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The story of Grif. {PART 5}

2012-01-27T05:00:00.004-10:00

We were in the room when she relinquished her rights to her son. Her small hospital room, where our lives were diverging, dissolving from what was before we entered. Neither of us would leave this room unshaken.

I played on the floor with the four children in the room; they were all Grif’s family now. M’s face caught my eye. I studied the face of my son’s mother. I watched her listen to each word that the Attorney spoke. The words were harsh. With diligence, she signed each line.

The baby started fussing in the bassinet. I reached in and picked him up. As I held my new son, Grif’s beautiful half-sister came and crawled onto my lap. She told me how beautiful her baby was, and how much she loved him. In an instant, all four children were surrounding our baby. Grif’s half-brother proudly declared the baby to be the most loved baby, because "we all get to share him". Oh the mouths of babes...

I noticed the Attorney started to gather up the paper work. It was time to go; I stood up and walked across the room to hand M our son. I started picking up all the toys that laid around the room, packing up the kids backpacks full of the gifts we had brought for them.

And then time stood still. I stood frozen, quietly observing from across the room. I could not move, or look away.

I watched M say goodbye to her son.

The woman that had stayed strong this entire time, had to break her own heart now. She turned her back to her children that were now dancing in circles with my other two in the middle of the room, and held that dear sweet baby tightly to her body. He melted into her. She whispered into his ear, and I saw her cry for the first time. She kissed him. Then, the strongest woman in the world, brushed the tears off her cheeks.

Then squared her shoulders, and was ready to go.

That small moment shook me.

It took all my strength to not burst into tears right then. The complexity was making it hard it breathe. My joy was her sorrow. My heart was being filled with the gaping holes that were now her own. Her shattered heart filled mine. We all walked through the hospital, and down the elevator. After many promises and all the love exchanged you could fathom, M got into her car, and we got into ours. The moment her car pulled away, I thought I would pass out. I doubled over in our car. I began sobbing. Uncontrollable, aching, large tears.

I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I was able to leave the hospital with this perfect little boy--- all because I was given a different life. Our lives were not parallel, but perpendicular enough to meet at this moment. And I felt like I was the one walking away, uninterrupted. I couldn't stop shaking. The magnitude of the pain she was going to face, became encompassing, and I didn't think I could do it.

I sobbed. For hours.

The story of Grif. {PART 4}

2012-01-26T05:00:00.000-10:00

Holding him was celestial.

I couldn’t stop staring at him. I couldn’t believe he was here. He made it.

Eventually, Chris took him, and I just sat and soaked up this new part of my family.

Finally, we all three laid him on the bed, and unwrapped him. We stood back as M carefully investigated each finger, each toe.

She was trying to memorize him now.

He was perfection.

This was her boy. Our boy.

The next couple days were fast and slow all at once. Each day, we only went to the hospital when we were called upon; understanding time was a delicate orchestration, as our hearts intricately danced with the reality that was gratitude, and impossible loss. For us, that meant giving M all the time in the world she wanted with him. He needed his M at this time, and that is a role in his life that I could never replace. She gave him life.

This was her time.

And I could not forget.

When Thursday came, we headed to the hospital to bring our boy home. The boys were bouncing off the wall in the waiting room, as we sat, and waited... An hour or two went by, when we finally got our call: She was ready.

The story of Grif. {PART 3}

2012-01-25T05:00:00.000-10:00

We got the phone call Tuesday morning that she had gone into labor. He was born six minutes after she was admitted to the hospital! He was born just twenty minutes earlier; we needed to head to the hospital to meet our son.

He was here.

The whole drive there seemed surreal I just kept looking all around, trying to take mental photographs of the whole drive. I wanted to remember everything about our experience. His home. I wanted to capture it all, and keep it. I felt the need to remember every detail, so that I could tell Grif all about it...

You would have never known she just had a baby. She was flawless. Beautiful. Captivating. Immediately after the baby was born, he was whisked away to the NICU, because he was having a hard time breathing. She never even got to see him. She wanted us to be there with her.

The wait began to meet our son...

Hours and hours passed, each promising to deliver the boy to the anxious room. While my heart was yearning to meet him, I couldn’t have asked for a better way to get to know M. We had about four hours to ourselves, just us and her. She was gracious, and I was enthralled with her.

The exact moment I saw his little bed round the corner into our room, will never fade in my memory: the feeling of complete rapture will never dull; the euphoria from that instant, will follow me through life. It is impossible to not become emotional when discussing the moment.

I felt my actual spirit leap.

My heart whispered to my soul: There he is.

And a peaceful confirmation that he was ours, wrapped me tight.

I knew him.

They wheeled him straight up to M’s bed. I was more than willing to wait my turn, and simply felt honored to be in the same room. M reached into the bed and pulled him to her chest. She kissed him firmly, and for an instant, seemed to inhale his presence.

And then she turned and placed him directly into my arms and said, “Meet your son.”

The story of Grif. {PART 2}

2012-01-23T07:09:00.004-10:00

14 hours after we were chosen to be his family, we were on an airplane, flying across the country to meet our son. And the calmness in my heart radiated through my bones, and steadied our stride. I sat in awe, just thinking of the opportunity I had been given to be in this family. This family. I was certain the whole world knew I was the luckiest girl in the world, at this very moment.

I was struck at how beautiful his birthmom was. She hardly looked pregnant sitting behind the table at the restaurant. Throughout our entire conversation, I inefficiently tried to grasp the minutes that were slipping by, desperately trying to record within my brain, everything about this woman. The mother of my child. She was going to change our entire life.

We talked for hours.

Strangers just trying to get to know each other.

With tears staining our expressions, she explained the compelling love she has for her son; the deep, absolute, complete love. More than anything in the world, she wanted him to have a brilliant life; one different than her own.

How incredible. Selfless. Heart-breaking.

As we stood up to leave, my mind was reeling, trying to think of how I could express what my heart wanted her to know. I couldn't think of the words that would adequately testify of how grateful we were, and how we could never thank her enough. No words could do us justice.

Then, she actually hugged me, and said, “Thank you.”

I froze, because, really, how do you respond to someone that you owe your life to, who is willing to do so much for their child---to change their whole existence? How do you thank someone, who just thanked you? If I was stumped for words before, her gracious heart held mine numb.

As we loaded our brood into the van, we received a text message from our social worker:

She loves you. She is in. 100% in. Now we wait for baby...

Driving away, from the parking lot, our lives would never be the same.

The story of Grif. {PART 1}

2012-01-12T20:14:00.005-10:00

Our children are precious miracles, that have triumphed great loss; the marvel that is, delicately permeating the broken that was, resolute to dissipate the defeat and ache that exists in the place it demands to conquer.

Grif is no different.

It has been so difficult for me to write out his story, because it intricately dances with some of the deepest sorrow that we experienced last year. There is so much anguish that surrounds his arrival, and yet, he is the joy that my heart has never known.

He is, and always will be, worth it.

We got the call while I was sitting in the Costco parking lot: there was a beautiful woman in Georgia. She was searching for the family of her unborn son; an insurmountable task, most certainly. And she was interested in our family.

I did not finish my shopping at Costco.

I headed straight home, put the kids down for a nap. A fury of phone calls proceeded, while Chris and I began a consuming discourse. I remember feeling panicked. How could this be?? This was all too fast. Too soon. Too inconceivable. Absurd. Too perfect, and simply crazy! Not possible.

Then we decided to pray: Is this our baby?

I immediately was overcome with absolute, and complete peace; a blanket of certainty. Not a single fiber was overcome with the impossible of the situation we were walking into. All the apprehension, uncertainty...gone.

He was our boy.

Adoption Bloggers Interview Project

2011-11-17T05:57:00.006-10:00

November is National Adoption Month. But, you knew that right?? I mean, from all my blogging this month, it should have been clear...

Moving on.

Welcome to the Adoption Bloggers Interview Project!

HOW DOES IT WORK?

The Interview Project is open to any blogger

-who writes at least occasionally about adoption

-is interested in meeting a fellow writer with different views and experiences

-wants to welcome someone into their own online space.

Bloggers were paired off at random.

We got to know each other through our blogs and interviewed each other by email.

TODAY everyone will post the interviews on their blogs.

SEE THE 2011 INTERVIEW PAIRS HERE.

I had the chance to interview Elena Duncan from "Good News Adoption"

She has become an amazing adoption advocate in her community, and through her blog. They adopted their gorgeous baby girl Julia two years ago (who just so happens to be part Cherokee like our little G-man). I absolutely loved reading the story of how their baby girl became a part of their life.

So lovely.

AND, they are hoping to adopt again!! I feel giddy, anxious, and sincerely happy when families are hoping to adopt. It's a brutally-fantastic journey, that not everyone experiences. I wish them the best of luck!!

I'm so glad I got to peak into the life of a beautiful family.

What did your friends/ family initially think about your choice to adopt?

A week after first meeting with our adoption counselor we invited our families out to dinner and we gave everyone a letter to read that announced that we were hoping to adopt and invited each family member to participate in making a 100 Good Wishes Quilt for our baby. Every one was happy and some tears were shed. We answered a few questions about openness which helped to ease some pre-existing notions about adoption. Having experienced adoption through our bringing Julia into our family they now have an even greater understanding of it. And offer even greater support.

Has anyone ever said anything hurtful to you about your family? How doyou respond to the prodding, negative, or ignorant questions?

I haven't ever had anyone say anything negative specifically about our family but, I have heard people say that they could never adopt. That statement makes me sad. It seems that they feel somehow adoption is less than desirable. I have one word for those folks, WRONG! Most people I mention adoption to our very supportive of it and treat us no differently than other families.

Your daughter is beautiful! Do people often assume she is your biological daughter, or do people assume she adopted?

Thank you! We think she is gorgeous too! People who don't know us do assume she is our biological daughter. For some silly reason, it was important to me that she look like us. I feel like Heavenly Father knows that and indulged us by blessing us with Julia.

Since your daughter is Native American, did you have any problems with ICWA? Did Indian courts get involved?

We were fortunate to prove to the Cherokee Tribe that Michael was a descendant of an ancestor who was biologically Cherokee and was also adopted by a Cherokee. There was an ICWA court hearing that our counselor attended about a month after Julia was born where the information was presented and the Cherokee Tribe allowed the adoption to continue.

How open is your adoption with your daughter's birth parents/family?

