Friday, March 26, 2021
Always With Us
Last week, I was talking with a friend who had lost a baby boy early on in her pregnancy. Her other children still pray for this little baby and talk of him often. For Valentine's Day, one of her daughters sent a balloon up into the sky as a message for her little brother. A few days later, a totally different sparkly, star-shaped balloon just happened to land right outside the daugther's window. Both the daughter and my friend saw this as a message from their beloved baby, letting him know he received their love when they sent that balloon up into the sky. When I hear about people having experiences like this, I long to have one of my own with my Tom. I told my friend this, and she said, "When these things happen to you, label them, recognize them, and then they'll happen to you more often."
At Tom’s funeral, Bishop Andersen told my kids to think of Tom whenever they saw an airplane, and that would mean he was near. Airplanes (vintage ones like in the pic above), have since been our way to symbolize him and to represent him in pictures. On Tuesday I was driving in my neighborhood past the park when I saw a large, vintage toy airplane just sitting on the table, facing the street. There were no kids at the park, and it appeared to have been left behind by someone. Because my friend's balloon story was fresh in my mind, I knew it was a little gift to me from Tom, telling me he was near.
Last night we played at the park, and I noticed the toy plane was still there. A boy that was also playing at the park picked it up and started playing with it. I assumed it must be his, and watched him with it for a few minutes. He was kind of rough with it, even throwing it on the ground a few times. My heart didn't like that! The boy left the park, leaving the airplane behind. It wasn't his after all! I told myself that if the airplane was still there today that I would pick it up and keep it. Sure enough, after picking up Remi from school, I saw the airplane. It was once again placed perfectly on the table, facing the street, as if it was just waiting for me. I took it home.
I'm labeling this as a message from my boy. I know he is near us and I know he's watching out for us. I can't wait to be with him again. Until that time I'll gladly accept these little messages from him.
Wednesday, February 12, 2020
Tom
Monday morning, November 11 (Veteran's Day), I had an unusual amount of energy. I was 37 weeks and 5 days pregnant with sweet baby #6, whose name was still a little undecided. I washed all of his clothes, swaddling blankets, and prepared the stuff I would need by my bedside once he arrived. Was this burst of energy a sign of labor to come? My c-section was scheduled for the following Wednesday, November 20, but this pregnancy had been particularly long and mentally tough and I was fatter than ever and so so so so tired. Maybe he was going to come sooner than planned!
Fast forward to around 5 p.m. I had gotten in the bath, and after lying there for a while realized I hadn't felt Tom kick in quite some time. I tried to remember when exactly I had felt him kick last, and I couldn't. I had been so busy all day that I hadn't realized if he was still or not. I was pretty sure he was active in my belly the night before, which was Sam's birthday. Brian and Scottee braved Mollie's pink eye contagion and came to celebrate with us. We all played a home-made game that Sam had invented. I am pretty sure I felt Tom kicking then.
It was now around 8:00 on Monday night. I wasn't worried that I hadn't felt any movement, but I did mention it to Devin. This was my 6th pregnancy, and with each baby I've experienced that panicked feeling that I hadn't felt them move in a while, but they always eventually did. I am healthy. My babies are healthy. The only thing "wrong" with my pregnancies is the obscene amount of weight I gain each time, which doesn't hurt me or the baby, just my pride. We had just had an ultrasound the week before, and I saw that everything was ship-shape. Tom was already measuring at over 8 lbs!! I heard his beautifully strong heartbeat loud and clear and saw his heart pumping blood. Liv and Remi were in the ultrasound room with me, eating apples and getting ridiculously sticky. Liv started giggling when she heard Tom's heartbeat and imitated the "bump bump bump" noise.
I started googling "reduction in fetal movement at 38 weeks" on my phone. I read some scary stuff but didn't give it a second thought. I read other things that said no fetal movement could mean the baby is engaged and preparing for labor. I told Devin and he agreed, this could be happening tonight, you never know! We enjoyed that thought for a few minutes, then I told Devin to come over to me and try to get the baby to move. Devin blew raspberries on my belly for a good 90 seconds. Nothing. He yelled in a deep, deep voice into my belly. "Hello in there, this is your father!" Devin thought he was pretty funny. I was texting with Michelle off and on during this time, and still not feeling too concerned.
I played music up against my belly as loud as my phone volume would go. Nothing. I drank a soda. Nothing. I downed a few pieces of the kids' leftover Halloween candy. Still nothing. By this time it was about 10:30 p.m., and I said to Dev, "Well, I either need to go to the hospital or go to bed." I can still hear Devin's exact tone in my head. "I'm sure he's fine."
I decided to go to bed and I felt complete peace about that decision. Looking back I realize that by that point my little Tom was already gone.
During my usual 1 to 2 bathroom breaks in the night, I didn't feel any movement from my belly. I was half asleep but I do remember that. By the time bathroom break #3 rolled around it was 5 a.m. I thought that maybe if I ate something it would alert sweet baby boy that the day was starting and he would wake up. I downed a piece and a half of leftover Barro's pizza and waited for a minute. Still nothing. I put on a bra and some shoes and told Devin I was heading to the E.R.
