A New Toy

Oui. It's a Wii. Oui. (I wonder if it's funny to the french when they say it)
Dillan's just a LITTLE excited about it. Leah too. Especially because her controller is pink. Don't even think about using it. Don't even TOUCH it! It's HERS!
We each chose a game, but made sure everyone in the family would be able enjoy them and that they were age appropriate. We sure do love Mario!
It's been put to good use to get Dillan to obey.
And it joined the family just in time for Spring Break! Hooray!

the tradition continues...

AND WE ARE SOOOOOOO SUPER PROUD!

I really didn't think he would do it. I didn't think he'd even TRY it.
I was worried. I knew that if he fell and got hurt, it would be impossible to get him to try again.

And yet...

San Clemente: Tradition

and it's not going to go away any time soon.

It was a definite sanctuary from reality. Most things about that place have not changed since I was younger. It's so simple. Not extravagant. Not over-the-top. A lot of the sounds and smells are the same. The mornings feel the same. So does the return hike from the beach. And the evenings.

Playing with Daddy. Everyday the kids asked "Does Daddy work today?"

When I was packing the kids' clothes for this trip, I would try to play-out a typical beach day in my head from morning to night. In the morning, it's cooler out and so sweats and shoes are normally needed. Then it gradually gets warmer and so you change to to a swimsuit and flipflops. Then you're at the beach most of the day soaking up sun and sand.


We love the beach! Daddy and Dillan's smiley face sand castle

When you get back to the campsite, you round up some clean clothes, a towel, soap, and a couple quarters for a refreshing shower. Then you put on clean clothes, but it's still warm out, so shorts and flipflops are acceptable. But with flipflops, your feet get dirty. Then you're playing some more, riding bikes, flying kites, whatever really, until dinner.


Leah loved going on bike rides in her trailer

After dinner, the sun starts to go down and it gets a little colder. A fire is started and you change clothes again. Sweatshirts and shoes come back. Your clothes become infused with campfire smell, plus marshmallows, cinnamon/sugar and butter get all over the place.


Water balloons with the girls. They had a blast!

Then it's late and everyone goes to bed. You scrounge around, usually in the dark, searching for your PJs and toothbrush. If you're lucky enough to find them, you pull off the stinky clothes as carefully as possible without being necked in front of your little brother. Then you take one last walk to the bathroom before turning in for the night. Hopefully you're not too cold or too sunburned to get a good night sleep to be all ready for the next day!


We even hooked up with an old friend-Ryder!

So it's a number of clothes changes on any given day. We had a ton of clothes. I was also strategic as well with WHAT clothes I packed. I didn't want my kids to look homeless, but I didn't want any of their nice clothes to get permanent stains either.
It's a delicate balancing game, really. And always unpredictable.
If I remain too uptight about what they're wearing or if their feet are clean, then I don't enjoy myself, nor do the kids.

The older generation even asked this time if, in the future, we would continue coming to this place and keep the tradition going with our kids.
I know I will. I believe both my siblings and many of my cousins feel the same way.

Of course, we will have to take it up a notch.
Maybe get a huge pole to set up in our campsite with a large blue strobe light on the top that never turns off. Never.

Days

So many questions and not a lot of answers.

I may never have all the answers I want. I'm realizing this.

I'm trying to avoid asking Why?
I would drive myself crazy if I asked why all the time.

Elder Scott said not to ask Heavenly Father why, but instead what is it that He wants me to learn from this experience? He also spoke about thanking him for placing so much trust in us when He gives us the opportunity to overcome difficulties.

I can't get warm. I feel so cold all the time.
It's not even good days and bad days. It's more like good minute, bad 10 minutes.

On Monday I had a nice conversation with my doctor.
I wanted to know if it was still possible to have a healthy baby after going through all this.
He simply said "You Will."
He also said that he thought I was "ahead of the game both spiritually and emotionally".
He told me I was strong.
I certainly don't feel strong.

Chris went back to work on Monday.
I wish he could be home all the time.
It just makes everything better when he's home.

Talking with my mom, she reminded me that we are commanded to be happy in this life.
That means that we have to put our faith and trust in Heavenly Father and Jesus to help us get through rough times-. That's how we learn. That's how we become better.
It's another lesson in humility.
I can't be a control freak.
I am not in control.
I don't know why that doesn't stick.

The baby is fine. That's what Mom told me.
He's at the family estate in Heaven.
Chris' grandmother is holding him.

