Lately

The last few weeks have been pretty intense.

I've read more news than I probably have in the entire 12 months preceding January. And most of that news was pretty terrifying.

Having everyone home all of the time has also been an adjustment, not just for me but for all of us. Some of the 8 of us at home don't mind being with people every minute of every day. Some of us struggle a little more with the lack of quiet and personal space. But. As a mama, and in spite of my own personal preferences, I hate to send the little ones (and sometimes the bigger ones, too) away, knowing that their worlds have been just as upended as mine has been.

This past weekend was also intense, in mostly great ways, but still intense. We celebrated Sam's 10th birthday (I'll save that for another post), and that was lots of fun. It involved several batches of cinnamon rolls, pizza dough, and cakes, with varying degrees of success. Not sure what happened. It's like my baking talent just ... went on hiatus, lol. And there was no way to rescue anything but to try again. It was a good learning experience?

We also watched, from the comfort of our very own living room, the annual General Conference of our church members and leaders, which was very different and unique this year, thanks to social distancing. There were many, many wonderful words of hope and faith. I am so very glad that continuing revelation is a part of my life, and I am thankful for latter-day prophets and apostles to share words of inspiration and hope. I felt like I received many private promptings from the Holy Ghost about what I need to focus on right now to make myself a better disciple of Jesus Christ and just a better human being in general.

I read somewhere, on a long list of ideas for improving mental health during this time, that doing something repetitive such as sewing can be soothing to a stressed mind. Between that, and having far less taxiing to do than usual, I pulled out the Never-ending Project. I won't even tell you when I purchased this, and how long it's been scrunched up in a box, started but nowhere near completion, waiting for me to have free time (hahaha, while I was busy bringing 7 kids in to the world to rear, lol). Ah well, better late than never in this case. So this is what I've been obsessing over, instead of the daily blog post. It's coming along. And soothing my brain, too.

A Little Sunday Fun

It's not very often Rex poses for -- and I actually capture -- pictures likes this. Apparently the children thought our "lemonies" were a tad on the sour side tonight. Still, there was enough sugar for us all to be happy. However, Rex's face prompted a series of similarly entertaining poses. Sadly, some family members ... ahem ... declined to leave me with photographic evidence (or forbade me to share it).

After this there was an epic game of Risk (all hail Sam the Conqueror), which lasted just long enough for me to finally complete our federal and state taxes for 2019. A+ for me! I usually get them done much sooner, but 2019 was complicated, and 2020 has been even more so (shocking, I know!).

And then we opened the unexpected Amazon package on our doorstep. We left it quarantining there in the sunshine for several hours. Surprise! Sam's teachers sent him a fun treat, and he was thrilled!--so thrilled, in fact, that he goofed off for the camera and laughed afterwards. I love that kid, and I love the people who care about him!

We miss seeing our church friends on Sundays, but have had some sweet spiritual experiences at home while we are all apart. We enjoyed getting to participate in the worldwide fast today for COVID-19. We are keeping prayers close to our hearts for the world and our loved ones and those who are suffering.

Stay safe, friends!

Deep Breaths

I'm gonna be honest. Today was a little rough around the edges.

It could really be so much worse in so very many ways.

Sometimes the emotional and mental load of what's going on around us takes some personal adjustment. And sometimes adjustment is uncomfortable.

I was kind of done peopling. Except there are 8 of us here, and there's nowhere to go. I ended up taking a bath and eating some chocolate, and then found myself anxious to get back to the kids. But we are all a little on edge, and so things fall apart quickly. We are a work in progress.

This quarantine is especially difficult for our social butterfly, Sariah. She misses her friends. She misses library books. She misses meeting new people. And the time frame is becoming more of a reality for her. She's cried. And when she's cried, I've cried.

I can't decide what to do about the little device in my hands so much of the time. Social media can be a blessing and a curse. I've appreciated my friends' posts of goodness and humor.

The news articles are unbearable, and once I get started reading them, I have trouble stopping.

I'm not sleeping at night, and that's bad for the body's immune system, which we kinda need at top notch right now.

So.

Deep breaths. Lots of deep breaths.

Unplug for at least a few hours.

Gratitude. For my girls and getting to talk to them through the marvels of modern technology. For Unstable Unicorns. For Epic! and for Prodigy. For sunshine and cool breezes. For long walks. For chats with two of my BFFs. For all of the people working so hard to save lives. For hugs at home. For the whisperings of the Holy Ghost. For Sam's grateful heart. For Madeline's joyful giggles. For Sariah's sensitive heart. For Rex's sneaky humor. For Caleb's full laugh. For daddies who take their little girls for walks, and for husbands who compliment their wife's begrudging meal-making. For my Savior and for my Heavenly Father and Mother.

