Saturday, November 19, 2016
Sunday, November 6, 2016
A dream I need to pray about
I had a dream this morning. I was 15-20ish in age at this event where I was being honored for something along with three other girls. I found a seat next to these two boys within the large crowd who appeared to be brothers. I sat next to the older boy who was a little bit younger than me. He had dark to medium brown hair, and he was a special needs boy. When I sat down next to him, and I offered to play thumb war with him. He had previously been having a bit of a reaction or something that made it impossible for him to calm down. But as I played thumb war with him he calmed down, and I felt this instant connection with him. We talked for a while, and George appeared briefly in my arms. The boy asked if it was my son, and I said it was with a smile. After a bit the mother and a case worker appeared so they could take the boy home. I gave him a hug goodbye and told him that I wished I had met him earlier. And this music that I've never heard before was playing in the background the whole time I was saying goodbye to him. I was at this table trying to write my email address down for him, but I kept struggling to write it correctly. Then Justin woke me up to help with George.
This music piano and cello and violin melody was still in my head. I was so sad that he was gone that I started crying. Has anyone else ever had a dream so powerful that it made them cry? Sob even?
This music piano and cello and violin melody was still in my head. I was so sad that he was gone that I started crying. Has anyone else ever had a dream so powerful that it made them cry? Sob even?
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
What the sleeping mom heard
Okay, so that title is simply a silly reference to What the Deaf Man Heard...which actually has nothing to do with my post, but I am tired, and I'm going to leave it. lol
Today I dozed off upstairs while feeding George but woke up as the girls got home. I knew Lydia was watching Pokemon on the tablet, so I assumed the girls would be entranced by that until I finished feeding George and forced them to do homework.
They did for a while, but when our neighbor's 2nd grade twin boys knocked on the door to ask if the girls could play, Hannah did something I didn't expect.
She told them they couldn't play, because she and Abigail hadn't started their homework. She closed the door and declared to Abigail and Lydia. "Okay, you guys, it's time to turn off the tablet and do homework."
AND THEY DID! George had fallen asleep, but I was too curious to sleep at this point. So I listened. Hannah set the kitchen timer on the microwave to 5 minutes and had Abigail press start so she could do her timed math. Then Hannah picked out a book, went up to her room, and read for twenty minutes. Then, after all of her homework was complete, she politely reported to me and asked if she could play! I was so impressed with her initiative that I didn't even make her do chores.
Abigail was pretty close to being done with her homework as well, so they got to play outside with their friends for a good 2 hours.
I just had to document this. It's the first time I've ever noticed Hannah being so responsible. I hope it continues, because it was awesome!!
Today I dozed off upstairs while feeding George but woke up as the girls got home. I knew Lydia was watching Pokemon on the tablet, so I assumed the girls would be entranced by that until I finished feeding George and forced them to do homework.
They did for a while, but when our neighbor's 2nd grade twin boys knocked on the door to ask if the girls could play, Hannah did something I didn't expect.
She told them they couldn't play, because she and Abigail hadn't started their homework. She closed the door and declared to Abigail and Lydia. "Okay, you guys, it's time to turn off the tablet and do homework."
AND THEY DID! George had fallen asleep, but I was too curious to sleep at this point. So I listened. Hannah set the kitchen timer on the microwave to 5 minutes and had Abigail press start so she could do her timed math. Then Hannah picked out a book, went up to her room, and read for twenty minutes. Then, after all of her homework was complete, she politely reported to me and asked if she could play! I was so impressed with her initiative that I didn't even make her do chores.
Abigail was pretty close to being done with her homework as well, so they got to play outside with their friends for a good 2 hours.
I just had to document this. It's the first time I've ever noticed Hannah being so responsible. I hope it continues, because it was awesome!!
Thursday, October 6, 2016
For my good
Today began normal. I felt a little dizzy but nothing to give me pause. I fell asleep during George's nap after making sure Lydia couldn’t get into dangerous things and had a snack.
George woke up for a feeding, but it took several minutes for me to wake all the way up to feed him. It was 10:30 before I made my way downstairs for breakfast. I felt dizzy and a little nauseous but chalked it up to not having eaten. So I cooked my standard sausage biscuits and eggs but the ill feeling did not fade. It got so bad that Justin had to come home, and I was in awful shape. I managed to eat a piece of toast for lunch, but it didn't help.
I tried taking a shower to break my fever, but I almost passed out in the shower. I started praying for help, and had a fleeting thought that this shouldn't be happening because of my blessing that nothing bad would happen while I served my calling. I had the distinct impression that it wasn't bad, and that meant it was for my good.
There was a point when I felt so weak that I'd slumped to the ground and I thought I would black out. I kept hearing a voice saying, "You need to get out now.", but I was so weak that just fell lower on the floor of the tub. I prayed that Justin would come up and help me, but I knew he couldn't hear, and I was too weak to shout or try pounding on the wall.
I started to feel faint when I felt a voice firmly say, "Get up now.". I felt a slight boost of strength and somehow pried myself off the floor.
I got out and was shuddering and shivering so badly that Justin heard me in yhe baby monitor and helped me to the bed. I laid there for several minutes just wrapped in a towel, breathing.
After I managed to get dressed (with Justin's help) I slept for hours, waking up only to feed George and force myself to drink water.
I am still really cold in spurts and nauseous, but it is better. I ate a third of a muffin for dinner and drank more water, and hopefully I feel better tomorrow.
I don't know why I had to go through this on my last day of my twenties, but I felt peace knowing that it was for my good, however that may be.
George woke up for a feeding, but it took several minutes for me to wake all the way up to feed him. It was 10:30 before I made my way downstairs for breakfast. I felt dizzy and a little nauseous but chalked it up to not having eaten. So I cooked my standard sausage biscuits and eggs but the ill feeling did not fade. It got so bad that Justin had to come home, and I was in awful shape. I managed to eat a piece of toast for lunch, but it didn't help.
