Singing a New Song

It has been way too long since I updated this blog, but I can only start right where I am. And today was a sweet day.

Susanna singing her song.

While I was pregnant with Susanna, I constantly had the hymn He Leadeth Me on my heart. I listened to dozens of versions and found myself singing it daily.

Then when my mom passed away, it became even more special to me. I felt like even though I couldn't see where I was going, God was leading me and I was safe. Susanna was only two months old when Mom died and I found myself singing it to her as I nursed her. The year passed and the song was replaced with a new anthem.

But today, little Miss Susanna sang He Leadeth Me. We were in the car and I heard her baby version of this familiar tune. She definitely had the melody and and got about half of the words. She was singing along with a CD, but it seemed like she finally found words for the melody in her heart. It was so sweet.

I hope this song will be the theme of her life and by waters calm or troubled sea, she'll trust and follow God's gentle hand. I love you, sweet daughter.

And just in case you're not familiar with this song, here is one of my favorite versions.

Benny is certainly growing up. He looks more and more like Chuck, he has accomplished all his goals in Speech so he's ready to start another objective (two months early) and this morning he offered to fix his own hair. I think he did a great job!

Super Spikey!

He was pretty pleased with himself and asked me through lunchtime if "his hair was still up."

He did something else that seemed especially grown up this morning. While going Number 2, he asked if he could look at my phone.

I was inclined to simply say no seeing as how I have a strict no-phone-near-the-toilet rule. It seems like it's just a matter of time before it falls in.

But I was curious so I asked him, "What do you want to look at?" And he said: Facebook.

Oh Benny, you're a little young to be checking Facebook on the can.

Yowzer it's been a long time since I blogged. And yowzer it's been an even longer week!

This seriously has been one heck of a week. Let me explain why I am currently wearing an enormous sweatshirt that says, "My cat walks all over me."

At midnight last night, I realized this was the only clean option:

Just in case you were wondering, there is
no photographic evidence of me ever wearing this shirt.

When I got up this morning, Chuck said, "What are you wearing?!" (Yes, we were so busy and so tired we didn't even see each other before going to bed last night.)

I turned to give him my most humble explanation and that's when I saw him. "What are you wearing?!"

He was clad in a 1992 Nascar shirt... with checkered flag sleeves.

Chuck says, "I love the checkered flag sleeves!"

We stood there. Stunned. Terrified. Both thinking, "After seven years of marriage, yeah I want surprises, but this is awful!" I actually told myself: "Count your blessings, it's better than a gambling addiction."

The laundry is piled high and these were literally our only options. In my case, I not only had to sleep in this historic and fashionably offensive sweatshirt, but also had to wear it the next day - at least until at least one load of laundry is done.

Why is the laundry piled so high? A tummy bug swept through our house. It started with Susanna on Sunday afternoon. She was crying when she got up from her nap and when I opened the door I could immediately smell why.

She had thrown up all over her bed. This means all of her friends, blankets and books that she insists on sleeping with needed a bath. But first priority, baby needs a bath.

We go straight to the tub and scrub her clean. I pulled her out and she was covered in goose bumps and shaking so I put some warm clothes on her fast. She immediately threw up all down those.

Back to the bath. Wash. Dry. Clothes. Puke.

Repeat that two more times before I got smart and asked Chuck to bring a bowl. It seemed like pulling a shirt over her head was like pushing a puke button.

She was sick a few more times that evening, but slept through the night Sunday and Monday everyone was fine. I thought I was out of the woods. I could not have been more wrong.

Tuesday night Ben sneaked in our bed as usual, but then I heard a loud belch and a heave. I sprang up and caught it just in time. The only thing worse than middle-of-the-night-puking is middle-of-the-night-sheet-changing.

We got Ben a bowl and from 3:00 to 7:00 am - approximately every twenty minutes - he sat straight up, heaved in the bowl, declared, "Hey! My tummy not hurt anymore! I'm all better!" Fell backward and was snoring 90 seconds later.

Although that is not an optimal night, it's not that awful either. The mess is contained. The child was reasonably content.

