tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80306141393954396032024-03-12T18:43:12.719-07:00The Wild Wild WestsIt's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.comBlogger381125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-77033536947356212020-02-25T18:25:00.000-08:002020-02-25T19:20:26.339-08:00Stream Of Consciousness<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I honestly didn’t realize until today why I have been the weepy mess that I have been these last few weeks. I thought I was tired. I thought well you have five kids and lots to remember. I am prone to anxiety. I worry to much which is definitely nothing new. I attributed the constant crying to all things other than the obvious, which after ten years one would think I would have down by now. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">It’s February. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">It is heart month and I don’t mean cupid.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"> It is <i>real </i>heart month. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">The hearts who are sick, broken, healing, or in heaven… We honor, celebrate, recognize and weep over all things Congenital Heart Defects. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I used to be able to post a lot more about it. I used to write a lot more about it, but I have found as time goes on that well… I don’t have a ton of time for it, but also I think I’ve been avoiding it as well… because after 10 years… words don't come to me like they used to…there is just no time line and I haven’t been able to sit down to write like I used to. Today though, I felt like I should write however un profound it may be. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I have for sure been quietest this year. I have said it before and I’ll say it again…</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Would our minds and hearts know if we had no calendars to remind us… </i></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Around the time of my Dads birthday and his death I find myself slowly shifting as well. I realized today that I do the same with Paxton dates. It’s a gradual, beautiful mess of emotion and today was the day it all came together for me I guess. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Time, dates and calendars can be beautiful things, but also terribly bittersweet things.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bEqwXBcjnKw/XlXVJg9-wVI/AAAAAAAAHBA/-_ncxnHGyIc6RsXbpGYpujNLb4--2YI6QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG-6826.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bEqwXBcjnKw/XlXVJg9-wVI/AAAAAAAAHBA/-_ncxnHGyIc6RsXbpGYpujNLb4--2YI6QCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/IMG-6826.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Paxton is doing so well and we are so grateful, but as I have scrolled through social media over these last few weeks. Read articles. Quotes. I was subtly reminded that he is not fixed even though he is doing fantastic as I write this. I read an article about PTSD and how we Mamas of heart babies don’t have PTSD, we have CTSD or Chronic Traumatic Stress Disorder. Talk about an Oprah aha moment! <b>Yes yes so much yes!</b> It hasn’t gone away. It won’t go away. Ever. The fear. The waiting for the bottom to fall out. Yes this may sound negative, but in truth, it is our reality. I think I have gotten to the point over the years that I don't realize the compilation of feelings from reading this article. Or seeing that photo. Or the reminders and "memories" that pop up until woah it hits me all at once and I realize that every day these last few weeks have just been adding up little by little until you just cry until there are no more tears. My life is a brace yourself for impact and I feel like if I didn’t always brace myself I wouldn’t be able to move forward. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">As a Mom, as Moms, living day to day with this always in the background it can be so very daunting. And no it isn’t constantly forefront as we go about living busy lives, but it is always there, like a screensaver waiting to pop up when it’s been to long. Not knowing how his story will play out can be paralyzing. I know it isn’t up to me. All I can do is be here to help him through whatever comes his way and pray I am enough to get him through whatever lies ahead. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jQxdmQJuydU/XlXVRYBbNNI/AAAAAAAAHBE/02svXprOlzwq9m4RV323lG1PIn4OP31pwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG-6827.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1296" data-original-width="1600" height="518" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jQxdmQJuydU/XlXVRYBbNNI/AAAAAAAAHBE/02svXprOlzwq9m4RV323lG1PIn4OP31pwCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/IMG-6827.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">February. Heart Month. I have been a quiet mess of emotional tears. I had an annual with my doctor yesterday and we cried together. Isn’t it incredible how in the midst of a life of worry that there are wonderful people who will sit in a white sterile room and cry right along side you. A Mama herself and my doctor since college, who said I can’t imagine and I am here and how you feel is OK. </span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>I think sometimes we Moms of special needs kids and well … all kids really…need to hear that the most.</i> </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">There are ZERO guarantees in life… of this I know and I find if I put guilt on myself to ‘cherish every single freaking moment’ when in fact it truly is ok to not be ok I only wind up worse. There is so much pressure to be fine, to suck it up, it is what it is.... but we ARE <i>allowed </i>to have bad days and cry and watch reality tv to get us through without feeling tremendous guilt. Because what I do know and what I have learned the absolute most over the last ten years is that there is no actually getting through those hard times without completely mucking knee deep through them. Waiting it out. Riding those waves…but also knowing, as cheesy as it sounds, that tomorrow is a brand new damn day. I always know that! So it’s ok to climb into that bed and cry that cry if you need to. Give thanks as well because there is always something to be thankful for, but by god it’s also ok to not be ok. I have most certainly also learned that even when you can feel so alone that people really do understand more than we realize because good lord aren’t we all fighting our own fights and we need each other.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"> <b><i>It. Is. OK. To be Terribly. Grateful. And. Still Struggling!</i></b></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">For anyone who may need to hear that tonight.</span><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Love and hugs always,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Jenn </span><br />
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span>
</div>
It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-8277398155454414252019-05-01T19:11:00.000-07:002019-05-01T19:53:55.253-07:00Thank YouI haven't written in so long it seems pointless now, but then I told myself perhaps that is one of the best things I could take up doing again. It has always been so cathartic for me.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
If you are reading this, we are most likely friends on social media and you probably saw that yesterday was a bad, bad day. If not here you go: </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jdv9Sj58lVM/XMpNMKiAtcI/AAAAAAAAGzo/Yn5UtjOZXqg_NdNMhAY_oMhB4_E1NAUvgCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG-7946.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="739" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jdv9Sj58lVM/XMpNMKiAtcI/AAAAAAAAGzo/Yn5UtjOZXqg_NdNMhAY_oMhB4_E1NAUvgCEwYBhgL/s640/IMG-7946.PNG" width="292" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I have always been an incredibly deep person. Even as a child the emotions were powerful with me. I feel deep. I overthink. I over analyze everything! I am a wicked people pleaser and so very, very sensitive. Being an ultra sensitive person can be exhausting. I've found it to have it's positives as I have grown and learned to handle my emotions a little better. A little, being the operative word there. But I also think being these things and never being able to shut your mind down can heighten everything. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Hence why I decided to write tonight. Yesterday I had a panic attack. I went back and forth after things had settled down about whether to post about it on social media. So many negative things are said about and on SM these days, but I also feel it can be a platform if we choose to make it that. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I just kept thinking how I didn't really know what was happening to me at the time. I knew I felt powerless. I couldn't breathe. I was shaking so uncontrollably. My heart was racing so fast I thought for sure I was going to die and I felt manic. Like I HAD to get to somewhere where someone could hopefully help me. Thankfully I had a friend there that took me right back and held me as I shook until the doctor and nurses came in. They gave me a sedative and instantly everything got even worse when they did that because it felt so weird to my body ( I guess this is common as the body begins to dump all the adrenaline), but my nurse was so amazing and kept reassuring me it would pass and even letting me know that she gets them too.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
All of this to say that when I had finally calmed down which definitely took some time, I laid in that hospital bed and thought of how many others might experience these and how many don't know what to do. I didn't want to go in. I was so very embarrassed that I seemingly couldn't control my own body. I just kept apologizing over and over to everyone around me because I felt so ridiculous. But they helped me and as I wrote in the post.... more people should know there is help. So I decided to share my experience however vulnerable that made me. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And the real purpose for this post after being MIA for so long, is that what came after I shared that is continuing to blow my mind. SO many of you commented and SO many have reached out to me privately sharing their stories as well. That these attacks are a very real thing. VERY debilitating and very scary. I had no idea and it most certainly reminded me that we never know what someone else is going through. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I am overwhelmed by how many people have reached out to be vulnerable themselves with me. To share their tips. Their love. Offering to drop everything and help. To take the kids. The flowers. The nuggz (oh the chick fil a nuggz). </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l3V7EfWlugw/XMpNQMk4CfI/AAAAAAAAGzs/IREVXG5eWQ8BFbjTMoP1UEJdSWIxXNK_wCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG-7972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l3V7EfWlugw/XMpNQMk4CfI/AAAAAAAAGzs/IREVXG5eWQ8BFbjTMoP1UEJdSWIxXNK_wCEwYBhgL/s400/IMG-7972.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
To be in such a helpless place to then hours later, be flooded with so much love and empathy was truly humbling. So thank you to each and every one of you. <b><i>You all showed me that putting yourself out there can sometimes be the BEST medicine there is.</i></b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"You are stronger than anxiety. Even if the anxiety wins sometimes." That's good stuff.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Love and hugs~</div>
<div>
Jenn</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-37388212044793528822018-12-04T19:05:00.002-08:002018-12-04T19:23:00.901-08:00on the eve of my daddy's birthday...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ypkn-qkE4Mk/V3P7EIDjzHI/AAAAAAAAGJI/duKObFPZyQwZL__SxJtQkgzeLwtUlCC4gCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_4604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ypkn-qkE4Mk/V3P7EIDjzHI/AAAAAAAAGJI/duKObFPZyQwZL__SxJtQkgzeLwtUlCC4gCPcBGAYYCw/s400/IMG_4604.JPG" width="225" /></a></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-d6a082c7-7fff-d660-2bfd-520520462eb4"></span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: xx-small; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s crazy how the heart just seems to know… I was driving home after dropping off the babies today and as the tears started flowing I wondered if there was no calendar to tell us.... would we know… would it hurt as bad… or are dates just a constant reminder.</span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-d6a082c7-7fff-d660-2bfd-520520462eb4">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-d6a082c7-7fff-d660-2bfd-520520462eb4"><span style="font-family: "arial"; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">It’s the eve of what would have been my Dad’s birthday. A day he SHOULD be here celebrating and all I can do is cry. Grief is so very hard to navigate. As the years pass I had this assumption that it would get easier, but for me it is very much the opposite. I miss him so much. The words ‘I miss him’ pale in comparison to the feeling in my heart right now. They sound so insignificant to what loss truly feels like. </span></span></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-d6a082c7-7fff-d660-2bfd-520520462eb4">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I had this moment of panic this morning that people are forgetting. He was loved by so, SO many people and I am smart enough to know that life goes on and I just wanted to scream from the mountain tops, please don’t forget him. I am guessing that is a stage of grief that everyone goes through. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I often wonder if I had been able to say good-bye...if it hadn’t been so sudden and I had the chance to tell him I love you one more time would<i> that </i>make this easier… that wasn’t up to me though, so I remind myself that he went fast and in the throes of doing what he loved and that was most certainly what he wanted. So if him getting what he needed and wanted in his final hours means me hurting a little more then I will endure this… for him. I will try not to be selfish and wish for more because in the end I know he knew. He knew how loved he was. He was a sappy ole thing and never let a day go by without making sure we all knew how much he loved us. And we were never to shy or embarrassed to reciprocate. We were and are PROUD. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The dates hit me hard. The calendars are a constant reminder year after year and some days I wish I could take away the calendar, but then there are days where for no rhyme or reason the tears just flow. He was such an intricate part of our lives; our patriarch. Suddenly not having that after having it for so long makes it really, <i>really</i> hard to find footing without him. Life does go on though and so I pull myself together to shuffle kids to school, then let it all out as soon as I get back in the car because that’s what he would have done. He would have held it together for us. He taught me when I was a wee one that it’s ok to cry, but then we have to get up and go splash cold water on our face and continue on. So I am going to go do that right now and I will leave this here… Man his dash was freaking incredible. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><img height="234" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/Ul1fAN1FKmtemiyoUdY6PmzbkmRUPbQxo6pThKJeDmQQo7wT6Ek6bB7E_F0JDmHA54eWyDDr4Bu-QXnInThu0YVrrxk0MG0lY79U9Dcb78o_sogMwXQ9o2GuZnoyoqWny4AdWh6u" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="352" /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Happy Almost Birthday Dad. Today I cry and tomorrow morning I will wake up, turn the faucet on extra cold and then we will celebrate YOU. Your dates and your ONE IN A MILLION DASH. I am SO proud to be a product of you. To be a Sommer. To have been raised by you. But most of all I am so thankful to have been loved by you. “MORESTER” forever and ever. Your Jennie Bean</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I had never heard this poem, but shortly after his passing he was inducted into the Coaches Hall Of Fame. We were all still reeling from his sudden death and a man got up there and read this poem. We were all speechless after listening because it resonated so deeply in that raw space we were all still in. So if you haven’t read it… please take a minute to do so. It is powerful stuff. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><img height="532" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/x2paV51nvTKQbeiNhDUVQR96uth0_rBVDVviL93ZbRqX-cOw_KMKAe5kY0wyzLOQD4y-M7GWHAYiA3zUA5hBXQcj7nAqlhhfOnQ51Q-AqNGXRqRIFnwfkjXJz3WvEPDU2cSBAe5Z" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="372" /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial"; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
</span>It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-35746626175801042782018-10-05T05:32:00.000-07:002018-10-05T05:32:48.621-07:0039 isn't so bad...Me??? Writing... I know. It's weird and it's been a LONG time. And I can't lie, it may very well be another year before I do it again. My life is <i>crazy </i>busy. 5 kids is definitely a FULL time job and leaves little room for writing. One day, I hope to get back at it more because lord knows I miss it, but for now.... my kiddos come first.<br />
<br />
Two days ago was my "birfday" and I turned 39!!! Like what even.... I can't seem to wrap my head around that. I'm still in my 30's y'all and I am definitely clinging hard ;) That said, I am not going to sit here and insta filter this life I live..... It is hard. HARD. And messy. And loud. And I screw up. I yell and then I regret it. But then I get hand made cards like this (without being asked I am told):<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_1GCt-mB_m8/W7bEWrM97kI/AAAAAAAAGp0/JSVZZB2WaIYFKSxrERiO1jB_bviDjZauQCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG-0013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_1GCt-mB_m8/W7bEWrM97kI/AAAAAAAAGp0/JSVZZB2WaIYFKSxrERiO1jB_bviDjZauQCEwYBhgL/s320/IMG-0013.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-spEZnacyYKg/W7bEWibtitI/AAAAAAAAGpg/njUIXuPPMqYogwvOhN4vnKKoJ9HOts6lQCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG-0014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-spEZnacyYKg/W7bEWibtitI/AAAAAAAAGpg/njUIXuPPMqYogwvOhN4vnKKoJ9HOts6lQCEwYBhgL/s320/IMG-0014.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g67TT_L3plM/W7bEWpKZD1I/AAAAAAAAGpk/GSPAdpLRJUwXqXB1duRLV-6A-cPD0LBZQCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG-0015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g67TT_L3plM/W7bEWpKZD1I/AAAAAAAAGpk/GSPAdpLRJUwXqXB1duRLV-6A-cPD0LBZQCEwYBhgL/s320/IMG-0015.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
and I'm reminded that they SEE me even when I think they don't. Mom life is often a thankless life for a long time...today though, I see that I am doing all right. These last 10 years have taken me to the brink. Had me begging for mercy, can't take another step. But, they have also shown me that I am stronger than I could have ever thought possible..<br />
<br />
I know that now.<br />
<br />
I have been pushed, pulled, stretched and knocked down. I have a lot to get back up for though so even when I LITERALLY don't think I can pull myself off the floor (and the floor and I are good friends btw) I somehow do. I attribute SO much of that to my Dad and the tenacity that he instilled in me. I also love my kids something fierce and no matter what, I will NEVER back down for them.<br />
<br />
My Pax was born just after I turned 30. I was a week away from giving birth to my VERY sick boy 9 years ago. I had no idea how much my life would change or just how strong I would become for HIM. His journey transformed me. I remember blowing out the candles on my cake just days away from his induction... my ONLY wish was just me begging ... BEGGING for my baby to please just live and be ok. That is all I so desperately wanted.... And here we are today.... he texted me this from school with happy birthday balloons flying on my phone screen.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2ANURfTANoo/W7bGCGxToDI/AAAAAAAAGqA/AbCqJAYJi9kLoBDn1KVwdyQEdo4Q0_ncwCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG-0018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="739" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2ANURfTANoo/W7bGCGxToDI/AAAAAAAAGqA/AbCqJAYJi9kLoBDn1KVwdyQEdo4Q0_ncwCEwYBhgL/s640/IMG-0018.JPG" width="292" /></a></div>
<br />
SO many texts, cards and messages, because that's how we do things now, from those closest to me making sure that I know I am loved. As a Mama to five kiddos who barely even has time to lets be honest... pee. They all meant so much to me.<br />
<br />
As my birthday came to a close I was so grateful for the I can't even begin to count text messages. The phone calls. The cards. The facebook messages that I waited until days end to check. My sister who made sure my day super special and to my besties who jumped on the band wagon.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fxEfR8amzsY/W7bEaGX48JI/AAAAAAAAGpw/AZL1TuNa6SYPuQAoqUito07O7PtTH47zQCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG-1491.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fxEfR8amzsY/W7bEaGX48JI/AAAAAAAAGpw/AZL1TuNa6SYPuQAoqUito07O7PtTH47zQCEwYBhgL/s640/IMG-1491.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
The "Cat to my Nat" for taking me to breakie that legit turned into lunch and for spoiling me with a giant bag of goodies. Easy friendship is rare and I am so thankful.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ThIH-b8vZrI/W7bEYAE_THI/AAAAAAAAGpo/sL1L4eKjyGMpV9PkDQtrfXQym2cFLO94QCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG-0019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1125" height="341" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ThIH-b8vZrI/W7bEYAE_THI/AAAAAAAAGpo/sL1L4eKjyGMpV9PkDQtrfXQym2cFLO94QCEwYBhgL/s400/IMG-0019.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I have found my voice this last decade. I have found (somewhat) of a backbone. I've learned to say no. I've learned it's ok to do what's best for me instead of pleasing others. I've also learned that whatever I plan will most certainly not happen... and that's ok too. I've learned to take the hits and power through. I've learned when I don't think I can pull my rock bottom, hovered over my bed, exhausted, crying self off of the floor... to do as my dad would tell me and "get my ass in the bathroom, splash your face with cold water and get it together".<br />
<br />
Most and MORE importantly:<br />
<br />
I've learned that this life, as hard as it can be at times, is ridiculously profound. It is bittersweet, hit you straight in your gut, takes your breath away BEAUTIFUL.<br />
We get ONE.... and while the road less traveled can often be a bit bumpier than taking easy street... I have never been more grateful for those that line my road. Cheering me on. Giving me grace. SO. MUCH. GRACE. They are my people. My rocks and I know that no matter what the years ahead bring.... I got this. I've done this. And I will continue to do this.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4KQVWQnMnY0/W7bEYQ0RAlI/AAAAAAAAGp0/rPM0fS7tZUELrCyGepW6zL1sMKjbpZ6KwCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG-0049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4KQVWQnMnY0/W7bEYQ0RAlI/AAAAAAAAGp0/rPM0fS7tZUELrCyGepW6zL1sMKjbpZ6KwCEwYBhgL/s640/IMG-0049.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Cheers to another year conquered. I'm pretty damn proud!<br />
<br />
Again, thank you to every person who reached out. It meant the world. Truly.<br />
<br />
