Merry Christmas.....Maybe?

For weeks and weeks I have been reading on facebook about all of the people in my neighborhood who have had the stomach flu, but we were stomach flu free. I am sure the reason was because my younger children are home schooled and we have pretty much stayed inside since my surgery. I even thought about staying home from church last week to keep it away. In the end it wouldn't have done any good. My oldest daughter brought it home. She first felt sick Sunday evening and was sick through the night. She felt much better around noon. I was hopeful that maybe it was a bit of food poisoning, but no.

Yesterday, right in middle of a marathon baking session, someone reported that my seven year old son was sick. Half hour later it was my 3 year old son. An hour later my 11 year old daughter started and my 15 year old son was right behind her. It was 4 AM when my husband bolted out of bed. So far the only hold outs have been my 5 year old daughter and myself. The good news is that all of the sickies from yesterday are feeling better. The bad news is that it may still hit the ones left. I so don't want to be sick. I want to go to church on Christmas. It is so rare that we get that opportunity. At least hubby doesn't have to go back to work until Tuesday.

Pictures of Angels

It has been less than a week since I posted about my stillborn son Nathaniel and included a picture of him. Since that time a well known television family, the Duggars have come under fire for pictures of their baby, who was about the same gestational age as my son. This makes me so sad. The pictures I have of Nathaniel mean more to me than any earthly item I have. If there was a fire, once my living children and husband are safe, chose to safe my photos of him. Everything else can be replaced. They can not. Once of the reasons why I did chose to post a picture of him was so that there would be a place where his picture could be retrieved if my physical copies were somehow lost.

I think what people need to understand most is that these pictures are precious to the parents who have lost a child. We don't view them as gross or disgusting or horrendous, any more than we would think those things of pictures of our living children. I honestly wish we had more pictures, not less. I wish we would have taken pictures before we dressed him and of the tiny details like his hands and feet or even his chin or his ankles. Anything that would help me remember everything about him. I still have the tiny cap from his burial gown and it reminds me of how small he was.

Nat

Normally I do some kind of tribute to my Son Nathaniel on his birthday, October 28th. This year was two days post-surgery and unable to even get out of bed, much less to the computer, so it is coming a little late. Fair warning, I will be talking about my experience of pregnancy loss in detail.

It was 13 years ago. Hubby and I were excited to be expecting our third child. It was really one of those incredible times in our life when things just seemed "right." We had recently moved out of our tiny apartment and were searching for our first home. We were staying with my parents. Hubby had a great job that he loved. Our two small children were well and happy. Life seemed storybook perfect. Every morning when Hubby came home from work, we would lay on the bed together. He would hold his hand on my belly and talk to our tiny child inside. More than my previous two pregnancies, Hubby was deeply involved and had formed a strong attachment to our sweet baby. Maybe it was because you could sense his spirit so strongly. I often spoke to my baby throughout the day. It felt like he was already in the room with me.

We had decided on names for our baby, Nathaniel Jacob or Natasha Elaine. From the time we first found out we were going to have another baby, we had called him Nat. Every prenatal appointment went beautifully well and we were expecting to bring home another happy healthy baby. I had horrible morning sickness (as I did with all 7 pregnancies) but honestly I didn't mind. I loved being pregnant. I loved feeling the little flutters of life inside of me.

I was almost halfway through my pregnancy when one evening I remember feeling a horrible sense of dread. I remember saying out loud "Where are you, Nat. I can't feel you." The next morning I woke to the tiniest splotch of blood. I called my doctor who told me to meet him at the hospital. They took me right back to the ultrasound room. I remember the image of my tiny baby popping up right away. but he wasn't moving. The US tech searched and searched but she couldn't find a heartbeat. I was in shock. I remember Hubby making the call to our family waiting at home. It seemed like a bad dream. It couldn't really be happening. I told my doctor, "There has to be something your can do. Fix this!" I was sobbing. My husband was crying. The doctor was crying. At some point my MIL who worked at the hospital came in, and some one brought the Elders (From the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints) in to give me a blessing. The grief counselor from the hospital came in. She was asking me about the baby. Had we chosen a name. All of the sudden I was certain. My baby had been a boy. Nathaniel Jacob.

The doctor explained what was happening. The tiny splotch of blood had been my cervix starting to dilate. My body was preparing for labor. He sent me home to wait to labor to get stronger. He thought I would be more comfortable around my family than alone in a hospital room. All day we waited. We started to make funeral arrangements. It was further complicated by the timing. My birthday was Oct 30, and Halloween on the 31st. My sisters Birthday was Nov 1st. I didn't want bad memories attached to those days. I went to bed that night exhausted and grief stricken. In the early morning hours I felt contractions start. I still in bed when my water broke. Things went crazy after that. I went into the bathroom to clean up and get ready to go to the hospital. Instead the contractions got stronger and harder. I called for my husband and he grabbed my mom.

It was only a few minutes later, on the floor of my mom's bathroom that I delivered my son Nathaniel. My husband picked him up and handed him to me. He went to call the hospital and see what we needed to do. I was sitting on the edge of the tub, holding the baby when my mom noticed that I was hemorrhaging. She screamed for my husband, who rushed me to the hospital.

At the hospital (they do dumb things.) the nurse had me stand up to take my blood pressure. I felt like I was going to pass out. I kept telling myself I only had to stand up a minute longer. The next thing I knew, I was laying there with the doctor, nurse , and hubby screaming my name. The IV had already been hooked up and they were prepping me for surgery. At the last minute the retained piece of placenta finally let go and my uterus was able to contract enough to stop the bleeding. I was grateful to not have surgery that day.

Later in the evening we were able to dress our son for burial. We spent some time just staring at him. We examined each tiny finger and toe. We noticed that he definately had my chin, and Hubby's nose. He had Hubby's long legs. I memorized the feel of him in my hand. His little legs dangled across my wrist. We placed a tiny teddy bear and sweet little blanket in with him. We tried to say everything you would want to say to your child over a life time in only a few moments. The next day, Oct 29, we buried him next to his great great grandparents. Before the services we allowed a few family members to see him. Mostly my mom and Dad, my brother and his fiance (now wife) and my grandparents. We had a small service at the church in the Relief Society room. Dear friends came to sing "I am a Child of God" and "Families Can be Together Forever." A friend of ours talked. We carried his tiny coffin in our own car, on my lap to the cemetery. My paternal grandfather provided his cemetery plot. My maternal grandfather provided the coffin. Hubby dedicated the grave.

Sometimes it seems like just yesterday that I said goodbye to my sweet son. At first I went every Sunday to his grave. Then one Sunday I missed it. At first I cried, but then I realized it was OK to go on. We still talk about him. In fact one day I asked my seven year old son, who had broken something. I could tell by the look on his face that he knew he was in trouble....until he finally figured it out and said "Nathaniel did it,Mom." Grin....I don't think so. We were blessed to have a few pictures. My kids can look at them whenever they want to. They talk about Nathaniel, not with grief and pain, but wonder and curiosity. I am thankful that my family has been sealed for all time and eternity. That we can be together forever. I am thankful for the time, however short that I had with my son. I am thankful that knowing him made me a more loving and compassionate person. It helped me to grow and look outside myself. I am thankful for a loving Father In Heaven, who comforted my grief, and helped me find joy in life again.

Santa Claus

Growing up, Santa was very real to me. You see, when I saw Santa, he knew my name. He knew the names of my parents and grandparents. He knew what I wanted. Sometimes he would even show up at our house in the days before Christmas to visit with us. You see, I grew up in a fairly small community, and the same man was Santa for years and years. I was 16 years old when Santa stopped me at the end of the Christmas parade to stay and help him hand out candy canes to the children who came to visit him. I was still dressed in my marching band uniform complete with the huge plum on top of my hat, so I am sure I looked a bit like a tin solider. He then asked me to run around the building and pick up some more candy canes from "Mrs. Claus." As I rounded the corner, I saw the wife of one of my Grandfather's best friends standing there with a box full of candy canes. Then suddenly it made sense that Santa Claus knew me so well, because HE KNEW ME! I had known and loved this dear man for many years.

Sadly when West Nile Virus hit our state a few years ago, it claimed the life of this sweet man. My Grandpa died of cancer a few years before that. My heart ached when I heard the news. The world lost a kind and giving man. They lost someone who always greeted everyone he saw with a smile, someone who was forgiving. The loss was felt keenly throughout the small community that loved this man. He was the kind of man Santa should be.

