Babies

I made this movie as sort of an anniversary thing.  We are pregnant again and I had the pleasure of going to another 16 week check-up.  It brought mixed emotions: Joy that this baby is still alive, sadness for the little guy we lost, and gratitude for the miracle of healing.  So enjoy
 the video of our little lost boy and the happy news of a new baby to come!  Due March 8th.

Nike Belle

I find myself thinking about this funny little kid a lot these days and figured I better write down a few things before they become lost forever...

1. She loves to laugh and she loves to laugh HARD.  She's not a giggler or a chuckler or even a guffawer...she is a laugh until your belly hurts and you can't breath anymore girl.  If something is funny she wants it to last as long as she possibly can.  Watch it again, tell it again, do it again.  Just keep that laughin' going.

2. She is very observant.  She comes home from school and tells me tidbits like, "Christian's Mom died because she took too much medicine and now his Dad has to find a new job.  I hope he's not too sad."  and "Miss Camie's favorite color is orange but she just wears black all of the time."  When it was her birthday she said, "It's weird.  I don't feel 6.  I feel like I'm just still 5."  and the same about Sierra's birthday, "She still just seems like she is 10 to me."

3. She does not like to solve her own problems.  She just wants life to go smooth and easy and when it doesn't she often has a hard time coming up with a solution to it.  She does not like to be assigned creativity.  She hates coming up with sentences and drawings to match because she doubts her ability.  My other kids have thoroughly enjoyed drawing and coloring in kindergarten, but Nikell keeps it as simple as possible with as few colors as possible and as few words as possible.

4. She is becoming an amazing reader.  She still is unsure of just how good she is, but she is starting to really enjoy it and believe that she is a reader.  She reads us a story or two every night before bed and even participates in scripture reading.

5. She doesn't like to let people down or have people mad at her.  She wants everyone to be happy and will try her darndest to make it so.  She is having some great life lessons at school realizing that it's not always her job to keep everyone happy and that unhappy people are less fun to be around.  Her advice to Aiddie the other day was this, "Aiddie you shouldn't let other people decide if you are sad.  If they are mad at you then you can still be happy.  Just walk away and find someone else to play with."

6. I think her favorite thing to say is, "I wish..."  Whenever she really really wants something (which is kind-of often), she doesn't ask or even say that she wants it, she wishes.  "Oh, I wish I could have a cookie right now."  "I wish I could play with someone like Sierra is."  "I wish I had money to buy that."

7.  She loves to sing.  She sings loud and she sings clear.  Although I haven't quite convinced her that I am a Child of God does not contain the words, "An Dearthly Home"  Her favorite song is one she sang in Sacrament meeting, "Jesus Once Was a Little Child."

I love this kid...

Oregon

Mialee and Maggie

Abigail

Nike-Belle and Jakeeeee

Abby and Eli--our reason for going to Oregon

Trouble AKA JJ AKA Jesse

JJ and Kiella

Joe and Abigail

Abby and Shanee

We took a whirlwind trip to Oregon this past weekend.  It was a lot of fun--as usual.  The perfect balance of playing and talking and sitting and sleeping and even exercising!  My nephew, Eli, agreed to come stay with us for a couple of days before we took him home.  I don't think my children will ever get over having him here.  He is seriously the sweetest, nicest kid you will ever meet.  He entertained my children for hours and when I stumbled upon him and Aiddie playing in the sandbox together my heart nearly melted right out of my chest.  It's times like these that I contemplate kidnapping my nephews.  I want my girls to know what it's like to have an older brother and they never will.  But alas, Eli had to go home and get ready to go on his mission...

We went to Oregon to attend Eli taking out his endowments and Abby getting baptized.  Most of Shanee's kids are right between years of mine, but somehow Jake and Nikell ended up in the same grade.  Jake is also rather sweet and he tends to tug at my heartstrings too.  I tried to talk him into coming home with me, but he wouldn't.  And then there's J.J.  I have never had so much fun watching a kid in my life.  Him and Kiella alternated kissing and hugging and then Kiella running for her life.  I watched that kid uproot the same plant 27 times while I was there, successfully drench 5 cousins with the hose, sneak several snacks, and bring all the inside toys outside and all the outside toys inside (usually by method of throwing or driving).  He captured my heart too, in the end.  Who couldn't love those blue eyes? 

One of my favorite pictures is the one of Joe and Abby.  Joe is one of my all-time favorite people ever.  He has an unsquashable optimism that we could all benefit from.  He drives his mother wildly crazy while he happily does whatever task he is assigned while managing to do about 5 other things simultaneously.  He accompanied the cousins on his guitar while they sang at the baptism and I giggled the whole time Shanee was trying to help him learn his part.  I especially love how he is sneaking a peak at me when I took his and Abby's picture--he was supposed to be smiling to someone else's camera.

It was a fast trip and I always come home wishing my big sis' lived so much closer...

Lessons learned from a whiner at the gym.

