Sir,
My son works for a market research company. That means he called you yesterday to ask you to take survey, nothing more. He was only doing his job. I realize that you don't want to be bothered. I get that really I do, especially on a Sunday afternoon. You made that clear by telling my son that he shouldn't be calling on a Sunday because it was a sacred day. My son apologized and you then proceeded to berate him by telling him he was worthless, and that his job is stupid, all punctuated by lovely profane and very un-sacred words. To top it all off you told him "Go kill yourself."
My son was already feeling bad because the call he that he had just finished was a lady that thought my son was her brother calling. Their mom had just died. She started talking to him like he was her brother and she broke down crying telling him "Mom's dead." My son apologized and had to explain that he wasn't who she thought it was. He told her that what he was calling about was irrelevant and apologized again, he felt horrible. He knows what it is to lose people he loves.
Then he got connected to you.
Let me tell you about my son. He is working at this job so he can earn money to be able to go on a trip to Europe at the end of his Senior year in high school with his AP art class. He loves art and has a talent for drawing. He loves camping and hiking and air soft. After graduation he wants to go to college and work in outdoor recreation. He is funny and bright. He has a tender heart that cares and feels things very deeply.
He also struggles with depression. He has had thoughts of suicide and has made at least one attempt. We have been working hard with him to get him to a place where these feelings are manageable. He ended up having to leave work early yesterday because of the things that you said to him. His supervisors were on the line and heard what was said. They told him that yours was the most brutal call that they have heard come through.
When my oldest son (who has autism) heard what had happened he was very angry and wanted justice. We tried to explain to him that really, there was no way that justice could be served. He was so angry.
I am I angry? Yes.
Am I sad? Yes.
Is there anything I can do about what happened?
No, not really.
I have to tell myself that maybe you were just having a bad day. You are obviously a very angry man and it's very possible there are bad things that have happened to you in your life that have made you this way. Maybe the only way that you can feel good about yourself is to tear down a 17 year old kid who randomly called your house and tell him he should take his own life.
I feel sorry for you. Your life cannot be a happy one.
I hope and pray that you can find some peace. That maybe one day you will be in a place where you don't need to belittle others. That if another call comes through on a Sunday that you can ignore it or just hang up instead of trying to bring others down into the vile darkness where you now reside.
As for me and my son? I will continue to let him know that he is needed here on this earth. No one else can take his place. That he is loved and incredible and important. As we all are.
Even you.
Sincerely,
A Mom
Monday, October 31, 2016
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Turning Corners
There is a corner that I have been going back to. A turn that I have taken many times in my life. I have taken this turn less and less with the passage of time but I still have been known to make it.
(Oh you don't have one of these corners? It's just me?)
It is a corner that I turn when I am looking back on my life and wondering if I have made the best choices. I don't like making that turn. I know it's not healthy to do so. I should be looking forward. Moving forward. Not turning back towards the past.
Yesterday I came to that corner. And was able to walk right by. There was still an urge to look down that street that the corner leads to but I didn't even look. I just held my head high, my gaze forward and kept right on going.
My life is good.
It's hard but it's good and I love it.
I love the people in it.
And I don't need to go back anymore.
It would seem that I have turned a new corner.
(Oh you don't have one of these corners? It's just me?)
It is a corner that I turn when I am looking back on my life and wondering if I have made the best choices. I don't like making that turn. I know it's not healthy to do so. I should be looking forward. Moving forward. Not turning back towards the past.
Yesterday I came to that corner. And was able to walk right by. There was still an urge to look down that street that the corner leads to but I didn't even look. I just held my head high, my gaze forward and kept right on going.
My life is good.
It's hard but it's good and I love it.
I love the people in it.
And I don't need to go back anymore.
It would seem that I have turned a new corner.
Friday, May 6, 2016
How Did She Do It?
How did she do it?
Giving birth to her first three children in three years. The beginning of bringing eight children into this world. Having a breakdown after that third child came along.
How did she do it?
When she was seven months pregnant with her seventh child (me), getting the call that dad had been an explosion and had been badly burned on his hands and face. Helping him recover and make it through, giving birth not long after the accident and dealing with a newborn baby the whole while.
How did she do it?
Getting up before dawn every day to make sure dad had a good breakfast before he went to work and packing him a lunch in his black metal lunch box.
How did she do it?
Making bread from scratch every Saturday. And scrubbing a linoleum floor on her hands and knees. A floor that had holes in it, so that the house would be clean for the Sabbath day.
How did she do it?
Milking cows, weeding the gardens, snipping beans, pitting cherries, canning fruit and vegetables, making endless peanut butter and honey sandwiches for the many mouths of her children as well as their friends. Cooking dinners from scratch every night.
How did she do it?
Spend endless hours in hospitals and emergency rooms and waiting rooms as dad went through one medical procedure after another. (I think he had 15 major surgeries)
How did she do it?
Sleeping on our couch for years and years because it was too difficult physically for dad to share a bed and there weren't enough rooms for her to have her own.
How did she do it?
Watching her children make mistakes and choices that caused heartache and pain. Having one run away from home at 15. And have others spending time in jail and prison.
How did she do it?
Make every one of those eight children feel like they were the favorite and the most important. And letting them know that she loved them no matter where they were or what choices they made.
How did she do it?
Mixing up sourdough pancakes for the amazing Fourth of July breakfasts. Cooking chili and packing a weeks worth of food for deer camp.
How did she do it?
Bury her husband, a daughter and her mother within a few short years.
How did she do it?
This question has been playing over and over in my mind as I have been faced with my own trials as a mother. Especially these last two years since she's been gone.
I haven't been able to ask her but I think I know how she did it.
Let me tell you.
She did it in white tennis shoes.
Those shoes took her on walks around the neighborhood and up to the pulpit in sacrament meeting to share her testimony.
She did it on her knees.
Often kneeling by the couch that was her bed or the recliner in the front room. There were many times that I would come in to the living room to find her on her knees speaking to her Heavenly Father seeking guidance and direction.
She did it through searching the scriptures.
Oh how she loved the Book of Mormon! Her copies were well used and worn and marked lovingly with tear stained pages.
She did it through temple attendance.
Serving in the temple both as a temple worker and as a patron. She loved attending the temple. One of my fondest memories from childhood is watching my mom ironing her temple clothes and the reverence she showed while doing so.
But mostly she did it by relying on the Savior and His Atonement and by doing her best to follow in His footsteps, wearing those famous white tennis shoes.
She did it with an all encompassing love.
Her love for everyone and everything came shining out of her face. Her eyes. Her smile.
She loved.
That is how she did it.
I am forever grateful for that love. I miss her every day but I still can feel her love. It sustains me and carries me forward on those difficult days when I ask "How can I do this?"
I can do it with love.
And so can you.
Giving birth to her first three children in three years. The beginning of bringing eight children into this world. Having a breakdown after that third child came along.
How did she do it?
When she was seven months pregnant with her seventh child (me), getting the call that dad had been an explosion and had been badly burned on his hands and face. Helping him recover and make it through, giving birth not long after the accident and dealing with a newborn baby the whole while.
How did she do it?
Getting up before dawn every day to make sure dad had a good breakfast before he went to work and packing him a lunch in his black metal lunch box.
How did she do it?
Making bread from scratch every Saturday. And scrubbing a linoleum floor on her hands and knees. A floor that had holes in it, so that the house would be clean for the Sabbath day.
How did she do it?
Milking cows, weeding the gardens, snipping beans, pitting cherries, canning fruit and vegetables, making endless peanut butter and honey sandwiches for the many mouths of her children as well as their friends. Cooking dinners from scratch every night.
Spend endless hours in hospitals and emergency rooms and waiting rooms as dad went through one medical procedure after another. (I think he had 15 major surgeries)
How did she do it?
Sleeping on our couch for years and years because it was too difficult physically for dad to share a bed and there weren't enough rooms for her to have her own.
How did she do it?
Watching her children make mistakes and choices that caused heartache and pain. Having one run away from home at 15. And have others spending time in jail and prison.
How did she do it?
Make every one of those eight children feel like they were the favorite and the most important. And letting them know that she loved them no matter where they were or what choices they made.
How did she do it?
Mixing up sourdough pancakes for the amazing Fourth of July breakfasts. Cooking chili and packing a weeks worth of food for deer camp.
How did she do it?
Bury her husband, a daughter and her mother within a few short years.
How did she do it?
This question has been playing over and over in my mind as I have been faced with my own trials as a mother. Especially these last two years since she's been gone.
I haven't been able to ask her but I think I know how she did it.
Let me tell you.
She did it in white tennis shoes.
Those shoes took her on walks around the neighborhood and up to the pulpit in sacrament meeting to share her testimony.
She did it on her knees.
Often kneeling by the couch that was her bed or the recliner in the front room. There were many times that I would come in to the living room to find her on her knees speaking to her Heavenly Father seeking guidance and direction.
She did it through searching the scriptures.
Oh how she loved the Book of Mormon! Her copies were well used and worn and marked lovingly with tear stained pages.
She did it through temple attendance.
Serving in the temple both as a temple worker and as a patron. She loved attending the temple. One of my fondest memories from childhood is watching my mom ironing her temple clothes and the reverence she showed while doing so.
But mostly she did it by relying on the Savior and His Atonement and by doing her best to follow in His footsteps, wearing those famous white tennis shoes.
She did it with an all encompassing love.
Her love for everyone and everything came shining out of her face. Her eyes. Her smile.
She loved.
That is how she did it.
I am forever grateful for that love. I miss her every day but I still can feel her love. It sustains me and carries me forward on those difficult days when I ask "How can I do this?"
I can do it with love.
And so can you.
Thursday, January 28, 2016
A Lifetime
It was just over a year ago that our daughter, Jillian came out to our family as gay. I sent my husband a message on the year anniversary that said "It's been one year since Jillian came out." His response?
"Yes, it has been a lifetime since then."
Truer words were never spoken. We have dealt with so very many things in this past year.
So many things.
In all honesty, I didn't have too much of a struggle with everything until November when the LDS church changed it's policy about people who are in same sex relationships. I'm sure many of you are aware of this policy change. If you are not Google can help.
That evening as I learned of the change I crawled into bed and sobbed. My sweet McKenna came and just sat with me as I cried, not knowing what I was crying for, because I was crying so much that I couldn't speak.
Mostly I hurt because it felt like the church that I love, that proclaims love; seemed like it was rejecting my child. My beautiful, funny, amazing child. Who is just as much a child of Heavenly Parents as you or I.
That hurt spilled out onto social media. And tried my best to explain my feelings in earlier blog posts that you can read HERE and HERE.
I had many private and public messages of love and support. There were also private messages asking me, with love and respect, the question, "How does this affect your family?" I tried to answer the best I could but my answers were short and probably not well thought out, and some I don't think I answered at all because I was too raw to go over it all again.
I will tell you this, I have cried more since November of 2015 than I have in my entire life. Tears will just start leaking out, as I go over and over and over this in my mind. To say it's a hamster wheel would be a kind way of putting it. I have wanted to share what I feel but I just don't know how to put it into words.
Sometimes I wish there was a way to communicate spirit to spirit, to truly have a "Heart to Heart" conversation. This life would be so much easier if that were possible. Don't you think? But that is not to be. All I can do is share and hope that a sliver of what I feel comes through. And in sharing I also put myself out there for ridicule and judgement. That's scary.
And because it's scary (and because of some judgement that has already occurred) I am still reluctant to share exactly what it is I am feeling.