I have been sadden hear of so many who choose not to have Santa as part of their life and traditions. For me Santa symbolized unconditional love, generosity, happiness, laughter, kindness and hope. Our Savior taught us all of the time through the use of parables and symbols. While the things that happened in the parables may not have been "real," it does not lessen their significance in any way. In fact the truths that they hold our treasures for anyone who wants to look for them. I believe that there are many great truths to be found in the legend of Santa. I hope more people would be like my friend and live their lives spreading joy and happiness. If it takes a red suit and a Santa hat to make that happen...I don't think that would be such a bad thing. :D

Grateful

My poor hubby has been sick with a cold the last several days. He almost never gets sick. I think that out of the last 17 years, I remember him being sick maybe three times. This is the most sick I have ever seen him. It has given me a whole new appreciation for everything that he has done for me over the last year and a half. I don't think that anyone outside of this house knows how very hard he worked to take care of us, because he never complains. While I had the opportunity to stay home and sleep in or take a nap when I wasn't feeling well, Hubby has not. He has to pull himself out of bed in the cold early mornings, work all day long, and a couple nights a week he has had to go to his second job. Once again, he doesn't complain. Last night we went to bed at 9:30, because he was exhausted. I think of all of the ways my sweet husband serves my family and I am so grateful for him.

Tonight, a friend of mine posted on facebook that she is feeling stressed and overwhelmed. She is a single mom to a large family. Honestly, I don't know how she does it. I know that I could not care for my family nearly as well without the love and support I receive every single day from my husband. He picks up were I leave off, time after time. He supports me and loves me, even when my failures are especially visible.

In other news, I am feeling SO much better. Today I walked with my 4 homeschool children around the block. Yes, It was slow (It took about a half hour.) but when I got home I wasn't out of breath. My heart wasn't pounding. My arms and legs didn't hurt from fatigue. It was such an exciting thing for me. I haven't felt this good in almost a year and a half. I am still anemic, but I am getting better every day and I love it!

Its all perspective.

Over the weekend my cute 3 year old son came over to me, so excited. He wanted me to look out the window. Outside the wind had kicked up and leaves were swirling and twirling through the air. He stood at the window for the longest time, watching it. It really was a beautiful sight and for a three year old boy was completely magical.

Imagine my disappointment when I logged into Facebook a bit later only to find that one of my neighbors was complaining about the same leaves blowing into her yard. "They're not my leaves" she said. "Why should I have to rake them?" It made me a little sad. She had totally missed the beauty of the moment. She didn't see the magic.

How many times do we miss out on the magic? Some days my kids drive me crazy. Sometimes my husband annoys me. Sometimes my friend hurt my feelings. I have to decide at that point....am I willing to miss the magic?

"Take it up with him"

Recently my good friend and I were talking and she related the following story.

My friend had just had her second child. The baby had some issues after her birth that were concerning and had to stay in the hospital a few extra days. A man from her ward made some comments to my friend that hurt and offended her. The next time she saw this mans wife she brought it up, telling the wife how offended and hurt she had been. The wife stopped her saying "If you have an issue with my husband please take it up with him. He is my husband and I love him. It hurts my heart when people speak badly about him."

My cute friend had enough wisdom to not take further offence. In fact she has adopted those words anytime someone tries to speak poorly of her own husband. I thought this was great! One of the things I think is very detrimental to marriages is that it seems like women get together and instantly gravitate to complaining about their husbands. If we made it a point to always speak kindly about the men we love, and not allow anyone else to speak unkindly, there would be so much less negativity.

Another good friend, who is the author of the blog http://beautopotamus.blogspot.com/ speaks so kindly of her husband. In almost 10 years of being friends with her, I have never heard her complain about her incredible husband. It is such a pleasant thing to visit with her and see the love that she and her husband share so openly.

I would love to take this opportunity to thank my incredible husband for all her has done for me. Over the course of the last year, he has not only worked 40+ hours at one job, but often left work just in time to go to work at his second job. If he was lucky enough to only work one job, he frequently came home just in time to take one (or more) of his children to this activity or that practice, still walking in the door at 8 or 9 PM. When he was lucky enough to be at home, he came home to a wife who was bringing little or nothing to the table. He often pitched in to make dinner, do laundry, pick up the house or play with the kids. He also payed bills, went grocery shopping or ran errands. On Saturday morning he would drag himself out of bed in the wee morning hours to volunteer at the food co-op we participate it, whether I was able to go or not. When all of the things he had to do where done, he did the things he didn't have to do. He brought me my iron pills. He washed my hair. He let my cry on his shoulder. I have been so blessed to have such a wonderful sweet man in my life who loves me so well. I it is my goal to only let the most kind words cross my lips in regard to my husband and to only foster positive conversations about him and other men.

A simple touch

I had one of the most difficult days, I had ever had last week. I was already feeling yucky from my surgery, but I was also feeling sad and lonely. Hubby and i had had an argument before he left for work. My kids were kind of running wild because we had taken a few days off of school to allow for my recovery. (We'll make those up during the summer.) Right in the midst of all of that chaos my cute son managed to knock out his already loose tooth out. This would have been fine but it cut the gum all of the way to the top. My poor sad boy was bleeding and scared. I was feeling overwhelmed and frustrated, since I was home with no car and really wasn't supposed to be driving anyway. (I called the doctor and the dentist, who both agreed that I should just watch it for the time being. It does appear to be healing well.) To top everything off, the people who had offered to bring my family dinner that night were a no show. By the time we managed to get dinner cooking for our family, I was a sobbing mess.

Then something miraculous happened. At least for me it felt pretty miraculous. Hubby walked over, sat next to me on the couch and held my hand. It felt like all of the stress and hurt and frustration on the day just poured right out of my body. I felt strengthened, uplifted and soothed by his simple touch. It made all of the difference for me. Have you had this experience? Has a simple touch from someone who loves you changed the course of a day for you? A hug, or a held hand or a hand on the small of your back, letting you know that someone is there for you?

Recovery!

I finally had my surgery on the 26th of October. At this point...10 days later, I think I may actually survive. I am so excited to get a little better each day and finally feel like a wife and mom that my kids can be proud of. There have been a few interesting experiences along the way.

First of all, I am so incredibly thankful to my sweet family, that has cared for me so well. My oldest daughter stayed home from school the day after the surgery to care for me, and then they next day my oldest son stayed home. I know that was a sacrifice for them. My cute husband has been working hard to take care of us. He told me today that he missed his "wing man." When I asked him what he meant he said "I am just so used to having you right beside me. Nothing is much fun without you."

I have also been thankful to the members of the ward that have helped our family along the way. Some have helped with laundry and some with meals. More than anything, I am thankful to the two Elder's who came and gave me a blessing on that first Sunday when I was honestly the sickest I have ever been in my entire life. I still feel the comfort of that blessing today.

Could it be? and Service

We have a new surgery date! Yay! Although I am still skeptical of it actually happening, it is on the books and scheduled. I am so looking forward to the process of recovery both from the health issues and from the surgery.

I have been thinking quite a bit about service. I read this blog post http://middle-agedmormonman.blogspot.com/2011/10/long-toed-saints-revisited.html and then this one http://middle-agedmormonman.blogspot.com/2011/10/long-toed-saints-revisited.html where the author of this awesome blog talks about service and what we need to do to be open to receiving and giving service.

I wanted to share you a man who is one of the most loving men I have ever met. His name is Scott. Scott was my parents home teacher when I was a small child. Scott is NOT the home teacher who dutifully showed at our home once a month with his suit and a carefully prepared lesson in hand. Scott is the kind of person who LOVED his brothers and sisters in the Gospel. When Scott first came to our home I was the only active member in our family. My father smoked cigarettes. He didn't go to church and my mother chose to stay home with him rather than argue with him. They were incredibly supportive of me though and drove me 1/2 hour each way every Sunday so that I could attend church meetings. Eventually my brother and sister started coming. Somewhere along the way, Scott discovered that if one of us had a part of some sort in Sacrament, my parents would attend to support us. Scott was also in the Bishopric. Suddenly about once a month myself or one of my siblings was the youth speaker or saying a prayer or singing a song. From there Scott gave the gentlest invitations to my father to come next week. He did this for years. (Not months, not days, YEARS.) He never pressured my dad. He would always visit, and talk to my dad about trucks or cars or work or hunting. He never hesitated that my father smelled of cigarettes. He was just a friend. After a long while my dad would come to Sacrament, but leave right after. Pretty soon Scott would grab my dad and say "Hey Brother M, I could use your help out at my truck." after Sacrament. My dad would dutifully follow Scott out to the truck, where Scott would ask my dad if he wanted to walk around the block. They would walk around the block while my dad smoked a cigarette and then go back to Sunday School and Priesthood. Once again, this lasted for years. In fact so long that we moved to a new ward. I grew up and got married. I went through the Temple. Six months after I was sealed to my hubby in the Manti Temple my parents were sealed and I was sealed to them. Scott had cheerfully served our family for more than a decade, without judgement and with patient love.

