A Right of Passage for a Mother of all Boys

Thursday October 9th was a night of many firsts for our family.It was the first time that Quincy got to go to a Blazer's game with Tyler and also the first trip I took Braxton to the Emergency Room. To say it was an eventful night would have been an understatement. 

It all began with Tyler coming home from work and quietly telling me that he got some free tickets to the Blazer's game for that night. At first I was excited thinking up ways that I could find a last minute sitter so we could go. It was then that he told me he wanted to take Quincy. I'll admit I was a little bummed out, but he tried to explain his reasoning by telling me it was a pre-season game and he'd rather go to a season game with me. He said it would be great to take Quincy to his first NBA game, that they would be able to bond together. I was kinda thinking, "well that's all fine and dandy, but the other two are gonna be sad they don't get to go." Of course, after Tyler told Quincy about their plans, the other two were sad. I tried to help them get over it by promising them their own special treat while Dad and Quincy were at the game. This seemed to console them. 

Because the game was at 7:00, Tyler agreed they would take the max into downtown Portland to avoid traffic and parking, which allowed the little boys and I to have the car. We dropped them off around 6:30 and headed over to Goodwill. My plan was to let them pick out new books and then get a treat and watch movies at home. Everything was going well at first. 

We got to Goodwill and immediately headed to the children's book section. Braxton instantly found a spider-man book he wanted and Zayden found a touch and feel animal book. They selected some other books and I put them in the large part of the basket to look through them while I browsed around the rest of the store before we would head out. We were at the end of an aisle and I had turned back over my shoulder to glance at something when out of my peripheral vision I saw someone passing by and moved the cart about 6 inches towards me to stay out of their way. Little did I realize that Braxton had stood up more or less the same time I was moving the cart and the action of me moving it caused him to lose his balance and fall over the edge of the cart and hit his head on the hard floor. 

By the time I realized all this he was in mid air and I couldn't get around the cart fast enough to break his fall or catch him. He, of course, started to scream and cry. I scooped him up as fast as I could and held him in my arms, shushing him and hugging him, all the while he cried and screamed. Through his cries he said, "Mom, I feel Funny! I feel funny". To the best of my knowledge I think he was trying to tell me he was spinning or dizzy. We drew a small crowd and I was sort of embarrassed. An employee asked if we were okay and wanted to file a compliant. All I wanted was for him to calm down and politely declined any paperwork.

At this point my main objective was to get him home. He was scared and shaken up and I knew he just needed to be able to calm down. We paid for the books and left to go home. Once there I put him in pajamas and turned on a movie and laid him over my lap. I made sure he didn't go to sleep, but wanted him to be able to relax. At first he seemed to be better. Then after 25 minutes he started whining, and I asked him what was wrong. He told me his tummy hurt and he was going to throw up. We made a quick trip to the bathroom and he vomited. I felt awful for him. By now I was feeling more alarmed because up until this point I had no reason to believe it was worse than a bump on the head. He didn't have any signs of a lump or cut on his head where he hit. No blood. Nothing. But vomiting after a head collision? Not good. Tyler was gone still, in fact I knew the game would just have been starting. I sent a text to tell him what happened and I'd keep him updated. It was an hour later that Braxton threw up again. I instantly felt this knot in my stomach that this wasn't normal. I called the advice nurse who told me I needed to take him to the ER. 

Now, being a mother of all boys I try not to sweat stuff. I mean, if I panicked over every injury I'd be a wreck like every single week. Boys are energetic, they gravitate towards dangerous things. I try to keep calm about most of it, realizing it will be a regular part of my life. So when the nurse said the ER I was feeling sick about it. Was it really that bad? Was I overreacting? Was I under-reacting? I needed someone to help me sort out the rational thing to do. The problem was, Tyler was not there to be my second opinion. So who else to call? Of course, my own mom. I explained the situation and she, in her calmest voice of reason, confirmed I needed to take him in to be seen. As I'm talking to her Braxton throws up again. That was all I needed... to hear that it was the right thing to do. And in my gut I already knew it was, but was fighting to not lose it in front of my littlest two kids. I was trying to be brave, but starting to fall apart. 

I got off the phone with my mom, collected some shoes, a blanket for Braxton, a bowl for vomiting (I'm so glad I had the presence of mind to do that), and headed next door. Fortunately my dear sweet neighbors were home. I quickly explained that I needed to leave and wondered if they would watch Zayden for me. They graciously accepted and asked if I was okay to drive. Just the thoughtfulness of another mother (a grandmother, actually) made me instantly choke up. I reassured her I was. On the drive to ER Braxton vomited again. I felt awful that I couldn't comfort him, but did my best to get us there quickly. By the time we arrived at the Emergency Room it was 9:00. We were checked in swiftly and then sent back to an exam room to wait for a doctor. It was quiet and B seemed to be feeling better, but I still couldn't push away the concern I felt. We waited and waited. I had left several messages in that time frame for Tyler and still couldn't reach him. Around 10:00 we met with the ER doctor. He gave Braxton a basic mental and physical exam (asking where he was, how he got there, what happened, and to stand up, walk a straight line, push this, pull that, touch his finger to his nose, close his eyes and put him arms down). Braxton passed them easily. He's a pretty tough kid. 

What caused the doctor to be concerned was that he was vomiting, and instead of it decreasing it seemed to be increasing over the time since he hit his head. He was also concerned because his fall was over 3-5 feet (being his height, plus the height of the shopping cart). He suggested we do a CT scan to make sure there wasn't any internal swelling or damage to the brain. 

What is a mother to do? I felt helpless and even more worried, but worse than that I felt the need to convince this man that I wasn't one of those sick people who did this to my own child on purpose. I knew that the questions he asked Braxton and the subtle looks he would send my way were all part of his job, but I didn't dare try and convince him that it was just a freak accident. I prayed he would come to that conclusion on his own. 

We went in for the CT scan about 10:45 and Braxton vomited again. I knew it was set off by the moving of the bed we sat on. He was super brave as the technician told him to hold very still so we could get a picture of his brain. His eyes were super dilated and he looked so small laying there. I stood beside him and held his hand, offering words of comfort and encouragement. It was done in less than 5 minutes. We were sent back to the room to get results in 20 minutes. And so we waited. I was finally able to contact Tyler around this time (as the game was over). I found out that he had no cell reception in the gym and didn't get any of my missed calls, voice mails, or text messages. I think I scared the crap out of him when he walked out of that arena. We talked and I caught him up. I had arranged for my visiting teaching companion, Kerissa, to pick them up from the max. I told him to just go home, that there was nothing they could help with there at the ER. 