Then Susanna woke up. Knowing what was happening in my room, I ran to grab her and got to her just in time to catch another handful of throw up.

I hollered at Chuck to bring a bowl and wipes. He came running, looked like he didn't even know where to begin so he handed me the bowl.

Uh, okay. I deposited the handful of puke in the bowl while he busied himself cleaning up the tiny specks of mess on the carpet. While that's helpful, please grab the child covered in puke so Mom can go wash her hands.

Then we had alternating Thrower Upers from 5:00 to 7:00 am. Sigh.

Then Chuck got sick. And Tuesday and Wednesday were pretty much a blur of washing bowls, changing laundry and alternating Toy Story 2 and Mary Poppins.

Thursday I thought we were all back to normal so I sent Ben to school and went to work. During an important conference call, I was handed a little yellow Post-it that said, "Call Chuck. Ben burnt hand."

Huh?

Ben put his hand on our electric range while it was turned on. I don't know the details, but he had blisters on the pads of his fingers and palm of his hand. He was scared and screaming only calm with his hand in a glass of cool water.

I scooped him up and off we went to urgent care. Glass and all.

When we got there, a man checking in. I waited and watched as a trainee asked a dozen questions. One minute went by. Then two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

"Mommy, I need to go pee pee."

There is Ben standing with his hand in a cup of water doing the potty dance. At this point, a line has formed behind me. Hmmm.... I don't want to lose out spot, but I can't risk an accident. What to do?

At that moment it was our turn. "My son burnt his hand and he needs to go pee, can we make this quick?"

Blank stare from trainee. (I'll take that as a no.)

Name. Birthday. Yes, we've been here before (seriously like three weeks ago). Driver's license and insurance card just in case.

We run to the bathroom to get there behind a little girl and her daddy. There are two single-person restrooms (the kind where you close the door and lock the whole room not just a stall): Men's and Women's. The dad is walking in the Women's so I go to use the Men's and a receptionist tells me I can't do that. Really?

There's a dad with a daughter and a mom with a son and a bossy receptionist and no one really knows where it's okay for us to have our children of opposite gender deposit their pee pee. And the situation is obviously becoming more urgent for both families.

Dad goes to Men's leaving Women's for me and Bossy Receptionist seems okay with that. Whew!

We see the nurse practitioner. She says he has first-degree burns and she's actually seen worse. She gave us an antibiotic ointment and wrapped it.

I will skip the details here because I love Ben and don't want to embarrass him. But it took three of us, a sucker and ahem - physical restraint to bandage that hand.

Now it's in blue vet wrap (I don't know what they call it in people, but in the veterinary world it's vet wrap) and we call it his paw or mitten. Ben shortened it to mitt and that seems to be sticking.

I got home at 6:00 pm, finished supper, put the kids to bed and then got started on payroll (what I had planned on doing at work that day.)

I finished at midnight only to realize my only clean shirt option had pawprints. Sigh.

But, as I tell Benny, let's count our blessings:
1. Ben's hand looks really good today and he isn't in near as much pain.
2. We're past the tummy bug and I didn't get it!
3. At least I had one shirt left :)
4. The scary cat sweatshirt doesn't seem to have sent Chuck running for the hills.

God is good and I wouldn't trade a single pukey moment with these three! I love them.

My sweet little family. 

My brethern, count it all joy when ye fall into many afflictions;
Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.
But let patience have its perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing. 
James 1:2-4

* I would like to note that I do not consider this experience as an actual "affliction", but it definitely did work to teach me patience - at least a little more than before.

Susanna's Milestone

Spunky Susanna riding a pony at the Kansas State Fair.

Little Miss Susanna is 17 months old and hit a milestone that is too funny to forget.

Tonight we were in the middle of our family worship when she asked, "Cup. Cup. Cup."

I told her, "You want a cup. Let's sing first and then we'll get a cup."

She looked me in the eye and said, "Noooooo." It wasn't rude, simply factual. It seemed like she was saying, "No. You get me a cup now."

Sigh. My dad has been telling me for over a year that Susanna is going to be a handful. Once I asked him when I should start worrying and he said, "Now! Start right now!"

