Reflections

Hello, world.

The snow falls so lightly this morning that it almost appears as a shimmering mist outside my bedroom window. In moments when the sunlight escapes through the clouds and reflects off of the falling snow just right I could swear that the world is being covered in swirling sparkles of glitter.

The morning I slipped and fell on my driveway, the concrete sparkled. I didn't notice this until after I had fallen and was laying there in the gutter in front of my home with my injury, unable to move. Maybe it was the angle from which I could now see the driveway, maybe it was because I had experienced firsthand the ice rink that my street had become. Perhaps the glimmering I saw was simply a result of the shock I was experiencing due to the pain in my leg. Either way, I remember thinking that if I had to lay there for a long time before someone discovered me, that driveway sure was a pretty sight. I started to wonder if maybe there was actually glitter mixed in with the concrete when my neighbor Mr. C., out walking his dog, came to my rescue.

Probably the one thing I have thought about most as I lie here in my bed day after day is the timing of my accident. Because it was 9:00 in the morning during Christmas break, my neighborhood was still asleep. I wonder if Mr. C. took regular walks at this hour or if something may have held him back or pushed him forward so that he left a bit sooner or later than usual. Just as when Coolister broke his ankle last March, I have learned that there are no such thing as coincidences in situations like these.

It was no coincidence that Mr. C. came by when he did and crossed the street to where I lay in order to offer assistance. I have never even met this man before that day, yet he did not hesitate to come to my aid. I have honestly thought in retrospect that we could have named our son after Mr. C because that is how grateful I am for his help that morning. I'm not sure I could ever really express the depth of my gratitude.

It was not a coincidence that this happened during Christmas break, when my older kids could be home tending to the younger ones so that Allen could stay in the hospital with me. When the paramedics showed up, All-a-Boy was downstairs playing a game with the littlest kids so that they would not see me in pain, surrounded by strangers in our front room, carted on a gurney to the ambulance.

It was not a coincidence that our nurse in the emergency room was the daughter of a neighbor who we knew well. It helped me feel at ease to talk about something familiar as I waited to hear what course of action would be taken to repair the dislocation and breaks in my ankle and leg.

It was no coincidence that the on-call surgeon was the same one who operated on Coolister's leg last march. We found him to be a bit arrogant and rude throughout Coolister's ordeal but we saw firsthand how Coolister's ankle healed beyond what we were told was possible and had confidence in the doctor's skills as a surgeon. I also do not think it was a coincidence that the aforementioned surgeon was actually kind and considerate toward me (well, minus the waiting time before surgery) despite his typical reputation.

It was not a coincidence that, when our little boy was born 3 weeks early, he weighed in at 8 pounds, 4 ounces and was perfectly healthy and ready to be here.

When I went for my surgery the day after I had given birth, it was no coincidence that I saw my OB twice (there to perform surgery on others under his care) while waiting for my surgeon to show up. He offered me words of encouragement and support when I was ready to explode with some mixture of anger, fear, frustration and tears. He helped me feel a sense of calm when I needed it.

As Allen waited on me in the hospital, it was no coincidence that our neighbors showed up at our home to provide our family with pizzas for lunch, meals for dinner and treats for whenever they wanted one before anything was coordinated to make this happen. It helped me to know that my family was being watched over while I selfishly kept Allen by my side to help tend to the needs of our newborn baby as the nurses tended to the needs of my post-surgical healing.

There are many more instances of non-coincidences over the past 2 weeks which I'll keep tucked away to be remembered personally by myself and my family, just as they should be.

In all instances, I know this for sure: coincidences did not exist in my world over the last couple of weeks. Tender mercies? Gifts from a loving Heavenly Father? Blessings? Even miracles? Yes to all of them... but no coincidences.

The afternoon as I waited to leave the hospital I was holding my baby boy. His eyes were curious and seemed to be searching mine with that innocence that comes with being new. I reveled in this moment, basking in his newness and the overwhelming happiness of being able to do this again, to mother another sweet newborn babe. As I sat there gazing at him, I noticed my own face reflected in the eyes of my beautiful baby boy - and then he smiled.

