Easter 2017

Easter was so good. It was probably one of my favorites so far. Since I'm almost two weeks late in posting it, it will be mostly a picture-story. :)

I actually broke out my sewing machine (yay! I love that thing - so therapeutic when I make the time) and sewed up this little tie. My mom gave me the pattern around Christmas, we cut the material out, and I finally sewed the pieces together...four months later...:) It turned out cute and was fun to make.

The Easter Bunny left Aidan (and Kimball too, but he was still asleep) a scavenger hunt. He had to follow each clue to the next one until he found the Easter baskets! The Easter Bunny is pretty wily, but Aidan won out in the end; they were in the bath tub.

 I mostly videoed him, so Jayze snagged this gem after the hunt was over. Aidan was so excited.

When Kimball woke up, all he wanted to do was eat the grass. We took it away from him before he choked on it.

Even though I didn't get a picture of Aidan and Kimball together, believe me they looked super cute in their new Sunday clothes. When I wanted a picture of our family after church, Kimball had fallen asleep on the way home and Aidan just wanted to play in the grass. Maybe next year we'll actually get a family picture.

We waited forever for Kimball and Aidan to wake up from their naps, but since we were going over to our friends for Easter dinner and were a little crunched for time, Jayze and I decided to start coloring the hard-boiled eggs without them. We saved two or three, and Jayze helped Aidan color them while I got our side and dessert dishes ready to go.

 Jayze was (mostly) a sport about taking pictures...

We had an Easter egg hunt at our friend's house. It was so fun seeing Aidan's little brain working out the process of finding the eggs.

I'm so grateful for Easter! I'm grateful for the celebration of Jesus Christ's resurrection. He lives! I know He does. And because of Him I can be with my family forever and see Alma again. Because of Him I can find true joy. He really is the Prince of Peace.

Happy Under Every Circumstance

I haven't been able to get this quote out of my thoughts lately:

"Difficult as circumstances may be, they do not relieve us of accountability for our actions or our inactions. Nephi was right. God gives no commandments to the children of men save He prepares a way for them to obey. However difficult our circumstances, we can repent." 

(Henry B. Eyring)

 I came across it in my email almost a month ago, and I'm still thinking about it. 

I just really love how we're able to repent, change, and become better because of our Savior Jesus Christ. He is the one who made it possible for all to return unto Him if we choose.

I know I need repentance every single day, and I'm so grateful for it. 

For the chance to become more like my Savior. 

It reminded me of this quote, too:

"Saints can be happy under every circumstance. We can feel joy even while having a bad day, a bad week, or even a bad year!

My dear brothers and sisters, the joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives."

(Russell M. Nelson)

Also, conference was amazing. Many of my prayers were answered, particularly one that had been weighing heavily on my mind. I'm excited to go back and reread and re-listen to the words of our modern-day prophets and apostles. 

What my boys and I did while Jayze was at the Priesthood session. :) 

A Good Weekend

This weekend was a good one. 

On Friday, Jayze and I celebrated St. Patrick's Day by eating green eggs and ham for dinner. We also finally watched Moana that night (thanks to our friends who let us borrow it). We loved it, of course. 

Had to throw in some orange in honor of leprechauns, too. :)

We went to the zoo on Saturday (When we told Aidan where we were going, he jumped around in excitement, yelling, "Zoooo! Zooo! Zoooo!). 

On Sunday we attended church. I got Kimball to fall asleep in the car seat during Sunday School, and Aidan could have stayed in nursery all day long. 

But what was most significant about this weekend was the love I felt from my Heavenly Father. There are a few things I've been struggling with for the past couple of weeks, and some days have been better than others. The few days previous to this weekend was another few days that tested my strength and my outlook, and this weekend I prayed so hard to feel the Spirit. And guess what? Heavenly Father answered my heartfelt pleas and my heartfelt efforts to feel and be close to Him. 

I know that my Heavenly Father is real. I know that Jesus Christ atoned for not only my sins, but also for my pains and my sorrows. I know that Jesus Christ still lives. Both Him and Heavenly Father love me so much and know me by name. 

Today as I've been pondering the answers I received this weekend, my favorite childhood Primary song came to mind:

Whenever I hear the song of a bird

Or look at the blue, blue sky,

Whenever I feel the rain on my face

Or the wind as it rushes by,

Whenever I touch a velvet rose

Or walk by our lilac tree,

I'm glad that I live in this beautiful world

Heav'nly Father created for me.

He gave me my eyes that I might see

The color of butterfly wings.

He gave me my ears that I might hear

The magical sound of things.

He gave me my life, my mind, my heart:

I thank him rev'rently

For all his creations, of which I'm a part.

Yes, I know Heav'nly Father loves me.

(song credit here)

I am grateful for the gospel of Jesus Christ. I am grateful to be a member of His church. I am grateful I know I am a daughter of God. And I am grateful to know who I am, where I am going, and why I am here.

PS: Happy First Day of Spring! 

From the zoo on Saturday.

Where Was God?

I remember sitting down in the chapel. I hadn't really wanted to come. I felt like I didn't fit in with anyone anymore. I felt awkward being around women my age again. Probably because many of them knew what happened, but there were also many who didn't know what happened. During those early days I was ALWAYS left wondering who knew about Alma and who didn't. Who knew I had lost my baby?

