, the following days were fairly uneventful.  I woke up, walked to the hospital, fed and held my daughter every three hours, ate hospital food and did my word search puzzle book.  I remember sitting in the center of the hospital where they had a nice outdoor garden-filled courtyard.  That's where I was when I had a very powerful spiritual experience.  I felt so strongly that I was not alone, nor was I, ever.  The Lord was with me through the nurses, the people from my church, who visited and offered services, and even when it was just me.  I was so very blessed! I had the most special opportunity to be there for my daughter! One of the nurses told me that not many parents came to see their fragile little babies.  That just broke my heart.  I was so very blessed to be able to do so; if I had been home, in Colorado, I would have had to travel far to get to the hospital, pay for parking, and how often? I had a 16 month old - I doubt I could've been there every three hours in that situation.  I was given quite a special gift.  From that moment, on, I didn't feel bitter that I was so far away from home, or sad that I had to be there, by myself.  I knew we were being watched over and were being taken care of.  It was definitely a sweet experience.

Natalie progressed more quickly than the doctors anticipated.  She was able to hold her own body temperature and was eating well and gained weight.  It wasn't long before she was moved from the NICU incubator to an open bassinet, then to the pediatric unit where I was able to move in with her.  That was special.  I was able to pump the milk I had coming in, but we supplemented with formula for calorie purposes.  

After two weeks, she hit the 4 lb. mark - our goal for discharge so we could fly home.  The doctors knew it was a miracle that we shaved 2 weeks off of our stay.  By then, Matt's aunt was back in town and took me shopping for clothes that fit.  Another lady from church had taken me, earlier in the week, to buy a car seat.  We were ready!

I got to hold her on the plane.  Those around me were enamored of her - she was like a little doll! In fact, I had to by her doll clothes.  Very adorable ones, at that.  I had a one hour layover in Utah and they let me stay on the plane with her so I wouldn't have to deal with the madness that is an airport.  

Before we traveled to Washington, my little boy was speaking in sentences, but for some reason, he could not say "mama".  I heard him say it for the first time on the phone, while I was away.  I missed him, so much! When I arrived in Denver, my husband, son and Mom were waiting for me.  I quickly handed my daughter to my mom and grabbed my sweet little boy.  When he saw me, he looked up to my husband, pointed to me and said, "Mama!".  Oh, I loved that moment.  

It was Easter Sunday. 

Everyone noted a certain air about me... they said I seemed calm; serene...  I attribute that to the intense spiritual experience that was my whole trip.  I'll never forget that. 

*********************************

Natalie's 13, now.  She's still my fighter; very full of life and ready to take on whatever the world throws at her.  She has an inner strength to be reckoned with and a very kind heart.  

She's my girl.

Natalie's Birth Story - Part 2

Our car was finally repaired and we were ready to head home.  I was almost 35 weeks, by that point in our trip.

The night before we were going to leave, my stomach was hurting quite badly.  It felt like I had a rock literally at the pit of my stomach.  I thought it was the typical heartburn and actually tried to make myself throw up, as that's what usually helped ease the pain.  It didn't.  It only got worse.  I woke up my husband to tell him, which he was not happy about.  I wanted a blessing, but he wouldn't wake up his uncle, who was a doctor (anesthesiologist, but still).  So, I tried to sleep it off.

The next morning, before we were about to leave, I was seriously jonesing for some Fruit Loops.  My husband had finished them off and I was quite irked.  I had a banana, instead.

My stomach still hurt, so I called my doctor, just to be safe.  He strongly suggested I head to ER, just to check things out, having heard about my stomach issues the last few days.  My husband was not thrilled about the further delay, but we went.

At the ER in the smallest hospital I've ever seen, they admitted me to do an ultra sound.  They thought it might be my gall bladder.  The baby was fine, and it wasn't my gall bladder.  They did, however, say my blood pressure was quite high, most likely due to the pain.  They wanted to keep me, overnight, to make sure the meds they gave me for it were working. 

My husband's aunt and uncle were heading out, that day, for a week-long trip to Hawaii, but they said he could stay there, until I was released.  Our little boy did surprisingly well, this whole time.

The next day, I was quite out of it... I don't remember much, but I do remember feeling and sounding a little weird (I was slurring my words) - and slipping in and out of consciousness.  I strongly requested I call my doctor to see what he had to say about things... I guess the high blood pressure meds were not working.  I remember the nurse saying my doctor probably wouldn't know who I was since he sees a lot of patients and to not take it personally.  He knew exactly who I was.  I don't remember what I said to him, but I remember him saying something like, "Why haven't they delivered that baby, yet?!" I think I told him they wanted me to wait a week to see how things went, which I vaguely remember them telling me.  He, then, demanded I hand the phone to them.  So, quite smugly, I did.  I remember, at some point, someone saying my protein levels in my urine were so high, they couldn't be measured.

