Our 2012 Family Pictures

 

This year I really struggled with family pictures.  I know, not a major crisis, I should be able to let that one go.  But it's the little things.  The little things that are hard.  The little things, little milestones that bring healing.  This milestone was family pictures.  I saw it coming a mile away.  I do family pictures every year.  I love having family pictures taken.  I love coordinating just the right outfits and colors.  I love choosing a location that we haven't done before.  I love our fantastic photographer (who happens to be my lovely and talented niece Amanda).  I love comparing how my kids have grown from year to year.  I love the anticipation waiting for the CD to come so I can pick my favorites and plan Christmas cards.  Christmas cards.  Another little thing.  Another hard thing.  This year has had many of those.  I always send Christmas cards.  I love sending them, I love getting them, I always do Christmas cards.  And so I have been torn.  For months I have debated not doing them, just skipping over the whole season and getting through it.  But that's not me.  That's just one more thing about all this that makes me feel less like me.  And so I resolved to do them.  I would make them work, and I would put my heart into making them perfect (keeping in mind that when you are working with children, one of whom is 2-years-old, 'perfect' is a relative term :).  I tried.  I ordered fabric, planned the perfect outfits to make for my girls, coordinated everyone else's outfits around theirs.  Nothing.  No excitement.  Just that constant reminder that something's missing.  So I decided to try using my creative side to make it work.  I WANTED more than anything a complete family picture.  I only have one, and if you have seen it you know that it's far from perfect.  I treasure it, but it was the day after Miles' passing while we were still in the hospital.  I hadn't showered, my eyes were almost swollen shut, it was awful.  And it was all I had.  I have seen photos done with big chunky frames as props, so I thought I would try doing that, then photoshop my favorite picture of Miles into the frame.  There it was.  A little bit of peace.  But what if it didn't work?  There had to be something more.  I had heard so many suggestions for symbolic things in family pictures; teddy bears, a certain color that you wear every year, etc.  None of them were me.  While at my kids' primary program practice a week before our pictures I was talking to a cute friend in my ward.  Somehow we got on the subject (and bawled like babies), and she said she had a pocketwatch necklace that would be cool, I could find one like it and set it to the time of his birth, with a photo of him inside of it.  It was perfect, and I immediately loved the idea.  I knew just the right people to make it happen, the lovely ladies at Rusted Pearl.  They were fantastic, and did everything to make it look just the way I wanted, and have it done on such short notice.  The pocketwatch idea was perfect.  Subtle, symbolic, timeless, and can easily be incorporated into family pictures for years to come.  It was just what I needed.  A little more peace.  There is no way to bring him back.  No way to make our family pictures complete.  But little things bring healing.  We all wore something that was a little reminder of Miles.  And doing it, trying, doing something hard, it brought a little bit of peace, and a little more strength.  Of course, I find peace in knowing that someday we WILL all be together again.  Someday I will again have a fullness of joy.  But for now it's the little things. 

 (below) A closeup of my pocketwatch necklace open. Yes, after all that, I forgot to set it to 5:12, the time of his birth. I am going to have to re-do just those few closeups... ooops 

(below) I made the girls' outfits and Mason's tie. They all have my Miles & Me tags in them

(below) Where would I be without this guy!

(below) and them!  They are the cutest, I am so grateful to be their mom!

(below) I couldn't resist including this picture of Maylee.  It makes me laugh every time I see it.  She was trying SO hard to force a smile, it was painful :)  Love her!

 

bittersweet.

It seems that is the term I use to describe most things in life lately. Bittersweet. First, let me back up and apologize for my lack of posts lately, it has been a rough few months, and I haven't had anything great to write about. To be honest, I feel like our family blog has turned into my venting place for dealing with my grief. I like the way a fellow angel mom described it, she said (paraphrasing) that it's not all about her grief, but it's a blog about their lives, and their lives are intertwined with grief. That's how it is. It's a part of our lives. There are good things, so many good things, in our life. We are happy and enjoy famiy time and fun activities, and can put aside our grief for awhile, but it's always there in the background. The fun times are so busy and fun, I often don't have the time to stop and write about them. The times that I write are the times when I have something weighing on my mind and need to get it out. That's why it seems that's all I write about on my blog. I just don't want it to seem like it's consuming, it's not. We are happy, and life is good.