Love and hugs~JennIt's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-83748047131754400122017-12-05T08:42:00.000-08:002017-12-05T08:42:22.065-08:00Birthdays In Heaven<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I haven’t written in awhile… Im at place in my life where words often escape me. Today is heavy. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He should be here.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I get older and the world gets more crazy there is so much clairty in the fragility of life. Losing my Dad so suddenly only drove that clarity home. I keep waiting for the sadness to pass. I keep waiting for the depth of missing him to ease. I keep waiting for the dreams to suddenly stop. None of it has and there is a part of me that is so very, very grateful for that. Somehow, those things have become a comfort to me as the years have passed. Like an old, tattered blankie. Sometimes we hide it and it isn't very pretty, but brings us comfort just the same.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-cd1f436d-275d-d696-4d3c-6aebe631192a" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I know “he would want me to be happy”. To “not be sad”. And yet just as my sister and I always discuss; had the roles been reversed he would be exactly where I am today. Sad and missing us. Is there more happy than sad? Of course. I have a lot to live for. I am an example to my children and while I have not navigated this unflawed, I have shown them that even when we stumble…. to always get back up. Dad would be proud of that. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gu1IhuW3Aso/WibAKbIcjXI/AAAAAAAAGaw/e1QeySzEBRIzpNEGvqQVKIAo6zmYgSK3wCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG-4602.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gu1IhuW3Aso/WibAKbIcjXI/AAAAAAAAGaw/e1QeySzEBRIzpNEGvqQVKIAo6zmYgSK3wCEwYBhgL/s640/IMG-4602.PNG" width="360" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">His pictures are all over my house. His jacket has hung on the back of the door since the day I received it. It even still has the grease stain from what I’m guessing were wings on it. That grease stain… it’s so silly but it reminds me that he was here and very much alive. Sometimes I just walk up to it, put my face in it and cry. There have been to many times to count that I have needed him so desperately these last couple of years, especially these last two months, and I have come up empty. Even at 38 years old he was that place of solace for me. No judgement. Only love, even at my worst. That is something that is hard to replace and perhaps only comes in the form of parental love. Forever and ever that is gone for me and as I navigate raising five children, being an incredibly imperfect human being and learning to live with a broken heart I find myself mourning that place of comfort more than ever. I hide it a lot because I feel like by now I should be on the other side of such thick grief. It should have eased. I should have learned to live without him by now….but it hasn’t and I haven’t. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In everything I do, I find myself innately finding a way to include him. It has become second nature to me. My heart is so adamant about remembering him in the deepest form that it just happens and often I don't even realize it until looking back. Whether it be his iconic color orange, a quote, a picture, a shirt, a toast, a song or a letter. Wherever I go, there he is and those little itty bitty ways my mind and heart have way of including him only confirm that. A reminder that he was such an intricate part of me that even years after his passing he is included in everything I do without even thinking about it. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sommer continues to be my beacon of hope every day. She is the greatest gift he ever left behind and that baby has truly gotten me through some of my darkest hours. Life is simply stunning like that. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don’t know when or if it won’t hurt. I just keep hanging on and look for the signs I so desperately looked for just after losing him. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the rays above his granddaughters head...</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qfxbtFW8ARg/WibAYs10mkI/AAAAAAAAGao/pe6GU-SzEDsYNqezR5WC-yksK8nDidGHACEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG-8944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qfxbtFW8ARg/WibAYs10mkI/AAAAAAAAGao/pe6GU-SzEDsYNqezR5WC-yksK8nDidGHACEwYBhgL/s640/IMG-8944.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XrRy0vdzZvc/WibAQSaotMI/AAAAAAAAGag/vsEHlTu0LXIJ3EGNZtrK2ib7q_r7ukUBQCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG-6271.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XrRy0vdzZvc/WibAQSaotMI/AAAAAAAAGag/vsEHlTu0LXIJ3EGNZtrK2ib7q_r7ukUBQCEwYBhgL/s640/IMG-6271.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the cardinal that has a nest right outside our front door...</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X7pSW-kfCOE/WibGgvsxzYI/AAAAAAAAGbQ/Za-j118sqU80gvBJ5rwou32BL3e05bIeACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG-9081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="860" data-original-width="1123" height="490" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X7pSW-kfCOE/WibGgvsxzYI/AAAAAAAAGbQ/Za-j118sqU80gvBJ5rwou32BL3e05bIeACLcBGAs/s640/IMG-9081.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the song that comes on somehow at just the perfect time... </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the boys when they bring home artwork with DDD on it, pick out orange </span><span style="font-size: 14.666666984558105px; white-space: pre-wrap;">anything</span><span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> "for Papaw" or even make the cars in their games just for him.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L2Bityg4l3w/WibAToJHNdI/AAAAAAAAGak/rWECHuZwAFkykht4MbJMDKU1gzZjo_l2gCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG-7357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="847" data-original-width="1600" height="337" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L2Bityg4l3w/WibAToJHNdI/AAAAAAAAGak/rWECHuZwAFkykht4MbJMDKU1gzZjo_l2gCEwYBhgL/s640/IMG-7357.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">And especially and mostly in the wee hours when he emerges in my dreams as clear as the day is long. I cling to them in the hopes that one day I will see him again… </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">I allow the tears to come when they won’t let go...especially today.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">but when they ease and they always do….</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">I celebrate. I remember. I am proud. I am #SOMMERstrong. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P6qLicqIOxc/WibANMSb99I/AAAAAAAAGa4/i6krmykF2j0uPxUcODi9vaYaJ7lXQepswCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG-5521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P6qLicqIOxc/WibANMSb99I/AAAAAAAAGa4/i6krmykF2j0uPxUcODi9vaYaJ7lXQepswCEwYBhgL/s640/IMG-5521.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Happy Birthday Dad! I never thought I would be living life without you so soon, but you are with me every breathe I take. Thank you for being the most imperfectly perfect Daddy there ever was and for laying the foundation for me to be the same as a Mommy. I would be nothing to them today were it not for you. I miss you. Somehow more and more as time goes on but I “keep hitting the curve balls” for you. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">MORESTER always~jennie bean</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kK21VwvAw0Y/WibAnnddONI/AAAAAAAAGas/lMPtucC2_V0Q0BylDhZErmq-S8ZXdXH7wCEwYBhgL/s1600/KGPhotography%2B%257BWildWestFamily2017%257D-44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kK21VwvAw0Y/WibAnnddONI/AAAAAAAAGas/lMPtucC2_V0Q0BylDhZErmq-S8ZXdXH7wCEwYBhgL/s640/KGPhotography%2B%257BWildWestFamily2017%257D-44.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /><br />
PS~ thank you to each person who has reached out only just this morning knowing how hard this day is for me. it is everything to me. truly.<br />
<br />
"I hope everyone has a great day. I know today might be hard for all of us but just remember we have each other. You know I'm always just a text/phone call away. Love you all. Happy Birthday Dad. I love you and miss you so much" ~ Adam Sommer<br />
<br />
"Happy Birthday to Dad in heaven.... Thinking of you today. xoxo" ~KB<br />
<br />
"I know today is a tough day for you. Thinking of you. I wish I could have had the pleasure of meeting the man that built you. xoxo" ~ SL<br />
<br />
"I'm thinking of you and loving you always"~ JB<br />
<br />
" Happy Birthday Coach!" Thinking of you my friend. You are such an inspiration, always remember that."~BM<br />
<br />
Even when I feel alone, I am not. Thank you sweet friends.It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-80235540111456665112017-05-03T07:46:00.000-07:002017-05-03T08:03:18.388-07:002 years #SOMMERstrong<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I have been sitting at this computer for awhile pondering how to get all of these thoughts that constantly swarm around in my head out. My life is so very busy with five kids and my poor brain even busier trying to make sure they all stay alive. There is one thing though, that no matter how consumed I get, never ceases. Dad. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tIEQPhFKmRY/WQjzqVkNsaI/AAAAAAAAGSE/qBp3h8WzansuFA_KFdTrVx5z83z75XtmwCEw/s1600/206525_4598667918635_1388864565_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tIEQPhFKmRY/WQjzqVkNsaI/AAAAAAAAGSE/qBp3h8WzansuFA_KFdTrVx5z83z75XtmwCEw/s640/206525_4598667918635_1388864565_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">He is always just below the surface. Swirling in the back of my mind. His voice not even a little bit faded. His face clearer than it has ever been. The dreams are constant day in and day out, even two years later. Some are good. Some are far to intense. They are ALL hauntingly beautiful. I adore seeing his face with such a vividness. I crave his voice telling me to hit the curve balls and I like to imagine that is the only way he knows how to get to me now. In my dreams. Where my mind continues to swirl just as intensely as when I am awake. I have been bracing myself for THIS day for weeks now. The tears have ebbed and flowed in anticipation of reliving the most devastating month of my life. I have spent countless hours in counseling trying to work through the heartache of losing the man who is the very reason I am alive today. He didn’t have to be so incredible at 21 and take on raising his daughter alone, but he did. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3mptsQGjOHI/WQjzw84XqcI/AAAAAAAAGS8/ZFnQhNuf920x4I4rEWOI-gWd8dyvu-EQACEw/s1600/395397_2723336436520_1177504015_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3mptsQGjOHI/WQjzw84XqcI/AAAAAAAAGS8/ZFnQhNuf920x4I4rEWOI-gWd8dyvu-EQACEw/s640/395397_2723336436520_1177504015_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">He was all I had ever known for so long and while Paxtons illness has blacked out a lot of my memory, the memories of my younger years are crystal clear. So clear that I can remember learning to tie my shoe under my grandmas kitchen table with Dad cheering over me. That never ceased. He was always my biggest fan; even when the “Jennie shuffle” came in dead last. “Bean if we turn this race around you would WIN! Now SHIFT!” As long as I live I will remember his sheer joy at seeing me run like a goddamn snail. I can remember Dad having to buy me my own water bed (yes... you read that right, ‘waterbed’ lol :) because I refused to leave his and the poor man probably wanted some hottie in there instead. So a queen waterbed I got...except like Talon is to me now... I still always made my way back to the safest, most non judgemental, loving place I have ever known; wherever my Dad was. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Lord have mercy could I make bad life choices and he wouldn’t even bat an eye. His love for me had no limits. Never faltered. Even in his busiest years. If I called, he was there. Love like that can never be replaced and I am beginning to realize that healing from losing a love like that may never happen. Am I scarring over a bit? Yes. But am I still raw as hell 730 days later? Oh dear God, yes. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I haven’t really gone into to much verbal detail about what it’s like to see your life force laying in a casket gone. However, last week my counselor urged me to talk about it. She said she wanted to know...that it mattered to her. Hearing someone say it mattered opened up the gates. So, after months and months of two days a week with her (and someone I could be besties with were we to meet in a different situation) I knew she meant it. So I sat on that couch and picked at her blanket while I ripped that scab off. I choked out detail after detail about how today and the days after played out two years ago. The tears were relentless. The tissues piling up beside me. There is nothing in this life; just like walking in to see your four day old on a ventilator with his chest cup open or peeking around the corner at a funeral home and seeing your 58 year old Dad lying in a casket, that can fully prepare you for how your world will instantly crumble. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tASB-P2Pugw/WQjz3OoDDDI/AAAAAAAAGSM/8Lomq2HZNJskWjh2eOcZrq3cpnY2vsr0ACEw/s1600/922910_10200635789591081_1876844231_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tASB-P2Pugw/WQjz3OoDDDI/AAAAAAAAGSM/8Lomq2HZNJskWjh2eOcZrq3cpnY2vsr0ACEw/s640/922910_10200635789591081_1876844231_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Talking about it and acknowledging those devastating memories somehow eased me. I left that day utterly drained and yet feeling lighter. Somehow, to open up and put those words out into the universe became a balm to my raw wounds and I knew I would be ok when today came. A gift I am so grateful for. Thank you A. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">**********</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">He was an organ donor. Of course he was right. What didn’t my Dad do to help others.... when we saw him for the first time since he passed away, we instantly noticed that his closed eyes were extremely swollen. I asked the funeral director why and he told us his eyes were donated to someone. Oh my heart. Those baby blues are helping someone see again. If only we could have passed along that smile. But then again, I think he did... and it walks around in a 24 pound little girl who will carry on his legacy all the days of her life and perhaps her Mama too. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wTY1nXPp3Ao/WQnr91gwSyI/AAAAAAAAGTs/g3KQTHlX7-AiQ1SwbMswARFGPQvxJEsuwCLcB/s1600/IMG_0011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="522" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wTY1nXPp3Ao/WQnr91gwSyI/AAAAAAAAGTs/g3KQTHlX7-AiQ1SwbMswARFGPQvxJEsuwCLcB/s640/IMG_0011.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7ySMm6M4oAY/WQnsVKK2SNI/AAAAAAAAGTw/NE_HLoLIzoQxC-tZCBLLZpJkij6uyhIjgCLcB/s1600/IMG_0379.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7ySMm6M4oAY/WQnsVKK2SNI/AAAAAAAAGTw/NE_HLoLIzoQxC-tZCBLLZpJkij6uyhIjgCLcB/s640/IMG_0379.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">So while the tears come when I expect and also least expect them; this morning we laughed. A LOT. I got my butt out of bed at 4 a.m. to head to the field where I spent four years of my life running and training. Oh how those stadium lights as I turned the corner brought back all the memories of my untethered, teenage life.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bHE3WpU0y7s/WQj0LZJIx4I/AAAAAAAAGSQ/83keCL5Lv6IZPbWEGbDWZhumMy1WwqGIQCEw/s1600/IMG_1093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bHE3WpU0y7s/WQj0LZJIx4I/AAAAAAAAGSQ/83keCL5Lv6IZPbWEGbDWZhumMy1WwqGIQCEw/s640/IMG_1093.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Never though, without my Daddy just beside me yelling to “shift!”, or ahead of me coming back to bring me through the finish line and most of the time behind me screaming “HOLD ME OFF OR WE DO IT AGAIN!” How many of you readers have heard that out of Dads mouth?? Oh how he had a way of motivating us didn’t he?!</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">********</span></div>
<style type="text/css">
p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke: #000000}
p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px Helvetica; -webkit-text-stroke: #000000; min-height: 16.0px}
span.s1 {font-kerning: none}
</style>
<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">My Dads people have continued to celebrate, honor and love him and us through this journey. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rmQ2dzcwvLk/WQj0aiR0xOI/AAAAAAAAGSk/eDcuYz0x-qoZwFYgLu90Lni249Zvdmr2wCEw/s1600/IMG_1101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rmQ2dzcwvLk/WQj0aiR0xOI/AAAAAAAAGSk/eDcuYz0x-qoZwFYgLu90Lni249Zvdmr2wCEw/s400/IMG_1101.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">This morning before the sun even thought about rising. As the skies lit up with lightening, thunder rumbling and sirens going off with no rain (definitely Dad ;) parents and runners, past and present ignored the alarms and gathered around us ‘Sommers’ like hugging an old friend.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8A_gQXxfA3w/WQj0c2iKXoI/AAAAAAAAGSo/sw0Wxmx-uMkmGlLJ5lIerlRleYJxj4vjQCEw/s1600/IMG_1113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8A_gQXxfA3w/WQj0c2iKXoI/AAAAAAAAGSo/sw0Wxmx-uMkmGlLJ5lIerlRleYJxj4vjQCEw/s400/IMG_1113.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">They made us laugh with dirty jokes and memories of the big and certainly LOUD goof that my Dad was. How someone can be soooo perverted, so funny, so giving and yet so tough and SO respected is a balance very few can achieve! There isn’t a day that goes by that I am not BEYOND proud to be a Sommer. I would scream it from the mountain tops if I could because, in the words of J. Cole, "damn they don’t make em' like you no more."</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8HQtAQu9mTI/WQj0LfbqeGI/AAAAAAAAGS8/cZnU20oKxD8Hkxui2Qjk1JhPyiGUREi5QCEw/s1600/IMG_1097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8HQtAQu9mTI/WQj0LfbqeGI/AAAAAAAAGS8/cZnU20oKxD8Hkxui2Qjk1JhPyiGUREi5QCEw/s640/IMG_1097.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uwMoZbjAcK4/WQj0abK-IWI/AAAAAAAAGTE/yhsWQ3lgkqYHutQKubLIjAuCbzC8kbG-QCEw/s1600/IMG_1104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uwMoZbjAcK4/WQj0abK-IWI/AAAAAAAAGTE/yhsWQ3lgkqYHutQKubLIjAuCbzC8kbG-QCEw/s640/IMG_1104.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Xk5tAYBa5lA/WQj0dAEnlbI/AAAAAAAAGS8/1MpoycIzheoEkQ9dPzRyoZYCTlasNMwMACEw/s1600/IMG_1111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Xk5tAYBa5lA/WQj0dAEnlbI/AAAAAAAAGS8/1MpoycIzheoEkQ9dPzRyoZYCTlasNMwMACEw/s640/IMG_1111.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QSqgAQxWVvQ/WQj0Lhtkp2I/AAAAAAAAGS8/hVGiUvHnNaEER8CcUjxmvFOLDzczj5cpwCEw/s1600/IMG_1098.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QSqgAQxWVvQ/WQj0Lhtkp2I/AAAAAAAAGS8/hVGiUvHnNaEER8CcUjxmvFOLDzczj5cpwCEw/s640/IMG_1098.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
************</div>
<div class="p1">
And as the sun began to set on this bittersweet day I loaded up my babies and we all headed to Estero High school to run Dads favorite loop with my Sister, my nephew and brother in law. I actually wouldn't call it running, more like trying not to pass out in true "Jennie shuffle" form, but we did it. For him. </div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sa_EDt4IB7g/WQnlUuKGTnI/AAAAAAAAGTc/RLN_2lEvd4EBUW9tm7bQ7nOr3ygrdYxCQCEw/s1600/IMG_1135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sa_EDt4IB7g/WQnlUuKGTnI/AAAAAAAAGTc/RLN_2lEvd4EBUW9tm7bQ7nOr3ygrdYxCQCEw/s640/IMG_1135.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">And as I let lyrics from all of our favorite songs power me through, I thought back to all of the years I ran with him there having no idea what my future would hold at that time. I looked down through sweat filled eyes at my angel in her stroller peaceful as ever running with her Mama. It's like she knew, but then again, it's in her blood.</span></div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/--YOsBdtyL7o/WQnlNlECbXI/AAAAAAAAGTc/y4mBh7fTe64hm4WEaO4Np1htrMhhocSaQCEw/s1600/IMG_1152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/--YOsBdtyL7o/WQnlNlECbXI/AAAAAAAAGTc/y4mBh7fTe64hm4WEaO4Np1htrMhhocSaQCEw/s640/IMG_1152.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">When we finished we wrote our notes to heaven on orange balloons and glued our eyes to the sky smiling at the memories of him and the legacy he created right there on that track. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RQ3y3b9uR2o/WQnk9JFBsrI/AAAAAAAAGTc/YF6Zo_sNBLs_nnGYmG416JyvaQ-bkJ4tQCEw/s1600/IMG_1259.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RQ3y3b9uR2o/WQnk9JFBsrI/AAAAAAAAGTc/YF6Zo_sNBLs_nnGYmG416JyvaQ-bkJ4tQCEw/s640/IMG_1259.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="p1">
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I miss and love you MORESTER than any “morester” we have ever said to each other Dad. Not a day goes by that you aren’t forefront in my heart and no matter how many years pass I will always celebrate you, your legacy and the love you gave me and SO many others. </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ya5avBM5gDw/WQj0dlH73pI/AAAAAAAAGSw/GSA9oaLgCLEyIfIppEZ5QEnZMPoDxSYXACEw/s1600/IMG_1122.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ya5avBM5gDw/WQj0dlH73pI/AAAAAAAAGSw/GSA9oaLgCLEyIfIppEZ5QEnZMPoDxSYXACEw/s640/IMG_1122.PNG" width="360" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
That one Sommer that changed me.... </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-39501395352817201032017-04-04T18:12:00.001-07:002017-04-04T18:16:04.716-07:00A long time coming....stream of consciousness<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">In light of my recent, very hard to post... post, and all of the outpouring that came with it, I thought I should have a "stream of consciousness" post after almost another year of neglecting what I love to do the most; write.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I prepped this stupid...." BEFORE" pic hours before I actually hit the post button.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xg2yG3OYLXs/WOQ_NfOz5vI/AAAAAAAAGQ4/_2KJkMC5GmMUU23H4L-ltLisdBeS-GHrQCEw/s1600/IMG_2083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xg2yG3OYLXs/WOQ_NfOz5vI/AAAAAAAAGQ4/_2KJkMC5GmMUU23H4L-ltLisdBeS-GHrQCEw/s400/IMG_2083.JPG" width="383" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I had asked my trainer Brad if I HAD to do a before picture and he said I didnt have to do anything I didnt want to, but his look said sooo much more. I sat with that for awhile as minutes turned to hours. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Was I ready to put myself out there on 'SOCIAL MEDIA' like that.... </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I was in truth; terrified. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">For those of you who knew my Dad, the Jenn today would be unacceptable to him. However; I do believe if the roles were reversed and he lost me, my sister or my brother that Dad wouldn't have had a leg to stand on. The suddenness of his loss rocked me to my core. And yet, I know it would have done the same to him. That loss is still just as raw today. Perhaps that is what happens when you have no warning and yet no warning is just how he wanted it to go down. Dad and I had a bond right out of the gate, like no other. I dream of him easily 3 times a week and it is vivid, raw and SO seemingly real. In the months past, I have found those dreams haunting. Today, I find them motivating. After nearly two years of suffocating grief, missing the first love I have ever known, I am choosing life. For my kids, for my family and for ME. I know Dad is smiling that giant smile we both share from wherever he is, SO proud that I have pulled myself out of this quicksand.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;">********</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I spent last night watching well over 60 comments come through my phone after posting what I consider a "fat pic" of myself and yet.... not one comment came through that didn't bring me happy, bittersweet tears. The truth is, I cried myself to sleep last night missing my Dad so deeply, and yet all the same, feeling wrapped in love and motivation. Overweight or not. I wasn't alone. We are all on our own journeys.... and that was SO comforting.</span><br />
<br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I also found myself realizing with a clarity that I haven't had in a looong time that being true to where we are in this very moment of life has the power to move mountains. I stood in front of that camera at my most vulnerable and put it out there for the world to see. Yet, the only thing in return was a stark reminder that there is power in numbers. That if we all just stick together we can change the world. Make it better for each other and our babies. Not one of us is perfect. We all have our demons and our stories, but being true to what brought us to this point has the power to transform us all.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">There is a sign at Burn Boot Camp that says: Real Women Lift Each Other Up Not Tear Each Other Down...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;" /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Every day that I step foot in that gym, self conscious as ever, with beautifully fit bodies surrounding me; I remind myself that they too; started somewhere. Then I look at the other Moms still trying to find their footing outside of being just "Mom" and know I am not alone. I watch as full time working Moms and wives rush in last minute to change just before class starts and again, I am reminded that we are ALL taking it one day at a time. One workout at a time. One step at a time. Sure, our stories help make us who we are, make us stronger if we allow them, but they do not define us!!! The harder the fall, the greater the fight. Thank you to each and EVERY friend who commented last night. Each and every one of you will never know how much it meant to me. Truly! Many I know well, some I don't know at all and lots whom I haven't heard from in awhile. As crazy and daunting as this world can seem these days; there is still a community out there unwilling to let this shy, hermit of a girl go and for that I am forever grateful!! #SOMMERstrong #burnbootcampnaples</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Love and hugs</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">~j</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r61IU3a0MiI/WOQ_K-bBLRI/AAAAAAAAGRA/4XpAN8SpRTUZXiX7QLS2GNvnoliZK7_-gCEw/s1600/IMG_1618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r61IU3a0MiI/WOQ_K-bBLRI/AAAAAAAAGRA/4XpAN8SpRTUZXiX7QLS2GNvnoliZK7_-gCEw/s400/IMG_1618.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
For the record, these babies above are worth it ALL!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
PS~ see you in 30 days burn boot camp ladies and trainers! Couldn't do it without you. 😙</div>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-73036732889750018742016-06-29T10:37:00.003-07:002016-06-29T10:37:30.413-07:00Sommer Elizabeths Birth Story 7 Months In The Making...<br />
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">It's been over a year since I have last written. My how life has been so very heavy and utterly breathtaking in the same breath. I have tried to write since </span><span class="s2"><a href="http://thebestofthewests.blogspot.com/2015/05/a-stream-of-consciousness-on-losing-my.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;"><b>this</b></span></a></span><span class="s1"><span style="color: orange;"> </span>post and words have failed me time and again.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Today I will move forward.</span><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zaSsNYho9Z0/V3P6Zy5NsJI/AAAAAAAAGJE/3XXh7SL9hkAEwTg191XFFl3i_pnCUOR4gCKgB/s1600/IMG_3456.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zaSsNYho9Z0/V3P6Zy5NsJI/AAAAAAAAGJE/3XXh7SL9hkAEwTg191XFFl3i_pnCUOR4gCKgB/s640/IMG_3456.PNG" width="360" /></a></div>