The next thing I knew, I was in an ambulance.  I don't remember how I got there, just that I came to, and there I was.  The EMT sat to my left and was very reassuring.  Somehow I knew it was a 30 minute drive to wherever we were going - I think he might have told me that.

When I came to, again, I was in a hospital room and some bossy doctor was putting me on pitocin to try to start the labor process.  I remember it hurting and I was so angry they would not let me have pain killers.  I remember not speaking very kindly to the doctor because of this.  Next thing I know, I'm on the phone with my mom and I'm telling her about the situation and that they wouldn't even let me have water or ice.  She was trying to tell me it was in case they needed to do surgery; they needed my stomach empty.  I didn't care.  Then I remember my husband on the phone with I assumed were his parents.  He was crying and saying. "I'm not ready for her to die."  I thought, "Aww... how sweet!" not even registering what he was saying, just that he loved me so much.  haha

The bossy doctor came back - the pitocin wasn't working and she wanted to break my water.  I told her I wanted pain killers.  I wasn't cooperating.  She brought my husband out to the hall and told him something.  He came back and very firmly said something along the lines of, if I didn't cooperate, I was going to die.  I still didn't care.  I wanted pain killers.  (This is how out of it, I was.)  They broke my water, but I was still not going anywhere with my labor.  The doctor said I wasn't progressing fast enough, so she opted for an emergency c-section.  I asked if I was going to be put, under.  I got an answer in the affirmative.  I was thrilled - I would not feel pain! (Man, am I a wuss when I'm not all there!)

I remember, briefly, that Matt could not be in the room.  My arms were taped down, sticking out from my body.  I remember being told to count backwards from 100.... and that was that.  I woke up in my hospital bed, hooked up to an IV pumping magnesium into my system because, apparently, it helps one to not have seizures.  I was like, huh.  Ok.  (Still quite out of it.) My husband was sitting, there, with two people I had never met.  He later told me they were his aunt and uncle from Idaho who came up to help.  They were going to take our, by then, 16 month old son, with them back to their home so Matt could be with me in the hospital.  Two perfect strangers, taking my son to another state.  Yeah, ok.  Then I was out, again.

I then remember waking up, again, maybe the next day? A nurse was in my room and I had not, yet, seen my baby, whom they said they delivered.  I was not happy with this.  I don't remember her being delivered, so I didn't believe them.  Still somewhat out of it.... I demanded and demanded, the nurse insisting I wasn't ready, yet.  Apparently, there were some swearing that came from my end of the argument... I don't remember.... She finally took the blankets she was folding and slammed them down on my bed, "Fine!".  So, I was put into a wheel chair and taken to the NICU.

She was so small.  3lbs. 5oz.  16 inches, long.  They took her out of her incubator and handed her to my husband.  She looked like just a bundle of blankets in his arms.  Then I got to hold her.  She was so fragile.  They had me try to nurse, if I remember, correctly, and she latched right on.  They gave me the option of letting her nurse or bottle-feeding.  I chose bottle-feeding as it burned less calories and I wanted her to grow, so we could go home.  Her lungs were fully developed and she was able to breathe on her own.

It had been three days since she was born.  My husband needed to get back home, to Colorado, so he could get us packed and ready to move to Washington.  I was ready to be discharged, as I was walking perfectly and the only pain I felt was in my back from the uncomfortable hospital bed.  I only took two ibuprofen the whole time I was in the hospital, never needing anything else.  I do, however, remember them telling me I had to cough due to the surgery.  That HURT.  But, holding a pillow against my incision while I did cough, helped some.  

My husband left, that day.  He was going to pick up our son in Idaho, who, miraculously, was having the best time.  He slept well, he played well, and he was happy and well-taken care of.  I was so glad to hear this, when I did.  Before my husband left, he got me a few things to keep me busy:  a word search puzzle-type book and a deck of cards for solitaire (which I still have - everyone knows them as "mom's cards").  I also had some crocheting as I was working on a baby blanket for Natalie... one I never finished.  I still have a square or two from it, though.  

My emotions hit, that day.  The hospital let me stay one extra day as I had nowhere to go and no car to get there, anyway.  My husband was gone and I was in a hospital, several states away from my family.  Matt's aunt and uncle were still out of town and lived too far from the hospital for me to stay at their house.  This is where my spiritual journey began... I remember having several bishops and Relief Society presidents from my church come visit me.  I had several names and phone numbers of people who offered money, clothing, rides... and one who let me stay with her.  She lived a few blocks away from the hospital, so I could walk to and from, every day.  That was such a huge blessing.  I remember Natalie getting her first Priesthood blessing from two men I had never met and would never see, again, in this earthly life.  I do remember the name, Roger.  They both worked in that hospital and, as they left, one hugged me and kissed me on the head.  I felt very loved.