It was a struggle because most of the time I talked to people I knew who knew, I would get the sympathetic looks but no mention of Alma. The subject of him would be taboo - the elephant in the room per-say. But then when I talked to others who didn't know, I'd wait in dreaded anticipation for the question, "Do you have any kids?" It hurt every single time to get asked that, no matter how innocent it was. Being in a group of pregnant women was difficult, too, because my birth story didn't have a happy ending. It became emotionally exhausting talking to people, so that night in the chapel, I didn't really want to talk at all.

During the weeks that followed Alma's passing, there were times when I felt so much love around me. I felt it through the letters and packages and quotes we received daily in the mail. I felt it through priesthood blessings given to me by wonderful men at work, by my bishop, by my husband, and by my dad. I felt it through my doctors who knew what I had gone through. I felt it through a visit from the stake presidency. I felt it through the woman I visit taught. I felt it through a general authority who spoke with me and gave me encouragement through stories from his ancestors. I felt it through the women I worked with. And yes, I felt it through God.

All that being said, it was still a very dark time in my life. Looking back, I can still feel the weight and heaviness of the darkness around me and inside my very soul. I can feel the grief that occupied my mind and my heart almost every minute of every single day. I can feel the tightness in my chest, the infinite pit in my stomach, and the tears burning on the surface of my eyes. I can feel my heart harden and ache and fill with jealousy at other parents' happiness. And I can feel the frustration, anger, and bitterness overwhelm my entire body as I listened to them complaining about their children.

I remember many Sundays not wanting to go to church. I would get up, take a shower, get dressed, and then lay back down in bed, pull up the covers, and tell Jayze to go without me. I couldn't face the babies. I couldn't face the pregnant women. I couldn't face the happy parents. I couldn't face faking my happiness. I felt crushed and broken and oh so alone. There were days I felt far from God, even though I felt like I was trying with all I had to hold onto my testimony and my faith.

So, there I was, trying again. I had halfheartedly thrown on a skirt and driven to the church for the pre-conference get-together that involved chatting and eating veggies and dip. When the half hour was up, we all congregated in the chapel to watch the October 2013 General Relief Society Meeting. I sat by my friend and waited for the talks to begin.

I had brought a journal with me to write different impressions that came, but it wasn't until President Monson got up to speak that I remember really paying attention.

"There will be times when you will walk a path strewn with thorns and marked by struggle. There may be times when you feel detached - even isolated - from the Giver of every good gift. You worry that you walk alone. Fear replaces faith." 

It was as if God were talking straight to me. He knew how I felt! I sat up a little straighter and listened a little harder.

He told the story of a woman named Tiffany. Her husband was in medical school and many of the responsibilities of taking care of their four children fell to her. Right as she was feeling overwhelmed, she learned that one of her loved ones was diagnosed with cancer. She felt stressed and worried and became discouraged and depressed. She lost her appetite. She lost weight. She tried hard to connect with God through scriptures and prayer, but when no peace came, she felt He had abandoned her.

When a good friend was trying to get her to eat to no avail, Tiffany said the only thing that sounded good to her was homemade bread...but there wasn't any in the house. The next day, a woman they barely knew through Tiffany's sister dropped off a loaf of homemade bread. Tiffany later learned that the woman, Sherrie, had felt prompted to make two loaves of homemade bread that day. Later that same day, Sherrie felt prompted to deliver the extra loaf to Tiffany and despite feeling awkward, followed through with it. The Lord had responded to the prayers said in Tiffany's behalf.

As I listened to the story in the chapel that night, I could feel Tiffany's pain. After Alma, I lost a lot of weight through running and not eating very much. I ran to help me bear the pain of losing my son, but the stress and grief also caused me to lose my appetite. And like Tiffany, I too had been the recipient of someone else's service because they listened to the Spirit. In fact, I had been the recipient of many people's service, as well as the recipient of other tender mercies.

There was that one time when, even though I felt like we didn't really need it because we didn't have a baby at home to care for, the Relief Society sisters brought us dinner for a whole week after we had returned home from Alma's funeral.

As President Monson told the end of the story, I remembered other things...

A sweet embrace from a dear co-worker.
A random quote someone stuck on my front door after a long day at school.
Many visits with a caring bishop.
Special moments with Jayze and Alma.
Invitations to dinner.
Game nights with friends.
Facebook messages I took forever to respond to because I wasn't quite ready yet.

And as the weeks went by, other tender mercies popped up...

BYU-Idaho devotional talks given with Jayze and me in mind.
Other devotional talks with prompted add-ins I felt were meant just for me.
Meeting an apostle of Jesus Christ.
Other conference talks from the October 2013 General Conference.
Songs on Pandora and on the radio.
Blog posts written by others who lost their child (or children), too.

Looking back, I can see that God was in all of these moments and working through all of these people. He was there! I just had to look for Him, and I would find Him.

Lately I've been feeling distant from God again. Before moving to Wichita, I told God, "I'll go wherever you want me to go. Please, just lead us. Please guide us to where thou wants us to go. We're stuck. We don't have a job. We're about to have a baby. I want to serve thee. Please, don't leave us alone."

And he didn't. I can look back at our move from Rexburg to Michigan to Wichita and see God's hand in all of it. He didn't leave us alone. But once we got to Wichita, I began feeling that lonely feeling yet again, especially during these past few weeks.

Where was God?

I was doing everything right. I was getting up with the kids. I was cleaning, organizing, and de-junking our new apartment trying to make it into a home. I was reading my scriptures. I was trying to stay within our new budget. I was trying to support Jayze in his new job and not complain about not having the car during the day. I was trying to get used to a city I had never heard of before it became an option to move there. I was called as a counselor in the Young Women's. I was exercising and eating healthy.