So.

Get up in the morning, and hug my babies, and be with them, because time is a gift.

It Was a Day...

Here is Madeline sleeping at my awesome toddler whisperer's house. I had a doctor's appointment today way up in Atlanta, and so I needed help with the littles.

I'm not sure my friend knows exactly how grateful I am for her service to us today. It's not just that I could go to an appointment. It's that I know she loves my little ones, even when they are CRAZY, and that she could give me this time to myself. My car ride was sooooo quiet, and that's sooooo cool. Thanks, friend!

The appointment was up by Bob's work so I went to visit him for lunch. Fun! I only got myself lost and turned around in north Atlanta a coupla times....

My doctor appointment is giving me fits. It was to get a second opinion about my thyroid issues and the pesky nodule in my thyroid. She told me she sees surgery in my future, just like the first endocrinologist did. That's a bummer.

A Little Thankfulness Goes a Long Way

Today was a really long day. Teenage antics and toddler antics and everyone-in-between antics. Sigh. Mommy was a grumpy bear at bedtime, and poor little people, Daddy was late getting home tonight to rescue them from the Mommy Monster.

But. My laundry pile is diminishing. My dish pile is shrinking. I successfully taught Sariah some math she has been struggling with. Sam is reading more words every day. I can actually see surfaces of my desk (I know, don't die). I fixed the ceiling fan chains in the little ones' room, which means they can't say they are scared of the dark in there anymore.

Caleb and Lizzi both made the high school swim team. Woohoo! I'm a double swim mom again (if I can handle it, lol).

Lizzi's FAFSA is done. Not that it does us any good. Now we only have eleventy-jillion colleges to apply to.

Rex helped me out with a bunch of chores without complaint. He also took Madeline outside to play. All you have to do is say the O word, and she's ready to go with whomever will take her.

I didn't have to leave my house today. That's a WIN. I'm such a homebody.

Tomorrow is P-day for Sister Haynes. That means we will hopefully see an email from her. Yay! She was away from home last year for school, but I was always able to call or (more likely) text her whenever I wanted. I've been missing that.

And there's a "cold front" coming in! That's good news, even for my always-chilly little self. This is my favorite season of the year!!

It was a long day, but I am blessed. There now. I'm glad we've had this little chat. :)

Aaand She's Off...

I'm gonna be honest here, today was a bit of a roller coaster.

We finally took some mission pics. They aren't fabulous because I'm not a photographer. But Hannah's a pretty good editor, especially with only a few little tools. These are a few of my favorites.

We called and talked to her dad and her little brother and sisters. Then we had a bit of time to kill, so we walked around the Provo temple, along with a bunch of other missionary families with some time to kill. :)

Her nerves were making me anxious, which in turn was notching up her nerves. So we hugged, drove over to the Missionary Training Center (or the MTC, which is across the street from the Provo temple), hugged again, and she was off with a wonderful host sister missionary who was bright and excited and wonderful! She will spend six weeks at the MTC learning to speak Samoan, and then look out, Anaheim, California; here she comes!

 

And then, in one of the universe's crazy turns of events that are so perfect and so fitting, I went to lunch with this guy and his beautiful wife. When I get home, I'll have to post our very first picture together, lol. No matter how old we get, he will always be the young man who shared what he valued most with a teenage girl he barely knew.

This is a beautiful friendship that started 24 years ago and halfway around the world in Russia of all places. Shawn has been one of the kindest and best friends I've ever had. He has loved me and encouraged me, and he valued me enough to share a Book of Mormon and his testimony of the gospel. His courage in doing so changed my life forever...and without him, I wouldn't have been here today with Hannah, as she, too, answers that call to serve and to share. Full circle. My heart is full.

Missing

I love Georgia. It is a great blessing in my life, and in the lives of our family (even if they don't always see it). I am in love with the hills and the pine trees and the fog, and I am in love with Southern kindness and hospitality and tradition and respect.

But every now and again, I find myself thinking of the things I miss from "back home" in Oklahoma: wide open spaces and sunsets that fill up the whole horizon. Bare tree branches against the sky. Country music stations that play old country. Folks who smile at you when you wait for them to cross the street. Sooner stuff everywhere, and upside down longhorns. Goofing off with my bestie, and being close enough to spend a day or two with our family.

They are precious moments. I pray that we are collecting them in our new home, too, even as I rely on the older ones to carry me through the new times.

Be Still, My Soul

Be Still, My Soul

1. Be still, my soul: The Lord is on thy side;

With patience bear thy cross of grief or pain.

Leave to thy God to order and provide;

In ev’ry change he faithful will remain.

Be still, my soul: Thy best, thy heav’nly Friend

Thru thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

2. Be still, my soul: Thy God doth undertake

To guide the future as he has the past.

Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;

All now mysterious shall be bright at last.

Be still, my soul: The waves and winds still know

His voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.

3. Be still, my soul: The hour is hast’ning on

When we shall be forever with the Lord,

When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,

Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.

Be still, my soul: When change and tears are past,

All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Text: Katharina von Schlegel, b. 1697; trans. by Jane Borthwick, 1813–1897

There's a great version of this on YouTube.  The 2nd verse is a little different, and I prefer the verse above.  But this is still a beautiful rendition by Libera, the boys choir from the UK.

This is one of the songs that, on a dark night, I found myself humming, not knowing the words.  After I'd hummed it repeatedly for about an hour, it occurred to me to find my hymnbook and look up the lyrics.  It really spoke to me about how my depression was my personal "cross of grief or pain," about how the Lord was my best and heavenly friend, and how the way out was through Christ--the thorny way just like the thorns He wore upon His head as He worked out the Atonement.  It was the first time I understood that Christ's Atonement isn't just the cure for our sins but for all of the things that ail us.

The second verse was personal for me as well, since I was going through an intense period of asking Why?  Why did my own brain and body betray me?  Why was this my challenge in life?  Why couldn't I just be happy like everybody else?  The funny thing about my depression was that I knew I "should" be happy with my life, but I couldn't make myself do it.  This verse taught me to trust that God has a plan for me, even though I don't know what it is, and someday "All now mysterious shall be bright at last."  Sometimes trusting in God's plan means not getting hung up on the whys, and for me, this was one of those times.  I don't ask why very often anymore.  It just is.  It's part of Heavenly Father's plan, and I trust that He is smarter than I.

The third verse seals that assurance for me.  "When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,/Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored."  Often with depression, it feels like disappointment, grief, fear, sorrow are larger than life, impossibly difficult to deal with, and happier emotions are dim and hard to imagine, let alone experience.  I love that phrase--"love's purest joys restored"--I'm banking on that.  I know that already many of my joys have been restored to me, but in the dark moments, this is a promise for the future that I hold onto.

Each person's cross is different.  And sometimes the cross we have to bear at one time in our life is different than our cross at another time in life.  What I know is that this hymn at one time taught me to hope, and it taught me that Heavenly Father sent His love to me when I needed it most.  When I need to take a deep breath, and find that still, quiet place in my heart, this is my go-to song.  Hope it brings you some peace, too.

On Pedophiles and Prayer

We have recently fielded several questions from people here and in Oklahoma about certain events that occurred right after we moved to Georgia.  I have previously debated the wisdom of posting this story.  However, it is a record of our family history, and more importantly, a record of Heavenly Father's watch care for us, and how He answers our prayers in the way that is best for us.

When we moved into our new ward (congregation) at church, we were pleasantly surprised to learn that another family from Oklahoma had moved in just a few weeks before.  They were getting baptized our first Sunday in town.  After years of living in a ward where college families moved in and out pretty regularly, we had learned that the quickest way to get involved in your new church family is to ... well, get involved.  So we attended this family's baptisms.  We discovered they were from Edmond, about 45 minutes to an hour from Norman.  Although, we didn't know this family in OK, it was nice just knowing someone around who would know what the Warren Theater is, what "Don't Edmond my Norman" means, and that when the tornado sirens go off, you are, of course, supposed to run outside and check the sky.

As if those coincidences weren't enough, this family was renting the house next door to the house we were trying to buy.  They had as many kids as we did, and their two daughters were the exact ages of our older girls.  We really looked forward to getting to know them.  They seemed like good solid people.  The kids were kind and polite.  After coming over to help us move into our apartment, they came back to bring me cake and ice cream for my birthday after a long, physically straining, tearful day.  Their kindness made me cry more.

A few weeks went by, and then the sky crashed a little bit.

The father had been arrested and taken into custody here as a fugitive ... from Oklahoma, where he had run from his trial for the molestation of some girls, including his two daughters.  In his absence, the jury had convicted him on maybe 12 counts of molestation and sentenced him to something like 186 years in prison.

Along with the rest of our new ward, we found the news stunning, shocking.  We were disbelieving and felt betrayed.  And then: how did we not detect this crazy perv amidst us?  And how was he living with his wife, the mother of the children he had apparently abused, and those very children!?  Oh my heavens, we'd had the man in our house, talked to him at Wal-Mart, encouraged our children to befriend his children!!