I tried taking a shower to break my fever, but I almost passed out in the shower. I started praying for help, and had a fleeting thought that this shouldn't be happening because of my blessing that nothing bad would happen while I served my calling. I had the distinct impression that it wasn't bad, and that meant it was for my good.
There was a point when I felt so weak that I'd slumped to the ground and I thought I would black out. I kept hearing a voice saying, "You need to get out now.", but I was so weak that just fell lower on the floor of the tub. I prayed that Justin would come up and help me, but I knew he couldn't hear, and I was too weak to shout or try pounding on the wall.
I started to feel faint when I felt a voice firmly say, "Get up now.". I felt a slight boost of strength and somehow pried myself off the floor.
I got out and was shuddering and shivering so badly that Justin heard me in yhe baby monitor and helped me to the bed. I laid there for several minutes just wrapped in a towel, breathing.
After I managed to get dressed (with Justin's help) I slept for hours, waking up only to feed George and force myself to drink water.
I am still really cold in spurts and nauseous, but it is better. I ate a third of a muffin for dinner and drank more water, and hopefully I feel better tomorrow.
I don't know why I had to go through this on my last day of my twenties, but I felt peace knowing that it was for my good, however that may be.
Saturday, September 24, 2016
Catch Up Post
Several days ago I had another dream that felt similar to the one I last posted. It was much shorter, and all I was doing was walking throught my room after "waking up", but I distinctly remember that I wasn't wearing contacts, but somehow I could see everything with perfect clarity. It was cool.
We had a coupon and got KFC for dinner tonight, but I ordered about two times too much. I sat there after we ate, contemplating how the leftovers don't usually taste good the next day and wondering what I should do, when a thought popped into my mind. We have a neighborhood facebook page, and I felt a gentle prompting to post that we had extra food (5 or 6 pieces of chicken, 4 biscuits, an unopened thing of potatoes and gravy, and an extra coleslaw) to anyone who wanted it. Within five minutes our neighbor across the street claimed it.
Yeah, I would've eaten the leftovers, but it wouldn't have been as good, and we were happy to share. My neighbor asked if she could pay us, and I jokingly said she would owe me a favor, but I don't think I'll ever collect on it.
Between that and Womens Session of Conference, it was an uplifting evening. I am excited about General Conference next week...and turning 30 just after that! Woooooooo!
We had a coupon and got KFC for dinner tonight, but I ordered about two times too much. I sat there after we ate, contemplating how the leftovers don't usually taste good the next day and wondering what I should do, when a thought popped into my mind. We have a neighborhood facebook page, and I felt a gentle prompting to post that we had extra food (5 or 6 pieces of chicken, 4 biscuits, an unopened thing of potatoes and gravy, and an extra coleslaw) to anyone who wanted it. Within five minutes our neighbor across the street claimed it.
Yeah, I would've eaten the leftovers, but it wouldn't have been as good, and we were happy to share. My neighbor asked if she could pay us, and I jokingly said she would owe me a favor, but I don't think I'll ever collect on it.
Between that and Womens Session of Conference, it was an uplifting evening. I am excited about General Conference next week...and turning 30 just after that! Woooooooo!
Thursday, August 25, 2016
The Time is Now
I was taking an afternoon nap just now, because I haven't been getting a lot of sleep with school starting and the kids having a cold. The dream I had during my nap was...really interesting.
I was in the house and had just woken up (in my dream), and for some reason Lydia and George were the only ones awake in the house. And I heard Justin saying how proud he was of me for cleaning the house while he was gone, but I was so confused, because I had been "sleeping". When I got up (still in the dream), I realized that I didn't feel tired at all, that I really had cleaned, and the whole house had so much light and felt so much brighter.
When I woke up for real from the dream the immediate inundation of tiredness was so different from the feeling of just weightlessness I'd just been feeling. I guess I didn't realize how completely drained and exhausted I've felt lately.
When I was set apart to be a Relief Society Instructor, I was told that I would be able to accomplish the things that I desired more easily as I serve God in the home. That came to my mind just now well as I was pondering this dream. I think that all of the light in my dream - the brightness that was all throughout the house - might not have literally been sunlight.
It feel like it was the Light of Christ in our home taking the weight off of everything. It says in the scriptures that when the people of Alma had burdens too great that the Lord was able to remove their burdens from them, and that they were able to "bear their burdens with ease". I have the feeling that this is the same kind of miracle. I have the opportunity to lighten my burdens by serving the Lord in my home. I want to feel that feeling again - that joyous, weightless brightness. And I think God was telling me that now is the time.
I was in the house and had just woken up (in my dream), and for some reason Lydia and George were the only ones awake in the house. And I heard Justin saying how proud he was of me for cleaning the house while he was gone, but I was so confused, because I had been "sleeping". When I got up (still in the dream), I realized that I didn't feel tired at all, that I really had cleaned, and the whole house had so much light and felt so much brighter.
When I woke up for real from the dream the immediate inundation of tiredness was so different from the feeling of just weightlessness I'd just been feeling. I guess I didn't realize how completely drained and exhausted I've felt lately.
When I was set apart to be a Relief Society Instructor, I was told that I would be able to accomplish the things that I desired more easily as I serve God in the home. That came to my mind just now well as I was pondering this dream. I think that all of the light in my dream - the brightness that was all throughout the house - might not have literally been sunlight.
It feel like it was the Light of Christ in our home taking the weight off of everything. It says in the scriptures that when the people of Alma had burdens too great that the Lord was able to remove their burdens from them, and that they were able to "bear their burdens with ease". I have the feeling that this is the same kind of miracle. I have the opportunity to lighten my burdens by serving the Lord in my home. I want to feel that feeling again - that joyous, weightless brightness. And I think God was telling me that now is the time.