On the 15 minute drive to the hospital, I kept telling myself, "If he moves now I will just turn around." Then I'd think,"Well, even if he moves I should still have him checked out." After all, he was my most active baby. I had even told an ultrasound tech about a month earlier that I never had to worry about this baby's movements because he was always kicking. Just among the many sentences that I will remember forever.
I checked in to the hospital and nonchalantly gave all my info, the reason I was there, and signed all the necessary paperwork. They put me into a room and into a gown. The one they gave me was too small (go figure. I had only gained 85 lbs.), so I then changed into one that could have fit about five pregnant people all at once. The nurse came in and hooked me up to a monitor, and we were chit-chatting about baby's movements. I told her I hadn't felt him all day yesterday, and not at all during the night. She said to me, "You didn't feel him in the night? Weren't you sleeping?" Yeah, I thought that was jerky of her to say, too. I probably too snarkily responded, "I just have to go with my gut."
She hooked me up to the doppler and started moving it around. I still was not worried until I heard the absence of that strong heartbeat I had heard 7 days before. The nurse moved the doppler all around, and the tears started rolling down my cheeks. She kept checking and checking. After a few minutes she said she had thought she heard a heartbeat down near the bottom right side of my belly. She called for a doctor with a portable ultrasound machine to come check me out. He did, and we still heard nothing. I knew which part was Tom's heart on the ultrasound screen, and I saw that it was still. The part that bugs me about this whole experience is that neither the nurse nor the doctor said what I already knew was true. The doctor just kept moving the ultrasound wand around my belly, silently. I finally had to ask, "Is he dead?" The doctor said, "I'm sorry, sweetie, there's no heartbeat."
I texted Devin to come right away. The nurse and the doctor (who by the way was NOT my beloved Dr. Erickson, just some random guy who didn't have the courage to tell me my baby had died) left the room. I was a constant stream of tears. I could hear a woman a few feet away from me, moaning during her labor pains. A random nurse came in and asked if she could hug me. I said yes when I really wanted to say no. She started crying and I just wanted her off me. I told her I wanted to be alone and thankfully she left.
Devin arrived and we cried and cried.
Dr. Erickson came in the room and cried with us. He said sadly this kind of thing happens sometimes with zero cause. He said we would know more once the baby was out, and hopefully would get some answers.
Because of my 5 a.m. Barro's fest, I couldn't have the c-section until that afternoon. Devin went back home to tend to the kids (Brenda had been there watching them). I know I had a lot of visitors in between this time, at least I think I did. I know for sure that Scottee was there. She cried with me and I was so grateful for her presence, because she of all people knew the pain I was going through. I was having contractions, and they were tricking me into thinking that Tom was moving. Maybe they were wrong! Maybe he was still alive?
It was finally time to deliver Tom. Devin was back with me. They took me down to the O.R., which is never my favorite room to go into anyway, and I started to lose it. The anesthesiologist was trying to do my spinal, but I was crying and shaking. The spinal is always my biggest hurdle to get over during my c-sections. The thought of the needle in my back gives me major anxiety, but it is always worth it because my babies are born just a few minutes later. But this time, this time was not worth it. It finally hit me that I was going through all this hell and I would not get my prize at the end. They were going to take my baby out and he was going to be dead.
When they were testing to see if my legs were numb yet, I could still feel everything. The spinal wasn't working as it normally did, and I attributed that to my shaking while the Dr. was trying to administer it. They said they would have to re-do the spinal, and I remember saying, "Come on!" They also said I had the option to be put to sleep, but that I wouldn't remember anything about the birth. I was quiet for a few seconds while I decided, then I told them to just put me to sleep. I am so grateful for how this worked out, because looking back, I don't think I could handle the absence of Tom's cry as he was born. I am so grateful the spinal didn't work.
And now for the part I have been dreading writing down.
I woke up in the same hospital room I was in before the surgery. Devin said, "Here he is," and handed me our lifeless newborn baby.
In the past 2 months I have read every stillbirth story a google search would give me. Most of the mothers described the time spent holding their dead babies as peaceful, even sacred. I wish I had those feelings.
Holding Tom felt foreign. I didn't want to hold him.
He was wrapped up in one of those generic pink and blue pinstriped blankets. The same ones I had previously wrapped 5 of my warm, healthy newborns in. I looked him over. Tons of darling, curly hair. I knew he was going to have lots of hair because a)heartburn and b)Dr. Erickson had pointed out little white tufts of hair in an ultrasound around 25 or 30 weeks. Tom had the signature Barry nose. He had round, puffy cheeks and the most perfect, beautiful little lips. He did not look shriveled or abnormal at all. There was zero sign that he was not living, except that he was perfectly still. At some point the nurses took him from me, maybe to stamp his footprint. I was looking over at the nurse handling Tom, and she said, "Look, I want to show you something." She pointed to a little blister on Tom's ankle. She said, "you have to be careful when you handle him because his skin can rub off." Those words did it. I couldn't snuggle my boy or take care of him because I could damage him. His little body was starting to decompose. If I felt stiff and awkward before, it was tenfold when she handed him back to me.