Let me be perfectly clear. We have been surrounded by such love and support from family, friends, and our new ward. It's truly amazing. Our family has been lifted by your love and we have felt your prayers.
And I still hurt. My heart physically hurts.
I wish I could explain it but I can't. I want to explain it, but when I try to put it down there really are no words that can describe the pain.
Since November of last year, in just three months, there have been 32 suicides in the LDS LGBTQ Community.
32
That is why I hurt. People are dying. The average age of those 32? Seventeen years old.
Children are dying.
Because they feel unwanted and unloved.
Because they feel unwanted and unloved.
Today this article was published in the Deseret News. It's a good article. I HIGHLY recommend taking some extra time and reading it thoroughly.
LDS Church leaders mourn reported deaths in Mormon LGBT community
The church leaders mourn but what about the general population of the church? Do you mourn?Sometimes, and I don't know why or where it comes from, but the feeling that comes through when someone who is gay commits suicide, is a Scrooge like one of...
"If they'd rather die, then they had better do it and decrease the surplus population."
So, yes, I hurt.
We have so far to go. I have so far to go when it comes to showing Christlike love.
Please, please, please...
I AM BEGGING YOU!
Be kind to those around you.
Speak words of love and acceptance because you never know who is listening.
You could have a child who is gay and is too scared to say anything because of the words they hear you speaking or the jokes that you tell. There may be someone in your ward who has a child who is gay but is too afraid to say anything because they know they will find no support or love. There may be a member of your Young Women's or Young Men's group who feels lost and alone and worthless because of lessons that are being taught. You may have a brother or sister that is afraid to come forward and feels unloved.
Reach out to people. Love them. Treat them with respect. Be Kind.
Please.
And if you are someone, gay or not, who is struggling with feelings of in inadequacy, loneliness, heartache and despair. Please know you are loved and important and wanted.
Don't hurt yourself. This world needs you. I need you.
Even if I don't know you, know this...
****And if you really would like to have a conversation with me we can go to lunch or for a walk or a drive or even talk on the phone (although I hate talking on the phone) and I will do my best to explain. If you will do your best to just listen and understand.
Monday, January 11, 2016
You Are Loved
This is for my husband and my children and their friends
This is for my brothers and sisters and their spouses, my nieces an nephews, my great-nieces and nephews.
This is for my friends, near and far.
No matter your religion or belief system. No matter your sexual orientation. No matter your marital status, or if you can conceive a child or not. No matter your skin color. No matter what...
This is for those of you who dealing with struggles and doubt and fear.
This is for all of you.
This is for my brothers and sisters and their spouses, my nieces an nephews, my great-nieces and nephews.
This is for my friends, near and far.
No matter your religion or belief system. No matter your sexual orientation. No matter your marital status, or if you can conceive a child or not. No matter your skin color. No matter what...
This is for those of you who dealing with struggles and doubt and fear.
This is for all of you.
Take a minute today or in the next little while and sit and really listen to this song.
You are loved.
I love you.
Heaven loves you.
You are wanted.
You are NEEDED.
I love you.
Friday, November 13, 2015
You Are Called My Brother
As I have struggled with the events of the past week or so I have had friends and family reach out to me in love and kindness. Thank you all.
I want you to know that I am still here. I still have a testimony of my Savior Jesus Christ. I know that my Heavenly Father loves me. That this church is true.
I have read many Facebook status', news articles, blogs and comments, I have shared some of those on social media. In searching for understanding and healing I have turned to the words of our Latter-Day prophets and have found peace and comfort in all most anything that I have opened up. I have read about faith, hope and charity. Learned more about the word hope.
I am eternally grateful for hope.
As I was searching to find truth and understanding I came upon the quote above and it led me to the talk that this comes from "Ye Are No More Strangers" which was given by Bishop Gerald Causse in the October 2013 General Conference.
Following are some of the truths that spoke to me. May they speak to you as well.
"Though the membership of the Church is increasing in its diversity, our sacred heritage transcends our differences. As members of the Church, we are admitted into the house of Israel. We become brothers and sisters, equal heirs to the same spiritual lineage. "
Equal heirs.
"During His earthly ministry, Jesus was an example of one who went far beyond the simple obligation of hospitality and tolerance. Those who were excluded from society, those who were rejected and considered to be impure by the self-righteous, were given His compassion and respect. They received an equal part of His teachings and ministry."
They received an equal part
"In this Church our wards and our quorums do not belong to us. They belong to Jesus Christ. Whoever enters our meetinghouses should feel at home. The responsibility to welcome everyone has growing importance. "
Whoever...
"We all need to work together to build spiritual unity within our wards and branches...
Unity is not achieved by ignoring and isolating members who seem to be different or weaker and only associating with people who are like us. On the contrary, unity is gained by welcoming and serving those who are new and who have particular needs. These members are a blessing for the Church and provide us with opportunities to serve our neighbors and thus purify our own hearts."Unity.
"In this Church there are no strangers and no outcasts. There are only brothers and sisters. The knowledge that we have of an Eternal Father helps us be more sensitive to the brotherhood and sisterhood that should exist among all men and women upon the earth."
He then tells of this passage from the novel Les Miserables...
“‘This is not my house; it is the house of Jesus Christ. This door does not demand of him who enters whether he has a name, but whether he has a grief. You suffer, you are hungry and thirsty; you are welcome. … What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me [your name], you had one which I knew.’“[Valjean] opened his eyes in astonishment.“‘Really? You knew what I was called?’
We are all brothers and sisters.
"So, my brothers, it is your duty to reach out to anyone who appears at the doors of your Church buildings. Welcome them with gratitude and without prejudice. If people you do not know walk into one of your meetings, greet them warmly and invite them to sit with you. Please make the first move to help them feel welcome and loved, rather than waiting for them to come to you."Welcome everyone.
"I bear witness that no one is a stranger to our Heavenly Father. There is no one whose soul is not precious to Him."
Saturday, November 7, 2015
Stand By You - Rachel Platten
I cannot get enough of this song. I just can't. Forget about Fight Song...
This is my anthem right now.
This is my anthem right now.
Speaking Up and Speaking Out
During this past General Conference, of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints I watched and listened. And when Elder Nelson came to the end of his talk "A Plea to My Sisters", I felt that I was personally being asked to "speak up and speak out". But I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be speaking up about.
Now I know. I need to speak up about love.
I am not a Mama Dragon, and strangely enough I have never considered myself a Mama Bear. Although I have a deep respect for those who identify with those ideas, I do not.
I am simply a Mother.
A mother who loves each of her children deeply and wants them to be happy and well adjusted, and above all, loved. Last night I cried myself to sleep from the confusion and the hurt and the heartache that I was feeling about a policy change that was made by the LDS church regarding members who are in a same sex relationship/marriage.
Tears fell as I wondered how many amazing, talented, beautiful, creative, loving children of God were hurting and crying out. It was as if I could feel this wave of sorrow flowing heavenward. I cried as I worried about how many of those would hear this policy change and hurt so much that they would attempt to take their own life, or even worse, succeed.
If you think that this change won't cause such feelings and actions I say softly, you my friend, are wrong.
I don't have answers about this. I am not here to offer up explanations. I do not and will not presume to speak on behalf of my church.
I am here to say that there are people who are hurting and angry and sad and confused. You may have loved ones who this affects directly and hurts deeply. There may be people in your life, people you love and adore who are suffering immense pain from this and you are not even aware because they are too frightened to say.
You may not know any of these people personally, maybe you think this policy change doesn't really affect you. Or it's not that big of a deal, this is the way that it's been with people in polygamist families.
Are you surprised by the reaction to this policy change? Are you upset with those who are hurt and angry or who are questioning? Do you think that they shouldn't question? That we should just pray about it end of story? That all of this is just showing who REALLY has true faith and who doesn't? If you think any of these things, I say respectfully, you are wrong.
Before this year I may have fallen into any one of those categories. But I no longer do. This year I have been witness to the incredible pain that has and is being felt by the LGBTQ community. Pain that I was ignorantly unaware of.
I am here give that pain a voice. It may be small and soft but I will try.
It has occurred to me, that maybe, just maybe, the reason for this policy change is so that people can become more aware of the gaping wound that is out there. Then again, maybe I'm WAY off base. But I do think that we have only just begun to see and feel the heartache.
If you believe, as we have been taught in the LDS religion, that we are literal spirit brothers and sisters then this pain should mean something to you. This pain should tug at something in your soul. You don't have to understand the pain. You can't. You don't even have to agree with it but please, please acknowledge it. Don't try to down play this heartache with empty platitudes. Look deep into the eyes of our brothers and sisters...
Our LGBTQ sisters and brothers are dealing with a pain you nor I will ever understand.
Let me say that again leaving out those letters of the alphabet that seem to be so polarizing...
Our sisters and our brothers are dealing with a pain that you nor I will EVER understand.
I myself, have had a minuscule glimpse because I have a daughter, who at the beginning of this year, came out as gay. I say minuscule because we are at the very beginning of this journey with her. This week I was blindsided by the idea that it is highly possible that she will be considered an apostate in the future because of who she loves. My heart and my brain cannot comprehend this. I do not know. I cannot say that I understand.
I can say this. My love for my her will never change. I will stand by her in both good times and bad. She will know that I love her unfailingly. I pray that she will never question that her family loves her, no matter who she brings through the front door to introduce to us. I hope that anyone who steps across our threshold will feel of that love as well.
We are all children of a Heavenly Father and a Heavenly Mother who, I believe, stand unfailingly beside us. Who want us to stand just as unfailingly with one another. We have an older Brother who loves us with an unconditional, incomprehensible love. He, He is the only one who can understand our individual pain because He went through it all.
I can only hope that my words and actions are a small reflection of His. As the primary song says, "I'm trying to love as He did, in all that I do and say."
I am asking that you, my brothers and sisters, do the same.
Love as Jesus did.
Love one another.
Be kind to one another.
Especially at this time when emotions are high and spirits, hearts, and emotions are raw.
Be kind. Love. Reach out.
There is a great pain. As I said before, a gaping wound.
I do not speak with the force of a Mama Dragon, nor with the roar of a Mama Bear. My hope is that it is more like that of
Now I know. I need to speak up about love.
I am not a Mama Dragon, and strangely enough I have never considered myself a Mama Bear. Although I have a deep respect for those who identify with those ideas, I do not.
I am simply a Mother.
A mother who loves each of her children deeply and wants them to be happy and well adjusted, and above all, loved. Last night I cried myself to sleep from the confusion and the hurt and the heartache that I was feeling about a policy change that was made by the LDS church regarding members who are in a same sex relationship/marriage.
Tears fell as I wondered how many amazing, talented, beautiful, creative, loving children of God were hurting and crying out. It was as if I could feel this wave of sorrow flowing heavenward. I cried as I worried about how many of those would hear this policy change and hurt so much that they would attempt to take their own life, or even worse, succeed.
If you think that this change won't cause such feelings and actions I say softly, you my friend, are wrong.
I don't have answers about this. I am not here to offer up explanations. I do not and will not presume to speak on behalf of my church.
I am here to say that there are people who are hurting and angry and sad and confused. You may have loved ones who this affects directly and hurts deeply. There may be people in your life, people you love and adore who are suffering immense pain from this and you are not even aware because they are too frightened to say.
You may not know any of these people personally, maybe you think this policy change doesn't really affect you. Or it's not that big of a deal, this is the way that it's been with people in polygamist families.
Are you surprised by the reaction to this policy change? Are you upset with those who are hurt and angry or who are questioning? Do you think that they shouldn't question? That we should just pray about it end of story? That all of this is just showing who REALLY has true faith and who doesn't? If you think any of these things, I say respectfully, you are wrong.