Sunday, August 14, 2016
A Church of Love
I have a few friends who are either homosexual or have decided to take up the banner in defending their cause. They ironically claim that the church is exclusive and hateful by lashing out in their own hateful ways.
It makes me so sad. The church is a church of love. Everything it does is because of the pure love of Christ.
But why are the children of a gay person not allowed to get baptized or hold the priesthood?
This is the most recent in a slew of attacks issued by acquaintances. It is my personal belief that the reason is love. It doesn't make sense to them, but take a step back and look at our whole reason for being on this earth: family.
The family unit is the singlemost important unit in this temporal frame. It makes perfect sense to me that God would give instruction to his Prophet to protect it as much as possible in a world that increasingly tries to tear families apart.
In that sense it becomes clear that making a child wait until they're an adult to be baptized or receive the priesthood is not an act of exclusion and hate - but an act meant to protect the wholeness of their family situation. It is meant to strengthen family ties, not ravage them. It is because of love.
This life is such a small part of eternity. It may seem difficult to have to wait for eternal ordinances once a child realizes they are good and true, but if the cost is alienating family...one half of who they are, I understand why God wants them to wait a few years. It's for their protection and the protection of the family.
I wanted to write my thoughts on this subject down before I forget it. I've been forgetting a lot of things lately...
It makes me so sad. The church is a church of love. Everything it does is because of the pure love of Christ.
But why are the children of a gay person not allowed to get baptized or hold the priesthood?
This is the most recent in a slew of attacks issued by acquaintances. It is my personal belief that the reason is love. It doesn't make sense to them, but take a step back and look at our whole reason for being on this earth: family.
The family unit is the singlemost important unit in this temporal frame. It makes perfect sense to me that God would give instruction to his Prophet to protect it as much as possible in a world that increasingly tries to tear families apart.
In that sense it becomes clear that making a child wait until they're an adult to be baptized or receive the priesthood is not an act of exclusion and hate - but an act meant to protect the wholeness of their family situation. It is meant to strengthen family ties, not ravage them. It is because of love.
This life is such a small part of eternity. It may seem difficult to have to wait for eternal ordinances once a child realizes they are good and true, but if the cost is alienating family...one half of who they are, I understand why God wants them to wait a few years. It's for their protection and the protection of the family.
I wanted to write my thoughts on this subject down before I forget it. I've been forgetting a lot of things lately...
Monday, August 1, 2016
New Calling, New Blessing
Yesterday I was called as a Relief Society Instructor and was also set apart. It was a good blessing. There were a few lines that really stuck out to me.
One part said that as I serve God in the home, I would have more time for my interests and personal hobbies as well as more time to be a good mother and wife.
It also said I touch some people and that my example would help them.
That's all I really remember, but I don't want to forget it, so there it is.
One part said that as I serve God in the home, I would have more time for my interests and personal hobbies as well as more time to be a good mother and wife.
It also said I touch some people and that my example would help them.
That's all I really remember, but I don't want to forget it, so there it is.
Friday, July 1, 2016
Lashing Out
I'm starting to notice that I am kind of mean to the people closest to me when I'm stressed out or frustrated. How can I get over this? I wasn't always this way...
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
George is so perfect, and I love him so much. These past couple weeks have been the hardest and worst I've ever felt in my life physically. I am a mess of emotions and both love and hate my life...
Everything is so hard. I can't do anything or go anywhere without using all of my strength and becoming completely exhausted, short of breath, and dizzy. :(
This...is so dumb, and I hate it, but at least George has no problems...
Everything is so hard. I can't do anything or go anywhere without using all of my strength and becoming completely exhausted, short of breath, and dizzy. :(
This...is so dumb, and I hate it, but at least George has no problems...
Thursday, May 5, 2016
Baby George and Feeling Useless
I never expected a recovery from childbirth to be so difficult. I never expected so many complications.
On Sunday my water broke at 3:35 a.m. when I got up to go to the bathroom. I wasn't sure it had, but then the contractions started within a few minutes and leakage became obvious. I decided to let Justin sleep as long as possible, because the contractions were only 10 minutes apart. I brushed my teeth and started looking for a few last minute things for the hospital bag, but the contractions were getting closer together, about every 7 minutes, and it was difficult.
Justin stumbled out of the bedroom around 4:15 and asked what was going on. I said I was in labor, he asked if he could take a quick shower, and I said yes.
I started gathering clothes for the girls for the week, but contractions were becoming excruciating at every 5 minutes. Hannah woke up, I told her what was going on, and she woke up Abigail...who was very upset and vocal about being woken up from her "good dreams" and "deep sleep".
Justin got out of the shower, called his brother, and we were in the car really quickly, but contractions were awful. Completely horrible.
I called the hospital to let them know we were coming, and couldn’t talk through a contraction. I said they were every five minutes, but it was actually closer to 4. We dropped the kids off at Travis and Christina's and zipped over to the hospital, and contractions were every 3 minutes.
I got in at 5:10, and thank goodness they were expecting us. It's probably the only reason I was allowed to get an epidural. Every contraction was agony while the anesthesiologist prepped me. I got the epidural in just after 5:30, but blah, there was no medicine in it yet. Finally medicine got put in it, and pain slowly started to dissipate. It was barely working, but it took the edge off just enough for active labor to explode forth like a waterfall of fire and lava and boiling water that spatters violently out of a pot and screams against the hot stove top.
I will never say I can do labor without an epidural again. I would have died. Even with it barely starting to work.
Baby George was out after maybe 5 pushes after I insisted on an episiotomy before the fifth one. Placenta came out easily, and I thought that was the end of my pain.
Ha.
