Reflecting at 5 years

5 Years ago today, 2 young, and very much in love people woke up far too early to start a day that was a comedy of errors, but eventually led to the temple, and a beautiful sealing ceremony.

We were late.
Shaun's shoes were missing.
It was determined Shaun's shoes got thrown away.
There was dumpster diving involved.
No shoes were found.
Shaun had no other church shoes.
Shaun ended up wearing his dad's old church shoes which were polished lovingly and quickly by his mother.
We were so late.
Our photographer beat us there.
It was freezing.
I was the only one without sleeves.
The black trash bag I stood on to protect my dress is visible in most of our pictures......(thanks for that...)

And yet, 5 years later, none of it matters.

If the last 5 years have taught me anything it is to be flexible. Plans are a joke. Plans normally get tossed out the first open window.

5 years in, and I don't think a SINGLE thing has gone as planned. And guess what? It doesn't matter.

At the end of our first year of marriage we were still pretty clueless. Very much in love, and adventurers! In the first year we had driven from coast to coast, or at least that was what we liked to claim. We had driven from Utah to Washington State to meet Shaun's family, and then when we moved from Utah to Florida, we drove. We drove from coast to coast, in Shaun's red Pontiac G6. We learned so much that first year, about each other and ourselves, and about us as a couple. It really was a year of discovery. And that was what 1 year of marriage got us.

The second year of marriage brought a baby, and work, and school and discovery. We personally grew so much this year. As I added the role of "mother" to student and wife, and as Shaun added "father". Bowen was added to our little family, and the love between the two of us grew in ways we never could have dreamed possible. Shaun somehow managed to balance husband, dad, student, and employee, in ways that I still don't fully understand and find possible, but he did it. And with grace, and little to no sleep! We gained such a greater compassion for the world, and each other. My thoughts and beliefs about Shaun's ability to be an amazing father were proven to be absolutely true. And I watched him transform into an incredible version of himself, but better, higher, more determined, right in front of my eyes. I also watched him melt, and transform and mold and discover who he really was and what he was really capable of right in front of me. And that was what the 2nd year of marriage brought us.

The 3rd year of marriage was a big one. With baby in tow Shaun graduated, and we set out on an adventure. I found out exactly how capable Shaun is. How determined he is. How unwilling to give up he is. We moved to Florida, without really a plan, other than "find a job" just to find that job in Vegas. (remember when I said all plans go out the window?) So we moved to Vegas, and we got thrown into a world of social work, and foster kids, and progress notes, and behavior modification. And MAN was it an adventure! And I got to watch my husband SHINE. In case you guys want to know (and this has become more evident in more recent years, but I'm adding it here,) Shaun was MADE for this, when I met Shaun, he told me that he wanted to help people, he wasn't sure how, and as a history major, I kind of laughed at him, "How are you going to help people, with a history major?!" but MAN! He has taken his minor in sociology, and MADE IT WORK. and this our 3rd year of marriage, I got to see the first glimpse of that. He is incredible at what he does, and his employers know it, and value him so much, and that has REALLY become evident in the last couple of months and weeks, but this was the VERY start of it. The seed was planted this year, and we're starting to see the fruits of the labor, and it is incredible. Our 3rd year of marriage, we were stretched, and tried, and in some ways we failed. Not even going to lie, we found out there are somethings we are really bad at.  But we learned. And we grew. And we grew. I think if I had to sum up our 3rd year of marriage, it was a year of growth.



They say the first 5 years are the hardest. I've reminded myself of that, multiple times. "If I can just get through the first 5 years..." the last 2 years have tested us in ways that I'm not sure I can adequately describe.  This day has been my "finish line" for a long time, not that I think everything will be rainbows and butterflies from here on out, but I can tell you that our relationship is so much stronger standing here today, at this quasi "finish line" than it was 2 years ago.  We have truly been through the refiners fire. We have truly been tested. A test I know others have been through, and struggled through, others have failed at, and to be honest, I don't blame them, one bit. Last year was BY FAR the hardest year of our marriage, but we made it through, together. I COULD NOT have survived last year without Shaun by my side. He was my rock. When I wanted to give up, when I was shouting to the sky, crying out for answers, when I broke down into sobs, he was there. He was unshaken. He was my constant, when everything else seemed to be moving, he was there. We lost 2 babies in our 4th year of marriage. And yet, we were unshaken from each other. When my faith was shaken, my Shaun was there. When I wanted to give up, he reminded me why we were going in the first place. He didn't judge me when I stormed out of the house, overwhelmed with everything. He just loved. And when I came back inside he didn't question, he just held, and loved, and soothed. He just loved. "God gave me you for the ups and downs...." That's my Shaun.   I know part of Shaun's job is to help, and to serve without judgement. But to see him, and to witness him, and be on the receiving end of that help and that service, without judgement was eye opening. And I gained a new appreciation for him, and the work that he does.  And that was what 4 years of marriage got us.