Before this year I may have fallen into any one of those categories. But I no longer do. This year I have been witness to the incredible pain that has and is being felt by the LGBTQ community. Pain that I was ignorantly unaware of.
I am here give that pain a voice. It may be small and soft but I will try.
It has occurred to me, that maybe, just maybe, the reason for this policy change is so that people can become more aware of the gaping wound that is out there. Then again, maybe I'm WAY off base. But I do think that we have only just begun to see and feel the heartache.
If you believe, as we have been taught in the LDS religion, that we are literal spirit brothers and sisters then this pain should mean something to you. This pain should tug at something in your soul. You don't have to understand the pain. You can't. You don't even have to agree with it but please, please acknowledge it. Don't try to down play this heartache with empty platitudes. Look deep into the eyes of our brothers and sisters...
Our LGBTQ sisters and brothers are dealing with a pain you nor I will ever understand.
Let me say that again leaving out those letters of the alphabet that seem to be so polarizing...
Our sisters and our brothers are dealing with a pain that you nor I will EVER understand.
I myself, have had a minuscule glimpse because I have a daughter, who at the beginning of this year, came out as gay. I say minuscule because we are at the very beginning of this journey with her. This week I was blindsided by the idea that it is highly possible that she will be considered an apostate in the future because of who she loves. My heart and my brain cannot comprehend this. I do not know. I cannot say that I understand.
I can say this. My love for my her will never change. I will stand by her in both good times and bad. She will know that I love her unfailingly. I pray that she will never question that her family loves her, no matter who she brings through the front door to introduce to us. I hope that anyone who steps across our threshold will feel of that love as well.
We are all children of a Heavenly Father and a Heavenly Mother who, I believe, stand unfailingly beside us. Who want us to stand just as unfailingly with one another. We have an older Brother who loves us with an unconditional, incomprehensible love. He, He is the only one who can understand our individual pain because He went through it all.
I can only hope that my words and actions are a small reflection of His. As the primary song says, "I'm trying to love as He did, in all that I do and say."
I am asking that you, my brothers and sisters, do the same.
Love as Jesus did.
Love one another.
Be kind to one another.
Especially at this time when emotions are high and spirits, hearts, and emotions are raw.
Be kind. Love. Reach out.
There is a great pain. As I said before, a gaping wound.
I do not speak with the force of a Mama Dragon, nor with the roar of a Mama Bear. My hope is that it is more like that of
saying, I love you.
Sunday, October 25, 2015
White Hair
This post is one that is not written by me, but by my lovely daughter, McKenna. She was given a essay assignment in English to write about a belief that she has. I share this because she is wise and wonderful...
I Believe in the Beauty of White Hair
One of the most turbulent years of my life started the summer before junior year in high school, when my Grandma Norma moved in with us at the beginning of June and she began to have difficulty breathing. Her breathing got progressively worse, when on July fourth she wasn’t getting enough oxygen and six days later she passed away. My grandmother was five foot nothing with a shock of white hair and was tough as nails. When she passed it was a huge shock for my whole family, especially my mom. Mom struggled more than any of us and in her grief she decided to pay tribute to her mother by dying her hair white. In doing this I realized that white hair isn’t just a symbol of age or something to be ashamed of, I realized white hair is beautiful.
Watching my mother at that time in my life I saw not only heartache but also pride in being the daughter of that wonderful white haired woman. When people asked her why she dyed her hair she always replied with, “I did it for my mom.” To this almost everyone who asked responded with a compliment, saying how beautiful it was, furthering my belief that white hair is beautiful.
As the year progressed I was faced with new challenges and each step of the way my mother stood by me with her gloriously white hair. One of these trials was the death of my Great-Grandma Hannah. Like my Grandma Norma she was five foot nothing with a shock of white hair and was tough as nails. Her passing was difficult but also a joy as she was slowly losing her mental capacity. The thing about her death that was most shocking was that she was the last of the original “white-haired ladies” my family so lovingly called Grandma. It was the end of an era and white hair became even more beautiful as I saw it less and less.
The year that followed is my senior year and only my mother holds the title of “white-haired lady,” and as I’ve looked back at all my wonderful experiences with my Grandmothers I have solidified my belief that white hair is beautiful. Not just because it’s a reminder of these women I love but also because of what it means to me. It means hard work, endurance, love, patience, strength, and regality. I believe in the beauty of white hair and that it is an honor.
To have white hair to be among the noble and great who have seen many things, and know even more. My Grandma Norma used to joke that, “each white hair was caused by the stress my child gave me.” She also said she wouldn’t want it any other way. My grandma learned many things through her hard work and trials, earning her white hair along the way. I have personally earned one white hair, I found it three weeks before I turned eighteen and couldn’t be more proud. I hope to live my life in such a way that I will earn the title of “white-haired lady” and be seen as someone who works hard, endures, has strength, and lives life to the fullest. I believe that white hair is beautiful.
Thursday, July 9, 2015
Where I Got My Smile
A year ago today I got a call at work from my sister, Angie, she was sitting at the hospital with my mom who had gone in a few days earlier. Angie was pretty upset and worried because the Dr. had come in to talk to her and he had let her know that things were not looking good for mom.
I remember that day. I remember leaving work and going to be with my sister. Talking with the Dr. the and pulmonologist and then finally with a nurse who was very kind but also completely honest with us, and then coming to the realization that I was going to have to say goodbye to my mom, and soon.
I remember it like it was yesterday, instead of a year ago.
Firsts without those we love are always hard. These past few weeks have been especially difficult. I had my first birthday without mom here. It was a lovely day. I don't dread birthdays as some do so I woke happy and even took a little bit of extra time getting ready for the day.
As I went in to work and sat down at my desk the realization that there would be no phone call with my mom on the other end, cheerfully wishing me happy birthday, no birthday card, hit me. Mom loved cards. She loved reading through all the cards and finding the one that was just right for the occasion and for the person. There would be no perfect card from mom today. And the tears came.
Not long after that I got a text from McKenna telling me that I NEEDED to come home for lunch. I told her okay. When I got home that afternoon there was a sweet surprise waiting for me.
I remember that day. I remember leaving work and going to be with my sister. Talking with the Dr. the and pulmonologist and then finally with a nurse who was very kind but also completely honest with us, and then coming to the realization that I was going to have to say goodbye to my mom, and soon.
I remember it like it was yesterday, instead of a year ago.
Firsts without those we love are always hard. These past few weeks have been especially difficult. I had my first birthday without mom here. It was a lovely day. I don't dread birthdays as some do so I woke happy and even took a little bit of extra time getting ready for the day.
As I went in to work and sat down at my desk the realization that there would be no phone call with my mom on the other end, cheerfully wishing me happy birthday, no birthday card, hit me. Mom loved cards. She loved reading through all the cards and finding the one that was just right for the occasion and for the person. There would be no perfect card from mom today. And the tears came.
Not long after that I got a text from McKenna telling me that I NEEDED to come home for lunch. I told her okay. When I got home that afternoon there was a sweet surprise waiting for me.
I have no idea who the sweet soul is that did that for me. But whoever you are, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. McKenna told me that a lady and brought them by but she didn't know who it was. They were dropped off not long after my morning cry. People are good and kind.
The Fourth of July was difficult because that was mom's favorite holiday. She loved to have her family around her laughing and singing and enjoying life. I think that those days were some of her most treasured times. I know that they are some of mine.
This year I tried to keep the traditions going. It wasn't easy but I'm glad I did it. And I will continue to do them for her and for my family near and far.
Mom will have been gone for a year tomorrow.
I love her. I miss her. I could use her wisdom in my life so much right now. I could use her prayers. And I could most definitely use a hug.
But mom kept moving forward even when things were exceptionally difficult. When mom was pregnant with me (and I am the seventh of eight kids) my dad was in a pretty scary gas explosion that burned his face and his hands badly. I can't imagine how terrifying that must have been for my mom. And yet she did what she had to do and kept going. Usually with a smile on her face.
I tell you this, and I know it is true...
She is still moving forward.
She still prays for me.
I get hugs from her in my dreams.
She and dad and my sister, Pam, and my grandparents are all doing their very best to help all of us that they love so very much, as best they can from the other side. They are close. I can feel them.
So I will keep moving forward.
And I will do my best to remember her and honor her with my life, my actions and my smile.
Which in all honesty... I got from her.
Love you mom.
Always and Forever.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Homemade Rainbow Confetti, Slacks on Sunday and What I Know
On January 26th, two days after her 12th birthday, with a confusing and, quite frankly unclear (to some), card trick and a shower of homemade rainbow confetti our youngest daughter, Jillian, told us she was gay.
One of the ways that I chose to show support for Jillian was to wear pants to church the first Sunday that we attended our new ward. She doesn't like dresses and prefers wearing a suit instead. When I asked her if she would like me to wear pants to church with her she was all over that. My husband wrote a wonderful blog about our first week that you can read HERE.
That Sunday as I prepared to walk into the chapel in pants I was surprised by just how nervous I was. And the thought came to me "If you think it's hard walking into church because you are wearing pants how much more difficult has it been for Jillian for so many years?" How difficult must it be for anyone who feels like they don't fit "the mold".
I was only planning on wearing the pants that first Sunday but after that realization I decided that I would continue wearing pants. Not necessarily every Sunday but it will be a regular thing. In fact I wore slacks again today.
I would like to start a "movement" if you will to let people out there who may feel different or who are clutching a fistful of their own rainbow confetti afraid that someone might see it, that there are people in the church that love you and want you there. If you care to join me I will be wearing slacks every second Sunday. You can join me in this "Slacks on Sunday" if you feel like it. You can take pictures or write about your experience and post to social media with the hashtag #SlacksonSunday.
If you see me on a Sunday wearing pants (or a skirt) know that I love you for who you are no matter what, and if you need a hug or someone to talk to, I am here for you.
And if someone feels safe enough to let you catch a glimpse of their homemade rainbow confetti please know that your life will be richer, fuller and hopefully you will come to a deeper understanding of the second great commandment.
And, believe it or not, if you are showered with rainbow confetti your life will be blessed.
It most likely will be hard but you will be blessed.
This I know.
I would like to say that it didn't catch me off guard but that would be a lie. As I asked Jillian a short time later that night what exactly the card trick meant, she looked at me and simply said "I'm gay". Tears welled up in my eyes and I pulled her into a hug and told her that I loved her. It was a natural response. I didn't even have to think twice about it.
I want to be clear here, didn't cry because I was sad or upset that she is gay. I cried because I knew that this was going to be hard. And I told her that. I said "This is hard. This is going to be hard.
And she said "I know."
Our families have been incredibly loving and supportive and have thrown their arms around our family and especially Jillian. We have also found wonderful love and support through groups like "I'll Walk With You" and "North Star".
I am so thankful that Jillian felt safe enough in our family to shower us with her homemade rainbow confetti. Unfortunately there are many people out there that don't feel safe sharing who they are with those that are supposed to love them the very most. Since Jillian has come out to us we have had another dear person come to us and share their proverbial "rainbow confetti". I feel incredibly blessed and honored that they did so.
Our families have been incredibly loving and supportive and have thrown their arms around our family and especially Jillian. We have also found wonderful love and support through groups like "I'll Walk With You" and "North Star".
I am so thankful that Jillian felt safe enough in our family to shower us with her homemade rainbow confetti. Unfortunately there are many people out there that don't feel safe sharing who they are with those that are supposed to love them the very most. Since Jillian has come out to us we have had another dear person come to us and share their proverbial "rainbow confetti". I feel incredibly blessed and honored that they did so.