I was at the gym this morning and encountered a familiar phenomenon.  There was a man who had contracted the help of a personal trainer, assumedly to help himself get in shape.  So there they were, the trainer and that man.  The trainer would tell the man what to do and the man would look at the trainer in disbelief and ask if that was really what they asked.  Or the trainer would instruct the man to repeat an exercise and the man would reply that he was getting a little tired.  The trainer would repeat the instructions and assure the man that it was the last time.  And on and on it went.  And this has always baffled me.  Why would someone go seek out a personal trainer, ask that trainer for help, go to the trouble of setting up appointments and then show up for the appointments and pay the trainer for their time only to grumble and complain the whole time they are in the trainers stewardship.  I often have to fight the urge to turn around and yell, "You wanted the help!  You asked for it!  You are paying for it!  Now just do it and stop complaining!"

And then the brick fell. 

How many times in my life have I asked for help from a higher being?  How many times have a plead for insight and instruction and knowledge and peace?  And then how many times have I turned around and complained about my ordeal...about what I was being forced to do.  I approach the Lord in faith that He has the power to help me and that in the end the results will be worth it--just as that man approached his personal trainer hoping that it would be worth it.  And that man was performing, doing, acting...and complaining the whole time.  Am I performing, doing, acting...and complaining the whole time?

Ahhhh, the hard truths we are sometimes forced to learn in our judgement of others.  I am no better.  I just complain about different things.  Just call me Lemuel...or man that complains to personal trainer...either way it's the same.

And to quote good 'ole Jeffrey R. Holland, "No misfortune is so bad the whining won't make it worse."

Time to turn over another new leaf!

Even if you eat out on Sunday

I love my religion.  Have I ever told you that?  Cuz I do.  It is a religion that teaches perfection but does not expect it right now.  It is a religion that encourages love and understanding and forgiveness.  It is a religion that teaches of a God and His Son and a gift of a Spirit to whisper peace to your aching soul.  It is a religion that teaches people not to judge, but rather to reach out and help one another.  It is a religion that urges us to love ourselves, but more importantly to love our neighbors, and to even love our enemies.  It is a religion that teaches us to share all we have, even our time, talents, and yes, even our money.  It is a religion that teaches that we can all be saved according to our choices (not someone else's) and because of the great Atonement.  It is a religion that encourages people to obey and honor the laws of this amazing country.  It is a religion where God speaks to us through Prophets, where He has not forgotten us, and where His greatest desire is to have us back.  It is a religion of pride and yet great humility.  It is a religion who accepts everyone...even me.

And yet, within this great religion, I know no one, nope...not one person, who is ALL of these things.  I know of people who go to church every Sunday and then go out to eat at their favorite local restaurant.  And I have seen these same people walk over to their neighbors house and pick up three or four extra kids and take them for the day because they knew that neighbor needed a break.  I know of people who send their kids to church every week and yet rarely set foot inside a church themselves.  I know of people who put on a suit and tie and look good on Sunday and then act completely different every other day.  I also know of people who try.  People who go to church as much as they can, and sometimes even when they really don't want to.  I know of people who reach out and help everyone all the time and others who do little for anyone.  I know of people who make sacrifices.  I know of people who have a testimony, a strong testimony, but for some reason choose not to live this religion that I so love.  I know of people who hate each other and can't even look at each other and yet they go to the same church.  I know a lot of people...and I could tell you a lot of things that they are doing wrong... within my religion.  But guess what?  I still love it.

I love it because we all can be part of it.  All of us.  The tattooed guy down the street, the Sunday diners, the screamer back across the way, even the crazy horticulturalist that doesn't like you messing with the river...even me.  Cuz here's the thing...Although this religion teaches perfection it doesn't demand it right now.  And just because crazy scream-at-her-kids-all-the-time lady hasn't figured out how to find peace and love and do away with all that anger--she is still welcome to come, to partake, to start over if she wants.  And if she doesn't want to try right now, if she thinks that just coming to church is enough right now,  and if she doesn't think the same things that I do right now...that's okay.  She is still welcome.  And so am I.

And even though crazy lady has her sins, and someone else just might be judging crazy lady and so they have their sins and even someone else maybe tried to help crazy lady and something crazy came from it and now they hate each other...they are all welcome.  All of us, crazy-judging-never-go-to-church-Sunday-dining-screamers are all welcome.  You can come if you hate the world.  You can come if you love everyone.  You can come if you have something to offer.  You can come if you have nothing left to give.  Heck, you can even come if you only have one kid and claim to not want anymore.  Why?  Cuz no matter how much I judge you or how much anyone else gives you the evil eye, or how much you are called a hypocrite--it matters not.  Because all of us crazy-shop-on-Sunday-beer-batter-chicken-dinner-eaters don't call the shots.  God does.  It's His religion.  And even though I call it my religion, it's really His.  And no matter what I do, or what you do, it matters not as long as you're square with God.

So judge me all you want.  Make me mad.  Hate me.  Call me a hypocrite.  It matters not because I love this religion and I will stand by it with or without you...but you are always welcome.