Trying to make a follow-up appointment in San Diego is annoying!
Every time I call, I am put on hold for an hour.
My cell phone is touchy out here, and can't remain on hold for an hour.
Then I call back and everyone's out to lunch.
I don't really want to see that doctor again, anyway. She may hurt me again.

Leah pooped in her potty last night. No frills. She just took off her diaper and went.
If Dillan hadn't said anything, I probably would have never known. Until later.
Thank goodness Chris was ready and willing to take care of it.

I got a card in the mail from Grandma. I have the best family in the world.
It's a hallmark card. It says
The most beautiful stones have been tossed by the wind and washed by the water
and polished to brilliance by life's strongest storms.

I have received so many phone calls, emails, cards, meals, plants, flowers. No, I'm not alone.
Detta and Amber mentioned me on their blog.
No, I'm not alone.
The prayers and thoughts are working. Thank You

Chris wants to plant a tree.
I want to release balloons with the kids. They'd love it!
Everyday I go online searching for a piece of jewelry. I'm not sure what I want, but I really want to remember my baby in some way.
I want it to be discreet. I don't wear a lot of jewelry anyway.
I want it unique.
I'll find something soon.

pain

On March 3 I was scheduled to see my doctor and hopefully find out the "flavor" of the baby. Chris was there and we had Leah with us. The ultrasound started. I saw a head and a spine developed. I never see what the doctor tries to point out to me, so wasn't sure what to expect. Lots of fluid, the doctor said. That's good.
Looking for the heart. Looking for a strong heartbeat.
Nothing.
Oh no.
I closed my eyes tight and starting whispering a prayer. Please. Please. Please. That's all I could say. I couldn't look at Chris.
The doctor left the room saying something about calling one of his high-risk pregnancy colleagues. My doctor knows me, he knew I wanted closure.
Chris grabbed me and we sobbed together. I wanted this to be a bad dream. One that I could wake up and it'd be over. I didn't want this to be happening. I just wanted to know the flavor of my baby, pick up my son from school, go to the grocery store, and eat a In N Out hamburger while telling my kids all about the new brother or sister they would have this summer. That was my plan.
I didn't want to go to San Diego to see some doctor I had never met who could tell me my options. I didn't want to call my mother to tell her what was happening. I just didn't want any of this!
Dr B gave me a hug and sent us away with a bunch of papers saying they were expecting us.
I couldn't even speak. My voice was gone.

On the drive down to SD, we were a huge mess of emotions. Both of us. Both of us in shock with what was happening, and not knowing what to expect next. It was awful.
I met with the doctor who gave me 3 options. 2 of them were completely out of the question. Induce labor, get the baby out, perform an autopsy (with our consent).
So I was set up at the hospital. The first few nurses I met were all very polite and very sympathetic. I didn't say much to them.
I was hooked up to an IV, and a suppository inserted to induce labor.
At this point I was afraid. I had been induced with both of my kids. Dillan was 12-13 hours + 2 hours of pushing. Leah was 18-19 hours and maybe 1 push.
The thought of lying in that bed all day and all night just allowing all my emotions to stew and fester. No way.
One question kept entering my thoughts.
Over and over again: How am I supposed to get through this?

I was in and out of sleep.
Reviewing all the questions asked to me over and over again by doctors and nurses. I began second guessing any answers I gave.
When was the last time you felt the baby move? Have you been sick? Have you been bleeding? Did you know something was wrong?
My mind was fuzzy and restless at the same time.
Chris gave me a blessing, trying to comfort me as he knew how. I knew I wasn't alone, and I so desperately wanted to feel peace.

At one point, around 2 am, not sure if I had been asleep or not, I felt a lot of pain. I was given some pain meds in my IV. That took care of it. I was then asked again if I wanted an epidural. I had one each with my other kids. I told her probably, but then she checked me and said I was about a 6 and ready. She said I could still have the epi, but it would all be over in about a half an hour, so it may not be necessary.
The doctor came in and told me to push. I did. At this point I think my senses were dulled, or I just shut everything off.
The room was dark, except for one dim light behind the doctor. Everyone was silent, except for my sobs. There were two new nurses in the room, with a draped cart and one holding a blanket.
The doctor said the feet were first. I pushed a few more times, but nothing else happened. She said my cervix needed to relax and then the head would come out.
The lights were turned off, everyone left the room, and I lay there a while longer. I have no idea how long. Lost in my thoughts.
I felt a strong contraction, and a pop. It was over.
Everyone returned to the room. I covered my eyes. It was like a scary movie.
Chris was so calm.
The doctor asked if I wanted to see the baby. I shook my head. It was too much. I thought I may have a chance to change my mind later. Chris really wanted to see the baby, I knew it was important to him.