We email our birth mom once a month and include pictures from the previous month. Our birth mom responds every few months. We know she is grateful for the pictures and continues to want them, it is just hard for her to write back every month. She shares the emails and pictures with members of her family. We want Julia to meet her birth mom when both of them feel ready for that. We were able to meet a few members of Kate's family when Julia was born and treasure those memories. We have a great amount of respect and love for her and her family. We feel as if our family has grown.

Do you have a relationship with your daughter's birth father?

We do not have a relationship with Julia's birth father. The choice to place Julia for adoption was very difficult for him and it is easier for him not to communicate with us.

Congratulations on being approved to adopt again!! How are you proactive about your adoption search? Do you use pass along cards,other websites to get more exposure, etc?

We are filled with excitement about adopting again. We have a profile on our agency website, on ParentProfiles.com, and on hopingtoadopt.org. We also have a website: www.michaelandelena.com. We are interested in doing pass along cards but, we haven't gotten around to doing that yet. Otherwise, I feel like advocating for adoption in general helps more couples be able to adopt because more birth moms find out about the option of adoption. I was able to see a Birth Mother Panel at our last Southeast FSA Conference. Each birth mom expressed that adoption was not very much communicated as an option to them. Since then it has been very important to me to advocate for it as much as I can.

Is there anything you would have changed about your adoption plan (placement, openness, meetings, etc)?

Roughly two weeks after Julia was born our birth mom went to Court to sign for Julia's Adoption in front of a judge. We were supposed to meet her and her counselor right after so Kate could give us some things she had for Julia. That same morning we had to pack up after staying in our vacation rental and drive over an hour to meet her. We were late and she had scheduled her Doctor appointment to follow her court appointment and couldn't wait for us to arrive. I wish that we had made that. I could have given her one last hug.

What is the best thing about adoption?

The best thing about adoption is that it makes beauty of ashes. It gives the adoptive couple the opportunity to parent, it gives the birth mother the opportunity to pursue her worthy goals, and most importantly it gives adoptees the opportunity to have a stable, strong environment to grow up and flourish in.

What is the best thing about being a Mother to an adopted child?

I have to be honest the best thing to me about being a Mother to an adopted child is that I didn't have to go through a physical pregnancy ;) Otherwise, being a mother to an adopted child is not much different than mothering a biological child.

How and when will you tell Julia that she is adopted?

We tell Julia often that we adopted her. We tell her about her birth family, we show her pictures and tell her the story of her birth. We pray for her birth family each night with her and express our love for them. I am working on making a Picaboo book that details her whole story for her. It is so essential that adopted children know Chapter One of their life story. It is a gift to them not to have to wonder or be shocked to discover things they didn't know about themselves.

Something about a perfect life.

2011-10-09T14:56:00.008-10:00

While well-meaning, the phrases, "everything will work out just the way it's supposed to" or "everything always happens for a reason", makes me want to punch things.

Because I don't believe that's true.

And here is why.

I am a Latter-Day Saint. I am Christian. I believe in Jesus Christ. I believe He is my Savior, and Redeemer. I also believe in a divine Heavenly Father. I believe he has to power to move mountains, part rivers, and create human life. He loves me.

I believe that I lived in Heaven before I has born. I also believe there was a War in Heaven among the spirit children of our Heavenly Father.

LDS.org has this to say about it:

...The issues involved such things as agency, how to gain salvation, and who should be the Redeemer. The war broke out because one-third of the spirits refused to accept the appointment of Jesus Christ as the Savior...It was evident that if given agency, some persons would fall short of complete salvation; Lucifer and his followers wanted salvation to come automatically to all who passed through mortality, without regard to individual preference, agency, or voluntary dedication (see Isa. 14:12–20; Luke 10:18; Rev. 12:4–13; D&C 29:36–38; Moses 4:1–4)....

The warfare is continued in mortality in the conflict between right and wrong. The same contestants are doing the battle.

Our mortal life is our test in the plan of salvation! OUR test. We were granted free agency. WE GET TO MAKE CHOICES. If we make good choices, we come across opportunities to participate in miracles. The opposite also exists. Humans make bad choices that result in heart break, aches, and pain.

AND, we get to live on this planet with people, who are also trying to fight this good fight; sometimes winning, conquering-- sometimes plummeting, destructing. This is when things do not work out "exactly how they are supposed to".

I believe that my Heavenly Father can divinely intervene in my life, and I have experiences abound to testify of this. I know that miracles exist. But I DO NOT think that life is always going to "work out just perfect". It's not. I know it's not, because I believe in Christ. I believe that he was the one that won the War in Heaven. Had Lucifer won said war, then "everything would happen for a reason".

When life beats our weathered hearts, I thank my Savior, and my own personal Heavenly Father for not abandoning me. The miracle is not that things will always work out perfectly, the miracle is that He will weather the storm with me and provide happiness in spite of the shrapnel of others grievous mistakes. Life is perfect, because we survive bad choices.

Because who knew? Humans aren't perfect, and we don't always get it right.

Baby boy.

2011-10-07T12:28:00.002-10:00

My baby boy turned three months old.

Yet, it seems so much longer; for I have loved him my whole life. My heart always knew that he would be mine some day, we just had to find each other.

And here he is.

I'm still trying to find words to tell our experience in getting him here.

It looks like it's going to take a while.

He is our boy, and we wouldn't have it any other way.

Saying no.

2011-09-16T10:58:00.003-10:00

**originally written June 5
HERE
Ironically enough, this applies to life---once again.**

No is a harsh word.

As I was curled up in a ball, tears pooling onto Chris' shirt, I almost couldn't breath. As I wept, I declared, "The only thing I have ever wanted was to be a mother; to have more children. This is all I've ever wanted. I don't want to say no anymore..."

It felt suffocating.

We have been on a strict voyage to find the babies that are promised for our family alone. I always assumed that it would be those babies alone, that would make it down the pathway leading into our humble abode, guarded by my ever tender heart. I forgot to conceive that Heavenly Father is the master architect of my bizarre, blessed world.

Stretch and molding is most certainly uncomfortable.

My body is best at following the Lords agenda of "Teach Taylor". Where it has failed me in the past, I am convinced it is His greatest tool in chipping away at me, making me the master piece that He so desires. As I fight, and pull, trying to simply "BE", my mind tries to battle, declaring what would be "better". Somehow, "better" usually ends up being synonymous with "easier"; while the Heavens seem to think "better" means a completely different direction.

So, commence the stretching and molding.

Only once I think, "Oh ya. I'm not the Master in command here," am I able to really and truly become the image of perfection, the Lord so badly is striving to have me become; yet, here I am, only a fraction of what I hope to some day amount to.

So, as I am filled with hope, wonderment, joy! "This could be it! I want this to be it!"Heavenly Father continues to intervene, and kindly, only sometimes abruptly, directs me down a different path. While my hope is sometimes dissected, with shreds being left at the fork in the road, I try to always bring some along with me on the journey. What is left, is shaped, stretched, altered.

Each loss, has been just that: a loss. I have mourned accordingly.

Then brushed my hands off, and moved, sometimes staggering injured, sometimes leaping enthusiastically, forward.

Upward an onward.

At this point in the game, I feel like I am bases loaded, already past three strikes, but have been given an extra chance because, hey, I'm the new kid. So, I stand tall, keeping my eye on the ball. As I stretch my arms for the big swing, with all of my heart and soul absorbed by the bat, I swing.

I miss.

I look around to see if anyone noticed, hoping, praying, that I have just one more chance. Because, gosh, I know I can hit the ball. I've done it before. I've just been on a bad run lately, is all. And while I stand here, looking foolish to the on-lookers, this situation has felt like sitting in a bath full of ice cubes. I can not ignore the pain.

But then why say no? Why not just say yes?

Ha. Oh yes. Exactly.

Why not just hit the damn ball? Why not make it a home run?

I simply can.not.get.the.two.to.collide.

As I battle with what I really want, and what the Lord really wants for me. right. now. my head spins. My heart hurts. My hands shake. My soul shudders.

I wonder if I will ever get the chance to bat again. I wonder if I will be kicked out of the game. I want this. This is what I want. This is perfect. Ideal, even! I want this. This is what I want.

And then the ever-so-present whisper that seems like a booming voice within my head, continues to reassure me: This is not my plan. Wait for it. Wait for it...

That is when I curl up into a ball, sobbing into my best friends shoulder. Because, while being told no is hard, accepting no, is a whole new ball game.

After the shuddering subsides I can breath.

I'm going to hit a home run.

The start.

2011-07-24T12:11:00.003-10:00

Well, it's Sunday night.

I'm sitting at my sister's house, laying on her couch. She is making dinner with her husband, and her sons are running in and out of the room, laughing and playing. I have almost been at her house for a month...

My son is laying next to me.

My son.

His name is Grif.

He is really amazing.

I can't wait to tell you about him.

It's hard to figure out where our story begins. It intertwines so much with our other story. Which would make sense, because this is our family. Let me try to rewind...

You know how we got to adoption. We wrote all about on our adoption blog. One night, I woke up in the middle of the night. I had a dream so vivid, it was hard to distinguish if it actually had really happened or not. I had a smile across my face, and a content feeling of peace.

I knew I needed to remember it.

I woke up Chris and told him, "We are going to have two brown baby boys."

Then, went right back to sleep.

The months went by. We finally finished all our paper work, appointments, interviews, etc. You can specify what you are looking for in an adoption situation. We wanted the Lord to direct the children that are meant for our family; not us. So, the only specifications we listed were for the child to be healthy---that alone was a hard choice to make. We had faith that everything else would be orchestrated just perfectly, and left the "picking and choosing" up to the Lord. Maybe we would get a daughter? Maybe we would get a curly haired red head? Maybe the baby would be brand new, or maybe it would be a year old?

We were approved on January 31st.

We had our crib set up, and ready to go. Each morning we would ask each other each day, if today would be the day that we would find our baby. As the days wore on, the novelty started to wear off, and my heart started breaking. I knew with a true certainty, that there were still children missing from our family. We needed to find them.

And I was terrified I would miss them.

Some days it felt overwhelming. I felt like I was paddling frantically, and yet my head was just barely keeping above water.

For My Natalie

2011-06-17T16:14:00.006-10:00

There was this boy.

Gavin.

