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...
Sunday, August 14, 2016
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)