That being said, it IS always in the background. Every happy time is just a little bit bittersweet. There is always just a little something missing. Today is McKinley's 8th birthday. Today we celebrated the day that we brought our first baby into the world. We reminisced about that day and joked about how we were so young and had no idea what we were doing. It worked out just fine :). McKinley is an amazing young lady. She is strong, smart, driven, and talented in so many ways. She has chosen to be baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. We are so very proud of her decision. She is an amazing example to us and to her friends. One of today's activities was to bring treats to her class at school and to read with them. McKinley picked her book, one I had read to her once, and informed me that she wanted to read it to her class, rather than have me read it. That turned out to be a huge blessing. The book she read was one a friend had given us after Miles' passing. It talked about remembering those we have lost and looking forward to seeing them again. As she read I remembered why I had only read that book to her once. Blinking back tears I listened as she read. She read beautifully, she is so much stronger than I am. She shared that it is her favorite book because it reminds her of her brother Miles. We did treats with her class, then Mason, Maylee, and I went home to finish birthday preparations while we waited for Kinley to get home from school. As I put the finishing touches on a couple of her birthday presents, I thought back to her last birthday. Then the emotions of earlier came back, and I realized why I had been fighting back tears all day. I remember my excitement last year as I dropped her off at school and left Mason and Maylee with a friend so I could go to my first prenatal appointment. I was a little over 10 weeks along, and couldn't wait to hear this baby's heartbeat. Only Matt and I knew that I was pregnant. I hadn't wanted to tell anyone for a few more weeks, I wanted to make sure everything was okay before we shared our exciting 'secret.' Everything was great, and the doctor sent me home with ultrasound images of our tiny little peanut. I rushed home after, finished setting up for Kinley's party, and the rest of the day I was on cloud 9. After her friends had left, McKinley noticed my ultrasound pictures sitting on the desk in the kitchen. Her teacher (who was due just a few weeks before me) had just announced to her class that she was pregnant, and had apparently shown them her ultrasound pictures. When McKinley saw mine, she said 'Mom, is this Mrs. Wride's baby?' I laughed, then brushed it off, saying 'no.' Then her eyes got big, and she said, 'wait, is this your baby?!?' I was so caught off guard that she had put that together, I could do nothing but stutter for a minute, then say 'yes.' They were all so excited, it was so much fun to celebrate that moment together on McKinley's birthday. Since our kids knew, we figured we might as well tell the world. We announced it to our family and friends that night. That was the night that we wanted to shout from the rooftops that even though I had said we were done after baby #3, we were having one more baby. One year ago. It didn't even occur to me until this afternoon as I finished up birthday plans the significance of one year ago today. That's how it is. It sneaks up on me sometimes. Like today. Today we are celebrating the birth of our oldest child, but at the very same time, in the background, mourning for what should have been. Our lives are intertwined with grief, and so many of our happy times are bittersweet.

Four.

In a conversation with a family member the other day I was lamenting the fact that I only have a few months left of my 20's (although 30 suddenly doesn't seem nearly as old as it used to :) It was a light conversation, and she encouragingly replied 'but look, you have 3 kids, and you aren't even 30.' I looked away as I held my tongue and blinked back tears and in my mind silently corrected her. Four. I have four kids. She didn't realize what she had said, she couldn't know how it stung. It wasn't her fault. And so I said nothing. There are so many hard things, but feeling like little Miles is forgotten, like the world has moved on without him, that is the hardest.

4 months. And yes, we are still alive.

Today Miles would be 4 months old. Time goes by, and we are so busy, but there is not a single minute of a day that I don't think about him. I never actually knew that was possible. Miles has taught me that many things I never thought were possible are in fact very possible. That being said, this milestone kind-of snuck up on me. Usually I know the 1st is coming, and I am counting days, and I know it will be another milestone, and another hard day. Not this time. This one I started my busy day, then Mason asked if today was August 1st (he is counting the says until his birthday on the 12th). I thought for a minute, then realized it was and said 'yes.' Then it clicked. Oh. It's the 1st. Miles would be 4 months old today. He would be rolling over, and smiling, and cooing, and entering my favorite baby stage. And there it is again. The aching feeling, knowing how it should be. Not wishing to change it, but still wishing he could be here. Even for a little while.  And I don't know what it means that I stopped constantly counting the days. I don't know when I stopped, but I must have stopped, because this one snuck up on me. Does that mean I am starting to let go? Do I even want to? These are the mixed-up thoughts and emotions that nobody can prepare you for, or answer for you. All I can do is pray for peace and the strength to accept things as they are. It helps that right now things are so busy. We have been in and out of town and enjoying our summer - which has unfortunately allowed little time for blogging, we have barely had time to breathe. But, we are here, alive (despite the lack of breathing :), and happy and healthy. We are taking advantage of every day we have and loving us some hot summer weather. Happy 4-months Miles, we love you always.

the hard part

I met my neice's sweet new baby Ella Mae last night.  She is one week old, and just the most beautiful and perfect little princess that I have ever seen. I knew coming to California that I would see her, and I was so excited to finally meet her. I knew it would be hard. I held her and snuggled her and loved every minute of her sweet newborn-ness. She was so tiny and fresh from heaven, holding her brought back all of the emotions that I felt holding little Miles the day he was born. No, holding her wasn't hard, it was so natural and felt so right. I could have held her and loved on her for days.  That wasn't the hard part. The hard part came when it was time to go and I had to give her back. And my arms were empty again. The hard part was leaving her in her mother's arms and looking back, longing and thinking that's how it should be.

faith in God

includes faith in His timing.