Someone had gone to our house and picked out an outfit to dress Tom in (Michelle, I think?). Devin and I unwrapped the striped blanket and started to dress Tom. I was so worried about damaging his little body that I couldn't bear stuffing his arms and legs into the outfit after it proved difficult to force them through. I started to cry when I couldn't get him dressed, and we decided to just wrap him in a swaddling blanket I had recently bought and washed for him just the day before.
Visitors started arriving. I was happy for the excuse to hand Tom over to others because it was so terrible holding him. My parents were there, Devin's parents were there, Scottee and Oaklee, Becca, and it's possible that others were there too. Selena was there, documenting the whole thing. She was one of the first people I had texted after I found out Tom had died, because I knew there was only one chance to get perfect pictures of him, and no one else but Selena could achieve that.
Devin left to pick up the big kids. They went to school thinking the baby was coming early. It broke my heart knowing that Devin had to tell them that the long-awaited baby brother wouldn't be coming home. When Sam, Mollie and Tay came into my hospital room, they all 3 analyzed my face, and I could tell they were waiting to decide how they were feeling until they figured out how I was feeling. Sam and Taylor held Tom, but Mollie didn't want to. Mollie is most similar to my personality, so I totally understood how she felt.
After everyone had gone home and someone took the kids back to our house, Devin and I were left in the room with Tom. We took turns holding him and looked him over a few more times. I kissed his little cheek and noticed that it was starting to feel cool. And then I knew I was ready to be done holding him. I did not want to hold him cold. Babies are not supposed to be cold.
The nurses came and took Tom away. Devin stayed a long time, then went home to take care of the kids. And then it was just me.
The next day or so spent in the hospital was my personal ground zero. I was sitting there with no purpose, not taking care of Tom, not taking care of my other kids either. I heard a woman give birth in the next room and ached with jealousy. I sobbed shamelessly in front of all the nurses that were caring for me. One moment I distinctly remember, was hugging a sweet British nurse. We cried together and she rubbed my back. Another nurse later told me that the British nurse had lost 2 babies of her own, and was never able to have any more. She understood.
Leaving the hospital the next day empty-handed was devastating. My nurse-friend Erin, who has been my nurse with 2 or 3 of my other babies, wheeled me out to Devin's truck. I couldn't stop sobbing and I know I was making a scene. I remember having to take a break in one of the hallways before we reached the exit, clinging to the wall and sobbing and sobbing. And then I went home without Tom.
** ** ** ** ** **
Today marks 3 months since Tom was delivered with no heartbeat. This has been the hardest thing I (and Devin) have ever had to live through. I have learned so much about myself in these past months. I've learned so much about the people around me, and I've learned so much about God.
1. Sisterhood
The sisterhood that enveloped me after Tom's passing was something that has changed me. My sisters by blood, my sisters by marriage, and my sisters by choice all wrapped their arms around me and literally shared my burden. Anything I could write here wouldn't even begin to show what was done for me and the love that kept me from imploding. That's another post for another time.
2. Marriage
Devin and I HATE online PDA, but here I go. Devin Barry is the world's best man. I knew he was great and I knew I was blessed to have him, but the way he stepped up and took care of all the details, when he himself was also grieving, is something that has changed him in my eyes and changed our relationship. Marriage truly is a gift from God and I'm so glad I've got Devin.
3. My Heavenly Father
I find it to be no small gift that I am not angry about Tom passing away. I am not happy about it, and frankly bugged, but I really don't need to know why this happened. Honestly, the only feeling I have about the whole thing, is that I just want Tom here with me.
I know people lose their faith over things much less than the passing of a child. I know that loss and pain can cause anger and bitterness. But I also know in whom I trust. God has never let me down, not once. When the nurse struggled to find Tom's heartbeat during that first run-over with the doppler, I was pleading in my heart, "Please please please let him be ok!" But he wasn't. My prayer was not answered, but I do not feel forsaken.
Here's what I've figured out about my faith and about faith in general. Every prayer that I say, every time I open my scriptures, every time I go to church, and every time I go to the temple to learn about my Savior, I am creating a link between Him and me. I almost picture long strings, going between myself and Heavenly Father. Each time I do one of those things, I am creating a string, another link between the 2 of us. Each time I feel the nudging of the Holy Spirit or feel God's love, He is creating a string back to me. Years and years of creating these strings back and forth has created a big spiderweb-like net that caught me as I was and still am in the depths of sorrow. When I fell, that is what caught me. Having faith is an investment and it takes effort, but without it I would be lost.
I know that Tom's passing is for a purpose, but I don't think I'm going to be able to the one of those people that says they are grateful for their trials. I will never be grateful for my perfect boy dying. But I do know that my favorite verse (Romans 8:28) is still absolute truth. I know without a doubt that I will see Tom again and that our reunion will be too sweet for words. Devin has already figured out what he's going to say to Tom when we see him again. He just said he's going to say, "Dude, what the heck??!"