He was a blonde boy, with a bronzed body. I know, because he never wore a shirt. But, he did have some well worn overalls. Oh, and stunning smile! He was handsome. Beautiful. One time, Chris had to help him sell his truck. Ya know, because he decided he wanted to take a vow of silence for a week. Just for fun.

But he had to sell his truck.

But he couldn't speak.

Just because.

So Chris had to translate for him...

None of which made much sense, because he would scribble on a piece of paper, and then have Chris read it to the guy who was trying to buy the car. The guy could have just read the paper, but Gavin wanted Chris to read it. Chris laughed the whole entire time, but Gavin was taking his silence very seriously. Normal. Right?

Or his birthday party. He decided he wanted to have a jousting tournament. On the beach! So, he gathered up these random metal plates, that he lined up on the beach for the run way. And bikes. And the most un-protecting-protection-gear....made out of buckets, and random junk he found. And he did it! He really did! People got on those ridiculous bikes, wore the "gear" (which I'm sure caused more harm then not), and actually rode towards eachother, holding long "jousting sticks" (broom sticks and pillows I think?), eventually ending in a pile of metal, plastic, and blood. Again and again. There was eyons of people present! It was a riot.

Oy.

I remember when he died.

He was my sister-friend's dear brother. I was 9 + forever months pregnant. I remember picking up the children to go swimming. Feeling numb. Incapable. I hugged her, kissed her mother. They are like family, ya know? The week was a blur.

And then my water broke. As I sat in the hospital, I swore I could make it to funeral. Sure, I had just had a baby five hour earlier, but I could do it. It wouldn't be a big deal. As I swung my feet off the side of my bed to stand up, I realized I wasn't going anywhere. I kissed my husband goodbye, and sat holding my brand new baby for hours. Just the two of us.

Hours later, my dear, sweet husband was cuddled into my body. This time, he was sobbing. Overwhelmed. His first born son was born hours earlier, yet he had just come from our dear friends funeral. It was the Plan of Salvation! All of it. In a matter of hours.

Gavin Link left the Earth four years ago today.

Just days before J Taylor Gavin entered.

And then there was this baby.

I remember the first time I held Baby Gavin Norton. I couldn't stop staring at him. He was beautiful!! Oh gosh, the kid was beautiful. I couldn't stop saying it either. He was balm to my aching heart; wanting a precious new born of my own. I was recovering from my ectopic pregnancy. Holding him was as if the child was mending back my heart. I felt calm.

I knew everything would be ok.

I will always remember exactly where I was the moment I found out he was gone.

I held the phone to my ear, defying to believe what I had just heard. I dropped the phone. I was standing at the top of my stairs. I fell to my knees. Sobbing. Shaking. I immediately felt light headed and nauseous. I felt like I was going to throw up. I couldn't breath. It shook me to my core. I had only just held him! This was all wrong.

I bought the first ticket I could to Hawaii, and made one of the hardest trips I have ever made. Those two weeks, felt like I was walking in some sort of daze. I wanted to rip opens my Natalie's heart, and glue it all back together. But I could do nothing. I felt so helpless. I could only "BE" with them. Every night, I sat in bed, with her middle son, who was just trying to cope, sound asleep on my lap. I would comb my fingers through his hair, with tears silently streaming down my face, as my own Hugh lay sound asleep next to me. I would go to bed exhausted, and wake up exhausted. I couldn't comprehend her pain. My heart was heavy. I wanted to be home with my husband.

Days and months passed, and before long I was due with a little babe of my own; he was due the same day Gavin left for Heaven. We celebrated together! Every day, without fail, she checked in on me. She might have been an Ocean away, but I knew her heart was with mine. Before too long, Natalie was at my door. I was on bed rest, and my boys were shipped off to San Diego. I remember the night Richie and Natalie dragged us to the movie theatre. I'm sure I hadn't showered in 5 days or longer, because standing up that long would certainly cause me to pass out. I was averaging 18-20 "episodes with the ivory bowl" a day at this point, but my dear friends brought me cheer! They brought me their love. They just wanted to "BE".

I am forever grateful.

And today, I got a package:

When I opened the package, I actually gasped. Baby clothes. A box full, full, full of baby clothes. Baby boy clothes. I immediately started sobbing. My own two little boys were sitting on the bed with me. I quickly grabbed them, and just held them. Kissing them. Thanking them again and again for being in my family. For being here with me. Right now.

As I pulled out each item, I could hear my heart beating louder. He never wore them. Woven into each article of clothing, instead of holes or stains, there were hopes and dreams. I could almost feel the tangible love, the heart, the ache. Most things still had tags on them. I thought my heart might explode. These were meant for him. I let my fingers run over each item, pulling them into my arms, holding them tightly.

Oh, sweet baby Gavin.

I couldn't help but groan.

The pain was physical. Emotional. Spiritual.

My heart ached.

And yet here we are.

Each piece of clothing makes the perfect story. It's about Gavin's and babies. Family and dear friends. Love and deep, suffocating loss. The empty arms, the quite house, the broken heart.

New dreams.

I start weeping again, but this time it's with a grateful heart. A heart too full to speak. None of us are anywhere we thought we would be, when we met all those years ago. Young, wide-eyed and unshaken. We have been carved, chipped, and smoothed over. It's not been an easy task. I have even fought here and there, to hold on to what I believe is most dear to me. As I have learned to let go, to let the Lord mold me into the better version of myself, I'm honored to be found among friends.

I am grateful to have a kindred spirit who has packed up her dreams, willing to let Heavenly Father mold her.

And sent me a message to my heart with a package.

It was the day the world went wrong

I screamed til my voice was gone

And watched through the tears as everything

came crashing down

Slowly panic turns to pain

As we awake to what remains

and sift through the ashes that are left

behind

But buried deep beneath

All our broken dreams

we have this hope:

Out of these ashes... beauty will rise

and we will dance among the ruins

We will see Him with our own eyes

Out of these ashes... beauty will rise

For we know, joy is coming in the morning...

in the morning, beauty will rise

So take another breath for now,

and let the tears come washing down,

and if you can't believe I will believe

for you.

Cuz I have seen

the signs of spring!

Just watch and see:

Out of these ashes... beauty will rise

and we will dance among the ruins

We will see Him with our own eyes

Out of these ashes... beauty will rise

For we know, joy is coming in the morning...

in the morning...

I can hear it in the distance

and it's not too far away.

You gave me a piece of your heart today. I know it.

And I will hold onto the clothes until it's your turn.

Learning.

2011-05-17T18:19:00.000-10:00

Phone pic 2/27/10

phone pic 3/17/10

**Originally written 2/2/11**

I love when J wakes up in the morning. He always runs to the couch, looks out the window, and yells, "THE SUN IS AWAKE! It's a brand new day!" without fail.

That kid teaches me so much.

Unfortunately, sometimes it's at his own expense.

I was hurrying around this morning, trying to head off to Disneyland. I just finished getting Hugh all dressed (and by getting Hugh dressed, I mean sitting next to him as he shouts, "NO! I DO IT." and takes a hundred hours to get his shirt situated just-so), and started to clean up from breakfast. J comes running in yelling, "I NEED TO GO POTTY," all frantic like.

"Then go." was the only obvious response to a child that has been doing so for two years all on his own. For some reason, this morning he forgot that simple fact, and just could not handle the task at hand.

"NOOOOOOOOO. I can't! I need YOU to do it."

"I can't go to bathroom for you. That's absurd."

"Mommmmmmmmmm I need you to heeeeeelp me!"

"No way man. You're a big boy."

"No I'm not! I don't want to be a man (think: Peter Pan. his current obsession)."

"Too bad."

"HEEEEELP MEEEEE."

"No."

And then the tantrum of the century occurred. J was weeping and wailing about how he needed help, and for no other reason, then I simply knew he could do it on his own (and I was scrubbing off some dishes that could have been done any other time of the day), I didn't want to.

Good greif, right?

I agree.

But at the time, the annoying factor was off the charts. I told him he wasn't allowed to cry in my kitchen, and I moved him into the front room to oblige my request. So of course, because he is my son, he defiantly, and oh-so-very deliberately, reached his leg over the threshold of living room-kitchen area, and gave me "the stare down" to prove that my blood runs in his (oh! the stubborness), accompanied by the on going weeping and wailing.

I was not impressed.

So I moved his body into his room and told him to cry into his pillow, because no one wanted to hear it. He was granted freedom, upon choosing to act like a human, not an enraged beast.

He didn't think that was fair.

The weeping and wailing continued.

And then I became the beast-child, only when it happens with "the mother", it's slightly less charming. The power struggle continued back and forth; in and out of his room, declaring he needed to stop crying, stop yelling, stop pounding on the door, or kicking and screaming. Each time, deliberately reminding myself to not slam the door on my way out, like the toddler in the situation.

I can only assume how much my neighbors must have enjoyed hearing J max out his tantrum powers with full force. At this point I was ready to pack him up and drop him off across the border. Honestly, I was fuming. As I marched down the hallway, I think my blood even began to boil. When I opened the door, and saw him standing there with his pants now soaking wet, sobbing, I stopped in my tracks.

it came over me like a wave.

"...suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not..."

Instead of shipping him off to Africa, I picked up the crying little boy, and just held him---nasty pants and all.

He squeezed me tight and said, "I'm so sorry Mama... I'm having a hard time!"

And all I could think was, "You have no idea, little man."

As I held him, I began to rock him in my arms. I told him how much I loved him. I started listing off all the different reasons why I thought he was so perfect.

His tear stained face looked up at me with those eyes and said, "And Mom you are the most perfect Mom I have ever had!" And the smile on his face was bigger than ever. All was better in the world. All was forgiven. All was right.

He has no idea.

That kid teaches me so much.

Unfortunately, sometimes it's at his own expense.

Remember.

2011-05-15T17:06:00.001-10:00

**POST ORIGINALLY WRITTEN 1/13/11**

Chris and I have managed to secure our spot as the inactive-active family in the ward. We go to church every Sunday! Unfortunately, we only end up at our own ward a quarter of the time. I figure the benefits of having VIP Visiting Teachers, and special "attention" (ya know, the "projects" always get a little extra TLC) is just too easy to pass up.

In all reality, we are gone so much, because we have an alternative lifestyle that we live in San Diego every once in a while. Chris grew up down there, and we are tempted far too often with the loves-of-our-lives that still reside in SD County.

So we are gone a lot.

But I'm getting off track.