{sidenote: this is a very personal post, so be nice.  I share some of the things that I have felt in hopes that it might help others who are going through trials as well}

Today is July 1st. Today marks 3 months from the day we lost our little Miles, and 2 years from the day we lost Matt's sweet dad. 2 years ago today the first of a series of unimaginable events began. I vividly recall getting that phonecall while on vacation with the entire family at the Newport Coast Villas. I remember frantically trying to find a flight for Matt and his sisters to get home in time. I remember the anxiety we felt as we all waited to hear if they had made it in time, not fully accepting that his time had really come, still sure that he would pull through yet again. I remember the emotion and tears that were shared (in a hot tub) as we all received the news together that he was really gone. I remember 2 years ago today like it was yesterday. When we first found out we were pregnant with Miles, we considered it our 'rainbow,' our happy miracle after the storm that we had come through. When we found that he would have some health concerns, we held onto that hope. After all, with all we had been through losing both of Matt's parents so close together, and so recently, the Lord wouldn't put us through this as well. When he was born and the doctors weren't very hopeful, I continued to hold onto that hope. After Miles passed on, I will admit that part of me was a little hurt and angry that the Lord would do this to us. He could move mountains, why couldn't this be our miracle that we so needed. I resolved that there must be some purpose, and I wasn't going to be hurt and angry, I was just going to trust in the Lord and begin to heal from yet another loss. As the months have passed, I can begin to see. It had to be this way. We had to go through those trials to get through this one. For many reasons, but mostly for our marriage and for our eternal family. Matt was very close to his parents, and losing them was incomprehensible. It couldn't happen. And then it did. Within 2 1/2 months. But he somehow seemed to be fine. I can remember asking him in the weeks and months following their passing if he was okay, if he wanted to talk about anything, if he even FELT anything, he seemed to be too okay. I would cry at the mention of their names, yet he seemed to go on like nothing had happened. He would just tell me he was dealing with it in his way. I realized that when I paid attention I could see it. He called his dad's cell phone just to hear his voice, only to find it had been disconnected. He kept the cd recording from his funeral in his truck for months (I think it's still there). That wasn't just an oversight, he wanted it there. He loved his parents very dearly, and he missed them, but he just didn't feel the need to talk about his feelings very often. After Miles' passing I had the same thoughts and feelings (only, of course they were a little different, this was our baby, our son, a life that was never even lived), but the process was the same. The crushing grief, constant flow of tears, and that emptiness at every turn. And wondering if my husband even felt the loss. He seemed okay. Too okay. The loss of a child is often followed by marital turmoil and even divorce. I now can see why. Each person grieves differently, and it is hard to understand that. Not understanding your spouse's process easily begins to build resent, build up walls and create distance, and the harbor feelings that they didn't even care. But every time that I would feel that anger and resent creep in, I would remind myself that he is greiving too. Rather than withdraw in frustration and hurt, I talk to him and tell him how I am feeling, even if he doesn't ask. I know he won't, I know that's just how he is. He occasionally shares thoughts that he has had about Miles. One day after practicing baseball with Mason he said he just kept thinking he should be looking forward to doing this with Miles, too. I know he is grieving, just in his own way. I know that because we have been here. I know this is just how he does it. Had we not just been through this process, I would not have understood that. I know that the Lord knows me better than I know myself. That knowledge has brought peace at a time of unimaginable pain. Rather than viewing the series of recent events as being forgotten and forsaken, I know without a doubt that the trials preceeding Miles' passing were a blessing. I know that we needed to go through them to know that we could make it through this. That knowledge and hindsight reaffirms my faith in our loving Heavenly Father, and especially faith in His timing, infinite wisedom, and plan for me. On this anniversary as we remember Frank and little Miles, I give thanks to the Lord for the time that we had with them, however short, and I look forward to the day when we will see them again.

 (above) Mason loved trimming the grass and pulling the few weeds around the headstones

(above) McKinley carefully cleaned the headstones - Maylee usually 'helps' too, but she fell asleep on the way up, so we let her stay asleep this time :)

 (above) I love the view from Grandma and Grandpa and Miles' graves, we like to clean up, bring flowers, and make it look pretty and clean, but we also love to just sit and talk and feel close to our little guy and Grandma and Grandpa.

 (above) after the cemetery we went to visit family for the rest of the day - my kids love their cousins!