And this year, as we dealt with even more trials and challenges he was there. I know this is going to sound weird, but I don't think I have talked with my husband more about more things than I have this last year of marriage.  If the 4th year of our marriage was a year of spiritual bonding and closeness, this the 5th year of our marriage has been a year of emotional bonding and closeness. We have stayed up to all hours of the nights, talking about anything and everything. Some of our trials forced us to. Other times just because. We have truly just enjoyed being together. I have looked at couples who have been together for forever and wondered how they could feel "close" and "love" talking about the most mundane crap, and I feel like, this year, I get it. This year we reached "old and boring" status, and I AM PROUD of that!!!  We have been through so much this year, more tests and trials. But it has been amazing to witness the foundation we have built sustain us, and hold us, and support us, as we navigated this year, we were able to grow and build and sustain ourselves. And that was what 5 years of marriage got us.

I have often wondered how we would have fared had we gotten our start in a place other than the Lord's house. Would we be here today? Would we be as strong? I cannot imagine that being so.  I am so grateful for the gospel, and for our eternal marriage to be able to give us an eternal perspective through all the trials and challenges we have been through. I think about how much more I know my husband, and how much closer I am to my husband after these 5 years, and in particular these last 2 years, and I wouldn't trade them for the world.


As I have written this I have thought about a few of my friends who are engaged, preparing for marriage, what they must be thinking, reading this. HAVE NO FEAR! Not everyone's first 5 years are like this. And you know what, even if they are, you will be better for it. We all wish marriage could and would be "Happily ever after" and as happy and as thrilled as I am to be married, marriage is not easy. It is WORK. Hard work. But work so worth the effort. Work so worth the reward.

Shaun, we made it! Happy 5 years love! I love you. I am so glad that I have gotten to spend the last 5 years with you. I am so much more in love with you today than I ever thought would be possible.

Here's to 5 more years, love!

Migraines

I've been having migraines for as long as I can remember. If you know me well, you know I'm pretty much addicted to coke (Coca-cola that is!) and my migraines fuel my addiction.

When I was in high school I was on Midrin to help control my migraines, but then it was discontinued and the process to find an effective medication was so long and frustrating that I resigned myself to just drinking coke on a regular basis for the rest of my life. And that has pretty much been my life since October 2009 (When midrin was discontinued.)

Recently the addiction to coke has become a bit much to the point that I contemplated going through the process of finding another daily medication to help control them, but the initial process was so awful I never made the push to do so.

Until this month.


Thursday the 11th we were driving up to Provo to go visit Shaun's brother Chad. But with the recent rains I-15 had been completely washed out and we were facing a 100+ mile detour.

We had driven about 45 minutes out of town and I was smack dab in the middle of a migraine. I had felt it coming on, and had stopped to get a coke in hopes that it would nip it in the bud and I could continue driving. The coke was unsuccessful. I knew it was going to be a bad one, when I had finished my coke and my migraine had gone from just starting to full blown.

I ended up calling my dad at 11:47 am to reminisce with him of sorts, since I know he gets migraines similar to me. I have since learned that they are called auras. But I called to complain to him as I drove about how I couldn't really see.  When I was younger I thought something was wrong with my eyes that caused the migraines, as I'd get 'blind spots' and then migraines, only to find out that the 'blind spots' were actually part of the migraines. I was having Shaun read me the road signs so we didn't miss our detour. Looking back, we should have switched driving then, Oops. As we got into our detour the pain got so bad I asked Shaun to take over. It went down hill from there.

I sent a text to my friend at 1:03 desperate for help. We were in the middle of nowhere. I couldn't speak coherently. When I started my text to her, I couldn't feel or move three fingers on my right hand, by the time it took for me to finish my whole arm was limp and numb.