It would make sense if the story ended there, right? A couple of years later Hubby and I moved back into that ward. Scott was assigned to be our home teacher. Scott loved us with the same love that he loved my parents. One day Scott called me. He was concerned about my little brother. He had seen him down town and something didn't feel right. Little did he know that my brother had disappeared the day before. He was missing and I desperately needed the comfort of my home teacher at that time. Thankfully my brother returned home safely. Another time Hubby and I and our small children all went out on to the desert to join my family for a camping trip. We went over a cattle guard and both of our front tires blew at the same time. Hubby put our spare on one side and we carefully inched to the top of the hill. We tried calling my parents, my brother, nothing. For hours and hours we sat out in the desert. Finally a white truck drove by, turned around and came back. It was Scott. He just had a *feeling* he should drive out into the desert. He took our flat tire to town, paid for it to be repaired and returned the tire to us. I paid him the next Monday. Scott was so in tune with what we needed that he was able to be an instrument in our Father in Heaven's hands and provide for our needs. Several months ago I got a call from Scott. He had been feeling like he should call me. (Despite the fact we had moved from the ward a year before." I told him we were happy and doing well. He asked about my parents. Oh well, actually my mom is quite ill. Scott was able to visit and help my dad give my mom a blessing.

I never felt judged by Scott. I never felt that his efforts were insincere. He became the truest of friends to our family. I think that if more of us could be like Scott it wouldn't be so very hard to open our hearts and our homes to those who wish to serve us.

Anemia

This morning I decided to bake apples for my kiddos for lunch. It took me an hour to core the apples and stuff them. Now my arms are achy and sore. My legs feel like rubber and I feel like I could fall to sleep at a moments notice. It's 10:46 AM.

I am remembering years ago when I was first pregnant with my oldest daughter. The nurse at the doctors office did a simple blood test and explained it was for anemia. The test was normal and I forgot about it until the next time they tested when I was pregnant with my second child. My first brush with anemia happened when I lost my baby Nathaniel to stillbirth. I nearly bled to death during his delivery and suffered from anemia in the weeks following, Looking back I cannot separate the many symptoms I was feeling and decide which were from grief and which were from anemia. I do remember the headaches. I remember laying my head on the table at work, in so much pain that it hurt when someone walked by.

My next experience with anemia was after my first c-section several years later. Again, I have a hard time separating the symptoms of anemia and the postpartum depression I had. I was anemic after my next two c-sections. None, and I mean NONE of those experiences come close to the anemia I have experienced over the last year. The closest I can get to describing it is how you feel after a long hard hike, or run. Your muscles feel fatigued and every nerve seems to be jumping. Only I feel like that every minute of the day. Walking across my house or putting a load of laundry in make me gasp for breath. A long walk across a parking lot has me shaking and dizzy before I get to the store. My heart feels like it will pound out of my chest and my head feels like a river is rushing through it. Then there is the constant nausea that never seems to go away. The iron supplements make it worse. At the absolute worst I can not even move my arms. I need help to shower or use the bathroom. Just before the last transfusion, I could not wake myself up enough to help my three year old. (Thankfully there were other people in the house that could do it. )

My point I guess is that so few people really know what is going on with me. I mean, they know anemia. They just assume that I am a little tired and worn down. I don't ask for help because I worry that people will think I am expecting too much. Sometimes I feel invisible. Not because I want people to help me, but because I want to be helping. I want to be useful. I don't want pity. I want purpose. I wonder how many people are suffering with chronic conditions who feel very much the same way. I am hopeful that once this surgery finally happens, I can get back to being a productive member of society. My heart aches for those who have little hope of recovery.

A Happy Home

My world was falling down around me. Everything I thought I knew seemed to be slipping away. My bishop had visited with hubby, and now he was visiting with me. I don't think I heard most of what the bishop had said, but I heard this.

"What are you doing to make sure your husband comes home each day to a happy home?" the bishop asked. My mouth opened and closed without making a sound. I went back and forth between shock and anger. I hadn't done anything wrong. Hubby had ruined everything. It was all his fault. Why should I worry about making a happy home for him, when he had so badly hurt me?

I think it took me a full two days to calm down and really think about what my bishop was asking. I am a wife. I am a mother. My primary obligation is to my husband and children and making a home for them. The fact that I had been hurt by the choices that my husband was currently making did not diminish my responsibility to my family. In fact it was even more important now. When I finally stopped sulking, I noticed a difference in my family right away. Little things made all of the difference. I tried to make little efforts, (I know this sounds pathetic, but in my defense I was 8 months pregnant at the time.) Hubby liked it when he came home and our bed was made, dinner was at least in process and the kids happy. I tried not to unload on him the million and one things that I was frustrated with as soon as he walked in the door. I tried (and still try) to meet him with a smile, ask how his day was.

Now, a few years later we do things a little differently. Hubby calls me from the van on the way home. Don't worry, he puts the phone on speaker and puts it in his front pocket. I have 25-35 minutes to vent away. If the kids are driving me crazy, if something new broke (happens way too often at our house), if we got an unexpected bill in the mail, it all comes out in that phone call. In turn he complains about every crazy driver, every red light and every pot hole that annoys him. By the time he pulls in the driveway, we both feel better and can enjoy our evenings. With my current health issues in play, even getting the bed made or dinner on the table is hard. (Once again, in my defense, I do home school 4 children for 5 hours a day.) Hubby has been great to overlook my shortcomings and acknowledge my efforts. I think the biggest part of having a happy home really has been my own attitude. I am grateful to my bishop for asking me to re-evaluate what I was doing. It may not been easy advice to hear, but it made a huge difference for our home.

Do or Do Not

When my two oldest children were small I worked for a school that served mentally disabled children and adults. One day when I was feeling particularly frustrated at some task, I said "I am trying to...." An older member of the staff stopped me right there. He instructed me to "try to pick up the salt shaker on the table." Obediently I reached over and picked up the salt shaker. He took it out of my hand and sat it back on the table. "You picked up the salt shaker. I only asked you the *try* to pick up the salt shaker." I must have looked horribly perplexed, as I reached for the salt shaker a second time. He laughed a bit and said "Either do or do not. There is no try."

I have heard this sentiment a few times since then, and it has always struck a cord with me. How often do we choose to stay in "try" mode and do not commit one way or another. I think this is particularly relevant to our marriages. We need to be completely in our marriage. We can not have one foot in and one foot ready to run. For example, I sometimes hear people say that they are going to work on their marriage for six months, or a year....and then if they still are not happy then they will file for divorce. Another thing I hear is "I'll stay until I finish school" or "I'll stay until all of my kids are in school full time." There should not be an easy out button. Of course there has to be a safety zone for every person. We should never expect someone to stay in a dangerous situation. I am *not* addressing cases of abuse.

For those of us who are working on our marriage, I have found the following things helpful.

1) Be committed for the long run. Problems may not be able to be resolved in six months or a year.

2) Be compassionate, even if you feel you have been disappointed and betrayed.

3) Seek professional help as needed. Our first line of defense was our Bishop. We consulted with his regularly through the first part of our marriage. We also visited a marriage counselor.

4)Forgive and seek forgiveness, even for the little things.

5) Do all you can do to have a happy home.

6) Take care of your own health and encourage your spouse to do the same.

7) Take care of your spiritual health. Read your scriptures, say personal prayers, go to church, visit the temple.

8)Seek a pro-marriage support system. This can be difficult because the people you normally lean on may no longer be a option.

9)Look at your priorities and simplify as needed. It may mean giving up some things for a time.

10)Remember why you fell in love in the first place. Look for new ways to love your spouse.

Long Suffering

I hate that phrase. It just sounds horrible. Someone recently used that phrase to describe me. They meant it as a compliment....but really, when I hear it, it reminds me of a festering splinter. Not pleasant....at all. I actually looked up the definition of this odd phrase. Apparently, it means "patiently enduring." I guess that's ok. After all, we have been asked to "endure to the end." Another well meaning person once said "I know no one else who is as good at settling as you are." Ya, that wasn't my favorite compliment either.