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
Today my therapy begins again. My heart will open back up and do what it loves to do the most. Write.</div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Today I will share with you my daughter, yes </span><span class="s3"><span style="color: #ea9999;"><b>DAUGHTERS</b></span></span><span class="s1">, birth story. She deserves that. <i>He </i>deserves that because there is no doubt Dad went to the throne and helped make this happen. </span><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jjbl8_aErsc/V3P6bQwWrRI/AAAAAAAAGJE/sSU64at_mX4vTXuFNRU4Hqe14i31TBYYgCKgB/s1600/IMG_6214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jjbl8_aErsc/V3P6bQwWrRI/AAAAAAAAGJE/sSU64at_mX4vTXuFNRU4Hqe14i31TBYYgCKgB/s400/IMG_6214.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(kelly goggin photography)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="p2" style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
I knew that I was pregnant just mere weeks before losing my Dad. Because I had lost a second trimester baby in the past, we decided not to tell anyone until we got a little further along. To say we were shocked at this ‘suprise’ is putting it mildly. This baby would make five for us and holy hell five is a lot. Some of us were happier than others, not naming any names David ;).<span class="s1"></span></div>
</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--zzBr3DuvLY/V3P7DpjvK2I/AAAAAAAAGIk/dbF1vmUHRMM2ma26-qp4dyQRwbARpLXEgCKgB/s1600/IMG_2398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--zzBr3DuvLY/V3P7DpjvK2I/AAAAAAAAGIk/dbF1vmUHRMM2ma26-qp4dyQRwbARpLXEgCKgB/s400/IMG_2398.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="p1">
As I pushed through the first trimester suffering from pretty intense migraines, I would come to find out laying in a hospital bed that my Dad, the man who raised me as a single Dad for years, had died suddenly of a heart attack at the age of 58. My world suddenly crumbled as I shared in my last post well over 365 days ago. Suddenly I didn’t know up from down. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. My family and I lived in a haze for weeks on end. We did everything a loved one is supposed to do when someone dies. We went to the funeral home. Planned everything just so (with the help of hundreds of Dads people). We saw him lying in a casket. Gone. Forever. We kissed him. We talked to him. Laughed over him and loved the shit out of him in those final moments. Stood in the auditorium, shook hands, hugged and thanked over 1000 people who came to say their good byes. Listened as he got a flyover from the Lee County Sheriffs department and watched as those thousands of people formed an aisle for his casket to be carried through and away forever. This would also be the day standing in the middle of Estero High Schools courtyard; my Daddy’s second home, when we decided beyond the shadow of a doubt that should this baby be a girl (we never find out gender) that she would be named Sommer. </div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7GzI5U2aZ_M/V3QGN6vbvtI/AAAAAAAAGJw/EX_H5LO-y5EIZIuDFgUbdFaEpG8pOYf4gCKgB/s1600/FullSizeRender%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="395" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7GzI5U2aZ_M/V3QGN6vbvtI/AAAAAAAAGJw/EX_H5LO-y5EIZIuDFgUbdFaEpG8pOYf4gCKgB/s400/FullSizeRender%2B%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
Today, I cannot really say how I got through that. The truth is, and I feel guilty saying this, but he was mine first. Just the two of us growing up together. Him as a single Dad and me a wee little one.</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OF5NwOHBzbI/V3P6_z5cBaI/AAAAAAAAGJI/K9-Qd6-VZVskiTu710d-bbf36VXn_KVcQCKgB/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OF5NwOHBzbI/V3P6_z5cBaI/AAAAAAAAGJI/K9-Qd6-VZVskiTu710d-bbf36VXn_KVcQCKgB/s400/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="297" /></a></div>
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
I clung to that gift in those days and weeks after his passing. I still do. Perhaps that got me through or perhaps the baby in belly, who was so unexpected, was my lifeline to well... life. I had to continue on for the baby. For my other babies too, but without one in my belly I didn’t have to eat or take care of myself. </div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p2">
Fast forward 7 long months of highs and the lowest of lows:<span class="s1"></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">~Sommer Elizabeth West~ November 16, 2015</span></span><br />
<span class="s1"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="s1"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JcDvyC8ywEo/V3P6Z8oa-cI/AAAAAAAAGJE/zUyq6MfXfkEa4RlQtO216NqlqVHII8MhACKgB/s1600/IMG_4061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JcDvyC8ywEo/V3P6Z8oa-cI/AAAAAAAAGJE/zUyq6MfXfkEa4RlQtO216NqlqVHII8MhACKgB/s400/IMG_4061.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(just before leaving for induction)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="s1"><span style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="p2" style="text-align: center;">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">We checked into the hospital on a Sunday night for induction due to uncontrollable high blood pressure. I had my blanket made of all of Dads shirts tucked tightly under my arm. I remember stopping just outside the hospital around 6 pm. I looked up to the sky, closed my eyes and just inhaled as fully and completely as I could. I just knew I would never be the same the next time I walked out of that place. If I close my eyes I can take myself back to that exact moment. I wanted to suspend time. I wanted to remember that feeling of anticipation, gratefulness and joy after such heartache for all of eternity.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Every moment of those 3 days is so crystal clear to me, even now. We anxiously waited in the waiting room for them to call us back. People would walk by, see the bags, my big belly and know what was to come. I was so proud. So excited. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Once I was all set up they started the slow process of induction. The room was full of Grammys and Aunts so eager to meet this baby, however it was going to be a long night so they got hotel rooms nearby. I slept wonderfully and woke up around 5 when they started my pitocin. Today was the day. I couldn’t even contain myself. </span><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ITJ7JVT58zw/V3P6ZzO394I/AAAAAAAAGJE/GgafmCYedvcIYbOJKQjETG92KcRelYWhQCKgB/s1600/IMG_4063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ITJ7JVT58zw/V3P6ZzO394I/AAAAAAAAGJE/GgafmCYedvcIYbOJKQjETG92KcRelYWhQCKgB/s400/IMG_4063.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
I had decided after Dad died that I was going to try to have this baby with no epidural. This was going to be my last baby forever and ever and something in me really wanted to experience the entire process. Besides, <i> nothing </i>could hurt as badly as May 2, 2015. I had mentioned it to my husband, but he wasn't to keen on the idea, so I just tucked the goal away in my heart, never losing sight of it. Family arrived around 9 and we were all just so ecstatic. Because I didn’t have an epidural for the first time ever I was able to wear my own clothes, get up to walk around and even use the birthing ball which was awesome. Those were never options before due to an epidural and having to stay in bed. I remember facebook blowing up the entire day with everyone wanting to know updates. We had SO many people pulling for us on this day. Dads people. My people. Daves people. SO MUCH LOVE for a baby not even born yet.<br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tr-w3lnsnOU/V3P6bXYEg0I/AAAAAAAAGJE/uwK5XbohA7Y0zgomumyDLmF-yLf-abuXACKgB/s1600/IMG_6215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tr-w3lnsnOU/V3P6bXYEg0I/AAAAAAAAGJE/uwK5XbohA7Y0zgomumyDLmF-yLf-abuXACKgB/s400/IMG_6215.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">I don’t know if it’s because I get migraines or what, but labor was totally fine. I never faltered. I don’t say that to imply that I am so great, but it really was so easy for me. I breathed through them and kept my eye on the prize. My nurses were INCREDIBLE. The best EVER! They kept asking if I wanted anything and I kept saying I am ok. Even when she looked at me puzzled and said that I should really be hurting from the contractions and was I sure I didn't want anything, I truly was fine. I am guessing I wasn't alone in this fight through labor.....</span><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ypkn-qkE4Mk/V3P7EIDjzHI/AAAAAAAAGIs/1Or5atdWuPs1EK4COULDvb42jVtt2Lu1wCKgB/s1600/IMG_4604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ypkn-qkE4Mk/V3P7EIDjzHI/AAAAAAAAGIs/1Or5atdWuPs1EK4COULDvb42jVtt2Lu1wCKgB/s640/IMG_4604.JPG" width="360" /></a></div>
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Everyone there knew of our story. Of Dads story. They all asked about his blanket and then we heard about the bets going at the nurses station as to whether this was a boy or a girl. This baby though was going to take its sweet time. I labored from 5 in the morning throughout the day until finally around 6:30 my OB came in to break my water. I remember him saying just before “if you want an epidural you need to get it now”. I just knew I could do it, but fear was setting in. My family, bless their hearts, all just sort of sat there to scared to influence me. So I looked to my nurse who had been with me through Talons birth too and asked what I should do. She was an old soul and she looked at me and said “look how far you have come! look how wonderful you have done all day long laboring!” and so, thanks to her empowering me, the decision was made. My OB did not know I had chosen not to have an epi as he had left right after he did his business. In years past, once my water breaks it’s game over and I just knew this too was going to be quick. Naturally a West baby decides shift change is a good time to make an entrance. I knew within minutes that it was time. I told my nurse who was about to change over and she said to the new nurse “ he just broke her, she isn’t ready yet.” </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Oh’ but I was. I began to panic and retreat inside myself because I knew this was it. NO ONE could help me now. <b><i>I </i></b>had to do this. Alone. Through whatever pain it brought me. I kept saying out loud, the baby is coming.! It’s coming! As I was crying out and the nurse saw me starting to push, she scrambled to call for back up and the room became a whirlwind of people. They kept telling me to breathe. To hold on. BUT if you have ever had a baby with no epidural then you can understand there is NO stopping or holding on. I vividly remember thinking you can sit here with this utterly overwhelming force or you can push and get it over with. And so I did. I looked into my nurse Kellys eyes. They literally saved me as the sheer force of giving birth took over my entire being. She didn’t break contact once and her eyes seared into mine as if siphoning me the power to do this. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">The utter power that filled my body as I gave birth is like nothing I have or ever will experience again. I had zero control over myself. My body knew what to do and it was going to do it come hell or high water. It took maybe 3 pushes and <span style="color: #ea9999;"><b><i>SHE</i></b></span> was out. Born at 7:11 pm on November 16th, 2015 weighing 7 pounds 14 ounces and 19 inches long. </span><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NkBHmpt4i-I/V3P6aZUF4vI/AAAAAAAAGJE/lR8NpD1u6OwSGYp4X87BH6CufDIUp3n6ACKgB/s1600/IMG_4071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NkBHmpt4i-I/V3P6aZUF4vI/AAAAAAAAGJE/lR8NpD1u6OwSGYp4X87BH6CufDIUp3n6ACKgB/s400/IMG_4071.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
I fell back onto the bed nearly passing out. My Mom told me after that she thought I was done for. I begged for oxygen. Could hear all of the cries and screams that IT’S A GIRL, but couldn't lift my head. I remember hearing Dave squealing through the tears that she looks just like Mason but the power that had taken over my body wouldn’t allow me to lift up and see her. </div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Finally I was able to get my bearings as they laid her on my chest with a giant bow on her head. One of my nurses Darla had made it for her before shift change and passed it on to Kelly before she left. She said she just knew it was a girl. </span><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iotgFWL-NIQ/V3P6aIJYpKI/AAAAAAAAGJE/1p2vRNNLS60Om_rfhib1G3Iv5I9ZI9_MACKgB/s1600/IMG_4069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iotgFWL-NIQ/V3P6aIJYpKI/AAAAAAAAGJE/1p2vRNNLS60Om_rfhib1G3Iv5I9ZI9_MACKgB/s400/IMG_4069.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1">My first look at her drew me deep into to her eyes as she looked up to me. </span> I remember mumbling that they were so big. It was like she knew already what a gift she was and as her eyes bore into mine she began healing my broken soul. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g0OHaj4nkHk/V3P6afg1l2I/AAAAAAAAGJE/_Cuhli5ikh8_VM73YOAilaj3SViOtsxEACKgB/s1600/IMG_4070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-g0OHaj4nkHk/V3P6afg1l2I/AAAAAAAAGJE/_Cuhli5ikh8_VM73YOAilaj3SViOtsxEACKgB/s400/IMG_4070.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I was in complete awe. I had a baby GIRL and she did look just like Mason. Sommer (after Dad) Elizabeth (after my Grandma who became my mom once my birth mom left us) West. I just stared in utter disbelief. I cried. We all cried. I remember looking to my Aunt who was laughing and crying at the same time and saying “she came straight from Dad, she really did.” </div>
<span class="s1"></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X7N059UGLLE/V3P6aXbr3wI/AAAAAAAAGJE/VO1glWtalpI2F3Ocjl075S_vGlM7Db9JgCKgB/s1600/IMG_4072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X7N059UGLLE/V3P6aXbr3wI/AAAAAAAAGJE/VO1glWtalpI2F3Ocjl075S_vGlM7Db9JgCKgB/s400/IMG_4072.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br /></div>
<div class="p2">
My brother later told me that as he waited outside my room for the all clear to come in that my Dr. walked out, saw him and said “man this is a good, good day!” Oh’ how my heart swelled hearing that. He has been with me through it all. All the migraines. The miscarriage. Paxtons diagnosis. Dad. He knew how much we wanted a little girl too. <span class="s1"></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">Delivering her on my own is single handedly the proudest moment of my entire life. There truly aren’t words to describe how primitive and omnipotent that experience is. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yrtrqpZfCtE/V3P6aiZ-S-I/AAAAAAAAGJE/efReu-wxZeA5di_5jOj-gEJhYlvFKPnNgCKgB/s1600/IMG_4101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yrtrqpZfCtE/V3P6aiZ-S-I/AAAAAAAAGJE/efReu-wxZeA5di_5jOj-gEJhYlvFKPnNgCKgB/s400/IMG_4101.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
After all of the ooh’ing, awwing and stuffing my face (dear lord was I ravenous with no food all day) we were moved upstairs. My nurse even got us the suite room after all we had been through the past year. Sommer was already a princess.</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cnWKXgS26zM/V3P6aUMJwoI/AAAAAAAAGJE/7ATv1Unw6_QSPK-Z6WeSuxO9gKUnPU92QCKgB/s1600/IMG_4080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cnWKXgS26zM/V3P6aUMJwoI/AAAAAAAAGJE/7ATv1Unw6_QSPK-Z6WeSuxO9gKUnPU92QCKgB/s400/IMG_4080.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
She is very literally an angel from heaven. I don’t have a single doubt in my mind that this baby that was such a ‘ surprise’ to us initially, was a part of our story all along. It is no coincidence that after four boys, our little girl, who we would name Sommer came when she did. I don’t know what happens to us when we die. I like to believe there is some form of heaven where we are reunited with the ones we miss and love most. I wasn’t brought up religious, so I don’t have any certain intrinsic belief in me, but I do know that we are powerful beings with the potential to mighty things. My Dad did in life and in his death. My daughter is the by-product of that. She is the very representation of the circle of life. That soothes me as I continue to navigate this grief. <span class="s1"></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UqZ2hH4gvUA/V3P6apgx5QI/AAAAAAAAGJE/jwx3qkG1tcE5UUYLkscROMzGkNwWY6jOwCKgB/s1600/IMG_4122.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="358" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UqZ2hH4gvUA/V3P6apgx5QI/AAAAAAAAGJE/jwx3qkG1tcE5UUYLkscROMzGkNwWY6jOwCKgB/s640/IMG_4122.PNG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(thank you jaime for being there as she made her entrance and for always just getting it)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
She comforts me every minute of every day. Her soul is so angelic and her demeanor heavenly in every sense of the word. <br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tz-1kG-VW-Y/V3P6avEiuGI/AAAAAAAAGJE/wNaLe0mRFIoKngEi24OXYecW8tcaXIp6wCKgB/s1600/IMG_4128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tz-1kG-VW-Y/V3P6avEiuGI/AAAAAAAAGJE/wNaLe0mRFIoKngEi24OXYecW8tcaXIp6wCKgB/s640/IMG_4128.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(kelly goggin photography)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p2">
I will never know why my Daddy had to go so soon. It hurts. SO badly, even now. I literally miss him more with each passing day, but in his wake he left me a <i>perfect</i> piece of himself. A little girl who is Sommer genes through and through. Identical to her Mama who likes to think she is just like her Daddy. Their stories will forever be intertwined and one day she will come to understand how special she really is, because you don't get a name like Sommer unless you are #sommerstrong.<span class="s1"></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m3rCoI3UFN8/V3P6bAMqguI/AAAAAAAAGJE/tcAsbANwa3s0kx_htEsgZeirm-6qtcJzwCKgB/s1600/IMG_6075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-m3rCoI3UFN8/V3P6bAMqguI/AAAAAAAAGJE/tcAsbANwa3s0kx_htEsgZeirm-6qtcJzwCKgB/s400/IMG_6075.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(me on the left, sommer on the right)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EySkFkH7hlQ/V3P9pDjGIDI/AAAAAAAAGJc/yi3cSChb0pccXXyex7EKe8cs6fsBvn00QCLcB/s1600/IMG_2395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EySkFkH7hlQ/V3P9pDjGIDI/AAAAAAAAGJc/yi3cSChb0pccXXyex7EKe8cs6fsBvn00QCLcB/s400/IMG_2395.JPG" width="366" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Until we meet again, we will remain #sommerstrong Dad. Miss you and love you morester.</div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
</div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">and p.s.~ thank you.</span><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HAGrkjTGmdA/V3P9ghq2lxI/AAAAAAAAGJk/EeUR0yB2M745UWD0IbkAfLif3WCWh3J0ACKgB/s1600/IMG_1140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HAGrkjTGmdA/V3P9ghq2lxI/AAAAAAAAGJk/EeUR0yB2M745UWD0IbkAfLif3WCWh3J0ACKgB/s640/IMG_1140.JPG" width="512" /></a></div>
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-33378348931168542922015-05-13T17:58:00.001-07:002015-05-13T18:18:04.726-07:00A stream of consciousness on losing my Daddy...<br />
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I will never forget where I was or how I felt in the moments leading up to “that moment”. The suck the breath right out of your very body, suffocating, life will never, ever be the same “moment”.</span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As you may or may not know, I am pregnant. With #5! I know, holy shit right! I thought that very same thing. Anyway, pregnancy causes my migraines to heighten. That Friday night my brother Adam had come over to hang out because he is awesome like that. I was sick as hell, but trying desperately to avoid the hospital...again. I woke up that Saturday worse than ever. Dave had to work so Adam took me, bless his heart. They drugged me and gave me fluids all the while my brother waited patiently beside me. He stepped out to give Dad a call to see how things were going at the State meet that morning. He did not answer....</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When Adam came back in the nurse said I was still pretty dehydrated and they wanted to give me another bag of fluids so I sent Adam on his way telling him I would call Dave for a ride when I needed one. </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Awhile later as I am trying to get a ride home, but to no avail due to spotty cell service in the hospital, a random text comes through. Without going into detail it said something to the effect of I am so sorry to hear the horrible new about your dad...etc. etc.” Remember I had been sick for days and finally quite drugged so I wasn’t really grasping what was happening, however I knew immediately that something wasn’t right. No one types that kind of text by accident. The nurse came in and the look on my face must have spoken volumes because she asked if I was ok. I told her what had happened and she promptly took out her cell phone for me to use. I called Dave and told him I got a weird text about Dad to which he played it off all casually saying he would call my Mom to figure out what was going on. Little did I know what was happening behind the scenes. Well if you know how close my Dad and I were then you know I wasn’t about to just sit there, so I called my Mom. She answered and I could tell this was bad. She handed the phone off to my Aunt who was basically stalling by repeating herself so I didn’t have to find out alone. Then just as “that moment” was about to hit me alone in a hospital room, Dave and my brother came barreling through my door. I knew by their faces that he was gone. He grabbed the phone from me, slammed it down and choked out “he didn’t make it”. I looked from Dave to Adam, Adam to Dave and then the wailing began. Loud and long. I was screaming no, how did this happen. </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No one came in. Everyone there seemed to know and they allowed my crying to permeate the entire ER.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Almost as quickly as I started crying, I stopped. I checked myself out of the ER as the shock set in nearly immediately. I can’t say I have ever felt this kind of shock. There has been bone chilling fear with Paxton and shock at his initial diagnosis but there was always a shred of hope. My Dad had died. There was no hope and this shock was an altogether different thing. My brain had a tremendously hard time really understanding that he was gone. I knew that he was, people were telling me that he was, but my brain wasn’t making the connection. There were no more tears for days. Friends came over and later asked me if I remember seeing them at all I seemed so out of it. I remember the rest of that day and the days after as a blurry panning of a movie camera. I saw what was happening but my eyes just scanned back and forth as I went through the motions. I wound up back in the ER that same night. The pain in my head so bad. The nausea and vomiting even worse. My dear neighbor drove me back and sat in the dark with me as I held a framed picture of my Dad to my heart for hours as they medicated and hydrated me again. </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I came home and forced myself not to think about it. I knew I could be nothing to my Mom, brother and sister who needed me if I continued to be as sick as I had been. My health was on a cliff and this news had the ability to fling me over if I wasn’t very very careful. </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">**************************</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My Dad... well, he was some kind of awesome. A simple google of his name will tell you what a devoted Coach he was. I could write for hours and hours about all of the lives he impacted and changed. Adults and children alike. l touched on that devotion in my funeral speech.. (pasted if here if you weren’t there)</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Good morning! As you may or may not know, I am Jennie, Coach’s oldest daughter. Oldest by a lot of years actually. My Dad had me when he was just a young college student. Oh’ but even then he was as incredible as he was when he left us. He turned out being a single dad with a very young baby for many years. I don’t know a lot of men at the age of 21 that want to take on raising a baby on their own. I am sure it doesn’t surprise any of you that he did though. You see, I knew my Dad before all of this. Before he ever made the newspapers or won the state championships. Just as he has watched me evolve over the years, I was able to do the same with him. It seems time did nothing but perfect him. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i></i></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Today will be one week exactly that I found out my father had crossed his final finish line. The shock is still as heavy as the day I was told. The ache grows deeper every day. The reality that I will never see him again can be all consuming at times, but then I pause and look around at all of you here now or look on facebook or any given newspaper and see the articles, the tributes, the thank yous, the love and i think “jenn that's YOUR dad.” Your dad has touched all of these hundreds of hundreds of people in such a profound way that years later they are coming in droves to say good bye to him and that sadness turns honor. I am honored to be his daughter. I remember when I went to high school among these very walls that I never had a name, i was always simply “coach sommers daughter” everyone called me that and that pride ran deep. I was the daughter of the man that everyone loved... ok and lets be real, that many hated come speedwork time. </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i></i></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I don’t know why my dad was taken so soon. I will never know. I only know that he spent his entire life making sure Adam, Ashely and I turned out to be good people. Kind people. Tough people. People who worked hard. Knew that things could always be so much worse. I never understood when I got sad or frustrated why my dad would firmly say “ you think you have it bad Jennie, there are kids all over fighting for their lives in hospitals...” and he would let that simmer. It sunk in and many, many years later I would come to find out just exactly what he meant when I would look at my own son fighting for his life in a hospital. He was preparing me all along. I can stand up here today and speak in front of you because my Dad prepared me for anything that life throws my way. I can still hear him saying “you gotta hit the curve balls bean.” </span></i></span></div>
