You can find the lyrics yourself. It's called google.

You Are My Sunshine

Earlier this week, the sweet Sister who does 5-minute music (and conducts the music and picks the music) in Relief Society asked me if I would help her with 5 minute music. She dropped off a short story with some music to it, and asked if I would read it, and sing a few small parts, or she could read it and I could just sing. I thought briefly about asking Angel or 1 of the kids to sing, but Angel hates singing and I figured since I haven't taught this song to my children (I know! What kind of mother am I?) I wouldn't be able to teach it to them in time for Sunday.

Soooo, I just decided to sing it myself. However it became apparent to me after reading it for the first time, that on Sunday, during the last hour of church, after having been inundated by the Spirit softening my heart more than usually happens during the week, that I may not make it through reading the story. I asked the music sister if she would read the story and I'll sing the little part.

No problem.

Riiiiight...

I got through the first line of the song, and couldn't sing anymore as my throat closed up and I started crying. Wonderfully, blessedly the sisters in Relief Society didn't miss a beat, and started to sing along. It was beautiful. And I felt very loved and comforted by these great sisters. And the whole point of the 5-minute music was to illustrate the power of music. I'm glad I could be the unwitting object lesson.

Now let's see if I can find the story online and can copy and paste it here, or if I'm gonna have to type the whole darn thing!

I love the internet...

(btw, Snopes.com calls this story "undetermined" as it apparently has circulated for a while and is written in the fashion of a news story, though no article in Women's day or anywhere else has been found. I say, who cares? It's a good story. Letting a child sing to their sibling is generally a good idea.)

Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling.

They found out that the new baby was going be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sang to his sister in mommy’s tummy.

He was building a bond of love with his little sister before he even met her.

The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen, an active member of the Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown , Tennessee

In time, the labor pains came. Soon it was every five minutes, every three, every minute. But serious complications arose during delivery and Karen found herself in hours of labor.

Would a C-section be required? Finally, after a long struggle, Michael’s little sister was born. But she was in very serious condition.

With a siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushed the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary’s Hospital, Knoxville ,Tennessee. The days inched by. The little girl got worse. The pediatrician had to tell the parents there is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst.

Karen and her husband contacted a local cemetery about a burial plot. They had fixed up a special room in their house for their new baby but now they found themselves having to plan for a funeral. Michael, however, kept begging his parents to let him see his sister.

"I want to sing to her," he kept saying.

Week two in intensive care looked as if a funeral would come before the week was over.

Michael kept nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care. Karen decided to take Michael whether they liked it or not.

If he didn’t see his sister right then, he may never see her alive. She dressed him in an oversized scrub suit and marched him into ICU.

He looked like a walking laundry basket.

The head nurse recognized him as a child and bellowed,

‘Get that kid out of here now. No children are allowed..’

The mother rose up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glared steel-eyed right into the head nurse’s face, her lips a firm line.

‘He is not leaving until he sings to his sister’ she stated.

Then Karen towed Michael to his sister’s bedside. He gazed at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. After a moment, he began to sing.

In the pure-hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sang:

‘You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,

you make me happy when skies are gray.’

Instantly the baby girl seemed to respond.

The pulse rate began to calm down and become steady.

‘Keep on singing, Michael,’ encouraged Karen with tears in her eyes.

‘You never know, dear, how much I love you,

please don’t take my sunshine away.’

As Michael sang to his sister, the baby’s ragged, strained breathing became as smooth as a kitten’s purr.

‘Keep on singing, sweetheart.’

‘The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms’

Michael’s little sister began to relax as rest, healing rest, seemed to sweep over her.

‘Keep on singing, Michael.’

Tears had now conquered the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glowed.

‘You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

Please don’t take my sunshine away.’

The next day…the very next day, the little girl was well enough to go home.

Lord, I'm tired.
So tired from walking
And, Lord, I'm so alone
And Lord the dark
Is creeping in
Creeping up
To swallow me
I think I'll stop
Rest here a while.

And this is all that I can say right now
And this is all that I can give
And this is all that I can say right now
And this is all that I can give
That's my everything.