I think both of these wonderful people were kind of missing the boat all together. I married the man I love. We were married for several years before we hit a major road block. It took some time, and was very painful for both of us. We took the opportunity to forgive each other and build and rebuild our relationship. Since then we have once again enjoyed a happy healthy relationship. OK, that's the condensed version, but what people forget the focus on is the last part. We *are* happy! We got to this point, because we worked at it. We did not give up. Most of all, the atonement of our Savior, which healed our wounds and repaired our hearts. When I look at my husband, I don't see the man who hurt me. In truth I don't think that man even exists any more. When I look at him, I see a man who loves me and I love him.

So many times, I think that people get stuck. They can't or wont let go of past hurts and remember that our Savior suffered for all of our sins and our pain. Everyone! He has already done the work and we don't have to carry that around with us. We don't have to feel all of that pain. So many more people could be happier. Maybe then we wouldn't consider it "long suffering" and just consider it love.

Mom and Dad

This is my mom and dad. Of course getting a picture of my dad when he isn't in the process of sticking his tongue out at me is near impossible. Really! The only pictures I have of him that are not of him making a silly face are of the back of his head. I LOVE MY DAD! Mom too! They have been married for 37 years. They have 5 kids and 11 grandchildren (and one on the way.) They taught me that love is forever. They taught me that marriage is worth working on for a life time. They taught me that even when you are so mad at someone you think you might smack them upside the head, the you stop loving them. I am so thankful for my awesome parents. I am thankful for their great example to me.

"Men are that they might have joy"

2 Nephi 2:25 "Adam fell that men might be and men are that they might have joy."

Most everyone who takes LDS seminary recognizes this as a mastery scripture. Despite this scripture being on of the shortest that I memorized in Seminary, it is the scripture that I have spent the most time pondering. I believe that the words we read in the scriptures were not chosen lightly, just as the parables state something with simplicity, that has a much greater meaning. Would we feel any different if the scripture read "....men are that they might be happy"?

For me there is a distinct difference between "happy" and "Joy." While I truly believe that our Father in Heaven desires happiness for us, it was "Joy" that is the reason why we are here. Joy brings on a deeper meaning, more robust and rich than simply being happy. I think joy can grow and thrive even surrounded by sorrow. My first taste of joy and sorrow was thirteen years ago when my son Nathaniel was stillborn. I was young (23) and had experienced very little loss at that point of my life. Now my heart was broken and my world was turned upside down. Sorrow permeated ever part of my body. Though pain swirled around me, a stronger thread held fast. I felt joy and peace in my knowledge of the gospel. I knew my family had been sealed for all time and eternity in the temple. I knew of the plan of salvation and the atonement. I knew that my Father in Heaven was a kind and loving Father who loved me. I knew that His house was a house of order, and that there was a reason, even unknown unto me, that my son was still born.

So I wonder if at times we choose to search for happiness which can be fleeting and volatile instead of waiting and working for joy. Do we look for others, our husbands, wives, children, friends, to bring us happiness? Or do we serve those we love, which brings us joy? Joy I think often walks hand in hand with sacrifice. If we are unable or unwilling to sacrifice, joy is much harder to obtain. So many marriages I think get in trouble when one or both people are expecting the other to "make them happy." We get caught up in what they can't offer us. How often do we hear the complaint that men leave their socks on the floor? Seriously, this is a major source of contention for so many couples. A power struggle. But really, it takes 10 seconds for us to pick up those socks and toss them in a hamper ourselves. The result is amazing! First we are no longer annoyed by the socks on the floor. Second, we have served someone that we love. Of course it only works if we do so with a joyful heart and not a resentful angry heart. Serving my husband and my children brings me joy. Forgiving and not taking offence brings me joy. Loving these beautiful people I have been blessed to have as my family brings me joy. There are times when it is painful and my heart hurts, but I would never give up the joy I feel in exchange for a pain free, happy life.

Change of Plans and Charity

The surgery that I was expecting to have on Thursday was canceled Wednesday afternoon and rescheduled two weeks later. I was so sad, and frustrated. I cried. However looking back, maybe there were some good things that came out of it. I have continued to recover from the nasty cold and I am not coughing nearly as much now. Maybe two weeks from now the cough will be completely gone and it will make recovery easier for me. Also, Saturday night was the Relief Society Broadcast. I hadn't planned on going because I was supposed to have surgery just a few days before. My cute friend called me as it was starting and asked if I would be willing to go with her. I hurried and got dressed and we were only about 15 minutes late. I wasn't sure how long I would be able to last but really wanted to stick it out for my friend's benefit. I'm glad I did.

It seems like President Uchtdorf's talk touched every woman who watched it and I was no exception. However, I want to talk about another talk that was given that night. It was by Sister Silvia H. Allred. Both Talks can be found here http://http://lds.org/pages/general-rs-meeting-2011?lang=eng Sister Allred spoke of charity and how it is not a single action but a state of being. During her closing remarks she talked about how we should seek to have charity for all, *even our family.* We teach that "Charity is the pure love of Christ" and that "Charity never faileth" but I wonder how often we forget to have charity for those we are closest to, to our children and even or maybe especially toward our spouse.

After Hubby and I had decided to stay together, life changed quickly for us. I had a baby (our sixth) and Hubby lost his job. He found a new job but it was an hour and a half away and meant a move for our little family. I had a hard time adjusting to the move, moving from a small town and community that I had always lived in to a big city (to me- if you knew how "big" it is in comparison to other "cities" you would laugh and laugh at me). Not to mention that I was still carrying around some pretty wounded feelings. I was hurt and resentful and not horribly sure if I wanted to stick it out. Everyday I thought about packing up my children and going "home."

I finally got down on my knees, and with all of the bitterness and pain of the past three years bubbling to the surface, I begged my Father In Heaven to please, please give me confirmation that I had done enough, that I could leave and flee back to what I knew. At some point, I dried my tears and left to collect my chilren from school. We had not yet found a home of our own and were staying at the time with Hubby's aunt. As I walked into her living room, I saw a picture of the Savior. I heard the words "Remember, He is my child too. I love him." It was all I could do to stay composed and not allow tears to stream down my face. (I didn't want to frighten my children.)

That night I told Hubby that I needed to talk to him and asked if we could go for a walk once our children were asleep. I think for one horrible long moment Hubby thought that it really was the end, and I was leaving. That night as we walked I apologized to my husband, for harboring so much resentment, and anger. I apologized for not letting go and forgiving him and for not moving on. I told him I loved him and that I knew the Savior loved him. I promised to try to do better and to be less judgemental.

Something suprising happened. Hubby waited until I was finished. Then he started talking about the choices he had made that got us to that point. A lot of it I already knew. Some of it, I didn't. Some I had known about be had never seen from his perspective. Some was incredibly painful to hear, but at the same time was cleansing. I felt like for the first time in a very long time Hubby was completely honest with me and with himself. Even more amazing, I was able to see my hubby as a Child of God and not just as someone who had hurt me. I saw his incredible potential and spirit. Once I was able to see that, I was able to remember why I had fallen in love with him and what I had grown to love about him. I remember thinking that I just wanted to hold that feeling forever and ever.

Of course its hard to sustain those feelings when life is going on around you. Work and kids and bills and life all get in the way. More than once I have yearned for that incredible night and the peace I felt. Which brings me back to Sister Allred's talk about making charity a state of being, a constant life style of serving one another. I think if we could do that daily, we wouldn't need these huge expiriences to smack us over the head and remind us not only of who we are, but who the people around us are as well. It is certainly something I want to re-focas on.

Sick

I have had a nasty grouchy cold and a cough. Then last night a mosquito bit me on the eye lid and my eye swelled. I was feeling about as miserable as I ever want to be when Hubby and I started to get ready for bed. It was then that Hubby noticed that our (one) set of car keys was missing. So at 11 PM we started to search. At midnight we woke up the big kids to help. My dumb eye was nearly swollen shut and Hubby was UPSET! Of course he is also the one to depend on the (one) set of keys to our (one) van to get him to work. Finally around 1 AM I sent him to bed. The two oldest and I said a quick prayer and crawled into bed ourselves. We set the alarm for 5 AM to start looking again. I tossed and turned and dreamed of those dumb keys all night. When the alarm went off I crawled out of bed,looking like some horrible mutant to search for the keys again. We searched for another hour when I suggested to DH that he call a co-worker to see if he could get a ride to work. I walked back to my bedroom, opened the jewelry box and there were the keys. YAY! Hubby got to work on time. Now I am sitting here looking like a mutant zombie waiting for Hubby to come home from his second job so that we can finally get some sleep. I am sure Hubby is more miserable than I am. Poor guy. The post I was working on pre-cold is still in draft form. Hopefully I finish it before the surgery on Thursday.

