I will heal my own heart up

Today we shall call "Bare your soul Saturday." I wrote the essay to follow for Nie Nie's "Motherhood Is" essay contest. I never entered it - I think because it was too long and I didn't have the time to go through and figure out how to make it more concise. For some reason today I felt like revisiting and posting it.

First, some pictures via the camera timer of Frankie and I playing in the rain on my Mom's front porch last Sunday. Lovely summer rainstorms.

 I haven't had many moments of direct spiritual guidance in my life. I get quiet pushes, peaceful feelings, but they usually come slow and only with much effort. As a newlywed when I started drooling over the babies at church, the revelation came differently. Within a week of us praying to know if we should start a family I had a dream where Jeremy and I visited a baby boy, our baby boy. I woke up so awash in love, and knew I would do anything to be a Mother. That morning as I got ready I was astonished that the usual stiffness and fatigue that accompanied my vaguely diagnosed autoimmune disease was gone. We had our answer. Once I was off of the necessary medications I was pregnant right away.

Pregnancy was magical for me. Frankie arrived tiny, healthy, and beautiful. My Mother in Law presented us with a breast pump at the hospital, saying she figured it was an investment. I smiled, and affirmed her suspicions. Yes, we wanted a large family. I always thought four sounded nice, maybe six.

3 and half years later I sat in the rocking chair in our spare room, staring at the stars out the window, no new baby in my arms. The last few months had seen my health deteriorate to the point that it hurt to do almost everything, even sleep sometimes. I had been in denial of how sick I was, mostly because I wanted to be pregnant so badly. But I couldn't pick up Frankie, and I could barely hold our friend's baby, so that night with sobs and prayers I decided we would stop the mild fertility treatments we had been pursuing.

A few weeks later we visited the E.R. and I spent a week in the hospital, finally learning I had Lupus. I will never forget the moment that the doctor advised us against having more biological children. For as sick as I was, the thought of never holding another baby in my arms, of Frankie never having a sibling to love and grow old with, tore me in two. In all the suffering and trials of my illness and my life, nothing has been more painful then that moment.

My six years as a Mother have been what I expected and not what I expected all at once. The joy of pajama mornings, sunny afternoons, and bedtime snuggles with Frankie are more then I could have imagined. When Frankie wishes to have “a friend who lived here and didn't have to go home,” or asks why we don't have a baby at our house, it breaks my heart. Sometimes my confidence suffers, as I see happy families with many children, and I wonder if it could have been me had I only been a better Mother.

But the quiet spiritual pushes and peaceful moments still come. They help me understand, and then remind me again and again, why it is okay that my family is small. I think often of the the Biblical Sarah, who wasn't blessed with her valiant son until she was in her old age. I am ever grateful that the most direct guidance I have ever received from the Lord allowed me to bear a child, during what will probably be the only window of my life that it was possible.

Amidst blessings of health and prosperity I try to enjoy every moment I have with my wonderful Frankie, and our times together as a little family unit. I try to appreciate the ease of my life as I see others busy with many little ones. I plan what I will do with my future as Frankie enters school. Even as we pray for the miracle of adoption, I know that I am no less of a Mother if I am a Mother to only one. And I am so thankful every day for that privilege.

What a wonderful world

I should be working on this years Search and Rescue portrait. (It was supposed to be DONE 2 weeks ago.) That was the plan this afternoon. But these photos from yesterday were calling my name. I had to play with them a little bit. And I miss blogging.

Alison stopped by yesterday and we took some pictures of Miss Sophie in her Easter dress. And of course I had to make Frankie take a few, too. After all, I had gone through the effort of moving the one painting off of the wall in the dining room.

Life is beautiful. (Here's a few reasons why:)

Springtime with open windows, pretty flowers, and the sound of Frankie playing with all of his buddies outside. General Conference this weekend. Frankie is quite fond of his new plaid shorts, he prefers wearing them with striped shirts. Yesterday was his Kindergarten registration. Saturday is Jeremy's Spring Opener Volleyball tournament. Work has been crazy, but I've had a breather week this week. Dr. Carlos told me on Monday that my health is fabulous, and that I have as long of a life expectancy as anyone else. I'm going to be leaving the Primary and re-joining the ranks of Relief Society (actually mixed feelings about that, but change is good). My sliding glass door is clean. There is a vase of daffodils on my counter. The ants Frankie caught are back outside and not crawling around in my house. We are planning a trip to California and Disneyland in September.  Easter in 2 weeks. We got to see many of our friends, all at once, last weekend. I'm updating our 72 hour kits, and it's not making me completely overwhelmed this time. Frankie is on his first soccer team, and it is great fun to watch 5 year old's play soccer. (Pictures soon.) And for the first time in years, I found a dress I love. Just in time for Easter.