40 minutes later Braxton lay asleep on the hospital bed in a dim light while I listened to doctor explain the results to me. He said the good news was that there was no damage to his brain. Everything looked in order there. The bad news was that he had a skull fracture.It appeared to be on the smaller size and a clean break- meaning it should heal nicely on its own. He told me they were required to monitor him overnight at a different hospital and he would have to be transported by ambulance. I couldn't help the tiny tears that fell down my cheeks. The doctor gave me a warm smile and then left me alone. 

I sat in the dim light of that exam room having a wave of emotions rush over me. First I was relieved that he would most likely be okay, as the doctor had reassured me. All the monitoring was just procedure. I felt hopeful that everything was going to be okay. Then I felt guilt. Oh so much guilt, because if I had just NOT moved that cart towards me, if I had been paying closer attention then I wouldn't be stuck in the situation in the first place. I kept thinking, why didn't I just choose to stay home? We could have avoided the accident all together. I know now that was the adversary taking advantage of my raw emotions and making me feel like a rotten mother. More than those feelings I felt the love of my Father in Heaven comforting me and helping me realize that accidents happen and that things could have been far far worse. 

Tyler met up with me around midnight. I thought he was going to take our car and I had planned on riding to the hospital with Braxton in the ambulance, but he came with Kerissa's husband and he told me they gave him their extra car. It was so kind of them. 

Tyler hugged me and I could tell he was drained, thought probably not as emotionally drained as I was feeling. We said our goodbyes and I told him I'd call when we got to the hospital. Because it was a change or shifts around 1:30am we were moved to a different room to wait for the ambulance (apparently it was a busy night for them and we were not top priority). Eventually we left and I followed behind the ambulance. The interstate was empty. I kept myself alert by watching every movement going on inside the ambulance because the interior was lit up. Right before reaching legacy Emmanuel hopsital's ER I noticed the EMT moving around which made me feel alarmed at first. I couldn't go in the same entrance to the ER and ran in as quickly as I found a spot to park. I reached the front desk and explained my son had just arrived. She didn't have any info on it and told me to sit and wait. I felt slightly upset about not being beside Braxton and knew that they were there, but tried my best to sit patiently for her to tell me where to go. 2 minutes later she came over and told me to follow someone to his room.

I walked around the corner following someone and was led to room where I saw 5 people surrounding him and he was all hooked up to things. He looked small and helpless, tired, but brave. I almost cried right then and there seeing him like that. I knew I was exhausted, by this time it was 2:00am, and so I choked back any emotion I felt and re-explained the situation to a set of new faces. They all listened intently and gave Braxton the same round of questions. He patiently answered them. Eventually they said he appeared good and that we would wait for a room in the adjoining Randall's Children's Hospital. The kind trauma nurses fell in love with Braxton and asked him questions about his Halloween costume, his brothers, and his favorite sports. They told him how brave he was. He didn't even cry when they put in his IV. 

Their kindness and love was evident. I felt so thankful that they were making their best efforts to be calm and reassuring in a stressful situation, helping to ease my raw emotions. The head trauma nurse announced they were done and that we could sleep for a bit. I dozed off for about 15 minutes before the blood pressure cuff expanded, which was right next to my face (as we were laying side by side on his bed) and it scared me half to death. After that I couldn't really sleep. 

Around 3:00 we headed up to a room where we did another round of 20 questions with new nurses and doctors. They were all very kind and compassionate. At 4:00AM we were finally able to sleep. Though they had a pull out style bed for me to sleep on I opted to sleep next to Braxton (because such was his request). He woke at 7:00 and stroked my cheek gently. I was so tired I could hardly open my eyes, but felt happy that he was awake and feeling better. 

We spent the next few hours looking at his new coloring books and crayons from Kerissa and her family, a new foam shield and sword from the trauma nurse, and watching cartoons on the TV. We had breakfast and waited for Tyler to come. When he got there I updated him and made calls/ texts to family members. Braxton was feeling much better and eagerly asked when we could go home. 

Around 1:30pm the neurological surgeon came in to ask the same questions to Braxton, who was less enthusiastic about answering, as he'd been answering them all night. He said everything looked good and we could go. We finally got home around 2:00. The other boys were playing at Kerissa's house for the day. I totally crashed for a 2 hour nap. I woke feeling much better and grateful that everything had gone pretty smoothly. 

I still wish it hadn't happened, but I think the experienced forced me to get out of my comfort zone and ask for help. I've never had an easy time doing that. I felt overwhelmed with the amount of love we felt from family, nurses, doctors, friends, and neighbors. I surely couldn't have done that without all of their support. We are happy to report that after doctor's orders of "taking it easy" for a week --- not an easy task for an active 4 year old with two brothers--- that Braxton is doing MUCH better and seems to be back to his normal self. 

Counting our many blessings and looking for the chance to be able to pay it forward to others.

Life Lessons

I have discovered that as a mother to three there are so many variables in my life that I no longer have control over. And as if to reconfirm this fact I have had some pretty intense experiences to remind me that someone else in charge. Someone who is wiser, than I am. Someone who is more patient, than I am. Someone who loves me and is willing to gently guide me through this crazy, hectic, but mostly wonderful life. 

So it goes to say that over the past few years God has thrown me a couple of curve balls. He's slid on a couple more 50lb weights on to my bar. He has chided me far more often for not seeing His ways... because after all, I SHOULD know better. Ironically enough I have these conversations with my kids daily. 'Quincy, why did you hit Braxton?' Because he took my car. 'Would you like it if Braxton hit you?' No. 'Then why is it okay for YOU to hit HIM?' Usually this results in him lowering his head and looking away because he already knows the answer. And yet, I continually have to remind him of these things because he's only a little child, and of course, little children tend to forget things quite quickly-- like within a five minute time frame.

Much is the same in my relationship with God, lately. I know I should forget the house work far more often, and play with the kids. I know I should take more time to teach my children the things which will lay their spiritual foundations. I know I should spend more time talking with my husband than merely sitting next to him on the couch. Sometimes it's so easy to see where I could use improvement in my life, and in my role as mother and wife. And more often than not, looking at all those areas in which I could improve in becomes really discouraging. 

After all, it's far easier to fuss about a filthy (by my standards) house than to spend hours playing with cars with my boys. Or is it? Earlier this week I had this tender experience where I was gently scolded by God once again-- I'm sure He's thinking 'How many times have I showed you this?'. You see, I think there are often times when I like to pat myself on the back and congratulate myself on "surviving another day." But life isn't about surviving. It's about learning, loving, and growing. My kids aren't the only ones who are learning here... I am too. I pride myself on having a clean home. It gives me satisfaction to see my house neat and orderly. It makes me feel happy and accomplished and calm. I should stop here to state that when you have three busy boys in your home this is a nearly impossible task. And so I've learned to accept this.......to a point. I let the usual OCD tendencies relax a little bit so that my kids can have "fun"-----(which in case you were wondering, "fun" usually means they dump out every basket of toys they have and play this game of who can spread the "fun" all over the house in as many places as possible, the quickest? It's a great game. Really.) 