Found

Over the weekend we did a major cleaning of bedrooms. In the process of mucking out rooms, I uncovered my mp3 player that has been missing for at least a year. I have spent some time today listening to the songs I had uploaded a few years ago. My music choices very much reflected how I was feeling at the time. It was a bit of a dark time for me. Hubby and I had decided to stay together, but I was still working through some painful feelings and trying to forgive. Interspersed with songs of broken heart were songs of hope and determination. I was good for me to hear those songs and remember how very far we have come. This song have me a lot of hope at a very painful time. It was how I viewed Hubby, someone on the verge of something incredible. I just needed to hold on long enough....

+

One of the Greats.

I love hearing about wonderful stories of love, especially when they come from my own family. This is one of my favorite stories. It is about Marie. Marie was my great grandmother. She grew up in France. She was in love with her childhood sweetheart. They were engaged to be married. Marie's sister wasn't quite so happy. She decided to become a mail order bride and come to the United States. Unfortunately, something happened. Just days before my grandmother was to marry her sweetheart, her sweetheart and her sister ran away and eloped. That must have been so devastating. She had been betrayed by the man she loved and by the sister she loved. Not to mention that her father was distraught. Her sister had a contract! She was supposed to marry an American man. He was devastated that his daughter had chosen to disregard the commitment she had made. My Grandma did the only thing she could do. She packed her bags, and took her sister's place on the boat to America. She was on her way to marry a man who she had never seen, never spoken to and never even exchanged a letter with. She would be alone, without a single relative or friend. It must have taken a great deal of bravery to set out on such a journey, knowing that she would most likely never see her family in this life again.

My poor great grandfather must have been so surprised! He had exchanged letters over the months with one woman, only to have her sister arrive instead. He must have taken the whole thing in stride. They were married just days after her arrival. At the turn of the century much of the United states was becoming industrialized, but Marie arrived to a land that was rugged at best. She and my grandfather settled down on his little farm. They grew sugar beets. Over the years my grandparents fell in love little by little. They worked beside each other, for each other. When they needed someone, they leaned on each other. They had 5 children, and buried two of them. My grandfather was their only son. My grandfather died years before I was born, when my dad was a young boy.

I remember visiting my grandma. She was beautiful with her silvery hair, and dainty little hands. We would sit on the floor in front of my mom and listen to her tell stories. She always served us cream sodas in tiny glasses. There were three of us and she split one can of soda between us. She also served us yummy butter cookies on a fancy china plate. She would talk about how much she loved her husband, looking over at their wedding photo on the wall with such tenderness.

Now she is gone, and all I have left of her is my memories and the incredible legacy of love she and my grandfather left. My grandma could have been bitter about what happened to her. It wasn't fair. She could have wrapped a cloak of anger around herself and shut out the world. Instead she opened heart up to the idea that love can grow out of even the most painful of experiences. She embraced it. She left all of the hurt and anger behind in France. What she didn't leave behind was her love for her family. I remember that at times while we were visiting, the phone would ring. Her face would light up and she would say "It's my family!" Sometimes it was her father, or mother, or even her sister. We would hear the beautiful sound of Grandma, conversing in french to the family she loved.




I

Keep going?

Over the course of the last few weeks, I have found a few blogs that basically have the same idea as I had for this blog. I have been wondering if I should even keep this blog. Obviously, the idea is not as unique as I had previously thought. These other blogs were better organized and well written. I wonder if there is really a need for this blog. I started to write it, after a conversation with a group of friends. One friend expressed frustration with an issue with her marriage. Its is a long term problem, and I don't really see resolution in the near future. However, I was surprised and very disturbed about the turn that the conversation took. Right away nearly every woman was suggesting divorce. "He doesn't deserve you!" "He has no right to treat you like that! When are you going to leave him?" "You would be better off without him. Come and stay with me!" Not one single time was there a comment encouraging her to stay in her marriage. When I tried to comment, I was immediately shut down. So then I read the blogs of people who, it seems, have perfect wonderful marriages. I started to wonder if anyone out there felt/feels like I did/do. I wonder if there is a woman out there who loves her husband very much, but the rug has just been pulled out from under her and everything that she thought she knew seems to be gone. Maybe all of her friends and family are jumping on the divorce band wagon, but as much as she hurts, as much as her heart is broken, she very much wants to save her marriage. Maybe there is a woman out there reading all of the "I'm happy, my marriage is perfect" blogs and posts on face book and is feeling sad and discouraged and thinking "My marriage stinks!" And it does. I want so badly for those women to know that even if their marriage stinks today, maybe with a little (or A LOT) of time and attention and work, things can get better. It's not as easy as just doing X, Y, Z and suddenly the love of your life is going to fall into line and you live happily ever after. It took me five months of holding on, crying myself to sleep every night, just to get a glimmer of hope that my marriage could survive. It took us another 2 and a half years to get to a place where I was fairly certain I would be married at the end of the year. There are still days when I wonder how we are ever going to make it work out. There are still nights when I cry myself to sleep.

BUT if there is someone out there, I want to help them. I want to be a soft place to land for them. I also want to know that I did more to support marriage-my own marriage and others- then I ever did to tear a family apart. I would not want to face my Father in Heaven at the end of my life and not be able to say I did all I could to keep my family together. I certainly would not want to have to admit that I was an instrument in tearing another family apart. So I guess for now I will keep trying....

Transfused (Part 3)

Hubby had to be to work at his second job and I had to figure out how to get myself to the hospital in the next town. I called several people before I was able to get in contact with a member of my ward. I got there 15 minutes before closing and was able to get my blood drawn. The doctor had called and left a message on the answering machine before I could even get home. I needed a transfusion the next morning. I was supposed to call for further instruction the next day, only it was almost 10 AM before I was alert enough to make the phone call. Hubby had decided to take half a day off work in order to help me out. I was hoping to push the transfusion back until he could get home. The nurse called back and said that wasn't a problem but I needed to get to the hospital right away to have my blood drawn so it could be typed and matched. I hurried and dressed and Hubby's aunt drove me to the hospital for my blood test. The blood test went quickly, but when I stood up it felt like the whole world tipped on its access. The phlebotomist quickly grabbed a wheelchair and insisted that I stay in it until I got to the car.

I had to come back to the hospital at 2:30 for the transfusion. All of the running around was getting to me, and I was feeling pretty sick. When I got there, there office was empty. After waiting several minutes for someone to come, I wandered down the haul to where the nurses desk was. The nurse asked me what I was looking for and I explained that I was there for a transfusion. She looked horrified that I was walking around. She made me set down, and went looking for the office person. The office person was rude, bored, annoying and annoyed. She was minimally helpful but thankfully my exposure to her was pretty short. The sweet helpful nurse was back and took me to my room. I was incredibly thankful to have some where to lay down. Hubby was happy as a clam to get settled with the laptop and I went to sleep. Sometime later a nurse came in to get things started. They were super careful checking information, double checking and finally having me check. When the nurse looked at my chart and saw my numbers he said "wow, you don't have enough in you to sustain life. How are you walking around?" I kept thinking..."I'm a mom. What else was I supposed do?"

The IV itself wasn't bad. The blood was cold, and so was I. I wrapped up in a blanket. The IV site burned a little as the blood went in. Each unit of blood took two hours and I was receiving 2 units, so I was going to be there for 4 hours. The TV was on the hospitals preset, playing soft music and showing pictures of nature. I flipped through all of the channels but the noise was annoying, so I put it back on the preset. I was tired and drifted in and out of sleep. The blood pressure cuff hurt when it went off. It went off every 15 minutes and made my arm hurt, which woke me up. I kept trying to push it further down my arm but it didn't work. Around 4:30 they brought Hubby and I some dinner. I actually like most Hospital food and this was no exception. I think I ate more of it than my hubby. It made me feel a bit better. It was right after dinner that I discovered that I had bled all over myself, my pants and the sheet....and I got to tell my male nurse about it. Oh yippy skippy! There was nothing I could do about my pants other than pull my t-shirt down over my butt. The nurse gave me a new pad to use. I was not surprised to find my blood pressure climbed up to an eye raising level. As far as the actual transfusion went, everything went well. I was finally able to leave just before 8 PM.

I feel ok. Not great. I had hoped for great, but I feel better. The headache is mostly gone. I don't feel like my head is going to fall off every time I stand up. I am still super tired, and I get dizzy as soon as I walk too far. The feeling of nausea has been hanging around. I have a hive on my cheek and I am wondering I should call the doctor. I am thankful for feeling a bit better. I hope that my iron levels are still good in three weeks for the surgery. I just want to feel better and be the wife and mommy I should be.