Oh, and didn't You see me cryin'?
Oh, and didn't You hear me call Your name?
Wasn't it You I gave my heart to?
I wish You'd remember
Where you set it down.

And this is all,
This is all that I can say right now.
I know it's not much
But this is all that I can give
Yeah that's my everything.
This is all that I can say right now, right now
I know it's not much.
Well, this is all that I can give
Yeah, that's my everything.

I didn't notice You were standing here.
I didn't know that
That was You holding me.
I didn't notice You were cryin' too.
I didn't know that
That was You washing my feet.

And this is all,
This is all that I can say right now.
Oh, I know it's not much
But this is all that I can give
Yeah that's my everything.
This is all that I can say right now, right now
I know it's not much
Well, this is all that I can give
Yeah, that's my everything.
This is all that I can say right now,
Oh, I know it's not much
But this is all that I can give
Yeah that's my everything.
Yeah that's my everything.
Yeah that's my everything.
Every
thing.

Just Keep Swimming Just Keep Swimming Just Keep Swimming

Here I am, while my sweet husband (who refuses to go to bed without me) snoozes on the living room floor. I have tried to get him to go to bed, I promise! I am a little multiple personality disorder-y lately. It's fun to be able to label myself with psychiatric disorders! Seriously, I woke up this morning feeling good. For the first time in a long time, I did not spend too long trying to convince myself it was worth it to get out of bed. OK maybe I did that a little, but not really long. Have I mentioned how nice it is to have such good sifties that change diapers, get each other fed, dressed, and basically clean? I am grateful for my amazing kids. I did pretty well most of the day. We dropped Angel off at play practice (He's in a Shakespeare play with a homeschool group), went to Costco, picked up Angel, and went to Barnes and Noble to get Robert's birthday present (and look for a kids' cookbook at Oliver's request, any suggestions?). Then b/c of traffic we got home after Robert, and left immediately to go to dinner with my sister and her fam' at Macaroni Grill at Robert's request. I did OK, until the end of dinner when smells and sounds started to overwhelm my senses, and I got annoyed with myself b/c these are pregnancy symptoms, and I have no right to feel them. On top of that, I have been sneezing like crazy for weeks, my throat itches randomly, and my eyes and ears are itchy. People keep telling me it's allergies, which I've never had and don't really want to go to the doctor to deal with on top of everything. Have I mentioned out health Insurance sucks? We pay out of pocket for everything b/c our deductible is so high. I don't even see the point in having insurance when it's like this. Unless one of us came up with a ridiculous disease (like cancer, knock on wood) we'll never make our deductible in a year.

And now I am just up, b/c Thursday is supposed to be our Friday, since Robert takes most Fridays off after working 10 hour days M-Th. Add 3 hours travel time every M-Th and it makes for a reeeeaaally long week until Thursday! Then Robert and I usually stay up watching mindless television and talking, so we can spend Friday and Saturday with the kids. I've been playing insomniac for so long that Robert is short on hours and sleep lately (OK, for about the past year, eyes rolling over here), and I don't know how long we can keep this up. He has a great job, but the commute is killing us. But we both know he is where he needs to be right now; we have no idea why, but we know it is right. Boy, I wish I knew everything. No, not really, that would be too much responsibility. I wish I knew a bit more that I know now. That'll do.

And now I am simply typing to have something to do.

Horatio is officially a "big kid" now! He uses the potty and has accidents only occasionally. He picked it up very quickly once we stopped putting pull-ups on him. We are so proud of him. he seems so little to be such a big kid. (*sniff)

And now I must go do some school research or watch tv online, and maybe get my husband to bed. The floor can't be comfortable.

Another song on the cd Robert made recently: "When the going get's tough, the tough get going." Good one.

Catharsis and Closure

Pause the music to the right and press "play" above, so you can get the whole soundtrack effect here!