Yet, with all of these things, I still felt anxious, stressed, lonely, and overwhelmed. I wasn't measuring up. I wasn't perfect.

I felt like I wasn't enough.

All of the changes our family went through last year were catching up to me. We had been going, going, going since April. Jayze graduated, we had Kimball, Jayze got the job, we moved to a hotel, we moved to Wichita, and then...back to real, real life. Real, let's slow things down a little bit life. It slowed down enough that the realization came that we wouldn't see our families as often. The realization that I loved living in Michigan and missed it, even though we had only been there for 10 weeks. The realization that we wouldn't be moving again for awhile; we were here and starting afresh for real.

It was like whiplash leaving our long-time friends in Rexburg, making new friends in Michigan, leaving our new friends in Michigan, and starting all over again from total scratch in Wichita. New apartment, new city, new ward, new time zone, new job...new everything, except for the decorations on our walls - y'know. It was exciting and thrilling and sad and exhausting all at once. Jayze loved Wichita right away, while I took more time. I don't know why, but it didn't click for me. And through it all, I felt that, even though I was putting forth a ton of effort, I had lost my constant connection with God...again.

Where was He?

I've learned since our first day here at the end of August that again, it's all about God's timing. I don't know why Alma had to go back to Him sooner than I wanted him to. I don't know why we're in Wichita. But both of them have had to take time.

It seems like God keeps telling me, "Trust in me. Have peace in me. I haven't left you. Don't leave me. I haven't given up on you...don't give up on me. You're right where you need to be. I know you don't know why, but it's all going to be okay. Hold onto me, and I'll lead you and guide you. Don't be afraid. Place your faith in me, not in man. I will lead you along."

I'm continually learning that some things take time. I was thinking the other day how in just a few months' time, I can get around the city without a GPS. I'm more comfortable asking people questions about where to go and where to avoid. I'm getting better and more efficient with leaving the house with the kids. I'm making friends and learning that people really do care.

In short, I'm not alone, and Heavenly Father is sending me all of these tender mercies to remind me of that.

There are going to be days that are just downright lousy. There are going to be times when you wonder, "Where is God? Why is life so hard? Why am I going through this? Is it ever going to get better?"

A few days ago, a quote I posted awhile ago by Boyd K. Packer kept coming to mind:

"It was meant to be that life would be a challenge. To suffer some anxiety, some depression, some disappointment, even some failure is normal. Teach our members that if they have a good, miserable day once in a while, or several in a row, to stand steady and face them. Things will straighten out. There is great purpose in our struggle in life."

So don't give up on God, because He for sure is not giving up on you. He cheers for you. He cries with you. He loves you. You are His child, and He will never forget you. Trust in Him and have faith that you'll get through because God IS there.

"As we seek our Heavenly Father through fervent, sincere prayer and earnest, dedicated scripture study, our testimonies will become strong and deeply rooted. We will know of God's love for us. We will understand that we do not ever walk alone. I promise you that you will one day stand aside and look at your difficult times, and you will realize that He was always there beside you."

~ Thomas S. Monson ~

Picture source

Missing Alma

Aidan grinned from ear to ear and happily ran to the playground. Once he got there, he was a little more cautious. With some prompting, I finally convinced him to climb the stairs so he could go down the slide.

As he started up the stairs, I looked down to check on Kimball, who was still sleeping soundly in the baby carrier against my chest. I looked up again and saw that Aidan had made it to the top of the tall, brown slide. He sat down, smiled, and seemed to want to come down, but didn't seem sure if he could.

I kept saying, "Come on, Aidan! You can do it! Come on down - it'll be fun! Wait, where are you going? Yeah, come on down! You've done it before!" After a lot of prompting, down he slid until he came to the gradual stop at the end of the slide. Once at the end, he hopped back onto the ground, looked my way, and headed toward the stairs to start the process again.

After he was done with the slide, we walked unsteadily across the wood chips to the horses on springs. It was his first time being on one, since the park we always went to in Rexburg didn't have any. He wasn't quite sure what to do, so I asked him, "Do you want to get on? Here, let me help you." I awkwardly bent down, Kimball still in the baby carrier, and plopped him into the saddle.

A little kid who we had met at the slide and looked to be about 5 years old ran over and jumped onto the horse next to Aidan's. He asked me to hold the little toy he had with him so he could rock away as fast as he could without losing his toy. Aidan stared at the little boy and watched his every move.

By watching the little boy, Aidan slowly made the connection that the horse was meant for rocking, and oh! he could put his feet on the metal stirrups to get more momentum.

Feet on the stirrups.

Aidan grinned and laughed as he made the horse go faster and faster for a few seconds and then he went back to watching the little boy, seeing if he could learn anything new again.

Then a little girl came along, jumped on a horse, rode it for a second, jumped back off, and ran to the sand pit. After that, Aidan wanted to go to the sand pit, too. So I gave the little boy back his toy, grabbed Aidan's hands and pulled him off the horse, and off to the sand pit we went...where Aidan did a lot of standing around and watching, trying to figure out how the sand pit worked. Finally, after watching the other kids for a little bit and after a little prompting from me, he carefully walked over and started playing in the dirt. It wasn't long, though, before he stopped what he was doing and went back to watching the kids all around him.

While Aidan was trying to get his bearings in the sand pit, I stood off to the side, trying to let him be independent. As I stood there, one mom asked me how old Aidan was.