Transfused (Part 2)

With the embolization scheduled I was pretty happy to wait out my symptoms for a while. Of course I am a wee bit scared about it and I know that there are risks for every procedure, but overall I feel good about it. Of course, it can't ever be that easy, right? Last week I started feeling pretty cruddy. I recognized the symptoms from before. I did NOT want to get stuck back in bed. School is starting and my little kids need me. My house is quickly falling to pieces. By Sunday I was pretty sick. My head was throbbing, my heart pounding. On Monday morning my three year old came in an needed something....only I could not wake up enough to help him. When I finally could pull myself out of bed, I called the doctor. The nurse told me I could come in at any point to have my iron levels checked. I sent a quick text to hubby and asked him to see if he could come home early. Of course.....he worked late! He hurried home and took me up to the doctors. They used a finger prick test to test my hemoglobin. My great luck for the day held out and the first test didn't work. She repeated the test. This one was low. Very low. A second nurse looked at the result and said "re-test it! If she is really that low we need to send her right to the hospital for a transfusion." The third test was even lower. The nurse went to talk to the doctor, who desided that I needed a blood test to ensure accurate results. The cute nurse was so nice, but every time they poked me nothin was coming out! They sent me to the hospital with a huge glass of water. Hubby needed to get to work at his second job, so I needed to find a ride to the hospital.

So I had the whole long [post typed out and when I went to publish....this was all that was left. So I guess we get a part three.

Transfused.

This post has relatively nothing to do with marriage other than this has been the all consuming topic in our lives the last several days, weeks, months.

About a year ago I started having issues with my period. My period was lasting 3-5 weeks long. I will spare you all of the other details of what was happening. Lets just say that it was a big deal. I was seriously annoyed. A few months later, I started feeling very tired. I could have taken a 3-4 hour nap every day. My arms and legs constantly felt sore, like I had just completed a marathon. I was feeling pretty bad about myself. It was the middle of the winter. I wasn't exercising. Of course, it was Christmas time and junk food was everywhere. I felt horrible about myself. I blamed myself for how I was feeling. I never equated it with the fact that I was bleeding more often than not.

In February we were planning a trip to Disney Land with our six kids. We had never taken a vacation before, and our kids were thrilled. I made our reservations at a hotel about a half mile away from Disney Land. I figured we could walk there and opted not to get the shuttle pass. I mean....Anyone can walk a 1/2 mile, right? Of course the first morning at Disney Land everyone was full of energy and eager to get there. Hubby kept telling me to hurry. I thought I was. But I looked around and everyone and I do mean EVERYONE was passing me. I was in tears by the time we got to the front gates of Disney Land. I told myself how horrible I was for being so out of shape, that I had a hard time making a short walk to Disney Land. I'm not quite sure how I made it through Disneyland other than sheer will and the opportunity to stand (sit) in a lot of lines. The last day there Hubby wanted to ride on ride with me. We got a switch pass and arranged for our Older kids to take all but our baby on the ride and then they would stay with the little kids while we went on the ride. The ride was Space Mountain. It was fun to spend a little alone time with Hubby. As I got off the ride my head was spinning. I was so dizzy and sick to my stomach. The feeling didn't go away. I remember laying in bed that night and thinking "I still feel like I am on that ride." The next day we were heading home. Of course, we also discovered that we had lost our car keys at some point. Hubby and our oldest son headed back to Disney Land to look for the keys, while I started packing up with the rest of the kids. I was still feeling awful. I was dizzy, sick to my stomach, my head was pounding and so was my heart. I felt so weak that I could not lift more than our simple over night bag. Thankfully Hubby and son were able to quickly find our key and get back. Once we were on the road I told Hubby I needed some sleep. I slept all that day and most of the next. I just couldn't wake up very long or stay awake once I did wake up. The following night Hubby took me to the ER because I was sure I was having a stroke. They checked my blood pressure and it was elevated but not dangerous and I let them triage me out.

Two days later I had an appointment with an OB/GYN to deal with the issues I had been having with my period. The doctor walked in and told me that he knew what the problem was. He said "Your lips are the same color as your skin. You are horribly anemic. A quick blood test confirmed that he was right. My hematocrit was 16 and my hemoglobin was 6. I dont know what "normal" is but eventually this was extremely low. Did I mention that this wasn't a particularly great doctor? He sent me home with an Rx for iron. I spent the next 2 months in bed, trying to build my iron levels to a functional level. Oh...he did give me an Rx for a hormone that was supposed to regulate my hormones as well.

I did start feeling better in May, but I never felt 100% or even 80%. In July I could feel my stamina fading again. My period lasted 5 weeks. My best friend was so concerned she researched doctors in this area, and called and made an appointment for me with the best one she could find. My appointment was for the first of part of August. Best friend did her job well. This doctor was much more proactive. She ordered an Ultrasound and some blood test. The blood test revealed that I was in fact anemic again, but no so anemic that it was an emergency. (Evidently my first numbers at the other doctors office should have been treated as an emergency!) But the ultrasound revealed numerous fibroids, a super thick uterine lining, and oddly a huge cyst on on of my ovaries. I told her I wanted to keep my uterus if possible. (which is a whole different post.)

I was referred to a radiologist for a procedure called a Uterine Fibroid Embolization. We scheduled surgery. Its set for Sept 22. (and I think I will continue the story in a new post.)

My oldest daughter

Who is super sweet and incredibly awesome, re-designed my blog for me. She is by far more creative than I am.

Date Night!!!

OK, I admit it. This is hard for us. It sounds like such a simple and enjoyable way to keep your marriage fresh, but somehow, someway it always slips to the back burner. This was one of those "Big three" pieces of advice that our bishop gave us. I remember very clearly the first date after that advice. We went out to dinner at a small restaurant that specialized in dutch oven cooking. There was no ordering, just a cheerful waitress that brought the "Special of the day" out. I remember staring at my food. I had no appetite. Hubby was messing around with his cell phone. Neither one of us were talking. 45 minutes into our date I noticed my feet were swelling at an alarming rate. (I was 8 months pregnant) Hubby dropped me off at the hospital and went home to relieve the sitter. My mom brought me home the next morning after my blood pressure had stabilized. It was by far the most miserable date I had ever experienced.

We still have not been able to establish the habit of a weekly date. Usually we follow this pattern... We date weekly for a couple months. We either have to tighten the budget so tight it cries or we start a "season" with one or more of our kids. (Baseball, basketball, Volleyball, or some other activity) or work gets crazy for Hubby. We slack off for a while. It could be a few weeks or a few months. Then we realize we are growling at each other more often than not and we work to get it back on track.

I will say this- It is SO much easier to "date" now that we have teenagers in the house. The only preparation we have to make are to tell them we are going out and leave the house. So much better, different than when we had to worry about tracking down a baby sitter. Our "dates" also look different now than what we first tried. Sometimes a date is sneaking out after the kids are asleep for an ice cream cone at McDonald's. Sometimes its a long walk or a walk around the temple grounds. Sometimes it is just sitting in a parked car and talking for hours. Rarely do we ever do "dinner and a movie." If we do, its usually for a special day, like a birthday or anniversary.

I was so excited a few weeks ago when I decided to buy tickets to a game for our local minor league baseball team for Hubby for his birthday. YAY! A Present for him and a date for me! We went this weekend. Now we have attended several games this season, but usually we sit on the berm with our six kids crawling all over us. This time, thanks to a great coupon deal I got, Hubby got to sit in the good seats, right behind home plate. He was happy and thrilled with his gift and I was happy and thrilled to be with him. Now we are trying to figure out what would be happening around my birthday in the fall that we could turn into a birthday present/date. I think that what really matters is that we remember that we matter. When we give just that little bit more attention to our marriage, we come out of it stronger and happier people. We are better able to deal with the one hundred and one things that we need to deal with. When we take the time to go on our little dates we actually remember that "Hey, I really like that guy and he really likes me."

Why we home school.