I was desperately trying to communicate to Shaun what I was experiencing but I literally couldn't form words.   Shaun told me for a long time I kept saying "Par" and he would repeat it, and I would as him to spell it, then ask him what he was spelling.

He and I have talked since that I was probably trying to say "stroke," golf being the connection, but that was as close as my brain could get. I thought I was having a stroke.


In an hour I went from just having a normal migraine with some visual disturbances to not being able to move or feel my arm, or be able to communicate.

I had a few moments of lucidity where I asked Shaun to find help. I needed to see a doctor. I was in so much pain, I held my empty coke cup to my face in fear I would puke any second, I couldn't open my eyes because it was too bright outside, the radio was too loud, the air was too cold. Shaun wanted to call an ambulance. I didn't think I was dying, so I said no. We found a State Park Ranger (our detour was through the Valley of Fire) and asked if there was any medical personnel on staff. There wasn't. He wanted to call an ambulance. I kept shaking my head "no." He told us of an urgent care 30 min up the road. I thought I could survive until then.

During those 30 min I started speaking in tongues again, (my description of it) and Shaun started speeding.

We made it to the urgent care, and they were closed. I remember there being a sign on the door. But I don't remember if Shaun told me why they were closed.

Our options then became, 1) call an ambulance 2) continue to mesquite, to the closest ER. I figured we could save ourselves the ambulance co-pay and drive ourselves there, since I wasn't dying.

We got to the ER (after choosing option 2) I was somewhat lucid, could mostly move my arm, but my lip and eyebrow was numb. They got us back immediately, thank heavens.

Shaun explained everything to the first nurse, but the doctor pretty much insisted that I fumble my way through it. Interrupting me every 3rd word to ask me another question before I could finish answering the one he had just asked.

Finally he stopped asking me questions and started berating me for not being on a daily migraine medicine.

He then stepped out to call my doctor in Vegas, came back with a different attitude.

He hooked me up to an IV, morphine, zofran for the nausea, and orders for a CT scan to make sure that I didn't have any actual brain damage.

The first kind person we encountered in the ER was the CT tech, when he came in to get me, Shaun was leaning over my head to help muffle sounds and block as much light as possible. Shaun explained that I was having a horrible migraine and some of the other things I was experiencing, this kind kind soul, went and got me two towels to put over my head. At first I thought it was a bit of overkill. Two?! But I soon realized how lovely the two towels were and how nearly bearable they made noise and light. He was a saint.

CT scan came back clean, thank heavens, I didn't have an actual stroke, I was told I had a sporadic hemiplegic migraine. A migraine that mimics a stroke.

They gave me more morphine. And monitored me for a while longer. The Dr contemplated keeping me overnight, but since I wasn't speaking in tongues for him, and I wanted to leave, I got to leave.

I was prescribed a narcotic. And sent on my way. (With instructions to return to the nearest ER if it got bad again)

On the way out of the ER the first nurse asked me if I was feeling better, I was too out of it and still in too much pain to respond, jerk DR was right there and responded for me "Yeah, she's doing better."

"I think."

We only made it as far as Saint George, UT that night. Where we stayed at a hotel, I ate an ice cream sandwich, took a pain killer, and slept, for a long time.


It literally took me days to feel like I could think and talk normally again. I'm not sure I have felt more fragile in my entire life as I have in the days following.

I have since met with my Doctor here in Vegas, whom I LOVE, and he has prescribed me a daily medicine to try to help control my migraines in hopes that I never have one like this again.

I read this article tonight which sparked my desire to write this post. I was shocked how much the first half of her article was similar to my experience. The article is about a lady who as a stroke at 33.

She writes: " I tried to join my friends’ conversation, but the words were too fast, the subject matter switching all the time. I opened my mouth to add something, but I couldn’t form the words. We went out for fondue. I don’t remember if I ate the fondue.

This was what I blogged that evening in an attempt to communicate what I was experiencing:

I am feeling strange. My brain is in a weird state right now — a combination of short brain games and lack of memory. While taking on the concept of a brain game earlier today, I suffered a memory overhaul. Now I can’t say what I want to say or remember what I want to remember. It’s just a weird situation."

That is exactly how I felt. 