One of the ways that I chose to show support for Jillian was to wear pants to church the first Sunday that we attended our new ward. She doesn't like dresses and prefers wearing a suit instead. When I asked her if she would like me to wear pants to church with her she was all over that. My husband wrote a wonderful blog about our first week that you can read HERE.
That Sunday as I prepared to walk into the chapel in pants I was surprised by just how nervous I was. And the thought came to me "If you think it's hard walking into church because you are wearing pants how much more difficult has it been for Jillian for so many years?" How difficult must it be for anyone who feels like they don't fit "the mold".
I was only planning on wearing the pants that first Sunday but after that realization I decided that I would continue wearing pants. Not necessarily every Sunday but it will be a regular thing. In fact I wore slacks again today.
I would like to start a "movement" if you will to let people out there who may feel different or who are clutching a fistful of their own rainbow confetti afraid that someone might see it, that there are people in the church that love you and want you there. If you care to join me I will be wearing slacks every second Sunday. You can join me in this "Slacks on Sunday" if you feel like it. You can take pictures or write about your experience and post to social media with the hashtag #SlacksonSunday.
If you see me on a Sunday wearing pants (or a skirt) know that I love you for who you are no matter what, and if you need a hug or someone to talk to, I am here for you.
And if someone feels safe enough to let you catch a glimpse of their homemade rainbow confetti please know that your life will be richer, fuller and hopefully you will come to a deeper understanding of the second great commandment.
And, believe it or not, if you are showered with rainbow confetti your life will be blessed.
It most likely will be hard but you will be blessed.
This I know.
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
Moving
We are moving.
Three words that have rarely been strung together in my vocabulary.
We are moving.
For many people moving is the norm, a way of life, even, for some.
But not for me.
Where we live now is two blocks from the home where I was born and raised.
I never moved as a child.
I have seven siblings and some people have jokingly said that we have short umbilical cords. We all live within either walking distance or a very short drive of our childhood home. It was a good home. Not a perfect home but a good one. It was a safe place, as homes should be. It was full of laughter and tears and warmth and hugs. And most importantly, love.
My mom used to tell me that I would be her child that was going to move far away. That wasn't the case. I settled down just two blocks North. My children have gone and are going to the same grade school, Jr. High and High school that I attended. Our youngest graduates from 6th grade this week.
We have lived in this house for just under 18 years. Our two youngest were born here. And much of the raising of all four of our children has occurred in this little brown brick building. It has been a good home. Not a perfect home but a good one. I hope my children remember it as a safe place full of laughter and tears and hugs and warmth. And most importantly, love.
I have lived in the Timpanogos 3rd ward for, I would say, 40 of my 43 (almost 44) years. My grandmother was my primary chorister, my sister-in-law was one of my relief society presidents, two of my brothers served in different bishopbrics, one of my brothers was my bishop. And I have loved every minute of it. I have seen people come and go. And now I am one of those going.
I love the people of this ward and they have loved me into the person I am today. I am going to miss seeing their smiling faces, their warm handshakes and their gentle hugs on Sundays.
But now we are moving.
I will be honest with you. I am nervous. Nervous about going to a new ward in a new neighborhood. And it's not even that far away. (I am actually moving closer to my sister, YAY! although we will not be in the same ward.) Will people like me? Will they "get" me and my sense of humor? More importantly, will they be there for my family, for my kids, like this ward that we have lived in for years?
How is this all going to go down?
I don't know. I just know that when my mom passed away last July there was a "loosening", for lack of a better word. And I feel that this move is right, it is good. We will take this new, larger, brick and siding building and make it our home. And it will be a good home. It will be a safe place. Not just for our family but for everyone. We will fill it with laughter and tears and warmth and hugs. And most importantly, love.
We are moving.
Three words that have rarely been strung together in my vocabulary.
We are moving.
For many people moving is the norm, a way of life, even, for some.
But not for me.
Where we live now is two blocks from the home where I was born and raised.
I never moved as a child.
I have seven siblings and some people have jokingly said that we have short umbilical cords. We all live within either walking distance or a very short drive of our childhood home. It was a good home. Not a perfect home but a good one. It was a safe place, as homes should be. It was full of laughter and tears and warmth and hugs. And most importantly, love.
My mom used to tell me that I would be her child that was going to move far away. That wasn't the case. I settled down just two blocks North. My children have gone and are going to the same grade school, Jr. High and High school that I attended. Our youngest graduates from 6th grade this week.
We have lived in this house for just under 18 years. Our two youngest were born here. And much of the raising of all four of our children has occurred in this little brown brick building. It has been a good home. Not a perfect home but a good one. I hope my children remember it as a safe place full of laughter and tears and hugs and warmth. And most importantly, love.
I have lived in the Timpanogos 3rd ward for, I would say, 40 of my 43 (almost 44) years. My grandmother was my primary chorister, my sister-in-law was one of my relief society presidents, two of my brothers served in different bishopbrics, one of my brothers was my bishop. And I have loved every minute of it. I have seen people come and go. And now I am one of those going.
I love the people of this ward and they have loved me into the person I am today. I am going to miss seeing their smiling faces, their warm handshakes and their gentle hugs on Sundays.
But now we are moving.
I will be honest with you. I am nervous. Nervous about going to a new ward in a new neighborhood. And it's not even that far away. (I am actually moving closer to my sister, YAY! although we will not be in the same ward.) Will people like me? Will they "get" me and my sense of humor? More importantly, will they be there for my family, for my kids, like this ward that we have lived in for years?
How is this all going to go down?
I don't know. I just know that when my mom passed away last July there was a "loosening", for lack of a better word. And I feel that this move is right, it is good. We will take this new, larger, brick and siding building and make it our home. And it will be a good home. It will be a safe place. Not just for our family but for everyone. We will fill it with laughter and tears and warmth and hugs. And most importantly, love.
We are moving.
Friday, April 10, 2015
A Wobbly Safety Bar
Life is like a roller coaster.
You have ups, you have downs.
Sometimes it's super fun! Weeeeeee!!
Other times it can be extremely stressful or scary.
Lately I've been on the latter track, the stressful and scary one. It's felt kind of like the safety bar is faulty and I feel like I'm slipping out of the seat and I'm going to go flying off of the ride.
When your mom dies from a disease (Pulmonary Fibrosis) that you know she has but the doctors failed to tell you is fatal in 3-5 years and then her brother dies from the same thing three months later you get a little paranoid. Especially when it can be hereditary. My sister had a dry cough for a long time and that is one of the symptoms of PF, so she was rightly concerned that she may have it so she was tested. Thankfully the test came back negative. She did, however find out some other information about her health which, while good for her to know, still wasn't the best of news.
Then I started getting sick. Basically it felt like a cold but it hung around too long so I went into the doctor who started me on antibiotics. The first two rounds didn't do anything so I thought maybe it was viral and I tried treating things with OTC meds which helped a little but I just wasn't getting better. I had a cough and my lungs felt really tight so I went back in to see my doctor. He put me on some steroids and the heaviest hitting antibiotic he had. I felt better for about three days and then we were back to round one where I was feeling tired and out of breath and just plain yucky. When my doctor learned that I still wasn't feeling well he was concerned because he said that the antibiotic that he put me on "kills everything". And a little voice in the back of my head said "What if it's Pulmonary Fibrosis?"
My doctor and I have had this conversation before and I have had x-rays on my chest that had said that I didn't have it. But I was still nervous and really, the best way to screen for PF is an MRI. After we chatted my doctor agreed that I should have an MRI done to see if that might be what was going on. I didn't say anything about it on Facebook or social media because, in all honesty, I was really, really scared. I was coming home from work exhausted and passing out on the couch, I was out of breath just singing a song.
It felt like that safety bar was very, very wobbly.
Ty and I went to the temple the day before I had the MRI. I needed to find peace and maybe some answers to what the future might hold. As we went into the celestial room of the Mt. Timpanogos Temple I looked into the mirrors that are there, and I received my answers.
You are eternal. No matter what happens you will go on. And I felt peace.
I went in for the MRI on Thursday afternoon at 4:40 and Friday at about 7:15 I got the call from the doctor with the results. Thankfully there is no Pulmonary Fibrosis. However it did show that I have fluid around my heart. In medical terms it's called Pericardial Effusion. I was informed that the amount of fluid around my heart was minimal and not to be too concerned about it. I was told to get plenty of rest, drink lots of fluid and to exercise.
The safety bar feels a little less wobbly now. Still not locked in place but definitely less wobbly.
I am still tired. It's still hard to catch my breath some days. I get as much rest as I can but with having to work (thankfully it's not a physically difficult job), trying to get our house ready to sell, having four kids three who have varying degrees of crises whirling around them (who would have thought that my son with autism would be the one that I have the least amount of worry for?), selling my mom's house and getting ready to chaperon a bunch of high school choir kids in California... rest really isn't easy to come by. Nor is exercise. Fluids I can do.
Anyway, I just want to say that in spite of everything.
I am so very grateful to be on this ride.
I am thankful for the highs and the lows.
I am surrounded by amazing people who are on this ride that we call life with me.
I am blessed beyond measure with the best seat partner anyone could ask for.
And even though that darn safety bar still feels wiggly....
Everything will be okay.
You have ups, you have downs.
Sometimes it's super fun! Weeeeeee!!
Other times it can be extremely stressful or scary.
Lately I've been on the latter track, the stressful and scary one. It's felt kind of like the safety bar is faulty and I feel like I'm slipping out of the seat and I'm going to go flying off of the ride.
When your mom dies from a disease (Pulmonary Fibrosis) that you know she has but the doctors failed to tell you is fatal in 3-5 years and then her brother dies from the same thing three months later you get a little paranoid. Especially when it can be hereditary. My sister had a dry cough for a long time and that is one of the symptoms of PF, so she was rightly concerned that she may have it so she was tested. Thankfully the test came back negative. She did, however find out some other information about her health which, while good for her to know, still wasn't the best of news.
Then I started getting sick. Basically it felt like a cold but it hung around too long so I went into the doctor who started me on antibiotics. The first two rounds didn't do anything so I thought maybe it was viral and I tried treating things with OTC meds which helped a little but I just wasn't getting better. I had a cough and my lungs felt really tight so I went back in to see my doctor. He put me on some steroids and the heaviest hitting antibiotic he had. I felt better for about three days and then we were back to round one where I was feeling tired and out of breath and just plain yucky. When my doctor learned that I still wasn't feeling well he was concerned because he said that the antibiotic that he put me on "kills everything". And a little voice in the back of my head said "What if it's Pulmonary Fibrosis?"
My doctor and I have had this conversation before and I have had x-rays on my chest that had said that I didn't have it. But I was still nervous and really, the best way to screen for PF is an MRI. After we chatted my doctor agreed that I should have an MRI done to see if that might be what was going on. I didn't say anything about it on Facebook or social media because, in all honesty, I was really, really scared. I was coming home from work exhausted and passing out on the couch, I was out of breath just singing a song.
It felt like that safety bar was very, very wobbly.
Ty and I went to the temple the day before I had the MRI. I needed to find peace and maybe some answers to what the future might hold. As we went into the celestial room of the Mt. Timpanogos Temple I looked into the mirrors that are there, and I received my answers.
You are eternal. No matter what happens you will go on. And I felt peace.