<div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i></i></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Daddy, wherever you are please know that I love you “MORESTER” and while you would always reply and i quote that's impossible, there is just no love like a daddys little girls love.</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i></i></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I can only hope I made him as proud as he makes me. I hope I can be half the parent to my children that my Dad was to me. I hope that his legacy lives on in all of you. He may be gone, but the work, the time, the effort and the love he put into us is not. He has been preparing ALL of us all along how to be Sommer strong. </span></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="font: 11.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 13.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i></i></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*************************</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Time has now turned into two phases. Before and after. Before I lost my Dad and after. My thoughts continually rush in and each one now holds a before or after on the end of it. Oh’ look there is where we had that race we all went to “before” Dad died. Or I was driving down this road in this very spot when that song came on that I sobbed through “after” Dad died. Before. After. Before. After. I presume this will fade as time marches on. I presume this fog that I am constantly living in will lift. I pray the pain will ease, because it is so very, very heavy. I try to continue because I know he wouldn’t want us to roll over, but getting out of bed is hard. I just want to lay with the shirt he died in wrapped around my neck for all of eternity, but I can’t because I have 4 little sets of eyes depending on me to be ok. Learning from me, watching my every move as I navigate through this grief. I think of how he would want me to present myself and I do it, for him, and then when my babies are all tucked into bed I retreat to my room and fall apart. I cry endless, hot, wet tears full of longing for a simple chance to say good bye. To tell him I love him. Just like all of the quotes tell you to do... </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I know he knew though. I know as he took his final breaths that his wife and children were what was on his mind. I know this beyond the shadow of a doubt. After his first heart attack he would always tell me “all I want is to be around long enough that my children will be old enough to be ok.” Over and over he would tell me this. My Dad and I had a sort of a mutually morbid way about us. I think perhaps watching my Grandma (his mom) die a long, slow death from Leukemia grew that in us. I can remember having conversations with him about how we wanted to die. Dad always said fast. He didn’t want to suffer and I would always say no Alzheimer's, I couldn’t imagine forgetting him. We would go back and forth but the conclusion always remained the same, I want to make it until I know my kids will be ok. His wish was granted. We all will be ok. As hard as it seems right now, I know that we will be ok. All of us. And his wish has now become mine for my children.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The last newspaper count was 1,800 people that attended his service. That’s one thousand eight hundred people!!! I don’t think I have even encountered that many people in my lifetime, let alone made such an impact on them that they should all want to come say one last final good bye. Many people have told me they are changed because of this. I think anyone at his funeral could look around and think how few people there are out there as selfless as he. So giving. So kind. He may have only been granted 58 years, but I’ll be damned if he ever wasted a single day of them. Not a single day went by that he wasn’t helping, motivating or pushing someone to be better than they ever knew they could be. He gave so much of himself. The man never slept. <br />
“I will have plenty of time to rest when I am dead.” He said it all the time. Someone wrote somewhere to him “Rest Easy Coach, you deserve it,” and I will be damned if that ain’t the truth.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I remember seeing him the Friday before the service. We had a private family viewing. I was not in favor of seeing him from the start, but it isn’t all about me, so I lost that battle. In the end, it was a battle I am glad I lost. I will never forget the first glance at him as the entire back of my body clung to the wall for support. I hesitantly poked my head around and nearly fell to the ground. I thought I had prepared myself. I had not. I looked to my brother, eyes as wide as saucers I am sure, and he said to me “I don’t think I can go in there”. I knew then we had to do this together. So I grabbed his hand and together we walked over to see our deceased Dad. I reminded myself over and over again that “Dad” wasn’t in this body anymore. It was just his shell. Oh’ but I loved that shell. That giant smile, he so graciously bestowed to me when I was born. His hands that rubbed my temples when I couldn’t sleep at night. The ears he listened to me with for 35 years, bless his heart. I wanted it all back. ALL of him. I stood there, staring over him, completely shell shocked. My Dad was gone. Forever. I would never hug him or talk to him again. I then sat in the chair and the shock began to dissipate into loud, gut wrenching sobs. My Daddy was gone. </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Eventually my sister and I went back up to his casket where together we held hands and touched him. He was cold. I expected that, but once we got the initial touch over with we bathed him in love. Talked to him. Held his hands. Rubbed his face and sneakily wiped the stupid lipstick off his lips. He would not have been cool with that lipstick man. </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In the midst of our sadness and deep grief, we laughed. Saying he needed bronzer. Saying he didn’t smell like stinky, sweaty Dad, to which my husband offered to put one of his shoes in the casket. We joked that we kept waiting for him to pop up and say “Ha, just f*&ckin” with ya!” because that’s my Dad. He was funny. He was perverted. He joked constantly and if he could have popped up and did that to us he SO would have. We said we wouldn’t even be mad. The humor sneaking its way into the sadness was exactly what he would have wanted. There is always a reason to smile and laugh. He left us with a lifetime full of laughter, funnies and above all....LOVE. </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Saturday after the service as they asked us to say our final good byes, I panicked. Suddenly this body that terrified me at first was my only lifeline to Dad and I didn’t want them to take him away. I laid on him and sobbed, knowing this is the last I would see of my Daddy in this lifetime. That hurts to a depth my writer self doesn’t have words for. </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As the day came to a close and people told me how strong I was, how proud he would be, I began to realize that his body was not, in fact, my only lifeline to him. It was actually very much the opposite. Everything he taught me through the years was. The wisdom, the love, the <i>strength</i>, the humor, the kindness. All of <i>those </i>things are my lifeline to Dad and they can never be taken away. Continuing to live the life he adamantly instilled in us is and always will be the final, never ending connection to the single, greatest man I have ever known...</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FiRuf1BbJc8/VVPvkynzS-I/AAAAAAAAF7Y/SqxxmX2Z1JM/s1600/IMG_2364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FiRuf1BbJc8/VVPvkynzS-I/AAAAAAAAF7Y/SqxxmX2Z1JM/s640/IMG_2364.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"MORESTER" forever and ever Daddy!</span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Love, </span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Jennie Bean"</span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-26315491835205416632015-02-05T18:32:00.001-08:002015-02-05T18:51:11.343-08:00Wowww. It's been since November. I would be surprised if I had any readers left, but I am a Mommy first. <br />
<br />
I have spent all five days of this month, February, "heart month", CHD Awareness month, thinking about how I want to address the significance of it without sounding redundant. If you have read my blog for any length of time, you have seen the many posts about Paxton. His journey. His fight. His stunning bravery, of which I don't know that I would have in his shoes. I have written about it all many times. To me though, there is nothing redundant about it. Nothing redundant about living day to day wondering if he will wake up tomorrow, because guys, that <i>is</i> our reality. Panicking if he oversleeps. Holding my breath as he goes to ju jitsu and attempts to be a normal child, never quitting, not even for a second, while I sit and watch his lips turn blue as he exerts himself. Waiting. Just waiting for the ball to drop. There is nothing redundant about being a Mom to a boy with half a heart. There is <i>nothing </i>redundant about being a Mom to a child with cancer. Or liver failure. Or SCID (Deklan and Jenna, I love you and I have never even met you, but I will. I promise you that.) <br />
<br />
<i>There is NOTHING redundant about being a Mom to a child with special needs.</i> <br />
<br />
So I will not apologize or hold back my shouting from the rooftops that tomorrow is WEAR <span style="color: red;"><b>RED</b></span> TO SUPPORT AND RAISE AWARENESS FOR CONGENITAL HEART DEFECTS!!!!! I will not shy away from asking you all to join us in doing so. I don't care if it's a sock or your best pair of <span style="color: red;">red </span>granny panties, just please support all of us on this journey.<br />
<br />
1 in 100 babies are born with a congenital heart defect. More than all childhood cancers combined. NOT that it matters one iota which disease is bigger or badder. I am simply stating how prevalent CHD's are and yet so few know about them. I, for one, can come forward and say I didn't know jack or shit about congenital heart defects until I was laying on that ultrasound table and the tech said "Jen... there is something really wrong with your babies heart." Til the day I die, I will never forget that feeling. And until the day I die I will never stop praying and begging and hoping, for not only my own son's life, but for all of these children who have to endure so much so young. I don't care what from. These kids. God are they brave. We adults, wouldn't stand a chance against them. <br />
<br />
Tomorrow though. Tomorrow is Paxtons day. Kians day. Mateos Day. Ashers Day. Graces Day. Grahams Day. Jacks Day. Sadies Day. Zoeys Day. Izaaks Day. Bodies Day. Olivers Day. Emmas Day. The list, my friends, sadly, goes on and on. Among those I listed are several angels. There are many, many more CHD angels among us. Gone far, FAR to soon, having fought hellacious battles in their short time here. Those of us who still have our warriors here, are the lucky ones. Every single day that he is here, we are <i>lucky</i>. I<b> never</b> lose sight of that.<br />
<br />
Paxton has gotten to the age where he has begun to understand that he has a "special heart". Oh' just let me tell you all the ways that he does not like it. He despises being different than his brothers and wants to know "why he is the only one in the family with a special heart??" Why he has to wear a chest guard. Why he has to take medicine. Why he has to get pictures of his heart. We answer the questions as they come. We stress his awesomeness daily. He knows his bravery.<br />
<br />
Friends, take the time to read that article a Mom posted about CHD's that most scroll on by. If it was your baby.... you would. Wouldn't you? I think that's why I have come to understand any battle, CHD or otherwise. Whatever the "diagnosis", I grasp that it is still someones baby and it just kills my Mommy heart. I recently read a Huffington post article that simply said " I get it, I am a Mom." And that is how I feel anytime I read of a child being diagnosed with annnnyyythingggg. I. GET IT.<br />
<br />
It is my greatest hope that all of these children come to know how truly special they are. That they know their battles are not fought in vain. That we are all here to pull for them, pray for them and support them.<br />
<span style="color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: red;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: red;">RED</span> tomorrow for them!!!!!!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9O4BurNiPkI/URJ-Mis8I3I/AAAAAAAAE1Y/e1qYvMs2ofQ/s1600/photo-258.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9O4BurNiPkI/URJ-Mis8I3I/AAAAAAAAE1Y/e1qYvMs2ofQ/s1600/photo-258.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ohxPOfxb1ag/URJ-MVuxVhI/AAAAAAAAE1U/tXOPfHsN6Ww/s1600/photo-257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ohxPOfxb1ag/URJ-MVuxVhI/AAAAAAAAE1U/tXOPfHsN6Ww/s1600/photo-257.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MJMYerFi-Ww/UHLU-p4BsII/AAAAAAAAErI/slStK2nRN6w/s1600/IMG_4730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MJMYerFi-Ww/UHLU-p4BsII/AAAAAAAAErI/slStK2nRN6w/s1600/IMG_4730.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iEhbBygdetY/UKuNUewcuzI/AAAAAAAAEro/f-jJLR68WQM/s1600/photo-12.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iEhbBygdetY/UKuNUewcuzI/AAAAAAAAEro/f-jJLR68WQM/s1600/photo-12.PNG" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UtahhXc-cY0/ULjOalNccjI/AAAAAAAAFSo/8eUrMcOYmYg/s1600/photo-12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UtahhXc-cY0/ULjOalNccjI/AAAAAAAAFSo/8eUrMcOYmYg/s1600/photo-12.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-644hDDPKlxE/ULjPjddhPWI/AAAAAAAAEtA/SVmt8JEbTBg/s1600/photo-3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-644hDDPKlxE/ULjPjddhPWI/AAAAAAAAEtA/SVmt8JEbTBg/s1600/photo-3.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eT_hNv1ywwo/ULjPu6WBDfI/AAAAAAAAEt4/urNGM0z12cQ/s1600/photo-9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eT_hNv1ywwo/ULjPu6WBDfI/AAAAAAAAEt4/urNGM0z12cQ/s1600/photo-9.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PV6800IckOE/UOt31c2GVaI/AAAAAAAAExA/wnEmxS93dl4/s1600/photo-16.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PV6800IckOE/UOt31c2GVaI/AAAAAAAAExA/wnEmxS93dl4/s1600/photo-16.PNG" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EKpJTq-DKIw/UOt34oA2bnI/AAAAAAAAExk/c9hLkTA_2l0/s1600/photo-20.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EKpJTq-DKIw/UOt34oA2bnI/AAAAAAAAExk/c9hLkTA_2l0/s1600/photo-20.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aUITcaRZ-8g/UQnju0LqNwI/AAAAAAAAE0Y/sNlD_BunWc8/s1600/photo-37.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aUITcaRZ-8g/UQnju0LqNwI/AAAAAAAAE0Y/sNlD_BunWc8/s1600/photo-37.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ycv0c_RiWsc/URJ-LrhobSI/AAAAAAAAFSs/sPrS-Vzosyw/s1600/photo-131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ycv0c_RiWsc/URJ-LrhobSI/AAAAAAAAFSs/sPrS-Vzosyw/s1600/photo-131.JPG" height="400" width="298" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4GeKu1OMX28/URJ-Mzj4quI/AAAAAAAAE1k/fgW7jfpOjW4/s1600/photo-259.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4GeKu1OMX28/URJ-Mzj4quI/AAAAAAAAE1k/fgW7jfpOjW4/s1600/photo-259.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zN9NSU57_ec/URJ-NAcOyNI/AAAAAAAAE1c/GhLDDR-5rZ0/s1600/photo-260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zN9NSU57_ec/URJ-NAcOyNI/AAAAAAAAE1c/GhLDDR-5rZ0/s1600/photo-260.JPG" height="400" width="297" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dlEjigL6ado/URJ-NhtZLWI/AAAAAAAAE10/7UDAlVDHSAk/s1600/photo-262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dlEjigL6ado/URJ-NhtZLWI/AAAAAAAAE10/7UDAlVDHSAk/s1600/photo-262.JPG" height="400" width="297" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lqIBkAqDRT8/URJ-N0SOrLI/AAAAAAAAE1w/Kj1R0nngFcY/s1600/photo-263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lqIBkAqDRT8/URJ-N0SOrLI/AAAAAAAAE1w/Kj1R0nngFcY/s1600/photo-263.JPG" height="400" width="297" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dqpRSioNsjw/URJ-OCqrdzI/AAAAAAAAE1s/PV1XTfhLqKU/s1600/photo-264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dqpRSioNsjw/URJ-OCqrdzI/AAAAAAAAE1s/PV1XTfhLqKU/s1600/photo-264.JPG" height="400" width="297" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BWgj5guXJxc/URJ-OhgvjQI/AAAAAAAAE14/uMv_wv5AWPs/s1600/photo-265.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BWgj5guXJxc/URJ-OhgvjQI/AAAAAAAAE14/uMv_wv5AWPs/s1600/photo-265.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s_mqDfopzu0/URJ-PK3YPLI/AAAAAAAAE2E/qUGUno3jG5w/s1600/photo-267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s_mqDfopzu0/URJ-PK3YPLI/AAAAAAAAE2E/qUGUno3jG5w/s1600/photo-267.JPG" height="400" width="298" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pxHwPKHeyZ0/URJ-PZq2kYI/AAAAAAAAE2A/pVWrN2gRPIk/s1600/photo-268.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pxHwPKHeyZ0/URJ-PZq2kYI/AAAAAAAAE2A/pVWrN2gRPIk/s1600/photo-268.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OKPbDJNqI3s/URJ-PujMSQI/AAAAAAAAE2M/pp_PF-VIHGA/s1600/photo-269.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OKPbDJNqI3s/URJ-PujMSQI/AAAAAAAAE2M/pp_PF-VIHGA/s1600/photo-269.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XfJftwk5Ifk/URJ-P76XaaI/AAAAAAAAE2I/HJhQtgK2Pv4/s1600/photo-270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XfJftwk5Ifk/URJ-P76XaaI/AAAAAAAAE2I/HJhQtgK2Pv4/s1600/photo-270.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6guQ4ZSvBTk/URJ-QhaBMwI/AAAAAAAAE2U/nYL3KDGctCs/s1600/photo-4.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6guQ4ZSvBTk/URJ-QhaBMwI/AAAAAAAAE2U/nYL3KDGctCs/s1600/photo-4.PNG" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6yYhumFKi5A/URJ-RaQoq1I/AAAAAAAAFSs/en9oB56OpzE/s1600/photo-63.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6yYhumFKi5A/URJ-RaQoq1I/AAAAAAAAFSs/en9oB56OpzE/s1600/photo-63.JPG" height="400" width="298" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xpi3FhCSc9g/UZT2qYwlVpI/AAAAAAAAE8U/1F8XhhjY6pw/s1600/photo-45.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xpi3FhCSc9g/UZT2qYwlVpI/AAAAAAAAE8U/1F8XhhjY6pw/s1600/photo-45.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3BVrj30L8sI/UdIjNiXAoxI/AAAAAAAAE-U/-EGh4fOAkDI/s1600/photo-33.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3BVrj30L8sI/UdIjNiXAoxI/AAAAAAAAE-U/-EGh4fOAkDI/s1600/photo-33.PNG" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wjDThAaK86U/Uj-mq33cuyI/AAAAAAAAFDM/vIwU0TFfyss/s1600/photo-61.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wjDThAaK86U/Uj-mq33cuyI/AAAAAAAAFDM/vIwU0TFfyss/s1600/photo-61.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Love and massive heart hugs~</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
j</div>
<br />
ps~ to those who simply shared my FB status yesterday, and there were several of you. thank you!!! that is how the word is spread. how the support is shown. how my boy is lifted up. xoxoIt's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-75065731813344812712014-11-04T19:42:00.001-08:002014-11-04T20:08:20.524-08:00Talon Turns One.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h5h6wt990Vo/VFmVGe8rIBI/AAAAAAAAFzU/4zD8p_61vh8/s1600/IMG_7485.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h5h6wt990Vo/VFmVGe8rIBI/AAAAAAAAFzU/4zD8p_61vh8/s1600/IMG_7485.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
We all know that when we go through something hard and ugly, scary and desperate that it changes us. It opens our eyes, makes us appreciate things in a new way. I had a sick baby. I spent a lot of time in a hospital with him. I watched him fight for his life. Then I had another baby. A healthy one. I knew things would be different with him in that I would be experiencing it all in a whole new light . What I did not know is just how deeply that would run.</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Oea3tQRhN4/VFmVPtEQt1I/AAAAAAAAFz0/Zrzm_rgO1Fc/s1600/IMG_7568.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Oea3tQRhN4/VFmVPtEQt1I/AAAAAAAAFz0/Zrzm_rgO1Fc/s1600/IMG_7568.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My baby is one today. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6o2NyJDoEF4/VFmVKEhcP8I/AAAAAAAAFzk/wI0siDDI79c/s1600/IMG_7532.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6o2NyJDoEF4/VFmVKEhcP8I/AAAAAAAAFzk/wI0siDDI79c/s1600/IMG_7532.jpg" height="619" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
It has hit me in such a profound way. This past year has been a bit surreal. Sure there were days where I lost it and couldn’t keep my head above water, but I never let it last for long. Mostly though, all of this past year was mother f ing incredible. The middle of the night feeds. The sheer exhaustion. The nursing round the clock. The still nursing one year later. The joy my boys all have for each other. The way any one of them will light up when they walk in and see “TT” or “Chumpy Wumpy”. The way this family has effortlessly expanded to let in this little boy who completes us. </div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F-2lxxS14Dw/VFmVKZoE3aI/AAAAAAAAFzs/_K3qdf3DEE0/s1600/IMG_7521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-F-2lxxS14Dw/VFmVKZoE3aI/AAAAAAAAFzs/_K3qdf3DEE0/s1600/IMG_7521.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
Talon is breathtaking. His eyes, his smile, his laugh, his expressions, his raspy little voice, his laid back, go with the flow as long as he’s got us around self. I didn’t know it would be this amazing. 4 boys is a lot, but somehow this little boy of ours makes it easier. Better. </div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gC5GkUkLAHI/VFmaLT_wRFI/AAAAAAAAF0c/VAND5fj0P_o/s1600/IMG_7519.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gC5GkUkLAHI/VFmaLT_wRFI/AAAAAAAAF0c/VAND5fj0P_o/s1600/IMG_7519.jpg" height="377" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
We laugh with and at him. We all cheer when he says something or claps his hands. The boys squeal my name “MOM!! TT, COME LOOK!” when they catch him trying to walk. We all dance around him to which he will immediately dance right back. The boys are to old for Mickey Mouse, but they watch it because “TT” loves it. They play with “baby toys” because it makes Talon happy. I find them all in his crib every morning playing with him even though I have told them not to many times. The risk is worth the love I suppose. <span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oGrL1u5IACk/VFmVWKqI0jI/AAAAAAAAF0E/-lCfTX96U28/s1600/IMG_7556.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oGrL1u5IACk/VFmVWKqI0jI/AAAAAAAAF0E/-lCfTX96U28/s1600/IMG_7556.jpg" height="561" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I have spent this year relishing every single moment. Relishing to a fault if that’s possible. Who knew one could “over relish”, but leave it to me to do so. I have had to learn to try to tame my emotions. To allow this to happen and be ok with moving forward. To be ok with him growing up and not being my baby forever. He will surely grow up fast with 3 older brothers, as much as I fight it. I go back down memory lane all the time and sometimes that is hard. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I am not ready to let go of this last year. It was that good.</span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WUb77k55GqM/VFmVRNBa7TI/AAAAAAAAFz8/AJpUU8U4Mj0/s1600/IMG_7566.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WUb77k55GqM/VFmVRNBa7TI/AAAAAAAAFz8/AJpUU8U4Mj0/s1600/IMG_7566.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I guess that’s to be expected when the years prior were so hard. Oh’ but watching him evolve into the little boy he is becoming does me in. Hits home just the same as laying in bed with a newborn curled into me. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yVtyG5xJwuk/VFma56ihpCI/AAAAAAAAF0k/qyBZu9_M6mE/s1600/IMG_7599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yVtyG5xJwuk/VFma56ihpCI/AAAAAAAAF0k/qyBZu9_M6mE/s1600/IMG_7599.jpg" height="640" width="433" /></a></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
I am reminded daily through my children that life is such a miraculous gift. We can take nothing when we go people. Just the love. And I am so grateful for this little boy who came in and healed this family so unknowingly. His little spirit is the balm for our wounds. He doesn’t know it. He won’t know for a long, long time what a gift he was to all five us. Now a party of SIX. </div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hHmvinuEVaI/VFma97m-5zI/AAAAAAAAF0s/aB4vn0Q7I2g/s1600/IMG_7578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hHmvinuEVaI/VFma97m-5zI/AAAAAAAAF0s/aB4vn0Q7I2g/s1600/IMG_7578.jpg" height="640" width="425" /></a></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Happy, HAPPY birthday Talon. You are absolutely dreamy inside and out. Please never stop laying your head on my shoulder for random snuggles or laughing when I kiss you endlessly. Always smile at those big brothers of yours who adore you and may you continue to become as wonderful as they are. You, little boy, are wrapped in love for life. I pray your future is as bright as those baby blues of yours! </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OTK7nQ0HqT4/VFmYG38XiAI/AAAAAAAAF0Q/L8UQz7fyUw8/s1600/IMG_7495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OTK7nQ0HqT4/VFmYG38XiAI/AAAAAAAAF0Q/L8UQz7fyUw8/s1600/IMG_7495.jpg" height="550" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