Oh how naïve I was.
It took us a while to leave the Labor & Delivery floor. The nurse helped me get cleaned off, put an absorbent mat thing under me and a rectangular diaper pad... thing. I continued to have pain in my uterus but thought it was okay.
The nurse was checking my vitals when she heard a dripping sound. Justin later said it was a puddle of blood on the floor. I didn't realize how big it was since I couldn't see, but I guess I had soaked through the large pad and the mat. Oops...
When we finally made it to the Recovery floor another doctor at my OBGYN place was on staff and came to check in, but I thought everything was normal and said not to worry. I fed George, but within the hour my bleeding and pain got worse, and I had him sent to the nursery and the doctor called back in. Within a minute of his doctorly investigation and kneading, a series of blood clots that looked like a mushed up 2nd placenta came spilling out.
He left after giving some instructions to the nurses, and I thought all was well. Unfortunately all was not well. I lost another few large blood clots and was feeling a bit dizzy but largely ignored it because my pain was manageable, and I assumed that meant I was fine.
Our lunch was brought in, and I wanted to hurry and eat it before I had to feed George at 11:30. The salmon I'd ordered looked pretty good, so I decided to start with that. I inclined the bed upward and started feeling dizzy, but I didn't pay any mind, leaned forward, and took a bite of the fish.
Immediately my ears started to ring. I struggled to chew the bite in my mouth. I couldn't breathe, and the room was spinning. I tried to reach for the phone to call my nurse, but I couldn't focus on it...like my hand didn't know what to do with it.
By this time I think Justin realized something might be off. He stood somewhere around me and asked what was wrong.
I said I couldn't breathe. Justin later said that my skin turned white "like a ghost". A nurse randomly opened the door. I think I said I couldn't breathe again.
I don't remember much of what happened in those next few minutes. I was told later that a rapid response alert was issued to prevent the situation from turning into cardiac arrest. All I remember was that people were around me and I vaguely recognized that I still couldn't breathe, but it no longer seemed important.
In hindsight the most alarming thing about the whole ordeal was realizing how I had no control over my life and couldn't even muster the ability to care or worry about it.
Someone turned on a bright light. Someone else put oxygen tubes up my nose. Someone else hooked an emergency IV in my left arm with something to raised my blood pressure. A doctor held my hand. I recognized his voice as the doctor who had helped me earlier, and I was filled with a feeling of reassurance. Nurses told me later there were at least a dozen people in the room working on me in various ways, and it reminded me of bees bustling and buzzing around a hive. A blood transfusion was ordered for me, and the oxygen tubes were switched with a mask.
As I regained clarity I wished that I had taken a bite of something else besides fish as it's pungent odor permeated the oxygen within the mask, but I also knew that feeling alert enough to want to complain was a good sign.
Then I remembered George. Was he okay? How was he going to eat? What time was it?
I couldn't move my limbs very well, so I knew there wasn't really much that could be done. So after checking with Justin, I gave a nurse permission to feed George formula through a tiny tube attached to her pinky.
Long story short, I got the transfusion, needed another one on Monday, and needed a third one on Tuesday. George is breastfeeding okay in spite of the setbacks, and recovery is way harder than I thought it would be.
I wish I had prepared more. I wish the kids had more clothes laid out and ready for them for school. I wish I had more strength.
When I got home I cried a lot and felt useless and weak. Last night was really hard, and I thought I might have to go to the hospital again, because I was dizzy, short of breath, and my heart felt like it was too fast, but fortunately that did not happen.
I'm still having trouble, but I feel measurably less hopeless. Linda volunteered to come over, and I'm surprised (and grateful...very grateful) she'll be able to drive the distance over and over.
I'm still not sure why this happened. I don't think I'll be able to have any more kids after this. At least...I don't think I would survive it. With Lydia I had the easiest delivery and recovery ever. I was foolish to assume I could bank on something like that again, but still...there's no way I could have expected this. I'm just glad and grateful that George is doing so well, and that I have friends and family here whom I have been able to rely on in this time of need. It's difficult to feel so low...knowing that I need the help, but I'm glad it's there, just the same.
On Sunday my water broke at 3:35 a.m. when I got up to go to the bathroom. I wasn't sure it had, but then the contractions started within a few minutes and leakage became obvious. I decided to let Justin sleep as long as possible, because the contractions were only 10 minutes apart. I brushed my teeth and started looking for a few last minute things for the hospital bag, but the contractions were getting closer together, about every 7 minutes, and it was difficult.
Justin stumbled out of the bedroom around 4:15 and asked what was going on. I said I was in labor, he asked if he could take a quick shower, and I said yes.
I started gathering clothes for the girls for the week, but contractions were becoming excruciating at every 5 minutes. Hannah woke up, I told her what was going on, and she woke up Abigail...who was very upset and vocal about being woken up from her "good dreams" and "deep sleep".
Justin got out of the shower, called his brother, and we were in the car really quickly, but contractions were awful. Completely horrible.
I called the hospital to let them know we were coming, and couldn’t talk through a contraction. I said they were every five minutes, but it was actually closer to 4. We dropped the kids off at Travis and Christina's and zipped over to the hospital, and contractions were every 3 minutes.
I got in at 5:10, and thank goodness they were expecting us. It's probably the only reason I was allowed to get an epidural. Every contraction was agony while the anesthesiologist prepped me. I got the epidural in just after 5:30, but blah, there was no medicine in it yet. Finally medicine got put in it, and pain slowly started to dissipate. It was barely working, but it took the edge off just enough for active labor to explode forth like a waterfall of fire and lava and boiling water that spatters violently out of a pot and screams against the hot stove top.
I will never say I can do labor without an epidural again. I would have died. Even with it barely starting to work.
