NYC

 

 

Everett was feeling a little gypped that he hadn't lived in the Big Apple with the rest of us (out of utero, that is) so Daddy decided to appease him and accept a clerkship right in the heart of the financial district. Yep, we're moving back to NYC!

 

And speaking of New York, my man made the NY Times!:

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/22/us/at-stanford-clinical-training-for-the-defense-of-religious-liberty.html

Three boys on a couch

Lots of computer-watching is going on around here since we are all sick. Evie has an ear infection and RSV, Talmage has the worst chest cough you've ever heard, both have had (and broke) horribly high fevers. It's been a week to remember...or forget! Evie wants to watch "Boo Coo" (Blues Clues) or "Mouse" (Mickey Mouse) constantly and T just wants to watch as many shows as possible! We almost never watch shows normally, but when we're sick they have free reign. T always gets himself dressed for the day (even when he's feeling awful), but Evie and I are perfectly content to be in jammies until noon...or all day! I hope we're back to normal soon, but I must admit that I like the view of my 3 boys on the couch! 

Happy Surgiversary Evie Knight!

Dear Everett,

 

One year ago today you had your second heart surgery. Unlike the first surgery where the doctors at UC Davis went in through your back, this time you had open-heart surgery by the doctors at Lucile Packard (Stanford). You will never remember this day and I'm so very grateful for that blessing, but I can--and I assume I always will--recall every single moment of this day with ease.

 

I held you at 2 am on the morning of your surgery and fed you your last allowed bottle of pedialyte. I watched your Daddy dress you in a tiny green hospital gown and cried when I saw the huge smile on your innocent face. I handed you over to a tall, young anesthesiologist with sympathetic eyes that let you watch cartoons on his iPhone, and as you were carried down the hall to the Operating Room I felt my knees buckle under me. We waited for hours. You were number 224 on the patient board and even though I try not to be superstitious I smiled because 24 is my very favorite number.

 

When I saw the parade of nurses and doctors that escorted you from the OR to the ICU I was so proud of you, little Evie. I was nervous and overjoyed and proud. I know it sounds silly but at that moment I wished everyone on the floor would have stopped and cheered for the amazing thing that had just happened to you. Oh the mix of emotions a heart mother feels. No sooner were you tucked into your new corner of the ICU than I was a mess of stress. The recovery process is hard, maybe even harder than the waiting period (although each moment feels like the hardest when you're standing in it). The rest of the day and long into the night were spent by your side with tears in my eyes. My emotions went up and down with your ever-changing vital signs. Warning bells rang, doctors and nurses huddled over you and many prayers were said. If I had known that just five days later you would be well enough to take home I may not have been so worried, but unfortunately I didn't.  

 

You were the one that had heart surgery Everett, but both of our hearts were changed that day. You have helped me become so much more than I was. Thank you.

 

Love, Mommy  

 

 January 20, 2012

 

 

January 2013

(these pictures were actually taken last Sunday when Evie and I stayed home sick from church and had a sticker party...notice Evie's adorably sad sick eyes!)

Breathing is the first step

On the Monday before I left on an 18-month mission for my church, my mom had every person in our family write me a letter that I could read anytime I needed a little boost. Those sealed envelopes were my most prized possessions during my time in Taiwan. There were many times that reading the kind, supportive, energizing words of my family were all I needed to make it through a hard day.

Little did my mom know that the words she wrote in her letter would not only help me on my mission, but would become my mantra during trials longafter. She told me that when hard times hit, her best advice was to "take a deep breath, have a short cry, and get back to work." My mother's voice lovingly whispers those words in my head everytime I think my life is crumbling beneath me. And when that happens, I take a moment to really let the situation settle (breathe), give myself permission to mourn (cry), and force myself not to dwell (work).

It seems that lately I have found myself in a constant rotation of breathe, cry, work, breathe, cry, work. Just when Calm gets comfortable as my dance partner, Crazy cuts in and I feel myself gasping for air. Again.

The D and C was not completely successful, so I'm currently sitting at my computer with a body full of strange medicine with weird side-effects that are supposed to push everything out. This is Step 1 of a carefully planned process, which also includes a lot of blood work and other special appointments. Because not only am I still full of POC (products of conception is what I've learned I should call them), but there is a chance that this POC is harming my body in a serious way. The genetics from the fetus came back with a shock, my HCG levels are rising, and my young and healthy body for some reason does not want to rid itself of the darn POC. So my doctor is nervous, and she apologizes for "hovering" but I'm grateful she's being my advocate. Step 1 first, and then Step 2, and then 3, and we hope we don't get any further. But if we do, we have a plan. I'm a planner, so at least that part of this experience feels normal.