 (above) more cousin love

 (above) Uncle Greggy :)

(above) cousin time!

parade and random saturday stuff

AH, I am the WORST at remembering to take pictures!  My girls were dressed in cute 4th of July outfits today and I totally forgot to make them pose for photos, so these are the best we have :)  Last night was our ward's Fathers and Son's camp-out.  Mason and Matt had a blast, they planned their little camping trip all week long.  Matt bought treats, they went to Cabela's to pick up some new camping gear, and enjoyed every minute of it.  When they got there Mason helped Matt set up the tent, they explored and played, and the men did a push-up challenge contest (figures :).  While the boys were gone we did girly things around here :).  We helped a friend decorate her daughter's room, babysat my friend Natalie's cute twins, and then had some cute friends over for a little ice cream party.  Afterwards we watched Soul Surfer and stayed up until 11.  The girls thought it was so great.  Then we got up this morning and dresesed in our 4th of July best :) to go to the Lehi Parade - another highlight that might become a tradition.  They loved the floats, bands, and dancers, and they scored TONS of candy and little prizes :).  Such a fun morning. 

Tonight we got a babysitter and went to dinner at Tsunami (first ever Sushi experience, LOVED it!) with our cute friends.  While we were eating, Shelly (yes, THE Shelly from The House of Smith's) walked in with her family and was seated at the table RIGHT next to us.  My friend Lindsay and I were totally startstruck, giggling like little teenage girls that there was a celebrity sitting next to us (our husbands had no idea what was going on and why we were all excited :).  As we walked out we sucked up enought courage to say 'hi' and tell her we loved her blog.  She was so super cute and nice, totally loved her!  Yep, that's my new claim to fame, I met the famous blogger Shelly (pretty much want to be her when I grow up).  Anyhow, that was our Saturday, pretty exciting (I know, not really, but remember how this is a journal?  It was exciting to me! :)

saying it doesn't get easier

As time passes, some things get easier.  Saying he is gone just doesn't.  I was in my home office working this afternoon when I got a random call from IHC.  The caller explained that she was conducting their maternity care follow-up survey, and so I began tentatively answering the interviewer's question, not sure where this call was going.  She asked my delivery date, what type of delivery, where I delivered, what we named our baby, etc.  Then she asked how much he weighed at birth.  I answered 3 1/2 lbs.  She was surprised and asked how he is doing and if he was in the NICU.  I could barely manage through my sudden rush of tears to choke out 'he passed away a few hours after he was born.'  The interviewer was sweet, offered her condolences and apologized for not knowing before her call, then kindly said she would just close the interview and not finish the questions.  I managed a barely audible 'thank you,' and we hung up the phone.  I sat there and just cried.  For some reason I can think of him and the joy we had holding him, I can wistfully wish he was here, I can talk about him, tell his story, compare his red hair and cute features to my other kids in conversation, and talk to my kids about him and not fall apart most of the time. Having to admit he is gone, having to say it out loud, having to feel by eyes burn and well with tears as I tell a new person that I lost my baby, that part just doesn't get easier.

Mason

This kid totally cracks me up. Seriously. He is pretty quiet, but hillarious at the same time. He is so excited to start Kindergarten in the fall. He has been doing karate and baseball, and LOVES them both. He is not afraid to get out there and play hard and try something new, and he doesn't let other kids' attitudes bug him. He is just an easy kid. He is so proud of his karate belt. He recently earned his first stripe, he loves that he is getting 'closer' to his black belt :) I am looking forward to him moving on to ANYTHING but his white belt. Seriously, who puts a white belt on 5-year-old boys and expects it to stay clean?!!? I mean, the uniform is white too, but I bleach that regularly. Apparently you can't wash the belt though, or you lose all of your knowledge that you have gained in class (?). Really? So they white each other with them, use them as lassos, and hold them in their dirty little hands, and these white belts get filthy. I am SOOO tempted just to toss it in the wash 'on accident' and not tell him... nobody would know, right? :) Haha, anyway, I just love that kid, I wish I could keep him at 5-years-old forever (but he reminds me every day that he will be 6 in just 2 months, oh, time is going too fast)!

(above) playing in the 'rainbow' bathroom - he thought the rainbow prism 'mohawk' was pretty funny :)

 (above) the gross white belt :)  The pic doesn't do it justice, it really is so dirty!

 (above) Mason practicing his karate moves :) 

 (above) stealth ninja moves :)

(above) such a Matt face, he is every bit his daddy's boy!

you can't come out unchanged.

"And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive.  You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over.  But one thing is certain.  When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in."

