"Hope Ya Know, I'm Having a Hard Time"...

...Sometimes as I pray to my Father in Heaven, some version of this phrase is blurted from my mouth. Not daily, but on the particularly rough days. He doesn't need me to tell Him, though. I believe that He knows my heart. He knows I'm struggling long before I tell Him myself. 

I also believe that these "hard times" are essential to my growth. For some reason I have to learn some of my hardest life lessons through loss. 

People tell me all the time that they couldn't go through what I've gone through. I promise you that isn't true. If you asked me three years ago, I would have told you, "I could never go through that" too. I am not special. My trial is not easier or harder than yours. I am not more faithful. I am not better or stronger. I'm just different. God asks different things from each of us because we learn and grow in different ways. We could not learn what we needed to learn if we all had the same experiences. 

I'm a total sucker for these "Mormon Messages" videos. They make me cry. Especially when the speaker has a message that's particularly relevant to my situation. But THIS video (it's short, like 3 1/2 minutes) not only made me cry, but motivated me to be a better disciple of my Savior Jesus Christ. 

I have resolved to trust my Savior and to look to Him to help me through my pain, through my sorrow, and through my grief. He understands me. I'm so grateful for Him and the sacrifice He made so that I can have that companionship here on Earth and throughout the eternities!

How Many Pregnancy Tests Does it Take?

...before you find out you are absolutely, positively, FOR SURE not pregnant? I'd say about 23. At least that's how many I'VE taken in the last 3 months. Some would say that's pathetic (I actually kind of think it is myself), but it was a little bit warranted. Next time I'm pregnant I'll have to give myself heparin injections (which I have sitting on a shelf waiting for that day.) So...when my monthly didn't come, I just HAD TO KNOW if I was pregnant so I could start my shots. Of course that little voice inside of me kept saying, 

*{{{God will bless you with a baby. He won't make you wait two years like He did last time"}}}*

Each week that I was still without my hormonally-charged, piece of crap, monthly companion I would take another test...or two. Evan patiently indulged my $5 splurge every time we went to the store. (It's interesting to point out that Wal-mart here in K-town is ALWAYS out of $0.88 pregnancy tests.)

So, I was 2 months and 3 weeks without my friend, spent a buttload of money on pregnancy tests (all were negative), and now here I sit, blogging about being on my period. You're probably thinking I'd be pissed, right? Well, surprisingly I'm not. I'm ThRiLLeD!! Like, really REALLY happy! Why, you might ask? 

Because this week has sucked. Mighty, mighty suckage with a big ol' sucky cherry on top. And a sucky bow. 
                                         

Lately I'm usually about here:

But this week I've felt about here:

It has made me think I was going crazy. 

I'd cry and cry (to the point where I have to shut my office door and just let it all out):

  Then 4 minutes later I'd be so AngRy!!

 I told Evan that I am done. I don't want to be around people, I don't want to go to church, I don't want to believe in a God that lets me hurt this bad and feel so icky. Evan just took it all in stride. He let me cry, then let me yell, and he got mad right alongside me and then he would hold me. (I'm really lucky to have him). Suddenly I'd freak out that I was having crazy mood swings and thought that I must be totally imbalanced.

Until today. All is right with the world today because even though I'm not pregnant, I also am not wondering if I'm pregnant. Even though I'm bleeding, I'm grateful that my body does what it's supposed to. And now I know I'm not a fruitcake. At least not all the time. 

An Answer to an Unsaid Prayer

In my church, we have a huge meeting twice a year called General Conference. We believe in a living prophet that has all the power and authority to speak for God on earth today. This prophet and his apostles are considered special witnesses of Jesus Christ and teach us the things that our Father in Heaven needs us to hear. This is an opportunity to make the necessary changes to adapt to a growing world and to accommodate for the things that God needs his children to focus on in order to prepare to meet him. I look forward to this conference as a time to realign my attitudes and goals with a focus on my Savior and being a better disciple of Him.

This fall as conference approached, I read that one way to prepare for conference is to write down specific questions that I would like to have answered during conference. I have done this before and have been blessed with answers that have directed my life and my decisions.  This time, I couldn't think of a question. But as I pondered, I knew in my heart that I just needed to know that Heavenly Father was mindful of me and the trial I was struggling with. The past month, I've been angry. I have felt cheated and abused; like I've been picked on and forced to endure more heartache than was fair. 

I was scrubbing my bathroom floor while I listened to conference when this talk (above) came on. Elder Bowen described his experience with the death of his son and the pain he and his family endured. EVERY WORD seemed to describe my sorrow in perfect detail. I sat on the floor with my sudsy brush in my gloved hand and sobbed. 

I hadn't written down a question, and I hadn't prayed before conference. My loving Heavenly Father just told me, through Elder Bowen's beautifully expressed words, that He loved me and knows how much I'm hurting. I felt relieved and uplifted. Suddenly the texts, calls, and Facebook messages started pouring in, "I thought of you and your angels during that last talk."

Sometimes I feel so alone, left to grieve my sons' absence with Evan as the rest of the world moves on and we can't. Then I get a nudge like this and am reminded that I'm never alone and have loving, kind family and friends that think of us and pray for us.