It seems ironic that the challenges I've faced lately have been born of a desire to have a baby. All I wanted was to invite another spirit into our home--a good and righteous and wholesome desire in my opinion. But from that desire, I have been met with defects and death and D and C's and now this. And I find myself again gasping for air, crying, and then trying to get back to my job of being a full-time mom to two beautiful boys who I absolutely cherish.

Sometime down the line I know I'll look back on this time in my life, smile, and say, "I'm so grateful that I grew so much during that experience." I'm super looking forward to that day! But in the meantime, thanks Mom for teaching me how to get through the hard stuff--I couldn't do it without you.

Talmage is learning to write his name and is so excited about it. I love his A's and E's especially. He begs me to draw him boxes so we can write letters!

 

Feeling so lucky to kiss this kid!

On Running

 

I am not a runner. I am not even close to a runner. I actually can't stand running. I played basketball in high school and running was our punishment for missed free throws or bad attitudes...and I must admit that I felt adequately punished while running my sprints down the court. So why, my friends, did I set a running goal this year? That's a question I've been asking myself a lot lately. Especially early in the morning when my freezing body is out pounding pavement!

 

Last year around Everett's first birthday I started having serious anxiety. Not only was I processing the anniversary of a traumatic experience, but I started stressing out about what awful fate would befall us next. When I found out we were expecting another heart baby, I started feeling guilty that maybe my thoughts were the cause. Guilty. That word can describe my feelings lately. I know it's not healthy and frankly it's neither beneficial nor enjoyable, but guilty I am. And about many things. I feel guilty about questioning whether our family and children could handle another heart baby--as if the baby was taken from me in response to my lack of faith. I feel guilty about not having the same fight and energy I had when I learned about Talmage and Everett's issues. I hope that Heavenly Father is not dissapointed with how I acted in the wake of Everett's diagnosis and surgery, but sometimes I feel like He might be. In a very loving sort of way. As if this baby was my re-test, since I failed it during the first go-around. But then I lost this baby. And I feel really guilty. I feel like I'm driving around in the passenger seat of my own life sometimes.

 

So back to running. Lately I think I've realized why it is important to me, and it all boils down to control. Hate it or not, I can go out every morning, huffing and puffing (both from the disdain of running and my lung's desperation for air) and finish my desired course. I may not be fast and it may not look pretty, but I can finish it. I can choose to finish it. And I'm in the driver seat. 



The Bubble Lady

Mark this on our list as COOLEST library activity EVER. Seriously, the Bubble Lady was amazing! She went from making bubbles with a flip-flop to completely encompassing people in bubbles. It was a great date for me and the boys!

 

Talmage found himself a seat front and center and loved every second of the action. Everett was scared to death of it all, but near the end warmed up a little bit and chased a few stray bubbles.

 

After the show we headed over a few blocks to visit our LA favorite stop, Yogurtland. It was just as good as the ones down south and it made me pretty trunky for the beach ;)

 

Evie gets his own yogurt now and I just let him go at it. For being so sweet he is awfully independent and will only let you help on his terms. Good thing I'm fine with messes cuz this kid makes them! 

 

I could be the spokesperson for loving Yogurtland. It really is the best!

T the Sunbeam

In the January after their third birthday kids in our church graduate from the nursery and head to primary. The cute little 3-year-olds are called Sunbeams and as of last Sunday T has officially joined the ranks! He was feeling a little nervous (he even told me on Friday that he would not be attending Sunbeams because he was going to be sick that day! Oh dear--pretending to be sick to skip school has already begun! ;) but ended up loving it.

 

I really wanted a picture of my boys together...this is as good as it got. Either my skills are lacking or my boys just know how to push my buttons!

 

And believe it or not, this was the best one I got of T. Really Talmage? Help a mommy out!

 

A few of us parents were hiding around the door trying to sneak a quick peak at our "big kids." This was when the new Sunbeams were being welcomed with the song "Jesus wants me for a Sunbeam." Tear.

 

Talmage came home with all sorts of stories (mostly about how he was so reverent...and then gave his teacher a run for her money!) and with a cute "All about Me" book. I love that Mema made the list of his favorite things...right next to bologna sandwiches (which he's never even seen!)