I told her, "21 months." 

She smiled, nodded, and said, "He's a cutie." 

"Thanks! He likes watching more than he likes playing with other kids. I don't think I get out with him enough," I said, a little apologetically.

She smiled and said, "Oh, that's okay," and pointed out her little girl. "That's how my daughter was. She recently turned three and is just barely starting to play more independently when we come here. I think it's just a personality thing. Her older sister was a little more crazy and bold when she was that age, but my three-year-old used to be content to just hang out around me and watch the other kids play."

At that point, she got distracted and Aidan started wandering back to the horses, so I kind of waved goodbye and followed Aidan. He got on the horse again, but didn't seem as interested, so we headed toward the swings. I asked him if he wanted to get on, and he replied in his cute little toddler way of affirming that, yes, he did want to get on the swing.

Once on the swing, Aidan had the time of his life! He laughed and kept saying, "Mooooore, mooooore!" So, I stood there, took pictures, grabbed at his feet, and pushed him higher and higher.

As I pushed and played with Aidan, a knot tightened in my stomach and I had to blink back tears in the midst of laughing with him. For some reason, every time I get on the swings and swing with Aidan, or when he swings by himself and I push him, I think of Alma. Every time. And as I pushed, I thought of the reason why this time at the park, my heart felt heavy. It wasn't just because it was a new and unfamiliar place or because it was the first time I was at the park by myself with two kids and felt a new and awkward carrying a baby around and following a toddler, trying to make it look like I knew what I was doing. It was more than that because, really, none of that was really bothering me because I love what I do - trying to be a good mom to my kids. 

My heart felt heavy because of how careful and cautious Aidan was around this new and unfamiliar park. He was attempting to play with kids he didn't know - ones who were older than him and seemed to know how the different entertainment on the playground worked. And what the mom said stuck out to me about her little daughter who was also cautious. She was the second child and Aidan is the second child. I've heard from a lot of moms that the second baby tends to be calmer and easier than the first baby (obviously, not always the case), and it made me wonder what Alma would be like. Would he be more crazy and bold like the mom's older daughter? Would I be out of breath chasing him around, while also keeping an eye on Aidan and Kimball? 

At that moment, I wished Alma was there. I wished he was there so I could experience him. Experience his personality on a day-to-day basis and see him play with his younger brothers. I could just imagine him with high energy, running around everywhere, while pulling Aidan along and showing him how things worked. Being the older brother and taking care of his younger brother. Showing him the ropes and getting in some trouble now and then. 

It's hard being an angel momma. The "what if's" are always there and my invisible child is always lingering in moments like these where I remember I'd be watching over three boys and not just two. The moments where I try to imagine what my life would be like if I were raising Alma right now along with Aidan and Kimball.

These heart-wrenching, lump-in-the-throat moments hit me like a ton of bricks, and it's hard to catch my breath and get back up again. Grief isn't ever-present anymore, but in the moments it comes, it hurts just as much as the days following Alma's death did.

In times like these, I'm even more grateful for my Savior Jesus Christ and for His love for me. They are reminders to grow closer to Him and rely on Him - in both good times and bad times. They're also reminders that I haven't forgotten Alma, and he's still a huge influence in my life. I'm so grateful for that! That he is a part of our family and always will be. I just want to live worthy enough to see and hold him again. I know I can claim that promise of forever families and eternal life if I just turn to my Savior and seek for the peace and comfort that comes only through Him.

"Faith in Jesus Christ and His atoning sacrifice is, and forever will be, the first principle of the gospel and the foundation upon which our hope for 'peace in this world, and eternal life in the world to come' is built. In our search for peace amidst the daily challenges of life, we’ve been given a simple pattern to keep our thoughts focused on the Savior, who said: 'Learn of me, and listen to my words; walk in the meekness of my Spirit, and you shall have peace in me. I am Jesus Christ.'" 

("A Pattern for Peace," W. Christopher Waddell, 2016)

A Trigger

I woke up this morning to snow, snow, snow. Lots of fresh, beautiful, glittery, cold snow. Snow that Aidan wanted to touch, and when he looked up as I held him, he laughed at all the fat snowflakes falling on his face.

We actually braved the snow today because I had another pregnancy appointment. I'm always nervous for when they come up and part of me wants to avoid them, but at the same time I was excited to see the baby on the ultrasound screen. It's also good to have reassurance that everything is going well. And if not, then I know I'm in good hands with whatever happens.

Thankfully I was able to line up a babysitter (thank you my sweet visiting teacher!). Aidan just cries and screams if I bring him with me, so it was nice leaving him with my friend and her son, where he would most likely be happier. Aidan caught sight of the toys and didn't look back. Glad he's okay I made him stay in my arms long enough for a kiss and a hug before I left. I have to take advantage of it while I can.

At the beginning of the appointment, the wait time wasn't bad. Within five minutes, I was with the ultrasound tech looking at my cute baby boy. After taking down all the stats, the ultrasound tech printed off a profile picture for me and sent me back to the waiting room to uh...wait some more. Again, within five minutes, I was called back, did the routine weight check and whatnot, and was led back to a room to wait for the nurse practitioner.

As I followed the clinician aide, we walked down a hallway I wasn't familiar with. I told her, "I don't think I've been in this room before."

She glanced back and said, "Yeah, a lot of women get concerned because it says 'Procedure' on the outside, but we don't always use it for procedures."

I was a little curious, but once she led me into the room I realized that I had been there before. And I wanted to back right out again.