I can't say the storm is over yet, but I can say that I am not the same, Miles has changed my life in ways I couldn't have ever imagined. 

unlikely comfort

I have always had a paralyzing fear of spiders.  Like deathly afraid, can't even move when I see one.  When I was about 10 years old, I remember sitting on the floor in the kitchen putting away pots and pans, when I happened to look up and see a big black spider crawling up the wall.  It FREAKED me out!  I started to panic and yelled for someone to come kill it.  Nobody was all that concerned, this was a usual occurrence, and it was usually a teeny little spider or a 'harmless' daddy long-legs (I don't care how many times people tell me they are harmless, they CREEP me out!).  Anyhow, my mom told me to just squish it.  Nobody was coming and it was getting away, and if it got away who knows WHERE it would go... probably straight to my bed or something... so I made a pathetic attempt to kill it.  I swatted at it with a dishtowel just hard enough to knock it off of the wall and flip it upside down onto the kitchen floor.  Underneath on it's belly was the telltale red hourglass.  My biggest fear, a black widow.  I froze as it scurried under the kitchen cabinets where I had no hope of anyone killing it for me.  I was an anxious mess the rest of the day.  I couldn't focus, I couldn't calm down, and I couldn't even imagine going to sleep with that thing wandering the house.  Nothing my mom said could make it better.  Finally when my dad came home, my mom had had enough and told my dad to tell me to knock it off, I was being ridiculous.  He asked what I had seen, and I told him.  He told me he couldn't do anything, that it was long gone.  What he said next has always stuck with me.  He said, "well, I don't know what you are panicking about, there are tons more of them in this house, I have seen plenty of them in the attic."  I know, it sounds strange, but for some reason that was comforting to me.  There are tons of other ones out there, and they haven't killed me yet, so this one probably wouldn't either.  That was all I needed to calm down and let go.  And yes, I did sleep that night.  So how does this story relate to my life right now?  I don't know if it really does, but I tell you that story to tell you another.  A couple of weeks after Miles' passing I received a letter from a close friend's mother-in-law who had lost a baby a little over 40 years ago.  She shared her feelings and experiences, and said that she to this day still thinks of him, and still misses him.  My first thought was 'really, in 40 years I am still going to feel like this, it's never going to go away?'  But just like the with the spider, it brought an unlikely feeling of comfort and peace.  She had made it 40 years, and she was happy and had a good life, and it hadn't killed her yet.  There are plenty more years of pain and grief ahead, but knowing that they are out there and that they are survivable has brought comfort.

it happened

Tonight I was doing the dishes and watching my cute kids play tag and push each other around on ride-on toys on the deck.  They were up way past their bedtime and enjoying every minute of it, giggling and playing and being just so cute.  I smiled to myself as I watched them, and then I wistfully thought about Miles.  I got that same feeling, that tugging on my heart, that constant awareness that someone is missing.  It happens all of the time.  But this time it was different.  I didn't cry.  I imagined him out there playing with his siblings, just as I have so many times, but that was it.  No tears.  Just a wistful sigh, and then I finished what I was doing and called the kids in to get ready for bed.  I didn't know how I would feel when it happened, when that moment came that I thought about him in that way, but didn't cry.  I didn't know when it would happen, or if, but it did.  It was small, but it was something.  It was evidence that my heart will heal, and I will always be able to keep him a part of my life and think about him, but it won't always hurt so bad.  It was only a small moment, and there have been many tears at other moments since, but it gave me hope.

Father's Day

We are so grateful for all of the fathers in our lives.  Today I am especially grateful for Matt for being such a wonderful father to our kiddos.  He is my other half, my partner in crime, and he makes up for what I lack.  He loves spending time with the kids, and they eat up every second of attention they can get from him.  They were so excited for their Father's Day project/present.  I had seen this idea on Pinterest and I knew they would get a kick out of it.  I pulled out a white shirt and some fabric markers for the kids in the craft room (with the door shut so dad couldn't peek :) and explained to the kids that we were going to make a 'back rub' shirt for Dad.  I drew roads and buildings on it where they told me to, then they spent the next several hours (seriously) coloring it in and making it perfect for Daddy.  It comes complete with a racetrack, road signs, water feature, park, garage, carwash, and baseball field (of course). They were so excited, and SO proud of it!   

And of course, Daddy loved it! They thought the placement of the Gas Station on his lower back/bum was hilarious :)

Now whenever Dad wants a backrub, all he has to do is put on his special shirt and the kids will go to town (literally :) getting it done! :)

learning to play differently

I read this on a friend's blog right after Miles' passing.  I had forgotten about it until a dear friend (who also reads the blog I mentioned) typed it up on pretty paper and gave it to me to put in Miles' little box of keepsakes.  She also gave me a set of music note charms to put on my keychain to remind me of this analogy, and to remind me that it is okay to feel the deep pain of his loss, and to want to feel it, but it is also possible and okay to move on. 

My address is titled "The Myth of Getting Over It." It's my attempt to answer the driving questions of grieving parents: When will I get over this? How do I get over this?

You don't get over it. Getting over it is an inappropriate goal. An unreasonable hope. The loss of a child changes you. It changes your marriage. It changes the way birds sing. It changes the way the sun rises and sets. You are forever different.