So back to my experience. Tyler had to work a half day last Saturday (something he rarely does) and so I made it my personal goal that I was going to do a super clean sweep of the house by 11:00. I wanted to have all the chores done maximizing what would be left our our Saturday when he got home. Anyone who knows me, knows that when I'm on a mission, nothing can deter me from it. I was focused. By 10:30 my last project was cleaning the toilets (one of my personal favorites with three boys... well, three that use the toilet-- did I mention that I can't wait til they can clean their own toilet? Yeah.) As I was hurrying along my way the older boys were fighting playing in their room and Zayden was mostly following me around while I cleaned. He would get whiny and beg me to pick him up. So, I'd pick him up, kiss him and put him back down. After several attempts to get my attention this way, and clearly not being satisfied with my behavior he chose to plop himself down on my lap where I knelt on the bathroom floor while attempting to clean the toilet.

My first natural instinct was to feel frustrated, didn't he know I was trying to finish cleaning? I mean, I was almost done. If only he'd stop pestering me to hug and hold him than I'd be done that much quicker.... and then I would have all the time in the world to snuggle with him! And as soon as I'd let the thought finish rolling through my head another took its place. This thought was more powerful. It rang with truth and immediately I knew where it came from: 'How many times will he want to run up to you for hugs? How long will he let you hold him when he's older?'  Immediately I knew the error of my ways. It was a simple, but powerful message and I stopped my cleaning right then and there. I scooped Zayden more fully onto my lap and kissed his head. I watched his eyes light up and he grinned at me. His face was full of wonderment and he looked at me like I was the coolest person in the world. I hugged him tighter and kissed his cheeks. He squirmed in my arms, but instead of pulling away just giggled like I was tickling him. Then he just sat there calm and still in my lap, soaking in some much needed love. I nuzzled my face next to his head and softly told him how much I loved him. I told him how someday he wasn't going to think sitting on his mom's lap and letting her squeeze and kiss on him would be cool, but that for the time being I was going to enjoy every second of it. In total this took about 5 minutes of time. A mere five minutes of my day where I gave my undivided attention to my child to express just how much I love him and allowed him to convey the same to me. 

By the end of the day I was shocked appalled by my behavior. I couldn't believe I had let myself get so caught up in the little menial tasks of every day life that I was neglecting my baby's needs. I mean, sure he was fed and clean, and I had kissed him a few times... but I was ignoring the message he was trying to tell me: 'I need you mom. I need your time.' I couldn't help, but think that God would never ignore me because he was too busy, especially if I said "I need you." I vowed right then to change my ways. I told myself I needed to refocus, because if I wasn't careful enough I might just miss all those subtle messages of when my children really need me. I was reminded that some day they'll get older and taller... their voices will get deeper and they'll have to wear deodorant... they'll have friends and want to be far more independent, but that they'll still need guidance and love throughout this life. They might just need a hug one day, although this hug will probably be disguised in the form of fast food or something more socially acceptable... but I don't want to miss it because I was too "busy". 

Being a mother has been one of the most difficult and rewarding things I have ever done with my life, and though I'm still like a child, learning and re-learning the error of my ways I find that when I look back on all I've done with my life so far, that I haven't done too poorly after all. 

And to reiterate this notion I want to share the happier part of my 'life's lesson'....

This quote is written on our kitchen dry erase board: 

"Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain." 

Yesterday the boys and I went on a short spontaneous walk to a neighborhood apartment play ground and as we were getting ready to leave it started to rain. It was a few drops as I buckled Zayden into the jogger stroller... and then it was a thousand more tiny droplets which fell on our heads. The boys were dressed in cotton sweaters, shorts (which they insisted on) and tennis shoes and I couldn't help, but kick myself for not being stronger in opposing their wardrobe choices because I knew they'd be quite wet by the time we walked back home. Sure enough what started as a light drizzle became and full on down pour in seconds-- like the kind of rain that one drop is as big as a quarter, kind of down pour. And as we walked/ ran down the sidewalk from the leaves of one tree's shelter to the next I just decided to laugh. My boys were happy running through puddles. We all had water streaming down our cheeks from our hair being so thoroughly soaked. Our clothes were plastered to our skin from the weight of the rain water. 

Oh how good it felt to just be in the moment, laughing with my children. We even took a picture to show just how wet we got, though it was hard to see with the flash....

I might not be perfect, just yet, but at least I know I've learned one thing: how to dance, run in the rain.

In the words of Micheal Buble`:

"It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life... and I'm feeling good......."

What a journey we've been on this week! 

Let me fill you in on the last part of our roller coaster ride.

Wednesday was normal enough. My parents generously offered to take the boys for me and Tyler went back to work. He said that when he got to work everyones eyes were glued on him and that they had some somber looking faces. All showed their concern and support. I spent most of my day cleaning, reading, updating the blog (for my own journal purposes), and overall trying to mentally prepare myself for what was coming in the next 24 hours. Finally 5:30PM rolled around and Tyler called to tell me he was on his way home. I asked him if I could receive a priesthood blessing that night. We are so lucky to have the gospel in our lives. I have never felt such comfort, peace, or joy in the event of having the blessings of the priesthood ministered upon me. It has truly blessed my life in many ways and I'm SO thankful Tyler is worthy to hold it.

A friend of ours was able to come over and help with the blessing. Although the words are too sacred to share (and it is difficult to express or remember exactly what was said) I felt peace. That night we went to bed around 11:30PM. It SHOULD have been an awful, nightmarish night of tossing and turning..... but it wasn't. I slept for almost 7 hours straight. When was the last time that happened? Not recent enough that I can recall. It goes to testify that the Lord was letting me get the much needed rest I had hoped and prayed for. In the morning I felt refreshed, something which may have seemed so out of place-- considering what we had to look forward to Thursday morning.

Tyler and I made the best of killing those few morning hours prior to leaving for the appointment the best we could. I started to feel slightly anxious as the clocked ticked closer to 11:00AM. While sitting on the couch I even explained that while I was young I had many opportunities to sing in front of large crowds... never once did I feel nervous until just as I was about to step on stage. It was a blessing and a curse. However, once I stepped out onto stage the nervousness faded quickly. Thursday morning was very similar. I knew since my appointment was at noon that most likely I should eat something beforehand, but the thought of food didn't sound good at all.

We drove to the appointment talking about various random subjects-- clearly trying to keep our thoughts away from the lurking black clouds that hovered inside them-- and made it to the specialists office 15 minutes early. The paperwork was short (taking no more than 2 minutes to fill out) and so we sat waiting another 13 minutes in the waiting room.

Once again, I found myself trying to preoccupy my thoughts.