That day, my doctor (the bossy one), did a final once-over one me.  She was very surprised I did not need any pain medicine.  (Now that I think about it, I can see why! hahaha!) She recounted for me all that had happened that foggy day when I arrived in her care...

I had preeclampsia with HELLP syndrome.  Basically, my organs were not fairing so well; my kidneys were suffering and not doing their job, hence the high protein levels.  My blood pressure was through the roof.  My placenta had been malfunctioning pretty much the whole pregnancy, resulting in a very small birth weight for my daughter.  My brain was swelling - which is why I was in and out of consciousness and not all there.  I had a headache when we arrived at the first hospital.  I had serious swelling issues through out the pregnancy.  All the vomiting I did was a result, as well.  The pain I felt in the pit of my stomach? That was my liver.  It was on the verge of rupturing.  Due to all of this, my platelet count was dangerously low.  I had to have 5 transfusions of platelets going in to the surgery and 5 units coming out, just so I wouldn't bleed to death.  Remember how Sybil died? Cried my eyes, out.  That could've happened to me.  Bossy doctor saved my life.  Try hearing this the day your postnatal hormones come flooding in, with your baby in the NICU, your husband and child in another state, no family, around, and being discharged from the hospital, the next day, only to go stay with someone you had never met.

Stay tuned for part three...

Natalie's Birth Story - Part 1

Once upon a time, I wanted a second child.  For my anniversary, my husband gave me a card that had a condom taped to the inside and it was crossed out, indicating he was ready for the "transaction" (hahaha).  Little did we know, we were already expecting...

I remember where we were sitting when I called my parents to tell them I was pregnant, again.  I made them get on speaker phone.

For the first half of my pregnancy, my family insisted I was having a boy.  I wasn't so sure... it felt different, this time, around.  I carried differently, and it just felt... different.

I still remember the ultra sound room like it was yesterday.  My doc said I was going to have a girl and I couldn't believe it... I had him bring in another doc who said she was 95% sure it was a girl.  I was so excited, I started tearing up.  A girl!

I remember sitting in the lab chair, feeling disgruntled at the phlebotomist who was subconsciously begging me to do her job, for her, as she could not find my very findable vein.  I remember my blood pressure being slightly elevated and my proteins levels being a smidge high, but no one was worried. 

I didn't get as big as my first pregnancy, but MAN was my heartburn vicious! I would only be able to get half-way through each meal before I would have to do a mad dash for the bathroom for my typical "regurgitation" process into the toilet.  Then, I could finish the rest with no problems.  I was at a CPK for the first time, ever, with my husband, on a date, and I was feeling so very sick.  I chose to have a raspberry herbal tea and a miracle happened: all my troubles disappeared.  I had found this magic elixir; my saving grace, to get me through the rest of my pregnancy.  (p.s. Oh. my. pizza. CPK was SO GOOD.) 

I would get sick at the strangest times.  One night, my smallish first-born was crying in his crib and I got up to pacify him.  I realized, standing there, that I had to make a bee line to the bathroom... and didn't make it.  I left a trail through the hallway to the bathroom,  My husband cleaned up vomit for the first (and maybe only) time in our marriage.  He, then, had to take care of our little one.

With my first pregnancy, I could not stand the smell of garlic.  This time, around, it was Yukon Gold potatoes.  Weird.  If I remember, correctly, I craved sub sandwiches.

When I was about 33 weeks, along, my husband and I woke up, one morning, and decided to drive to Washington state.  We lived in Colorado, at the time, and with the failing economy for our career of choice, there weren't many jobs, and we had been laid off three times.  We started applying in Washington because I had always wanted to live there and Matt served his mission, there.  We were having a hard time with it because we weren't there for interviews.  Hence, our sporadic decision to make use of our recent tax refund and start driving.  

I made sure to get my medical records for the journey, being I was so close.  My doctor gave me the OK to go since I was having a non-eventful pregnancy, thus far.

We had a 15-month-old but he did well, traveling, that I can remember.  We arrived in the evening; I remember being somewhat dismayed at all of the.... dark.  I was expecting to come out of the tree-filled, mountainous area to city lights.  Alas, I was only met with... more trees.

Washington was, and still is, one of the most breathtakingly beautiful places I've ever seen.  But, that's another post.

The rest of the week went by most frustratingly.  We searched and fought and interviewed and searched.  We finally got a job offer, though, and put a deposit down on an apartment and started the long journey, home.