Coincidence? I think not.

Bringing In The New Year With A BANG!

Monday, December 27, 2010.
8:00 a.m.

I am scraping the thin layer of ice from the windows on our car. As usual, I am running late for my 8:00 a.m. doctor's visit. As I slide into the driver's seat my right foot slips a bit on the driveway. It's a slick one this morning, I think to myself.

8:50 a.m.

I am done with my 37 week doctor's visit and making an appointment to come back again next week. He has already agreed to induce me at 39 weeks - on January 11th. 1/11/11, I think to myself. Now that's a birthday I can remember!

9:10 a.m.

I pull into the driveway, ready to crawl back into bed. I notice that the trash truck has already been by and decide to pull the trash can up to the house. The second I exit the car my feet start to slip... and I go back and forth between sliding on the driveway, losing and then regaining my balance, until suddenly my right foot rolls the wrong way and I fall into the gutter with a snap! sound. I almost immediately know that my ankle is broken.

9:15 a.m.

I try calling Allen on my cell phone but, as luck would have it, my battery is all but dead. A sweet older gentleman is out walking his dog and he hurries over to ask how he can help. "I live in this house," I tell him, pointing. "Please go get my husband. I think I broke my ankle."

9:30 a.m.

Allen and Coolister have carried me into the house and called 9-1-1. The pain is excruciating. The paramedics come. I am reminding them over and over that I am 37 weeks pregnant and do not want any medications that could even possibly harm the baby. They stabilize my foot and load me in to the back of their ambulance for transport to the hospital.

9:45 a.m.

I am wheeled into a room in the ER where the damage is assessed by x-ray. I am hoping for a dislocation and yes, it is dislocated, but also broken. In two places. The tibia has a part of the end broken off, the fibula is a more obvious break. I am told they will set the ankle where it is dislocated and then the on-call orthopedic surgeon will come in to talk with me about the breaks.

10:00 a.m. - 11:00 a.m.

This time period is something of a blur because the ER doctor has given me a medication that keeps me awake through the setting procedure but helps me forget what exactly has gone on. Is that confusing? It was for me. For example, one minute they are putting something in my IV and not long after I notice my ankle is bandaged up. I ask Allen when that happened and he tells me it was wrapped when it was set. I had no idea they had set my ankle already although he says I was very vocal about letting them know "my ankle hurts really bad" as they were doing it.

11:00 a.m.

My OB (that's my baby doctor for those who don't know) comes to visit us in the E.R. He reassures me that all will be well and that he and the surgeon are going to consult & let me know what will be the best plan of action.

11:30 a.m.

Word comes that they want to induce the baby ASAP and then perform surgery on my ankle. I am a bit incredulous that I am going to have my baby that day. I ask all of the typical questions - are his lungs well enough developed? Will he be more likely to have jaundice? Do we need to do an ultrasound to check that everything's fine before inducing labor? My OB tells me that 37 weeks is considered full term and that everything will be fine. All I can think of as we wait to be wheeled up to labor and delivery is the fact that we have not decided on a name for this baby yet. We did not bring a camera - unless you count the ones on our phones. I have not shopped for Princess' birthday on January 1st. I have not found Princess a dress to wear after her baptism this Saturday. We have not yet moved Little O out of the pack-and-play bed he has slept in his entire life - which will be the new baby's bed once we get him home. I have not clipped my toenails or shaved my legs. Plus... how do I deliver a baby with a broken foot?! I have never felt so unprepared in my life.

12:00 p.m. - 2:00 p.m.

The Hospital Waiting Game. (This is not a fun game.) We use this time to talk some more about baby names.

2:10 p.m.

We arrive in Labor & Delivery. I am prepped for induction as the staff awaits instructions from my OB. I am already dilated to a 4 before induction begins - this gives me some hope that my baby may actually be ready to come.