I looked around the waiting room and noted three large painted canvases. One showed a beautiful yellow dandelion, the other depicted 3 older dandelions that had gone to seed, and the last portrayed something blowing the seeds of the dandelion from the stem. I found myself trying to find meaning between these images and the waiting room I was sitting in and I didn't have much luck trying to direct my thoughts in any positive direction.

Okay. 

Next distraction.

 I started people watching. I observed a lady in purple blouse and blue jeans. She was slightly plump in the middle with slender looking legs and looked kind of like an apple on a stick (or rather two sticks). I guessed she was in her mid 50's. She sat in the chair the whole time we were there with her ankles crossed, her hands folded in her lap, her body slightly shifted to one side of the chair, and her eyes closed. From the way she sat so still and breathed so steadily it appeared that she was sleeping.

How, I thought, could anyone be sleeping sitting up in a chair like that, let alone in a waiting room?

It was working.

I was distracted.

 I watched several other couples come in and out. Noting the women who looked extremely pregnant and the ones who might have been, but it was difficult to know for sure. After hearing three other names called before ours I finally heard a soft, "Kati?"

Suddenly I was back to reality....  

Deep breathe.

We ended up meeting with our genetic counselor who's name was Geri. She brought us back to her office and we got 'acquainted' (for lack of a better word) with our situation. She asked what we knew and went on to explain things that we didn't know so much about in more detail. It was reassuring to know that even during our conversation with her I felt hopeful. Geri sounded hopeful too, which I was praying that she wasn't one of those sugar-coat-everything-over-kind-of-doctors. She clarified that the quad screen measures four types of proteins (and if I remember right) two types from the mother's blood and two types from the babies blood (I could be wrong). However, there are four. Apparently the desired score for these protein levels in ideally around a 1.00. Three of my levels were close to 1.00. Great news for us! One particular protein level was only at a .15...... ooooooooww. Ouch! Not so good. Geri explained that these protein levels were unique to each mother and  baby and that while the .15 seemed low (statisically speaking) that perhaps it was a normal level for our baby.

Again. I was feeling some reassurance. Perhaps our little Pula didn't have to have a 1.00 on that protein-- and that everything would be fine. We went into further detail about our family history all the way from siblings, nieces, nephews, parents, aunts, and unlces to determine that we both come from pretty genetically sound, healthy families.

Although she did clarify again, that Trisomy 18 is NOT something that occurs through genetics, but rather happens spontaneously. I could tell that Tyler was more nervous than I was during some of our meeting with her. He had a very concentrated face, clearly trying to make sure he asked every possible question, understood everything, and was aware of what we were up against. He frequently shifted his weight from the front to the back of the chair. He twisted his hands, and eventually put them under the table on his lap. I could tell this was finally starting to take a toll on his tough exterior that he had shown me the past three days. I also knew that his hands were sweating, something I found myself smiling a little to myself about.

Personally I didn't feel overwhelmed by anything. In fact, I just had this strange feeling like 'I should be feeling panicked or unsure right now, but I don't.' It was a little weird at the time, but perhaps it was just the Spirit giving me the comfort I had asked for in the three days prior.

After about an hour in depth conversation with Geri she explained that they would be doing an ultrasound to look for characteristics on the baby indicating any warning signs for Trisomy 18. This I was prepared for. I had read about it. An ultrasound? No problem. Then she also explained that we could do an amnio as well to further be reassured that we knew everything was fine. An amnio would give 99% accurate results. She told us we could both that day or do an ultrasound first and then decide. She left the room to find the ultrasound technician and I was grateful to have a moment alone to talk with Tyler. I tried to briefly tell him I wasn't thrilled about the idea on an amnio UNLESS there was a warning showing up in the ultrasound. We agreed that we'd do the ultrasound first and then decide from there on the amnio. 

By the time 1:00 rolled around we were sitting in the ultrasound  room with our technician, a blond haired twenty something year old, named Kaci. She was kind and reassuring. She told us she was a fourth year ultrasound tech student and that her supervisor would be watching our ultrasound from the other room. I had an extremely full bladder at this point, as they recommend drinking like 24oz of water prior to the ultrasound. If I were in different circumstances I might have complained about the discomfort I was in (with a full bladder and a technician pressing over it for an hour and 15 minutes), but it was worth it. At the beginning she asked us if we would like to know the gender and replied with "Sure!"

(But we'll get to that part last....)

After going over Pula's little body with extreme thoroughness for over an hour we witnessed that our baby did not have clenched fists (one of the indicators). In fact Pula even 'waved' at us and I watched with a hopeful heart that we were on the right track towards celebrating over a healthy baby. We also saw that Pula didn't show signs on rocker bottom feet (another one of the indicators). I watched the screen with love in my heart over two perfectly shaped feet and ten tiny toes. We watched as the technician spent 25 minutes examining every angle of Pula's heart to make sure it was formed right. This part was difficult as she kept going over and over it again. I almost felt like I should be worried that something was wrong, but I couldn't manage to summon the concern. Then she spent another 20 minutes looking at the brain. Again, an area which I didn't know exactly what was "normal" looking. At last we were done around 2:15. It was long, and some of it extremely uncomfortable for me, but I didn't care.

 I was glad Heavenly Father let her be thorough.

Kaci left and told us that the doctor would be in to talk with us about the results. She said his name was Dr. Pandapati (pronounced like panda-potty--- what an interesting name, no?) Tyler and I were left alone in the room as we waited for the doctor to come it. At this point I was SO tired, I had got lots of sleep the night before, but I hadn't realized how emotionally drained I had become without even realizing it.

I still felt calm.

Tyler and I were BOTH starving.

After five minutes of sitting he started to look a little worried and said something like, "I hope they will be in here soon. I hope that somethings not wrong." I tried to reassure him, funny how he had been comforting me all week, that it was okay it was taking longer for the doctor to come it. I said, "Look, we want that doctor to be as thorough as he can. I don't care it he looks at for 30 minutes, we want to have the most skilled eyes to give the most accurate result to us so we can have some piece of mind." I think that Tyler felt better about me reminding him of this.

So we sat.

And sat................

At last the door opened and Dr. Pandapati walked in. He introduced himself and shook our hands. He sat on the edge of the bed, which seemed to be a technique to put us at ease. At least it appeared more casual to me. He explained that he had looked over the ultrasound results. He told us he looks for these things every day. He said that after examining the ultrasound closely he could not find one single indicator for Trisomy 18 or for anything else on that matter. He told us that Pula looked like a perfectly normal and healthy baby.

I can not express how it felt to hear him say those words. Up until that point we had only been hoping that our baby could be healthy, but had known nothing for sure. I felt a small smile and tried really hard to blink back the tears of joy. He paused for a moment, letting us absorb the information, and then continued... He explained that we could do an amnio, we did have the choice, but that in his professional opinion he felt it wasn't needed. He even went even further to say that he wasn't being "wishy-washy" about the amnio, but he didn't see a single reason why we should. He also explained that we didn't have to make the decision on the spot. We could also come back in a week if we had changed our minds, but I didn't need to hear that part. I knew my mind was made up. I felt the Spirit confirm that my worst fears were over.