13 years ago I sent my sweet daughter to kindergarten for the first time. I didn't love the idea, but I did what I was supposed to do. Right? All parents, both good and bad, send their children off at the tender age of 5 to get an education. Of course "good parents" have already taught their children how to read, write, pretty much everything that one might teach in kindergarten. This means that anyone whose child has not been taught the entirety of the kindergarten curriculum prior to the first day of school falls in the "bad parent" category. I generally fell into the "bad parent" category. My cute girl did not know how to read and write and was not working on a cure for cancer in her spare time. I did get points for volunteering incessantly. I did it mostly because I missed my girl. I dragged my two wee kids along with me. We continued this pattern for a couple years until.....ROAD BLOCK! The second grade teacher mixed with my daughter as well as water and oil. She made my daughter wait until she had wet her pants to use the bathroom. She called her lazy in front of the class. It was the second time in my life I truly lost my temper. (The first was when a man told me that my still born son wasn't really a child because he never breathed.) That was when I realized that if I wasn't going to advocate for my child, no one else was going to either.

I moved my kiddos to a local charter school. We loved it. My children thrived. I still hung out at the school a ton but really I was OK. Then my sweet daughter #2 started kindergarten. Sigh....It just was not easy for her. She learns in a very different way. In the midst of her kindergarten year I was on bed rest, the *issue* with our marriage started and she pretty much fell through the cracks. For the next couple years things were pretty unsettled for us. We finally moved an hour and a half away from our "home town." Sweet daughter #1 and Awesome Son #1 were both doing well and thriving in their new environment. Sweet daughter #2 continued to struggle. We moved from a charter school to a regular school. We did an EIP. Still she continued to have issues. AT this point she was leaving our house at 7:30 AM and returning at 5:30 PM. She was gone longer than my husband was during the day.

While Sweet Daughter #2 was struggling, we were having issues with Awesome son #2. He was in Kindergarten. He is a *smart* kid, but he wiggled too much. He talked too much. It didn't matter that he was the top of his class, he was considered emotionally immature, therefore could not move into the top reading group. He cried everyday, begging me not to send him to school.

Now keep in mind that I was never a fan of sending my kiddos off to school anyway. We had tried public school, charter school and public school again. Private school wasn't an option financially. Well, home school it is. We have LOVED it! Our two oldest still attend public school and are doing well. They are both in high school.

Reasons I love home schooling....

I have control of what they learn, when they learn.

I know my children are in an environment where they are loved.

No bullies.

No worrying about whether or not I signed that calender, permission slip, or planner.

I know exactly what my kids know and what they need to work on.

They work on their own pace.

We work when and where we want to work. Late night? My little ones woke up at 8:30. My big kids at 5:30.

Sick kids? No worry. We can cuddle up and do reading on the bed.

Vacation? We can do that.

Socialization? We still attend church, participate in team sports and play with neighborhood friends.

It works for us.

Speak Kindly- The words you don't say.

It seems like daily I am asking my sweet children to speak kindly to each other. I always explain to them how hurtful and damaging the words we say can be. Sometimes though, I think that its our thoughts that can be the most damaging. We hear of mothers who leave their families for no apparent reason. I think much of it happens when we allow ourselves to get in a pattern of negative self talk. We can convince ourselves that we are not happy, that we can't possibly be happy with the person we once loved. It happens so slowly. We start out as newlyweds who can't imagine saying or thinking negative thinks. Then inevitably he will say or do something that annoys you or hurts you or just flat out makes you mad. We don't quite let go of it. We save a little of the negative for the next time and the next. Before we know it the negative outweighs the positive and we are convinced that we could never be happy in that marriage again. I have been through that. A few times actually....

I remember the first time Hubby and I had a serious argument. We had been married a few months at that point. I was pregnant with our first daughter. I don't remember what we fought about, but I do remember being MAD! I packed up a suitcase. I was leaving. I walked out the door and sat down on the front steps. "He is such a jerk" I said to myself. A few years later I walked out the door with two small children in my arms into a snow storm. All of the way down the street a mumbled under my breath. "He's a jerk. I can't believe I married him. I HATE HIM!" It could easily have been the end of our marriage, except I have a wonderful mother who upon my arrival on her front porch, packed me and my children up in her car and delivered us back to our front door.
She looked at me and looked at Hubby and said "Work it out!" and went back home.

It was several years later when I experienced this from the other side. It was the "big issue." It threatened our marriage in a very real way. I remember distinctly hubby saying "I'm not happy. I don't love you anymore. I haven't for a long time." I was devastated. It was the beginning of the three hardest years of my life. Somewhere along the the line, I begged Hubby to give me six months. It was hard work, for both of us to change the negative thought patterns. However, after almost six years, we are one of the happiest couples we know. Even more, I know I am a happier person when my thoughts are positive.

YAY!

Finally I have a new laptop cord and I can type without worrying about dumping the cord.

A long line of love....

I have already talked about my grandparents and some of their trials. What I didn't talk about was how very much they loved each other. I remember from a young age that whenever Grandpa left the house, he never did so without kissing Grandma. They held hands while sitting next to each other or walking through the store. Grandpa's health was always a concern. Grandma tenderly cared for him until the very end. Near the end of my grandpa's life I sat next to him and held his hand. I had begged and begged my Grandma to leave his side, to get a sandwich and maybe take a nap. She did leave for just a moment. She hadn't slept for days. She was so tired. She hadn't spent a night without Grandpa in her bed in many many years. She couldn't sleep without him there and his hospital bed was so far away. That night after we had all gone home, Grandpa got out of his hospital bed, walked across the house, crawled in bed with Grandma until she fell asleep. Then he returned to the hospital bed where he was much more comfortable and could breath easier. The next day, my Grandma whispered in his ear "Its OK, Sweetheart, you can go." With the hour my grandpa had passed away. To this day, when you ask my Grandma if she is married she will say yes. Grandpa died seven years ago. She will say "We were sealed for all time and eternity in the House of the Lord. I am every bit as much married as the day I said I do."

My Parents are also very much examples to me about how good a marriage can be. Growing up, I saw my parents hug and kiss and hold hands. It wasn't weird. It was simply our way of life. One day I walked in the house with a couple of friends. We were probably 10 or 11. I saw my parents wrestling around on the floor over a $1 bill. They were laughing so hard they could hardly breath. My friend looked at me and said "My parents don't even talk to each other. I could not imagine them playing like that."

My marriage is not text book perfect. We have had some serious problems that we needed to deal with. However....I would rather spend the afternoon with my sweet Hubby than anyone else. He makes me happy. He makes me laugh and smile like no one else does. We still hold hands and kiss each other goodbye. He calls me from work everyday at lunch. He sends me text messages throughout the day to tell me he loves me. I hope we pass that on to our children and we continue this long line of love.

Red roses

During a Sunday school class several years, a story was told about a man who brought red roses to his wife every week. He knew she loved them and they always made her smile. The moral of this story wasn't that men should bring their wives red roses every week. It was that we should do the little and big things we can to bring happiness and joy to those we love. Equally important is recognizing those sweet little gifts of love in whatever form they take.

For whatever reason my house has been overrun with mosquitoes this year. (It may have something to do with the 6 children who constantly run in and out of the house every minute of the day) They leave Hubby completely alone and bite *me*! Not only do they bite me but the leave huge angry red welts all over. Last night my cute man stayed up until midnight swatting every mosquito he could find, even though he had to be at work at 6 AM. That is a red rose gift he gave to me.

I have to take iron for anemia. I never remember to take it. Every night my sweet husband brings me a glass of water, my vitamins, and the oh-so-nasty iron pill. That is another red rose gift he gives me.

Over the course of the last 17 years, and six children, I never changed a diaper in the middle of the night. Hubby always got up, changed the baby and brought them to me to nurse. I think that one is worth a few red roses.

Hubby calls me every day on his way to work. (He puts the phone on speaker) He calls me again at lunch and on his way home. There is another red rose.

Hubby loves my hair long. I prefer it to be around shoulder length, but Hubby like it long. It is currently just above my waist. It is my red rose gift to him.

Because my guy loves his sports, I now know baseball, basketball, and football. These are my red roses to him.

What red roses do you and your sweetheart give to each other?

Spats, tiffs, arguments....

We all have them. OK, I have one cousin who claims that he and his wife have never ever had an argument. I personally think everyone does. They just don't always look the same. For example, my mom tends to be LOUD when she is angry. My dad is stone cold silent. He has a certain look that everyone just knows that Dad has reached his limit. Either way my parents got over things very quickly. I think I inherited that from them. "I'm mad now, but give me 15 minutes and we'll be good again. " Even when we had serious issues, I didn't stay mad for long. I was just incredibly sad. So when a friend recently said that she and her hubby had been fighting for days I was really surprised. Arguing takes energy and at this point of my life I am very careful where I expend energy. Another dear friend always says "Is this the hill your marriage is going to die on?" meaning "Is this so vitally important that you are willing to let your marriage end?" If not, what do you hope to achieve? So here are a few things that have worked for me and my hubby.