Moving Forward

For the last week and a bit Frankie and I have had pneumonia. Bleh. I wouldn't recommend it. I'm a wuss when I get really sick these days, because it gives me anxiety. As soon as I start feeling feverey and weak I panic that my lupus is what's being effected and I won't get better. I hate nights when I'm sick, because I'm a ball of stress the whole night long as I toss and turn and cough.

But now we're on the up and up. Frankie's completely better and I'm 90%. We've been told the coughs may linger for weeks, though, and people look at us like lepers when we cough. It's some serious sounding coughing. But not contagious, I promise.

It's the middle of January and I'm finally getting around to thinking about my New Year's Resolutions. Before 30 Resolutions. Feels like some should be monumental, but really they are mostly same old.

1. Find recipes for and learn to cook 5 new meals that are easy for me, and my family likes to eat.
2. Start having family scripture study in the mornings, because evenings are too hit and miss.
3. Get back to eating healthy (I really let things go at the end of the year last year. Darn holiday treats.)
4. Spend more time outdoors.
5. Get my pictures organized and get discs of pictures to friends and family.
6. Take fewer pictures. Yes, I know that doesn't sound right. I still want to capture all of the things I do, but get out of the habit of taking 15 shots of the same thing. Because then I have to spend more time sorting and editing later. More isn't always better, sometimes more is just more.
7. Carve out time daily, so that I'm not just quickly praying and reading my scriptures, but also meditating and doing some yoga and pilates. I want to center some of the meditation on an act of service I can do for someone else that day. This may require waking up before Frankie. I'm still figuring it out.
8. Go on 2 date nights a month with my husband. Only plan one of them.
9. Avoid Facebook. Because it's rotten.
10. Keep up on the Blogs and write in my journal more often.

p.s. I helped Frankie set goals this year, it was encouraged at preschool. His goals are to learn to tie his shoes by himself and to be able to write his name with the lowercase letters perfectly. I'll keep you updated on his progress.

I just can't contain

A year ago I was in the hospital.

Today I went to the nursery with Frankie and came home with the splurge of these pink hydrangeas. 

They are so beautiful they make me emotional. I think the people around me thought I was crazy as I helped Frankie chose the ones to load into the wagon. I wanted to skip and cry all at the same time.

Everything about life is still more crisp to me. I can never express enough how good it feels to be able to LIVE. Things will never be perfect, because then it wouldn't be life. But occasionally we get to glimpse perfection. Even if it's only in a flower. 

Fire and Ice

Snow Day in the desert. (Yes, at the beginning of January. I know.)

Me and Frankie went to my Mom's and played in her yard. Frankie was especially excited about having a snowball fight. I was glad we had this little bit of snow fun time since we didn't make it to the cabin this year over Christmas or New Years.

After the picture my Mom took of Frankie and I with the snowman, he wanted to add a few more touches. Including grabbing a bird out of one of Mom's pots, and declaring that the snowman needed a hat.

On Martin Luther King Day, we joined some of my family at the red rocks for a picnic and what Frankie has decided to call a "hike-out." I was *shingle-ing at the time, so I was so grateful for my neice and nephews taking care of my boy while he ran around. It was so nice to be outside on such a beautiful day.

Hunter is so awesome to play with Frankie and help him out. It makes my heart happy to see this 16 year old kid being such a good cousin. Frankie adores him.



*Still shingle-ing, if you were wondering. We're in week five now, yay! For the last few weeks it's been a second round, which the dermatologist said is actually a different kind of rash. It basically feels like a more mild version of the shingles, only SO ITCHY. Sometimes I want to lose my mind. Hopefully this is over soon. But hey, it could be worse.

Teeter, totter; bread and water

Up:

How crazy Jeremy's schedule will be this semester was over hyped.
It won't be any worse then last semester, and perhaps better.