Our ward is wonderful. Awesome. I love it. VERY MUCH. We are so lucky to live so close to so many inspiring, outgoing, lovely people. When I think of moving away (say what?) my heart only feels heavy.

Ok, I'm getting side tracked again.

One Sunday, I walked into Relief Society. My good friend Ginger was teaching the lesson and handed me a slip of paper, while asking if I would mind reading a quote. Without thinking twice I said, "Of course!" then I proceeded to my seat. I decided to take a look-see at the slip; my heart did that heavy-beating-I'm-sure-everyone-can-hear-because-it's-pounding-so-hard type of beating.

And then I started shaking. URGH! I do this super annoying thing when I'm nervous where I SHAKE. SHAKE!! Come on!! As if anything more deflating could happen to someones self respect. Gosh, I hate it. So there I was shaking like I had just stuck my finger in light socket. I knew that I wouldn't be able to read the words on the paper. It was going to be ugly.

Lo and behold my time came.

And I couldn't open my mouth. The words wouldn't come. The sweet lady sitting next to me must have figured I didn't know how to read, because she kindly whispered, "I can do it??" Somehow my brain tapped into my voice box and I started to read:

"Find the compensatory blessings in your life when, in the wisdom of the Lord, He deprives you of something you very much want. To the sightless or hearing impaired, He sharpens the other senses. To the ill, He gives patience, understanding, and increased appreciation for others' kindness. With the loss of a dear one, He deepens the bonds of love, enriches memories, and kindles hope in a future reunion. You will discover compensatory blessings when you willingly accept the will of the Lord and exercise faith in Him."

-Elder Richard G. Scott

"Finding Joy in Life"

I'm pretty sure I was the only one that heard any of it, because not only was I shaking like a maraca by this point, I was snorting, sobbing and just gross.

It was only a matter of hours before, that I was driving back with the fam from San Diego, racing to make it to church on time because we hadn't been to our own ward since before Christmas. I had declared that this was our year;something good better happen! Because 2010 was lousy. It really kicked me when I was down. I was whining about this and that, crying here and there, and just feeling pathetic. There was a moment of silence in the car, after the boys passed out, and we were in between Orange County and SD. Ya know? The ugly military base part. I decided to take my grief to the Lord. I was sick of my bad attitude, and felt it was permeating into my life. It was getting old.

I begged for the Lord to show me the good part. The happy.

My happy!

The answer came instantly. I wanted to crawl under a rock. A little chastisement was about.

2010 was the year the Lord took me in his arms. And carried me.

I felt him.

I knew him.

I was blessed beyond anything comparable. My relationship with my Savior is the greatest gift. What else more could I have ever asked for? While I ached to the very core of my soul during the holidays, because the gift I wanted most was not going to be wrapped up under the tree this year, or ever, I should have been shouting from the roof tops that I was the luckiest girl of all.

I know my Savior lives.

And loves me, too.

----

HAPPY BIRTHDAY OL' FRIEND.

Hope you feel blessed today.

He loves you.

Hugh on babies.

2011-05-13T07:01:00.006-10:00

My home girl did her first vlog the other day.

Hugh wanted to pipe in.

We hope to cheer up our MJ girl who is in the hospital:

I usually look this white trash after some good yoga love.

You're welcome.

Oh, and obviously the boys are having a love-hate relationship with the word "poop".

I hate it.

They love it.

As soon as I pushed stop, Hugh started yelling,

"I WANT TO SAY BYE. I WANT TO SAY BYYYYYYYYYYYE!"

So. Here ya go.

Bye.

Times a million.

Again.

Easter to me.

2011-04-23T05:07:00.001-10:00

Our dear MJ

2011-04-21T21:43:00.004-10:00

Oh "BABY".......... just in case you care.

by MJ on Thursday, April 21, 2011 at 11:49pm

So as many of you know these last few months have been....uhhh challenging to say the least. In the beginning of February I found out that I was going to be a mom and expected my life to change forever. As exciting as a moment most would think that would be, it was just about the opposite. With it soon becoming a very, very public affair the situation went from stressful to quite disastrous in a matter of no time. For the most part *B and I have been pretty private about our personal business and have not made a public statement. Those close to us are aware of the situation, as aware as they can be and have respected our decision to keep it that way. *B has been very focused on his future as well as I have, and has made it very clear that what is done with this child is up to me and he will support me.

Over the last few months I have had my eyes opened up to more then I can imagine. I have been forced, in a way to "grow up" and start making some life changing decisions. I decided that I would move home so that I could be close to my family and have their assistance whenever possible and or needed. They have been so incredibly supportive and I couldn’t ask for a more loving family. Moving home as been a blessing in disguise and I’m glad I made the decision to be "banished" from Provo. (Stupid frathouse sports.com)

The first few weeks of my pregnancy were really just getting use to the fact that I was all over the internet and actually pregnant, you know....the initial shock of everything. I was sad that most of you couldn’t hear it from my mouth and that you found out via Google or from someone else and for that I would like to apologies. I value the relationships I have with all of you and it hurt me that something so private and personal became "this week’s story"..... Anyways after the shock factor went away and it started to settle I knew that I had some challenging and curtail months ahead and I wanted to be prepared. I came to a lot of you on your opinions of raising a child and adoption and I started looking into LDS family social services (an adoption agency). I read articles, books, watched videos, read blogs, facebooks, had many conversations with many people, family, friends, the lady at the nail place.... and most importantly went to my Heavenly Father. I knew that I couldn’t get through the 9 months without making my decisions early on and being completely sure. I knew that either way I wanted to be prepared and that if I was going to be mommy that I would be the best damn mom this kid could ever have and if I was going to give him to another family that I was absolutely 100% sure that they were the right family. I started looking into families quite early and even though I was set on keeping this baby I wasn’t going to cancel out adoption. I met with my bishop every week sometimes more than once, talked to my parents all the time, and prayed to know what to do harder then I have ever prayed for anything in my entire life.

When I first saw Taylor and Chris's picture with their little boys Hue and J, I about died. If ever you have looked at a picture and said, "wait I know them" then you'll know exactly what I’m talking about when I said "how do I know them?!" haha Truth is, I hadn’t known them, at least to my knowledge. AND little did I know that I would soon get to know them a little too well! Taylor and Chris put up a blog type page on LDSFS and they had a link to their blog which I immediately stalked. I started reading about their family and the boys and blah blah blah. I wrote Taylor an email and to my surprise she responded so quickly and inattentively. After e-mailing her back and forth a few times and convincing her I was in fact REAL I started to notice how comfortable and easy it was to talk to her. It felt as if I were talking to a friend I hadn’t talked to in a few years and we were just catching up. I told Taylor that I hadn’t made my decision as to what I was going to do yet but I wanted to be prepared either way. If she had responded any other way then the way she did she probably wouldn’t exist in my life right now ha-ha she told me that her and Chris started the adoption to not only expand their family but to be a support and an outlet for girls and boys who needed to talk and vent about just about anything. I knew right then and there that she meant what she said and that even if I didn’t end up giving her my baby that she would still be a part of my life. I started to open up more and more and we soon became friends on face book! hahaha jk, well we did but we ended up establishing an ETERNAL relationship. (Ya Taylor, I said it, prepare yourself for that one.) Haha If you haven’t guessed by now, Chris and Taylor Pierce are my ADOPTION FAMILY!! YAYAYYAYAAYAYAAYA! Haha but really, after much prayer and thought I finally felt at piece with my decision and KNEW in my heart that it was the better decision for everyone involved.

Everyone keeps asking me how I knew, or how I finally made the decision of adoption.... When I really think about it I don’t have just one or two reasons I have 2486745867482765245 reasons. Most importantly I wanted my baby to have a father and with *B being away and focused on basketball and his future I knew that I wasn’t going to get what I wanted. I knew that when my baby got sick he wasn’t going to be able to have a blessing right away, or be protected by the priesthood every night he went to sleep or be baptized by dad, or pass the sacrament with dad, or leave on a mission with dad as an example. I knew that as good a person *B may be that he would never be that to our child. I knew that financially I would be able to find ways to provide and make sure this baby was fed and clothed but I wouldn’t be able to do it alone, or be with him as much as I wanted to working 2 jobs to make that possible. I knew that if I wanted to finish school and finish the Police Academy that I couldn’t do that with a baby and again ALONE and BY MYSELF. I finally realized that if I loved this baby as much as I kept saying I did, that I would give him to a family that could provide all those things and MORE. After meeting Chris, Taylor and the boys I knew INSTANTLY that they were going to be the family once I made my decision. I absolutely fell in love with their humor, testimonies, care free attitudes, loving nature and most importantly as parents. They have two of the happiest baby boys I have ever come across. I love Hue and J as if they were related to me, and in a sense they soon will be. I couldn’t be more sure that they will be the best big brothers and that Chris and Taylor will be the best parents.

One of my dearest and closest friends and I were having a discussion the other day about my decision and she asked me, "J, you of all people.....how are you going to be able to get through this? How are you going to be able to hand over this baby and not want to kill yourself?" I laughed and said "I’m sure I will want to kill myself after labor" but I took the opportunity to bare my testimony to her. I explained to her that I had a confirmation from my Heavenly Father that I knew what I was doing was the best and right choice for me. I knew that my Heavenly Father was so aware of my situation and was not going to leave me in my time I need. I know that as hard as it may be, and as hard as it will be that after everything is all said and done that this child and I will both be blessed and better off. Most importantly I know that my Heavenly Father does not give me trials that I cannot overcome. He would never throw anything my direction that he knew I couldn’t catch. I knew that he had sent his son Jesus Christ before me to suffer my sins so that I wouldn’t have to. That Jesus Christ, if nobody else understands the pain and sorrow I am and will feel during all of this. I know that because of my faith and because of my decision that I will be able to be blessed and move on with my life, find my eternal companion and have my own eternal family. I know that Heavenly Father loves this little boy inside my so much that he is willing to take matters into his own hands and make sure that he is placed where he belongs. There is not a doubt in my mind that Chris and Taylor just showed up out of nowhere. I know it is because Heavenly Father has a plan for them and this baby just like he has a plan for you and I.

I wasn’t sure if at that moment I was supposed to say "in the name of Jesus Christ AMEN!" or not so I didn’t....that probably would have been awkward considering she isn’t a member but after I stopped rambling for a min she just looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, "good for you."