Today I went to see an OB/Gyn that many friends and acquaintances recommended. My oldest sister came to watch the kids, and Robert came home early to go with me. I was really nervous, not knowing how my uncontrollable emotions would come out. I was also kind of weirded out when we got to the doctor's office and there was a big sign on the door saying "No children allowed", and another one by the sign-in spot telling you to reschedule your appointment if you do have children with you. I can understand the logic and comfort factor for other patients, but it was still just weird to me. We waited and waited. We went in, got weighed, did a urine sample, and finally they did a pelvic exam and an internal ultrasound. It was interesting to see my uterus bigger than normal, but as the doctor pointed out there wasn't even a gestational sac, much less a sifty in there. He was a very nice doctor. He sat with us and explained things very gently. I could tell he was choosing his words carefully, but also wanted to be sure we knew that this was definitely a miscarriage. He did point out that saving the "tissue" past about 12 hours is pointless from a pathology stand point, so now you know. Unless you go in to the doctor really soon after a miscarriage there is not much testing they can/will do on the "remains" (for lack of a better word). The doctor also made it very clear that most miscarriages are due to chromosomal abnormalities, not having to do with anything we did or could have done. It's pretty much just statistics. In my research I found quite a few people saying that about 15% of pregnancies are miscarried (which is about 1 in 7 for those of you too lazy to do the math), so I just figured I was due. The doctor we saw told us a figure much higher, like 25% or more, which as he pointed out makes ME the anomoly, having given birth 6 times already with absolutely no problems! Strangely, that made me feel better. The whole experience was cleansing for me. Perhaps it was knowing that it is at least over mostly (still bleeding, but no more huge pains or clots) and that there is not anything more that needs to be done, except the Doc does want to monitor my HCG levels to make sure they go all the way down to zero again, which would indicate that my body is indeed done with this prenancy.

It's strange how much better I felt after walking out of the doctor's office. Robert was very contemplative the whole time. I think it was finally hitting him while we were there. Overall I am not mourning for this baby, b/c I don't believe this baby had her spirit in this body yet. I believe she is still waiting to come to us. I am sort of grieving for the "might have beens" like having a halloween baby and being pregnant with my sister and being fussed over by friends and family. Silly things. This little body may not have even gotten to the point where I think of "losing" this pregnancy. It could have stopped developing days or weeks before the bleeding even started. This is not to diminish the very real and devastating grief felt by anyone else, this is just how I am feeling now. I cannot imagine someone having to go through a D&C where they have to "clean you out" or giving birth to a later term baby that is fully formed and much larger. When we got home Robert and I buried what I had saved in the front garden, more for closure than anything else. It felt good to give it to the soil, so that the nutrients can be used for feeding the grass and flowers instead of just flushed.

At this point I have progressed from being bipolar (though I have my moments) to being a victim of Post-traumatic Stress Syndrome. It's nice to have a neat little title for how I am feeling. I am fine one minute then something triggers me, and I am trying to breathe and figure out where I am and keep myself here. For instance Robert made me a cd, as I mentioned before. He wanted it to be an upbeat, fun cd, so he put a cool version of "Kung Fu Fighting" on it. It's a better version than the reeeeeeaaally slow one that's out there (that may be the original, but I dunno'), and I think the good one is the Kung Fu Panda one (good movie, btw). Well it came on while we were in the car and the lyrics hit me and I was crying in the middle of the street in the middle of a conversation which had nothing to do with anything. The phrase "What would it take to break? I believe that you can bend" made me remember that Heavenly Father feels that way about me. He knows I can do this. And the line "the future is a little bit frightening" hit me too, b/c I am looking forward to trying again but not looking forward to the anxiety that will inevitably come with it. And if I knew how to imbed just music directly into a post, I would do that for you. If I do figure it out, just be sure to pause my music player on the side, so you can hear it.

Chorus:
Everybody is Kung Fu Fighting
Your mind becomes fast as lightning
Although the future is a little bit fright'ning
It's the book of your life that you're writing

You're a diamond in the rough
A brilliant ball of clay
You could be a work of art
If you just go all the way
Now what would it take to break
I believe that you can bend
Not only do you have to fight
But you have got to win

(Chorus)

Oooooouuhhh

You are a natural
Why is it so hard to see
Maybe it's just because
You keep on looking at me
The journey's a lonely one
So much more than we know
But sometimes you've got to go
Go on and be your own hero

(Chorus)

Defined: Sifties

I suppose since I use the word so much (and since Aby asked) I should define it for you .