I went in for the MRI on Thursday afternoon at 4:40 and Friday at about 7:15 I got the call from the doctor with the results. Thankfully there is no Pulmonary Fibrosis. However it did show that I have fluid around my heart. In medical terms it's called Pericardial Effusion. I was informed that the amount of fluid around my heart was minimal and not to be too concerned about it. I was told to get plenty of rest, drink lots of fluid and to exercise.
The safety bar feels a little less wobbly now. Still not locked in place but definitely less wobbly.
I am still tired. It's still hard to catch my breath some days. I get as much rest as I can but with having to work (thankfully it's not a physically difficult job), trying to get our house ready to sell, having four kids three who have varying degrees of crises whirling around them (who would have thought that my son with autism would be the one that I have the least amount of worry for?), selling my mom's house and getting ready to chaperon a bunch of high school choir kids in California... rest really isn't easy to come by. Nor is exercise. Fluids I can do.
Anyway, I just want to say that in spite of everything.
I am so very grateful to be on this ride.
I am thankful for the highs and the lows.
I am surrounded by amazing people who are on this ride that we call life with me.
I am blessed beyond measure with the best seat partner anyone could ask for.
And even though that darn safety bar still feels wiggly....
Everything will be okay.
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
The one where I ramble
I've been binge watching Friends on Netflix.
(Does the blog title give it away?)
Can you imagine if Joey were president?
Anyway...life.
I am thinking about getting my hair cut, really short. Not because I think I would look cute with that cut but because "wash and go" is super enticing right now, anything to make life simpler. Because life really hasn't been that simple lately.
Ross is exceptionally annoying
and whiny most of the time.
Except when he is wearing leather pants.
Losing my mom, two uncles and a grandmother in six months, interspersed with kids dealing with depression, suicide attempts, trips to therapy, life and family changing revelations, some worrisome weight loss, and three of four children now with jobs, are all things that tend to lend to complications.
Not exaggerating. I wish I was exaggerating, but nope.
Phoebe cracks me up
and I love her outlook on life.
Sometimes I wish I could be more like her.
I get up and go to work, come home and all I want to do is nothing. I've made it through "The Gilmore Girls" on Netflix.
Side note: How cool would it be if the writers of that show would write dialog for me?
That would be amazing.
Now I've moved on to "Friends". Maybe I'll follow that up with "Lost".
I need Monica to live next door and be my friend.
(except for that whole being a massive competitor thing)
That way she can come and clean my house...
She totally would want to.
My house isn't a total wreck but it sure isn't clean. Monica would have a heyday. Dishes and laundry are never ending, as usual, but I can't seem to find the energy to keep on top of it. (Not that I was super good at that before the complications.)
Mom's house still needs to be cleaned and put on the market. The garages still need to be gone through. I still have things of hers that need to be delivered to my siblings, things that have been sitting in my house for months. I can do things in fits and spurts but any prolonged ability to cope with more than what title to watch next is pretty much non-existent.
Chanandlar Bong cracks me up but sometimes...
his humor can be mean.
And he's slightly homophobic.
I used to make dinner on a regular basis. Now? Not so much. And I feel bad about that. In fact one doctor asked if we were eating healthy and I had to laugh.
Eating? Yes.
Healthy? No.
Trying to get figure out what to have for dinner and have the energy to fix that as soon as I walk in the door from work? That just isn't happening. I dread hearing the phrase "What's for dinner?" It takes all I have not to go completely ballistic on the person who is unlucky enough to utter those three dreaded words.
I don't have a whole lot to say about Rachel.
She is pretty focused on herself.
But Tom Seleck? Those dimples.
He is fine. Still is at 70.
How is he 27 years older than me?
I have gained back the weight that I lost (no the concerning weight loss isn't mine). And it's making itself known through lovely plantar faciitis, heartburn and heart palpitations. I need to exercise. My head knows this. My body is basically yelling at me to get moving. I know that when I do exercise I am happier.
I need to view exercise as my anti-depressant pill because, it truly is. I know I am depressed. I just have to read through this post to convince me, if nothing else will. But actually dragging myself out of bed at 5 a.m. to get to the rec center???
A gratitude journal would probably be helpful as well and yet I don't write things down. Why? Because I feel like the things that I have to be grateful for aren't as great as what other people have to be grateful for.
How lame is that?
Super lame, I tell ya.
And usually I'm not about comparing myself with others but for some reason in that area I am.
I am looking into why that is...kind of.
What I really love about Friends
is that they are SO good about being there for each other.
And when they fall short they own up to it.
And then they forgive one another and they move on,
and they remain friends.
Also they really make me laugh.
Especially Phoebe and Joey.
I know that everyone has things that they are going through. Other people have lost loved ones, spouses. There are those out there who are battling their own demons. Some have debilitating diseases both mental and physical. Some have children who are fighting to survive, others have lost children. There are marriages out there that are crumbling and couples that are doing their best to keep it together. Some of those marriages are no longer. People are out of work and hungry.
There is SO much happening, to everyone.
And again that "comparison" comes creeping in and so I share some, but not all of what is going on and I put on a "Good Face" because that's what I do. I love this poem by Shel Silverstein. He puts it perfectly...
I need to say that the people in my life are wonderful. My husband, my kids, my family and my friends have been truly supportive and I am so thankful for them, for putting up with me and loving me through all of this. I don't know where I would be without them.
Probably in a much worse place than sitting on the couch binge watching "Friends".
(Does the blog title give it away?)
Can you imagine if Joey were president?
Anyway...life.
I am thinking about getting my hair cut, really short. Not because I think I would look cute with that cut but because "wash and go" is super enticing right now, anything to make life simpler. Because life really hasn't been that simple lately.
Ross is exceptionally annoying
and whiny most of the time.
Except when he is wearing leather pants.
Losing my mom, two uncles and a grandmother in six months, interspersed with kids dealing with depression, suicide attempts, trips to therapy, life and family changing revelations, some worrisome weight loss, and three of four children now with jobs, are all things that tend to lend to complications.
Not exaggerating. I wish I was exaggerating, but nope.
Phoebe cracks me up
and I love her outlook on life.
Sometimes I wish I could be more like her.
I get up and go to work, come home and all I want to do is nothing. I've made it through "The Gilmore Girls" on Netflix.
Side note: How cool would it be if the writers of that show would write dialog for me?
That would be amazing.
Now I've moved on to "Friends". Maybe I'll follow that up with "Lost".
I need Monica to live next door and be my friend.
(except for that whole being a massive competitor thing)
That way she can come and clean my house...
She totally would want to.
My house isn't a total wreck but it sure isn't clean. Monica would have a heyday. Dishes and laundry are never ending, as usual, but I can't seem to find the energy to keep on top of it. (Not that I was super good at that before the complications.)
Mom's house still needs to be cleaned and put on the market. The garages still need to be gone through. I still have things of hers that need to be delivered to my siblings, things that have been sitting in my house for months. I can do things in fits and spurts but any prolonged ability to cope with more than what title to watch next is pretty much non-existent.
Chanandlar Bong cracks me up but sometimes...
his humor can be mean.
And he's slightly homophobic.
I used to make dinner on a regular basis. Now? Not so much. And I feel bad about that. In fact one doctor asked if we were eating healthy and I had to laugh.
Eating? Yes.
Healthy? No.
Trying to get figure out what to have for dinner and have the energy to fix that as soon as I walk in the door from work? That just isn't happening. I dread hearing the phrase "What's for dinner?" It takes all I have not to go completely ballistic on the person who is unlucky enough to utter those three dreaded words.
I don't have a whole lot to say about Rachel.
She is pretty focused on herself.
But Tom Seleck? Those dimples.
He is fine. Still is at 70.
How is he 27 years older than me?
I have gained back the weight that I lost (no the concerning weight loss isn't mine). And it's making itself known through lovely plantar faciitis, heartburn and heart palpitations. I need to exercise. My head knows this. My body is basically yelling at me to get moving. I know that when I do exercise I am happier.
I need to view exercise as my anti-depressant pill because, it truly is. I know I am depressed. I just have to read through this post to convince me, if nothing else will. But actually dragging myself out of bed at 5 a.m. to get to the rec center???
A gratitude journal would probably be helpful as well and yet I don't write things down. Why? Because I feel like the things that I have to be grateful for aren't as great as what other people have to be grateful for.
How lame is that?
Super lame, I tell ya.
And usually I'm not about comparing myself with others but for some reason in that area I am.
I am looking into why that is...kind of.
What I really love about Friends
is that they are SO good about being there for each other.
And when they fall short they own up to it.
And then they forgive one another and they move on,
and they remain friends.
Also they really make me laugh.
Especially Phoebe and Joey.
I know that everyone has things that they are going through. Other people have lost loved ones, spouses. There are those out there who are battling their own demons. Some have debilitating diseases both mental and physical. Some have children who are fighting to survive, others have lost children. There are marriages out there that are crumbling and couples that are doing their best to keep it together. Some of those marriages are no longer. People are out of work and hungry.
There is SO much happening, to everyone.
And again that "comparison" comes creeping in and so I share some, but not all of what is going on and I put on a "Good Face" because that's what I do. I love this poem by Shel Silverstein. He puts it perfectly...
I need to say that the people in my life are wonderful. My husband, my kids, my family and my friends have been truly supportive and I am so thankful for them, for putting up with me and loving me through all of this. I don't know where I would be without them.
Probably in a much worse place than sitting on the couch binge watching "Friends".
Friday, November 14, 2014
Struggle
The struggle is real. That's a phrase that kids (at least my kids) are throwing around these days. This last little while it's been pretty true to life for me.
The struggle is real.
I have been struggling with a deep down sadness. A feeling that is relatively foreign to me. In general I am, or have been, a fairly upbeat, happy person and I have noticed over the past few years a steady decline in my outlook on life. And I am unsure why.
I don't even really want to write about it but who knows, maybe it will help to put some of it out there.
Wednesday was a pretty low day. We have been considering selling our house and moving to a larger home. I had even begun packing up the "craft/junk" room. We also had our house and a storage shed painted, and were looking to do some other "fix it up" projects in preparation to sell.
To be honest with you I never thought we would move. I grew up a block and a half away from where we live now. We did have plans to build on to our home when my mom moved in with us. It looked like we would be adding on to our home fairly quickly and that would make things more comfortable for everyone. We planned on installing a walk-in tub for my mom and I had "drawn up" some plans of what I felt would work to give us the extra space that we would need. After getting excited about the prospect of this happening sooner rather than later, we found that financially it would be better for us to do it later rather than sooner. Plans for an addition were pushed four years out.
I know that doesn't seem like a long time, four years, big deal! But for me, it was. I have wanted to add on for a long time and Tyran never really was on board, finally he was. Mom was moving in our house is small on space as it is. I was very angry and sad and I cried.
It ended up being a good thing because we would have been in the middle of everything, or at least at the very beginning when my mom passed away.
With the death of my mom I felt something shift inside. Something that said "It's time to move on." So I suggested to Ty that we look into buying something bigger instead of doing the addition. I was both excited and scared at this prospect, but more excited. Our home isn't very large and I was looking forward to getting into a larger place. So were the kids (I haven't had the chance to tell them yet and I am not looking forward to it.)
It wasn't like we were thinking of moving far away. We still wanted to stay in town so that the kids wouldn't have their lives totally disrupted. On Wednesday Ty messaged me saying that the price of our home on Zillow had dropped and had been dropping for some time and that he didn't think that we should move any time soon.
That message was so hard to read. It felt like before with the pushing back of the timeline on the remodel. Like I had been offered something amazing only to have it snatched away just as I reached for it.