Oh, Little Miss. You are such a spunky, sweet little girl. You are so full of love and we enjoy your hugs and kisses every day and - I'll speak for myself here - I enjoy your sassy take-no-prisoners attitude. You are a beautiful little blessing of a daughter and I'm glad you're mine.

Happy Birthday

Tomorrow is the day anniversary of the day we were given the biggest decision of our lives. After four days of mixed message from doctors and nurses at St. Luke's, we were told that my mom's stroke was serious. It happened right in the smack middle of her brain leaving her paralyzed, unable to speak, unable to even stop her saliva from going into her lungs.

Her doctor called a family meeting and at 2:00 on July 14, 2011 she told us that she believed my mom would never regain any function. With time and physical therapy she would be able to blink once for yes and twice for no. The doctor thought she was "locked in" - intellectually in-tack, simply unable to move or speak. She said, "You don't have to make the decision now, but withdrawing support is an option."

We asked a few questions, and in less than 15 had a unanimous decision. We all knew that my vibrant mother would never want to lived "locked in". We all knew that given the choice, she'd choose to see Jesus. We decided that Dad would tell her and that we'd make the change the next morning.

I wonder what Dad said to her. He told me that he wanted her to have one more sunrise. I wonder how sunrises look in heaven. The nurses said they would skip some of their overnight vital checks so she could have a good night's sleep. I wonder how well anyone could sleep knowing they were going to die tomorrow.

I've only seen three people actually dying. One looked excited, like she couldn't wait to go. One looked scared. She seemed lost somewhere between this world and the next. My mom looked peaceful. Honestly, she looked like the dogs and cats at the clinic. She looked like she knew where she was going, that it was going to hurt, but she would dig in and do it.

Thirty years ago, she was sort of in the same situation. She was in labor with me. Because my parents didn't have health insurance, my mom opted for a home birth. When I was facing labor with Ben, she told me, "You just have dig down and do it." I have never been nearly as tough as my mom.

At her visitation, a couple came up to me and told me their version of my birthday. They said they were signed up to bring a meal that evening and when they knocked my mom answered to door - she was wearing white shorts and bubbly. They were surprised to see her up and about, but she said, "Come on in. Jack and Jackie are sleeping - they're exhausted, but I just got done cleaning the house."

I believe that my birthday was one of the best days of my mom's life. She told me she wanted me. She told me the first time she felt me move was on Valentine's Day. She was laying on her bed reading and felt my first flutters and thought it was such a sweet Valentine. Every single day of my life, I felt my mom's unconditional love.

I also believe that the day my mom went home to Jesus, was unequivocally very best day of her life.

On that Friday morning, I sang camp songs to my mom. She looked like she was sleeping, but as I finished the last verse of For Those Tears I Died, I started crying and so did Mom.

You said you'd come and share all my sorrows 
You said you'd be there for all my tomorrows 
I came so close to sending you away 
But just like you promised, you came here to stay 
I just had to pray 



Chorus And Jesus said, "Come to the water, stand by my side
I know you are thirsty, you won't be denied 
I felt every tear drop, when in darkness you cried 
And I strove to remind you, It's for those tears I died" 


Your goodness so great, I can't understand it 
And dear Lord I know now that all this was planned 
I know You're here now and always will be 
Your love loosened my chains, and in You I'm free But Jesus why me? 


Chorus 


Jesus I give You, my heart and my soul 
I know now without God, I'll never be whole 
Savior, You opened all the right doors 
And I thank You and praise You from earth's humble shores Take me I'm Yours! 

Somewhere around 9:30, we stepped out of her and they unhooked all the machines. With all the tubes gone, Mom's lips were cracked and bleeding. Her face was bruised and swollen. My dad told her she was beautiful. 

We listened to Michael Card (one of her favorite artists), held her hands, prayed and gave her our blessing. The day was long, but Mom worked diligently. Around 5:00, my dad and brother took Mom's hands and began to pray. I started singing God Be With Till We Meet Again and Mom took her last breath.