But along with feeling sideswiped by the news, Bob and I felt an immense sense of relief and a sure knowledge that Heavenly Father was looking out for our family.  We had been trying to get that house--which would ultimately be next door to this family--since our initial visit here in June.  We had an offer in on it, and were hoping to be able to close on it as soon as possible so we wouldn't have to find a temporary living situation.  We actually tried to rent the house, but no matter what our real estate agent tried and no matter how fervent our prayers, no dice.  We ended up having to rent this apartment, which cost us a significant chunk of money, and will force us to move our belongings a second time, AND I have to walk our ridiculous dogs every freakin' day.

But you know what?  Heavenly Father listened to our prayers to get that house when we wanted it, and He said no, repeatedly and firmly.  Instead, He listened to our many prayers over the years to keep our children safe and to preserve them from danger.  Had we moved in next door to this family, our children would have played with their children, we would have developed a relationship of neighborly "trust," never knowing what really lurked there.

Many people here are curious as to whether we knew this family when we were in Oklahoma.  I think it's a valid concern ... I would want to know that, because I'd be wondering if we had kept such sickening and important information from the ward that had so lovingly and unquestioningly taken us all in.  The answer is: no, we didn't know.  We don't watch the local news very often, and weren't taking the paper as we got ready to move.  This family lived in Edmond, on the other side of OKC.  Oklahoma looks like a little nothing state in the middle of nowheresville, but there are a lot of people between Norman and Edmond.  It later emerged that this family weren't really new converts to our church, but had actually been members back in Oklahoma for a long time.  That's two stakes (groups of 8-11 LDS congregations, about 2000 members in each stake) away from our stake in Norman, which stretched south, not north.  We were as blindsided as everyone else here.

And for the people curious back home, this man is in custody again, and his family has moved away and we have not seen them since.  No dangers of living next door to that pedophile.  Although my heart still breaks for those kids.

That's a lot of really weird coincidences.  I don't believe in coincidences; I believe things happen for a reason.  I don't know why things happened the way they did in this case, and I probably don't want to know.  I hope our presence here made that guy really, really nervous; I hope that somehow it made his stay in Georgia--with those kids--shorter than it otherwise would have been.  And I do know that it has reminded US to be more cautious in our friendships and with our children.

I count my blessings every day, every single day we are in this crazy, yard-less, half-basement apartment with 6 kids and 2 dogs.  I count my blessings every single day that goes by that I don't own a home again.  Do I want out of this apartment?  Do I want to spread out and own my own home again?  Heck yeah!!  But I don't have those things because my Father in Heaven kept us safe in spite of ourselves.  I'll take that any and every day of the week if it means He put my children's safety before my uninformed desires.  When we prayed to Him with meekness, and included a sincere "not my will, but thine be done," He listened and prioritized our needs and desires.

I don't know why not all prayers end up like ours did.  My heart aches for those children, for surely they prayed for relief when they were at the mercy of someone else's agency.  All I know to do now is to include them in my prayers.  After all, they work, right?  Please include them in your prayers as well.

Thank You, New Ward

Tonight I am so thankful for our new ward (a.k.a. congregation) at church here in Georgia.

Earlier this week, I had a friend check in on me because I looked sad at church on Sunday.  I didn't really need anything that she could give me, but it was so nice to have someone say, "Let me know what I can do to help you."

There is another family here who remind me of home and loan their grandmas to my kids and their brand new grandbaby to me to cuddle.

This evening was the Young Women in Excellence program for the youth-aged girls at church.  That would be Hannah and Lizzi's scene.  Although Hannah earned her Personal Progress award and medallion in our ward in Norman right before we moved, her new Young Women's Presidency elected to honor her at tonight's YWIE program the same way they honored the girls who earned theirs here.  That means Hannah was recognized again and given a beautiful pearl necklace.  It was something that they didn't have to do for her but did anyway.

To top that off, Hannah was a little sad tonight, missing her old friends, I think, among other things.  It was a beautiful sight to see her new friends put their arms around her shoulders and make her smile.  I watched as they checked on her and with her and kept her with them.

It does my heart good to feel the Lord's blessings and to know His hands have made this path for us.

Sweet Girls

 
These are my high maintenance girls.  I thought Lizzi was diva-ish.  Until, that is, The Diva showed up on the scene.  Sometimes Sariah makes Lizzi look like a pacifist.  And that's saying somethin'.

Last week, Lizzi and Hannah built a fort between their beds for Sam and Sariah to play in.  It was the most amusing thing Sam had done in ages.  There are no pictures of him with the fort because he wouldn't come out.

Sariah and Lizzi hung out in there for awhile, too.  These pictures make my heart smile.  As crazy as my kids make me sometimes, I love that the older ones take time to play with the little ones (even when they fight at the end...really? you're picking a fight with someone 8 years younger than you??).  I love that the little ones can count on their older sibs to entertain them from time to time.  I love that they have each other for comfort and kindness and giggles and goodness.

It's Hard Work Growing Up...