And I feel guilty. Guilty for feeling this way. Our home is a nice home and I am thankful for it.
And I miss my mom, she feels further away now. And I miss my dad. And I miss my sister.
And the holidays are coming up. People are asking about family traditions and every time that discussion comes up my heart just breaks and the tears start to flow.
And there's just so much more going on that is too personal to really put out here.
I feel so overwhelmed by every. little. thing.
Wednesday night was also our Relief Society Holiday dinner. I was feeling pretty down heading to the dinner after getting the information about us not moving. In fact, after the opening announcements I was trying to come up with a way to make an early exit in the most gracious way that I could so I wouldn't have a break down and have to leave in a flurry of tears. And then I was asked to give the closing prayer and I said yes. Heaven knows why I said yes, but I did.
We had a wonderful speaker who spoke to us about being strong and positive and using our challenges to grow and learn. She spoke to us about things that she had been through, breast cancer, a radical mastectomy loss of her husband's job, running for a council office and trying to push through some sensitive legislation. All of these things combining at the same time for her "Perfect Storm". As I sat and listened to her I knew what she was saying was good advice. Wise words from someone who had been through her storm and come through the other side...
You are strong.
You can control your attitude.
You can choose to be happy.
It's takes more work to be miserable than it does to be joyful.
Be grateful for what you have.
Gratitude will make things easier.
I know all of these things, I try to practice all of these. On Wednesday, however, I felt that I was failing miserably at all of those things. I said the closing prayer thanking Heavenly Father for the message that was shared and asking that we would be able to take it and bring it into our hearts and our lives. I helped with the clean up, drove home, got ready for bed and knelt down to pray and I cried. Cried out to my Father in Heaven. Then I climbed into bed with my husband and he asked me what I was thinking.
All I could say, in between sobs, was that I was sad. And that I felt guilty and ungrateful for feeling this way.
Thursday, wasn't as bad as Wednesday, although I was very tired and did not feel really well. I came home from work, made dinner and went to my bed to pass out so I could drive Ty up to the airport later on that night. He is in Florida for the next ten days.
Today is a little bit better. I had the morning off work to take George to a Dr.'s appointment and so I went and played volleyball after I dropped him off at school. I had a very real struggle even getting there. There are so many things that need to be done at the house that I almost didn't go. Walking into that "craft/junk" room and not knowing where to begin putting things back gave me such anxiety that I almost crawled back into bed and pulled the covers over my head until it was time for me to go back into work.
I was struggling. Hard. But I didn't give in. Even when I (still) couldn't find both of my knee pads, and even when I had to search a good ten minutes to find my workout pants (that almost sent me over the edge). I didn't give in. I made it to play volleyball with a great group of strong women, who had no idea how much they helped me. And the sadness subsided for a couple of hours. Though towards the end I could feel it working its way back to the surface.
I know that I am not alone in this. Everyone of us has something in their lives that is a struggle. It may be sadness, anxiety, loneliness, dealing with the loss of a loved one, illness, relationship problems, problems with children and a million and one other things.
And I guess I just want you to know that you are not alone. It does and will get better even if it seems like the "better" is infinitesimal, it is still "better".
It is a struggle.
And, as my daughter says...
The struggle is real.
The struggle is real.
I have been struggling with a deep down sadness. A feeling that is relatively foreign to me. In general I am, or have been, a fairly upbeat, happy person and I have noticed over the past few years a steady decline in my outlook on life. And I am unsure why.
I don't even really want to write about it but who knows, maybe it will help to put some of it out there.
Wednesday was a pretty low day. We have been considering selling our house and moving to a larger home. I had even begun packing up the "craft/junk" room. We also had our house and a storage shed painted, and were looking to do some other "fix it up" projects in preparation to sell.
To be honest with you I never thought we would move. I grew up a block and a half away from where we live now. We did have plans to build on to our home when my mom moved in with us. It looked like we would be adding on to our home fairly quickly and that would make things more comfortable for everyone. We planned on installing a walk-in tub for my mom and I had "drawn up" some plans of what I felt would work to give us the extra space that we would need. After getting excited about the prospect of this happening sooner rather than later, we found that financially it would be better for us to do it later rather than sooner. Plans for an addition were pushed four years out.
I know that doesn't seem like a long time, four years, big deal! But for me, it was. I have wanted to add on for a long time and Tyran never really was on board, finally he was. Mom was moving in our house is small on space as it is. I was very angry and sad and I cried.
It ended up being a good thing because we would have been in the middle of everything, or at least at the very beginning when my mom passed away.
With the death of my mom I felt something shift inside. Something that said "It's time to move on." So I suggested to Ty that we look into buying something bigger instead of doing the addition. I was both excited and scared at this prospect, but more excited. Our home isn't very large and I was looking forward to getting into a larger place. So were the kids (I haven't had the chance to tell them yet and I am not looking forward to it.)
It wasn't like we were thinking of moving far away. We still wanted to stay in town so that the kids wouldn't have their lives totally disrupted. On Wednesday Ty messaged me saying that the price of our home on Zillow had dropped and had been dropping for some time and that he didn't think that we should move any time soon.
That message was so hard to read. It felt like before with the pushing back of the timeline on the remodel. Like I had been offered something amazing only to have it snatched away just as I reached for it.
And I feel guilty. Guilty for feeling this way. Our home is a nice home and I am thankful for it.
And I miss my mom, she feels further away now. And I miss my dad. And I miss my sister.
And the holidays are coming up. People are asking about family traditions and every time that discussion comes up my heart just breaks and the tears start to flow.
And there's just so much more going on that is too personal to really put out here.
I feel so overwhelmed by every. little. thing.
Wednesday night was also our Relief Society Holiday dinner. I was feeling pretty down heading to the dinner after getting the information about us not moving. In fact, after the opening announcements I was trying to come up with a way to make an early exit in the most gracious way that I could so I wouldn't have a break down and have to leave in a flurry of tears. And then I was asked to give the closing prayer and I said yes. Heaven knows why I said yes, but I did.
We had a wonderful speaker who spoke to us about being strong and positive and using our challenges to grow and learn. She spoke to us about things that she had been through, breast cancer, a radical mastectomy loss of her husband's job, running for a council office and trying to push through some sensitive legislation. All of these things combining at the same time for her "Perfect Storm". As I sat and listened to her I knew what she was saying was good advice. Wise words from someone who had been through her storm and come through the other side...
You are strong.
You can control your attitude.
You can choose to be happy.
It's takes more work to be miserable than it does to be joyful.
Be grateful for what you have.
Gratitude will make things easier.
I know all of these things, I try to practice all of these. On Wednesday, however, I felt that I was failing miserably at all of those things. I said the closing prayer thanking Heavenly Father for the message that was shared and asking that we would be able to take it and bring it into our hearts and our lives. I helped with the clean up, drove home, got ready for bed and knelt down to pray and I cried. Cried out to my Father in Heaven. Then I climbed into bed with my husband and he asked me what I was thinking.
All I could say, in between sobs, was that I was sad. And that I felt guilty and ungrateful for feeling this way.
Thursday, wasn't as bad as Wednesday, although I was very tired and did not feel really well. I came home from work, made dinner and went to my bed to pass out so I could drive Ty up to the airport later on that night. He is in Florida for the next ten days.
Today is a little bit better. I had the morning off work to take George to a Dr.'s appointment and so I went and played volleyball after I dropped him off at school. I had a very real struggle even getting there. There are so many things that need to be done at the house that I almost didn't go. Walking into that "craft/junk" room and not knowing where to begin putting things back gave me such anxiety that I almost crawled back into bed and pulled the covers over my head until it was time for me to go back into work.
I was struggling. Hard. But I didn't give in. Even when I (still) couldn't find both of my knee pads, and even when I had to search a good ten minutes to find my workout pants (that almost sent me over the edge). I didn't give in. I made it to play volleyball with a great group of strong women, who had no idea how much they helped me. And the sadness subsided for a couple of hours. Though towards the end I could feel it working its way back to the surface.
I know that I am not alone in this. Everyone of us has something in their lives that is a struggle. It may be sadness, anxiety, loneliness, dealing with the loss of a loved one, illness, relationship problems, problems with children and a million and one other things.
And I guess I just want you to know that you are not alone. It does and will get better even if it seems like the "better" is infinitesimal, it is still "better".
It is a struggle.
And, as my daughter says...
The struggle is real.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Always and Forever
This post is about my mom dying.
And that makes it one of the most difficult things on earth to blog about but I know that it needs to be done. I need to get it out before the details get too fuzzy but I've been procrastinating. I don't know why. Maybe because if I write it all out that makes it all the more real? Maybe yes. Maybe no. Maybe I just don't know why.
My mom was 77 and her health hadn't been the greatest this past winter. She had battled with some pretty harsh medical issues that had left her feeling depressed and a little bit defeated. On top of those things she had scoliosis and severe arthritis in her feet that made it difficult for her to walk for some time. She was living in the house where I grew up and that sits on a half an acre. It was very difficult for her to take care of the house and the yard and even though my siblings and I live close by it was difficult for us to go over and help out with the yard as much as was needed.
My husband I approached my mom about selling her home and moving in with our family. I told her that it would totally be up to her but to think about it and pray about it and we would love to have her come and live with us. The decision was made and she was able to move in with us on May 23. She kind of lived in between the two houses for most of the time because we were trying to get her house cleaned out.
Mom brought with her the most amazing spirit. I am so thankful that I had the opportunity to feel that in my home. Her wit and humor. Her unconditional love. She seemed to be doing really well and feeling better than she had in a very long time. She was out and about driving her car and visiting her kids and grand kids. She and I went to the Strawberry Day's Rodeo. Things were looking really good.
And then she and Jillian and I caught colds just before the 4th of July. She was coughing and just wasn't feeling well in general. She didn't go right into the doctor because she wasn't sure if it was viral or what so she waited about a week. She couldn't get in to see her regular doctor so I took her in to Urgent Care where my family goes. We filled out all of the paper work, me asking her health questions and filling things out. When we went to the room to see the PA he wanted to do an X-Ray of her chest because he could here some crackling. An X-Ray was done. The PA came in and said that, yes it looked like she had pneumonia, but there was also something else. It looked like her lungs had a bunch of fibers in there that had been stretched and pulled. My mom looked up and said "Oh. I have Pulmonary Fibrosis." I remembered her telling me something about that a few years back and looking it up online. Angie also remembers the doctor saying that this disease is what she would die from. I remember reading that there was no treatment and there was no cure. I also remember not being super concerned about it. The doctors didn't seem too concerned and neither did mom when she told me, so I guess we had all put it out of our minds.
They gave mom a shot and put her on some antibiotics and sent us home. That was July 3rd. On Sunday July 6th mom said that she felt really short of breath, especially when she would get up to walk just down the hall or to move about the house. I told her that we needed to take her to the hospital but she didn't want to go, so I told her I would take her to InstaCare and see what they had to say. She agreed to that and she slowly got dressed. Just getting herself dressed was very tiring. At InstaCare before they took us in to see the doctor they measured her oxygen levels, which were at 88, and informed us there was nothing that they could do and we needed to take her to the hospital. By the time I drove from Lindon to American Fork, maybe a 15-20 minute drive (because I had to drop McKenna off at home first) her oxygen levels had dropped to 85 and the triage nurse immediately started her on oxygen. I called my sister Angie on the way to the hospital and she said she and Russ would meet me there.