The doctor wasn't done with me. The placenta would not come. I was given pitocin, but it didn't work. The doctor, more than once, stuck her fist where it did not belong to try and get it. That was the last time I saw that doctor, even though she was around. I didn't care if I never EVER saw her again.
I was told I was going to the OR to have a DNC. This would be a first.
I was given a cup of something really really nasty that was supposed to neutralize my stomach so I wouldn't vomit.
I was wheeled away, completely exhausted. The OR was freezing. I was moved onto the table, then told I would be given a spinal, not an epidural, for the procedure. The told me to sit up and arch my back. The next thing I remember was feeling warm and dizzy. Then I managed to open my eyes just enough to see a kidney shaped dish under my chin with two nurses keeping me stable on the edge of the bed.

I woke up with 5 or 6 blankets on top of me in the recovery room. I heard Chris' voice, and tried to look at him, but my eyes would not allow it. He said he had a few minutes alone with the baby. It was a boy.
He then told me he looked perfect. He was perfect.
The doctor told him they would not be performing an autopsy, the baby looked too good. There was no reason. He then told me that pictures were taken for us to keep, along with prints.
A memory packet.

We spoke with a counselor, then with another doctor, before we were allowed to leave the hospital. I knew I would be full of questions, and all I wanted were answers.
Chris held the pillowcase-like packet in his hand, along with all sorts of paperwork.
I was given a Comfort Cub to take home. It's a weighted teddy bear with a note from another mom who suffered the loss of a child. Chris couldn't believe I agreed to take it home. I can't stand stuffed animals. I told him I would keep it and then give it to someone else one day.

Loss

I suffer a loss. It hurts. I am told that one day it will get easier to deal with. I am told that it is easier to deal with when I write. I have always enjoyed writing. So now writing is therapy.

I haven't had any problems EVER getting pregnant. EVER. I had two children without any difficulties. I knew I wanted to have more children, and got pregnant again. That pregnancy started out different. Lots of spotting, no nausea, I knew something wasn't right. I had an ultrasound and was told that my pregnancy was an "empty sac" and I would miscarry. My body went through the natural process of a miscarriage and, while it was a little scary, it wasn't too difficult to overcome. Immediately I had an outpouring of phone calls and messages from friends, family, even strangers who shared their similar stories. It was as if everyone around me had suffered the same thing and it was just my turn to share the experience.
My doctor told me that there was no reason to wait to try to get pregnant again. I was also reminded that I had two beautiful, exceptionally healthy children at home and I needed to count my blessings already received.
My kids are the best. They are not perfect, but they come close. My kids have never had an ear infection. NEVER. We don't have any chronic illnesses or conditions that keep us from experiencing our world. I expect more from them than I should, I forget they are kids. I forget that I'm the one who teaches them about the world they live in and I'm the one responsible for them. I'm the only mother they are ever going to have. They are each so different in personality. They are born that way. I am still learning and may never get it exactly right. I love them and do the best I can for them.

So when I had a suspicion back in late November that I was pregnant, I decided that I was going to keep it to myself and not get my hopes up. Near Christmastime I started to feel nauseous. I called my doctor and, because of my recent history, was sent immediately to get an ultrasound. I was worried. I didn't want a repeat of September. The technician proudly showed me the screen with my baby inside. She said I was measuring at 12 weeks and sent me home with a disc of pictures and a heartbeat. I was so excited. Beyond excited. I couldn't wait to tell everyone. It was such a relief to my heart.
The nausea was there and it lingered, even after the first trimester. Plus I probably complained more than I should have. I didn't want anything to do with chicken. I never buy red meat, so chicken is usually a staple in our house. But not when Mommy was sick. I couldn't tolerate dairy either. Sugar seemed to help me feel better, even though I knew it wasn't the best thing.
My doctors visits were great. It was so nice to see an active, growing baby inside, and start making plans for the future. Moving, Chris finding a new job, Chris finishing school, Dillan starting Kindergarten, Leah starting Preschool, and baby and me at home.

Once again, I put myself in control. I make the plans and I intend to have them carried out.

when's it gonna stick?

Sleeping Beauty

Unfortunately, this only lasts until the wee hours of the morning. That's when she finds her way to Mommy's bed. Either quietly on her tiptoes or sprinting down the hall screaming. This makes for restless nights for both of us.

Solution?

1. Get out of bed and take her back to her own bed.
2. Get a bigger bed.
3. Get over it.

I'm not sure how much longer I can last. Once Baby #3 is here, there has to be a solution.
There just has to.