Buuuuut, there's really not a definition except it means little kids, to Robert and I it means CUTE little kids (specifically ours), but that's pretty much it. Maybe Rebecca will come over to my blog and comment for me, since it's her word! I'll FB her.

Background:
In college, the semester before Robert and I got engaged, I tried out for a traveling children's production of Rumpelstiltskin. I did not make the cast. However a friend of mine that did, pointed out my technical experience (and willingness) to the directors (a couple of the coolest grad students you'll ever meet) and they asked me to be their "Stage Manager." This really meant keeping track of stuff and running the sound, but it was 1 of the most fun experiences I have ever had. We mostly traveled during the day to localish elementary schools, carrying our minimal set (read: huge storybook), costumes, etc with us. It was always fun, and the cast were all very talented & crazy so we had a blast! We even traveled to Wyoming (I think it was) very shortly after Robert and I got engaged for a couple of nights stay, during which the school/department paid for us to stay at a hotel and gave us money for meals (20 bucks a day each! Which was a ton to me at the time.). I can't even tell you about our secret initiation rites b/c then I'd have to kill you. But know that it was some good times. Point is, sifty is a word Rebecca used to use when we would pull up to the school or see lots of kids as we drove by or came into the schools. She would do this funny thing where she pinched her own cheeks sort of (kind of like the asl sign for cat) and say, "sifty!" It was so funny (Rebecca was a hoot!), and for some reason Robert and I actually remembered it long enough to start calling our kids that, 2 years later when we had out first. To be fair and to note that I haven't forgotten anyone, Rebecca was the co-director, but I can't remember her friend/co-director's name, who I do remember and can picture in my head, it might have been Deeanne or something close to it. Dana!? Maybe some of the FB crowd will remember and comment for me! Justin? Ken? Also of note, I'd like to thank Justin for giving me my first ever filet mignon on the trip to Wyoming. Yum! And if anyone remembers the rest of the cast's names and they are on FB I wouldn't mind catching up with them. That's where my brain is right now. Thanks also to Rebecca's mom for hosting the cast at least once (which was probably once too many!). To this day, when I think of a clean bathroom I think of Rebecca's mom's house, her whole house just looked so put together and nice.

Random other things I remember about the cast: Ken used to drive the van, and we were stopped at a red light at Bulldog and University Avenue once, and there was this couple making out in front of us in their front seat, so Ken honked at them and the guy almost got into an accident b/c he actually punched on the accelerator before he unlocked lips with his chick. But the light was red still. It was really funny at the time. OK it's still funny.

Rebecca used to drive sometimes, too, and she was not very "happy" with other drivers. To this day, when I am annoyed by other people I hear in my head Rebecca in that weird, excorcism voice, "IDIOT!"

Time to go write on some walls.

The TMI Post: Don't Read Anymore Unless You Really Want to Hear it. You Have Been Warned.

I want so badly to vent, but I am still so confused that I don't know where to start. I am trying to understand what I am feeling, but my brain is still refusing to settle down enough to actually think about anything for more than a few minutes, much less analyze anything. When I try to think about what I am feeling my brain jumps ship to whatever random topic it can latch onto. I can't even write stuff down about my being psycho chick all day. I find myself constantly apologizing to Robert, while he graciously blows it off telling me I haven't done anything... but I have yelled at him and the sifties so much it's painful. Yesterday I figured I wouldn't make it past the first hour of church. Then we got a call asking if Robert could sub in Isa's Primary class (the 5 year olds). B/c of sick people out there, a male can't teach a Primary class alone, so I had a need to fill and a reason to remain at church for all 3 hours. Mixed feelings: Annoyance ("Now I have to stay..."), gladness ("At least I'm needed."), exhaustion (I've stayed up until 5 am for 2 nights, until 3:45 1 night, and here I am again...), gratitude ("Heavenly Father knows I'm trying, failing, but trying, and failing, and trying some more."), confusion ("What is the point of all this."). Above all I was not wanting to face being in a large gathering of people, among whom are some who suspect I am pregnant (b/c we don't tell before about 12 weeks, for the sad reason of possible miscarriage which has never happened until now), some who know I have miscarried, and some who know nothing and probably don't care. As a wise person once pointed out, "Do you think these people really care what you are doing? They've all got their own problems!" (not in a mean way of course, but it's true. I often think people are laughing or talking about me when that's totally stupid!) I really did not want the emotional frustration of dealing with having to constantly go to the bathroom to check bleeding (inconspicuously, of course), put on my happy face and tell people I'm just tired (when I am so confused and vacillate between feeling dead inside and a million other emotions), and avoid anyone talking to me long enough to inquire if I am pregnant.