The clinician aide said a few more things and then walked out, leaving me to sit down on the little bed and experience a flashback from a little over two years ago. It was the same room Jayze and I were led to after we found out Alma had died. I hadn't been in it since that day, and I didn't want to be in it today.

Memories came flooding back. Memories I wasn't prepared to remember in that moment. Blurs and mumbles and instructions coming from the doctor and nurse practitioner, being handed tissues, holding Jayze's hand, calling family and work to let them know what happened, trying to grasp onto this new reality, realizing the baby wasn't going to move again...

I remembered last year when I was pregnant with Aidan having a trigger at the clinic and how the nurse practitioner came back in sooner than expected. I didn't want the same thing to happen. I wanted to be strong. I didn't want to explain why I was having a breakdown at 11:00 in the morning. But then I thought, "I don't have to be strong all the time." And I cried.

This time, the waiting period was longer and I took my time trying to gain control of my emotions again. Trying to distract myself by looking out the window at the long, thick icicles hanging outside. I didn't want to be there anymore...it reminded me too much of that day, of the hospital, of details I hadn't let myself think about for awhile.

I hugged myself, trying to get some warmth back into myself - loosen up the tight feeling I had in my chest. It was then, in that moment, I was reminded that I can do hard things. I have done hard things in the past, I do hard things now, and I can do hard things in the future.

Sometimes it seems like progress just isn't happening. Day-to-day happenings aren't always spectacular. Sometimes it seems like I'm just waiting for another day to be over so that hopefully the next one will be better. And life is like that at times, which is okay. But what's empowering is actually looking back. The small stuff that doesn't seem like much really does add up. Looking back, I've come so far. Through all the times I didn't think I would get through, I'm still here. Me, a stronger me, hopefully a better me.

There are still hard days, grieving days. Hard moments, grieving moments. And that's okay. Even though the memories that came flooding back today were hard, they were also special and sacred because they are of my Alma and the events leading up to meeting him and knowing I'm his mom forever and always. What an honor.

I'm also grateful I don't have to do hard things alone. The Savior has never left me alone in this trial. I may have pushed him away a few times, but every time I come back, He's there to welcome me with open arms. The love I have felt from Him is overwhelming and sustaining. He has walked with me every step of the way. Looking back, I can see His hand leading me and guiding me in moments I may not have noticed him there. But He was! And He is there for each of us as long as we are willing to reach out and grasp His always outstretched hand. How thankful I am for that.  

My Lifeguard

Dark, ominous waves crashed against the side of the boat, spraying fine, cold mists across anxious faces and frantic-working hands struggling to control the bobbing boat. Lightening lit up the black sky and thunder crashed in the not-too-far distance. The wind tossed them on the rippling waves, and it seemed the night would never end and all hope was lost.

Suddenly, there in the distance, was a white light in the form of a person. As the figure neared, the men in the boat realized it was walking on water. The appearance of the strange phantom, in addition to the angry storm, seemed to push them over the edge and they cried out in fear.

"But straightway Jesus spake unto them, saying, Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid."

Then one of the men in the boat called Peter said, "Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water."

And the Lord answered, "Come."

Peter did come. With the furious wind still blowing his hair and the waves threatening to swallow him up, Peter came. He stepped out of the unsteady boat and placed one foot after the other onto the likewise unsteady water. Taking one step at a time, Peter walked on water toward the Son of God - his friend, his master, his Savior.

His drenched robes dripped water back into the tumultuous sea, his eyes on Jesus, his path straight. Until, Peter realized where he was and what he was doing. Who was he to walk on water? The wind sounded in his ears, the water felt cold, and Peter's faith wavered and he feared. Slowly, he began to sink.

And, probably with waving arms, he cried out, "Lord, save me."

"And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?" (Matthew 14:24-31)

I love the story of Peter walking on water because I'm like Peter - we're all like Peter. There are times I walk confidently towards the Savior, but then realize that I'm doing more than I thought I was capable of. I see the winds trying to blow me over and the water struggling to swallow me whole and my faith wavers. I take my eyes off the Savior and worry about all of my troubles and heartaches and despairs and sins and begin to sink because I'm trying to fix them all on my own and it's not working. I can't do it on my own - I need the Savior.

In 17 days, Alma would have been 2 years old. How do I deal with this? The unworried moments leading up to finding out he died. The short, beautiful moments I had him in my arms. The agonizing moments after burying him. 

There are so many emotions going through my mind and my heart I can barely comprehend. So many missed moments. I'll never get to see Alma play with Aidan in this life. Or take his first day of school picture. Or watch him balance and ride a bike for the first time. So many questions. How did this happen? Why did this happen? So many doubts. What did I do wrong? Was I not good enough?

Feeling broken.

The hurt has eased up, but there are still moments when I'm angry and wonder why. There are still moments when I catch my breath and realize my life isn't the same as it would have been with Alma here. There are still moments when I wipe away my tears, wondering, wishing, speculating, hurting, feeling broken all over again...

I was looking through my journal recently and came across a sticky note with short reminders I didn't want to forget about during the months after losing Alma. A few stood out to me: "same story of faith," joy amidst the sorrow, immersion in spiritual things, generosity.

Faith, joy, spirit, generosity. These are things that point to Christ. Yes, I had numbing emotions, empty arms, emotional and physical pain, but I also had love, happiness, a sense of humor, and peace - things that only come from the Savior.