Baby George was out after maybe 5 pushes after I insisted on an episiotomy before the fifth one. Placenta came out easily, and I thought that was the end of my pain.
Ha.
Oh how naïve I was.
It took us a while to leave the Labor & Delivery floor. The nurse helped me get cleaned off, put an absorbent mat thing under me and a rectangular diaper pad... thing. I continued to have pain in my uterus but thought it was okay.
The nurse was checking my vitals when she heard a dripping sound. Justin later said it was a puddle of blood on the floor. I didn't realize how big it was since I couldn't see, but I guess I had soaked through the large pad and the mat. Oops...
When we finally made it to the Recovery floor another doctor at my OBGYN place was on staff and came to check in, but I thought everything was normal and said not to worry. I fed George, but within the hour my bleeding and pain got worse, and I had him sent to the nursery and the doctor called back in. Within a minute of his doctorly investigation and kneading, a series of blood clots that looked like a mushed up 2nd placenta came spilling out.
He left after giving some instructions to the nurses, and I thought all was well. Unfortunately all was not well. I lost another few large blood clots and was feeling a bit dizzy but largely ignored it because my pain was manageable, and I assumed that meant I was fine.
Our lunch was brought in, and I wanted to hurry and eat it before I had to feed George at 11:30. The salmon I'd ordered looked pretty good, so I decided to start with that. I inclined the bed upward and started feeling dizzy, but I didn't pay any mind, leaned forward, and took a bite of the fish.
Immediately my ears started to ring. I struggled to chew the bite in my mouth. I couldn't breathe, and the room was spinning. I tried to reach for the phone to call my nurse, but I couldn't focus on it...like my hand didn't know what to do with it.
By this time I think Justin realized something might be off. He stood somewhere around me and asked what was wrong.
I said I couldn't breathe. Justin later said that my skin turned white "like a ghost". A nurse randomly opened the door. I think I said I couldn't breathe again.
I don't remember much of what happened in those next few minutes. I was told later that a rapid response alert was issued to prevent the situation from turning into cardiac arrest. All I remember was that people were around me and I vaguely recognized that I still couldn't breathe, but it no longer seemed important.
In hindsight the most alarming thing about the whole ordeal was realizing how I had no control over my life and couldn't even muster the ability to care or worry about it.
Someone turned on a bright light. Someone else put oxygen tubes up my nose. Someone else hooked an emergency IV in my left arm with something to raised my blood pressure. A doctor held my hand. I recognized his voice as the doctor who had helped me earlier, and I was filled with a feeling of reassurance. Nurses told me later there were at least a dozen people in the room working on me in various ways, and it reminded me of bees bustling and buzzing around a hive. A blood transfusion was ordered for me, and the oxygen tubes were switched with a mask.
As I regained clarity I wished that I had taken a bite of something else besides fish as it's pungent odor permeated the oxygen within the mask, but I also knew that feeling alert enough to want to complain was a good sign.
Then I remembered George. Was he okay? How was he going to eat? What time was it?
I couldn't move my limbs very well, so I knew there wasn't really much that could be done. So after checking with Justin, I gave a nurse permission to feed George formula through a tiny tube attached to her pinky.
Long story short, I got the transfusion, needed another one on Monday, and needed a third one on Tuesday. George is breastfeeding okay in spite of the setbacks, and recovery is way harder than I thought it would be.
I wish I had prepared more. I wish the kids had more clothes laid out and ready for them for school. I wish I had more strength.
When I got home I cried a lot and felt useless and weak. Last night was really hard, and I thought I might have to go to the hospital again, because I was dizzy, short of breath, and my heart felt like it was too fast, but fortunately that did not happen.
I'm still having trouble, but I feel measurably less hopeless. Linda volunteered to come over, and I'm surprised (and grateful...very grateful) she'll be able to drive the distance over and over.
I'm still not sure why this happened. I don't think I'll be able to have any more kids after this. At least...I don't think I would survive it. With Lydia I had the easiest delivery and recovery ever. I was foolish to assume I could bank on something like that again, but still...there's no way I could have expected this. I'm just glad and grateful that George is doing so well, and that I have friends and family here whom I have been able to rely on in this time of need. It's difficult to feel so low...knowing that I need the help, but I'm glad it's there, just the same.
Monday, February 15, 2016
Earnest Prayers
I had a good talk with Hannah about how hard it can be to be humble enough to seek and receive answers to prayers. She'd been missing a take-home library book for over 2 weeks. When Lydia "borrowed" the book I had a vague feeling that I shouldn't let her have it, but she loved the book so much, and it wasn't a battle I felt willing to fight at the time.
So yeah, it was my fault the book was missing. I had prayed nearly every day to find it, but I was pretty nonchalant about it, because I knew it was in a localized area and that I should search as hard as I could before asking God to solve my problems for me. It wasn't until last week that I really started looking and getting desperate to find it.
Well, Friday morning I woke up early and couldn't sleep, and amidst my sleep-deprived stupor I really talked out my heart via a sleepy prayer about how I was worried about late fines, and how I felt like I had failed Hannah for not listening to promptings in the first place, and I asked God to please help me find the book before school. Well, for what I think is the first (maybe second) time in my life, I actually saw an image of the answer in my mind, and it was a little brown box in the living room that was filled with toys.
I fell back asleep for an hour, eventually woke up and helped Hannah get ready for school. When I walked downstairs to make sure she had her coat, snowpants, backpack, etc. I saw the box and dumped it out, and right there, laying flat near the bottom of the box, was Hannah's missing library book.
How humbling, how amazing. I am blown away every time Heavenly Father sees fit to show myself and my children that there is no miracle too small. Hannah and Abigail I feel are beginning to understand why I have such a firm testimony of prayer, and I hope it's helping them get one too.