You don't want to get over it. Don't act surprised. As awful a burden as grief is, you know intuitively that it matters, that it is profoundly important to be grieving. Your grief plays a crucial part in staying connected to your child's life. To give up your grief would mean losing your child yet again. If I had the power to take your grief away, you'd fight me to keep it. Your grief is awful, but it is also holy. And somewhere inside you, you know that.

The goal is not to get over it. The goal is to get on with it.

Profound grief is like being in a stage play wherein suddenly the stagehands push a huge grand piano into the middle of the set. The piano paralyzes the play. It dominates the stage. No matter where you move, it impedes your sight lines, your blocking, your ability to interact with the other players. You keep banging into it, surprised each time that it's still there. It takes all your concentration to work around it, this at a time when you have little ability or desire to concentrate on anything.

The piano changes everything. The entire play must be rewritten around it.

But over time the piano is pushed to stage left. Then to upper stage left. You are the playwright, and slowly, surely, you begin to find the impetus and wherewithal to stop reacting to the intrusive piano. Instead, you engage it. Instead of writing every scene around the piano, you begin to write the piano into each scene, into the story of your life.

You learn to play that piano. You're surprised to find that you want to play, that it's meaningful, even peaceful to play it. At first your songs are filled with pain, bitterness, even despair. But later you find your songs contain beauty, peace, a greater capacity for love and compassion. You and grief -- together -- begin to compose hope. Who'da thought?

Your grief becomes an intimate treasure, though the spaces between the grief lengthen. You no longer need to play the piano every day, or even every month. But later, when you're 84, staring out your kitchen window on a random Tuesday morning, you welcome the sigh, the tears, the wistful pain that moves through your heart and reminds you that your child's life mattered.

You wipe the dust off the piano and sit down to play.

********

Feb. 26, 2006

Copyright © Las Vegas Review-Journal

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Clear View Counseling and Wellness Center in Las Vegas

we do not doubt that our mothers knew it

"And they rehearsed unto me the words of their mothers, saying: We do not doubt our mothers knew it." -Alma 56:48

I mentioned that I have decided to treat this blog more like a journal. I have decided to keep it public (I don't publish the very personal entries, those will go in my personal printed version), however the things I write are the things that I want my children to read, the things I want them to know, the things I want them to know that their mother knew. Life doesn't always happen as planned, and I have no idea what waits around the corner for us, but I want to know that my children will know what is important to me, even if I am not very good at expressing it. I want them to know that they mean the world to me. Their safety, their health, and their happiness are the most important things to me. I want them to know that I love them, that I will always love them, no matter what. I want them to talk to me, to share their hopes and dreams with me. I want them to really know me, and I want to really know them. I want them to know that I love their father, and that the day I married him was the greatest day and best decision of my life. I want them to understand that that doesn't mean it's always perfect, we are both still human and we aren't perfect people (not by a longshot), but we love each other enough to rise above our imperfections. I want them to know that I love the gospel. I am still learning and growing in my knowledge and understanding of gospel principles, but I am so grateful for the gospel and the peace it brings. More than anything, I want them to know that I love the Lord and I love my Savior. I trust in the Lord, and try my hardest to know and understand and accept His will. I want them to know that I have a testimony of the power of  the atonement. I know that we can be cleansed of our imperfections, and if we try our very hardest, the Lord can help to make up what we lack. I want my children to know these things and understand them for themselves. And I want them to be able to say as the 2000 stripling warriors did that they do not doubt their mother knew it.  I want to be that kind of mother.