A dear friend told me that my mom and I sort of share a birthday, only her's is an eternal birthday. I guess that seems true and sweet for someone I love so much. So Mom, I wish you a very happy eternal birthday. I love you dearly. Till we meet again.

An Anniversary...

Tomorrow is the anniversary of my mom’s stroke and as this day has been approaching, I’ve been reliving last year’s events. My heart has been anxious and honestly, I’ve been dreading this time.

It sort of feels like you’re watching a movie you’ve seen a dozens times before and you know that it’s sad. You know you’ll cry, but you keep watching. I wake up early and run this movie in my mind over and over again.

On July 9th last year, I drove Ben and Susanna to a splash park on the west side of Independence and talked with my mom on the way. She was cleaning her back porch and she was talking about how much she loved her family. We said goodbye and I love you and I headed to the fountains.

An hour and half later my dad called me and said, “You’re mom had a stroke. We think she’s ok.  She’s in an ambulance on its way to Centerpoint.”

I was frantic, it took me twice as long to pack up my kids as it usually does and Danielle offered to keep Ben. I took Susanna to the hospital and found a welcoming committee including my long-lost Uncle Chris, and many of Mom’s friends from church.

We went back two at a time and I watched mom “recover”. She went from out-of-it and slurring her words to her normal self.

They said she might have had heat stroke, or a TSA and they’d keep her overnight. She was moved to room and talking with a doctor before I left for the evening. She seemed fine. She was holding a pink teddy bear and even made a joke that the bear had a bad leg and needed treatment too.

When I came back that night, she was writhing, moaning and had totally lost control of her body. Her right side would go limp and her left side jerk. She’d say, “My tongue feels funny.” And “I’m having a stroke.”

We watched her writhe for five hours before they finally gave her morphine. We asked for blood thinners and they said no it might cause more problems.

The next morning, a Sunday, I took Susanna back to the hospital and was coming in when they were wheeling Mom out for another MRI. I picked up my mom’s Book of Mormon and opened it to page 450, thinking I’d read to Susanna. This is what I read:

The soul shall be restored to the body, and the body to the soul; yea,
and every limb and joint shall be restored to its body; yea, even a
hair of the had shall not be lost, but all things shall be restored to
their proper and perfect frame. Alma 19:58

At that moment, I knew that God would totally and completely heal my mom… on His side of the veil. At the time, I honestly thought she would not walk again or would lose control of some of her speech, I had no idea that I would lose all of her.

I asked her doctor to look at her again while she having an “episode”. He said that she was just having an anxiety attack and ordered a psychiatrist for Monday morning. Looking back, that was a total waste because by 7:00 pm that night, my mom would never speak again.

The day progressed and they continued to not treat her. She basically had a fatal stroke in a hospital as an entire staff, her family and friends watched. I feel like I let my mom down so badly. When the
doctor said not to give blood thinners because it could cause other problems, my mind was screaming, “No! She needs this.” When the doctor said she was having an anxiety attack, I knew that wasn’t true.

But at the same time, I honestly feel like this was God’s will for her life. Every single person who is born will someday drink from that bitter cup and I truly believe my mom’s earthly work was complete and it was time for her to graduate.



And as it is appointed unto men once to die… Hebrews 9:27

This is harder than I thought it would be. I don’t think I can write everything all at once. There were seven days between when my mom first had her stroke and when she passed away. In the scriptures, seven means completion.

Hmmm.... What to Wear?

Today is a red-letter day for Susanna. She picked out her clothes for the first time. Whoo hoo!

I pulled a pair of purple shorts out of her drawer and she grabbed them out of my hand and threw them back. Then she dive-bombed for a white tank with fruit artwork.

I asked her, "Do you want to wear this today?" And she clutched the tank grinning. I took that as a yes and off we went.

Great choice Susanna. You are adorable. 

I'm equal parts proud and scared. I love how confident she is and how much she knows her own mind. She never second guesses a decision and it's fun to be around a person like that.

However, she never second guesses a decision, even if Mommy says no. I know it's just a matter of time before we have some true battles of will. I just hope I'm tougher than she is. Sometimes I'm not sure.