The last few months have been crazy and although there are many more, I look forward to watching this child grow and learn and laugh and play and to see how my own life turns out. I’m grateful for the relationships I have made over the years with many of you and even the more recent ones. You have all had an impact on my life and been an example to me in many ways. I hope this clears up some of the questions you have. Thank you for the support and the love and friendship you have given me over the years and especially recently. I love you all!

--MJ !!!!!!!!!!!!!

2 Nephi 31;20

.HOPE.

Waimea.

2011-04-15T22:16:00.003-10:00

.Pic by Norto.

Our last day in Hawaii.

Bribery, peer pressure, and sibling rivalry.

2011-03-31T19:23:00.006-10:00

We are alive.

We made it home from Georgia.

Ah, so much to write!!

My beautiful, fabulous, wonderful, beautiful, perfect, beautiful niece was a delight. I was on night duty---uh, when she wasn't in the hospital.

Ok, wait. I'm writing the wrong post.

Insomnia.

2011-03-16T01:00:00.001-10:00

Why I feel the need to blog, instead of sleeping is beyond me.

I'm getting on a plane to visit my sister and her family in five hours.

I watched a home video of a son coming home from his two year mission, and his family greeting him at the airport; their first meeting in years.

He instantly found his mother out of the crowd. As she reached for him, I imagined her heart thinking, "Oh! There you are. I missed you." She simply held onto her son, and didn't let go.

She just held him.

The Father was next. He hugged him tightly, then pulled back to examine his son. The look they exchanged pierced my heart. It was a radiating look of approval, pride, and respect. All that time spent a part, was all worth it for that moment.

And I thought of heaven.

It will be just like that.

Meeting people after so long, and just thinking, "There you are. You made it home!"

When I found out my sister was pregnant, I was ecstatic! I was about 4 months along. Our babies would be close in age, just like our older two sons are! When I was on bed rest, we would call each other, discussing strollers, remedies for unrelenting nausea, and trash TV.

Two months later my water broke.

We cried together. The ugly, body wrenching, soul shaking cries. She was one of the only people I was actually capable of talking to while I was in the hospital. Even though she was, quite literally, across the country from me, she stood by me through one of the hardest things I have gone through. She is one of my best friends.

I was determined to be there for the birth of her first daughter.

On March 6th, almost exactly 7 months later, I got to see her baby enter this world. And it was balm to my unknowingly achy soul.

Her labor was hell.

Which would make sense, seeing as how we ARE related.

At one of the most unpleasant times, my brother Mike and her husband Jordan gave her a blessing. As I stood sobbing in the corner of the room, Jordan sweetly told my sister there were members of her family who have passed on, that were watching over her.

My chest felt like it would burst. And I could almost hear my boy say, "I'm here."

And I basked in that notion.
I let it resonate through my bones.

Then, almost as quickly as her daughter was born, I felt a strong reassurance that he was gone; he was needed elsewhere. Feeling him so close was a final gift for me, to wrap up our story. He was the tragic ending, but he was a part of this new perfect begining; sweet Tilly Kay had made it to Earth! No doubt in my mind, they were together, just moments previously. I walked over to the table where Tilly was laying, brand new from heaven! I looked her in the eyes and my heart vibrantly told hers, "Thank you."

So, after watching the video of the missionary return to his family today, my mind wandered to a final reunion I look forward to with my own son. I hope to hold him in my arms and think, "Oh! There you are. I missed you."

And then we will know, all that time spent a part, was all worth it for that moment.

So Hugh.

2011-03-09T06:47:00.003-10:00

Hey ya'll.

I just got back from a spur of the moment,

whirl wind trip to 'da dirty south: Georgia.

The boys stayed home.

Chris sent me this video of Hugh on Sunday.

I hope you laugh as hard as I did.

I gave you the stars.

2011-02-07T08:00:00.001-10:00

*Originally written 7/28/10*

On Wednesday night, Chris and I decided to try our luck; we called up Grandma and Grandpa, in hopes of corresponding with our three year old. His younger brother is always eager to speak with us, yelling single syllable words, grunting, and slobbering on the phone. The big one is tricky. You have to get him in exactly-the-right-mood.

For the past week, every time I called, I would cross my fingers that it would be my lucky day! Tonight, his Grandpa dialed me up: J was dying to talk to his Momma. Due to my unrelenting appointment with the porcelin bowl, I missed his call by only a few minutes. I immediately called him back once I could see straight.

My heart broke as I could hear him yelling in the background, "Noooo.... I don't want to talk on the phonnnnnne." Apparently, I had missed that small window of opportunity. You don't mess with that kid. Ya know?

And so it goes.

So tonight when we dialed up our kids Grandparents, I held my breath.

"Mom! Hi. It's me J. I'm with my Grandma."

"Yay! Oh I'm so happy for you my J. I miss you so very much."

"Yes, but did you know what Mom?"

"What?"

"I left you a present, so you can be happy when I'm far away."

"Really!?"

"Mom. I gave you the stars."

Off to never never land.

2011-02-04T08:00:00.000-10:00

**Post originally written 7/5/10**

I'm totally supposed to be sleeping right now.

But, after clicking on interviews on YouTube (including Justin Timberlake, the Cast of Glee, Jessica Simposon, Jessica Beil, on and on...) for the last hour, I'm thinking that I should keep on procrastinating. Ya know, all those stimulating, thought provoking (not at all) interviews have really given me a buzz. And, yet, I'm not motivated at all.

Weird.

I remember one of my best friends telling me I could never start a blog, because there is no way that I would ever be consistent. WHAT!? Me? Pah.

Today, I played with Peter Pan, Michael, and Nana. I was Wendy. All day. And ya know, my life was magical. For heavens sakes, we flew. Everywhere. We went on a boat, up into the sky, into a castle, to the top of a few mountains, and then hid from a few monsters, just for good measure.

Which, is almost as exciting as my day yesterday.

And probably similar to my day tomorrow.

Life is beautiful.

Life is good.

This was written while I was on bedrest, before my mother in law came and picked up my brood and off they went for a month or however long it was---too long.

I'm so glad I wrote this.

While this last year seemed like a blur, even in the storm, there was happiness.

And...APPROVED.

2011-01-31T15:54:00.003-10:00

THAT'S RIGHT!

WE JUST GOT THE HAPPIEST E-MAIL OF THE YEAR (SO FAR!)

SUBJECT: CONGRATULATIONS

It came in!!! We have all your prints. I was able to approve you as of today, Jan 31^st. And you are on the website…check it out!!!

https://www.itsaboutlove.org/ial/profiles/25437184/ourMessage.jsf

Christine

Christine Robey Jolley, LCSW

Children's Services Manager

Fountain Valley and San Diego Offices

Ummmm... I am excited. I am really, really, really excited. So excited, that I couldn't wait the whole two minutes it was going to take for Chris to get home from work, I just.had.to. call him immediately. But then I couldn't stop crying long enough to tell him the news over the phone.

I'm sure he thought I was dying.

Either way folks, today is a good day.

Today is a really great day.

We turned in all of our paper work 14 weeks and 5 days ago (but who's counting). I feel like we are announcing we made it past the "first trimester"; and with my track record, that's AMAZING NEWS. I will write more later, when my hands have stopped shaking so bad, and tears aren't streaming down my face. Chris just walked in the door from work and is on the phone telling someone the good news! Oh, and Hugh is sitting inside the toilet (what? Yes. I'm serious. Who is that child?) so I should go. I just had to post this!

I am more than thrilled.

My name is Becca.

2011-01-26T13:11:00.000-10:00

Post originally written 10/2/09

I woke up this morning to J saying, "Hi. Becca. It's me, J. I'm awake."

I rolled over and said, "What did you say!?"

"Becca. Your name is Becca."

And I bursted out laughing.

I mean, he's right. My name is Becca. Surprise, surprise . But who even calls me that? I honestly could not think of the last time he has heard someone call me that. It doesn't happen often. Some family, and long (LONG) time friends call me that. But for the most part, I'm Taylor.

Plus, since when am I on a first name basis with my three year old?

Either way, for the rest of the day, he has called me Becca.

He thinks he is so funny.

P.S. J got a haircut since those pictures. He no longer looks like a woman-child.

Now he looks more like:

I know.

I'm from Utah.

2011-01-25T14:20:00.000-10:00

**Originally written 10/4/10**

Not sure why it didn't get posted back then.

Hurley Pro winner-winner, walking in from his final wave: my alternate lover, Kelly Slater.

We have a past. Another story, another day.

Hey, if Chris can love the whole God given Ocean, I can be in love with Da Bomb.com, himself.

It often times blows my mind that so much of my life is involved with surfing. I remember when I first moved to 'da OC as a young buck (16 years old I think??) my Dad said something along the lines of, "Don't go marrying a surfer or anything," and I immediately thought, "Pah. Right."

And here we are folks.

Besides the fact that my husband is a smokin' hot babe, his first love is mother ocean. Due to the conflict of interest, I guess you could say her and I are not the best of friends. She is really jealous of me, and I'm a land lover. I try to not mingle with my husbands other lover too often. I enjoy her from a far, generally from the comfort of my beach chair.

Lucky for me, my husband not only has a major crush on the Pacific at large, he is also studying, interning, playing, working, and dreaming all things directly related surf. He actually "has to" (twist his arm) attend surf competitions for all previously noted aspects of his poor life.

We "get" (twist my arm... really) to go to surf competitions with him.

It's only a matter of time before mother ocean calls my own little boys into her sneaky snare. I am strong, and know how to resist; however, for the young who wish to be like their dear ol' Dad, it seems to be the inevitable. To be quiet honest, if my boys turn out anything like their Pops, they will make some little girl very happy some day.

So ya know, I don't mind too much. Even being from Utah.

This is what my weekends look like:

Say what?

2011-01-20T12:02:00.002-10:00

Yes, I am alive.

I also have 37 posts saved as drafts.

YIKES!

I'm coming out of my blogging coma.

Promise.

Check out this.

Urgh.

2011-01-11T09:20:00.003-10:00

Ok. Seriously.

How do I fix my ghetto blog??

I want my picture at the top to be centered.

Someone.

Help.

THANKS.

It worked. Thanks Amber!

I also found this link to be helpful.

You know, for future reference.

December 5th.

2010-12-05T16:39:00.003-10:00

Today is Walt's due date. To say I feel odd, would be fairly accurate. I actually slept in until ten. Every time I began to awake, I would frantically look for the snooze button within my my brain. "Just a little longer."