2:30 p.m.

Pitocin (the labor-inducing drug) is administered through my IV.

2:45 p.m.

The orthopedic surgeon's PA (physician's assistant?) comes and tells me what to expect in surgery tomorrow. The time is yet to be determined... but I will have screws and a plate put in. I will have a soft cast for 10 days, then a hard cast for 5 weeks following. I will not be able to bear any weight on my ankle for 6 weeks. Allen and I discuss options for making this work. We can make it work.

3:00 p.m.

Contractions are painful enough that I am ready for an epidural. BONUS: The epidural takes away the pain in my foot. The doctor who administers the epidural is magical in that I do not feel any needle pricks or pain in the process of getting the epidural working.

4:00 p.m.

Not much progress. My OB breaks my water and chats with us for a bit while he watches my contractions.

4:45 p.m.

I tell my nurse that I'm feeling ready. She checks. I'm ready. They call the doctor back into the room.

4:55 p.m.

One push. They tell me not to push any more.

4:57 p.m.

Our baby is delivered and I am amazed at how well things have worked out. I am a mother for the 10th time. It is surreal. This beautiful little bundle of chub and squealy cries is mine. We look at him and decide on a name. It is perfect. He is 8 pounds, 4 ounces. 19 1/2 inches long. Not bad for 3 weeks early.

7:00 p.m.

Allen accompanies the nurses and our sweet little baby to the nursery while I am moved to the Mother/Baby floor. I have been fasting all day (unless you count the apple I ate on my way to the doctor's office this morning at 8:00 a.m.) but they order me dinner so that I'll have something to eat before I have to start my next fast at midnight. I will have surgery on my ankle in the morning but the time has not yet been determined. I am told it will likely be sometime between 2:00 p.m. and 8:00 p.m., but maybe at 7:00 a.m. Well, okay then.

8:00 p.m.

Dinner. Hospital food is awesome - I'm totally not kidding.

9:00 p.m.

We await word on surgery and continue to work with the nurses to attempt to control the pain in my ankle.

10:00 p.m.

I order more food (crackers, cookies and pudding) to fill myself up before fasting again from midnight until who-knows-when. My kids come to visit. I have never heard the words, "Awww!" and "cute!" said so many times in a 45 minute period of time. They are all in love with their little brother, even Curly who, when asked, "What do you think about your little brother?" answers, "Fine. Can I have a cookie?"

Tuesday, December 28, 2010
12:00 a.m.

The fasting begins.

7:00 a.m.

After a night full of baby feedings and checking of vital signs and controlling pain and uncomfortable hospital bedding, I am ready to get this surgery over with. We ask the nurses if they have a time yet. No word, but they'll let us know ASAP.

7:00 a.m. - 1:30 p.m.

The Hospital Waiting Game. I can't help but think about how much we are paying to sit around in this room and do nothing while waiting for surgery.

1:30 p.m.

I ask my nurses, trying not to sound annoyed, when my surgery will be. They call the surgeon but he is unavailable. They call the surgeon's office but they are not helpful. They call the Operating Room and ask when I am on the schedule - I'm not. We are all becoming even more frustrated when word comes - they are ready for me.

2:00 p.m.

I am wheeled down to the OR waiting room. Allen bids me farewell and good luck as I head through the doors. As soon as he leaves my side I am nervous & anxious. I just want this over with. The reality of all that has happened in just over 24 hours is overwhelming and I find myself emotional. I sing the words to "Particle Man" over and over in my head as an attempt at distraction. I do not want to cry in front of all these strangers.

2:15 p.m.

I talk with the anesthesiologist about what's going to happen during surgery. He offers more options than I want to think about. I tell him that I want to be completely asleep during the procedure and that's all I care about. He goes on and on giving me details on why I should opt for a spinal block, etc. and have some pump put in my sciatic nerve to control the pain after. I already told him what I wanted and I just want him to leave now. He finally does.

2:45 p.m.