Down:

Shingles. Ouch and itchy and much frustration. They're better one day, miserable again the next.
2 weeks of annoyance now. If you have no idea what shingles are, google it.

Up:

Beautiful weather. Beautiful child riding his bike. Red rocks. Sunshine.

Down:

I haven't been able to exercise much, the stiffness is settling back in.

Up:

I think my normal face is finally back, and my new hair is curly.

Down:

Any tips on styling short, curly hair? I look a bit homeless sometimes.

Up:

Frankie's current obsession (since last fall) is dinosaurs.

Down:

I can't pronounce dinosaur names to save my life.
Some of them are about 25 syllables.

Up:

We're loving streaming Netflix from our Wii. It was fabulous while I was stuck on the couch.

Down:

Frankie loves the Land Before Time... he loves 4 more then 1.
He hasn't yet realized we can also stream 5-16.

Up:

I bought some adorable scrapbook paper last week,
and I think I've finally figured out how I'm going to tackle scrapbooking
without trying to make it all-inclusive

Down:

I need to clean and de-junk our extra room so that I can organize my stuff

Up:

Life is mostly good.
And the chocolate Cadbury Easter eggs have arrived in stores to prove it.

Love is spoken here

Frankie on the Blue Couch

A 3-part Retrospective

Part I:

The first time Jeremy held my hand, that was pretty much it.

We were sitting on the blue couch next to each other, talking to our friend Randy (who I don't think had any idea.) Jeremy started out tickling my arm. I'm a sucker for this, it's how my family used to help me relax and go to sleep when I was little. I knew he would hold my hand. I knew it would be instantly complicated. But for the first time I decided I didn't care, and I let him.

A few weeks later, we had figured out the complications. 

And we said I love you for the first time to each other on the big blue couch. October 16th, 2002.

8 years ago.

(Best. Bed hair. Ever.)

Part II:

6 months ago I lay on the big blue couch. We watched conference. I watched Jeremy take care of Frankie. I clung to my hospital mug (courtesy Frankie's birth) and drank a lot of water. I searched for some comfort in the talks. 

I braved Easter Dinner. Later that night Daddy came over, he and Jerm gave me a Priesthood blessing. I laid on the couch, not well enough to sit up. The blessing gave me an inkling. I wasn't told I would get better right away, I was told it was time to go listen to some doctors. And so go we did, the very next day.

We returned a week later, and the blue couch continued to be my home for a few weeks. Many a sleepless nights, frustrating days, and encouraging hours on the blue couch. I had a certain way I would set myself up in the corner. It was an accomplishment worth telling everyone when I started getting up by myself to go the bathroom and such after only a few days home.

I would come down at night when I couldn't sleep, lay on the couch, and turn on the BYU channel. I remember sometimes it helped, and sometimes it made me discouraged. I would ask myself "how am I going to be a good Mother if I can't even get up off this couch?"

Looking at it now, it wasn't that long at all. A blip on the radar, really.

But when you're in the middle, sometimes it feels endless.

(Re-enacting the big race while watching Cars)



Part III:

Today there was a moment, a short one, mind you, where we all snuggled on the blue couch together and watched conference. Jeremy was supposed to have a clinical today, but they sent him home.  So we were blessed with that moment.

I printed out coloring pages for me and Frankie. I colored on and off all day. Frankie colored for a few minutes.

This conference was beautiful, and for me, it made everything seem so simple.

My favorite line, and I'm afraid I didn't take proper notes so I'm not sure who the speaker was, but he said something like (speaking of Christ) "If He were next to you: would you think it, would you say it, would you do it?"

Would I?

I like to hope that if Jesus Christ visited our home, I could feel comfortable enough to invite him to sit on the big blue couch.

I could tell him that I kneeled next to it as a child to say family prayer, and that now my own child kneels there. That even though it's worn, tearing in places, the recliner is broken, it stains if you look at it wrong and it consumes toys and remotes with a voracious appetite... plus it's very, well  - blue - we love it. We love all of our modest furniture and our little home, but most of all we love the feeling that is here when we do the simple, right things.

That feeling, that spirit, that faith - is what keeps us going. And it's why I'm happy, always happy, if I just remember. I'm grateful for the blue couch, and the million other little things in my life, that help me remember.

How to save a life

Today the amazing Doctor Carlos declared my Lupus to be in full remission.