My baby was going to live.

My baby was healthy.

I would hold my sweet Pula in my arms.

I would watch my child grow...

I would have the sweet experience of motherhood here on Earth once more.

As we walked out of the office and down the hall I stopped to look at Tyler. I could barely contain my emotions. With tears in my eyes he held me close and though no words were spoken I could feel his spirit radiating the same joy I felt. We were both blessed. We were blessed to witness a miracle. Some people may disagree... but I would never discount the miracle that occurred that day.

God gave us a baby... and it would live a full, healthy life with our family.

Upon reflection I have realized that even though our roller coaster ride has ended that there are many lessons I have learned in the process. I have come to be TRULY thankful for everything I have. You know that cliche` saying: 'You don't know what you have until it's gone'? Well I'm grateful that God didn't necessarily have to "take something away" from me to realize the importance of it. He gave me what I could handle. He taught me the important lesson of growth.

Isn't growing awful while you're doing it?

Poor Braxton is getting his two year molars, he's practically miserable. I bet if he could talk he'd probably tell me he could make do without those teeth. We all know better. We have teeth.... although we may have forgotten the pain that it was to get them, it helped us to be stronger. It was the beginning of our lessons for our purpose here on Earth: to gain a body (which would feel pain-- but also JOY!), to learn and grow, and to return to our Father in Heaven.

I have realized that this pregnancy I have had a tremendous amount of growth going on. It's easier to see the process looking back now. First I was shown how much stronger I am physically than I thought. I hated those first 4 months of sickness. I could barely function some days. I pleaded many times for God to just let me catch my breath. The phrase "I can't!" eventually turned into "I don't think I can, but apparently you know better, so I'll try." During what seemed to be eternity at the time, I learned that the physical pain of pregnancy symptoms would be more manageable, because I was getting used to the weight of "growth". Next I was taught the real value of my baby.... a growth for me in the emotional department. After weeks of agonizing over the fact that might never have a baby girl God gave me a wake up call. (It was the phone call from my doctor). Last, and perhaps most important, was the growth that took place over this past week... spiritual growth. I learned to truly surrender to God's plan. A control freak of 25 years, I was not the most teachable subject. It was most painful to realize the horrifying outcomes I was being faced with at the time, but I gained perspective (eternally speaking) and also a greater closeness to my Heavenly Father.

Although our story had a happy ending, I KNOW that I am not the same woman that I was a week ago. I have momentarily put all my worldly concerns aside and have seen through my Heavenly Father's eyes. I am so special to my Father in Heaven. He has a very divine plan for me. Perhaps it won't be easy, but it will be worth it if I can endure. My babies are special too... in their lives they will face more difficult things than I have ever imagined. I have to be stronger in order to prepare them to be strongest in a world of chaos.

And now, for perhaps the most wonderful news of all.....

We are having a healthy baby boy.

Yup.

I never thought I'd be so thrilled, until recently.:)

I know he will be strong.

I'm just glad that I will get to see him in person.

Counting my blessing daily....

Many thanks are expressed to my Heavenly Father, Tyler, family, and friends for the support on this difficult journey of growth.

Apparently There are More Important Things to Worry About

Our Halloween this year was not a traditional fun filled, care-free, silly costumes, load your buckets with all kinds of sweets sort of holiday. It started out normal that way though.....

Last year I took our boys trick or treating to some stores (which is common around here) and it's quite nice for the little kids, especially since they do it during the day. Since we had such success last year we decided that this year we would do it again. I had the boys dressed up. They were looking particularly cute in their little costumes. I packed them up in the car, making sure to grab the camera and other Halloween trick or treating essentials (stroller, snacks, an umbrella...) and we headed off.

The weather seemed fairly cooperative when we pulled into the parking lot. We were ready for some candy-filled fun. We started at one end of the businesses and worked our way down. Things we going smoothly enough... Braxton had his hands preoccupied with a grilled cheese sandwich and Quincy was happy enough to repeat 'Trick or Treat' at each store. As we nearing the end of the strip my phone started ringing. I looked at the number and didn't recognize it. Normally I don't answer the phone unless the number looks familiar. Just as I was about to pick it up to answer it stopped ringing. My immediate thought was that it must have been a wrong number. However, just as soon as I set my phone back down on the stroller it started to ring again. I looked at it once more to see the same unfamiliar number calling.

 I answered.

Immediately I heard my doctors voice say "Kati, it's Dr. Lin... how are you doing?" At this point Quincy is still happily trick or treating and I'm slightly distracted. I responded with "Oh, I'm fine. I'm just trick or treating with my boys."

Looking back on the situation I should have picked up on a few cues... 1:) doctors don't usually call just to chat and 2:) that she immediately got to business by asking if I had a minute to 'talk'.

I told her 'sure I have a minute'-- thinking nothing odd about her phone call. I took a minute to pull Quincy to part of the sidewalk so we could sit down and I could better listen. She further explained that my blood work came back and that there were some abnormalities. Again I should have been more concerned at this point, but for some reason I wasn't. I continued listening. She went on to tell me that because of the abnormalities shown in my work that my baby was at a higher risk for something called Trisomy 18. She explained that the effects of this disorder were very severe. She told me that it was very rare to carry any further than 32 weeks, that  if I was fortunate enough to carry that long that most likely the baby would be still born, that even more rare-- if my baby survived it would have very little brain function and be wheelchair bound.

You know the cartoon sound effect where you hear a loud high pitched whistle followed by a thundering booming bomb crash?

That's exactly how I saw the situation.

Here I was going merrily about my Halloween day, with not a care in the world when suddenly there was a huge bomb my doctor was delivering via cell phone. I was clearly in shock and could even remember having the same feeling after my car accident. Although my head was hearing all the awful things that she was saying over the phone my body wasn't registering any of the pain yet. I could feel my weight shift slowly down towards the side walk. She followed up our phone conversation by telling me to go home. Sit down. Think. Take it easy. She also said that she would be referring me to genetic counselor and to expect to hear from them no later than Wednesday.

I remember hanging up the phone, Quincy looking at me expectantly and saying "can we go now mom?" I felt numb. Like I was seeing and hearing the things all around me, but I wasn't really there. I stood up straight, took a deep breath, and told Quincy we could finish. We only had 3 stores left. As we walked I started to descend down into my body again. I slowly began to feel the weight of pain threatening to crush my very being. I recognized that trembling movement in my stomach and realized I was about to loose it. Tears started to well up in my eyes and I quickly blinked them back as best as I could. I didn't want my boys to see me like that. By the grace of God I was able to hold back my emotions for 3 more stores. Just as we finished the last store the clouds turned dark and it started to rain.