...especially when your mom is making you do so against your will.  Sariah is learning to sleep through the night without joining us in bed.  It's only taken me 3+ years but I've finally had to draw the line.  I'm flippin' exhausted (which is a very bad thing for my depression, incidentally).

Translation: last night was a reeeeeaaaalllllly long night.  But we did it.  I made her cry in her room on the other side of the gate until she fell back to sleep.  It was about an hour.  It was a long hour.  But I'm hoping that a few more nights of endless agony for us both will reward me (and her, too!!) with a full night's sleep in the very near future.  It's all about the sacrifice, right?

But in the category of tender mercies, Samuel slept from 8:30 to 5:30--he even slept through the hour long joy ride.  Woohoo!

Samuel

I am warning you up front.  This is the story of Samuel's birth.  If you are uncomfortable with that, feel free to dispense with reading this post.  But I don't mind putting it up for my friends who are far away and want to know the story, and I want to record it as the miracle that it was.  However, since I'm recording for my own family history purposes, it's long and detailed, because that's my favorite way of writing.  Like I said, you've been warned.

I'm going to tell you from the get-go that despite the number of children I've actually given birth to, the whole birth thing is really terrifying for me.  I don't cope well with pain, and I have a tendency to get really anxious, panicky even (Bob's translation here would be something akin to "She goes totally nuts!").  We've decided that had I lived in any other era of medicine, or even in some of the poorer regions of the world, I would have died in childbirth.  My anxiety makes me really tense and draws the whole process out.  That means that with my oldest I labored for 12 hours, with my 2nd for 24 hours, and with my 3rd for 36 hours.  Remember that the 4th is adopted--best birth for me ever!  My 5th was an induction and it was ... extremely hard--let's just say that I labored for 9 hours--the first 7 hours NOTHING happened, and then it ALL happened way too fast in the last 2 hours.  And did I mention that the only child who came before her due date was Sariah, and that's because she was induced?

The point of all of this is to tell you that I spent this pregnancy with our 6th child trying to figure out how to make things easier, and trying to mentally prepare myself for whatever might come.  I read a bunch of books by midwives and a bunch of books about natural birth and a bunch of books about coping with labor.  The conclusions I came to are that 1) pain medicines are evil, and 2) you have to "ride the waves" of labor (whatever the freak that means), and 3) you have to stay calm.  Here's where I start laughing hysterically.  Okay, in reality, I came away from all that reading with a lot to think about.  I had no idea how to stay calm, but I knew I needed to.

That's when I started praying.  With past births, I've prayed a lot before, but usually about things that were just outside my influence, like which doctor was on call (it's always worked out to my satisfaction; if you know my doctor's practice, you know what this means), whether I had a c-section or not (I've never had to have one), whether I could make it without an epidural (whatever).  Nothing wrong with praying about those things, I'd wager.  This time around, I knew what I wanted, and I asked Heavenly Father to help me figure out how to get that, always with the condition that we went with His will.  I didn't really want to add that condition, but I did it anyway.  ;)

So here's what I wanted: a birth that I could remember.  This because my last 3 epidurals were a little overdone.  They had to wake me up to push with Lizziy.  Or with Caleb, the details are a little fuzzy since I had just come down with a full-blown sinus infection and thought I was going to die before the contractions started coming.  I didn't want that to happen this time.  So, in my mind, this time around, that meant no epidural (ha!), and no freak allergy-related illnesses at the last minute.  I wanted to be able to stay calm, like all the books said, so that I wouldn't top all the other labors with like a 48-hour labor or something equally dreadful.  I wanted it to be a truly beautiful and spiritual experience.  The books talk about that, right?  Oh yeah, and though I didn't mention this in my prayers because I absolutely knew better, a super-short labor, a less-than-gargantuan newborn, and a timely arrival (i.e. not 2 weeks late) did cross my mind.

I did not stay calm, but it was a memorable (and short) birth, and it really was beautiful and spiritual.

I had been feeling very discouraged, because I'd been to the doctor on Thursday, and nothing had changed.  Still dilated at a 1, and the baby hadn't even inched downwards at all.  Dr. P set me up to be induced, I guess because he didn't think the baby would show up any faster than my other babies did either.  I was excited about setting the date, even though I wasn't too hip on being induced again, but I was really disappointed that all of my praying and working on relaxing through Braxton Hicks contractions hadn't accomplished a blimmin' thing.


Hindsight being 20/20, on Saturday, I should have figured out that the baby was coming.  I had a backache the entire day, and then I couldn't sleep that night because my belly was so uncomfortable and tense.  Silly me!  I really have given birth 4 other times, I swear.