a day in the life

Where did my stay-at-home mom life with one little baby to take care of go? Seriously! I love my life, but it can get BUSY! Today we got up early to go yard sale-ing :) -okay, that wasn't necessary, but so much fun. My kids totally loved it, they each got to use their money to buy one thing. Of course it was a junky old toy, but hey, they spent like 75 cents, and were so proud of their purchase that they entertained themselves the rest of the day :) Seriously, they were so exciting to go yard sale hunting with me, it was like Christmas morning. Anyway, after we were done I had to run to Hobby Lobby on the way home for some more YUDU ink since I ran out (PS - I am NOT a YUDU fan, I will be putting that on KSL this week, total waste of money). When we got home I had to finish screen printing all of the shirts for our upcoming girl's camp (nothing like waiting 'till the last minute, I need to get them to the camp director by tomorrow :). I finished those, then put Maylee down for a nap while I went out into the garage to finish painting her dresser - I am determined to get it done and in her room before I leave for camp early Wednesday morning! Her nursery has been sad, empty, and unfinished since we moved in because I had decided to do a boy room in it for Miles. Now that I don't need a room for Miles, I just want to finish Maylee's room and make it stinkin cute (and I had already bought fabrics and cute things for her room before we moved in and found out I was pregnant, so I might as well use them :). WELL, while I was out in the garage, Maylee decided to put her newly aquired crib escaping skills to work (I knew she could climb out, so I made sure there was nothing on her floor, and I shut her closet doors before I left her room, and I had put a child lock on her doorknob so she couldn't get out of her room. Yes, I am mean. Judge me if you will, it's all about survival!). Anyhow, she went down pretty well, and although I could hear her little feet running around for a little bit, she was pretty quiet, and finally she stopped running around, so I assumed she was asleep (and there was no noise on the monitor). About 30 minutes later she woke up crying and cranky, which isn't normal for her, she usually wakes up happy and talking. I sent Matt in to get her since I was heat-setting the freshly screened camp shirts. I heard him say 'oh no, what did you do!?!?' when he opened her bedroom door. NOT a good sign. I walked down the hall and ran into him carrying Maylee with his arms stretched out holding her as far away from him as possible. He had found her buck naked :), and covered in grease head to toe. Then it hit me. I had a jar of Vaseline on a shelf in Maylee's closet behind a box of diapers. It was the ONLY thing in her entire room that she could have gotten into, and my little monkey found it. Crap. Have you ever had to clean up Vaseline? Not fun. She had smeared gobs of it in her hair, all over her body, on her clothes that she had removed, all over her floor (which luckily is bamboo, if it was carpet it would have been ruined), on spots on her ADORABLE yellow mandala print wool rug from West Elm (yeah, just wait until her room is done, it's going to be rediculously cute. At least I think so :), on the walls, the door, her baby doll, her crib, her blankets, her antique rocking chair, EVERYWHERE! I scrubbed and scrubbed at it while Matt showered her and washed her hair over and over. While I scrubbed I also called poison control (yep, mom of the year) since she had been alone in her room and I didn't know if she had tried to eat it. They told me it was fine, she likely didn't swallow it, but if she did it would just grease up her digestive system for a few days, not anything to worry about. After lots of scrubbing I got most of it off of the walls and floor and rug, and gathered up all of the clothes, blankets, and baby doll and threw them in the washing machine (I had googled it, as long as I used extra detergent and washed them several times on hot, it was okay to run them through the wash. I did the sanitize cycle - a 2-hour cycle - 3 times, and it worked. Thank goodness). Her hair was another story. After about 4 washes with hot water and dish soap it still looked awful, like grease coated dreadlocks. Sick. I googled again and read that olive oil and dish soap would do the trick. We put her in the kitchen sink this time, rubbed in the olive oil, then dish soap, then rinsed well with the hottest water she could stand using the sink sprayer. It helped a little. We repeated a couple more times, then we had to dry her off and get her dressed so we could head out the door to Mason's karate performance. He was SO excited, we didn't want to miss it! They were ADORABLE, and so serious about performing. Afterwards my kids were running around and everyone asked why Maylee's hair was still wet 2 hours later :). Nope, not wet, just Vaseline covered. We did the olive oil thing again when we got home, it got a little better. Hopefully it looks better in the morning for church! We have a ward-split meeting tomorrow, so we will see how that goes. Anyway, if you ever wondered what a typical day in the Brown household is like, there you have it. I can for sure say that we are never bored :) It's a little chaotic most of the time, but I love it, and I wouldn't trade it for anything! I LOVE my little family!

 (above) my happy yard sale buddies!  (Maylee wouldn't look at the camera so I just took a pic of the older 2 :)

 (above) ran across Frank's boat keys sitting on the console in Matt's truck.  Sure miss him.  If you knew him and his love for his boat, you know this quote totally fits him :)

 (above) Mason and Maylee after the karate performance (notice how Maylee's hair still looks wet 2 hours later?  Oh yeah, love Vaseline.)

 (above) Mason and his cute karate buddies :)

(above) FINALLY finished the stack of t-shirts (front and back) for camp.  PHEW!

the way it should be

I was looking at some friends' blogs recently and ran across one on a friend of a friend's blog announcing the arrival of their 4th child, a little boy.  The mom posted photos and blogged about her other kids meeting their new brother.  She wrote about how anxious they had all been to finally meet him. They looked about the same ages as my kids.  Their 2-year-old girl reminded me of Maylee, and she described her being so in love with him, and you could see it in her face.  I was happy for this family (I don't know them, I just happened across their blog), but I couldn't help thinking this was how it should be. Today is my due date. Today my kids should be excitedly meeting their new baby brother for the first time and smothering him with kisses while he grunts and protests. That's how it should be. Although today hasn't been as hard as I expected it to be, none of my babies have arrived on their actual due date, it is yet another reminder of things that should have been. We knew for awhile that Miles would likely be born long before his due date, but his due date was the time we could expect to take him home from the NICU, to have him a part of our daily life, and to be a central part of our family.  I see babies who were born the same week as Miles beginning to smile and reach fun little milestones, and again I think about how it should be. I watch Maylee so sweetly hold and care for other people's babies. I watch  the way Kinley and Mason excitedly talk about their friends' new siblings and how cute Kinley's teacher's baby boy is, and I am happy for those families, but they should have been able to have that excitement for their brother. Should have been able to love him and ooh and ahh over him and show him off.  They talk about how they would have played with him and taught him things.  Those are  the hardest things, the things that should have been. The family parties and vacations and birthdays and the mundane everyday things that he should have been part of.  I know that the Lord had a plan for Miles, and I constantly remind myself that this is how it was supposed to be for him, but sometimes I can't help but think about the way it should be.

another day in paradise

Maylee learned a new little trick today. Fabulous. So much for her talking in her bed for an hour every morning while I get dressed, and goodbye 4-hour naps every afternoon while I actually get things done.