Still no sign of my surgeon. I sit and watch as person after person is brought in, meets with their surgeon and anesthesiologist and is taken to the OR for surgery. I try to fall asleep so that I can be distracted from thoughts of crying.

3:30 p.m.

WHERE IS MY SURGEON?! Another anesthesiologist comes and asks me to sign a consent form. I tell him that I have already signed one. He asks if I was told that he was my new anesthesiologist. No, I was not told. He apologizes, excuses himself for a moment (to go chew someone out?) and comes back. I actually like him better than the first guy - he's easy-going and down to earth.

3:45 p.m.

My surgeon shows up. I want to chew him out for making me lay there in the OR waiting area for AN HOUR AND FORTY FIVE MINUTES but I figure it's best to keep things amiable since he's about to cut my leg open and put some screws and plates in there. I just try not to cry and nod my head when he asks me questions. To his benefit, he IS being very sweet.

4:00 p.m.

The anesthesiologist puts something into my IV, says he'll see me later, and I start to feel tingly as I fall asleep to his singing of some classic rock.

7:20 p.m.

I wake up in the recovery room and immediately ask if anyone has called Allen. They tell me he should be in the waiting area. I tell them to call him. They say they will once we get to my room. I am starting to get frantic again. I somehow feel like everything will be fine if Allen is with me and I need him there NOW. As we walk outside the OR, he is there, waiting. I breathe a sigh of relief.

The details from here on out are insubstantial. So now, here I am at home, my humongously casted ankle resting on my bed in front of me, my 5 day old baby resting to my right, and my life is good.

There are so many tender mercies that have occurred in our lives over the last 5 days. Some things much too personal to share, some details which are overwhelming evidence of how blessed we are.

I love how my kids will sneak into my room just for a chance to hold their new baby brother. I am amazed by each tiny feature and contented half-grin on my newborn baby boy. Broken ankle? Sure, it's inconvenient. And a literal pain. But in the end, all is well.

Seriously, look at that face.


I am so, so blessed.

Happy New Year, everyone.

Life, Love And Learning

The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart. - Helen Keller

I am not sure I can adequately express what I want to, but I am going to try.

The children at church took a walk across the street with their teachers today to sing some songs for the residents of the rest home there. First we walked the halls, holding hands and singing a few familiar favorites, bringing some residents to their doorways to share a smile or offer a wave as we passed by.

We continued to the main gathering room where we congregated on a stage to present a few more numbers. As we stood there singing, I looked out over the crowd. The faces I saw were happy, almost lit up with joy. And why? Because some children that they didn't even know were there to sing some songs for them.

My heart ached for these people, despite their currently pleasant demeanor. Thoughts raced through my mind. Why were they here? Did they have family? If so, did they come to visit? Were they lonely? Hurting? Sad? Scared? Where would I be when I reached that stage of my life? I continued to stand there, mouthing the words to each song along with the crowd of kids, but not actually singing for fear that my emotions would come to the surface. I am not sure how to describe what was going on inside of me except to say that I felt a great deal of love towards our audience.

When we were finished with our music we turned to exit the room. Residents of the home waved farewell, smiling, some calling out things like, "Such beautiful children!" and "Come again!"

I wanted to take the time to hug each person there, to tell them that they were loved and important. But I didn't. Not only for fear that I would become emotional but also because it was time to get back - time to sit in my classroom with the sweet 5-year-olds who I have stewardship over each week. Time to teach the lesson that I had prepared.

As we gathered back at the church and settled down for class I had a similar emotion overtake me, only this time it was one of love and appreciation for each of the kids in my class. I am uncomfortable crying in front of others and welcomed the distraction of Little O being brought to me right then as I don't think I would have been able to hold back what was threatening to emerge.

As I walked through the halls of the church, my little boy in my arms, I continued to think over the things I had felt. And I realized something. At the rest home as well as in my classroom, I was not edifying them. They were edifying me, offering me a glimpse of things that I needed to see and feel.

In reality, they were the ones teaching me the lessons today.