It was like the weather was a reflection of my emotions. A once sunny care-free day suddenly looked full of gloom and despair. We hurried quickly back to the car and I manged to get everyone safely buckled inside. I grabbed my phone and sent Tyler a quick text: 'I need to talk to you. We're almost done trick or treating. I have some bad news about baby.' Tyler doesn't always have a chance to check his text messages during work so I was slightly surprised when he responded right back with: 'What?' I couldn't bare to write everything in text and replied: 'Too complicated to text. I'm really upset right now.' Poor Tyler... I probably scared the crap out of him right then. He told me later that his immediate thought was that I had had a miscarriage.

A few minutes later we were headed out of the parking lot when he called me. In hind sight I probably shouldn't have answered my phone... after all, I was driving, it was raining a little, and clearly I was distressed (perhaps a deadly combination for driving). He asked what was wrong and I could barely choke it out between sobs. He calmly tried to listen and decipher what I was saying. I explained about the doctors call... the bad news... and perhaps the worst case scenario. He did what a good husband does: he asked if I was okay, how he could help, and exclaimed how much he loved me.

We eventually made it to the bank to meet Tyler (I had every intention at the beginning of the day to take the boys trick or treating over by Tyler's bank, but after getting the news I couldn't bare the thought of pasting a weak smile to my face). When we walked into the bank all the women in there squealed with delight at my boys' cute costumes. They fussed and complimented and I think I managed a pleasant upturn of my mouth. Tyler told me when I got closer to him that we could go home. It was only 4:00 and I asked him if that was okay. Jill, his boss, had told him to take off early and to also take as many days as he needed before he came back to work. I immediately understood that they had talked about our situation. I was entirely grateful for her generosity and concern. She gave me the kindest smile and whispered "I hope everything works out." I could feel the sincerity in her voice and immediately had to blink back more tears. Later Tyler explained that she and her husband had been through similar circumstances. I can't express how thankful I was for her understanding and support of our tough situation.

The next few hours were sort of a blur. I know that I could barely talk, each time I did sobs worked their way up my throat and tears escaped my eyes until they burned. My thoughts frequently drifted towards our little Pula. **Would we ever see our baby live? Would I have a miscarriage? How could we take care of a child with such extensive needs? Would we even be able to celebrate our child's birthday before we planned a funeral? **

Each new thought tore through my heart and a new wave of pain shot through my body. I felt as if I couldn't bear any more. I tried to push everything out... to think of nothing, but it was useless.

I couldn't ignore the simple facts: the baby in my stomach would live or die. I had no control. Either way the child would be forever engraved on my heart and soul. 

Tyler did a better job of keeping it together than I did when we got home. I went to our bedroom.... made a phone call to my parents, cried a lot more, and eventually pulled myself together to spend a couple of hours with our boys before bedtime. I did some researching that night (not too much, as I had been warned by my mom that the pictures were pretty awful). I learned the simple facts about Trisomy 18-- something of which I knew nothing about until 2 days ago. 

In short there are several kinds of Trisomies, one of the most common is Trisomy 21 (Down Syndrome). Trisomy 18 (Edward's Syndrome) is when three chromosomes make up the 18th chromosome instead of the regular two (one from each parent). Down syndrome is similar in that there are three chromosomes on the 21st chromosome instead of two. The difference between to the trisomies is that 18 is much more physically severe. Babies diagnosed with Edwards syndrome are usually still born. Their bodies aren't able to develop properly. Those who do live suffer great physical handicaps... babies aren't born with basic brain function to tell them to suck, swallow, breathe. Once born (the >10% ) commonly don't survive past the first week. It is rare that they live to their first birthday. Babies also have distinct physical handicaps clenched fists, rocker bottom feet, strawberry shaped heads... they have many problems with their hearts, which have small holes throughout them-- usually resulting in many surgeries, kidney failure etc.

There are many other facts about Trisomy 18... most of them very disturbing for a parent to be, but I felt empowered by the knowledge of what we were up against. 

The small blessing in disguise: I learned that Trisomy 18 isn't DIAGNOSED by your abnormalities in your blood work alone, you are just shown that your are at higher RISK. After a phone conversation with my nurse I learned that all my other lab work showed my risk for the quad screen were only 1:10,000. The reason why they narrowed my risk specifically to Trisomy 18 was because of a part of the screening for that was 1:100. Much higher than my other results. While 1:100 is much higher than 1:10,000 it's better than 1:10. A risk of 1:100 is also the cut off between what's considered "normal" and "abnormal" in these screens, so I'm at the top end, which is good. The other part about these screenings that is reassuring is that they aren't an exact science. It's like the weatherman who looks at the Doppler 8000 (or whatever weather man machine they use) and predicts the weather based on what information is in front of it. Then he gives a "prediction" of 20% chance of rain and so on. If I'm losing you, what I mean to say is that there is room for error. While I can take only a little comfort in that chance for error I have been taking our situation seriously and preparing myself the best that I can.

While talking to Tyler I remembered something that had crossed my mind early in Monday morning before my doctor called.  For no particular reason I had this 'thought' pop into my head.

I was cleaning the house and suddenly thought about a lesson from a few Sunday's back from a particular sister in our ward. She explained during her lesson that her husband and her had struggled with infertility for years. They wanted children so badly. At the time she was trying to find a job teaching, as that's what she got her degree in, but could only find work with special needs classes. A short while later they found she was expecting a baby. Little did she know at the time that her son would have Down Syndrome. She explained that it was easy to see God's plan for her life later. He was preparing her for a special one of his spirits with very special needs. 

What I was able to take away from her experience and what thought occurred to me early that Halloween morning was that 'God prepares us for the things we are going to go through'. The preparation can be subtle and often hard to see during the process, but looking back it is always there. Although we may not be able to see God's plan for us (or even our unborn children) we can have faith in His guidance through the journey. 

Monday night I spent plenty of time speaking with God. I told Him how scared I was, how grateful I was that He's allowed me raise some of His children here on Earth, how grateful I am for two healthy strong willed boys, how thankful I am to have a loving priesthood holding husband by my side, how fortunate I feel to have family-friends-and members of the church rally around us at this difficult time. Ultimately I asked God to send me a little comfort... so that I could stand tall as we waited for the next step. I told Him I knew He couldn't tell or show me everything, but that I could settle for a little physical rest. By the end of my prayer  my pillow was thoroughly soaked from tears, but I felt the presence and love of my Heavenly Father.

It was enough to get me through one more night. 

Tuesday Tyler stayed home with us. What another blessing that was. I wasn't able to sleep the whole night (it's pretty rare that I sleep an 8 hour stretch- especially when I'm peeing frequently due to pregnancy), but I did sleep for 4 straight hours. I felt blessed. The Lord gave me just what I needed--- rest--- physical and emotional rest. It was enough. I was happy for that. Tuesday (Day 2) proved to be a little better. I was like someone exhibiting the symptoms of trauma on Monday.... first shock, then panic, then emotional and physical pain, then numbness. Tuesday I felt something different I felt the first sliver of hope. It was small and perhaps to someone so wrapped up in all the other dealings might have gone unnoticed, but it was there.