So yeah, it was my fault the book was missing. I had prayed nearly every day to find it, but I was pretty nonchalant about it, because I knew it was in a localized area and that I should search as hard as I could before asking God to solve my problems for me. It wasn't until last week that I really started looking and getting desperate to find it.
Well, Friday morning I woke up early and couldn't sleep, and amidst my sleep-deprived stupor I really talked out my heart via a sleepy prayer about how I was worried about late fines, and how I felt like I had failed Hannah for not listening to promptings in the first place, and I asked God to please help me find the book before school. Well, for what I think is the first (maybe second) time in my life, I actually saw an image of the answer in my mind, and it was a little brown box in the living room that was filled with toys.
I fell back asleep for an hour, eventually woke up and helped Hannah get ready for school. When I walked downstairs to make sure she had her coat, snowpants, backpack, etc. I saw the box and dumped it out, and right there, laying flat near the bottom of the box, was Hannah's missing library book.
How humbling, how amazing. I am blown away every time Heavenly Father sees fit to show myself and my children that there is no miracle too small. Hannah and Abigail I feel are beginning to understand why I have such a firm testimony of prayer, and I hope it's helping them get one too.
Deeper emotions beyond the veil
I wasn't sure if I felt comfortable enough typing this on a public blog, but I don't want to forget it, and this is my current journal for all intents and purposes.
There have been times in my life when my joy was so full, when I felt so filled with spiritual happiness, maybe even glory, that I felt like I'd gotten a glimpse of something more than I should be able to in this temporal frame.
I bring this up, because I had a dream about a month ago that was the complete opposite, which I will get to in a moment.
This pregnancy has been really hard for me emotionally. Though I did my darndest not to show it, I have been either depressed or manically irritable throughout most of it. Even when family was visiting for Christmas I felt inundated with emptiness and had to pretend it was all okay. That seems to have leveled off, but unfortunately Justin received the brunt of my callousness, crying, despair, and just plain meanness at times.
There was a point when he wasn't handling this swimmingly, and I in my depression and overemotional, erratic state wished that I had never had any children and could just leave. When this feeling peaked, I had a dream that I cannot forget.
In the dream I had chosen to leave Justin and the kids and seek my own vain path through life. We were in the spirit world, and I saw Justin and the kids with both of our families. I was separated from them. I couldn't reach them. No one could even hear me.
The emptiness I felt was beyond any feeling I'd ever had before in my temporal memory. It went beyond the pit of my stomach into an abyss of crushing nothingness.
It transcended any despair and sadness I had ever felt, and I not even sure there are words in the English language that can really describe it. It was feeling so empty and alone that gravity felt heavier, pushing on every part of me so much that I felt sickened with a thick weight of bitter hollowness.
It seems to be an oxymoron, but I'd never felt so miserable and alone, and I woke up feeling sickened with myself.
There are parts of our brain we never use, and I always figured we'd be able to after this life. Perhaps that goes for some emotions. There is eternal happiness greater than anything we have the capacity to feel in this short life. It makes sense that it's the same on the opposite side of the spectrum.
I can't really explain in an accurate way how truly awful it was. It's a perspective I never want to lose, but I hope to God that I never feel that way again.
There have been times in my life when my joy was so full, when I felt so filled with spiritual happiness, maybe even glory, that I felt like I'd gotten a glimpse of something more than I should be able to in this temporal frame.
I bring this up, because I had a dream about a month ago that was the complete opposite, which I will get to in a moment.
This pregnancy has been really hard for me emotionally. Though I did my darndest not to show it, I have been either depressed or manically irritable throughout most of it. Even when family was visiting for Christmas I felt inundated with emptiness and had to pretend it was all okay. That seems to have leveled off, but unfortunately Justin received the brunt of my callousness, crying, despair, and just plain meanness at times.
There was a point when he wasn't handling this swimmingly, and I in my depression and overemotional, erratic state wished that I had never had any children and could just leave. When this feeling peaked, I had a dream that I cannot forget.
In the dream I had chosen to leave Justin and the kids and seek my own vain path through life. We were in the spirit world, and I saw Justin and the kids with both of our families. I was separated from them. I couldn't reach them. No one could even hear me.
The emptiness I felt was beyond any feeling I'd ever had before in my temporal memory. It went beyond the pit of my stomach into an abyss of crushing nothingness.
It transcended any despair and sadness I had ever felt, and I not even sure there are words in the English language that can really describe it. It was feeling so empty and alone that gravity felt heavier, pushing on every part of me so much that I felt sickened with a thick weight of bitter hollowness.
It seems to be an oxymoron, but I'd never felt so miserable and alone, and I woke up feeling sickened with myself.
There are parts of our brain we never use, and I always figured we'd be able to after this life. Perhaps that goes for some emotions. There is eternal happiness greater than anything we have the capacity to feel in this short life. It makes sense that it's the same on the opposite side of the spectrum.
I can't really explain in an accurate way how truly awful it was. It's a perspective I never want to lose, but I hope to God that I never feel that way again.
Friday, January 29, 2016
Answered prayers and small miracles
Today after school Hannah came in crying. She had used her class points to buy a silver bracelet from the class store. She let Abigail hold it after they got off of the bus, and somewhere along the walk home Abigail accidentally dropped it in the snow.
I said a quick prayer and immediately put on my coat and snow boots to help Abigail with the search while Hannah stayed inside with Lydia.
Feeling self conscious with cars driving by, I said another quick prayer in my mind and hoped it would be enough, and we retraced Abigail's path from the bus stop.
Abigail walked past me as we crossed the street on the way back, and I remembered the times my dad used prayer to miraculously find car keys on the beach, and on a separate occasion - his glasses in the ocean.
Losing my self-consciousness enough to take off the hat covering my messy hair and kneel on the corner of the street for all the world to see, I prayed. I prayed that I wasn't sure I had the faith of my father, but asked if the Lord would hear me anyway.