Because in my dreams, my boy is with us. My three boys, happy, running, playing. All of us. Together.

I get to hold him.

I get to run my fingers through his hair.

See him smile.

and be in. my. family.

Right where he belongs.

Today would 'a, could 'a been a day to start that time together.

Instead, I look into his eyes, rock him, and wipe his tears... in my dreams.

So, when I finally started waking for the last time, I hear two boys squealing with delight; they are throwing the Christmas tree ornaments down the hall. Happy. Running. Playing.

I smile, as one tear rolls down my cheek.

Then I pull the covers off, stretch out my tired limbs, and run to join my happy, beautiful family.

Because today I am grateful for what I have, and look forward to what I will...

I love you my boy.

Sweet dreams.

So let it be written.

2010-12-01T18:14:00.000-10:00

Tonight as I was reading scriptures with the boys before bed, I had a hard time finishing the page we were on: tears were streaming down my cheeks, and the words were only getting more and more blurry as I read.

After I tucked them in, I hurried back to my bed to read over the words, again and again. It was like my heart was exploding.

Thank you. Thank you. were the only words that I could clearly muster up, as thanks to my Heavenly Father for watching over his moody, pouting daughter, that might have had a minor melt down earlier in the day, all in the name of lousy finger-prints.

MORONI 7 37-48

37Behold I say unto you, Nay; for it is by faith that ^amiracles are wrought; and it is by faith that angels appear and minister unto men; wherefore, if these things have ceased wo be unto the children of men, for it is because of ^bunbelief, and all is vain.

38For no man can be saved, according to the words of Christ, save they shall have faith in his name; wherefore, if these things have ceased, then has faith ceased also; and awful is the state of man, for they are as though there had been no redemption made.

39But behold, my beloved brethren, I judge better things of you, for I judge that ye have faith in Christbecause of your meekness; for if ye have not faith in him then ye are not^afit to be numbered among the people of his church.

40And again, my beloved brethren, I would speak unto you concerning ^ahope. How is it that ye can attain unto faith, save ye shall have hope?

41And what is it that ye shall ^ahope for? Behold I say unto you that ye shall have ^bhope through the atonement of Christ and the power of his resurrection, to be raised unto life ^ceternal, and this because of your faith in him according to the promise.

42Wherefore, if a man have ^afaith he^bmust needs have hope; for without faith there cannot be any hope.

43And again, behold I say unto you that he cannot have faith and hope,save he shall be ^ameek, and lowly of heart.

44If so, his ^afaith and hope is vain, for none is ^bacceptable before God, save the ^cmeek and lowly in heart; and if a man be meek and lowly in heart, and ^dconfesses by the power of the Holy Ghost that Jesus is the Christ, he must needs have charity; for if he have not charity he is nothing; wherefore he must needs have charity.

45And ^acharity suffereth long, and is ^bkind, and ^cenvieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily ^dprovoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

46Wherefore, my beloved brethren, if ye have not charity, ye are nothing,for charity never faileth. Wherefore, cleave unto charity, which is the greatest of all, for all things must fail—

47But ^acharity is the pure ^blove of Christ, and it endureth^cforever; and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him.

48Wherefore, my beloved brethren, ^apray unto the Father with all the energy of heart, that ye may be filled with this love,which he hath bestowed upon all who are true ^bfollowers of his Son, Jesus Christ; that ye may become the sons of God; that when he shall appear we shall ^cbe like him, for we shall see him as he is; that we may have this hope; that we may be ^dpurified even as he is pure. Amen.

He could have written it across the sky. It wouldn't have been more clear.

Well, well, well.

2010-11-12T10:21:00.002-10:00

It's time.

Some of you may or may not have noticed the new addition to our blog family

(found on the side bar to the right).

So, without further adieu, I would like to officially introduce to you:

The Happiest Search

It's true.

We are hoping to adopt.

And now that we pre-approved through LDS Family Services, we would like to shout it from the roof tops! It has been a long road (emotionally, spiritually, physically), and after many interviews, lots and lots and lots of paper work, doctor visits, temple trips, prayer, tears, and moments of utter and complete devastation, confusion, joy, and gratitude, we couldn't be more happy to be on the path we are on.

---

While family planning is such a personal matter (I believe in this whole heartedly), we are in a unique situation, where WE NEED OTHER PEOPLE, IN ORDER TO COMPLETE OUR FAMILY.

Please help us in the search to make our family complete.

Keep us in mind if you know of anyone that is considering adoption.

We know there is a specific spirit meant for our family.

We know it will come through adoption.

Here Dad.

2010-11-11T07:21:00.008-10:00

My Dad is a (WONDERFUL) man of repitition.

This morning, without fail, I woke up to a text from dear ol' Pops:

TODAY IS VETERANS DAY. BE REALLY NICE TO ANY VETERANS YOU KNOW.

(and I got the same text message last year, and certainly will get the exact same text message a year from now)

So here's to you Dad.

Cheers.

Happy Veterans Day to the greatest Vet I know.

Love you.

Ah, yea.

2010-11-08T19:25:00.004-10:00

Um, just had to post this.

Because it actually made me laugh out loud when I saw it.

THANK YOU JILL. You are good people.

My heart is heavy.

2010-11-08T06:43:00.003-10:00

I'm at a loss for words.

Love you dear Megan.

You have been a perfect example of excellence.

We will continue praying for your beautiful family.

ALOHA OE

From R House.

2010-10-31T06:42:00.001-10:00

then there was my love and adoration of abraham and sarah in the old testament.

dear sarah who must have felt so many of the same feelings i have felt. she and abraham waiting decades and decades and decades for their little boy. sarah watching hagar become pregnant and bear ishmael. that must have been so hard for her. how her heart must have hurt.

then, the news that isaac was on his way.

abraham fell on his face and rejoiced. we know that feeling.

isaac means, "he laugheth."

the child of promise and heir of the promises made to his parents.

after all those years of waiting for their dream to come true. here he was.

only to be asked to sacrifice isaac a few years later.

sarah must have known.

she let abraham and isaac go.

oh, her faith! she knew the Lord would remember her.

can you imagine after all that waiting and pain, then to be asked to sacrifice your miracle, your son?

no.

however, the Lord already knew that abraham would obey. he already knew abraham's heart. but the Lord needed abraham to know that abraham would do whatever He needed him to do. i think there must not have been much harder for abraham than this moment.

the Lord needed me to give up my old dream. He took the thing that was the hardest and most dear to me. the thing that i wanted more than anything else and He asked me to sacrifice it. He needs me to know that i can give up my dream for His.

i suppose this is what takes faith. to know that the Lord has a plan for you, knows you and loves you. sometimes we do not know the good gift that we'll be given. it may not be what we were thinking. but, we can have faith that there is a good gift out there for us.

i am reminded of "the infertility" talk in conference by elder spencer j. condie called "Claim the Exceeding Great and Precious Promises."

the Lord will remember us.

here is my favorite section from the end of his talk:

The Apostle Peter testified that “the Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering” toward us (2 Peter 3:9). In this age of one-hour dry cleaning and one-minute fast-food franchises, it may at times seem to us as though a loving Heavenly Father has misplaced our precious promises or He has put them on hold or filed them under the wrong name. Such were the feelings of Rachel.

But with the passage of time, we encounter four of the most beautiful words in holy writ: “And God remembered Rachel” (Genesis 30:22). And she was blessed with the birth of Joseph and later the birth of Benjamin. There are millions on earth today who are descendants of Joseph who have embraced the Abrahamic promise that through their efforts “shall all the families of the earth be blessed, even with the blessings of the Gospel, which are the blessings of salvation, even of life eternal” (Abraham 2:11).

When heaven’s promises sometimes seem afar off, I pray that each of us will embrace these exceeding great and precious promises and never let go. And just as God remembered Rachel, God will remember you.

the Lord suffers with us. He is in the trenches of our despair and tears with us. He's not telling us to be patient, He wraps us in His arms and whispers, "I know. I know."

It's in the details.

2010-10-21T20:17:00.005-10:00

Chris' family got together for his Grandpa Mahaffey's birthday extravaganza over the summer.

I was on bed rest with hyperemesis gravidarum, between hospital visits, and had no desire to drive 2 hours and act social; however, we love our Mahaffey family, and it had been a while since we had seen all of them together, and we simply adore Grandpa. With our love for their family, and the persuading words of my mother-in-law, we figured we needed to make an appearance. After all, they had hired a photographer, and planned to do family pictures with the whole crew---it would just be weird of us not to go. Bedrest or not.

We ended up staying for about 2 hours. I threw up four times. And got my picture taken.

Lovely.

For some reason I have never seen those pictures. Today, my father in law sent a shot of our little family via e-mail. Tears stung my eyes. My heart pounded hard. I couldn't stop staring.

I remember that girl.

Her eyes look tired, worn, and beat.

She was sick, sick, sick.

And pregnant!

With her dear sweet baby.

She had no idea what lay ahead...

Me and that boy, we fought a hard fight.

Gave it our all.

It was a really hard battle.

I want to whisper to her, "Don't worry. It will work out." because while she thinks her life is difficult now, she is about to face something so impossible.

And here we are! And look at that picture. We are all together; how it should be! All five of us. My three sons. I love, love, love how Hugh is looking up with his arm stretched. And that glow to the right. And how you can't actually see my four month pregnant belly, yet our Walt is still clearly in this picture.

There are secrets all over this shot. It's our story. The hard. The beautiful.

I love this picture.

Even with the girl: tired, worn, and beat. She is still smiling.

Doctor appointments rhyme with awesome.

2010-10-19T07:45:00.008-10:00

Dear self:

Don't ever forget how much you LOOOOOVE taking the boys to doctor appointments. Ummm hummm. I know you wish you could go every day, but instead, I hope you limit appointments to Mondays, so you can start off the week with a bang!! Better yet, make sure to always schedule appointments right smack in the middle of nap time? Yes please! And keep going to the same doctor that lives an hour away from home. Sure, sure, there are plenty of Pediatricians in our neighboorhood, but staying local does not make it nearly as fun!

When you get to the office, feel free to make a mental note about how much you actually DID need the double stroller, and wish you put it inside the car, instead of leaving it in the drive way on accident. It would have been helpful, considering that J is sound asleep, and Hugh is wild as ever, since he woke up at 10:30 this morning, and found no need to sleep on the hour long drive up. Yikes. Since a stroller is no longer an option, carry the 30-something pound limp toddler (who would sleep through an earth quake) in one arm, and your equally heavy, over-packed diaper bag (with EVERYTHING in side just. in. case.), while chasing after Hugh, who is running around in the parking lot like a maniac.