Some days I lost my faith and I let the wave of grief wash over me and drag me down. Some days my faith was less than perfect and I let the wave of anger engulf me. Some days I lost sight of what was really important and let the wind blow me over and let the wave of fear and doubt overtake me.

There were days I thought I was drowning.

And there are still days when I let the waves conquer me and the wind rip me apart, and I begin to drown. Those days aren't over. But, my Savior has always been there for me. He immediately stretches forth his hand and saves me from drowning. He saves me from the immense, black deep gulf of misery and anguish and brings me back to Him. I may be soaking wet, but because of Jesus Christ, my faith is restored.

"When [Christ] says to the poor in spirit, “Come unto me,” He means He knows the way out and He knows the way up. He knows it because He has walked it. He knows the way because He is the way" (Jeffrey R. Holland, Broken Things to Mend, 2006). 

The Savior knows what each of us go through. He has been there himself because He took upon himself each of our pains and sorrows and sins. He knows how to comfort each of us. I know because I've been there. I may lose sight of my Savior, but He never loses sight of me. And He never loses sight of you.

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I'm still on the mend. I'm still in the healing process. But it's a lot easier when I let Christ do it instead of sitting in the corner licking my own wounds hoping they'll heal on their own painlessly and without infection. But it doesn't work that way. Doing it on my own brings me zero real happiness. With Christ, I can have joy amidst the sorrow. I can feel love because love comes from Him. I can show him my wounds and cry and come to him, and He can doctor them up, give me the proper salves, and help heal me. It takes time, but I'm never alone when I focus my eyes on the Savior. And whether I lose my faith or not, He's always there to be my anchor.

So, hold onto your faith. Don't give up. When Christ extends his arm, grasp it and don't let go. He knows you perfectly, and He loves you perfectly. He can mend you and heal you and make you whole.
 

"If you are lonely, please know you can find comfort. If you are discouraged, please know you can find hope. If you are poor in spirit, please know you can be strengthened. If you feel you are broken, please know you can be mended." 

~ Jeffrey R. Holland ~

A Gift for Alma

"I'm getting nervous, are you?"

Jayze nodded his head and said, "Yeah, I am." 

Our car plowed ahead in the deep snow. The inside of our car was warm and Aidan was quiet in his car seat. As we drove by the park we saw a few families sledding down the small, steep hills. We stopped at the stop sign, looked both ways, and slowly turned the corner and drove up the small hill to the parking lot. I couldn't help tears coming to my eyes as I thought about my two children who were born there. They were both such different experiences. 

Jayze found a parking spot and climbed out of the car. He walked around and opened the door for me. With another glance at the hospital, I climbed out of the car too. Jayze grabbed the car seat with Aidan in it, and hand-in-hand, we began our trek towards the hospital in the deep snow and icy parking lot. Clenched tightly in my hands, but not so much where it wrinkled the ribbon, was a soft, white, crocheted blanket.

We walked in the main entrance but didn't see anyone there. A man walked in behind us and told us we could register in the emergency section. So, Jayze and I nervously rounded the corner and approached the emergency check-in desk. A woman behind the desk was getting her coat on as she was talking to someone out of our sight. I looked at Jayze and softly murmured, "Do you mind asking?" 

As Jayze wondered how to get the woman's attention, the woman noticed us and asked how she could help us. Jayze and I looked at each other, not sure how to ask our question. Jayze said, "Well, we're just wondering...well we uh, have a blanket that we made...do you guys accept donations? Or, is there a place that we can donate blankets to...that you guys accept blankets for babies...for stillborns...?"

As Jayze was in the middle of asking the question and said "babies," the woman nodded her head and said, "Yes, of course." As Jayze said "stillborn" and handed her the soft, white blanket, a sad look came across her face and she said yes while looking at the blanket and then back at us with a sort of questioning look. Right before we turned to go, the woman said, "This is beautiful, did you make this?"

At this point, I was crying and could only nod my head. Jayze looked at me, saw that I was crying and couldn't answer, and responded while gesturing toward me, "Yes, she made it." 

I turned away to hide my tears and heard her say, "We'll make sure they get it." 

We walked out the door, Jayze still carrying Aidan in the car seat, both of us still walking hand-in-hand, but the white blanket no longer in my arms. 

The tears kept flowing. As we walked back towards our car, Jayze said, "Donating the blanket didn't cause a stillborn to happen. The blanket is there to help someone...to help comfort them like it did us."

When Jayze said that, my mind flashed back to the night before when I finally finished the blanket I started back in August. I had wanted to do something special for Alma's birthday, but couldn't figure out what to do. I thought about all the things that made Alma's birthday special and one thing that kept coming to my mind was the nurse who said, "We're able to give these blankets and mother-child bracelets and necklaces away because people donate them to the hospital." I had taken up crocheting again and thought that donating a crocheted blanket like the one we received in the hospital when Alma was born would be the perfect gift. 

I started on the blanket. The first one turned out awful. I was devastated, but I was also determined to try again. It had to be special. I found a new, easier pattern, unraveled the ugly blanket, and set to work again. That time, the blanket started to turn out. But as I kept crocheting it I realized that I hated working on the blanket. Tears began falling every time I picked it up to continue working on it. I couldn't get it out of my head that this blanket was for another stillborn baby. I kept envisioning another couple going through the pain Jayze and I had to go through and it just broke my heart every single time. I didn't want to bear the burden of losing a child again...even if the child wasn't mine. Right before I tied off the last stitch, I folded the blanket up and stuffed it in my closet. Alma's birthday came and went and the blanket remained untouched, but unforgotten. 