Fast forward to around 5 p.m. I had gotten in the bath, and after lying there for a while realized I hadn't felt Tom kick in quite some time. I tried to remember when exactly I had felt him kick last, and I couldn't. I had been so busy all day that I hadn't realized if he was still or not. I was pretty sure he was active in my belly the night before, which was Sam's birthday. Brian and Scottee braved Mollie's pink eye contagion and came to celebrate with us. We all played a home-made game that Sam had invented. I am pretty sure I felt Tom kicking then.
It was now around 8:00 on Monday night. I wasn't worried that I hadn't felt any movement, but I did mention it to Devin. This was my 6th pregnancy, and with each baby I've experienced that panicked feeling that I hadn't felt them move in a while, but they always eventually did. I am healthy. My babies are healthy. The only thing "wrong" with my pregnancies is the obscene amount of weight I gain each time, which doesn't hurt me or the baby, just my pride. We had just had an ultrasound the week before, and I saw that everything was ship-shape. Tom was already measuring at over 8 lbs!! I heard his beautifully strong heartbeat loud and clear and saw his heart pumping blood. Liv and Remi were in the ultrasound room with me, eating apples and getting ridiculously sticky. Liv started giggling when she heard Tom's heartbeat and imitated the "bump bump bump" noise.
I started googling "reduction in fetal movement at 38 weeks" on my phone. I read some scary stuff but didn't give it a second thought. I read other things that said no fetal movement could mean the baby is engaged and preparing for labor. I told Devin and he agreed, this could be happening tonight, you never know! We enjoyed that thought for a few minutes, then I told Devin to come over to me and try to get the baby to move. Devin blew raspberries on my belly for a good 90 seconds. Nothing. He yelled in a deep, deep voice into my belly. "Hello in there, this is your father!" Devin thought he was pretty funny. I was texting with Michelle off and on during this time, and still not feeling too concerned.
I played music up against my belly as loud as my phone volume would go. Nothing. I drank a soda. Nothing. I downed a few pieces of the kids' leftover Halloween candy. Still nothing. By this time it was about 10:30 p.m., and I said to Dev, "Well, I either need to go to the hospital or go to bed." I can still hear Devin's exact tone in my head. "I'm sure he's fine."
I decided to go to bed and I felt complete peace about that decision. Looking back I realize that by that point my little Tom was already gone.
During my usual 1 to 2 bathroom breaks in the night, I didn't feel any movement from my belly. I was half asleep but I do remember that. By the time bathroom break #3 rolled around it was 5 a.m. I thought that maybe if I ate something it would alert sweet baby boy that the day was starting and he would wake up. I downed a piece and a half of leftover Barro's pizza and waited for a minute. Still nothing. I put on a bra and some shoes and told Devin I was heading to the E.R.
On the 15 minute drive to the hospital, I kept telling myself, "If he moves now I will just turn around." Then I'd think,"Well, even if he moves I should still have him checked out." After all, he was my most active baby. I had even told an ultrasound tech about a month earlier that I never had to worry about this baby's movements because he was always kicking. Just among the many sentences that I will remember forever.
I checked in to the hospital and nonchalantly gave all my info, the reason I was there, and signed all the necessary paperwork. They put me into a room and into a gown. The one they gave me was too small (go figure. I had only gained 85 lbs.), so I then changed into one that could have fit about five pregnant people all at once. The nurse came in and hooked me up to a monitor, and we were chit-chatting about baby's movements. I told her I hadn't felt him all day yesterday, and not at all during the night. She said to me, "You didn't feel him in the night? Weren't you sleeping?" Yeah, I thought that was jerky of her to say, too. I probably too snarkily responded, "I just have to go with my gut."
She hooked me up to the doppler and started moving it around. I still was not worried until I heard the absence of that strong heartbeat I had heard 7 days before. The nurse moved the doppler all around, and the tears started rolling down my cheeks. She kept checking and checking. After a few minutes she said she had thought she heard a heartbeat down near the bottom right side of my belly. She called for a doctor with a portable ultrasound machine to come check me out. He did, and we still heard nothing. I knew which part was Tom's heart on the ultrasound screen, and I saw that it was still. The part that bugs me about this whole experience is that neither the nurse nor the doctor said what I already knew was true. The doctor just kept moving the ultrasound wand around my belly, silently. I finally had to ask, "Is he dead?" The doctor said, "I'm sorry, sweetie, there's no heartbeat."
I texted Devin to come right away. The nurse and the doctor (who by the way was NOT my beloved Dr. Erickson, just some random guy who didn't have the courage to tell me my baby had died) left the room. I was a constant stream of tears. I could hear a woman a few feet away from me, moaning during her labor pains. A random nurse came in and asked if she could hug me. I said yes when I really wanted to say no. She started crying and I just wanted her off me. I told her I wanted to be alone and thankfully she left.
Devin arrived and we cried and cried.
Dr. Erickson came in the room and cried with us. He said sadly this kind of thing happens sometimes with zero cause. He said we would know more once the baby was out, and hopefully would get some answers.