I had been having a tiny bit of pink when I went to the bathroom for about 4 to 5 days before my midwife appointment last Tuesday. I was 10 weeks, 4 days according to my edd, based on my last period. She tried to hear the heartbeat, but couldn't and we didn't think anything of it b/c -as Robert pointed out- we've never heard any of the kids heartbeats this early. The whole time, I have not been worried at all. I have freaked out completely in previous pregnancies over a tiny bit of blood or cramps or anything I felt weird about. This time it was as though the Spirit was compelling me to be totally calm. I could not freak out if I tried. I asked Robert when we were going to call our moms to announce the news (Moms have to be the first to be told, right?)... Then Wednesday morning I had bright red blood. I got a little worried, but still felt this overwhelming calm.

Here's where the TMI starts, so now's your chance to turn back...

I stopped using tampons a while back, and use a Diva cup now (brand name for a menstrual cup, kind of like a diaphragm, but it holds up to an ounce, so you have something reusable, cleanable, doesn't leak, and you only have to empty it twice a day. It really is nice and sanitary). Well, I figured this was perfect for keeping track of how much blood I'm losing. I lost a good 4 oz before the afternoon, checking at least every half hour. Then I put it in again, sat down for 15 minutes, felt like I needed to check it again, and no sooner than I sat down in the bathroom than it literally fell out with a lot of "stuff" (easily 2 ounces worth by volume, mostly red, some liver looking, lots of big pieces, and some whitish tissue, pretty big, maybe the size of a 10 week old fetus, but not anything that looked like a baby). I (already wearing surgical gloves) reached in and got the stuff out, saving it in a small plastic container, as I had done some research online and a lot of people suggest saving it for testing later (especially as I suspect I had a very early miscarriage a few months ago). I saved everything for the rest of that day until I stopped having enough to use the cup, and switched to pads.

Hey I warned you in the title, this was TMI. Your bad for reading this far if you are grossed out by now! But I want to record this for me and for anyone who may have questions like me.

I talked to my midwife a few times, and she confirmed what I thought: there's not much anyone can do at this point, so it's just as good to wait unless I see signs of infection. My big sister came over as well as a friend from church and hung out and helped a bit on Thursday. I even went to a meeting Thursday night, feeling like I'd rather go out than allow myself to wallow at home.

The bleeding slowed down, we went out to do errands eventually on the weekend, and I have pretty much stayed glued to my chair besides. My energy level is rising and falling in waves. I have had waves of contractions (and cramps, and believe you me I know the difference) after the big "stuff coming out" which is confusing me more. Why is my body acting like it's in labor when it's all (mostly?) out already? The bleeding will slow, then get heavy and clott-y again. I keep having random muscle pain and cramps and backaches. I am frustrated and mad at no one in particular, b/c it's just not fair that it hurts and it so messy and no one ever warns you about this. In fact when we called the ER on Saturday to kind of get an idea if this was normal, I got mad. If you know me, you know I have had all of my children "naturally," painfully (except for the last, which was drug free and pain free, Yeah Hypnobabies!), so I have no problem with dealing with childbirth to get a baby! But I felt like the guy on the phone was telling me to suck it up. Most women would walk in there and say they are in labor and the first thing a hospital does is offer her drugs to take away the pain, but a woman has a miscarriage and the guy is like, "Eh, that's normal." I wanted drugs. Why should I put up with this pain, when I am getting nothing at the end?