I finally went to bed at 3 a.m., but woke up whimpering 45 minutes later with a decent contraction.  My labors never start with decent contractions.  Bob happened to be awake, and as I was laying there, my eyes popped open, and I jumped out of bed.  "Hmm, that's interesting!" and I ran to the bathroom.  My water had broken!  I hoped.  Eight.  Days.  Before.  My.  Due.  Date.  Wow.

Let's just say that I hadn't packed my bag or anything for the baby.  We had just set up the crib that day, and I'd finally washed his coming-home outfit.  In fact,  I kept telling Bob we had plenty of time; last time my water broke, I still had to have help getting that baby here.  And besides, what if I'd finally just peed my pants; I was 9 months pregnant after all.  Blah, blah, blah.  He completely ignored me.  How did he know?!  He got in the shower, and told me to pack my bag.

He was smart.  I was having contractions every 5 minutes, and I was beginning to have an inkling that this baby was showing up faster than the others.  We called beautiful Lorna at 4:freakin':30 in the morning, and got her all set up to do Easter with the kiddos.  (I'm still sad that I missed that; Sariah's at just the right age for hunting Easter eggs!)

We're at the hospital by 5, praying that they will keep me.  They check me, and I'm dilated to a 3 and 70% effaced, but the nurse warns me to wait to see if my water is really broken.  I'm doing a mental happy dance though, because I've never made it to the hospital at anything but a 1.  They were keeping me, even if they didn't think so yet.  I had already started asking for my epidural.

I know, I know.  I said no epidural.  But by then the contractions had jumped from 5 minutes apart to 2 minutes apart (and they were still wondering whether to keep me??), and they were getting more intense.  I just knew that I was going to need the epidural.  And besides, I'd gotten to a 5 now without one so I was progressing in my pain management efforts, right?  I'd never gotten past about a 3 without an epidural, unless you count Sariah's birth, when the epidural didn't actually work.

Getting the epidural was the painful part.  It took the poor guy 4 tries, because I was shaking so badly and couldn't stop.  He told me to, but I couldn't.  The nurse told me later that's because I was in transition and didn't have any control over it.  I was lucky to get my epidural at all, she said.  But once I got it...yeehaw!  It was the best epidural ever.  Just right.  Worth all the trouble.  Took the pain away, but I could still feel my legs, and it didn't make me drowsy.  The anesthesiologist said he knows he got it right because I was smiling and laughing.  Somebody asked me later if I knew how fast the baby was going to come, would I have gotten the epidural?  Heck yeah!  I love me my epidurals.  But they are a fine art.  I'm still blowing kisses to the anesthesiologist today for doing such a good job.

Then, for a brief moment, all the doctors and nurses were gone, and Bob and Hannah and I were alone together in the room.  Bob looked at me and freaked out, because where the second before there had been smiling and laughing Tracy, now there was crying Tracy.  He must have thought something was wrong, but I had gone all teary-eyed because things were going so well and so differently from all the other times.  Without a doubt my prayers were being answered, though what I did to deserve it this time, I don't know.  I looked out the window and the sun was up and shining; it reminded me of one of my favorite scriptures: "weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning" (Ps. 30:5).  That happened when Hannah was born, too.  It felt like we were coming full circle.

And then right before 8, as happens with hospital births, the room filled up with people.  Pretty soon, Dr. P shows up, and he looked wiped out tired.  He says, "They called me about you at 5:30 this morning, and I rolled over and went back to sleep.  I figured I wouldn't see you until at least noon."  That's what I thought, too!  One and a half contractions, not very many pushes, and a few minutes (oh yeah, and a whole conversation about our children's names, ending with Dr. P's prediction that Rex's nickname with the girls will be Sexy Rexie) later, out came Samuel into the world.

Of course he was beautiful!  Just the right color, even if he didn't really want to cry much.  Lots of dark hair.  At first, he reminded me of Sariah, but then it became Caleb and Hannah.  Oh wait!  Our kids are cookie cutters.  Except for Elisabeth.  She broke the mold!  Anyhow, Samuel survived the knot in his cord (which Dr. P untied before the student nurse could look at it), and weighed in at 7'3"--my smallest baby by an entire pound, and 2 whole pounds smaller than the last baby.  He was tiny!  (If your babies were smaller, there is no need to comment--this is the only little baby I get).  And he's perfect in every way!!!  More pics coming soon.  It wasn't exactly the way I planned it, but it was the perfect answer to all our prayers.

P.S.  It only took me two weeks to write this.  LOL!

The Things Wives Remember

On this day, 14 years ago, my wonderful husband proposed to me (finally!!!) not far from this place on the beautiful OU campus, and I obviously said, "Well, it's about time."  Okay, I didn't really say that.  I said, "Yes!!!" (be still, my beating heart!) but it really was about time.  I don't remember what I was wearing, but I remember he was wearing those slacks that looked so dang good, and that it was moonlight and much warmer than it is here today, and that there were flowers everywhere (but when are there not flowers everywhere on campus?).  It's one of the reasons that I love spring in Oklahoma so much.