As Christmas came closer and closer, I wondered what I could give Alma. He would be 16 months old. I couldn't buy him a toy because he's not here to play with it. I kept mulling it over in my mind but couldn't think of anything to give him. One day, the white, crocheted blanket came to my mind. Once again, I thought it would be the perfect gift for Alma. 

I told Jayze my plan, and he thought it was a great idea. Last night, I finally brought myself to pull out the blanket from my closet and finish the last stitch. I laid out the finished blanket across my lap, envisioned a baby inside it, and wished with all my heart it was meant for a live baby. But the thought also came to my mind of how grateful I was for the donated blanket Alma was wrapped in. Once again, grief brought me closer to my baby Alma. 

Walking away from the hospital this Christmas day reminded me of another baby lying in a manger wrapped in a blanket. In that moment, I remembered that because of that baby, I can see my baby again. Because of my Savior Jesus Christ, my family can be together forever. 

And we will be.

And that really is the perfect gift. 

Grieving Differently

When Alma died, Jayze and I drove home from the doctor's office, both of our faces streaked with tears. We were shocked. We were sad. We couldn't believe that it had happened to us.

But at the same time, I remember that deep down inside I was unbelievably calm. How did that happen?

Members of our Relief Society came and brought us dinner. A couple of the wonderful ladies I worked with came to bring us food and words of comfort. Jayze and I had priesthood blessings given to us that same day. Jayze's sister and brother-in-law came over and brought us flowers and food. And it seemed as each visitor came, I found myself wanting to comfort them. They were there to comfort me and all I could feel was that everything was going to be okay. I now know that 100% of my calm feelings was because of the many prayers said in our behalf. I had never felt that feeling before then, but it was oh so good.

After Alma was born and his memorial service was over, Jayze and I came back to Rexburg ready to go back to work. I look back now and think how in the heck did we do that? How did we just up and go back to work a couple of weeks after we lost our only child? I think we were both on the same page and just wanted to push the grief away a few more days. It didn't seem right to stay at home and be depressed all the time. We both felt the need to stay busy and not dwell on what had happened.

Later though, grief hit and it hit hard.

I got angry easily. I got sad easily. My outlook was gloomy. Some Sundays I didn't want to go to church. Some days I didn't want to go to school. Some days I didn't want to go to work. Some days I didn't want to even get out of bed. Or make dinner. Or do the laundry. Or focus on homework.

Some days all I wanted to do was sit in Alma's bedroom and cry while holding his blue blanket, wishing with all my heart that it was him I was holding instead. The crib was empty. His clothes were all boxed up. There was no baby clutter anywhere, no evidence at all outside of that room that we had had a baby at all. Even my body healed super fast from the labor and delivery. I barely had any stretch marks, my tummy became flat again, and exercise was easier than I thought it would be after having a baby. I also lost weight fast because I didn't really have much of an appetite. It seemed I had been robbed of even the memory of carrying our precious bundle of joy.

And what became even harder was that Jayze and I grieved differently. We were patient with each other those first few weeks, but when grief hit things got harder. It seemed like some days we couldn't connect and we would go to bed feeling even more frustrated and sadder than ever. It was emotionally exhausting and incredibly hard to look forward and have an eternal perspective. I was caught in the here and now and couldn't shake the fact that my arms were heavy, my heart was aching, and my emotions were on edge all the time. I had a breakdown almost every day. Bathroom stalls on campus became my best friends.

To get that eternal perspective back and to help with my grieving I began researching like crazy. I researched stillborns. One of my friends sent me a link to a woman's blog who had been through something similar as me. Once I read hers, I searched for more like it. And I found as I read other blogs or other people's experiences, I found that we ALL grieve differently. There were some experiences I could relate to better than others, but it all finally made sense. It's okay to grieve differently. Grief is so broad. Sometimes I am at one stage of the grieving process and I can relate better to someone I couldn't relate to when I was at a different stage.

Learning about grief has helped me realize that I don't have to let it win. I don't have to constantly be a victim of it. I accept that it's always going to be a part of my life now, but I don't have to let it be my constant companion. I can do hard things and I can be happy now.

Jayze and I will never "get over" the loss of our child. Grief is always there to remind us of what we're missing out on. But what we've tried to do is not let the loss of Alma break us apart. We are an eternal, forever and ever family and it started the moment Jayze and I knelt together and were sealed in the Snowflake, AZ LDS Temple. We want to someday raise Alma together.

Even though life happens and it's hard, we can let our trials refine us. We can hang on to that eternal perspective; realize better things are ahead; and as hard as it is sometimes, never.give.up.

We can hang on to our Savior, because He knows exactly how each of us feels. He knows how I grieve and He can be there to comfort me when I feel completely alone and feel like no one else seems to quite understand.

Looking back, losing Alma did a number on our marriage. But the ups and downs (that still happen) have changed Jayze and me for the better. We want our eternal marriage more than ever because we know someone on the other side is waiting for us. He is cheering us on and doesn't want us to give up. Instead of growing apart, Jayze and I have become closer and know that a forever family is what we both want.

We are fighting for that. 

"If you want something to last forever, you treat it differently. You shield it and protect it. You never abuse it. You don’t expose it to the elements. You don’t make it common or ordinary. If it ever becomes tarnished, you lovingly polish it until it gleams like new. It becomes special because you have made it so, and it grows more beautiful and precious as time goes by."