Hope.

I have experienced many phone calls, text messages, emails, and personal conversations expressing concern and love for our family. God has comforted me through all of you. Your kind words, your prayers, your love... all have given me a little more strength. Strength that wasn't there on Monday.

Day 2 also brought us a little more 'good' news. I was finally able to set an appointment with the Genetic Counselor and we willn get an ultrasound done. While this ultrasound will be different than the one we were so anxious to have next week it will give us some good indicators...We will have a better idea of whether we should be celebrating or preparing for difficult future needs. Thursday is our big day... we go in.

We listen.

We wait.

I don't want this to be all doom and gloom because in the time I have spent personally pondering the seriousness of our situation I have come to realize that God has a sense of humor. In some not so subtle ways He has wiped away all my previous concerns. I was worried about a horrible third Cesarean-- no problem now, now I would give anything to carry FULL TERM. I was worried about this being my last pregnancy and coming to terms with 'not being able to have MORE children' -- no problem now, I'm just grateful I already HAVE children. I was worried about having another boy (a selfish concern, I know, but it is hard to imagine not having a little daughter of my own to do those special girly things with)-- problem solved... I would give anything to just hold a baby in my arms. Boy. Girl. It doesn't matter. I was worried about gaining lots of weight and looking 'fat'-- heck now I don't even care if I look like the goodyear  blimp, just as long as I get to see my sweet Pula.

In one day God kinda chuckled and said, "You want to worry about stuff? Here. Let me show you things to REALLY worry about."

 And it's true.

 I get it now.

I see the errors of my ways and have asked for forgiveness.

I have come to be extremely grateful for everything I HAVE and not too worrisome about all the things I WANTED. God is giving me another chance to increase my faith in Him. I guess I'm stubborn and need to be taught the importance of relying on HIM. Okay. Point taken. I'll do better. In fact, that's exactly what I'm doing right now... putting ALL my faith and trust in Him that His plan is perfect (which of course I know it is), but that it might not be an easy one.

I am blessed.

 I am loved.

I am grateful.

I believe.

I hope.

I live.

Although it is difficult to be 'entirely happy and carefree' at this moment, I am at peace. We will keep you posted on our what happens with our doctor appointment tomorrow.

(And I promise to post some cute pictures of the boys trick or treating--- before it got all crazy--- next time.)

Thanks for the love, prayers, and well wishes.

They are felt.

Another vow broken

Well, it's happened again.

I have broken another Mom Vow.

Like I said, before I became a mother, I would never:

* give my child a binky off the dirty floor/ eat anything off the floor

* let my child have a runny snotty nose

* go out of the house unless they were properly dressed, in a coordinating outfit of course

* drink pop, which in all fairness this one was mostly broken via grandparents/ aunts/ uncles

* eat food from my child's plate or anything that had been in their mouth

* have a binky past the age of 1, which for the most part we stick to this one--there have been a few emergencies and exceptions though

* cry loudly in public, specifically church

* buy my child something to shut them up while I'm in public

And the list went on................

Since becoming a REAL mom, I have realized that some of my Mom Vows were somewhat unrealistic and I have been willing to accept that, however, there have still been times where I simply have to draw the Mom Vow Line. Wednesday morning, after Dr. Jekyll/ Mr. Hyde visited the night before was another low moment in my history as a mother.

I will openly admit to breaking yet another one of my Mom Vows ......................................(as I hang my head in shame)

I was trying to get ready in the morning and Quincy was constantly in my hair. I couldn't get anything done. After much frustration I finally took him by the hand, walked with him to the family room, found the remote, and turned on the TV.

***Gasp***

Even in the moment I still couldn't believe I was committing such an ugly Mom Vow crime against myself, but I will admit it felt good. In fact, I was able to get ready in 15 minutes verses having to pry Quincy off my legs every 5 minutes.

Now, I don't hold anything against those mother's who openly admit to letting their children watch hours of TV a day. That is purely their choice as a parent. The main problem I have with kids watching TV, is WHAT they are watching.

Whatever happened to all those wholesome good cartoons like:

Those were classic children's cartoons. Since then, kid TV seems to have grown up WAAAaaaYYY too much. The girls are flirting boys, there is far more violence, the pure fact that the cartoons reflect a certain image in which boys and girls are supposed to imitate simply disgusts me. This is why I Mom Vowed not to plop my kid in front of the TV. I will also add, that I give props to PBS for still showing wholesome and educational programs. Some of the shows on these channels I will permit Quincy to watch. But at the young tender age of 2 years old is it necessary to sit him in front of the tube for an hour? I think not. I would much rather him use his imagination, read, construct, or be active.

But we're not all perfect at permitting our kids to do these things all the time, which is why for 15 minutes I willingly admit to getting some relief from those rotten, non-educational, no-good cartoon shows.

A celebration of Life

My last semester at school I had to take an English class.... I was required to write a couple of large papers, one of them being a narrative essay. I know this is lengthy and you don't have to read it, but I am choosing to post it because this month is when it happened 4 years ago. Although it was a difficult period in my life, and because of it I will be forever changed, I am a stronger person now than I was before.

I believe one of the biggest challenges when faced with trials, tribulation, heart ache, and sadness is to ask yourself "What can I learn from this?" instead of questioning "Why me?".

The Day my Life Began

“Thanks Bree,” I hollered as I dashed hastily down the spiral of stairs. I could scarcely contain my happiness as I looked at Bree’s car which sat parked in front of me. Reluctantly I let out an almost silent giggle. Tyler and I had been dating for 6 months now and I was ecstatic to finally be able to see him again. It took weeks of careful preparation and the moment had finally arrived. Fortunately I was lucky to know a friend like Bree who would lend me her car for the weekend. Although it was nothing more than a small forest green geo metro I could have cared less. I released the driver’s side door and heaved my suitcase into the back seat. After doing a quick run through on my mental checklist I was sure I hadn’t forgot anything and settled myself behind the wheel. I took one last look at Rexburg and headed for the highway

The sky was the perfect shade of blue and the sun shone brightly through the dirty car windshield. I reached over for my sunglasses and turned up the sound system which was playing one of Bree’s mixed CD’s that I hadn’t heard before. As I listened to the music I found myself becoming more anxious to get there. I decided to call my mom because I knew that chatting with her would help pass the time on my trip to Boise. We talked for some time, but regrettably the phone conversation seemed to only last long enough to get me through Pocatello. I was in disbelief when I looked at the clock which only read 10:30AM. Remarkably, I was making good time. I gazed out the window to the thirsty countryside which seemed to echo a longing for better days of moisture. It always amazed me when people proudly proclaimed that Eastern Idaho was ‘God’s country’. How could anyone declare a landscape so lifeless to be awe-inspiring, breathtaking, or even beautiful? As I reflected on this predicament, my thoughts were turned else-where and I decided to call Tyler.