Because of my 5 a.m. Barro's fest, I couldn't have the c-section until that afternoon. Devin went back home to tend to the kids (Brenda had been there watching them). I know I had a lot of visitors in between this time, at least I think I did. I know for sure that Scottee was there. She cried with me and I was so grateful for her presence, because she of all people knew the pain I was going through. I was having contractions, and they were tricking me into thinking that Tom was moving. Maybe they were wrong! Maybe he was still alive?
It was finally time to deliver Tom. Devin was back with me. They took me down to the O.R., which is never my favorite room to go into anyway, and I started to lose it. The anesthesiologist was trying to do my spinal, but I was crying and shaking. The spinal is always my biggest hurdle to get over during my c-sections. The thought of the needle in my back gives me major anxiety, but it is always worth it because my babies are born just a few minutes later. But this time, this time was not worth it. It finally hit me that I was going through all this hell and I would not get my prize at the end. They were going to take my baby out and he was going to be dead.
When they were testing to see if my legs were numb yet, I could still feel everything. The spinal wasn't working as it normally did, and I attributed that to my shaking while the Dr. was trying to administer it. They said they would have to re-do the spinal, and I remember saying, "Come on!" They also said I had the option to be put to sleep, but that I wouldn't remember anything about the birth. I was quiet for a few seconds while I decided, then I told them to just put me to sleep. I am so grateful for how this worked out, because looking back, I don't think I could handle the absence of Tom's cry as he was born. I am so grateful the spinal didn't work.
And now for the part I have been dreading writing down.
I woke up in the same hospital room I was in before the surgery. Devin said, "Here he is," and handed me our lifeless newborn baby.
In the past 2 months I have read every stillbirth story a google search would give me. Most of the mothers described the time spent holding their dead babies as peaceful, even sacred. I wish I had those feelings.
Holding Tom felt foreign. I didn't want to hold him.
He was wrapped up in one of those generic pink and blue pinstriped blankets. The same ones I had previously wrapped 5 of my warm, healthy newborns in. I looked him over. Tons of darling, curly hair. I knew he was going to have lots of hair because a)heartburn and b)Dr. Erickson had pointed out little white tufts of hair in an ultrasound around 25 or 30 weeks. Tom had the signature Barry nose. He had round, puffy cheeks and the most perfect, beautiful little lips. He did not look shriveled or abnormal at all. There was zero sign that he was not living, except that he was perfectly still. At some point the nurses took him from me, maybe to stamp his footprint. I was looking over at the nurse handling Tom, and she said, "Look, I want to show you something." She pointed to a little blister on Tom's ankle. She said, "you have to be careful when you handle him because his skin can rub off." Those words did it. I couldn't snuggle my boy or take care of him because I could damage him. His little body was starting to decompose. If I felt stiff and awkward before, it was tenfold when she handed him back to me.
Someone had gone to our house and picked out an outfit to dress Tom in (Michelle, I think?). Devin and I unwrapped the striped blanket and started to dress Tom. I was so worried about damaging his little body that I couldn't bear stuffing his arms and legs into the outfit after it proved difficult to force them through. I started to cry when I couldn't get him dressed, and we decided to just wrap him in a swaddling blanket I had recently bought and washed for him just the day before.
Visitors started arriving. I was happy for the excuse to hand Tom over to others because it was so terrible holding him. My parents were there, Devin's parents were there, Scottee and Oaklee, Becca, and it's possible that others were there too. Selena was there, documenting the whole thing. She was one of the first people I had texted after I found out Tom had died, because I knew there was only one chance to get perfect pictures of him, and no one else but Selena could achieve that.
Devin left to pick up the big kids. They went to school thinking the baby was coming early. It broke my heart knowing that Devin had to tell them that the long-awaited baby brother wouldn't be coming home. When Sam, Mollie and Tay came into my hospital room, they all 3 analyzed my face, and I could tell they were waiting to decide how they were feeling until they figured out how I was feeling. Sam and Taylor held Tom, but Mollie didn't want to. Mollie is most similar to my personality, so I totally understood how she felt.
After everyone had gone home and someone took the kids back to our house, Devin and I were left in the room with Tom. We took turns holding him and looked him over a few more times. I kissed his little cheek and noticed that it was starting to feel cool. And then I knew I was ready to be done holding him. I did not want to hold him cold. Babies are not supposed to be cold.
The nurses came and took Tom away. Devin stayed a long time, then went home to take care of the kids. And then it was just me.
The next day or so spent in the hospital was my personal ground zero. I was sitting there with no purpose, not taking care of Tom, not taking care of my other kids either. I heard a woman give birth in the next room and ached with jealousy. I sobbed shamelessly in front of all the nurses that were caring for me. One moment I distinctly remember, was hugging a sweet British nurse. We cried together and she rubbed my back. Another nurse later told me that the British nurse had lost 2 babies of her own, and was never able to have any more. She understood.