I'm grateful that God used Elder Bowen to tell the world that sometimes babies die, and it's heartbreaking. It's devastating. It is not fair. But that there is hope in this bleak existence without them that we are going to see them again. CHILDREN under the age of accountability (8 years old) DO NOT NEED BAPTISM! Jesus Christ loves the children. He implores us to be like them: meek, mild, submissive. How can they be damned?! I'm grateful that I have a knowledge of the fullness of the gospel and that I KNOW my sons are waiting for me. Thank you to all who wrote us, or even thought of us and our angels today. We appreciate it beyond words!

Much Love, 

Whit

I can't believe how much He loves me

In honor on my 20,000th pageview, I thought I'd celebrate something I've learned the hard way over the past few years. However, I'm not as eloquent as THIS guy, so I'm just going to use his words. 

“Think of the purest, most all-consuming love you can
imagine. Now multiply that love by an infinite 

amount—that is the measure of God’s love for you. 

God does not look on the outward appearance. 

 I believe that He doesn’t care one bit if we live in

a castle or a cottage,

if we are handsome or homely,

if we are famous or forgotten.

Though we are incomplete, God loves us completely.

Though we are imperfect, He loves us perfectly.

Though we may feel lost and

without a compass, God’s love encompasses us 

completely.

He loves us because He is filled with an infinite

measure of holy, pure, and indescribable love.

We are important to God 

not because of our resumé but because

we are His children. 

He loves every one of us, even those who are flawed, rejected, awkward, sorrowful, or broken.God’s love is so great that He loves

even the proud, the selfish, the arrogant, and the wicked"

It's good to know I've got someone in my corner through

this life. The kind of someone who is always there, always

listening, always watching, and waiting for me to call on

him. And I know He'll answer me when I do. 

Much Love,

Whit

September 14th

Given my history with pregnancy loss, when I found out I was pregnant with Kayden, I knew I wouldn't make it to my due date. The plan was to induce at 37 weeks just to make sure he got here safely. (I knew I would NOT have the emotional or mental capacity to get to 38 weeks again...I would have been a total wreck). 

In May, at 23 weeks, I started having contractions and bleeding. I was sufficiently freaked out. I didn't know what to do. I would have been happy going on bedrest, but I would have had to drop out of school. I wasn't dilating, but my doc put me on -nifedipine- to help stop the contractions and it worked, so I resumed my daily activities. The one time I missed a dose, I had major cramping, so I had to be careful to take my pills on time every day. Needless to say, thanks to this fun experience with preterm labor, it further solidified my idea that this baby would not make it to his due date. For some reason (probably for simplicity's sake) when people asked when I was due, I still said, "September 14th". So, for 6 months, 9/14 was on my mind, coming out of my mouth, and I associated this date with my little Kayden. 

Of course, we all know the story from there; Kayden would live inside me until June 14th and no further. He was born sleeping on the 16th, and was laid to rest in the ground on the 23rd. 

So why does today suck so bad? It's just a day on the calendar. It's on all my paperwork from my pregnancy: "EDD (Estimated Due Date) or EDC (Estimated Date of Confinement) : 9/14/12. Maybe it's the idea that this date should have been a happy one and it's not; that I should be a mother and I'm not; that I should have finally gotten to hear my baby cry after years of yearning for and wishing for that sound. 

I have the right to be sad today, I know that. I didn't think I would need to-even yesterday when I casually mentioned to some ladies that I was supposed to be due today, I didn't feel anything. But I woke up with a heavy heart this morning and it was unexpected and frustrating. So for today I will allow myself to feel sad and think of my sweet Kayden. 

And the results are in...MTHFR!!!

We've been hoping that something would come up that would shout at us "I'M THE PROBLEM!! FIX ME AND YOU'LL BE FINE!". Too bad that's not the case. 

If you've ever been pregnant (and even if you haven't) you probably know that folic acid (or folate) is important to the development of a healthy baby in utero. Among other things, a deficiency of this important vitamin can cause neural tube defects such as spina bifida. Luckily, my babies did not have this problem. They were both perfectly formed without any physical or chemical indication of neural tube defects. :)

However. My most recent blood studies showed a mutation having to do with the MTHFR gene, which stands for methylenetetrahydrofolate reductase (say that 5 times fast).  In words that are easy for me to understand, my body has a hard time processing folic acid. Doctors aren't entirely sure of the effects this can have during pregnancy. Some research has showed correlations between MTHFR and thrombolytic (clotting) events during pregnancy, but that wasn't very conclusive, and  it's not been studied enough to receive a consensual approval by the medical society. 

Bottom line: a normal multivitamin contains 400 micrograms of folic acid to receive 100% of the recommended dose. During pregnancy, doctors recommend their patients take 800 micrograms. With MTHFR, my doctor is recommending that I take 5000 mcg every day. Basically, they assume that any enzymes that are actually working to break down folic acid should be bombarded so that I have a higher chance of getting the folic acid that I need. Sounds a little sketchy, especially when one doctor says to take extra folic acid and another doctor says there's no point. I feel like I can't be a smart consumer and research what to do about it, because it's not out there, and what IS available, isn't reliable. Hopefully, if I keep searching, I'll eventually find some more answers. For now, I will do as I'm told and hope it's enough that we don't lose any more babies.