I cannot tell you how grateful I am that this experience is over. I remember thinking we needed to pull over and I needed to get a blessing, but all I could communicate to Shaun was pulling the car over. He pulled over, parked and then didn't understand what to do next. It was insanely scary. I am so glad that my words work now! I am so glad I am not in that amount of pain any more. 

I have a huge amount of sympathy for stroke survivors. I cannot imagine having to deal with what I dealt with on an ongoing basis. I have also heard of people who have hemiplegic migraines that last for YEARS. Years. I cannot imagine. I am so glad, so so so glad mine only lasted for the 5 hrs or so it did. 

I am also so insanely grateful that I didn't actually have a stroke. Some one, please, tell my husband to not listen to me in emergency situations. Looking back I cannot imagine how much worse I would have made things by refusing to call an ambulance if I was actually having a stroke. My dear husband. 

On reading

I have been reading SOO much lately. And I love it. I've read blogs and facebook posts and stories for forever, but I've recently started picking back up reading books. I forgot how much I loved reading.

It started when I won a copy of Brona: a memoir. It was beautiful. It's a true story about a women who is a midwife, and becomes pregnant, and loses her baby in the early stages of labor. And how she copes with the death of her stillborn baby, and how she pulls herself back from the brink of suicide. It was beautiful (I know I already said that, but I cannot think of another word to describe how I feel about the book). I related to so many parts of the book. It was so easy to read. I finished in just a couple of days, right before the new year.

I've read just a couple books since. Most recently, I read The Fault in our Stars by John Green (he does the mental floss videos on youtube, but he is also an author! I had no idea it was the same guy for forever!) I picked up the book on Saturday (?) and just finished it today. It was incredible. I found myself at a park watching Bowen play with rocks, bawling my eyes out. I have not had tears flow that freely in a very long time.

The part that I loved the most about the book is the concept that some infinities are bigger than others. I'll use an excerpt to explain.

"There are infinite numbers between 0 and 1. There’s .1 and .12 and .112 and an infinite collection of others. Of course, there is a bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities. A writer we used to like taught us that."

I loved loved loved this. I have often thought about our little time with our little ones. Both those here on this earth with us and those who are gone. I remember when Bowen was a newborn and those days and nights seemed like they were never going to end. He was never going to be big enough to sleep through the night, he was never going to be big enough to not need my help. And oh, how I wish I could go back to that little infinity. Those days and nights were so precious. I remember rocking Bowen at night after he had eaten, trying to convince his little old soul that it was not yet time to wake up. I remember staring at our kitchen towels that I had rinsed of my over abundance of milk and then thrown over the edge of his crib, that he didn't sleep in, so they could dry in the hurricane of a fan we used as white noise. I remember watching those towels sway back and forth. Thinking, this hour is never going to end. Yet, look at me! Our Bowen turned 2.5 this last week!!! We have come so far from the milk drenched towels swaying in the breeze of our fan. 

I remember being pregnant with Emmaline and then Grayson, thinking the days were so long, being sick, and tired chasing after Bowen, thinking they would never end, when I thought of the months I had left to carry them.  And yet, they ended all too soon. 

I stumbled upon one of the only pictures I know of, consciously taken when I was pregnant with Grayson. I was struck. When I took the photo, I had no idea it was going to be the one of the only photos taken of me while pregnant with Grayson. I never would have guessed that 12 days after this picture was taken our little infinity would be over.

It seems like forever ago I lost my babies, both of them. And yet, it hurts like just yesterday.

All of this comes back to the fact that all this reading makes me want to write more! It does. And I'm trying to figure out how to put all my thoughts down into this blog, heavens knows I don't keep a journal, in a timely manner. That I am still working on. 

It was been requested of me to write a post about appropriate was to interact and talk about losses with friends and family. Things to say to parents of loss, and things not to say. So, that post is coming, soon. I think.

No one has dared say it to my face, but for those of you out there thinking "She's STILL talking about this?!" 

Yes.

I am.

And I will.

I know I've lost several friends on facebook due my inability to talk about nothing else some days. And if that is you. I understand. 

Grief has no time limit. And I have no plans to impose one on it.

The excerpt I quoted earlier, goes on to say..
"I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn't trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I’m grateful.”

On Fear and Change

The new year is upon us, and with that change, lots and lots of change.