Leaving the hospital the next day empty-handed was devastating. My nurse-friend Erin, who has been my nurse with 2 or 3 of my other babies, wheeled me out to Devin's truck. I couldn't stop sobbing and I know I was making a scene. I remember having to take a break in one of the hallways before we reached the exit, clinging to the wall and sobbing and sobbing. And then I went home without Tom.
** ** ** ** ** **
Today marks 3 months since Tom was delivered with no heartbeat. This has been the hardest thing I (and Devin) have ever had to live through. I have learned so much about myself in these past months. I've learned so much about the people around me, and I've learned so much about God.
1. Sisterhood
The sisterhood that enveloped me after Tom's passing was something that has changed me. My sisters by blood, my sisters by marriage, and my sisters by choice all wrapped their arms around me and literally shared my burden. Anything I could write here wouldn't even begin to show what was done for me and the love that kept me from imploding. That's another post for another time.
2. Marriage
Devin and I HATE online PDA, but here I go. Devin Barry is the world's best man. I knew he was great and I knew I was blessed to have him, but the way he stepped up and took care of all the details, when he himself was also grieving, is something that has changed him in my eyes and changed our relationship. Marriage truly is a gift from God and I'm so glad I've got Devin.
3. My Heavenly Father
I find it to be no small gift that I am not angry about Tom passing away. I am not happy about it, and frankly bugged, but I really don't need to know why this happened. Honestly, the only feeling I have about the whole thing, is that I just want Tom here with me.
I know people lose their faith over things much less than the passing of a child. I know that loss and pain can cause anger and bitterness. But I also know in whom I trust. God has never let me down, not once. When the nurse struggled to find Tom's heartbeat during that first run-over with the doppler, I was pleading in my heart, "Please please please let him be ok!" But he wasn't. My prayer was not answered, but I do not feel forsaken.
Here's what I've figured out about my faith and about faith in general. Every prayer that I say, every time I open my scriptures, every time I go to church, and every time I go to the temple to learn about my Savior, I am creating a link between Him and me. I almost picture long strings, going between myself and Heavenly Father. Each time I do one of those things, I am creating a string, another link between the 2 of us. Each time I feel the nudging of the Holy Spirit or feel God's love, He is creating a string back to me. Years and years of creating these strings back and forth has created a big spiderweb-like net that caught me as I was and still am in the depths of sorrow. When I fell, that is what caught me. Having faith is an investment and it takes effort, but without it I would be lost.
I know that Tom's passing is for a purpose, but I don't think I'm going to be able to the one of those people that says they are grateful for their trials. I will never be grateful for my perfect boy dying. But I do know that my favorite verse (Romans 8:28) is still absolute truth. I know without a doubt that I will see Tom again and that our reunion will be too sweet for words. Devin has already figured out what he's going to say to Tom when we see him again. He just said he's going to say, "Dude, what the heck??!"
Wednesday, June 27, 2018
Clear Thoughts on a Foggy Situation
I thought of that title all by myself.
On June 1 I got LASIK eye surgery to correct my vision. I was so excited to start a life free of contacts and glasses after having worn them for 20 years.
After the surgery, I was uncomfortable as expected. My eyes were bright red and bruised, and it felt like I had staples in them (I wasn't expecting it to be pleasant). During the surgery, the doctor and nurses at the LASIK place kept telling me, "Now, it's going to feel like you're underwater after you open your eyes."
Ok, underwater. Got it.
Well, a week later, I was still seeing as if I was underwater. Then a week after that. Was this normal? I kept asking my friends who had gone through LASIK before, and all everyone kept repeating was, "just keep using those eye drops!"
Using eye drops religiously, wearing protective eye pads while sleeping as directed, my eyes were still foggy and cloudy. This is the part that's tricky to explain. My actual vision turned out fantastic! 20/10 in one eye, 20/15 in the other. The problem is, it's like I'm living in a cloud world. It's like someone left a hot, steamy shower running and I can't wipe the fog away. Every person, picture I look at on the wall, car on the road, is visible in my eyes, but it has a foggy haze around it. I don't like it.
I went for a checkup. I knew things weren't healing perfectly when one doctor paused after looking in my eyes and said, "I'm going to go grab my colleague to come and take a look." With both doctors in the room, they were smiling at me but muttering to one another about what they didn't think was going on with my eyes. All I kept thinking while they were talking was, "dangit."
They decided I needed to go back to the original surgeon (at a different, more fancy office) and have him take a look. A few days later I saw the surgeon. He told me that my eyes didn't heal correctly. During LASIK, they cut a flap (WORST WORD EVER) in your eye to access the cornea with the laser. After the fix your eyesight, they lay the flap back down. Well, my flaps had wrinkles in them, which was causing the fogginess. He wanted to do a second surgery to smooth them out.
Friday I had the second surgery to correct my flap issue (hate the word hate the word). They told me to expect things to get worse before they improved.
I went for a checkup yesterday (Tuesday), and the doctor said my left eye is looking pretty great but the right is questionable. He said the wrinkles appear to be gone, but that the right eye is very irritated and swollen so it's hard to tell. After he took off clear contact-like bandages, my left eye felt a lot better and even more clear! The right was worse than before.