I continued to pray as cars passed by, and partway through heard the words in my mind, "The picnic table."
I dismissed the thought, thinking that the picnic table was a distinct landmark of the grassy area between the street and my house, and that I must have subconsciously supplied my own answer. I continued to pray.
After I finished my prayer I mustered up every ounce of humbleness I could and just listened. Again I heard the words in my mind. "Go to the picnic table." Though I still doubted, I decided to follow this train of thought.
I got up, put on my hat, and walked in a slow, straight line through the snow toward the picnic table while Abigail searched where she had walked. Bootprints and tracks of many other children going to and from the bus stop throughout the past few days blurred together on the ground, and I just walked forward.
Hannah came out as I neared the picnic table, declaring that she was going to help us look for the bracelet, and I stopped. Looking down, partly buried in a small patch of fresh powder, lay a silvery bangle right in front of me, right in front of the picnic table.
I picked it up, shaking the snow off, and Hannah exclaimed with what I can only describe as unadulturated euphoria and joy that it was her bracelet. I was floored. Even though I had doubted the answer, even though I was unsure of my faith, Heavenly Father had helped us, heard us, answered our prayers.
Abigail was still sad about losing it in the first place, but Hannah and I both hugged her tightly and reassured her that because of what happened, we were able to witness a miracle. A tiny miracle - but a miracle nonetheless.
I said a quick prayer and immediately put on my coat and snow boots to help Abigail with the search while Hannah stayed inside with Lydia.
Feeling self conscious with cars driving by, I said another quick prayer in my mind and hoped it would be enough, and we retraced Abigail's path from the bus stop.
Abigail walked past me as we crossed the street on the way back, and I remembered the times my dad used prayer to miraculously find car keys on the beach, and on a separate occasion - his glasses in the ocean.
Losing my self-consciousness enough to take off the hat covering my messy hair and kneel on the corner of the street for all the world to see, I prayed. I prayed that I wasn't sure I had the faith of my father, but asked if the Lord would hear me anyway.
I continued to pray as cars passed by, and partway through heard the words in my mind, "The picnic table."
I dismissed the thought, thinking that the picnic table was a distinct landmark of the grassy area between the street and my house, and that I must have subconsciously supplied my own answer. I continued to pray.
After I finished my prayer I mustered up every ounce of humbleness I could and just listened. Again I heard the words in my mind. "Go to the picnic table." Though I still doubted, I decided to follow this train of thought.
I got up, put on my hat, and walked in a slow, straight line through the snow toward the picnic table while Abigail searched where she had walked. Bootprints and tracks of many other children going to and from the bus stop throughout the past few days blurred together on the ground, and I just walked forward.
Hannah came out as I neared the picnic table, declaring that she was going to help us look for the bracelet, and I stopped. Looking down, partly buried in a small patch of fresh powder, lay a silvery bangle right in front of me, right in front of the picnic table.
I picked it up, shaking the snow off, and Hannah exclaimed with what I can only describe as unadulturated euphoria and joy that it was her bracelet. I was floored. Even though I had doubted the answer, even though I was unsure of my faith, Heavenly Father had helped us, heard us, answered our prayers.
Abigail was still sad about losing it in the first place, but Hannah and I both hugged her tightly and reassured her that because of what happened, we were able to witness a miracle. A tiny miracle - but a miracle nonetheless.
Monday, January 25, 2016
Stronger than you think
Post 3/3
Last night I was up most of the night with Lydia. Her cough was terrible, and I kept praying and half-asleep praying that she would stop coughing so that she wouldn't be so miserable.
I'm not sure what time it was when I hit my breaking point. Lydia was absolutely miserable, and I spoke my mind to the Lord, expressing that I knew the Lord could take away her sickness and there was no good reason for Him not to.
After a few more minutes I said that I wished that I had gotten sick instead of her so that she wouldn't be suffering, and immediately received an answer in my mind: "You said you couldn't handle anymore."
I paused. For months I have constantly voiced my inability to take on anymore trials, praying and praying that I would not get sick, not have any problems, and not have to deal with stressful issues.
In that middle of the night moment I realized that I have been selfish and lazy, and I remembered my dad telling me many years ago, "You're stronger than you think you are."
I changed my prayer. 'Please help me to be strong...Please help Lydia to bear her burden...Please help us to be strong.'
I chanted it in both aloud and in my mind throughout the rest of the night. Yes, I was still up most of the night taking care of her, and yes, she continued to cough steadily, but she no longer cried miserably, and I no longer melodramatically bewailed the perils of my life. I praised her strength every time she needed help, and I prayed that it would continue, and it did.
Morning came, and Lydia's bearing her sickness tolerably. I have a renewed sense of vigor I did not expect, and I'm going to chase that feeling and keep praying.
I can be strong.
I can be strong.
The Blessings of Getting Set Apart
Post 2/3
Two weeks ago I stayed after church to get set apart for my new calling: Sunbeam C Teacher for Primary. I had neglected to do so for weeks with my previous Primary Secretary Calling and didn't bother getting it done at all when I was called for a brief time as Relief Society Substitute, but Brother Phillips said that all Primary Teachers should get set apart, and I had nothing to lose, so I went in.
Brother Phillips, who is over the primary in the bishopric, gave me my blessing. I don't tell many people about my fears and aspirations or anxieties, so it surprised me when he almost immediately led off with my fears of being able to handle having 4 children.
I was promised that the baby would be healthy and strong, which had weighed on my mind for some time. I was blessed that I would be able to handle another child, and that I when I did feel overly stressed, that putting on wholesome, spiritual music would create an atmosphere of calm and help bring a spirit of peace into the home. I was also blessed with the reassurance that when I felt overwhelmed that I could turn to the Lord and He would help.