One year ago today you came into our world and changed it forever. </div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Luh you T”, </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Mommy, Daddy, Austin, Mason and Pax</span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Stats: </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">8 teeth</span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Still crawling. Walks along things. Tries to stand alone.</span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Still nursing. REFUSES a bottle.</span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Sleeps through the night. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Loves a bath, a walk, going for a bike ride, when you pretend to chase him and Mickey Mouse. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Will eat ANYthing. Favorites being hummus, eggs, cottage cheese and broccoli. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Drinks from a straw. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">All time favorite thing to do is dance. Has been since I first video’d him at 6 months old. Dances to music, tv, in the car or to nothing at all just to see us all giggle and jump for joy. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Loves books. Loves following brothers around the house. Opening cabinets and pulling everything out and yes....playing in the toilet if the door is left open. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Says Ma Ma, Da Da, Uh Oh and just recently Dog. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
(all photo credits go to our babysitter, which is a word I so dislike because she is so much more to our family: Miss Jordan Zuccarello.)<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><br /></span></div>
It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-73826135404580827932014-09-30T20:10:00.000-07:002014-09-30T20:12:18.208-07:00October. <br />
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This month. It never gets easier for me. You’d think it would man, but it doesn’t. Five years ago this time I was doing the best I could to prepare myself for a journey I knew nothing about. I was praying fervently for my sons life as he continued to grow this last week in my belly. I was fu*@ing terrified. I can say that word because well...because there is really no other way to describe it. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">My unborn baby, with HLHS. It was all about to unfold in a matter of days.... as my 30th birthday came and went 6 days before his scheduled arrival, I wished harder than I had ever wished when I blew out that candle. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I feel like 5 years in. 3 open heart surgeries, who knows how many hospital stays, ambulance rides, caths, needle pokes, echo’s and ekg’s in that I would be desensitized to this month, but I am not. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">October.</span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">October 8, 2009.</span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> My life would forever change.</span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The person that I thought I was, was no longer. I grew up more in those first two months than my entire 30 years prior. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I learned what really mattered in life.</span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I learned how to beg and bargain.</span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I learned how to be stoic when all I wanted to do was crumble. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I, the passive person that I am, learned how to fight for what she knew was right for her son. I became his advocate. I finally found my voice.</span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I learned how to stand beside this little baby that lived inside of me and keep myself together when all I wanted to do was grab him and run. To bring him home to his family. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I eventually got to do that. Many don’t. I am fully, <i>fully </i>aware of this. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I think each birthday that rolls around reminds me that we have made it another year. HE made it another year. He is not “fixed”. His repairs are palliative. We don’t know how long his half of a heart will hold out. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">His birthdays are incredibly bittersweet for me. I am overwhelmed with gratitude. So much so that I don’t know what to do with it. I cry. A lot. I am crying right now. Sometimes crying is all I know to do. It’s been like that a lot on this journey. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">The truth is, we wait. And wait. And wait. There are 3 surgeries. The Norwood, Glenn and Fontan. There are ages that those happen at. You have a “plan”. I like a plan!!! There is no plan now that he has had his surgeries and is doing well. So I guess I feel like we live in limbo a little bit. I want to know what’s next and when, but they can’t tell me that. It’s not up to any of us here. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And I know I have said all this before, but tonight in Ju Jitsu, which my boy loves so very much, I was slapped in the face with the reminder as I watched him start out running with his class. Then start to lag behind, then stumble, his face strained and pale. I thought he was going to go down. He sat down looking spacey and I called out to the coach. He recovered as I sat there shaking. Just shaking. Inside I was screaming something isn’t right, but on the outside I kept it together as best I could. I wanted to grab him and run him home just as I did as a newborn in that hospital. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
Outwardly on a daily basis he doesn’t look sick, but he is. Sick isn’t the right word I guess. I don’t know what you call walking around with half a heart, other than heroic. It can’t be easy. Everything other kids do so easily is so taxing on him. I wonder what he feels like at times. What must that feel like. <span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I love him so much and I am scared. As he gets older I get more scared. I can’t explain it other than there is no plan. We watch. We wait. We hope. We pray. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Today scared me and reminded me that outwardly he may not seem fragile. He certainly doesn’t act it, but inside that little heart of his is working so hard. </span>Life goes on. I get that. For us special needs Mamas, however, the fight continues. Inside our brains and our hearts, even though we walk around looking otherwise (most of the time ;) But most of all the fight continues inside all of our babies. These kids are the biggest fighters of all. </div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">His birthday is just around the bend. It’s going to be a day of celebrating! FIVE years. I remember it all, and there is a lot to remember, like it was yesterday. All of those feelings and emotions threaten to overwhelm me at any time, but especially come October. There will be tears. Happy, full of thank you tears. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Life ain’t always beautiful, but it’s a beautiful ride....</span></i></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3BVrj30L8sI/UdIjNiXAoxI/AAAAAAAAE-U/-EGh4fOAkDI/s1600/photo-33.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3BVrj30L8sI/UdIjNiXAoxI/AAAAAAAAE-U/-EGh4fOAkDI/s1600/photo-33.PNG" height="640" width="426" /></a></span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I love you Paxton West. You and your brothers are everything to me. </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Love and hugs</span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">~j</span></div>
It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-37380415251936920922014-07-11T09:59:00.007-07:002014-07-11T12:09:57.565-07:00A soapbox rant...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For those of you who know me, you know that I don't stand on my soap box very often. I avoid conflict at all costs. I will agree with someone whether I actually believe in what they are talking about or not just to avoid confrontation. I keep my thoughts to myself unless asked otherwise and I stay pretty even keel unless of course you mess with my kids to which you will immediately see a side me of that has the potential to wind me up in jail. I think most mothers can agree on that.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's just that as if I didn't have enough 'stress' in my life day to day just being a mom and a mom to a boy with HLHS, but its gotten to the point that I can't even feed my kids without the threat of killing them, giving them cancer or causing a behavioral issue. No dyes, no pesticides, no meat, no pasta, no bread, no fruit or veggies that aren't organic and heaven forbid they drink <i>anything</i> but triple filtered water. Don't stand in front of the microwave. Don't use that soap, its antibacterial and that is now bad. In fact don't use that soap because it is also laden with chemicals. Don't sanitize your hands with hand sanitizer even though preventing germs in our home is imperative, because that too, causes cancer and DO NOT EVEN think about applying sunscreen. Don't wear deodorant. Don't breathe that air. DON'T DON'T DON'T!!!!! Honestly I am exhausted on a daily basis trying to remember all of the don'ts that I can barely remember any of the do's because there are so few do's left.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I use essential oils to keep us as healthy as possible. I use Wally's ear oil instead of antibotics in their ears. I buy organic fruits and veggies. I buy organic meat. I stay away from dyes. I only use gluten and dairy free pasta. We don't eat bread. We do have chips but those too cause cancer so what the eff man and Fridays in our home are Pizza and family movie night. Pizza!!!!! I know! The nerve! I have Honest brand soap, diapers, wipes and sunscreen. I do what I freaking can people and now is also where I go ahead and give a MASSIVE shout out to my husband because without him working his tail off six days a week we wouldn't be able to afford half of the "organic" things we do in a family this large. Luckily I have a husband who is supportive of doing what we can. WE try. But honestly I am spent. I just want to live. But at what price. The human in me says just live, but the Mom in me says protect them however you can. So I read more and find out more ways that we are all killing ourselves by living and then I just want to curl in the fetal position and suck my thumb. I mean honestly, when did things get so freaking bad. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I stumbled across an article yesterday that told me how the Pediasure that keeps the g tube out of my sons belly is horrible, absolutely horrible for him. Awesome. Just f*%king awesome. I, of course, read the thing in its entirety and wound up in tears. He loves his "milkie". It has been his comfort through two of his three open heart surgeries. I half it with water (triple filtered of course. No not really ;) each time he gets a cup, but the kid drinks at least two pediasures a day. No he will not drink a smoothie with spinach and chia seeds and strawberries and bananas. He. Just. Won't. Don't think I haven't tried. Because I have. This is the kid who has lived many months of his life in a hospital eating spaghetti o's and cheesy eggs and yogurt because it's all we could get in him. The hospitals don't offer chia seed smoothies. And while I am all for chia seeds, I really am. I am also tired of being wracked with guilt because my son took in whatever he could when his body was fighting so hard just to live and now it's all food thats going to kill him. Even his beloved pediasure. It's chock full of shit. Complete crap, but you know what, he loves it. He also loves not having a feeding tube in his belly even more so I am going to continue to give him his damn "milkie" because it keeps him alive. It gives him the nutrients that oftentimes he is just to tired to get from eating. There are days he just doesn't eat because he is to goddamn exhausted from his heart working so hard, that we just snuggle in his bed with his blasted Pediasure full of chemicals so that his overworked little body can rest. I am <i>not </i>going to feel guilty for that. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tfJo3ljFKUM/U8AVYLssJ6I/AAAAAAAAFW0/XVdSV2jFX9A/s1600/photo2-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tfJo3ljFKUM/U8AVYLssJ6I/AAAAAAAAFW0/XVdSV2jFX9A/s1600/photo2-1.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You try telling that face no. That little body that has been through so much.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A huge part of me believes our destiny is already laid out for us. All pizza or all kale. While I don't believe in smoking, doing drugs or eating crap as a full time job to speed things along I do believe that what's going to happen is going to happen regardless of what we consume on a daily basis. I mean we all know someone who is "the healthiest person we know" and they get sick or find out they have cancer and all the "healthy" in the world didn't change that outcome. We all also know that person who drinks and smokes and eats like crap or even does drugs and they live forever. The human in me knows this is going to play out how it is meant to. The Mom in me still fights to get the best that she can into her kids, but I am also going to let my kids live. I am going to let them play outside and get vitamin D and I am also going to put sunscreen on them when I do ( The huge melanoma scar on my dads neck is my reminder). I opt for an organic brand, but if you can't afford organic then ya know what...so freaking be it. No one should feel guilty for that. We, as Moms, do the best we can with what we freaking have. What truly matters is the memories you make and the love that you give. Sure, guide them to healthy habits. You can bet your sweet ass I work hard at that with my own boys, but they will know balance too. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Just as I am learning balance in this internet crazed, information flooded society. Balance between doing what you can and leaving the rest up to the big man upstairs. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Maybe, just maybe, balance is actually the healthiest thing about being healthy. Pure speculation of course.</span></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mjr9qHFpYNQ/U8ATUIChjKI/AAAAAAAAFWM/mWjdpwmXWsM/s1600/photo2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mjr9qHFpYNQ/U8ATUIChjKI/AAAAAAAAFWM/mWjdpwmXWsM/s1600/photo2.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">our balance. avocado above, pizza crust below ;)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ETv6t0fTKmA/U8ATTwOCujI/AAAAAAAAFWQ/8Q4SvE5x4p8/s1600/photo3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ETv6t0fTKmA/U8ATTwOCujI/AAAAAAAAFWQ/8Q4SvE5x4p8/s1600/photo3.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So cheers to the freakin' weekend my friends. Whatever you find yourselves doing, do it with love and most importantly without guilt. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tonight I am going to order that pizza and those breadsticks, that my son hoards in his dresser drawer because he loves them so much, and I am NOT going to feel guilty. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wCA-NYdf814/U8ATTYD8rNI/AAAAAAAAFV8/yTGJNI1e70w/s1600/photo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wCA-NYdf814/U8ATTYD8rNI/AAAAAAAAFV8/yTGJNI1e70w/s1600/photo1.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(notice breadsticks in dresser drawer, i wasn't kidding about that)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lets be real here people, Pizza Hut breadsticks are the shiz niz. I get it son. I get it. We are going to let go of the worries tonight and in its place we are going to make memories. Memories that are going to be so good they will far outweigh the bad.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oC4RLoSELkU/U8ATV4Zz1fI/AAAAAAAAFWk/dbSGB-vwLBw/s1600/photo6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oC4RLoSELkU/U8ATV4Zz1fI/AAAAAAAAFWk/dbSGB-vwLBw/s1600/photo6.jpg" height="308" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am getting down off my soap box now. You have no idea the anxiety I have right now that I may have caused any sort of conflict with anyone by voicing my opinion. This is not directed at a single soul walking this planet. It's just a scared Mommy letting it all hang out. xo</span>It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-63997066633909920672014-05-05T20:19:00.003-07:002014-05-06T07:03:35.086-07:00talon michael...his birth story.rainbow baby. it's the birth of a baby after the loss of one. a rainbow after the storm per se. i think there should also be a name for the birth of a baby after having one with special needs. i say that because there was nothing that could prepare me for the emotion that i would feel when i laid eyes on my healthy baby this go round.<br />
<div>
it is no secret that i worried myself to pieces throughout this pregnancy. the high blood pressure and migraines were the proof in the pudding. it was, i suppose, inevitable after the last four years.</div>
<div>
no matter the tests or various ultrasounds i would not rest until i laid my physical eyes on this baby. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
as i neared the end of my pregnancy, my blood pressure rose and stayed there. the migraines increased in frequency and as fate would have it all THREE of my little guys got sick with the flu at once. this would be the first time all of them were man down at the very same time. one typically follows suit, but never at the same time. i was 38 weeks pregnant caring for three boys who had the flu. well you can guess what happened next. i, too, got it. it was a friday that i went in for what would be my last check up. my blood pressure remained high and i was incredibly sick. so he sent me over to the birth center for evaluation. i was severely dehydrated, put on fluids and told to rest until sunday evening when i would be induced. it was time. i had a couple of days to lay in bed and do nothing. except that's not really possible with 3 other children at home. thankfully, my closest friends rallied around. brought me food. picked up my kids. kept vigil making sure i was ok. i powered through prepping our home and the boys for my short absence. i could NOT wait to meet my baby. i thought for SURE it was a girl. i just knew it. this west baby was the most highly anticipated baby for sure. everyone could not believe we waited to find out the sex and on delivery day our phones and facebook were all a buzz with friends wanting to know if s/he was born yet.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
my aunt and uncle were down from arizona anxiously awaiting the birth as well. </div>
<div>
sunday morning i got up, went and got donuts for my boys, got the weeks groceries, prepared the house for the boys and their caretaker, took a nap and before i knew it, it was time to call and confirm there was a bed for me. there was and i was to be there at 7 to be admitted. i couldn't believe this was happening. i was going to meet my baby. this baby i had worried over and fallen in love with the moment i knew s/he was in my belly.</div>
<div>
we loaded up the car with my carefully packed bags, said good bye to the boys who were incredibly excited to meet their baby brother or sister the next day (they thought it was a sister too for the record ;), and took this last, most priceless picture </div>
<div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4n7ws-JBS9A/U2hFBmhseAI/AAAAAAAAFPM/4rwUlKFmdMU/s1600/photo-49.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4n7ws-JBS9A/U2hFBmhseAI/AAAAAAAAFPM/4rwUlKFmdMU/s1600/photo-49.PNG" height="640" width="360" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and then we left. as we drove down our street i looked over at my husband and said "the next time we drive down this street together we will have our baby with us, i can't believe this is happening" we blew through mcdonalds for one last diet coke before i was banned for however long this labor would take. i remember every moment.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P34bEkVxDi4/U2hEs1DB3MI/AAAAAAAAFOc/XT6N1Lv8BW0/s1600/photo-122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P34bEkVxDi4/U2hEs1DB3MI/AAAAAAAAFOc/XT6N1Lv8BW0/s1600/photo-122.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
even the simple moment of finally walking in to the birth place to actually, finally be there to have my baby this time instead of being there for a migraine or blood pressure. so many times before i longed to be there for the birth and it had finally come. we waited in the chair for our nurse to come get us. the double doors opened and out walked miss karen. i knew right away she was going to be awesome. i knew she was just the nurse to hand my letter to. the one i had typed weeks ago and filed in an envelope with the words "to my nurse" written on them. it was a letter explaining my last labor and delivery and what followed it. it explained how terrified i was to do this again. how terrified something would go wrong and how there would be tears and needed reassurance if she didn't mind. i handed that to her when she was stepping out of the room for bit. she came back, put her hand on my arm and said "i read your letter and will do everything i can to help you through this" and she more than did. after that we got things hooked up, meds started and i dozed off until around midnight when contractions woke me up. i had dilated to two centimeters already and by four i was four centimeters. i was moving along nicely and definitely feeling the contractions. the anesthesiologist was next door doing another epidural so we decided to go ahead and get mine. i am freaking terrified of epidurals. anything going into my spine doesn't sit well with me, but karen got me through and allowed me to squeeze the ever living hell out of her hands. we thought i would continue to dilate and have the baby come morning which led me to alert the family. they started filtering in around 7 when karens shift ended and right about when i stalled. </div>
<div>
little did i know it would be my longest labor. i fell asleep the night before around 10:30 and was woken up with those contractions by midnight. awake again at 2, epidural in at 4 and up from then on. i was b.e.a.t. and throwing up every hour from the epidural to boot. </div>
<div>
we waited. they checked me. no changes. we waited some more. no change. by the time noon rolled around with no changes, the throwing up and not being able to move since i had had an epidural for nearly 8 hours by this point ( i was OVER being numb) i began to get frustrated. i shed a few tears, puked a little more and tried to stay calm. my family was amazing. my aunt kept me excited through the exhaustion. dave held my puke bucket. dad kept the jokes flowing. my sister who had pink eye showed up with magazines galore andboy and girl balloons, ya know just in case. she stayed in the waiting room for hours, we even snuck her around to my window outside so she could see me. my brother and uncle stood guard quietly waiting and offering to get whatever i needed and my mother had the cameras set and where everyone was to stand for the best footage. finally at two o'c clock i was about 6 centimeters. not where i wanted, but at least some change. then come 2:45 ish my OB came in and said " i would have thought you'd have had your baby by now jen." i was like dear god me too dr. b. our pediatrician had called to see if i had and behind the scenes miss karen was calling too. he decided, then, to break my water. i was all like "halllllelujahhhhh!" actually everyone that had been there since the early morning was all like "halllllelujahhhhh!" the moment he broke my water the baby descended. i said i feel him or her. the doctor said that happens when the water breaks and left. as in left the building. apparently he thought since i moved so slow all day that i would continue to, but when i said i felt the baby i meant i FELT the baby. within minutes i was asking the nurse to check me. i was 9 cm. within minutes after that i said i needed to push. she checked me and i was complete. it was go time!!! only my dr. wasn't in the building. the room was suddenly a whirlwind with prepping going on, with students and doctor assistants. i was overwhelmed and by overwhelmed i mean four years of emotion and fear coming to a head. there were days i didn't think i had the emotional strength to have another baby after paxton. the fear suffocated me at times, but i had done it. i was about to see the fruits of my labor. literally. and as i lay there on that table, legs in stirrups i felt <i>suspended</i> in time. the minutes were moving in foggy, slow motion. in hindsight i am glad he wasn't in the building because in those moments of waiting, the tears streaming my face as the emotion of meeting a healthy him or her are moments i will remember as long as i live. i laid there crying. dave on one side telling me it was going to be ok, my aunt on the other stroking my hair. suspended and so very grateful for it. i will never forget the feeling of being moments away from meeting my baby. feeling him in my belly trying to come out, but having to wait. it was only 15 minutes or so, but it felt much longer. and then he walked in. i cried as i pushed. cried because it was really, truly happening. months and months of worry and anticipation slamming into mere moments that changed me forever. it would only be two big pushes. i remember hearing that his head was out. i asked through the tears what color hair s/he had? a brunette my aunt squealed! i cried. the sobs audible. it was happening. and the next moment there were legs hanging in the air and i instantly saw that it was a BOY! immediately the entire room erupted in laughter. i was laughing so very hard through the tears saying it's another boy over and over. of course it was a boy! we are a boy family and let me tell you how utterly perfect and beautiful he was. screaming as loud as he could.</div>