Last night I played with the kids on the trampoline and Taylor's arm grazed my left eye. Now it is just as foggy as the right. Did I just re-wrinkle my dang eye flap?!!? I don't know.
Here are my thoughts on the whole situation.
It's hard to complain about a situation when it wasn't a dire need in the first place. I didn't have to get LASIK. I wanted it. With that being said, I felt peace about going forward with the surgery. The surgeon came highly recommended from a friend who had had LASIK herself. I went to a higher-end office that cost a little more to avoid any mishaps. Go figure :)
It will really be the worst if I spend the rest of my life in a fog. I am so irritable and frustrated by the whole thing. With that being said, I keep being overwhelmed by the feeling that if this is the biggest problem I have in my life right now, I'm doing alright. I have had 5 successful c-sections with zero problems, and have had 5 perfect, darling children. My body is a good one. It's not perfect, but I'm grateful for it.
Heavenly Father answers every prayer of mine. He always has and He always will. I don't say this to brag or to try and paint myself as righteous or anything, it's just the relationship we've always had. Pre-Mormon days and now that I'm a Mormon veteran. It's how it's always been.
I'm trying to learn what I can about the Savior's healing power. I do know that God can fix this foggy situation at any moment. What am I supposed to be learning from this?
I was reading in Isaiah yesterday about fasting, and that if your heart is spiritually minded and your motives are pure, your desires will be answered. I was also reading in the Book of Mormon (this echos the beatitudes in the New Testament) about those who knock will be answered and given all that they desire.
Knock knock. Fix my eyes please?
I know that I am loved and always watched over. I know that everything works out for my good as long as I'm trying to put the Savior first (Romans 8:28). I'll wait for the day when things clear up. Until then, I'll keep enjoying how beautiful my skin looks in the mirror because it's like I'm seeing myself through a constant filter.
On June 1 I got LASIK eye surgery to correct my vision. I was so excited to start a life free of contacts and glasses after having worn them for 20 years.
After the surgery, I was uncomfortable as expected. My eyes were bright red and bruised, and it felt like I had staples in them (I wasn't expecting it to be pleasant). During the surgery, the doctor and nurses at the LASIK place kept telling me, "Now, it's going to feel like you're underwater after you open your eyes."
Ok, underwater. Got it.
Well, a week later, I was still seeing as if I was underwater. Then a week after that. Was this normal? I kept asking my friends who had gone through LASIK before, and all everyone kept repeating was, "just keep using those eye drops!"
Using eye drops religiously, wearing protective eye pads while sleeping as directed, my eyes were still foggy and cloudy. This is the part that's tricky to explain. My actual vision turned out fantastic! 20/10 in one eye, 20/15 in the other. The problem is, it's like I'm living in a cloud world. It's like someone left a hot, steamy shower running and I can't wipe the fog away. Every person, picture I look at on the wall, car on the road, is visible in my eyes, but it has a foggy haze around it. I don't like it.
I went for a checkup. I knew things weren't healing perfectly when one doctor paused after looking in my eyes and said, "I'm going to go grab my colleague to come and take a look." With both doctors in the room, they were smiling at me but muttering to one another about what they didn't think was going on with my eyes. All I kept thinking while they were talking was, "dangit."
They decided I needed to go back to the original surgeon (at a different, more fancy office) and have him take a look. A few days later I saw the surgeon. He told me that my eyes didn't heal correctly. During LASIK, they cut a flap (WORST WORD EVER) in your eye to access the cornea with the laser. After the fix your eyesight, they lay the flap back down. Well, my flaps had wrinkles in them, which was causing the fogginess. He wanted to do a second surgery to smooth them out.
Friday I had the second surgery to correct my flap issue (hate the word hate the word). They told me to expect things to get worse before they improved.
I went for a checkup yesterday (Tuesday), and the doctor said my left eye is looking pretty great but the right is questionable. He said the wrinkles appear to be gone, but that the right eye is very irritated and swollen so it's hard to tell. After he took off clear contact-like bandages, my left eye felt a lot better and even more clear! The right was worse than before.
Last night I played with the kids on the trampoline and Taylor's arm grazed my left eye. Now it is just as foggy as the right. Did I just re-wrinkle my dang eye flap?!!? I don't know.
Here are my thoughts on the whole situation.
It's hard to complain about a situation when it wasn't a dire need in the first place. I didn't have to get LASIK. I wanted it. With that being said, I felt peace about going forward with the surgery. The surgeon came highly recommended from a friend who had had LASIK herself. I went to a higher-end office that cost a little more to avoid any mishaps. Go figure :)
It will really be the worst if I spend the rest of my life in a fog. I am so irritable and frustrated by the whole thing. With that being said, I keep being overwhelmed by the feeling that if this is the biggest problem I have in my life right now, I'm doing alright. I have had 5 successful c-sections with zero problems, and have had 5 perfect, darling children. My body is a good one. It's not perfect, but I'm grateful for it.