Lessons about the power of music and the love of mankind and the ties that bind us all together.

Remembering to count my blessings.

And none of that even comes close to sharing what I really feel.

Simple Perfection

Early morning sunbeams
Find my face, warm my skin
A gentle reminder
It's time to begin

Around the house I wander
All things rest in their place
I pause at each doorway
And savor each face

One by one they wake
I greet them with a smile
Or, "Good morning, Sunshine!"
(I'm so versatile!)

We sit 'round the table
Share stories and laughter
Indulge in some pastries
And speak of dreams after

This day then provides
Substantial time for me
To spend with each child
Such grand company!

We have time for writing
For singing and baking
Enjoying the sunshine
And memory-making

There's time for the garden
Even time for a walk
My dear spouse and I find
Some time just to talk

I am not judgmental
There is no time for fault
All negative thinking
Has come to a halt

At day's end the sunset
Is completely divine
Its breathtaking beauty
Is etched in my mind

The children then relish
The stories that are read
And drift off to dreamland
When tucked into bed

I soak in a warm bath
Write words that inspire
Eat something indulgent
And then I retire

Now, candy and flowers
And gifts are all grand, but
My preference is elsewhere
This is where I stand

These earnest words I've penned
Reveal the things I'd say
If asked how I would choose

To spend Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all of the moms who are reading this.

May your day be filled with all of the simple pleasures that bring you happiness!

Foreshadowing

Photo by Jason of Backroads Photography

Music speaks to me.

It has a way of seeping into my very being, expressing emotion that words alone cannot.

There are a few songs that bring me to tears because of memories they evoke or emotions they express. One song that brings me to tears every time is the song For Good from the musical Wicked.

It expresses the influence of a friend's presence in life and how truly powerful friendship can be.

So, to those of you who are that kind of friend to me - the kind that cross the boundary of friends into family... and the family I am lucky enough to call my friends (and I hope you know who you are) - thank you for being in my life.

Because I know you, I have been changed for good.

I Need To Remember

(I love this picture of Coolister. It really captures his personality well.)

I needed to hurry and write this before the warm fuzzies went away. It's something I need to remember ...but I tend to forget.

As the oldest child (and a boy, to boot) Coolister's job is to torture his younger siblings. To push their buttons. To drive me absolutely out-of-my-mind crazy by doing these things. I remember well how my oldest brother had this same role in our family. No one liked it, but such was life.

However.

Today was the perfect example of how Coolister is NOT the typical oldest man-child.

He came home after track practice, close to 6:00 pm, ready to either eat or sleep for an hour before attending his church activity night at 7:00. He walked into the kitchen, got a drink of water, and was immediately bombarded with questions from his little sisters and brothers. ElemenoB wanted help with her math, as did All-a-Boy. Princess wanted someone to help her read her sight words and cut out her 'word worm'. Hubba wanted a train story read to him.

Coolister helped Princess figure out some of her words first. Then he sat down with ElemenoB and went over her math problems for 15 minutes. She wasn't getting it. "I'll just ask my teacher for help tomorrow," she told him. But he was determined to help her understand. Another 5 minutes passed and it clicked. She got it.

He moved over to All-a-Boy who was frustrated with fractions. "I just don't get it!" All-a-Boy exclaimed. Coolister knew what to do. "Rulers always helped me understand these better. Let's make you one," he stated like a true teacher. I was in awe. Actually, I was in (happy) tears, but my back was to the kids so they couldn't see. Coolister worked with him for at least 20 minutes before moving on to spend some time with the littlest kids.

This boy is a rare jewel. I need to remind myself often of what a great kid he is. It is so easy to become frustrated with his lack of enthusiasm for practicing the piano and getting chores done. It is so easy to overlook the amazing thing that is happening right before my eyes: a 15-year-old boy cares so much for his younger siblings that he takes the time to sit with them and teach them what he knows. He makes the time to bond with the littlest members of the family and truly enjoys it.

It even goes beyond this.