P.S. If you're related to me by blood, I'm supposed to tell you to get tested. It's also said to be linked to cancer, and cardiovascular disease. Take it or leave it. But hey, if you have it, we could be MTHFR-ing buddies!

Whit

The Unfinished Race

    In 7th grade, the Jr. High school counselor asked me what I wanted to do for a career. "Be a mom" was my simple reply. She seemed surprised at my response and didn't really know where to go from there. I remember she wrote, "Domestic Engineer" on my paper and sent me on my way. My mom had been a stay-at-home mom my whole life up until that point. It's not that society looks down on such a career but I guess as a life-long ambition, my counselor was less than impressed. Through the rest of my high school career, I thought I'd definitely go into a career in music. Just like most girls, I had my life mapped out-where I'd go to college, when I'd meet the perfect guy, when I'd graduate and have the perfect job and of course, kids would come into the picture at the perfect time. Don't get me wrong...I love my life. But on days like to day, I can't help but feel let-down.

    Imagine running a race. One of the really long races, like a marathon. Muscles aching, heart pounding, you've trained so long. You've done every excercise, you've practiced for months, you toned your muscles and you feel prepared. Suddenly, 5 miles from the finish line, you stumble. You're aching, and maybe you even gashed your leg open. Every part of your body and soul screams at you to give up. But you look up... everyone on the sidelines is cheering for you...you're family, your friends. Though you want to stop, you feel a gentle push telling you to finish. The next 4 miles are excruciating. Everything hurts worse, and at times, you don't feel you have it in you. People tell you you're strong and you find renewed strength, only to keep stumbling on your way. Finally, with 1 mile left, you see the 25 mile mark and know that you are SO close! You press on with all your might. Everyone in the crowd is cheering for you, telling you how great you're doing and that they are so excited for you. The race is easy again and you know it's going go be okay...

...suddenly, with 20 yards left, and like a rug pulled from underneath you, you fall. A hard fall this time-one that makes finishing the race impossible. That dream you had, that goal you had set flies out the window. The medics are on the scene now, telling you that it's going to be okay. They're gonna get you to the hospital and you'll be fixed up. Is it comforting? You're going to be okay, but you will never finish that race. You'll never take home a medal. People will say, "how did the race go?" and you'll have to hang your head and say, "I didn't finish." When your friends get together and talk about their medals and crossing the finish line, you'll be an outcast. Even though you ran the race and did everything right, you didn't finish. Do you feel sad? mad? empty?

Chances are probably not. Afterall, it's just a stupid race, right? It seems silly to compare my trials to a marathon, but on days like today, I just want someone to understand. I want someone to know how bad my heart is hurting. 

I got through 38 weeks (8 1/2 months) of my pregnancy with Scotlin and suddenly he was gone. My chances of being his mother were ripped from my grasp. I held him for a few hours and then handed his body to a nurse knowing that the next time I would see him would be in a casket. Life was SO DIFFICULT! I ached, I cried, I screamed. I told my story and people surrounded me. They cheered me one and I was lifted up. I got up again and I learned and I grew. I knew I could handle this. So many people prayed for us, and my relationship with my Savior strenghtened. I felt so relieved when Kayden came to us. I knew I'd been blessed and I was looking forward, with renewed hope, at my chance to be a mother. I was so close to that finish line when I fell. I cried again. I screamed at the doctors. I yelled at God, "I cannot do this again!!". Giving Kayden to the nurse was even harder, because I knew I wouldn't see him again. He would be placed in a casket, flown to Utah, taken to Logan where I would see his casket, trying desperately to remember how it felt to hold him.

  I'm not alone, either; so many people experience this loss. Maybe not in the form of infant or pregnancy loss. Maybe it's infertility or sterility. When that's not you, though, it's easy to forget that this type of pain exists. It seems that when 2 or more women get together, labor pains or the hardships of child-rearing are brought up. That's fine. But before you complain, think about the people around you (and the statistics say it's at least 25%) that have experienced a loss and would give anything to be in your shoes: to rock their crying baby to sleep in the middle of the night, or gain 75 pounds and feel sick and miserable during pregnancy. Anything that meant their baby was alive. It makes me want to scream, "WHY ARE YOU COMPLAINING TO ME?!?", "Don't you know I would give ANYTHING to have those things you're so recklessly complaining about?"

And then the guilt sets in, kind of like it is now as I write this post. (wondering if I should even post this, or if I'll regret it later when I get hate mail). I know that it's human to complain. I know that it's easy to feel down when things are overwhelming you. But when that instinct hits, bonk it in the head with a bat and realize how lucky you are to soothe your screaming baby, or clean the mud out of his teeth that he ate when you weren't looking, because you know he's alive and well and you can watch him grow and learn HERE, without hoping that your faith is enough to get you through this life until you get to see him again. 

OK, I'm done...seriously, let the bad vibes roll if it makes you feel better. Just post 'em in the comments...I can handle it. And most of all, if you made it this far, thanks for letting me vent.