<div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-357FFzjIaag/U2hE-BO7g6I/AAAAAAAAFPE/GqdvogldKZI/s1600/photo-48.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-357FFzjIaag/U2hE-BO7g6I/AAAAAAAAFPE/GqdvogldKZI/s1600/photo-48.PNG" height="640" width="360" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
his name would be Talon Michael West. born 11/4/2013 at 3:06 pm weighing 7 pounds 6 ounces.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i did not believe it at the time, but he was also very, very healthy. they laid him on my chest and i cried and kissed him and scanned him from head to toe memorizing every square inch of him. when he cried i would talk to him and he would immediately stop crying. he knew his mama already and that slayed me. they left him on me for quite some time and as it turns out he got cold. i could see his feet turning purple only from the chill, not because he was sick, but i panicked anyway asking everyone if he was ok over and over. they promised it was only because he was cold, so i sent him off to be warmed up. this picture of me looking at his feet and the emotion on my face is the emotion of nine months of worry that he wouldn't be ok. there's doubt and sheer fear there as i try to analyze his feet. the feet are a big deal to me since paxtons were blue/purple until his second open heart surgery.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q2NuaGKU_Ds/U2hEunJiRYI/AAAAAAAAFOw/cvnXBba6pMs/s1600/photo-123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q2NuaGKU_Ds/U2hEunJiRYI/AAAAAAAAFOw/cvnXBba6pMs/s1600/photo-123.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
seeing talons turn purple literally made me freeze up inside and whats sad is that my mom happened to send this same picture to my dad who had gone back to work because talon took his sweet time and when he saw the picture he too noticed that talon looked purple. then he saw my face and immediately asked my mom if everything was ok and she said yes why. he said the picture made it look otherwise. my dad clearly has remaining fear as well. that doesn't ever go away i suppose. i spent the next hour staring at him, nursing him and loving him. such instant deep, seeded, overwhelming love. quite frankly the pictures tell it best...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-13A7rxrHdnU/U2hEvSWFAdI/AAAAAAAAFO4/GZThUVg1gRk/s1600/photo-125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-13A7rxrHdnU/U2hEvSWFAdI/AAAAAAAAFO4/GZThUVg1gRk/s1600/photo-125.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AiF_MPmzHm8/U2hFYtsa2nI/AAAAAAAAFPc/C9IscbQ7vVw/s1600/photo-80.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AiF_MPmzHm8/U2hFYtsa2nI/AAAAAAAAFPc/C9IscbQ7vVw/s1600/photo-80.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JKkIsbcXIt0/U2hJtuUaDjI/AAAAAAAAFQI/QiMzBZtkFNM/s1600/photo-93.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JKkIsbcXIt0/U2hJtuUaDjI/AAAAAAAAFQI/QiMzBZtkFNM/s1600/photo-93.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UF4Q9SuRaFE/U2hJoC6QFvI/AAAAAAAAFQA/rF3BO2Xy3m8/s1600/photo-82.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UF4Q9SuRaFE/U2hJoC6QFvI/AAAAAAAAFQA/rF3BO2Xy3m8/s1600/photo-82.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
and then it hit me. i had been up all night and i sit here today and can say i have never felt such sheer exhaustion in my life. i had been so far behind from the boys being sick, from being very pregnant, sick myself and then the long labor that i was maxed out. i remember as they prepared to move me up to recovery i could barely keep my head up. once i was all settled upstairs, dave and i just stared at him for the longest time. we couldn't wrap our heads around that fact that we had FOUR boys. it was then that we both looked at each other and agreed "what would we even do with a girl, we are such a boy family". nothing ever felt more right than adding talon to the mix. then i dozed off with talon tucked in right beside me. he wasn't leaving my side and luckily i had nurses that let me keep him in bed with me. i remember him waking me up in the middle of the night to eat and hardly being able to believe he was finally here. even through the exhaustion i relished every single moment. i relished being able to hold him whenever i wanted. i relished nursing him. i relished being able to sleep with him tucked in beside me. all i could think in those foggy, first hours were... "these are the moments i thank god that i'm alive. these are the moments i'll remember all my life". that song was like a distant lullaby that played in the background of my head those first days in the hospital. <br />
<br />
**********<br />
<br />
growing my children, giving birth to them, that entire experience is what it's all about, for me anyway. i would relive it every day if i could. my proudest moments. ever. end. of. story. and to experience birth after a birth surrounded in fear. to experience healthy after unhealthy. to experience that release after holding on for so long. it's profound. it changes your very being. it's fierce. literally the only and best word i know how to describe it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-n35_HpTTg0I/U2hJL-Rd-iI/AAAAAAAAFPo/wYaj1rMW_pg/s1600/photo-50.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-n35_HpTTg0I/U2hJL-Rd-iI/AAAAAAAAFPo/wYaj1rMW_pg/s1600/photo-50.PNG" height="640" width="360" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
today talon is six months old. half a year on this earth. i am finally completing his birth story. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HPlCoEW4B4Y/U2hOE5i7T6I/AAAAAAAAFQU/LY3zK5n1JiE/s1600/photo-54.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HPlCoEW4B4Y/U2hOE5i7T6I/AAAAAAAAFQU/LY3zK5n1JiE/s1600/photo-54.PNG" height="640" width="360" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
i have drowned myself in every moment with him. cried many emotional tears over the intense love that fills me up over him. given thanks a million times over him, for his health. for his calming, peaceful, joyous presence. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
*********************</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
november 4, 2013. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
the day he was born.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
we saw God that day...</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JQPIs8U9d9I/U2hEv89htNI/AAAAAAAAFO8/S55-MmbsK0Y/s1600/photo-126.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JQPIs8U9d9I/U2hEv89htNI/AAAAAAAAFO8/S55-MmbsK0Y/s1600/photo-126.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-16311121593145189182014-04-23T20:19:00.000-07:002014-04-23T20:19:04.555-07:00a post....from meee...i know. shocking.You know when you finally just say...aww F it. No one cares anyway. As each day passes and I haven't written I do the typical...tomorrow I will write. Tomorrow IS the day. The day comes and I put it off again only to realize here we are months later with no new post. AGAIN.<br />
<div>
Sort of like exercising. Only I <i>have</i> started exercising. So far...not so good but I am out there doin' the work. Now as you all know running is in my blood and the minute I put those headphones on and start to jog (and it is certainly a "jog") it's like my body goes into auto pilot, very slowwwwwww auto pilot I assure you, but I come alive. Sweat starts cleansing me from the inside out and my manic brain starts to chill a bit. With each passing mile I think of something else I want to write about. I miss it you guys. I miss my outlet. I miss hitting publish at the end of my post with that freeing feeling of having let it all hang out. The good, the bad, the ugly and the awesome. But then I say to myself but no one reads anymore because you never post...so I find something else to do with my time (and that's pretty easy these days with a 7, 6, 4 and 5 month old ;) </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But...then I get this.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
This came through my phone..............<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BSPOxSDW3sk/U1huzXjBPjI/AAAAAAAAFNc/y3dXz8Bx7Po/s1600/photo-52.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BSPOxSDW3sk/U1huzXjBPjI/AAAAAAAAFNc/y3dXz8Bx7Po/s1600/photo-52.PNG" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And here I am. I am showing up. Even when showing up is hard. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't particularly write for anyone else. I write because it's incredibly therapeutic for me, but then I read that someone can relate to our journey and it empowers me to continue on with our story. Reality is, it is far from over and far from pretty. I am back in counseling. I thought I was coping ok, but my anxiety is getting the best of me. I constantly check for Talons breathing. For Paxton's. I freak when Mason says he has a headache. I just worry all to much. There's healthy worry and then there's stopping what you are doing every 20 minutes to go stare at your kids stomach moving up and down. I have post traumatic stress disorder. I thought that shit went away after awhile. It doesn't. About two weeks ago we had to take Talon to the emergency room. A fluke, freak thing happened when I was taking him out of the bath tub. I was drying him on the floor and the boys slammed the door on the other side of the wall beside us and I guess it vibrated just so that a wooden picture fell off the wall and hit Mr. T square between the eyes. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5bhFKoaajjA/U1ht3OlK5bI/AAAAAAAAFMk/5MOq_rC0pUQ/s1600/photo-114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5bhFKoaajjA/U1ht3OlK5bI/AAAAAAAAFMk/5MOq_rC0pUQ/s1600/photo-114.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The scene that ensued was bad. I flipped out, and by flipped out I mean lost it. I knew the first 'traumatic thing to happen to Talon was going to be bad, but in hindsight I really saw the "PTSD" (and honestly I hate saying ptsd...I don't know why. It's just a title. A thing. Whatever. I digress.) Of course Talon was crying, a wooden picture nailed him just between the eyes, which in turn made his eyes bloodshot, but in my panic I swore his eyes were bleeding. I was screaming <i>"his eyes are bleeding"</i> to my husband. He, of course, kept telling me they were just bloodshot, but I couldn't see through the tears. I just saw red. I had swaddled him in his towel and was rocking him back and forth telling him how sorry I was. It's a weird feeling to think back to those 15 minutes. It was almost out of body. I literally couldn't breathe. He's ok. He was ok then I just needed to allow myself to see that.<br />
<br />
I was changing his diaper just today and wrapped it all up and set it aside. Literally a habit from four years ago. You see we used to have to weigh Paxton's diapers even through his last surgery so that we were able to monitor his fluid output. I don't um...have to do that with Talon, but old habits die hard I suppose. I was kind of stunned when I caught myself today. <br />
<br />
Life goes on though. PTSD or otherwise. I am working on working through it. I am working on redirecting my thoughts and trusting in this journey. Just as I have had to do so many times before. Talon is ok. He is healthy. I need to allow myself to believe that. Some days I just don't know how. Others I think to myself, you've so got this. I don't have control over any of my boys ultimately. I can only do what I can. I can't control when Paxton's heart is going to fail. It's going to one day. He has half a heart. One ventricle. Two chambers. Its hard to look at him and see that. It's hard to believe he's not perfectly whole and healthy. Man alive is he gorgeous. And smart and a total spitfire.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jIM9iTiM648/U1hvfhboiFI/AAAAAAAAFNo/Ufk5Qo3YX1A/s1600/photo-120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jIM9iTiM648/U1hvfhboiFI/AAAAAAAAFNo/Ufk5Qo3YX1A/s1600/photo-120.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
He's ok right now. I need to stop waiting for the bottom to fall out and enjoy the ok instead of worrying it away. And I learned, thanks to a damn good therapist, that its OK to worry. That its <i>expected </i>after everything we have been through. I find I am hard on myself about that...any other special needs mamas do this? I feel like if I just let it all go something is going to sneak up on me, much like jinxing myself, but if I stay guarded I will always be prepared. Horrible way to live right. Ain't nothin pretty about any of it, except the picture above. He is so worth it. He is worth every gray hair. Every sleepless night. Every anxiety ridden moment. I would live his journey all over again if it meant having him. I continue to live this journey for him. He is my inspiration every day. At baseball practice when he's sweating profusely with a chest guard on, wires taped to his chest and monitors hanging out his pants the kid is still smiling and not letting it stand in his way. If half the world had that outlook....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vy-MEq_hjf4/U1hxSw8zF6I/AAAAAAAAFNw/lSwgjqAocQ8/s1600/photo-121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vy-MEq_hjf4/U1hxSw8zF6I/AAAAAAAAFNw/lSwgjqAocQ8/s1600/photo-121.JPG" height="400" width="341" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So for him I will be strong. I will let him live the life he is meant to live just as I am living the life I am meant to live. It may not be easy. There are most certainly moments I crumble and panic, moments I am not all that proud of, but I am human. Sometimes I don't know what to do when I look at him and the fear takes over. I try to look down the road and my throat tightens, but then he will sass me or smile at me with those damn freckles and all is right with the world. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So here's to you New York! I am going to do my best to keep this up for ya. It helps. It feels good. Thank you for making my entire week and for motivating me to show up when I don't feel I have all that much to say...</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Talon is perfect. Quickly approaching the six month mark. Half a year here on this earth. Insane how fast time passes. Bittersweet. I love me a newborn that's for sure, but I absolutely adore the age he is at right now too. No one lights up when I walk in a room like that baby does. When you pick him up to hug him he literally wraps his arms around your neck and squeezes. My almost 6 month old gives the. BEST. hugs ever. He's like a grown up in a baby's body. A really chill, happy grown up. He's the most content little man to grace this Earth I tell you. He's 20 pounds, has two teeth, loooooves to dance, loves his mama and LOVES to eat. He's still nursing, but has started baby food, which I do NOT cook. Ain't nobody got time for that ;) He has not rolled over yet, but I am assuming his buddha belly is a bit of a roadblock in that area. In due time... All in due time. Austin, Mae and Pax ADORE him and are the best big brothers ever. Talon, #4, fits seamlessly into our lives and I couldn't be more proud. The boys played baseball this season, rocked it and have done amazing in school. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
...Life really is good...</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ICOzWri5h_E/U1ht1bp7OBI/AAAAAAAAFMY/n8fnZZAsunQ/s1600/photo-111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ICOzWri5h_E/U1ht1bp7OBI/AAAAAAAAFMY/n8fnZZAsunQ/s1600/photo-111.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C_kLJrKp4vg/U1htzF-Cz8I/AAAAAAAAFMA/Yp7NS1mCrUI/s1600/photo-109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C_kLJrKp4vg/U1htzF-Cz8I/AAAAAAAAFMA/Yp7NS1mCrUI/s1600/photo-109.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D51CDoEF4g8/U1ht3vk86MI/AAAAAAAAFNA/mZEjnjgVd1U/s1600/photo-113.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-D51CDoEF4g8/U1ht3vk86MI/AAAAAAAAFNA/mZEjnjgVd1U/s1600/photo-113.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We all have our stories that make up who we are. Our battle wounds. Our scars that show we made it. My scar is ptsd, but the <i>story</i> that led me to that is simply incredible. Maybe the conclusions are simply a reminder of just how far we have come. How brave the fight. Because how would we ever really learn to cherish the beauty in the good times without fighting like hell through the bad...</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IcEyO8lIOoo/U1hudDE91yI/AAAAAAAAFNI/D4Yzm8yAaTI/s1600/photo-118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IcEyO8lIOoo/U1hudDE91yI/AAAAAAAAFNI/D4Yzm8yAaTI/s1600/photo-118.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Until next time....</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Love and hugs</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
~j</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-86992890549698308502014-01-27T21:06:00.002-08:002014-01-27T21:20:08.530-08:00...twelve weeks...I've decided that writing is a little, no scratch that...a lot like exercising after a hiatus. It's been on my list. It's been on my mind and especially in my heart. I have been through a myriad of emotions since Talon has joined our family and I have done the opposite of what I did when Paxton was born. I found I am just unable to write. Tonight though, I think I am ready. <br />
<br />
I have four children. Four BOYS! There was so much talk of having a girl while I was pregnant, that I think I was partially brainwashed. I truly believed he was a girl until the moment I saw his boy parts to which I burst into laughter. The whole room actually erupted in laughter when we saw it was another boy. Sheer, joyous, belly laughing laughter. As he lays here beside me now I cannot imagine having a girl. Talon fits so seamlessly into our family I can barely remember life before him.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5em-8DZfEDo/UucuY2qtA2I/AAAAAAAAFIs/FOMlSV5Wu3w/s1600/photo-99.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5em-8DZfEDo/UucuY2qtA2I/AAAAAAAAFIs/FOMlSV5Wu3w/s1600/photo-99.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
*****************<br />
<br />
I remember being in the hospital drowning myself in every single moment with him.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FDufa354j0w/UucuKwQ3_YI/AAAAAAAAFHs/GSbnaXZ7dbA/s1600/photo-78.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FDufa354j0w/UucuKwQ3_YI/AAAAAAAAFHs/GSbnaXZ7dbA/s1600/photo-78.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
I remember exactly how I was feeling in this picture. It was like I couldn't get close enough to him. I could barely stand the amount of love filling me in the hours since I had met him.<br />
I did the same thing once we got him home. I would literally sit and stare and hug and kiss him allll day long. I remember holding him up to my face, tears pouring down my face as I looked up at Dave. The love for my boy was literally overwhelming. I never thought I would have another baby after Paxton. Sure as hell didn't think I was strong enough to, but I did both and there I was after 9 months of worrying if he would be healthy with a perfectly healthy little boy in my arms. The gratitude enveloped me twenty four hours a day. Almost to a fault. I never wanted to put him down or miss a single, solitary moment. I would find myself avoiding people. Avoiding life and having to leave my room because all I wanted was to spend every minute of life with my healthy baby. I eventually came to understand that because I missed so much with Paxton and had lived with that helpless feeling of not being able to hold my baby that I was clearly making up for lost time. I would look at Dave, eyes full of tears nearly every day and say "I just love him so much." It's all I knew to say. My facebook post a couple days ago said it all...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MdPMThzvtA8/Uucu88jFkMI/AAAAAAAAFJE/vkvTVtAj32E/s1600/photo-51.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MdPMThzvtA8/Uucu88jFkMI/AAAAAAAAFJE/vkvTVtAj32E/s1600/photo-51.PNG" height="640" width="360" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
It couldn't be more true. It's fierce. All consuming. You learn the hard way just how easily it can all be taken away and as I have said so many times before, it just never leaves you.<br />
<br />
<br />
****************<br />
<br />
Today Talon is already 3 months old. 12 glorious weeks ago this day, Talon graced us with his peaceful, happy, completely content presence. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lwQ39_emAOk/UucuV6jLDII/AAAAAAAAFIM/08UQBWIXW80/s1600/photo-103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lwQ39_emAOk/UucuV6jLDII/AAAAAAAAFIM/08UQBWIXW80/s1600/photo-103.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I remember it all. I have relished and savored every. single. moment with him. Even when he wakes me in the middle of the night I pick him up and immediately smother him in kisses. So so grateful for the opportunity to be with him and be able to nurse him in those foggy hours instead of being shacked up at Ronald McDonald house separated from him.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yKmVMVCYhZQ/UucwpB5hCWI/AAAAAAAAFJM/-dY3YFkHjZg/s1600/photo-104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yKmVMVCYhZQ/UucwpB5hCWI/AAAAAAAAFJM/-dY3YFkHjZg/s1600/photo-104.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I learned so much when Paxton was born and throughout his journey. The picture of Talons birth is a <i>very</i> different picture than that of Paxtons. My cup runneth over beyond anything I can describe.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3cbsUUVjS7k/Uuc5QJdvFKI/AAAAAAAAFJo/tizIVDA2cXE/s1600/photo-106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3cbsUUVjS7k/Uuc5QJdvFKI/AAAAAAAAFJo/tizIVDA2cXE/s1600/photo-106.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
And my older boys...they get to have a baby brother in the way they have always deserved. They were young when I left for months to be with Paxton, but not so young that they don't remember or weren't affected by my absence in a tremendous way. I remember praying while pregnant with Talon that they would be able to experience the gift of this sibling through childlike eyes. Not eyes that see feeding tubes, pumps, scars and heart oxygen monitors surrounding them. While they didn't know any better at the time I still prayed they would know this birth in a much less stressful state. There were days with Paxton once he was home that he would spike a fever while the boys were at school and I was gone in an instant, All Children's Hospital bound, before they even got home and I wouldn't return for weeks. It was a less than ideal situation, but this one. This one now has ALL of my boys, Paxton included, surrounding each other as brothers should be. It slays me to my core to see how much they love Talon and accept him as if they too cannot remember life before him.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-chVyCqBte9Q/UucuZePqQKI/AAAAAAAAFIo/QVowdKKuRn0/s1600/photo-97.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-chVyCqBte9Q/UucuZePqQKI/AAAAAAAAFIo/QVowdKKuRn0/s1600/photo-97.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mabFKXGg54U/UucuVd2aHtI/AAAAAAAAFII/zWqW5Tr8Z-U/s1600/photo-100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mabFKXGg54U/UucuVd2aHtI/AAAAAAAAFII/zWqW5Tr8Z-U/s1600/photo-100.JPG" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
While we don't know how Paxtons journey is going to play out. Today, for right now, we are a complete family and we have come full circle. When I think back to those lonely days at the hospital, alone by his bedside, I never in a million years would have pictured us where we are today. We have all grown so much since Paxton graced us with his pillar of strength presence. Now he gets to be the big brother he's always dreamed of and to the sweetest little man ever. I am so incredibly grateful for the gift of loving Talon through Paxton eyes. It's a different kind of love after you have watched your child cling to life on many occasions. It can be overwhelming at times, but the intensity of that love is priceless.<br />
<br />
So while it has taken me 3 months to finally hop back on that writing treadmill, I am hoping now that I have taken the plunge that I am able to continue to document our lives. This blog has proven to be a beautiful reminder of our journey and just how far we have come. Life is pretty awesome like that. Drops you to your knees and trust me, I have been there many times in the last 4 years. Begging. Sobbing. Consumed with terror. Today I am on my knees yet again, only this time it is in sheer gratitude.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6ICUEqlJwcg/Uuc2wd6LOZI/AAAAAAAAFJc/yUJyzCj8GAE/s1600/photo-105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6ICUEqlJwcg/Uuc2wd6LOZI/AAAAAAAAFJc/yUJyzCj8GAE/s1600/photo-105.JPG" height="468" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Love and Hugs</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
~J</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Talons birth story to come...</div>