In approximately 3 weeks our apartment contract is up, and we will be without a place to live, if we cannot find a new place and make a decision on it, in that time. We have seen so many places, and all are either too much for us, we don't feel are right or are staffed with incompetent people, and we are forced out the door.

It has been miserable. The one thing that is keeping me from losing my mind, completely, is the blessing Shaun got from our home teacher a couple weeks back. And he said "Nothing will make sense for a while." and that is the most true thing I've ever heard. Nothing is making sense. But I know something will have to work out eventually....

Shaun applied for and got offered a full time job working for Boys Town, and we turned it down. I wish I was exaggerating when I say that we wrestled with the decision for a week. We tried to make it work in so many different ways, and couldn't. Simply couldn't. It was extremely hard on all of us. Wanting so badly to make it work, and just not being able to. But, the incredible thing is, it's ok. It is ok. We're not any worse off just continuing to do what we've been doing. As hard as it has been on us. We have enough for our family. And in that regard we are incredibly blessed.

Emmaline's due date came and went before I could blink my eyes. I woke up the next morning and felt lighter. I think of my sweet baby girl often, but not in the same way. I wish I could report that this means I'm doing so much better, but that is not the case. I'll explain why in a moment.

Christmas went much better than expected. But I expected to be a heap of sadness and tears on the floor, it didn't take much to be better than that.

For the last 4 months of 2013 I kept telling myself, if I can just get to the new year, I can be ok. If I can just make it to the new year I can put this year and it's awfulness and it's trials behind me, I can focus on my babies and not the fact that I lost them. I can have hope for the future.

Well, the new year came, and with it, a giant brick wall. Of fear. Of doubt. I ran smack into it.

This giant wall shouts questions at me, questions I hate. Questions I wish I didn't have to hear. Or think about. Or worry over. Or lay awake at night contemplating.

But most importantly questions I don't want to spend the next 10 of my child bearing years answering.

I cannot spend the next 10 years of my life (or more!) living in fear of losing another child. I cannot. I will not subject myself, my heart, my body, my emotions, my family, and my faith to that.

I will not. I would not survive.

We are two months away from marking a year of turmoil. A full year. Of grief, of doubt, of faith shattering life. That I cannot believe.

As we've packed up our apartment, I cleaned out the bottom of our bathroom sink, and came face to face with my (seemingly every growing) stash of positive pregnancy tests. Stored with almost reverence in a plastic box that also keeps our sun screen and lotions. (Where else am I supposed to keep them?)  four of them. (Grayson has two) I'm sure some of you are thinking "why on earth is she keeping those?" Some days I wonder the same thing, and I think of throwing them away, but then again,  they are tangible evidence I carried those babies. I carried them. They grew in me. They did. Not for long. And they didn't get very big. But every second of every day they grew, they were a part of me. How could I throw that away?

Maybe one day I will find a home for them better suited than a clear plastic box. But that's what I have for now.

I have great fears of someone naively asking about them when they help us move.  I dream of telling them "those remind me of my dead babies" just to make the questions stop. I have fears of moving into our new ward and to have to answer all the questions again about how many babies I have. To have to deal with the "well, he's two, you ought to be ready to have another(s)"

It has taken me forever to write this post. Snippets here and there when I feel I have the strength.  It has taken me more than three weeks to get to this point, who knows how long it will take to get me to publish it.

I have been doing "necessary" things. Gaining as much information and knowledge as I can. And I feel no better off. Nothing is under my control,  and that is an awful feeling. Heaven knows I don't have enough faith for much more of this.

As I sit at a friends house doing laundry (we have no laundry room currently) I reflect on my last therapy session, and it just freaking blows my mind how much of my life, just regular general life is connected to my losses. I am mourning the loss of so much more than just babies, as if that wasn't enough. I mourn the loss of Bowen's siblings and his potential relationships with them. I mourn the loss of potential memories we could have made, they could have made. I mourn the laughs, and giggles, and smiles, and dances in the kitchens. I mourn the pillow fights that will never be. I deeply deeply mourn the fact Bowen will not have a sibling close to his age, to be his buddy, his built in friend.  I so deeply deeply mourn that.

As we went to dinner at a friends house this weekend, I was nearly in tears watching Bowen smile and laugh as he watched their kids play. He loved it. Deeply. And I cried when I got home.

I feel my ship has sailed, and I am stuck waiting on the shore watching it disappear into the horizon.