(!!!!!)

Have I told you about Carlos? (He insists we communicate on a first name basis.) His wife has Lupus, too. He has a real interest in and understanding of the disease. He's only been in town for a short time. It's such a blessing that he's been able to help me. Today he kept saying "I'm just so happy!"

The medication taperings begin.

I'm optimistic that I will still feel well, if not better, as the meds cut down. My hair is growing back, and soon my face won't be swollen.  I will be healthy and beautiful, or something like that. Heh.

I read through my blog archives a bit last night - I am so much more at peace now then I was a year ago. I have learned so much and grown so much this year. All said and done, I wouldn't change it. Today I feel excited for the future, not afraid.

It's a good feeling.

I lay myself down, to make it so

My favorite part of the day - on normal days like this where I hang out with Frankie all morning and work while he's napping (Should be working right now...) is laying by him for his nap. We read some stories and then snuggle a bit. Sometimes I fall asleep too. He loves for me to stay by him. I love that he wants me to. And lets be honest, I love that he still naps as well. I realize how lucky I am on this front.

Today I couldn't sleep, but I just sat staring at him. He's gorgeous. He makes my heart melt. He's going to be FOUR. I think of my nieces and nephews at four, and I realize that any amount of baby I'm still imagining in him is fully imagined. He's a little boy, a little man. He has a good heart and a sense of humor. He has attitude every now and then. But he is a great kid, through and through.

Last night at Target I was perusing the clearance racks in the baby section for any 4T size clothes to have on hand for the growing boy. It hit me that soon I will have no reason at all to be in the baby section, because I will be looking for size 4's and 5's.

And it's weird how little moments like that are what get me.

What's been most upsetting to me, if you haven't noticed, in the midst of all this sickness junk is the further delay, or possibility of no, future children for us. (We are still considering adoption, just trying to figure out if my illness and a few other things are going to be issues...) It's hard for me to wrap my mind around and make amends with. I look into 5 years away with no more babies and I can't see it.  I start having some sort of panicked identity crisis. What will I do while Frankie is in school? Commit myself to really painting and becoming a selling artist? Go back to school myself? See if they want me at the office?

The thing is I sincerely love being a mother. For me it is usually natural and joyful, even when it's hard I find satisfaction in it. (I do realize Frankie has been a pretty easy kid, maybe I wouldn't say that so readily otherwise.) It's not like it's only been my plan because it's what's expected - it's always been my plan because my heart longed for it.


Today it occured to me, while thinking of all of this, that half of my problem is how selfishly I'm looking at it. How much time I'm wasting being sad when I should just be enjoying my son and my husband and for heaven sakes - my good health right now.

Because in Fall of 2003 I couldn't straighten either arm. And they told me I had arthritis - and under St. George sun Mom and I both cried a few tears as we walked across the parking lot to go out to lunch. Because Mom said "after news like that, you should at least get lunch."

Because on Easter Sunday of this year I stared at the bowl of potatoes and knew I was too weak to lift them up and pass them. Nick did it for me. He had fear behind his eyes as he looked at me, and for some reason seeing that made me more frightened of being ill then I had ever been.

Because for months I couldn't get down on the floor to play with Frankie. He had to be reminded to hug me gently. And I couldn't pick him up when he fell down.

Today the arms are as straight as then can go. I can carry Frankie up the stairs. And I could throw that bowl of mashed potatoes. I should be doing more good in the world with all this strength, and I promise that I will. I hope you don't mind if I pine every now and then. I have this roaring baby hungry beast inside of me, but I'm trying to tame it. Right now my catch phrase "Until Tomorrow" is very appropriate. Because right now I'm not making any big plans. Just taking it a day at a time. A round of lab work at time. Swallowing one pill and vitamin at time.

No big plans for myself, anyway -

Jeremy however, has been accepted into the Paramedic Program. I really should mention that. I'm so proud of him. He's going to be brilliant. And I'm going to stay as healthy as I can for this next year so that I can support him through the 3 semesters which are supposed to be quite rigorous.

Hey wait, that sounds like a plan.

Until tomorrow, then. (Or, you know, soon.)

Tuning In

Prayers don't always get answered right away.

In fact, they usually don't.

I've learned a lot of patience, and put a lot of trust in God's will, about this subject.