And then we tried to kill off our parents--and especially mine--by getting married within about 8 weeks.  In retrospect, that might have been a bit mean.  But it's a little late to do anything about it now.

Meanwhile, I am so grateful for Bob.  We've had our share of ups and downs, and given that I'm still a hormonal basket case, I'm sure there will be more ups and downs in the future.  But I'm so proud that we have pushed through the hard times we've had, and come out stronger for them.  And having spent some time around some other husbands recently, I'm so grateful that my husband is loving and respectful and kind and that I can trust him to do the right things.  We don't always agree on what the right things are, but I always know that he's trying his best, and I know that he'll be there for me whenever I follow after my crazy schemes.  In short, he's amazing, and I love, love, love him!

Oh, the Drama!

Wanting to post something cheerful after a day chock-full of drama.  It wasn't horrible drama.  PTA anyone?  What about 1 predictably unpredictable toddler and 4 grumpy children in trouble for ... integrity issues?  No?  Okay, well I did finish a bunch of laundry and paperwork.  That's a good thing.  I can actually see the top of my desk (in places, lol!).  And despite a bitter wind, the sun was out, so all my serotonin and endorphins are firing happily away.  That's a good thing, too.  Oh, and there's chocolate ice cream in the freezer, and my bed has a heated mattress pad, and I have a book (or twelve) waiting eagerly to be read.

Yeah, it's all good.

How History Affects the Present, and the Future, Too

Just this weekend, I was pondering that I haven't posted anything about tender mercies lately.  Have they not been around, or have I just not noticed them?  (I know, it's a silly question, really.)

And then Sunday rolled around.  After a rough night with the Temper Tantrum Queen (a.k.a. Sariah), Bob took the kids to church, and I caught up my sleep.  When he returned, we ate a quick lunch, and then I took the kids down to Blanchard for the baptism of a friend's daughter while Bob took a nap.

It was a sweet experience for me.  The baptism itself was exceptional, with lots of spirit and goodness.

But the real tender mercy of the whole thing came from another source.  Bob grew up here in Oklahoma, and as a member of our church.  There are so many people who have known him since he was knee-high to a grasshopper, as they say, in and out of the church.  We ran into quite a few of those people yesterday in Blanchard.  The sweet thing is that they clearly have a lot of affection for Bob, and extend it openly and willingly to me--as well as our children--with kindness and lots of heart.

I know many people from way back when I was little, most of them family, with occasional friends thrown in here and there.  But I don't regularly associate, face to face or voice to voice, with anyone who has known me "since the beginning" (excepting my parents and brother, of course).*  I'm sure Bob wishes his old friends wouldn't recall how he wore his ties when he was 12, or recount to our children what sorts of things he blew up as a youth, but there is something so comforting to me in knowing these good, good people who have influenced his life for better (or worse), and who still care so deeply about him and his life, and by extension, me and our beautiful little family.

Truly, it was the best way for Heavenly Father to remind me of His love for us.

* And let's not forget that part of the reason Facebook is so addicting is that it does allow you to reconnect with all the distant corners of your memories.  It may not be face to face or voice to voice, but I so enjoy talking with old friends via Facebook.

A Better Day

I had a rough morning today. My 10 year old daughter who ought to know better threw a 45 minute tantrum that involved screaming, shouting, punching one of her brothers, and trying to headbutt her pregnant mother's belly. I was about ready to pull my hair out, and probably hers, too.

But I finally got her and her friend (the elementary school Monday morning orchestra crew) and the boys off to school. And then I got the middle school orchestra brigade delivered.

When I got home I found this note on my desk written in bright red Sharpie (oh, my son knows the ways to my heart). It made my whole entire day.

For one thing, this a huge amount of progress for my son, who sometimes expresses his stress and frustration (which he probably had a lot of this morning) in ways not that much different than his sister did.

For another thing, I'm pretty sure he wrote this while he was checking his email. We set up his email a week or two ago so that he can work on some of his literacy/reading comprehension skills by emailing friends and family. He really loves to get email. And again, for him to ask for email instead of crying about it, this is real progress.

And for the last thing, this was just what I needed this morning. What a lucky mom I am!

Today I'm Thankful That...

• My husband is still employed.
• My children have good teachers.
• Sariah is feeling much better.
• Jonah's leg is healing.

Tender Mercies

I have a friend who frequently documents the Lord's "tender mercies" in her blog.  I've wondered for awhile where she came up with this phrase.  But lo and behold, I figured it out (and felt a little bit like a dunce).