It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-37422765912404003562013-11-10T18:20:00.001-08:002013-11-10T18:20:05.647-08:00Introducing...We proudly introduce to you our healthy and perfect <i>fourth</i> son.....<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Talon Michael West</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Born November 4, 2013 @ 3:02 pm</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Weighing 7lbs 6 oz. and 18 inches long </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5qVVkoq_EQ/UoA9LvNmsuI/AAAAAAAAFF4/gv2Q3fP6N6Y/s1600/photo-72.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c5qVVkoq_EQ/UoA9LvNmsuI/AAAAAAAAFF4/gv2Q3fP6N6Y/s640/photo-72.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EOU6Cypv33g/UoA9aGetNCI/AAAAAAAAFGA/4VpmvNyj5uc/s1600/photo-48.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EOU6Cypv33g/UoA9aGetNCI/AAAAAAAAFGA/4VpmvNyj5uc/s640/photo-48.PNG" width="360" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We are so, SO in love and enjoying every delicious minute of him.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O157lUTRkP0/UoA-ENxVgJI/AAAAAAAAFGI/5clp9v1VhEQ/s1600/photo-75.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O157lUTRkP0/UoA-ENxVgJI/AAAAAAAAFGI/5clp9v1VhEQ/s640/photo-75.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
His amazing birth story to come...for now I am relishing his newness and drowning myself in these most priceless moments with my boy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
love and hugs</div>
<div>
~j</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-48134401465378081632013-10-27T19:40:00.003-07:002013-10-27T19:40:38.994-07:00...the home stretch...i don't know where 38 weeks went...<br />
<br />
i literally can't wrap my head around that fact, but here we are about to have a baby. i'm not gonna lie, i am a hot freakin' mess. the emotions are in full swing and the tears even greater. the combination of excited and scared is an incredibly powerful mix. i am a control freak and i am once again, not in control. of this labor. of this baby. of my boys and their care in my absence or of my emotions (clearly). i try to stay busy, no scratch that, i AM to busy most days to spend much time dwelling on it. i am assuming that's how i made it to 38 weeks without losing my ever loving mind, but when the lights go down and i am snuggled next to my sick boy in bed or stroking masons cheek as he falls asleep i am overcome with emotion. this journey is far different than the journeys prior. i know more now. i know to much now. i miss the innocence i had before paxton and yet i cherish every single moment he has given me since. it has made every milestone so much more heightened and celebrated. like 38 weeks! 38 weeks with pax damn near landed me in a mental institution as i waited to see if he would live or die. today, i am 38 weeks of raw emotion, no doubt, but 38 weeks of healthy baby beating my bladder to hell. it's a far, far cry from 4 years ago when i could barely breathe through the fear. so i let the tears come in hot waves. i allow myself that. if i learned anything from our time in st. pete, it's that tears are the most therapeutic of things. happy, sad and everything in between. i have finally allowed myself to wash go home from the hospital clothes (one boy outfit and like 5 girl ones lol) i have allowed myself to visualize the labor. i have dreamt of what s/he will look like. i have prepared our home and the area beside my bed for a new baby. one that can come home this time. it took nearly 37 weeks to allow myself to do those things and maybe in doing so the tears are what need to follow. <br />
<br />
a very wise person in my life said this:<br />
<br />
<i>jen you have an amazing perfectly healthy baby-bouncing and pumping with 4 chambers ready to latch on -keep you up ALL night for cuddles and nursing-this baby needs nothing special-can cry ALOT without worry and it will adore its 3 amazing and entertaining brothers-it's easy. exhausting in a good way. imagine it. focus on it. it's real. it's happening soon and its going to be amazing-healthy and "normal"....</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
i took a screen shot of those words and go back to them daily as i walk the home stretch. baby is measuring 6 pounds 10 ounces and is "perfect".<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BKPRvkRqyng/Um3L6ZgEhSI/AAAAAAAAFFI/4jNSpGkQQiE/s1600/photo-70.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BKPRvkRqyng/Um3L6ZgEhSI/AAAAAAAAFFI/4jNSpGkQQiE/s640/photo-70.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PfAmSiSZBgg/Um3L54NceGI/AAAAAAAAFFA/WUpIctwxpXo/s1600/photo-71.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PfAmSiSZBgg/Um3L54NceGI/AAAAAAAAFFA/WUpIctwxpXo/s640/photo-71.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
my boys are so ready to meet their brother or sister. i was so worried about how they would handle it and its like they too, are ready to try this again.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hwY5l1o1FqQ/Um3MEDVGSoI/AAAAAAAAFFU/u8yLBGXm7tA/s1600/photo+3.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hwY5l1o1FqQ/Um3MEDVGSoI/AAAAAAAAFFU/u8yLBGXm7tA/s640/photo+3.PNG" width="360" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
our party of 5 is so full of life, loudness and laughter. soon...very soon we will be a party of 6. i am on bended knee, hot tears <i>still </i>flowing in gratitude for this<a href="http://thebestofthewests.blogspot.com/2009/11/seven-weeks-of-crazybeautiful.html" target="_blank"> crazy/beautiful</a> life of mine.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ShR908lpSPM/Um3MEeHpzFI/AAAAAAAAFFY/rq6YZh_nlaI/s1600/photo+1.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ShR908lpSPM/Um3MEeHpzFI/AAAAAAAAFFY/rq6YZh_nlaI/s640/photo+1.PNG" width="360" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
stay tuned my dear friends... s/he will be making his or her grand appearance any day now...<br />
<br />
<br />
love and hugs<br />
~jIt's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-17770137853356779242013-10-02T10:31:00.001-07:002013-10-10T13:57:34.518-07:00a 34 year old stream of consciousness (this one's for you susan ;)( remember stream of consciousness posts are just that....random thoughts strung together with a bit of pregnancy hormones thrown in for good measure ;)<br />
<br />
today i celebrate 34 years of life... i feel as though i have lived double that some days..in experience, in learning and in loving. none of which are easy. they all three take work and experience can be the hardest because a lot of times we don't ask for the experience, it's forced upon us. we fight it oh' do we fight it, but somehow always come out of it grateful just the same. i had a long talk with a very near and dear friend this fine birthday morning. she was there for austin, mason, tadem and then paxtons diagnosis, like literally right there and continues to follow us today. she just recently lost her mama. it was a long, incredibly hard battle much like paxtons and yet very different in so many ways. and yet we sat talking this morning about life. it's crystal clear clarity at times and its ever elusiveness. how we are able to look back and feel like we never really "got" life until we were forced into experience. how incredible the body and brain are when it's time to delve head on into that experience and endure it. we stand on the other side of our battles still reeling, her more so than me, but reeling just the same. because we don't forget. we don't forget how it can mold and change you in ways you never imagined. when you see life...hanging in the balance... you are never, ever the same. you find so much gratitude for the hardest of times because they do give a clarity to life that those who just haven't been there can't yet see...<br />
<br />
***************************<br />
<br />
i remember four years ago this day below.... paxton was to be born in 6 days....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z1L98YyiDHI/UkxMZT8i1FI/AAAAAAAAFDo/Bw_uLUGDw7o/s1600/IMG_4650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z1L98YyiDHI/UkxMZT8i1FI/AAAAAAAAFDo/Bw_uLUGDw7o/s640/IMG_4650.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
i cannot even begin to explain all that was going through me in the moment that this picture was taken. i now see the fear grinding through the smile. i was terrified for my unborn sons life. i was devastated to leave my boys for an unknown amount of time. i didn't know how to do "that" and i couldn't see the end....<br />
<br />
4 years later. i remember it all so clearly as if it were moments ago...and yet to really think about it seems like a dream...<br />
<br />
i am not the same person, woman or mom that i was in this picture. i am far, far more than that. i have seen heaven and i have seen hell. i never lose sight of that. on my worst days, i find the tears are tears of anger at myself because i know.... oh lord do i know what this life is all about and i don't allow myself days to wallow. i get angry if i wallow because i have seen suffering and today we are not suffering. today i am a wiser person, tougher woman and more patient mom... and as i turn 34, i give thanks for so much awesomeness in my life! i have 3 amazing little boys who are my very reason for living. they teach me every day how to live this life. they are my proudest moments and they are my biggest dream come true. all i have ever wanted to be was a mommy. its innate in me. i have known since the days of playing with my dolls and until i could have my own, i took care of others children. today i have my own and my heart couldn't be more full. our final west baby is on his or her way. s/he is big and healthy and kicking me as i type this. there again more gratitude. i am "experiencing" this pregnancy through the eyes of the new person, woman and mom that i am since paxton came along. his life "experiences" in his young four years are more than any adult should have to ever endure. his experiences became mine and together we have quite the story to tell. in a matter of weeks my heart will expand one more time and i just can't help but be filled with sentimental, bittersweet gratitude for this life i have been given. <br />
<br />
dave loves to watch cops and i lay in bed at night and watch it with him because he's the man and it's technically his remote... i prefer happier shows, but even still i watch knowing that any one of those people could have easily been me. we've all made mistakes, we've all been led down the wrong path, we've all been hurt and tried to deal with it in the most unhealthy way. it's that whole being human thing again. i don't know how HE chooses, but he chose me for this life right here right now and i am eating it up. i am savoring every delicious moment that comes my way. if the boys want to play a game, i drop everything and play a game we will.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5VyNj0xVz50/UkxSGvrN5QI/AAAAAAAAFEU/gz_mQfiNCBc/s1600/photo-66.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5VyNj0xVz50/UkxSGvrN5QI/AAAAAAAAFEU/gz_mQfiNCBc/s640/photo-66.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
you see that basket of laundry in the background...yah there's four more where that came from in the laundry room and my OCD stared at it and contemplated doing that "before playing" but i know that these moments with my boys are fleeting and lord knows the laundry ain't going anywhere so it sits and we play and i will never look back with regret... thank you "experience" for that...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z3vyAedLwnU/UkxSFYAk1iI/AAAAAAAAFEE/hpm5w0eabJA/s1600/photo-67.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z3vyAedLwnU/UkxSFYAk1iI/AAAAAAAAFEE/hpm5w0eabJA/s640/photo-67.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
for teaching me that nothing is more important that these moments right here... for teaching me the true meaning of birthdays and life and what really freaking matters!!<br />
<br />
And now I am off to pick up my babies...on my birthday...just like any other old day, but it's a damn good day because I have 3 perfect boys and one on the way. I have food on the table, a car to drive, a house to live in, amazing people in my life and a little extra change for my diet coke splurges... THAT is a damn good birthday!!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W2DUS814CPc/UkxSG5PZBVI/AAAAAAAAFEY/5L7F0F9D-nA/s1600/photo-69.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W2DUS814CPc/UkxSG5PZBVI/AAAAAAAAFEY/5L7F0F9D-nA/s640/photo-69.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">mason capturing the true essence of his mom and no i was not driving whilst on my ipad we were waiting for austin to get out of occupational therapy</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Live it up friends!!!! We only get this one life and as I say good bye to all that enveloped me four years ago today, I can say it from a shit ton of good experience, hard lessons and endless love.<br />
<br />
hugs<br />
~jIt's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-75074988473450967762013-09-22T19:55:00.001-07:002013-09-22T19:57:48.108-07:00oh hi there....i had this dream last night, that paxton was sick. he came out of a heart cath and the doctor told me it was bad and he would need a heart transplant "within the year" i remember the entire dream so vividly. i remember feeling so guilty because i had this new baby coming that i would be absent for as i tended to paxton in the hospital. i remember fearing for paxtons life just as i have so many times before, only those times were reality. it was so vivid that it still rocks me if i think about it.<br />
<br />
paxton is as healthy as an hlhs child can be...clearly....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wjDThAaK86U/Uj-mq33cuyI/AAAAAAAAFDM/vIwU0TFfyss/s1600/photo-61.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wjDThAaK86U/Uj-mq33cuyI/AAAAAAAAFDM/vIwU0TFfyss/s640/photo-61.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
but, i can say i do know where this inability to truly let go of the fear during this pregnancy comes from.... i guess maybe it's why i haven't written in months...i feel like it gets old to a lot of people to hear about it, so i stay silent...but those that have been there get that it never leaves you, this i know...<br />
<br />
i am over 8 months pregnant now. i can't say it's been a completely easy ride. i have worried, a lot. i have yet to buy anything for this child. i need to buy at the very least, a carseat, but haven't been able to bring myself. oh' don't get me wrong, i look and i dream, but the truth is i am just terrified. my dear friend and sister threw me a baby shower a couple of weeks back and the jinxer in me kept every gift receipt just in case something goes wrong. like who does that? who thinks like that? i hate that about myself. i don't want to get to the end and think... why did you worry the entire time when everything is ok, but every time i start to just let myself be ok with it all being ok, i panic and freeze up. i guess i should still be in therapy for this ptsd i carry around, but i can't even get a blog post in much these days, let alone therapy.<br />
<br />
the baby as of our last ultrasound is doing amazing. s/he is right around 4 pounds now and is as active as ever. everything to this point says all is well so i try my darndest to trust in that. we still do NOT know the sex. we do have names picked out. those, too, are being kept a secret. i lay in bed at night and dream of doing this again. i dream of doing this the right way...here at home, not tied to a hospital bed with wires and monitors and fear. i canNOT wait and canNOT believe how close we really are to meeting him or her. i am going to drown myself in every second of the beautiful journey because after all, paxtons journey, while laced with deep seeded fear, was in the end, an incredibly beautiful journey as well. so however this plays out, i will take it for what it is and give thanks. the boys are beyond excited for the baby. they say its a girl and they have also said they <i>want</i> it to be a girl "so we have a princess" (insert mommy's heart melting at their preciousness)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ITj18ObzwaU/Uj-hSclcTxI/AAAAAAAAFCE/G8ADAdeqNV4/s1600/photo-39.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ITj18ObzwaU/Uj-hSclcTxI/AAAAAAAAFCE/G8ADAdeqNV4/s640/photo-39.PNG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>...sticking his or her tongue out. so cool to see live...</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0SMaea6n4WA/Uj-hSOlMZ2I/AAAAAAAAFCA/7B49d4Sq6sg/s1600/photo-40.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0SMaea6n4WA/Uj-hSOlMZ2I/AAAAAAAAFCA/7B49d4Sq6sg/s640/photo-40.PNG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>... baby is preparing already for a house full of stinky boys...</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
******************<br />
<br />
the rest of the summer was amazing. we went back to the lake and the boys loved every memory making moment of it... they ask every other day when it will be summer again so we can go back to lake june. it's where we find our happy....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zwr8dCRir6Q/Uj-hWQpmaaI/AAAAAAAAFCQ/n3aRMAqjEoM/s1600/photo-42.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zwr8dCRir6Q/Uj-hWQpmaaI/AAAAAAAAFCQ/n3aRMAqjEoM/s640/photo-42.PNG" width="640" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SHvCgBt4Q1c/Uj-g9ZIWFeI/AAAAAAAAFBo/Y5ILVktLr1w/s1600/photo-43.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SHvCgBt4Q1c/Uj-g9ZIWFeI/AAAAAAAAFBo/Y5ILVktLr1w/s640/photo-43.PNG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
***************************</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
summer did eventually end. my mason started kindergarten!!!!! my moo moo is officially a big boy. austin is in first grade and totally rocking it out and paxie, oh paxie is in pre k 3's and LOVES it. he loves school. loves his friends, his teachers and his "girlfriend". yep you heard that right. he's starting young. the boys have each met huge milestones these past few months and i couldn't be more proud. i was at the grocery store this morning stocking up for the wolves because they NEVER stop eatinggggg and this little old lady walked by looked at my cart knowingly and said "and i bet that's just a weeks worth huh..." i said why yes, yes it is. i have three boys and they eat me out of house and home. it was clear to me she had been there done that. i was so struck by just how proud i was to announce that i have "3 boys at home". for all the mayhem and wildness they bring i was glowing with pride. each day as i watch them grow and learn and achieve things, my mommy heart continues to brim over. each one of them is a true mommy's boy and i stand in awe at the hearts ability to expand in love...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y5Z9tuTfhE8/Uj-loWsfGQI/AAAAAAAAFC4/PkDYUvTkoVM/s1600/photo-41.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y5Z9tuTfhE8/Uj-loWsfGQI/AAAAAAAAFC4/PkDYUvTkoVM/s640/photo-41.PNG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
i don't have this whole life thing figured out... we have good days and bad. we have days where we lose our temper, find ourselves in heaps of tears, rejoicing in happiness or fretting with worry. to feel all of these things is to be human. i am human. i am not able to say that i have waltzed through these last few months the way that i know i should have, but i can also look back and see that i trudged my way through hell and that doesn't leave a person unscarred. it's ok to not have it all figured out... to worry what tomorrow will bring so long as you can stand in the middle of this....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nm27HxYmd10/Uj-mtLp5O6I/AAAAAAAAFDU/eU37vKlfMms/s1600/photo-64.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nm27HxYmd10/Uj-mtLp5O6I/AAAAAAAAFDU/eU37vKlfMms/s640/photo-64.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
and know that every tear and worry and anxious moment is undoubtedly worth it... as i lay here feeling baby #4 kicking, i know that all of those tears and worries, will in the end, be worth it too...<br />
<br />
<br />
love and hugs<br />
~j<br />
<br />
ps i promise to update more as we slide into home base!!<br />
<br />It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-72683089859761460282013-07-10T19:13:00.000-07:002013-07-10T20:17:08.234-07:00a lot of you have already heard the news...so if you aren't up for more gratitude, relief and baby talk i suggest you move along ;) it's been a long 22 weeks. a long 22 weeks of worrying, panicking, second guessing, flashbacking and crying. today, however, there were a different kind of tears... today i feel like everything just might be all right. i can still hear the devil on my shoulder whispering don't get to excited or you'll jinx yourself, but i try to push him away and remember that its a proven fact that thinking positive is better for you and provides better results. <br />
<br />
we had our perinatologist visit today. we got to see our baby up close and personal and i mean every vessel, vein, ductus, aorta, archway, valve and chamber there was to see. let me tell you all the ways i have never been so happy to see four, YES FOUR, little chambers. time stopped for a moment as i laid down on that table.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AjvVKwJiqlE/Ud4JWP7FvII/AAAAAAAAFAI/-IWLqw2Nuac/s1600/photo-35.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AjvVKwJiqlE/Ud4JWP7FvII/AAAAAAAAFAI/-IWLqw2Nuac/s640/photo-35.PNG" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
i remember nearly four years ago like it was minutes ago when i laid down waiting to find out paxtons fate. it never leaves you man. i remember seeing the scarred ventricle that was never able to develop. i remember them telling me how "significant" it was. such a strong f ing word.<br />
<br />
this afternoon though, it was like the lady had been there before herself, she got it, and kept me informed of every little move she made commenting with words like "fantastic, perfect and gorgeous". i was grateful. i was proud. i kept talking to the monitor praising our baby for doing so good growing. i didn't even care how coocoo i may have seemed. i had to remind myself to breathe. but the praises just kept coming, tears started trickling and an hour of scanning later we were left alone while the doctor reviewed all that had just been recorded. i stared at the pictures of the perfect little baby that really is in my belly, because part of me still hasn't grasped that i am going to have a baby in four months. i don't know if its my way of protecting myself or if i am just to busy, but its incredibly surreal, this whole thing. the doctor came in and confirmed what we all suspected. that our baby "has normal heart structure and function". that s/he needs no further follow up and she smiled when i said so we might just get to bring our baby home right away from the hospital.... yes i suspect you might, she said. there really aren't words i can find to express just how i felt in that moment. if it happens as she suspects, it will be a far, far cry from these days...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qO-bQEOYqVg/Ud4JVtdgtBI/AAAAAAAAE_0/Od1SEMKTXoU/s1600/photo-36.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qO-bQEOYqVg/Ud4JVtdgtBI/AAAAAAAAE_0/Od1SEMKTXoU/s640/photo-36.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
so naturally we left and celebrated with food. we came home and i just wrapped myself around my boys. utterly consumed with gratitude and happiness. i laid with paxton at bedtime and just stared at him. this journey. this 3 year long journey with him was so intense and scary. currently, we seem to be on the other side of that journey. i don't know what the future holds for him, but right now he gets the normal, every day life he so desperately deserves. i laid my hand on his heart and felt it pumping knowing there's still only half of one in there amazed at him, his body, his spirit. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SM_PC8Ux8ds/Ud4JWm_jwXI/AAAAAAAAFAM/9fi2kPZX9KQ/s1600/photo-37.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SM_PC8Ux8ds/Ud4JWm_jwXI/AAAAAAAAFAM/9fi2kPZX9KQ/s640/photo-37.PNG" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
it was a weird feeling to be at the hospital he fought for his life in without him. it brought a lot back and yet it sort of made me feel like we had come full circle. we are doing this again in spite of the fear that paralyzes us, in spite of all the things that could go wrong, in spite of all we have seen. last night i cried, buckets of tears for paxton, for our new baby, for dave and i and for austin who have all been incredibly emotionally affected by these last three years. i kept saying to dave "there's so much that can go wrong" and he so eloquently said "but there's so much that can go right..."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-me-ynrrgdJI/Ud4JWNKk5OI/AAAAAAAAFAA/wmiohFs6WzY/s1600/photo-36.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-me-ynrrgdJI/Ud4JWNKk5OI/AAAAAAAAFAA/wmiohFs6WzY/s640/photo-36.PNG" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
today... today, so much went right. <br />
<br />
<br />
love and hugs to every single soul who took the time to wish us luck, pray for us and send positive thoughts our way. i read and relished every. single. one. we love you and thank you for pulling for us as we travel this very bittersweet journey again.<br />
<br />
AND NO WE DID NOT FIND OUT THE SEX!!! WE WILL NOT FIND OUT THE SEX! We will all wait until November!!! xoxo<br />
<br />
so much love tonight,<br />
~j<br />
<br />