Once you reach said crazy-child, try holding his hand to escort him inside, without dropping J or the diaper bag. I suppose it's ok if the diaper bag is smashing Hugh in the face with every step he takes. Oh, and try to figure out how to open the door without an(other) extra hand. Forget all the people looking at you like you are a 14 year old mother that has no idea what she is doing. It's cool. You got this.

Once inside, try to fill out the check-in form while your hands are contained by the humans you brought + accessories. The receptionist will feel it necessary to chat it up with you for fifteen minutes, while you disappear every 10 seconds, trying to recapture your run-away child---I mean, you had to let go of something to fill out all that junk. Eventually, J will wake up half way through the conversation, but don't you worry: as Hugh disappears around the corner J jumps out of your arms, "I'll get him!!". Not long after, you hear Hugh yelling "NOOOOO!" as you look to see J actually dragging Hugh by his feet, declaring "I got him!!!!" Awesome.

Even though they quickly get you into your room, the real fun begins. You will say each phrase approximately 37 times for every nine minutes of your stay: "get down", "don't touch that", "please stop licking that", "no, you can't eat that gum in the sink", "did you break that?", "get off the floor", "please stay out of the trash can", "Wait!! What is in your mouth", and "Hugh. Seriously. Stop licking the floor, the chair, the counter, the bed, and the floor. Stop. Stop. Stop..."

Magically, every time a nurse/student/medical assistant/resident/doctor comes into the room, the children will be patiently waiting on your lap, as you quietly read a book to them. It was like the boys knew when someone was coming, so just moments before, they morph into reverent little lads. When the resident mentions, "Your children are the most well behaved kids I have ever seen!" try not to choke, fail to show her every.single.snack. that Hugh has conveniently dumped onto the floor, how the magazines now have every other page torn out, or how the furniture in the room is rearranged every time she comes into the room.

It would be confusing.

After an unfortunate event, where the student nurse is lucky enough to shoot up Hugh, while the legit nurse watches her attempt in horror (really, how bad can a shot be? It was bad. All three shots.), the boys get a healthy stamp of approval, a few stickers, and we are free to go. Of course Hugh will wet through his diaper during the horror incident (I might have wet my pants too), so he ends up not wearing pants at all; while you changed him, J will deliberately soak his shirt by hopping into the sink. So, naturally, with each child half dressed in the middle of Fall, your exit will me nearly as classy as your entrance.

As you walk down the hall, the nurse says, "See you in two months" and you laugh out loud.

Lucky for you, your healthy kids will wake up from their naps delirious, with fevers and runny noses. Ironic?

Love,

I love doctor visits.

My fancy Halloween life.

2010-10-17T17:09:00.004-10:00

Halloween is a big deal around these parts. Every year, I totally over do it. Ya know, making the 3 ingredient pumpkin cookies and eating them all by myself; being grumpy that there are ALWAYS leaves in my backyard; and allowing my children to use the free paper bags you get from shopping at Trader Joes, for trick-or-treat bags.

Classy.

I went to bunco last week, and won some sweet 5 dollar pumpkin lights. Leaving the party with my box in hand, I was giddy with joy, to have my very own Halloween decorations. Tis the season! I thought to myself, "I wonder how long these will last in my house..." To my surprise, they lasted more than twenty minutes. A half hour after opening the box, every single pumpkin was removed from the string of lights.

Every year, since J was born, my sister has mailed us Halloween costumes for the kids. In Halloweens of old, she has sent adorable little costumes, that my kids have adored. J still loves to put on his chicken costume from his first year of Halloween--- no, it doesn't fit him, but I gave up trying to explain that one to him! Joining the chicken in our Halloween collection, are a dragon, a kangaroo, and Chewbacca himself. What? Those are random.

Since our life is just overflowing with excitement, it's actually become this fun thing we look forward to! When someone asks, "So, what are you going to be for Halloween", I never know. She keeps it a secret and sends them to us in the mail, while we wait with abated breath to see where our destiny will guide us each Halloween. It's kind of one-of-those-things that happened, because my boys were the only grandkids for a while (until my fabulous nephews came along. Shout to D-RON, JOE-JOE, E-JAY!).

This year, my sister magically owns two babinos of her very own for the first year! The question arose if she was going to leave the dressing of my children to their mother. Fortunately, we figured it would be logical, for each of us to pick out costumes, and send them to each other, across the country, instead of actually buying our own. Makes sense. Right? Side note: she lives is Georgia. Pronounced: Joe-Jah Emphasis on the Joe. Thanks.

So, while plenty of fabulous people I know, will be creating their very own costumes and beautifying their homes this season, I want you to know that I will be enjoying my burned pumpkin cookies, jumping into piles of never ending leaves, and recycling our T.J. bags.

And loving our costumes.

Hugh the hamburger.

J the garden gnome.

Just another one of those things.

2010-10-12T06:21:00.000-10:00

It's amazing how drained I am from registering.

I don't want to blog tonight.

So, instead I will give you some info:

Chris and I registered for the

2010 OC Walk to Remember

"We walk for the steps our babies will never take"

I still remember our wonderful heaven-sent nurse that sat with me for hours before Walt was born. She just so happened (tender mercy) to be the Head of the Grievance Team at UCI.

SIDE NOTE. Two things:

1) Isn't that sad that there are such things as: Grievance Teams

Yuck. And Yuck.

2) Isn't it amazing that we showed up just after her shift started?

Yes. And Yes.

She is actually the person that trains EVERYONE in the hospital how to deal with "GRIEVING SITUATIONS".

She is my own personal angel sent.

Anywho (can you tell my brain is scattered??), she was one of the only people who didn't walk through our hospital room door with a look of doom/devastation slapped on their face. She sat in bed with me, cried with me, answered every innocent question I had, and laughed at every totally inappropriate comment that came spewing out of my mouth all night.

I couldn't help it.

It was the morphine.

And, my lack of propriety. Yep. Both did me in that day.

Anywho (again), I remember when she mentioned this Walk. My heart leaped, and I instantly knew that it was something I would want to do. When your baby dies in your arms, only moments after birth, there is not much you get to do to celebrate their life.

Just sayin'.

And here we are. It's October already?

It's October already.

We would love to invite any and all that want to participate. It would really (like, really, really) mean a lot to us to see your face.

And, we are pretty shy about telling people what would mean a lot to us.

So come.

.REGISTER HERE.

PS We have a "TEAM NAME" because we are THAT official. Don't forget to register AS A TEAM MEMBER: Walking with Walt

PPS Now that I am officially off bed rest

(well, not really-ish... but I will be. Next week. I know I will get a clear sign!) it's time to plan our Memorial for little Wally.

Since all hell broke loose after his birth, it sort of put a damper on the whole memorial/burial part of this all.

Details, details.

We have our plot, but have been waiting for.ev.er. on his head stone---did you know it takes like five hundred years for those things??--- yadda, yadda, yadda.

My point: if you can't make it to the Walk, we are also attending the candle light ceremony that the hospital puts on for all the infants who have died that year:

"Wave of Light" Candle light ceremony

DATE AND TIME:

October 15th 7:00 PM

LOCATION:

UCI Medical Center

Edward Shanbrom

MD Hall Lawn

PARKING:

Hospital Parking Structure

.The end.

Copy / Paste

2010-10-11T10:30:00.003-10:00

I want to quickly post this.

I have so, so so, SO much to say about it, but the story alone is pretty long, and I want to make sure I never forget it. I found it here:

I thought the worst day in my life was the day I was body surfing at Laguna Beach and in a split second became paralyzed from the neck down and would have to live the remainder of my life on life support. I seemed to have lost so much -- the use of my body, my profession as a teacher, my callings in the Church, and I thought, my ability to be an effective husband and father. I didn't spend much time dwelling on it, but I did think from time to time why this had happened to me.

Part of the answer has come to me over the years from a talk given by Hugh B. Brown, a former general authority and counselor in the first presidency. The entire talk which was given many years ago was reprinted in its entirety in the January, 1973, New Era. It is worth reading.

President Brown as a young man was living on a farm he had purchased up in Canada. It was run down and a currant bush on the property had grown to a height of 6 feet. It had all gone to wood, and no longer was producing fruit. Taking his pruning shears he walked over to the currant bush to prune it. He then said:

"... I cut it down, and pruned it, and clipped it back until there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps. It was just coming daylight, and I thought I saw on top of each of these little stumps what appeared to be a tear, and I thought the currant bush was crying. I was kind of simpleminded (and I haven’t entirely gotten over it), and I looked at it, and smiled, and said, “What are you crying about?” You know, I thought I heard that currant bush talk. And I thought I heard it say this: “How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as big as the shade tree and the fruit tree that are inside the fence, and now you have cut me down. Every plant in the garden will look down on me, because I didn’t make what I should have made. How could you do this to me? I thought you were the gardener here.” That’s what I thought I heard the currant bush say, and I thought it so much that I answered. I said, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. I didn’t intend you to be a fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush, and some day, little currant bush, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for loving me enough to cut me down, for caring enough about me to hurt me. Thank you, Mr. Gardener.’ ”

Time passed. Years passed, and President Brown was in England with the British Canadian forces fighting in World War I. He was well thought of as an officer and was in line to be promoted to General. He knew in his heart, as did his fellow officers that the appointment to General should be his. President Brown related how he was so proud of himself, his achievement, and how much he looked like a general and obviously deserved to be one. Instead, he was called in to meet with the commanding general of the British Canadian troops in England and was informed that he was being sent back to Canada, would maintain his current rank, and would be training troops instead of fighting. He later learned the reason for this action was that he was a Mormon. Mormons were not highly thought of at that time and he had achieved the highest rank any Mormon had ever attained in the British Canadian Army.

After receiving the bad news on what he then thought was one of the worst days of his life, he said "... and when I got to my tent, I was so bitter that I threw my cap and my saddle brown belt on the cot. I clinched my fists and I shook them at heaven. I said, “How could you do this to me, God? I have done everything I could do to measure up. There is nothing that I could have done—that I should have done—that I haven’t done. How could you do this to me?” I was as bitter as gall.