Whew.

Sorry, had to vent.

Now that I've vented, if you are still with me, let me share some insights I have had, grudgingly, but good. I found myself thinking about the fact that I know I chose to come to Earth for a purpose, to get a body, have certain experiences to learn and grow, and prove that I want to go back to live with God (that's the really short version). If this experience draws me closer to my Heavenly Father and Jesus, then it's totally worth it. (I thought that kind of grudgingly.)

Later Robert and I were talking, and I was explaining to him some of my feelings, and I thought without hesitation that I would do this a hundred times over again if it brings me closer to Robert. Now you can see right here that I am imperfect, as I value my relationship with Robert more than with my Creator, but I'm working on that (at least it's not money...), sincerely. Pretty soon after that I shared with Robert that if this brings me closer to them then I want to/will do it willingly, but I don't really want to. It is a trait I am working on daily, wanting what Heavenly Father wants for me, and not what I want (like the spoiled child that I am most of the time). My brain is shutting down, so my words are dribbling forth. I apologize.

Thanks for hanging around for a bit.

Random thought: in church today it dawned on me, "I don't cook Easter dinner. Aren't I supposed to cook some ham or turkey dinner and have family over? I feel like a failure at being a domestic queen." At least we had an Easter egg hunt and talked about the resurrection.

Then I spent a good part of the evening getting my hopes up falsely by searching the internet for stories of "miscarriages" and heavy bleeding where the mom is still pregnant afterwards; there are quite a lot actually... at least now I'm not totally in the pits of despair, but when I crash Tuesday after my appointment I'll be mad at myself (stupid self!).

I haven't had the guts to tell Horatio yet. How do I tell him? He's been more aware of this pregnancy than I ever imagined he would be, pointing out there's a baby in my tummy and putting a teddy bear in his shirt and walking around saying, "I have a baby in my tummy, Mommy!" It was so cute, and just a few days ago!

Little things. I need to relax so badly and I keep thinking I can just sit back and listen to my Hypnobabies pregnancy affirmations. Then I realize, I can't. They're all about being healthy and baby being healthy and growing and good... I was so looking forward to practicing my Hypnobabies again.

Come back, OK? I promise I'll be better soon.

sigh

i can do this i can do this i can do this

Robert made me a cd. He titled it "Happy Together." He wants so badly to help and make me happy. I'm sorry, my love. Thank you.

I am Claiming Bipolarity Due to Miscarriage

I've always had mood swings.

But the past 2 days have been crazy.

I can go from numb, to utterly grateful, to angry, to sobbing, to ready to go out, to ready to take a bath, to ready to be done with everything, to ready to stay up all night all within a matter of maybe an hour. It's really weird. And even as it's happening, I feel a complete loss of control, and wonderment at how psychotic I can be. It would be entertaining if it wasn't so pathetic.

Robert is doing his best at biting his tongue and not biting off my head when I do it to him for no other reason than that he doesn't know how to prepare hot dogs to take to the drive-in.

The kids are enjoying asking me if they can play Spore, b/c I generally answer, "I don't care."

Horatio is enjoying the cuddle time, and I am totally enjoying being entertained by watching Elisabeth-Jane be cute.

I am also not enjoying the debilitating fits of crying when I am not expecting it. I am entirely empathetic towards people who are bi-polar.

I am also having trouble articulating (or whatever the word for articulating is when you are writing) how I am feeling, b/c I am going through a surreal period right now. This obviously isn't happening.

BTW, I love the George Lopez show. He's funny. I'm hungry, but I don't really feel any motivation to eat anymore without somebody else to feed, and I certainly don't need the extra calories.

My head is killing me, but I am refusing to take any aspirin or ibuprophen under the completely made up assumption (by my imagination) that I was really pregnant with more than one baby and I'm still pregnant. Whew. Feels good to admit it. We'll know Tuesday, barring any complications before then, since I have an appointment with an OB to double check that everything is... ok. Did I say that in my last post? Hey, I have a right to my ridiculous fantasies.