It is heartwarming to watch him at cross-country or track meets. Not only does he cheer for all of his teammates, he cheers for the 'underdogs' on the other teams. At the last meet I attended we were on the sidelines, cheering for his school. Once they had all passed the finish line there was still one boy, far behind, who was putting in his best effort to finish. "Keep it up, man!" Coolister yelled to him despite the lack of cheering from the boy's own teammates. "You're almost there, kick it in to the finish! That's it! Yeah!!" he cheered, clapping and motioning him in to the finish line. Then he turned to me and said, "Man, kids like that - who you can tell aren't natural runners - when they race and really put in their best effort, those guys are my heroes. That's got to be tough." Again, tears. Thank heavens for sunglasses.

Not to discount my mothering skills, but I swear to you he came to me this way. He was born with a tender heart and genuine love for others.

Like I said, he is good at the typical teenage boy stuff. But it is when I make the time to remember all of these other rare qualities that I realize how very lucky I am to call him my son. Because beyond the fact that we are family, there is this:

He is my hero.

A Blessing

Sunday was Baby O's blessing day. I know, the collar is a bit much, but don't you think it's adorable? I mean, seriously, everything on this kid is adorable.

In the blessing, his dad referred to him by his middle name. He does not recall doing so, but there were a whole congregation full of witnesses. I wonder: should I be calling him Baby R?

And one final thought: Each of our children have been given a baby blessing when they are about 2 months old. However, our family receives a baby (blessing!) every time one joins our family.

We love our sweet Baby O! (or R?)

Coincidence? I Think Not...

We purchased our refrigerator almost 12 years ago, when we built our house. It was not what you'd call top-of-the-line... in fact, it was one of the least expensive models available at Future Shop at the time. But, hey - we were all about cheap.

A couple of years ago, the freezer stopped working. Allen took it apart, put it back together, and voila! it was up and running again. Awesome.

A couple weeks ago, we noticed the same freezer symptoms - some items were thawing, others were remaining rock solid - but it was manageable. We could eat ice cream sandwiches in bowls, and it was cold enough that nothing was going bad.

And then the refrigerator stopped refrigerating, which we discovered when Allen opened one of our 3 gallons of milk and declared it "blinky" (if you drank it, your face would start making that grimace where your eyes blink). One gallon was salvageable, the others went down the drain. Drat. (I was going to say "crap" but I'm trying not to say that anymore because I don't like hearing my kids say it.)

We took the beast apart, put it back together, and...it still didn't work. But man, was it clean! Unfortunately, clean, non-functioning refrigerators do not keep your food cold. Double drat.

We called a friend whose fridge was similarly dysfunctional and she recommended we call Don: the Refrigerator Whisperer. The man has worked his magic on appliances for over 40 years. He came over late Saturday night to look over our beloved Frigidaire, gave it a hearty shake and told us to wait and see what happened overnight.

We anxiously awoke Sunday morning to find that our freezer was working like a refrigerator and our refrigerator was working like a storage compartment. Progress!

Don came again on Monday, hoses and gauges and thermometers (oh my!) in hand. He fed the old Frigidaire some refrigerant, checked for pressure and leaks, and took its temperature. Things were looking good! The temperature was dropping! But alas, Don took his hat in his hands and with down-turned eyes declared our icebox incurable. We accepted its fate and went to look for a replacement.

After extensive online research and visits to various sales floors, we narrowed it down to two possibilities with the intention of returning later to make our final purchase. Upon our return home, we checked the fridge's temperature again. The freezer was freezing! The fridge was frigid! What small miracle had occurred to give us a last chance with our aging appliance? Many would say it was a coincidence that our faithful Frigidaire was no longer on the blink.

I say it was evidence.

Evidence of what, you ask? That we are blessed. Call me silly, but I think that someone upstairs is watching out for us, and I try to recognize the blessings He gives as such.

Spoiled milk? $10.
New refrigerator? around $800.
Blessings from heaven? Priceless.