And just when I thought it couldn't get worse, she learned to open the door and turn on the light in her bedroom.  Awesome.

I still love the little monkey, but this will take some getting used to!!!

I put Maylee down for her nap, and about 5 minutes later while sorting laundry I could hear a little fist knocking on her door.  I went in and there she was, standing by her door.  I picked her up, but her back in her crib, and told her not to climb out anymore, it is time to sleep.  She said in her cutest 2-year-old voice 'oh-day!'  I again closed the door and went back to sorting laundry.  A couple of minutes later I again heard her little knock on her door.  I decided to ignore it, she can't open doors and so she would eventually fall asleep somewhere on the floor.  I went downstairs to get Mason out the door to karate.  After he left, I turned around and there was Maylee standing at the bottom of the stairs.  I was so confused.  I picked her up and went up to her room, where sure enough her door was wide open and her light was on.  McKinley and her friends were in the craft room, so I asked them if they had let her out.  They said they hadn't.  I turned off her light, put her back in her bed, and shut her door again.  I sat outside her door this time and just listened.  After a couple of minutes I could her her climb out of her crib, run across her wood floor, hang on the doorknob to reach up to turn on the l ight, and then turn the knob until she got the door open.  The little stinker.  By that time it was too late for a nap, so we gave up.  After Mason got home from karate he had to get dressed for t-ball practice, then after practice Matt had a softball game, so we all loaded up and headed out to watch him play.  After their game was over, our cute friends invited us over for a late night roasting marshmallows on the fire pit.  It's summer, how could I say no to that :).  By the time we got home, though, Maylee was asking to go to bed, she was so tired.  We are going to have to figure out this nap thing, she can't survive without one (and neither can I, I will NEVER get anything done!).  Matt put her to bed and she went straight to sleep, she was so worn out from her busy day.  I took the kids over to the Hansen's and we laughed and roasted marshmallows and the kids played 'night games' until 11.  I finally had to end the fun and round up the kiddos to head home to bed.  As we walked home, Mason said 'that was the best night ever!'  I love summer!  Pretty sure there will be some late sleepers at my house tomorrow morning!

gratitude and cupcakes

Yes, it has been a rough couple of weeks, but I have not forgotten how much I have to be grateful for.  I am grateful that I get to wake up to these beautiful little faces every morning.  I love the funny things they say and do, and I love watching them learn and grow every day (although I do wish they would slow down a little, they are growing way too fast!) I am grateful for my wonderful husband, who although he is as tough and manly as they come, still asks me how I am feeling, listens to me cry, and can admit that he misses his little guy.  I love that he has a big huge soft spot for our mischievious little 2-year-old who just adores her daddy.  I love that he enjoys doing 'man things' with Mason.  I love that he keeps up on Kinley's school work and reading, and always remembers to ask her how her friends are doing and what she learned that day.  I am grateful for my family.  I love them so very much. 

 And I am grateful for the little things.  The simple pleasures.  Eating dinner as a family, even if it's just hot dogs.  Going for walks around the neighborhood.  Making cupcakes with the kids.  The sheer joy on their faces as they lick off JUST the frosting.  I have so much to be grateful for. 

they said it would happen

and it did.  Just like they said.  They said I would be fine and feel like life was getting back to some sort of 'normal', then around 2 or 3 months after Miles' passing the pain would come back full force.  I was doing fine, having more good days than bad, and making 'progress.'  I figured they were wrong, they didn't know me, I can deal with this just fine and not fall backwards.  But it did come back, just like they said.  The shock and fog has started to wear off.  It hit me like a ton of bricks.  And again it's hard.  His headstone is done, my c-section has mostly healed, the last of the medical bills have been paid, the loose ends have all been tied up, and there is nothing left to be done for him.  There are no life plans to make for him.  There are no new milestones to report.  There is nothing new to say.  And people don't really ask anymore.  Not that I blame them, what else is there to say.  But it's a harsh reality that becomes more real every day.  I don't ask why it had to happen, I know it did, I can accept that it was the will of the Lord.  But why does it have to be so hard.  Why does my mother heart have to long to hold my baby.  Why do I have to miss him so much that it physically hurts.  Those are the things that I have to ask why.