Last night I felt well enough that I wanted to be the one to read Frankie his stories and tuck him in. I was excited about it. But Frankie not so much. He became literally angry when the idea was suggested. He only wanted Jeremy. He was still angry with me after we said family prayer and didn't even want to give me a hug goodnight.

I told Jeremy not to make a big deal out of it.

Frankie probably IS angry with me. For months our time together has been riddled with phrases like "Mommy can't do that right now." And the last few weeks I've been basically nonexistent. Mostly he has dealt with it really well, but it's got to be frustrating for him to have his life so upturned.

So as Jeremy put him to bed I sat on the couch and prayed that I would be able to start having Mothering experiences again.

This morning I was wide awake at 5:00 am. I still haven't really recovered from the hospital, when that was around the time of the bright and early blood draw. I tried to sleep, but when the garbage truck woke up Frankie at 6:30 I told Jeremy I felt well enough get up with him.

I helped him go potty. I went down the stairs by myself. I got him his drink of milk and bowl of cereal. Then we snuggled on the couch and watched his shows. Later, I picked out his clothes for the day.

A miracle. An instant answer.

This morning, I got to be a Mother.

Break on through to the other side

This afternoon I have felt well.

This afternoon I can look at the picture below and literally laugh out loud. I look like a grumpy old lady. I was just trying not to think about the fact that I was getting someone else's blood because it grossed me out. Still does actually - it's in there! But it helped me.

Lots of things helped me. People helped me the most. To know I was and am so loved made it all easier to bear. Thank of you for flowers, cards, messages, visits, and most of all prayers.

The Lord has helped me. I've given this all to him. What will be, will be. He is with me when it's at it's best, and when it's at it's worst.

As a side note, if you're sick for like 3 months, get help. Don't just sit on your couch and hope that you'll get better. Because that's what lands you in the E.R. I'll be kicking myself for it for a long time.

This kid is beautiful. He's a miracle, really. Because more biological children for us is kind of a question now. He's handled everything really well. We're so grateful to live close to family so that he could stay with his grandparents while we were at the hospital. He got to come visit us at the hospital and it would make me so happy. All the nurses loved him. I'm so excited to be able to take care of him again. The little things like making his lunch and giving him his bath.
Bad photo of some of my beautiful flowers. Frankie made me the card.


The carnage on my poor arms after we got home.

Let me tell you about Jeremy. About Jeremy rubbing my back and handing me my water when I was in excruciating pain. Sleeping on the hard couch next to me the whole week. Helping me shower and do my hair and get dressed. Monitoring my meds. Telling me I still look beautiful even though my stomach is swollen and my face is disfigured. Telling me it's going to be okay and that he has faith in my strength. I love my husband. His touch soothes me and his presence is sometimes all I need. He is a prince among men. I am so glad to have him.

This was the first time at the hospital that I wasn't connected to the IV, and all I wanted was to sit by Jeremy.

Since he's here - I'll make it. And it's as simple as that.

The good fight

A few weeks ago, my Dad made Frankie a "house" out a of a huge cardboard box. We managed to pack it up and bring it home, where I helped Frankie cover it with white paper and then he's been coating it with stickers. Literally, coating.

The morning I helped him cover the box in paper was a good morning.

You see, that's how I've been tracking things lately.

Because for the last few months I've been fighting the good fight.

In February I went to the doctor, where they temporarily increased my medications, and for about a week and a half I felt so well. When the stiffness and achiness started creeping back in I realized I was going to have to look at it different.

Instead of waiting around to feel better, I was going to have to try and live life anyway.

And so on a day like today, when I felt all right, (and the sunshine beckoned) I took Frankie to the park. Where he fell down, and I felt my face get hot and my eyes wet as I had to tell him to stand up and hold onto me, because I can't pick him up right now.

But he was okay. And so was I.

Plus we got ice cream afterwards.

When we get home, I'm exhausted. So I try to listen to my body, and I sleep while Frankie sleeps. And I think to myself "rebuild, rest, so we can take on tomorrow."

Because it shall surely come. And I want to look at it with a smile.

Postscript (2 parts):
-I've also been fighting various sorts of colds/flus/sinus infections. I think that's been a lot of the problem, and I have hope that when they clear up my immune system will stop going crazy and I'll feel better.
-I promise a decent post with pictures, soon, and to stop the whining.