~ F. Burton Howard ~

33 Weeks: Update

 ~ Baby Update ~

Size of a pineapple (about four pounds).

His skeleton is hardening.

Acting more and more like a baby outside of the womb. 

Has his own immune system. 

The past couple of weeks have been kind of rough, but there have been so many blessings too.  This pregnancy has been hard - more emotionally than physically, but there is still that physical aspect of it.  I knew that when we got pregnant again it wouldn't be all excitement and happiness.  I have to keep reminding myself that I am blessed to be pregnant again and to have made it this far.  

The hardest part about this pregnancy is the fear and anxiety.  It has been hard fighting the darkness and hopelessness that always seem to linger right by me waiting to make its move.   

After Alma died, my mom sent me a book she filled with quotes.  I was looking through it and one in particular caught my eye:

"Even though we may feel lost in the midst of our current circumstances, God promises the hope of His light....Even after the darkest night, the Savior of the world will lead you to a gradual, sweet, and bright dawn that will assuredly rise within you.  As you walk towards the hope of God's light, you will discover the compassion, love, and goodness of a loving Heavenly Father, in whom there is no darkness at all."

~ Dieter F. Uchtdorf ~

  

So, in an effort to throw off that darkness and look to the light, I thought about some positive/funny things that go along with pregnancy.  After thinking about them, I've realized that this almost 9-month journey has had many highlights and joys weaved in, not just darkness.

Kicks:
This little baby kicks a lot, and I LOVE it.  Sometimes it hurts and is uncomfortable, but I don't care because it helps me know he's still alive.  Whenever he's not moving and I'm pretty sure he's just sleeping, I still get out a popsicle, lay on my left side, and count ten movements.  With such a panicky mom, I'm not sure this baby gets much sleep at all.  I wonder if when he's born and sleeping, I'll go up to him and poke him, just to make sure he's okay.  I'm not sure I'm going to like him sleeping so much...hopefully he'll snore. :)

Another fun thing about him kicking so much is I like to put my empty water bottle or my phone on my stomach and watch him kick it around. 

Maxi Skirts:
The best thing that has happened to me in a long time regarding my sparse wardrobe is my black maxi skirt.  It is the most comfortable thing ever, stretches as my belly stretches, and is forgiving to my body as I get bigger.  If they were only $5 each, I would have a closetful right now. 

Waddling:
I have been more achy this pregnancy (probably because I never work out anymore), and I find myself waddling more than walking now that I'm bigger.  It's nice to be entertainment for those who watch me try to walk down the grocery aisle...

Nurses/Doctors:
I have heard four times this past week from both my nurses and doctors that I'm not a "nut job."  It is so reassuring having a great staff who looks after me and my baby and who don't care if I come in for a random heartbeat check or if I think my Braxton Hicks are real labor when they're not.

Stains on Shirts:
My belly is so big right now that when I look down I can't even see my feet, let alone any stains I might have at the bottom half of my shirt.  But those stains just mean that I'm pregnant and there's life inside this big belly of mine.

Dreams:
I have crazy dreams practically every night.  They are always about what happened the day before too.  For example, Jayze always has a pen on him, and I'm notorious for never having a pen.  I always borrow one from him, but I've lost pens so many times that he's a little wary about letting me borrow his pen longer than five minutes.  The other day we needed a bunch of pens and pencils to bring to a party, and we had to hurry and scour our house for them because they are everywhere.  Anyway, that same night I dreamed of Jayze holding up a big bag of his pens and saying to me, "I'm willing to bring all of my pens."

I also had to ask him one time, "So I just remembered something...you did this and then I did that and then this happened.  Did that happen in real life or did I just dream it?"  

And Jayze answered, "You just dreamed it."

Having to go to the bathroom 50 times a day (exaggeration? probably not):
Not much to say about this one except that I now call it my second home.

But the nice thing about this one is I never have trouble taking the urine test when I go to the doctor. :)

Prepping for the Baby:
Despite how hard this one has been emotionally for me, it has also been fun when I let go of the fear and dream of having another person in our home.  We just bought a pack 'n play and set it up in our bedroom, along with the rocking chair and ottoman Jayze's mom and sisters gave us last year.  It was hard having them in the bedroom with us at first - a daily reminder of what might not be - but I also find myself staring at the pack 'n play imagining a baby inside it.  I love that it's so close to my bed.  The fear is still there, but when it's not as strong, I love the feeling of excitement that I get when I think of bringing this baby home.

Talks with Jayze:
I love talking with Jayze about my fears and excitement because I think both of us have really tried hard this pregnancy to connect, spend time with each other, and really be on the same page.  He has been my anchor, and it's been comforting to know I can lean on him during the good and bad times.

Priesthood Blessings:
In times of darkness and anxiety, priesthood blessings have helped me so much.  I used to think that priesthood blessings were only reserved for when you were sick or before school started, but I've come to realize that I can ask for one whenever I feel the need.  Whenever I feel sad, overwhelmed, stressed, or hopeless, priesthood blessings help buoy me up.

Pictures:
It's amazing how gradual pregnancy bellies grow.  Some days I feel huge and other days I feel smaller than the day I did before.  It's fun going back to the beginning of this pregnancy and looking through the pictures, watching my belly get bigger and bigger. 

Ultrasounds:
In addition to pictures outside the womb, I love the pictures inside the womb, too, when I can actually see the baby's basic outline and features.  Ultrasound pictures help remind me that there is an actual baby inside of me full of life, growing bigger and stronger every week. 

 

4-7 more weeks to go...