I've been rereading the Book of Mormon for the first time in a long time.  I'm not very far in, but man oh man, Nephi sure talks about the Lord's tender mercies upon his family a lot.  How could I have missed this before?

It's helped me to become a lot more aware of the tender mercies in my life lately.  And I'm glad.  We're going into the Thanksgiving season, which is always a good time to be grateful for our blessings (and you get reminded a lot about it, too).  However, I've found that the best season of the year for gratitude is the Christmas holidays.  As a culture, we swing from the "extreme" gratitude of Thanksgiving to the extreme gimme-gimmes of the biggest gift-receiving season of all time.  It's very hard not to get caught up in all the commercialism and consumerism.  Granted, as a parent, the focus isn't quite as selfish--after all, I spend my entire December trying to figure out what fabulous gifts to give to my children, and I often struggle with composing a wish list for the people who would shop for me.  But still, I think I might even get caught up in vicarious selfishness on my children's behalf (for example, they would be happy with that gift, but they would be absolutely thrilled with this one, so who really cares that it costs $20 more and then I might have to buy more gifts for the other kids to even things out....?  I know you know what I'm talking about!).

In the past, though, I have observed that the best, most memorable, and most meaningful Christmases I've celebrated, have been those in which I've taken time to write personal notes on my Christmas cards, expressing gratitude for the many people who have blessed our lives.  Or those when we have focused on the needs of others instead of our very own wants.  Or when we've taken the time to truly enjoy our friends and family.  I'm talking about the Christmas seasons when we've managed to remember that Christmas is really about the greatest gift the world has ever received, the Son of God, Jesus Christ.

That's a tender mercy.

To encourage me in this line of thinking, Heavenly Father has recently ... er, blessed ... our family with a month of various illnesses to bring us to our knees help us remember to be humble, grateful, and loving.  I will commemorate our October by enumerating the things I counted most as our tender mercies, and lest you mistake me, I am completely serious about the beginnings of this list--I have never been more grateful for some of these things:

• Penicillin.  Thank you, Alexander Fleming and all the others who surely worked under God's inspiration to discover this in our world.  Strep throat is absolutely the pits.  I'd forgotten how much so.
• Tylenol.  Okay, really I'm thankful for ibuprofen, but I'm not allowed to take that while I'm pregnant, so I'll just be grateful for Tylenol, which did the best it could.
• Gatorade/G2.  Swine flu, anyone?  I credit gallons and gallons of Gatorade for keeping the 6 of us completely hydrated and hopefully better than we otherwise would have been (dehydration is supposed to be one of the most common side effects of any type of flu).  Now my 2-year-old is completely addicted to the stuff, but I suppose there are plenty of worse things she could be hankering after.
• The football carpool, and anybody else who drove my kids anywhere during the month of October.
• My husband and his willingness to come home early to take care of his flu-ridden family (if it were me, I'd seriously have thought about finding a weekend assignment...but he was blessed for his goodness, I think, in that he didn't actually get the flu).
• My husband and the mountains of laundry he did while he was home.  And the staggering quantities of Lysol and disinfectant he used in our house.  LOL!
• My sweet daughter Hannah, who mothers as well as I do, even though I never intended for her to take that job as a 12-year-old.  She seriously took care of the candy-infested children and cleaned up the kitchen and made sure a bunch of other things got done while I was in bed, teeth chattering with a fever that Tylenol could only do so much for (see above).
• My wonderful son Caleb, who took over getting Sariah back to sleep in the middle of the night when I was too sick to get out of bed.
• My Lizzy-girl who got up on time and got ready for school every day last week without being asked to, and who managed to catch up a great majority of her sick-work without her mother's assistance (translate: nagging).
• And my littles, Rex and Sariah, who forced me to get out of bed every day and participate in their lives.  If that sounds ungrateful, it's not intended to be.  I was really grateful that I had to just keep swimming, just keep swimming (as Dory would say), because they're little and they need their mom to be a functioning human being for them.  Without that, I would have crawled in bed for days on end.  I might have healed faster then, but I would have missed smiling and laughing at their antics.  And after all, laughter is the best medicine.
• Sunshine.  Sunshine.  Sunshine.  We usually have so much of that here that we don't have to stop and think about it.  But it's been a shockingly wet and drizzly September and October, much like the Pacific Northwest or England, as various friends of mine have pointed out.  It's been dark and gloomy.  Now I notice when the sun stretches in through my bathroom's eastern window.  I want to reach out to it and give thanks.

Over the last month, all of these things have given me quiet moments of reflection when I have felt the Lord's hand blessing our lives in little ways.  They are indeed His tender mercies.  (And thanks, Karen!)