The ER was pretty crazy and we had to wait a bit before they could take us back. Once they had us in a room in ER they put an IV in and took some blood and started her on some IV antibiotics and stuff to get her hydrated a bit more. She was fine if she was laying down but she had to get up at all it was almost too much. They did another X-Ray on her there and then we waited. It was getting late so mom told me to tell Angie and Russ to head home. After a while the doctor came in to tell us that her sodium levels were really low. So low, in fact, that she needed to be admitted to the ICU. Mom was not happy about that. In the ICU room the doctor asked me how many liters of oxygen she was on at home and I said "None, she isn't on oxygen at home." Which seemed to surprise him. He said that one of the side effects of Pulmonary Fibrosis is that your sodium levels drop. He said that it would take some time for them to get her levels of sodium up safely because if you bring them up too quickly that can be bad. Brad and Roger came and gave mom a blessing and she sent us all home.
Angie and I went back to the hospital the next day and they said that she was doing really well and that her sodium levels had come up much more quickly than expected and they were transferring her to a regular room. I headed to work and Angie stayed with mom. We thought she might be coming home later on that day but the doctor said that he wanted to keep her one more day. Tuesday came and Angie went over the hospital again while I went to work. I drove over there after work and sat with mom while she had dinner. She was sitting up and talking and joking and enjoying her dinner. I left that night thinking that I would be bringing mom back home on Wednesday.
I went to work Wednesday morning and I sent a text to Angie about 9:30 to see how mom was doing. I got side tracked and didn't see that she had sent three texts back asking me to call her. I called and Angie told me that mom was really weak. Weaker than before. They had been talking about sending her to a rehab facility but decided against it because when mom had got up to use the bathroom her oxygen levels had dropped into the 60's even while she was on oxygen. Angie was very worried so I sent an email to my supervisor asking if I could get off work and go over to the hospital to be with her.
When I got there Angie said that doctor, a Dr. Sires had pulled her aside and said "I don't mean to make you sad but this is terminal." He was very kind. I just wish I had been there with her so she didn't have to take in that news all by herself.
They had been giving mom breathing treatments to help her breath better off and on through the night and that morning. As the day wore on we could tell that things were not getting better. They had her on 9 liters of oxygen but they wouldn't up it any higher because he lungs just weren't absorbing any and her sats were sitting in the high 70's low 80's. My sweet niece who lives in Canada sent me a message on Facebook saying that she wanted to call and have her kids talk with Gramma Norma so I gave her the direct number to the room and she was able to call and mom was able to listen to those sweet kids and talk with them just a little bit.
With everything that was happening Angie and I decided that we needed to call a family meeting so we got on the phone and told all of the siblings and their spouses to meet up at mom's house at 8 p.m. I asked mom if there was anything that she wanted me to relay to everybody at the meeting. She told me to tell them that she loved them and to tell them to love one another.
Before we left the hospital there was a shift change of the nurses. At this time I think I was still hoping that mom would somehow pull through and she would be able to go into a rehab facility. As we spoke with one of the nurses she pulled us aside into an office and I asked her flat out if she thought mom was going to recover. She was not very optimistic and she tried to be as kind as possible as she told us that in her experience when people got to the point where mom was they usually didn't. We told her we were having a family meeting and asked if she thought we should tell family to come over and talk to mom. She said that if it was her she would. We informed her that we had a very large family and wondered if that would be a problem, without hesitation she said let them come over. She told us that they didn't have specific visiting hours and as long as we were quiet and respectful of the other patients people could come and go at any time.
I left the hospital and drove to mom's house. We all gathered together in the living room and we sat on folding chairs because the house had been emptied out getting it ready to sell. We had a prayer and I proceeded to tell them that it did not look good for mom. I know that it came as quite the shock. It still hadn't sunk in with me either. I told them that they needed to get a hold of their kids and have them come over and tell Gramma Norma that they loved her. I didn't tell them to have them come and say goodbye because I still wanted to believe that this wasn't going to be a goodbye.
When we returned to the hospital we found that they had put her on a different oxygen mask one that had a bag attached and this along with another breathing treatment had brought her SATs back up into the low 90's. Which was wonderful because when we told people to come, come they did. The grandchildren and the great grandchildren all that could showed up. The hallway outside of her room was lined with folding chairs that the hospital staff provided for us. The chairs in the small waiting area at the end of the hallway would fill and empty. Those who loved her came and surrounded her bed, gave her hugs and whispered I love you's. My sweet nephew, AJ, came with his ukulele and played and softly sang for her "Over The Rainbow / What A Wonderful World" in his beautiful voice. And mom was able to enjoy them all. Our family came and went until about midnight.
Angie, her daughter Kailee, Ty and I all claimed chairs in the small waiting area at the end of the hallway while the nurses gave mom some meds to help her sleep. At about 1 or 2 am I moved from the waiting area to the chair in mom's room next to her bed. I wanted to see if her sats were still up hoping against hope that they were. They weren't. They had dropped into the 80's.
I asked the nurse for a warm blanket and settled down in the chair. I didn't sleep much, just fitfully dozed in the chair for a while. I have always been able to use music to calm me thankfully I had my iphone the Pandora app and the hospital provides free wi-fi so I opened up Pandora as the music began to play it was if the playlist had been created just for me in that very moment. The very first song that began to play was an piano instrumental of "Time To Say Goodbye" and it was then I knew for sure. I knew that mom wouldn't be coming home.
As Wednesday slowly turned to Thursday we watched and waited. My brother Andy and two of his sons were working on a job in Vernal, Utah and we were sending him texts keeping him updated. He asked in the early hours of the morning if we really thought that he needed to come.
I went in and sat by mom's bed. And I said "Hey mom, I think that there are people waiting to meet you on the other side." and she popped her head up and said "So soon?" And I said, "I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the doctor will tell us differently when he comes in." She answered with "Well, let's see what the dr. says."
I knew that mom did not want any extraordinary measures taken to prolong her life. In fact we had just had conversations about it on Tuesday as I sat with her as she ate her dinner. As we sat in the little waiting area that morning the breathing specialist came to speak with us. I knew that the next step up from the current oxygen mask that they had on mom was a CPAP mask. And that basically forces air into your lungs. It is what they use before they intubate. He asked if that was something that mom wanted and I told him that I wasn't sure. He said that we needed to go and talk with mom and find out because before too long she would not be able to make that decision.
After that discussion with the breathing specialist the answer we sent to my brother was Yes, you need to come and you need to come quickly. We also were trying to get word to mom's brother and her sister-in-law that if they wanted to come and say goodbye then they needed to come over quickly.
I then went back into mom's room and told her that they wanted to put her on the CPAP mask and asked her if that would be okay. She said yes she was willing to give it a try. They put the mask on her and she was doing okay until she started to cough. (At this point she was coughing up phlegm and there was blood). She took the mask off and said she couldn't keep it on because she needed to cough we put the other mask back on but her oxygen levels were falling. The breathing specialist came in and asked why she didn't have the CPAP on and we explained about the coughing and he told us to just take it off when she coughed and then put it back on.
So we put the mask back on and I looked at mom and said "You realize that you aren't going to be with us for much longer, don't you?" And she softly nodded her head yes. I took her hand I told her what an amazing mother she was and how grateful I was that she was mine and I told her that I loved her. I also asked her if she would like a blessing once Andy got there and she again, nodded yes.
A nurse came in and asked mom if there was anything that she would like and she said "Yes. A Dr. Pepper." The nurse said that all they had was Mr. Pibb and would that be alright. I told them that yes that would be fine so they got her a Mr. Pibb and we took the mask off and let her have a small sip before putting the mask back on.
The nurses came in to check on mom often and we discussed what would happen once my brother and his sons arrived. That we would take the mask off put the small canula back on and give her some medicine to help her relax and be able to sleep.
Each of the family members were able to speak with her and tell her that they loved her, give her a hug and let her know what a wonderful mother she was. Andy arrived and he and his sons gave her their words and hugs and love and then the siblings and the spouses gathered in the room and she was given a blessing.
She was ready. She wanted the mask taken off. The CPAP was replaced with the canula and we let the nurse know that we were ready for the medicine that would help her to relax. Her brother and his wife and my dad's sister and her husband both made it and were able to see mom and be there.
Her family gathered into the room around her. I knelt by the side of her bed and held her hand and stroked her beautiful white hair. And then I sang her a song. "I Often Go Walking"
As I continue walking I knew that I was supposed to walk out to the Mt. Timpanogos temple. Mom loved that place so very much. I felt her with me that entire walk. Mom loved walking and when I was younger her early morning walks were her sanctuary. I saw her in a Peace Rose, her favorite flower. She was there in the wildflowers and in the finches. Someone had left a flag up in there yard and there was an apricot tree that was laden with apricots. I walked to temple and then headed back home. Mom was there. I could feel her spirit, vital and alive and young and beautiful. I was tired and she wasn't. She was ready for more. What an incredible experience.
And that makes it one of the most difficult things on earth to blog about but I know that it needs to be done. I need to get it out before the details get too fuzzy but I've been procrastinating. I don't know why. Maybe because if I write it all out that makes it all the more real? Maybe yes. Maybe no. Maybe I just don't know why.
My mom was 77 and her health hadn't been the greatest this past winter. She had battled with some pretty harsh medical issues that had left her feeling depressed and a little bit defeated. On top of those things she had scoliosis and severe arthritis in her feet that made it difficult for her to walk for some time. She was living in the house where I grew up and that sits on a half an acre. It was very difficult for her to take care of the house and the yard and even though my siblings and I live close by it was difficult for us to go over and help out with the yard as much as was needed.
My husband I approached my mom about selling her home and moving in with our family. I told her that it would totally be up to her but to think about it and pray about it and we would love to have her come and live with us. The decision was made and she was able to move in with us on May 23. She kind of lived in between the two houses for most of the time because we were trying to get her house cleaned out.
Mom brought with her the most amazing spirit. I am so thankful that I had the opportunity to feel that in my home. Her wit and humor. Her unconditional love. She seemed to be doing really well and feeling better than she had in a very long time. She was out and about driving her car and visiting her kids and grand kids. She and I went to the Strawberry Day's Rodeo. Things were looking really good.
And then she and Jillian and I caught colds just before the 4th of July. She was coughing and just wasn't feeling well in general. She didn't go right into the doctor because she wasn't sure if it was viral or what so she waited about a week. She couldn't get in to see her regular doctor so I took her in to Urgent Care where my family goes. We filled out all of the paper work, me asking her health questions and filling things out. When we went to the room to see the PA he wanted to do an X-Ray of her chest because he could here some crackling. An X-Ray was done. The PA came in and said that, yes it looked like she had pneumonia, but there was also something else. It looked like her lungs had a bunch of fibers in there that had been stretched and pulled. My mom looked up and said "Oh. I have Pulmonary Fibrosis." I remembered her telling me something about that a few years back and looking it up online. Angie also remembers the doctor saying that this disease is what she would die from. I remember reading that there was no treatment and there was no cure. I also remember not being super concerned about it. The doctors didn't seem too concerned and neither did mom when she told me, so I guess we had all put it out of our minds.
They gave mom a shot and put her on some antibiotics and sent us home. That was July 3rd. On Sunday July 6th mom said that she felt really short of breath, especially when she would get up to walk just down the hall or to move about the house. I told her that we needed to take her to the hospital but she didn't want to go, so I told her I would take her to InstaCare and see what they had to say. She agreed to that and she slowly got dressed. Just getting herself dressed was very tiring. At InstaCare before they took us in to see the doctor they measured her oxygen levels, which were at 88, and informed us there was nothing that they could do and we needed to take her to the hospital. By the time I drove from Lindon to American Fork, maybe a 15-20 minute drive (because I had to drop McKenna off at home first) her oxygen levels had dropped to 85 and the triage nurse immediately started her on oxygen. I called my sister Angie on the way to the hospital and she said she and Russ would meet me there.