Little known fact about having a miscarriage: it hurts. It tends to make me cranky. I feel like it's adding insult to injury. You know, the Universe should know it's not fair for something so emotionally painful to actually be physically painful, too. I think a petition should be started.

I think my brain is having a hard time processing this, so it's jumping all over the place b/c I'm scared to stop and think about it. But, ironically my head hurts worse when I close my eyes, so I'm up.

I am 99.99% sure that sometime in the future I will look back on this and say, "I'm glad things didn't happen the way I wanted them to at the time, look how much better it is now," but right now I just wish I was still pregnant. I wish I could've called my mom to tell her last week -finally- that I was pregnant and tell her the line I've been practicing since we found out, "I figured since I'd been pregnant at the same time as Tricia (my oldest sister), I'd also get pregnant at the same time as Charlotte (my other older sister, who is pregnant with her first now)" then wait for my mom to work out what I said. That was gonna be fun. Then she'd yell at Cliff in another room, "Cliiiff, guess who's pregnant again?" I'd probably tell everybody at church this weekend, too. That way my good friend Marsha will stop telling me to see a doctor for my mood problems, b/c I could finally point out why I've been a bit crazier than usual lately. sigh. Writing all this down doesn't make me cry right now (maybe later), and I have no idea why. I don't feel empty. I feel nonplussed. I feel like I bought a brand new car, filled it with gas, oil and everything it might need, and even washed it, only to have it break down a block away from the dealership. Logically, I understand this happens to women all over the world all the time, but I don't have these problems. I hardly ever even got sick before I got married. But everyone has stuff happen, and I really do get it, "It can happen to anyone, even me." So maybe I'm really surprised by how surprised I am...?

I can't get my head around this and I'm starting to not be able to see anymore, and if I cry any more my head will explode, so I'm going to watch mindless tv and enjoy my denial a little while longer.

at least until Tuesday.

Thanks for visiting me.

Good News, Mostly

I had hoped for this post to be full of only good news, but alas, life is life, so here goes. I have had my first known miscarriage. I'm not sure if it's totally done, and we are just waiting it out at this point, though we do have an appointment with a doctor for Tuesday to double check that everything is ok, besides the fact that the child I carried for 10 1/2 weeks won't be with us in October as we hoped. I am overwhelmed by conflicting emotions, and overall don't know how I feel, except I hurt. It's surreal to me who has never had pregnancy problems. Maybe I was really pregnant with multiple sifties and a baby is still growing inside of me right now...

but probably not.

Now it's time for me to list some good news, before I can't see the keyboard for the tears.

I have the most caring, unselfish, kind, sweet, loving husband in the universe (sorry ladies, he's mine!). He wants nothing more in this life than to love and care for me.

I have 5 beautiful, intelligent, sweet, obedient, kind, helpful, silly, and wonderful sifties who love me for some unknown reason.

I have a home.

My husband has a job and all of our bills get paid on time.

I know who God is, that He loves me, and He has a plan for me and my family and everyone else. I know His plan is perfect, no matter how much I don't understand.

I know who Jesus Christ is. I know he lived, taught, healed, suffered, and died for many reasons, all of them good. I know He lives today, with God, and has made a way for me to live with both of them again, perfect, whole, and with all of my family if I can just hang in there and have faith and do my best... and get back up again when I screw up (a lot).

so why am I so scared that I will never birth another child again? If I don't, I'll know that that was the plan all along. But this seems like a righteous desire: to help more of God's children come to Earth in a loving family. I'm only 32. Could I really be done? And if I am, how ungrateful am I to want more?

Sorry.

Good news:

Robert loves me.
Angel,
Oliver,
Isa,
Horatio,
Elisabeth-Jane,
Tricia,
Marsha,
and many others
love me.

Right?
Right!

Heavenly Father loves me.
Jesus loves me.

It's all going to be ok.
But if you tell me that, I will have to hit you.

For now, empathy or sympathy and prayers are welcome and needed.

and I love you.