And then I heard a voice, and I recognized the tone of this voice. It was my own voice, and the voice said, “I am the gardener here. I know what I want you to do.” The bitterness went out of my soul, and I fell on my knees by the cot to ask forgiveness for my ungratefulness and my bitterness..."

At the time of my accident everything in my life was going so well. My family and I were living "after the manner of happiness." There was not a cloud on the horizon and the wonderful dreams we shared regarding our future seemed righteous and achievable and what the Lord would have us do. However, His ways are not always our ways, and the pruning process began. I was like the currant bush that had been pruned. There were tears in my eyes and in my heart. I felt that I had been cut down to nothing and it hurt badly. I didn't clench my fists and shake them at God, crying out in bitterness, "Why did this happen to me," but my heart was broken. I was devastated.

As I consider the years that have gone by since the accident, just like the currant bush, though the pruning was very painful, it was necessary for me to be able to fulfill a mission the Lord had in store for me that I never could have anticipated, aspired to, or envisioned. In order to fulfill that mission I had an important lesson to learn that the "Gardner" knew that for me at least, I could only learn through the pruning.

The lesson I had to learn, and thankfully every one doesn't need to be paralyzed and on life support to learn it, was stated by the Savior to his apostles just before going into the Garden of Gethsemane. "I am the vine, ye are the branches. He who abideth in me and I in him bringeth forth much fruit, for without me ye can do nothing." [John 15:5, emphasis added]

My individualized pruning by the master "Gardener" has taught me this valuable lesson -- I am nothing, and can do nothing, without Christ -- the "true Vine."

If we learn no other lesson during our lifetimes than without Christ we can do nothing, our time here upon this Earth will not have been wasted.

Helping out.

2010-10-07T13:51:00.004-10:00

The boys were having a grand ol' time waiting for dinner. As I watched them jumping on the trampoline, they discussed the exact aerodynamics of how one could be become "THE jumping champion". One boy would sit off to the side waiting while the other jumped two or three times, before they turned to their brother and said, "You're turn." This routine continued, as they tried to figure out how to jump higher then the other.

After the billionth time jumping, J began instructing Hugh precisely how to execute a good jump. In between the lecture, Hugh started tugging at his shorts. J jumped up and said (with a very concerned voice), "Hugh, do you need to go potty? You need to go potty little buddy?"

Hugh replied with his ever so present dragged out, "Yeeeeeeeah."

J turned into this auto pilot child, totally in control. "Ok. Come here." He held Hugh's hand and escorted him off the trampoline. Once they reached the steady ground, J tried to pick up Hugh, and carry him inside (I'm pretty sure they weigh almost the same...). Hugh was so patient, and let J baby him the whole way.

They were both enjoying it. So was I.

J brought Hugh inside and gave him THE TALK. "No going potty on the floor. Ok Hugh? You only go potty on the toilet. No potty on the floor, right??"

"Yeeeeeeeah."

J began dismantling Hugh's mess of clothes (that child is always filthy dirty---why??). Before he got to his diaper, he grabbed his face with both hands. "Remember. No going potty on the floor. You are not a baby. You are a boy. And I am a boy. And you have to go potty on the toilet. Not the floor. Right?"

"Yeeeeeeah."

I almost peed my own pants laughing at how serious the situation had become. To them though, I was only a fly on the wall. I watched their hysterical interaction as J was dragging/carrying Hugh into the bathroom, and directed him to the toilet.

"Ok. There it is little guy. You can do it. It's not scary. You can't drown. It's just a toilet. That's where you go potty. And you can do it. It's not scary. Go. Go on. I'm here."

Hugh has gone to bathroom countless times on the potty. Just so you know. This was NOT new to him, but they were both playing their parts so perfectly. J escorted him to the royal thrown, and even gave his booty a boost up. Hugh did his thing, with all sorts of encouraging words from J. After a few seconds, J grabbed his face in between his hands again and said, "You can do this!!" after he had already finished his business.

Hugh said, "I can do this!"

After all was said and done, J didn't think it was important to re-dress his brother, and away they went, back to their jumping. One fully clothed, the other, not.

I was shaking from keeping a straight face, while laughing so hard, I couldn't get a decent picture from my phone.

For the record, I totally, completely, fully morally appose to taking pictures of my children when they are not clothed, or doing their business in the bathroom.

I think it's absurd.

However, this could not have been passed up.

White trash?

Tough love.

2010-10-04T16:37:00.006-10:00

My boys love each other.

The other day I was making dinner, while the little cherubs were playing in the front room. I start to hear that all too familiar sound of my children "loving each other", uh, too much. To any untrained ear, it may sound as if my offspring were trying to murder one another (ieweeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth), but I know better.

I am a glass-half-full kind of person.

I walked into the room just in time to see J body slam Hugh. I managed to pry apart the love fest. It was no easy task. Upon completion of separating the two intertwined bodies, I placed them on opposite sides of me.

"J, why were you trying to punch Hugh in the face?"

"He bit me!"

"Well, can you please try to use your words, instead of smashing him?"

After much internal deliberation, he mustered up the will power to do so.

"...Hugh, don't try to eat me! I am not your dinner."

The room was silent, while Hugh mulled it over in his head.

"Oh... Ok."

And that was that.

They went right back to playing.

I'm glad we cleared that up.

Love this.

2010-09-02T12:00:00.003-10:00

*my blog has totally become a dumping ground for me.

Sorry.

I assume I will come back, eventually??

‎"Dont you quit! You keep walking! You keep trying!

There is help and happiness ahead.

Some blessings come soon,

some come late

and some dont come until heaven,

but for those who embrace the Gospel of Jesus Christ,

they come.

It will be all right in the end.

Trust God and believe in good things to come"

-Elder Holland

watch the video here

and maybe you will cry your eyes out (ummm... the whole time??) like I did?

Something about Elder Holland. He is a fierce speaker.

Elizabeth, thank you for the video.

It's been one of those days...

2010-08-30T17:47:00.001-10:00

Chris got off work early today.

2010-08-20T17:07:00.003-10:00

It was perfect. We packed up the boyzzz and headed off for an adventure. Some where along the way, we searched for "beast-essss-es" (beasts), running around in some field, while Hugh face planted it every few strides; had impromptu dance parties in the car; J decided he needed to pee, (my mom hates that word...what word do you use??? I'd like to know) and proceeded to do so in the middle of the grass, while I quickly prompted Chris to just look away, pretending like we don't see him ---ah hem, white trash--- because the bathroom was just no where in sight; played baseball until the sun started to set; and just played, played, played, while the boys stalled for bedtime.

We all laughed together, and I breathed in our beautiful life. I felt so content. I plopped down on the couch next to best friend, after our boyzzz (J taught me how to say "boys the right way") were sent off to dreamland. I couldn't wipe the ridiculous smile off my face.

I took my first steps by myself last weekend.

I held my boys in my arms today.

Wow.

Let me restate that. I HELD MY BOYS IN MY ARMS TODAY. Something I was no where physically capable of doing, even just days ago. I don't know who enjoyed it more, me or my boys. Due to my back complications, I haven't been much good to anyone in our family. True story. I haven't been able to do much besides move from point A to point B, without feeling like my back was going to rip in half.I was made fully aware of how long my recovery would be before we even left the hospital, but it hasn't made the mental toll any easier.

Over these past few months, I kept warning my sweet husband, usually after a day of feeling totally defeated by my mechanically dysfunctional body, that I was going to come back; and holy smokes, tonight I believed it! I felt ME slowly creeping back into my life. These last few months broke a part of me; it made me slightly go out of my mind, wanting, wishing, hoping, waiting to be ME again: The person who took joy in taking care of her family, played with her babies all day long, searching for beasts, dealing with peeing in public, laughing, and loving. Cuddling. Holding.

I finally believe it: I'm on the mend. Every day I'm capable of moving a little more, and my heart rejoices leaps and bounds. I'm grateful for this broken body, that is working so hard to bring ME back. I want to shout for joy! I am so grateful for a patient family, who have waited for me to come back. I owe them my everything.

I'm coming back people.

I'm coming back.

And not a moment too soon.

Holding my boys never felt so good.

I will try to fix you.

2010-08-19T17:17:00.006-10:00

I was on bed rest for six weeks before Walt was born. After the first month wrapped up, my doctors threatened to hospitalize me. I had lost 12 pounds, and their "at home efforts" were not proving fruitful. I managed to beg and plead my case, striking a bargain: COMPLETE BEDREST, under the condition that if I were to loose one more pound, I would be hospitalized, no questions asked.

That day my little boys were shipped off to San Diego to be with my in-laws. It broke my heart. I was left home, remaining in bed, day in and day out; missing my boys like crazy! All the while, I was able to bond with my son-to-be...

In order to not go totally insane (only partially), I had to become quite creative. I started sending out mass texts: ANY SUGGESTIONS? Each person responding with their favorite online activity, book to read, etc. After I would complete one TV series online, I would search for another.

So You Think You Can Dance became a front runner.

-------

Tonight I decided to watch the finale for the show. During this episode, they invite each judge, and a few different choreographers from the show, to pick their favorite performance from the season. Each selection is then re-performed to the viewers delight. One re-performance after another performed, as I smiled and nodded.

Then, came this performance... I remembered back to when I saw the first time it was originally performed. I thought it was nice, but it didn't really push any buttons, or ring any bells. Here we are, simply a few weeks later, and it hit me like a ton of bricks.

The choreographer's objective was to depict the relationship between a son and his mother: how the son helps to carry his mother through an insurmountable obstacle in her life.

Ah ha. Sweet, sweet, sweet tender mercies.

Keep on sending them my way. They never get old.

Tonight, after my bambinos were tucked into bed, I crawled into the same bed that I spent so much time fighting for my little guys life --- where we fought together, really; my body still slowly healing from his short life lived.

And I guess we are still fighting this. Together.

Here are the lyrics to the song:

When you try your best but you don't succeed

When you get what you want but not what you need

When you feel so tired but you can't sleep

Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face

When you lose something you can't replace

When you love someone but it goes to waste

Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

And high up above or down below

When you're too in love to let it go

But if you never try you'll never know

Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

Tears stream down your face

When you lose something you cannot replace

Tears stream down your face

And I

Tears stream down your face

I promise you I will learn from my mistakes

Tears stream down your face

And I

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

I can do hard things.

2010-08-18T11:25:00.000-10:00

Loved it.