“Hello?” he answered. I smiled because I had by now memorized the sound of his voice. Usually I could detect a smile over the phone while we talked, but today his voice sounded a bit raspy and rather exhausted. This didn’t concern me much since I knew he was working outside mowing lawns for his boss Evan. “Hey babe,” I said in a sweet flirtatious voice, “How’s work going?” I knew I was just making small talk, but it didn’t matter because I had no reason to rush through a phone conversation. “Pretty good,” he said. Now I could hear that playful smile. “It’s been really hot today. I’ve been cruising through each job so I could be done by the time you get here. Where are you?” I found myself engrossed by his words and almost didn’t hear the question. “Oh, I’m just outside Twin Falls. I’ll probably be to Boise in about two hours or so.” “Gee!” he exclaimed, “you’ll be to my house even before I get there. You must be speeding. You better watch out, I wouldn’t want you to get a ticket or anything.” I laughed. “I’m not speeding, just making good time that’s all. Besides the last thing I want to do is a get a ticket in someone else’s car.” “Good,” he replied “I’ve got to go back to work, but be sure and call when you’re close.” “I will,” I assured him and with that I closed my phone.

Refreshed from my phone conversation with Tyler I redirected my attention to the entirely boring scene of the familiar flat interstate. While I sang to the radio and consciously checked the speedometer to make sure I wasn’t speeding I noticed a semi truck that for some reason had swerved in front of me. I tried to peer into the right-hand lane to see why he felt so inclined to cut me off, but there was nothing in my view which gave him reason for this irrational lane change. Impatiently I attempted to remain calm as I waited for him to signal that he was going to move back to his right-hand lane, but no such signal appeared. “This is ridiculous,” I thought to myself, “He’s going ten miles under the suggested speed limit and I don’t want to waste any more time!” A bit agitated, I turned on my right blinker and moved over into the slow lane. I was half way past him when I noticed that he suddenly had on his right blinker as if to move into my lane. I rapidly began to panic as questions raced through my mind. “Does he see me? Is he planning on waiting until I pass him? Do I have enough time to slow down so he can get over or should I speed up? What is he doing?”

Suddenly, it was as if I were watching a horror film in slow motion. The weight of the enormous semi truck seemed to crush my car like a teenage boy crushing a can on his forehead. It smashed against my side slicing through the body of the car like butter and then propelled it 180 degrees around where it shattered the right passenger’s side. My neck flung frontward because of the blow and my eyes were squeezed tightly shut as the thought of death wandered through my head. When I thought it was over I managed to pry my eyelids apart only to witness the car spinning violently around like a Frisbee thrown at full-speed. I could hear the tires from the car screeching on the pavement and prayed silently that no one was behind me…

After what seemed an eternity the car came to a halt on the right side of the interstate. Smoke poured out from under the hood of the car and I sat in pure shock with my hands still firmly gripped to the steering wheel. My knuckles were white and realized that I had been holding my breath. I let out a trembling exhale and tried to comprehend what had just happened. I somehow managed to pull my hands away from the steering wheel to open the door. I stepped out to survey the damage to Bree’s car and instantly knew it was beyond help. I reached for my cell phone and slowly dialed Tyler’s number. He answered casually saying, “So, I guess this means you got a ticket?” I tried to hold back tears. Searching for the words I finally whimpered, “Tyler, I wish that was it. A semi truck just hit me and totaled the car.” All of a sudden I began to sob uncontrollably as the events took impact on me. “Are you okay?” he asked. Between the tears and short inhales I somehow answered, “I think so. I have to call my parents though and let them know what happened. I’ll be sure and call you back. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet…. I love you.” “I love you too,” he responded.

I glanced up trying to blink the tears from my eyes and saw a man walking towards me. He was wearing a red T-shirt and some khaki shorts. His hair was grey and when he came closer he asked, “Are you alright?” I nodded yes a couple of times, but clearly I wasn’t. He pulled out his cell phone to call the police and after doing so introduced himself as George. He was a truck driver coming the opposite direction, Eastbound on Interstate 84, and had witnessed my accident. George was kind and his voice was tender. I was still in shock and crying hysterically. George tried to calm me down by asking my name and where I was from. When I informed him that I was a student at BYU-I, he told me that he had a daughter my age. He looked at me with sympathy and quietly asked in a gentle voice, like that of a father, “I know you’re quite upset. I would give you a hug, but I don’t want you to be any more scared than you already are.” I shook my head and replied, “No, you don’t scare me. I could really use a hug.” Then George reached his arm around my shoulder and gave me a quick squeeze. I knew his intentions were pure and the hug provided great relief. It was then that I was able to control my breathing and slow down my tears. By now the police had arrived.

I gave my statement to police officer, who was clearly certain I wasn’t at fault. He arranged for me to ride with a close friend of his to Boise, seeing as how Bree’s car wasn’t going anywhere soon. As I climbed up into the silver Ford 350 truck with two complete strangers I pondered on what had happened. I sat quietly in the truck as thoughts floated through my head… “Why had I survived that accident? Why did it happen to me, I hadn’t done anything wrong? What will I do now? I don’t deserve this. ” I was reminded of one of my Book of Mormon professors who challenged us to read each chapter with personal application in mind.

Suddenly I remembered a scripture in Mosiah 23: 21 which read: “Nevertheless the Lord seeth fit to chasten his people; yea, he trieth their patience and their faith.” I recalled my professor explaining that bad things happen to good people. The reason the Lord lets ‘bad’ things happen to the righteous is because he is providing them with opportunities for personal growth. “Was this the Lord’s way of making me stronger?” I highly doubted it, but a nagging feeling reprimanded me to consider otherwise. Perhaps I was looking at all this in the wrong way. My Heavenly Father didn’t let me die; I wasn’t seriously injured or even paralyzed. This was an opportunity for growth. Somehow I was going to learn something new, accomplish something incredible or become someone I couldn’t have been without this experience. The only problem was I didn’t know how. I lifted my eyes upward and realized that the truck was slowly coming to a stop.

When we pulled into the parking lot where we were meeting Tyler, I felt a sense of relief. My body was aching, my eyes were puffy and swollen, and my hair was tussled, but it didn’t matter. Tyler’s arms were outstretched as I clang my shaking body close to his. He stroked my head and held me tight, as if to keep me from ever leaving him. My lower lip quivered and I tried to swallow the large lump in my throat. After a silent moment had passed I looked into his striking blue eyes and understood how incredibly blessed I was. I was alive and loved.