Baby Boy McKellar

I know you are all wondering and I know that you will not pry.  And I thank you for your patience and your love.  The overwhelming sense of caring and love that you have given has been a healing balm to our aching hearts.  The flowers are a constant reminder of the love and support of friends and family.  The kind words, though often making me cry all over again, lift us up.  We are so grateful for all of you.  We love you and we thank God for you.  So, for those of you who wonder and need to know, or are even just curious, here is out story...or at least the best I can give you...

On Monday, December 10, 2012, I went in for a routine 16 week baby check up.  It was later in the day and I left Sierra and Mialee home to babysit.  I had been rushing and hustling and had not thought much about my appointment and so as I got to the hospital and began the walk into the building, I began to contemplate it a bit.  I was imagining the usual happenings of a routine check up and suddenly had a flash of a scenerio where my doctor could not find a heartbeat and then me calling Jason to tell him the news.  I obviously dismissed it...until it happened.  The funny thing was that as I lay there looking into my doctors face, watching for signs of panic, she was totally calm and not the least bit worried.  She kept saying, "Wow, this little baby is really hiding from us today."  And she would look a little bit more.  "Hmm, this baby doesn't want to be found."  And more looking.  After several minutes she gave up and said, "Well, we'll just have to go find it on the ultra-sound."  So off we went to do an ultra-sound, and still she was not the least bit worried...until it happened.  There on the screen was my baby.  Unmoving.  And no heartbeat.  She looked and looked and she was honestly shocked, more so than I was.  After 5 healthy, mundane, pregnancies she never imagined this.  "So now what?"  I asked.  She explained that the baby was too big for my body to miscarry by itself at this point--or that it might take a long time to do so.  So I would have to be induced.  Wednesday Night.  I was supposed to call and see how busy the hospital was and get a time.  Wednesday night.  This was when the tears hit.  I quickly exited the hospital and began trying, desperately, to call Jason.  And, of course, my phone wouldn't work.  I eventually turned it off and back on again and called his work.  No answer.  So I moved on to his cell.  Hearing his voice, I asked him where he was.  I needed him.  I wanted him.  NOW.  He was on his way  home.  "What is the matter?"  He asked.  I could barely choke out the words, "Our baby died.  It no longer has a heartbeat."  I told him I would just come home, and I wondered how I would make it.  I sobbed the whole way...

I cried the whole night.  I began to text family and friends, knowing that they needed to know, but unwilling to try to actually physically speak to anyone.  I was a little shocked and a lot sad.  Once I finally slept, I slept soundly, until one of my sick kids woke me up--and it all came rushing back.  Then the tears began again.  My head hurt so bad and I just couldn't stop crying.

I had two days to process the loss of this baby before I had to go in and be induced.  And I did well at that.  What I didn't do was process the fact that I had to actually go in and have a baby.  That started to hit me Wednesday and I was scared.  I was not prepared for labor and delivery.  It's one thing to have to lose your baby and whole other thing to have to go in and give birth to it.  But regardless, it had to happen.

The actually labor was easy.  I wish all labors were that easy.  Under six hours and out he came.  The hospital staff were wonderful and the Share Parents volunteers were a God-send.  We came home Thursday afternoon.

Jason and I decided not give this little baby a name.  He was really only the beginning of a baby.  A hope of things to come.  A hope taken away.  He will be cremated and buried at the Angel Statue in Baby Land of the Logan Cemetary.

So, this is our story.  And how are we?  We are doing well.  Our faith is strong.  I regret shutting everyone out, but honestly I couldn't do it.  I couldn't bear to see a soul.  It was my pain and mine alone and I wanted to deal with it on my own.  But I am doing better now.  I am still somewhat of an emotional wreck, but I am ready now.  Come hug me.  I can take it.

The miracle and the blessing of it all is that Jason and I are on the same page.  Our feelings are aligned and it has made it easy to talk through the loss of this little baby.  We both feel that our purpose here is to provide a home for God's children.  And if God didn't see fit for this little guy to make it, then we will cope.  Things are as they should be.  If, or when, the time comes for God to send us another baby to be stewards over, we will be ready and willing.  It's all part of a bigger plan and we feel His love and His reassurance.  Things are as they should be.

Even though the pain of it all is strong and I weep at the loss of a pregnancy and am still adjusting to not always protecting my tummy from the kicking feet of my other children and from not having to eat a snack just before bed so I can take my multi-vitamins and from feeling empty inside...I am grateful for the chance to appreciate the family that I do have.  Holding and hugging and being with my husband and five beautiful girls brings joy to my saddened soul.  Hearing them laugh and holding them as they cry soothes my aching heart.  We will be okay.  Things are as they should be.  Jason has stepped up his sympathy dial (I know, you didn't think it was possible) and has been an angel to fix us dinner and help in the care of our crew while my body heals from this loss--physically and mentally.  I am slow, but getting better.  I cry I lot, but I have a lot of happy moments too.  So, you may not believe me, but it's true...we will be okay.  We know that things are as a they should be....

 Baby boy actually officially weighed 3 ounces and was 6 inches long.

 He had perfect little hands and feet...

 Yet, he was so tiny and incomplete.

 This is my favorite picture--one I will always treasure of Jason holding that little tiny body.

God bless you all for your thoughts and prayers.  We love you!

Pick Up Sticks