1) Taking a moment to figure out why I am feeling argumentative. Am I tired, hungry, stressed or is this really a vital issue. On the other side, if it is Hubby feeling argumentative, what might be the causes for him.

2) Asking myself what I hope to accomplish. Am I looking for something to change or (honestly) just choosing to lash out.

3) Choosing to control my own actions, and reactions. Several years ago Hubby and I came home from a weekend conference. He was telling me how much he enjoyed the weekend. He said "We didn't argue at all." I looked at him and thought of all of the times I had bit my tongue and said "I chose not to." He kind of laughed and said "Me too!

4) Choosing the right time and the right place and the right people. An awesome piece of advice from my mom came the day of our wedding. She said "If you are ever in a dangerous situation,
Call me. I'll be there in two minutes. Otherwise, keep your arguments between you, your husband and the Lord. I always want to think you married Prince Charming."

5) Say what you mean and mean what you say. Throwing insults and threats at each other accomplish nothing. Saying "I hate you" or "I want a divorce" hurt long after the argument is over. Hubby and I have decided to simply take the "D" word out of all discussions. We know we want to make our marriage work. We need to be committed to that, even when we are angry.

6) Always say "I love you!" You always hear "Never go to bed angry" but some things simply can not be resolved in a day. Fatigue is not your friend! Call for a cease fire. Tell each other you love each other, say your prayers, and get the rest you need. Morning can often bring a fresh outlook, and a greater desire for peace.

When Hubby and I first started having problems, we sought the counsel of our bishop, our religious leader. I must admit that the first advice surprised me. "Pray together, read the scriptures and go on a weekly date." The advice seemed so simple-too simple. I wondered if the bishop truly understood the level of distress our marriage was in. After a while I decided that if I wasn't even willing to do the easy things, how could I ever attempt the harder things. I am still surprised at how much difference this advice has made in our relationship.

While I prayed often and sincerely, one thing that was not happening was praying as a couple. This turned out to be a little (a lot) more difficult than I expected. How can you pray together, if you are barely speaking to each other? For us it was an amazing process. You just can not maintain the same level of anger and animosity for each other when you kneel down together. At first our prayers were pretty short and to the point. We just wanted to get it over with. That way we could tell the bishop that we had done what he had asked. Then we moved to asking for peace in our home and comfort for our children. We asked for guidance to do the right thing for our family. Then we prayed for each other. I think it is impossible to sincerely kneel down and pray for someone and still feel angry towards them. With the anger stripped away, the real issues can come to the surface. At least they can be identified.

I truly feel that this was a turning point for us. It did not make our marriage perfect. It didn't fix problems over night. I think what It did do was give us a chance. It helped us make a move toward love and resolution instead of anger and hate. This is not a simple fix. It is just one of the many steps a couple can take. We are still working on our marriage. We still have times when we fight and argue. When I notice that things have not been going horribly well in our relationship, I almost always see that we have not been doing this very simple task as well as we should be. And when we are praying together regularly as a couple, things seem to go much more smoothly . We have more peace in our relationship.

Advice from Grandma

My grandparents are amazing! What they have accomplished amazes and astounds me. Lets start with Grandma. Grandma's mom, well.....she wasn't all that great as a mom. I have no idea why she was the way she was, or what life experiences brought her to this point, but when Grandma and her two sister were tiny, she left them. She married again, had more children and left them as well, only to repeat the process yet again. Grandma's dad, seems to have at least tried. He had a serious issue with alcoholism. He lost his girls to foster care more than once. He would get sober, work like crazy to get the girls back. At some point he would back slide. He would start drinking again and eventually loose his girls again. Finally at age 13, Grandma married my Grandpa.

Grandpa was born somewhere in the middle of a bunch of kids. (12 maybe?) He was very sickly as a child. He had some cognitive heart defects. At the time, my Great Grandparents were told he would never survive long enough to walk and talk. When he did that, they were told he would never live long enough to go to school and so on. As a result he didn't spend much time in school and never learned to read or write. He dropped out of school in the sixth grade and learned how to drive semi trucks with his dad. He married my grandma at the ripe old age of 16.

As you can imagine given their ages they had a few trails. One time my grandpa called my Grandma a rather unkind name in front of several of his siblings. Now Grandma was a shy nervous girl. She doesn't like to be the center of attention. Instead of fighting with my grandpa, she picked up her tiny newborn and walked home. When Grandpa walked in the door a few hours later she smacked him on the head with her cast iron frying pan. She then calmly picked up her baby and went to bed. In this day and age it would be domestic violence. The people would have been called and Grandma would have been in serious trouble. But in her little world Grandpa never called her a bad name again!

Another time, Grandpa didn't want Grandma to go grocery shopping. He took their little farm truck to a job, leaving only his semi truck at home. Several hours later he drove past the grocery store only to she his big rig packed haphazardly in front of the store. Inside Grandma and her little ones were happily shopping for groceries.

Grandpa must have had the weight of the world on his shoulders. My grandparents had seven children before my grandpa was 30. He worked at every kind of job he could to care and provide for his family. After several years of driving it was discovered that he didn't even have a drivers license. It was arranged for my grandma to read the test for him. He then answered the questions orally and she wrote then answers for him. That was how he continued to have a CDL drivers licence until just a few years before he died.

By the time I married, Grandma and Grandpa seemed to have the perfect marriage. They never argued or fought. They always kissed each other hello and goodbye. I once asked Grandma how they managed to stay married through all of their many trials. Grandma said this "We needed each other. Both of us knew that if we walked away, that was it. We were on our own. Whatever was wrong in our marriage, we had more incentive to fix it than to leave."

I have given much thought to much Grandma's advice. Do we forget to need each other? Are our problems, concerns or success shared with everyone one but our husband or wife? Do we ever value our own individuality more than the relationship we have with our spouse. I think it is something to consider. think at very least, we can focus on making sure that our sweetheart is the one person we want to lean on, that we want to tell all of our secrets to. They should be the shoulder to cry on and the one person who always has our back. And when happiness and success come our way, I hope that our sweeties are the first people we want to run to.

Our story

Almost every little girl dreams of finding Prince Charming. They dream of the beautiful dress and beautiful wedding, and then of course....happily ever after. Somewhere along the way you figure out that marriage is hard work and a lot of it. Many marriages fail, creating broken hearts and broken families. When I see this happening, it makes my heart hurt. I believe that families should be forever, that marriage and family should be the thing we work hardest at in life. My parents taught me from a very young age that although marriage was hard, it was also worth putting all of your effort into making it work.

I fell in love with my own Prince Charming 18 years ago. I loved his blue eyes and the way he made me laugh. He made me feel like a princess. He was humble and sweet. We got married almost 17 years ago. We have seven children. Six of our children are living and one son was stillborn. While we had our up and our downs, life as we knew it was pretty good. Then *it* happened. A major road block, one that threatened to destroy our marriage and tear apart our family. Divorce was seriously considered. I wont get into the details of what happened. Those are between my sweet hubby, myself and our Father in Heaven. But I will say, that I have never endured anything more painful. Not even the loss of my child hurt me as much as this experience did. Through all of this experience though, I remembered what my parents had taught me. The thread ran strongly through me that if there was anything worth saving, my family, my marriage was the thing to save.

I can't say that suddenly Hubby and I were on the same page and decided to work things out. Nor can I say that resolution of this issue put us right back on our happily ever after path. I guess the first step for me was a lot of hanging on. Picture that common photo of the adorable kitten hanging on to the end of a rope with his tiny claws. Only, I wasn't adorable. I spent a lot of time crying, a lot of time praying. I am not a pretty cryer. If you ask a few people from my home town, they might tell you I was mentally ill, or extremely depressed. I was niether. It just took every single ounce of energy to keep it together. I also spent much of my time on my knees and praying. I pleaded with my Father in Heaven for myself, for my hubby and for my children. This all happened about five years ago.

Our problems didn't resolve over night. We have had some great turning points, moments when we opened our hearts and minds to each other. We mostly have had some good days and some bad days. Then thhere were a few more good days then bad days. There have been some back slides, that were just as scary and miserable as the first. Five years later I can say without a doubt that it has been worth it to work out the issues in our marriage and we have expirienced so much happiness and joy because of it. Happily ever after isn't just something at the end of fairy tales. It is something that we need to work for every day.

I have hesitated to write this blog. As we have just covered, my marriage has been far from perfect. But I feel strongly we need a place where people can go to recieve love and support in thier marriage.