Before we left the Seattle metro area, I started having nauseating issues with my stomach.  We planned to drive down to Matt's aunt's house, for the night - she lived in the southern area of the state.  I threw up seven times on the way, there.  All I had was a brown paper bag and maybe another one.  It was not pleasant.  When we arrived, I vomited one more time in her bathroom and finally felt ok-ish.

The next morning, we headed out.  I remember seriously craving Fruit Loops, but my husband had finished them off.  (I often think of that morning when I eat them.) On our way, out of town, our car started having issues.  We felt we needed to turn around and head, back.  We brought it to a repair shop and ended up staying another week because of it.

Random side note:  I laughed my buns off whenever this commercial came on, while we were staying there... Still hilarious.  

Stay tuned for part two...

Pearls of great price.

I feel pretty fantastic.

I can sleep.  (OSA diagnosed and being treated with oral device.)

I can see.  (Astigmatism in each eye diagnosed and being treated with glasses.)

I can think.  (Bipolar {finally} correctly diagnosed and being treated with proper meds.)

I feel pretty stinkin' fantastic.

The world is my oyster.  

Making My Peace With 4

Four kids.

Four birthdays.

I've been struggling with this.  I've been doing some soul-searching... why has this been so hard for me? Why have I been craving a baby so badly?

Soul-searching...

I mourn the fact that I never got to enjoy my babies or having them or even holding them.  I miss what I was supposed to have, what I did have, but didn't want.

I want it, now.  I wish I could go back or do it, again; but the way it's supposed to be done - with happy tears instead of sad tears.

I prayed about foster-turned-adopt... No dice.  My family wouldn't have it, anyway.

I knew it was ok to put a stop to my child-bearing abilities.  Heavenly Father knew I needed it that way.

So, why? Why do I feel I need a baby so very badly?

My baby turns four, Sunday.

Four.

He's not a baby, anymore.  He's practically self-sufficient.  I'm all-to-quickly being pushed from the baby stage of motherhood to the bigger kid stage.

I remember longing for this; not wanting my baby to grow faster, but freedom.  I wanted my freedom.  I felt I needed it, to stay sane.

I have it, now.  And I need to make my peace with it, this milestone of motherhood.  It's bittersweet, really.

I've noticed my little boy seemingly struggle with this transition, as if he, too, isn't quite ready to grow up a little more.  I hear ya, buddy.  I hear ya.

So, slowly, I've been telling myself to hold the sweeter memories of littler people in my heart, while I strive to embrace this next step of my life and keep moving forward.

Silly, I know.  But it is what it is.

New Year's Resolution

A {failed attempt at not being cliche} New Year's Recollection

I came up with this grand idea, a few days, ago, to not set goals for the coming year, but to give recognition to the things I had conquered and accomplished.

Seemed so very anti-cliche, at the moment, but then - Facebook happened.

Post after post seemed to be of people "not" setting goals, but giving recollection to the past year's accomplishments and conquerings.

I was all ready to blog about this thing - this great, un-thought of, novel idea to not look at oneself to see failings in order to set goals, just to inevitably fail all over, again.  No, I was going to blog about all the wonderful things we could be looking at in our self-reflection.

But, no.  It had already been thought of.

I'm not naive, enough, to actually think that no one in the whole wide world even considered thinking this way.  I felt a little deflated, just the same.

But, seriously, I had a good year.  I came out, on top, even.  Feeling a bit old, mind you, but, yes, on top.

Me:  1            2015:  0

Actually, it's probably more like:

Me:  37           1978-2015:  0

I've survived another year with its trials and curve balls.  I've been grateful for many, many things (at appropriate times, I hope).  I've had my faith and strength tested and came out stronger in both aspects.  I've relished so many moments, appreciating them for what they were.  I've made and shared memories with those around me.  I kept Heavenly Father at my side.  Rather, I recognized that He was there, all along.  I've made new friends, saw family I hadn't seen in years, made contact with family I've never even met, and have a bright outlook for the year to come.

I have a goal in life to be able to look back with no regrets.  Can I say that, so far? Yes.

Ha - yeah, right.

Are there things I wish I hadn't done in my life? Words I wish I had never said or even thought? Hearts I broke that break mine just thinking about it? Things I did that needed forgiving? Things that were done to me that needed forgiving?

The answers to all these questions is, obviously, yes.

And, yet, I have the gracious opportunity to feel quite the contrary.

I cannot imagine how I would feel about myself or my life or even the past year, had I not known about the Atonement.

I don't want to get all mushy; I have a very strong testimony of the Atonement and of Jesus Christ and my Heavenly Father who made this all possible.

I'm grateful for 2015.  I'm glad some of it is over; other parts I wish I could do, again.  I'm grateful I can look back with no regrets.  I'm thankful for my Savior.

Here's to a new year of carpe-ing the diem, of making new friends, creating new memories and doing it all with the Lord by my side.

Happy New Year!!