<br />It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-12706122222836644702013-07-01T19:02:00.000-07:002013-07-01T19:02:10.904-07:00our hope...you guys....it's started. shit is getting all kinds of drudged up. we all know pregnancy can make for some crazy dreams, but these <i>nightmares </i>that are creeping in every night are horrid. paxton. it's all paxton. he codes. he dies. i can't wake him up. he's completely purple as i run him into an ER. he goes completely stiff in my arms. they rock me to my core. i think i have spent the last week in a heap of tears because i don't know how many more of these i can take. paxton is of course, beautiful and perfect and as healthy as they come for a kid with half a heart. he's OK and i have to tell myself that over and over lately. sometimes my husband has to grab my face and tell me he isn't going to die because i can't breathe through the tears. and to top it all off i can't self medicate ; ) for the most part i am doing ok with this pregnancy thing again, quite frankly i don't have time to be anything but ok. i have three wild, and by wild i do mean WILD, boys to keep me running round the clock.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yrRze9imhoU/UdIjPuUjn3I/AAAAAAAAE_A/V4O4-9OZXm4/s1600/photo-55.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yrRze9imhoU/UdIjPuUjn3I/AAAAAAAAE_A/V4O4-9OZXm4/s640/photo-55.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">...yes that is a baby snake they caught...awesome. just awesome.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
i love it. i also love that s/he kicks constantly now, a gentle reminder that s/he is ok. i need those reminders. my mind wanders. a LOT. i fake it like a hollywood actress, but inside my mind reels with the reality of all that can happen. and yet in the softening hours of the evening i have found myself wandering off to the idea of a new baby and nursing and eventually being able to set up a nursery. i won't do it before. i feel like it's a jink and besides we don't know what we are having and lord knows if it is a girl i am going to PINK the ever living hell out of that bedroom. i am officially 21 weeks.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fAcZcrItu3Y/UdIjPk9cDwI/AAAAAAAAE-4/uREiUeEVrbA/s640/photo-56.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fAcZcrItu3Y/UdIjPk9cDwI/AAAAAAAAE-4/uREiUeEVrbA/s640/photo-56.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
over the half way mark. all of our tests have come back perfect so far and we go to st. pete on july 10th for an entire cardiac workup. i am very anxious for that reassurance. i knew i was a little screwy from seeing all i have seen, but i didn't realize just how much until i got back in the drivers seat again. it brings back a lot of things i have been able to repress for awhile now. ya know...this kind of stuff...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Sa0HXCsz3B8/UdIl5_QtuuI/AAAAAAAAE_Q/HpJOtDPnVGA/s604/photo-57.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Sa0HXCsz3B8/UdIl5_QtuuI/AAAAAAAAE_Q/HpJOtDPnVGA/s640/photo-57.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
it changes you...moves your soul. terrifies your heart. so yah' doing this again is hard and scary and debilitating at times. it's also incredibly exciting and hopeful and bittersweet. in the end we got paxton. so i would do it all over again in a second and i will do it all over again with this baby if need be. <br />
<br />
***********************<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
the boys...they're amazing. they want to know how the baby is going to get out of me. i told them the doctor was going to take it out and mason says "so what...the doctor is just going to rip you open and take it out mom?" in the most nonchalant voice ever. that is when i use the art of distraction and excitedly squeal "look boys, airplane!" question averted. for the moment of course.<br />
<br />
since i last posted mason graduated vpk and is now ready for kindergarten! i just don't even know where the time went. my masey. my moo moo is now about to go out into the real world (sort of ;). i am not ready for it. i am not ready to let him go. but, off he will go. and he will no doubt do amazing along the way.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C2i0Z3OCyLs/UdIo2kwDBgI/AAAAAAAAE_g/euEAeANURco/s960/photo-34.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C2i0Z3OCyLs/UdIo2kwDBgI/AAAAAAAAE_g/euEAeANURco/s640/photo-34.PNG" width="426" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OaaP5x3oz6M/UdIjMWXWFlI/AAAAAAAAE-A/r5f0-QzJVDk/s960/photo-31.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OaaP5x3oz6M/UdIjMWXWFlI/AAAAAAAAE-A/r5f0-QzJVDk/s640/photo-31.PNG" width="426" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8lpm6PJPjFg/UdIjOAN5_8I/AAAAAAAAE-c/q63jf9TWjbQ/s1600/photo-51.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8lpm6PJPjFg/UdIjOAN5_8I/AAAAAAAAE-c/q63jf9TWjbQ/s640/photo-51.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
a little before and after for the records...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zhLaXKCuiaE/UdIjOa6IX9I/AAAAAAAAE-k/XFRCuwg978w/s1600/photo-52.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zhLaXKCuiaE/UdIjOa6IX9I/AAAAAAAAE-k/XFRCuwg978w/s640/photo-52.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
i sit here and can't picture my life four months from now with another baby in the mix and yet i look at the before and after picture above and am reminded just how quickly time flies. in the blink of an eye he or she will be here also and i will look back on this very post saying yet again...where did the time go...<br />
<br />
i will rest my head tonight and i don't know that i won't have another bad dream about losing my boy, but what i do know is i have him now and i am blessed beyond any sort of measure to have three amazing little boys who are the light of my life. its hard for me to imagine my heart expanding for another one and yet it did three times over. i can't wait to meet austin, mason and paxtons little brother or sister. i can't wait to watch them learn how to love another little person right along with me. i won't say that i haven't begged and bargained with god on a daily basis for the health of this baby because i totally have. i want even more for the boys than for me, to be able to bring a baby home in the story book fashion we all dream of. for them. for all three of them, who too, have had to figure out how to manage this journey we were placed on. the separation. the fear. the intense love. the growth. it ain't easy but i am hoping this next baby is our sunshine after the rain. our HOPE after the despair.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z7zlr-IiCzc/UdIjPJroYyI/AAAAAAAAE-8/YK0D8ihoeFg/s1600/photo-54.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z7zlr-IiCzc/UdIjPJroYyI/AAAAAAAAE-8/YK0D8ihoeFg/s640/photo-54.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EQ0Yf2L6Tcw/UdIjMXxQ3RI/AAAAAAAAE-E/vxMpPjVw_FQ/s960/photo-32.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EQ0Yf2L6Tcw/UdIjMXxQ3RI/AAAAAAAAE-E/vxMpPjVw_FQ/s640/photo-32.PNG" width="426" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
love and hugs~</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
j</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
and because this boy continually steals my heart . my golden boy. my mini me.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OuSVxgf3n-E/UdIjO3sIb-I/AAAAAAAAE-s/E8W8uLjm4T4/s1600/photo-53.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OuSVxgf3n-E/UdIjO3sIb-I/AAAAAAAAE-s/E8W8uLjm4T4/s640/photo-53.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">on the back of my seat. in pen. right before we try to sell it. but how can i be mad. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-47220241183164944122013-05-16T09:00:00.002-07:002013-05-16T09:38:19.332-07:00...courage...there are moments in life when it hits me...i begin to wonder how i can have another child. have another part of my heart walking around outside my body. i love my boys with such a fierce intensity that at times, it scares me. i never want them to hurt or feel pain, be sad or embarrassed, but that is not reality and yesterday through both mine and masons thick tears i was reminded that there is only so much i can do...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V_2wMLPBkJg/UZT3HYnA4YI/AAAAAAAAE88/68_TMm4yUs4/s1600/photo-28.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V_2wMLPBkJg/UZT3HYnA4YI/AAAAAAAAE88/68_TMm4yUs4/s640/photo-28.PNG" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
i would say mason had his first encounter with true embarrassment yesterday. his personality doesn't have a whole lot of room for that. he's my outgoing, funny, strong boy. he's like a duck, shit just rolls off his back. i kind of envy that about him actually. but yesterday there came a moment when the world continued on while mason and i sat in the hallway at school, him clutching me, big alligator tears staining his cheeks and me unable to talk because if i uttered a single word my tears would match his. my heart hurt for him. i wanted to curl him into my arms and take him home where all is right with the world. where "safe" remains. but as his mother i knew i could not do that. i knew as heartwrenching as it was in that moment that i had to teach him how to continue on in the face of embarrassment or fear or whatever the case may be in the future. with a little help, he was peeled off of me, tears now streaming my face as i looked to his teacher for the strength i was clearly lacking. i kissed him hard and left. i felt like i had abandoned him when he needed me. so, i walked to my car and cried a thousand tears. tears that i can't always protect him. tears that he will grow up and encounter all of the things i so desperately want to protect him from. tears that all of my children will encounter these things. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e1NkwBe_SvE/UZT2pLcczLI/AAAAAAAAE8M/9OejJrlUiLk/s1600/photo-46.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e1NkwBe_SvE/UZT2pLcczLI/AAAAAAAAE8M/9OejJrlUiLk/s640/photo-46.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
when i am not sobbing, logically i know that encountering and enduring the tough times are what will help to shape my children into the adults they are meant to become. rationally i know that i myself, encountered all of these things too and i am ok. they will be OK. and you know what.... he was ok too. i picked him up and my old mason had returned. our tears had dried and together we tucked a life lesson in our pockets. mase got a little bit stronger and more resilient. i, stronger also for leaving my heart there outside my body, crying, to work through life on his own... we both DID. IT.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4shSq8MuiF0/UZT2tclv2uI/AAAAAAAAE8w/QlBgLcNyyqk/s1600/photo-50.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4shSq8MuiF0/UZT2tclv2uI/AAAAAAAAE8w/QlBgLcNyyqk/s640/photo-50.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
this is the first of many of these moments, of that i am positive. i know there will be days that i don't stand my ground, days where i pick them up and bring them home to safety, and that's ok too, but now i know i can do both. i can't always protect them. i know that my golden boy gets asked about his "white eye" all the time and i have prepared him with his answer to those questions. there are days he gets made fun of for his white eye when he comes home and tells me "nobody likes my birth mark". oh' how i hurt for him, but i also know that down the road the ladies will eat him alive over it and it is my job to teach him how to own it in the mean time.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AvwBsvW1xo0/UZT2tTgGqrI/AAAAAAAAE8o/ttNM-TvsRhs/s1600/photo-49.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AvwBsvW1xo0/UZT2tTgGqrI/AAAAAAAAE8o/ttNM-TvsRhs/s640/photo-49.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
i know my sister cried buckets of tears over the acne she once had. i hurt for her. hurt that i couldn't take that away. dad and i wanted to go bust up some middle school kids for ever causing one tear to fall from her eyes, but again, that was not reality and we didn't think jail was a good idea either, but today...well today she is gorgeous and no worse for the wear. she made it through those tough times stronger than she would have ever been had she not had those moments.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kkUIuax1qKM/UZT2tFOztKI/AAAAAAAAE8k/RRhGHgLocmk/s1600/photo-48.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kkUIuax1qKM/UZT2tFOztKI/AAAAAAAAE8k/RRhGHgLocmk/s640/photo-48.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">yes that is my tiny baby bump... west baby #4 continues to do well!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
tis life man. and sometimes life sucks, but in all of those sucky moments there is a lesson to be learned and strength to be gained. in the meantime i eat up the effortless moments. the ones that don't consume us with tears. the ones full of smiles and laughter and i stock pile them for the ones that aren't so easy.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f-x-XuwAqk8/UZT2qjliQ9I/AAAAAAAAE8c/j1gasD8bdbg/s1600/photo-47.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f-x-XuwAqk8/UZT2qjliQ9I/AAAAAAAAE8c/j1gasD8bdbg/s640/photo-47.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
being a mommy is hard work. the hardest of work i personally think there is. we are in charge of little lives, keeping them safe and teaching them how to navigate this big bad world all while having this intense love and attachment to them. there are days i think back to my prechildren days. it was true freedom. i didn't spend my days, nights and everything in between worrying, feeling and thinking about anything like i have ever done with my children. i eat, sleep and breathe them. as it should be, but i did not realize then the true freedom that i had. and i don't mean freedom to party and play, cause i totally never did that...ahem... i'm talking about emotional freedom. i will never have that emotional freedom again nor do i want it, however i realized yesterday i do kinda wish i had relished it a little more when i had it. i pray that my boys will always be strong, resilient and brave. i pray that i am able to teach them these things. i think of my mom who wasn't really around and i can't fathom the ability to willingly not be around to watch your child grow up ... i would do anything for my children, even leave them standing in a classroom crying, to teach them how to continue on in the face of adversity.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GDxYJh2sSRc/UZT2ms5iumI/AAAAAAAAE7s/1QAXMN5KWi4/s1600/photo-25.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GDxYJh2sSRc/UZT2ms5iumI/AAAAAAAAE7s/1QAXMN5KWi4/s640/photo-25.PNG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
i love you mason, austin and paxton more than you will ever know!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qt3PwOS3m6g/UZT2nUwT8-I/AAAAAAAAE70/uIj46OuOfR0/s1600/photo-44.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qt3PwOS3m6g/UZT2nUwT8-I/AAAAAAAAE70/uIj46OuOfR0/s400/photo-44.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
love and hugs,<br />
~jIt's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-84076733919862032762013-04-22T17:05:00.001-07:002013-04-22T17:05:37.085-07:00our hearts...i was doing laundry today... you know carrying on in the aftermath of tragedy... listening to the news in the background as i went about. feeling guilty, my heart hurting for all of those still rocked to their cores while i did menial, yet necessary things like grocery shop and laundry. i have tried to write since last monday and never made it to completion because emotions overwhelmed me. i have gone a little bat shit crazy making ADT come out to recheck every square inch of our home for safety and updating all of our pertinent information. none of which will do any good if something is meant to happen and none of which will do any good if i am say at a concert and someone else decides to do what they did last monday. the illusion of control, just as it is with paxton, is just that... an illusion. i hate it. God i hate it. i am such a control freak and yet the reality is i actually have very little. i won't lie i am, just as so many of you are, terrified. scared for my babies future. doubting bringing another little into this world that can be downright cruel and terrifying. i try every day to protect them for as long as i can from what goes on out there. i get most of my information from reading so as not to have it on tv for them to see or overhear. i turn off lion king when the dad dies right in front of simbas eyes. i still spell out d-i-e when talking in front of them. i do sugarcoat many things to protect them from the reality of life. some people may think that is wrong and that's ok, to each his own right. as someone who saw far to much at far to young of an age i choose to raise my boys this way. i personally don't think a 5 and 6 year old needs to inundated with to much information. i let just let them be little while they can. if something happens that requires a more in depth conversation then i will do that, but for now they rest their heads at night dreaming of monster trucks and beach days.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bRwjnUCJDn0/UXXNy9v8haI/AAAAAAAAE6s/zfVAb8uMyog/s1600/photo-27.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bRwjnUCJDn0/UXXNy9v8haI/AAAAAAAAE6s/zfVAb8uMyog/s640/photo-27.PNG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
i know that i can't fully "protect" them from life. it may be the single hardest part of parenting. don't think my dad and i didn't have a talk on the phone last monday night about moving to the middle of cow country in west virginia where no one knows our name. it seemed like a mighty fine idea, but it's also not reality. as much as i would be fine with hiding from life, it would not be fair to my children. just as letting paxton live is hard for me to do, it is no different with my older boys. i want to shelter them forever, but i want them to be happy more. so i let them go...i let them live and every day that i take one more glance at this...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-utvoeS-dYig/UXXNx7Rm9WI/AAAAAAAAE6k/vvjK4SZ7jc4/s1600/photo-42.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-utvoeS-dYig/UXXNx7Rm9WI/AAAAAAAAE6k/vvjK4SZ7jc4/s640/photo-42.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
i pray with everything that i have that they will be ok. it's all i can do. i have to "trust in the journey". bad things happen to good people, of this i know. i also know there are far more good people than bad. i focus on that. i focus on the good and the kind. and i try to be those things too. <br />
<br />
my heart goes out to everyone affected by the happenings in boston last week. i think of you daily. and pray for your peace. <br />
<br />
love and hugs<br />
~jIt's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8030614139395439603.post-41586605013032260282013-04-02T09:59:00.000-07:002013-04-02T09:59:04.976-07:00you're gonna want to read this...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">i wrote <a href="http://thebestofthewests.blogspot.com/2012/11/houstonwe-have-situation.html" target="_blank">this</a> post several months back. today we stand on the other side of it. NASA did some repair work. went where no man has gone before and we can now add another been there, conquered that to our ever growing list in the recent years. sure doesn't mean we are done fighting the good fight because the work relationships require never ceases. especially those that have been where we have. but life knows what it's doing sometimes. i have learned this before and still manage to forget. but... in the words of the byrds there is always:</span><br />
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">A time to build up, a time to break down</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">A time to dance, a time to mourn</span></span></i></span><br />
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">A time to cast away stones</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">A time to gather stones together</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">To everything - turn, turn, turn</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">There is a season - turn, turn, turn</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">And a time for every purpose under heaven</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">A time of war, a time of peace</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">A time of love, a time of hate</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">A time you may embrace</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">A time to refrain from embracing</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">To everything - turn, turn, turn</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">There is a season - turn, turn, turn</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">And a time for every purpose under heaven</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">A time to gain, a time to lose</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">A time to rend, a time to sew</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">A time to love, a time to hate</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">A time of peace,<b> I swear it's not too late!</b></span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b><br /></b></span></span></i>
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YkOJCu0JTk4/UVo8lO93F4I/AAAAAAAAE5s/X_zrUUYdDLA/s1600/photo-26.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YkOJCu0JTk4/UVo8lO93F4I/AAAAAAAAE5s/X_zrUUYdDLA/s400/photo-26.PNG" width="266" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19px;"><b><br /></b></span></span></i></div>
</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px;"><i><b><br /></b></i></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19px;">oh yes...life is good like that. it knows exactly what it is doing even when we are swarming with doubt. and i swarm. daily. sometimes hourly. but then i stop... and i look at what i have been given and i don't doubt anymore even if it is only for a few moments. it is in those moments that i know, i just know that no matter how our cards play out that it will be ok...</span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">" everything will be okay in the end and if its not okay... it's not the end." <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">~</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px;">john lennon</span></i></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19px;">i believe this. i really do. for all the doubts i have i do believe this. which leads me to my next topic...</span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19px;">it seems the universe finds me fit to raise four children. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">yes! you read that correctly. i am pregnant.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">no, we did not plan this. life planned this. i have been waxing and waning between sheer joy and sheer terror. not because i don't think i can handle another baby. babies are easy and whats one more body to change and feed at this point. i've got it down to a science really. it's that i have seen to much. i know to much. i miss the oblivious days of pregnancy with austin. he was my first. i hadn't second trimester miscarried yet, i hadn't delivered a baby with half of a heart. lived in a hospital with him and watched him cling to life. i hadn't yet ever dropped to my knees in a desperation i can never describe begging god to save my baby. i hadn't stood in a hospital doorway watching nurses and doctors run with the code cart to try and save another baby fighting for its life. i hadn't sat bedside with my own child while the one beside him was only alive because ECMO was allowing that to happen. i have been exposed. we all are to some degree i suppose, but unless you have spent time there i don't know that anyone can truly grasp it. i have said before, i think it should be a requirement that every person spend time in a childrens hospital. i guarantee you it would be a much softer world. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">and yet for all of the fear that comes from seeing to much comes the very opposite. this will be different than any of the boys. i am changed in ways i never would have asked for and ways i wouldn't trade for anything. this baby...oh how s/he will be cherished. every little moment will be cherished plain and simple. i pray with all that i have that our baby will be healthy. i pray for middle of the night feedings with no feed pumps and heart/oxygen monitors. i pray i can nurse in bed and snuggle in the morning. i pray that i will be blessed to know what it is like to bring home a baby as the new person paxton made me into. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">and for the record...should this baby have special needs i will embrace that with everything i have just the same.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19px;">i never thought i would do this again, but here i am two months pregnant. we have seen the heartbeat. s/he is alive and well at this point. the few people that know have wrapped me in love and support. they wash away my worries and for that i am so very thankful. i know i will have ups and downs as i travel this pregnancy path again, but i know i will be okay because it's not the end...it's just the beginning.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-epekOACtv7g/UVo8iyYKufI/AAAAAAAAE5k/EVi7XYduI6A/s1600/photo-41.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-epekOACtv7g/UVo8iyYKufI/AAAAAAAAE5k/EVi7XYduI6A/s400/photo-41.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">i can't wait to add one more to this trio...</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OfO3vXrpD2w/UVsLk5b8EyI/AAAAAAAAE6M/4lLAk26qJgg/s1600/photo-274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OfO3vXrpD2w/UVsLk5b8EyI/AAAAAAAAE6M/4lLAk26qJgg/s400/photo-274.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span id="goog_2056254436"></span><span id="goog_2056254437"></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">much love</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">~j</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">ps~ no we will not be finding out the sex just as we chose not to with austin, mason (or pax until we found out he was sick at 32 weeks) please join us in praying for this baby!</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></div>
It's The Little Things...http://www.blogger.com/profile/14909869240680913178noreply@blogger.com5