The ER was pretty crazy and we had to wait a bit before they could take us back. Once they had us in a room in ER they put an IV in and took some blood and started her on some IV antibiotics and stuff to get her hydrated a bit more. She was fine if she was laying down but she had to get up at all it was almost too much. They did another X-Ray on her there and then we waited. It was getting late so mom told me to tell Angie and Russ to head home. After a while the doctor came in to tell us that her sodium levels were really low. So low, in fact, that she needed to be admitted to the ICU. Mom was not happy about that. In the ICU room the doctor asked me how many liters of oxygen she was on at home and I said "None, she isn't on oxygen at home." Which seemed to surprise him. He said that one of the side effects of Pulmonary Fibrosis is that your sodium levels drop. He said that it would take some time for them to get her levels of sodium up safely because if you bring them up too quickly that can be bad. Brad and Roger came and gave mom a blessing and she sent us all home.
Angie and I went back to the hospital the next day and they said that she was doing really well and that her sodium levels had come up much more quickly than expected and they were transferring her to a regular room. I headed to work and Angie stayed with mom. We thought she might be coming home later on that day but the doctor said that he wanted to keep her one more day. Tuesday came and Angie went over the hospital again while I went to work. I drove over there after work and sat with mom while she had dinner. She was sitting up and talking and joking and enjoying her dinner. I left that night thinking that I would be bringing mom back home on Wednesday.
I went to work Wednesday morning and I sent a text to Angie about 9:30 to see how mom was doing. I got side tracked and didn't see that she had sent three texts back asking me to call her. I called and Angie told me that mom was really weak. Weaker than before. They had been talking about sending her to a rehab facility but decided against it because when mom had got up to use the bathroom her oxygen levels had dropped into the 60's even while she was on oxygen. Angie was very worried so I sent an email to my supervisor asking if I could get off work and go over to the hospital to be with her.
When I got there Angie said that doctor, a Dr. Sires had pulled her aside and said "I don't mean to make you sad but this is terminal." He was very kind. I just wish I had been there with her so she didn't have to take in that news all by herself.
They had been giving mom breathing treatments to help her breath better off and on through the night and that morning. As the day wore on we could tell that things were not getting better. They had her on 9 liters of oxygen but they wouldn't up it any higher because he lungs just weren't absorbing any and her sats were sitting in the high 70's low 80's. My sweet niece who lives in Canada sent me a message on Facebook saying that she wanted to call and have her kids talk with Gramma Norma so I gave her the direct number to the room and she was able to call and mom was able to listen to those sweet kids and talk with them just a little bit.
With everything that was happening Angie and I decided that we needed to call a family meeting so we got on the phone and told all of the siblings and their spouses to meet up at mom's house at 8 p.m. I asked mom if there was anything that she wanted me to relay to everybody at the meeting. She told me to tell them that she loved them and to tell them to love one another.
Before we left the hospital there was a shift change of the nurses. At this time I think I was still hoping that mom would somehow pull through and she would be able to go into a rehab facility. As we spoke with one of the nurses she pulled us aside into an office and I asked her flat out if she thought mom was going to recover. She was not very optimistic and she tried to be as kind as possible as she told us that in her experience when people got to the point where mom was they usually didn't. We told her we were having a family meeting and asked if she thought we should tell family to come over and talk to mom. She said that if it was her she would. We informed her that we had a very large family and wondered if that would be a problem, without hesitation she said let them come over. She told us that they didn't have specific visiting hours and as long as we were quiet and respectful of the other patients people could come and go at any time.
I left the hospital and drove to mom's house. We all gathered together in the living room and we sat on folding chairs because the house had been emptied out getting it ready to sell. We had a prayer and I proceeded to tell them that it did not look good for mom. I know that it came as quite the shock. It still hadn't sunk in with me either. I told them that they needed to get a hold of their kids and have them come over and tell Gramma Norma that they loved her. I didn't tell them to have them come and say goodbye because I still wanted to believe that this wasn't going to be a goodbye.
When we returned to the hospital we found that they had put her on a different oxygen mask one that had a bag attached and this along with another breathing treatment had brought her SATs back up into the low 90's. Which was wonderful because when we told people to come, come they did. The grandchildren and the great grandchildren all that could showed up. The hallway outside of her room was lined with folding chairs that the hospital staff provided for us. The chairs in the small waiting area at the end of the hallway would fill and empty. Those who loved her came and surrounded her bed, gave her hugs and whispered I love you's. My sweet nephew, AJ, came with his ukulele and played and softly sang for her "Over The Rainbow / What A Wonderful World" in his beautiful voice. And mom was able to enjoy them all. Our family came and went until about midnight.
Angie, her daughter Kailee, Ty and I all claimed chairs in the small waiting area at the end of the hallway while the nurses gave mom some meds to help her sleep. At about 1 or 2 am I moved from the waiting area to the chair in mom's room next to her bed. I wanted to see if her sats were still up hoping against hope that they were. They weren't. They had dropped into the 80's.
I asked the nurse for a warm blanket and settled down in the chair. I didn't sleep much, just fitfully dozed in the chair for a while. I have always been able to use music to calm me thankfully I had my iphone the Pandora app and the hospital provides free wi-fi so I opened up Pandora as the music began to play it was if the playlist had been created just for me in that very moment. The very first song that began to play was an piano instrumental of "Time To Say Goodbye" and it was then I knew for sure. I knew that mom wouldn't be coming home.
As Wednesday slowly turned to Thursday we watched and waited. My brother Andy and two of his sons were working on a job in Vernal, Utah and we were sending him texts keeping him updated. He asked in the early hours of the morning if we really thought that he needed to come.
I went in and sat by mom's bed. And I said "Hey mom, I think that there are people waiting to meet you on the other side." and she popped her head up and said "So soon?" And I said, "I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the doctor will tell us differently when he comes in." She answered with "Well, let's see what the dr. says."
I knew that mom did not want any extraordinary measures taken to prolong her life. In fact we had just had conversations about it on Tuesday as I sat with her as she ate her dinner. As we sat in the little waiting area that morning the breathing specialist came to speak with us. I knew that the next step up from the current oxygen mask that they had on mom was a CPAP mask. And that basically forces air into your lungs. It is what they use before they intubate. He asked if that was something that mom wanted and I told him that I wasn't sure. He said that we needed to go and talk with mom and find out because before too long she would not be able to make that decision.
After that discussion with the breathing specialist the answer we sent to my brother was Yes, you need to come and you need to come quickly. We also were trying to get word to mom's brother and her sister-in-law that if they wanted to come and say goodbye then they needed to come over quickly.
I then went back into mom's room and told her that they wanted to put her on the CPAP mask and asked her if that would be okay. She said yes she was willing to give it a try. They put the mask on her and she was doing okay until she started to cough. (At this point she was coughing up phlegm and there was blood). She took the mask off and said she couldn't keep it on because she needed to cough we put the other mask back on but her oxygen levels were falling. The breathing specialist came in and asked why she didn't have the CPAP on and we explained about the coughing and he told us to just take it off when she coughed and then put it back on.
So we put the mask back on and I looked at mom and said "You realize that you aren't going to be with us for much longer, don't you?" And she softly nodded her head yes. I took her hand I told her what an amazing mother she was and how grateful I was that she was mine and I told her that I loved her. I also asked her if she would like a blessing once Andy got there and she again, nodded yes.
A nurse came in and asked mom if there was anything that she would like and she said "Yes. A Dr. Pepper." The nurse said that all they had was Mr. Pibb and would that be alright. I told them that yes that would be fine so they got her a Mr. Pibb and we took the mask off and let her have a small sip before putting the mask back on.
The nurses came in to check on mom often and we discussed what would happen once my brother and his sons arrived. That we would take the mask off put the small canula back on and give her some medicine to help her relax and be able to sleep.
Each of the family members were able to speak with her and tell her that they loved her, give her a hug and let her know what a wonderful mother she was. Andy arrived and he and his sons gave her their words and hugs and love and then the siblings and the spouses gathered in the room and she was given a blessing.
She was ready. She wanted the mask taken off. The CPAP was replaced with the canula and we let the nurse know that we were ready for the medicine that would help her to relax. Her brother and his wife and my dad's sister and her husband both made it and were able to see mom and be there.
Her family gathered into the room around her. I knelt by the side of her bed and held her hand and stroked her beautiful white hair. And then I sang her a song. "I Often Go Walking"
I often go walking in meadows of clover
and I gather armfuls of blossoms of blue.
I gather the blossoms the whole meadow over;
Dear Mother all flowers remind me of you.
And then the rest of the family joined together singing other songs, "Families Can Be Together Forever", being one of them. My husband retrieved his a small hymnbook that he had and began singing the hymn "Abide with Me; 'Tis Eventide" and we sang my mother to the other side. It was very reminiscent of saying goodbye to my dad just 6 short years ago.
My sweet nephew, Landon who lost his mom two years ago, came to mom's bedside and with his voice breaking told his grandma to give his mom a big hug from him and to tell her he loves her. Outside the window a grounds keeper for the hospital passed by with a weed eater going full force. Another family might have found this sound incredibly intrusive because it was quite loud. For us it was a sign that our Dad was there.
Mom passed away on July 10, 2014 at 11:12. It was peaceful and I feel unimaginably blessed to have been by the side of both of my parents as they have continued their journeys. Not everyone gets that chance and for that I am so grateful.
July 10 also happens to be my wedding anniversary. Some of you may find this sad. And at first I did too. But then the thought came to me, and I am certain it was mom sending it, I get to share my earthly anniversary with my mom and dad's first anniversary of forever.
I know that my mom lives on. She went for a walk with me on the Friday morning after she died. I got up early to go and started heading East to a walking trail that is in our town. It felt wrong and an knew that I was supposed to be going West. So I went around the block and as I came around the corner that started me heading in the western direction I saw the most beautiful full moon hanging in the sky. A sight I would have missed if I had continued on my original trajectory.
As I continue walking I knew that I was supposed to walk out to the Mt. Timpanogos temple. Mom loved that place so very much. I felt her with me that entire walk. Mom loved walking and when I was younger her early morning walks were her sanctuary. I saw her in a Peace Rose, her favorite flower. She was there in the wildflowers and in the finches. Someone had left a flag up in there yard and there was an apricot tree that was laden with apricots. I walked to temple and then headed back home. Mom was there. I could feel her spirit, vital and alive and young and beautiful. I was tired and she wasn't. She was ready for more. What an incredible experience.
I still feel mom very close. That feeling has been a buffer for me in many ways. A buffer for which I am eternally grateful because mom's death was very unexpected. Her mom lived to be 99 and we kind of figured that mom would be around for many years more. That was our plan. But it wasn't THE plan. THE plan was different than ours, as it usually is.
I am grateful for that plan even though it takes unexpected twists and turns. I am grateful for the knowledge that I will see my mom again. And my dad and my sister and my grandparents and other family that have passed on will be there as well.
Mom is an incredible spirit. Her love was, and is, unconditional. She is watching and guiding her children as best she can from where she is now. I know this. I feel her. I know she loves me and my siblings with all her heart and soul.
Mom is an incredible spirit. Her love was, and is, unconditional. She is watching and guiding her children as best she can from where she is now. I know this. I feel her. I know she loves me and my siblings with all her heart and soul.
Always and Forever.
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