Way less was said about my calling itself, but it was all good things. My lessons apparently won't always go to plan, but my being a teacher to those children will build a foundation for them throughout their lives.
I have a great deal of love for those crazy sunbeams, but it's had an added effect. Teaching them has helped me see my own children in a different light. It's helped me love them with a new layer, a layer of love for a child that only came to me after being called as a primary teacher.
I am grateful that I was set apart. I really felt like God was speaking through Brother Phillips, and it was awesome that I got all of those "bonus blessings" about having a baby. Being a primary teacher is really hard, but I'm glad I'm there to help.
Two weeks ago I stayed after church to get set apart for my new calling: Sunbeam C Teacher for Primary. I had neglected to do so for weeks with my previous Primary Secretary Calling and didn't bother getting it done at all when I was called for a brief time as Relief Society Substitute, but Brother Phillips said that all Primary Teachers should get set apart, and I had nothing to lose, so I went in.
Brother Phillips, who is over the primary in the bishopric, gave me my blessing. I don't tell many people about my fears and aspirations or anxieties, so it surprised me when he almost immediately led off with my fears of being able to handle having 4 children.
I was promised that the baby would be healthy and strong, which had weighed on my mind for some time. I was blessed that I would be able to handle another child, and that I when I did feel overly stressed, that putting on wholesome, spiritual music would create an atmosphere of calm and help bring a spirit of peace into the home. I was also blessed with the reassurance that when I felt overwhelmed that I could turn to the Lord and He would help.
Way less was said about my calling itself, but it was all good things. My lessons apparently won't always go to plan, but my being a teacher to those children will build a foundation for them throughout their lives.
I have a great deal of love for those crazy sunbeams, but it's had an added effect. Teaching them has helped me see my own children in a different light. It's helped me love them with a new layer, a layer of love for a child that only came to me after being called as a primary teacher.
I am grateful that I was set apart. I really felt like God was speaking through Brother Phillips, and it was awesome that I got all of those "bonus blessings" about having a baby. Being a primary teacher is really hard, but I'm glad I'm there to help.
Kings shall carry them
Post 1/3
A couple of months ago when I was still substitute teaching in Relief Society I taught a lesson about the Principles of Temporal and Spiritual Welfare. I had an epiphany while teaching that lesson that had to do with Members of the Church helping others in times of crisis.
There is a scripture that refers to Kings carrying the Israelites upon their shoulders, and I had never really thought much about it until I started planning my lesson. Even so...I didn't want to draw any tenuous parallels that might just be wishful thinking, so I put it out of my mind...UNTIL I read D&C 75:28 and read this:
"And again, verily I say unto you, that every man who is obliged to provide for his own family, let him provide, and he shall in nowise lose his crown;..."
His crown! I called my dad and talked to him about the Kings carrying them upon their shoulders may refer to the members of the church taking care of others during the Last Days, and he thought that was interesting.
Days went by, and I was listening to my favorite Fantasy Football Podcast, when the analyst mentioned that his mom loved genealogy and discovered that they were related to a peasant who had worked his way up the chain and became and advisor to a monarch.
I pondered that for a while. Justin and I have so much royalty in our lineage that I just assumed everyone was related to royalty, but maybe...they're not.
And of course that brought me back to the scripture I'd been thinking of all along:
2 Nephi 6: 6-7
"6 And now, these are the words: Thus saith the Lord God: Behold, I will lift up mine hand to the Gentiles, and set up my standard to the people; and they shall bring thy sons in their arms, and thy daughters shall be carried upon their shoulders.
7 And kings shall be thy nursing fathers, and their queens thy nursing mothers;..."
I had already made the connection that since we are Children of God, we have the potential to become royalty...spiritually. But what if that's not all? What if many of the pioneers descend from nobility, and we literally have the blood of Kings and Queens running through our veins, and THAT's what the scripture means??
Anyway, it really makes me think and want to be prepared to help my family and be able to help others.
A couple of months ago when I was still substitute teaching in Relief Society I taught a lesson about the Principles of Temporal and Spiritual Welfare. I had an epiphany while teaching that lesson that had to do with Members of the Church helping others in times of crisis.
There is a scripture that refers to Kings carrying the Israelites upon their shoulders, and I had never really thought much about it until I started planning my lesson. Even so...I didn't want to draw any tenuous parallels that might just be wishful thinking, so I put it out of my mind...UNTIL I read D&C 75:28 and read this:
"And again, verily I say unto you, that every man who is obliged to provide for his own family, let him provide, and he shall in nowise lose his crown;..."
His crown! I called my dad and talked to him about the Kings carrying them upon their shoulders may refer to the members of the church taking care of others during the Last Days, and he thought that was interesting.
Days went by, and I was listening to my favorite Fantasy Football Podcast, when the analyst mentioned that his mom loved genealogy and discovered that they were related to a peasant who had worked his way up the chain and became and advisor to a monarch.
I pondered that for a while. Justin and I have so much royalty in our lineage that I just assumed everyone was related to royalty, but maybe...they're not.
And of course that brought me back to the scripture I'd been thinking of all along:
2 Nephi 6: 6-7
"6 And now, these are the words: Thus saith the Lord God: Behold, I will lift up mine hand to the Gentiles, and set up my standard to the people; and they shall bring thy sons in their arms, and thy daughters shall be carried upon their shoulders.
7 And kings shall be thy nursing fathers, and their queens thy nursing mothers;..."
I had already made the connection that since we are Children of God, we have the potential to become royalty...spiritually. But what if that's not all? What if many of the pioneers descend from nobility, and we literally have the blood of Kings and Queens running through our veins, and THAT's what the scripture means??
Anyway, it really makes me think and want to be prepared to help my family and be able to help others.
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