Heavenly Father answers every prayer of mine. He always has and He always will. I don't say this to brag or to try and paint myself as righteous or anything, it's just the relationship we've always had. Pre-Mormon days and now that I'm a Mormon veteran. It's how it's always been.
I'm trying to learn what I can about the Savior's healing power. I do know that God can fix this foggy situation at any moment. What am I supposed to be learning from this?
I was reading in Isaiah yesterday about fasting, and that if your heart is spiritually minded and your motives are pure, your desires will be answered. I was also reading in the Book of Mormon (this echos the beatitudes in the New Testament) about those who knock will be answered and given all that they desire.
Knock knock. Fix my eyes please?
I know that I am loved and always watched over. I know that everything works out for my good as long as I'm trying to put the Savior first (Romans 8:28). I'll wait for the day when things clear up. Until then, I'll keep enjoying how beautiful my skin looks in the mirror because it's like I'm seeing myself through a constant filter.
Thursday, April 2, 2015
The Near-Death of Sam
Last month we took the kids up to Flagstaff for a snow day. We checked Sam out of school early, loaded up on snacks from the gas station, and headed up the I-17. When we arrived about 2 hours later, we got the kids in their makeshift snow clothes (we live in Phoenix dangit) and were ready to play.
We found an area off the side of the road near my old college apartments. It was pretty steep, so I let Devin be in charge of Sam and Mollie while pregnant me stayed with Taylor. It never ceases to amaze me just how brave my kids are. They were going down the big hills with no hesitation and loving every second of it. They did not get their sense of adventure from me. I was more of a play-nintendo-while-drinking-Coke kind of girl.
Taylor and I found an accessible pathway down to the bottom of the sledding hill so I could take pictures of the action. Mollie had lost interest by this point, so she and Taylor and I were hanging out and eating snow at the bottom while Sam and Devin were repeatedly sliding down and then climbing up the hill. I heard Sam tell the dad of another family how he had been checked out of school early to come play in the snow. I felt like a cool mom (even though it was Devin's idea).
The spot where Sam was now sliding down was about 10-15 feet away from an area with a metal drainage pipe at the landing. We told Sam to be sure and stay in the safe spot so he wouldn't accidentally slide and land in the dangerous spot. Sam was getting really confident with his newfound sledding skills and was so excited that he forgot our warning. Devin was a few feet away when Sam yelled, "Here I go!" I heard Devin yell, "SAM STOP!!!"
When I looked up to see what was happening, I immediately broke into screaming. I saw Sam sliding on his stomach, head-first, down the steep hill, speeding toward the metal drainage pipe and bed of sharp rocks. Devin slid down after him and was able to grab his leg, but Sam was going so fast that Devin couldn't keep hold of him.
Devin and I both agree that time stood still at this moment. I was watching Sam's unprotected head rushing toward metal and concrete. I thought of the baby inside me, and how I was about to bring one child into the world and was at the same time losing another. I knew that Sam was going to die and that the veil between heaven and earth was open. I thought of how Sam's 3 little sisters would have to grow up without him.
I watched Sam's head, ribs, and legs crash into the bed of large rocks, and I saw his eyes close. I ran to him as fast as I could without slipping on the snow. Devin and got to him at about the same time.
Sam opened his eyes and Devin scooped him up. He was alive.
Devin took Sam up to the car as quickly as he could, while I shakily led the girls up the hill. I could feel the stares of the other family that was there. They also decided it was a good time to call it a day.
At the top of the hill I could hear Devin scolding Sam and Sam crying. Later Devin told me Sam was apologizing for going in the wrong spot. They said a prayer together thanking Heavenly Father for saving Sam's life.
Sam's only injuries were on his cheek. His face landed in such a way that the chubby part of his face took the brunt of the impact.
I have heard stories of children dying while sledding. I don't know why Heavenly Father chose to preserve my son and not others'. I was at the bottom of that hill and I watched as Sam's 6-year-old body raced toward disaster. I believe that God sent angels to protect Sam and guide his body to land safely.
The drive home was a quiet one. Sam was noticeably and understandably shaken. I told him that Heavenly Father has big plans for him, and that He wasn't ready for him to die yet.
I also know that if things had ended differently, it would have been the worst thing to ever happen to me and Devin in our entire lives. But I also know, that eventually, we would have been alright. I know that is easy to say since things didn't end tragically for us, but I mean it. I know that if Sam had died that day, that I would see him again. That because of my Savior, who conquered the grave, Sam would live again. I also know that because of the Holy Temple, I have an eternal family. I know we would eventually be alright and together again.
I heard a missionary say a few years ago, that there are no permanent unhappy endings when Jesus Christ is your savior. No matter what may happen, or no matter what tragedies may strike, things will eventually be ok in the end.
Sam, Devin and I will never forget the day that almost ended so badly. Our hearts are filled with gratitude and I know the experience changed us for the better. I hope that Sam can always remember that miracles do happen, and that Heavenly Father has big plans for him.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Things Are Getting Worse
A few weeks ago I read this report from the FBI that reported that mass shootings in the US have gone up 40% in the last 13 years. I've definitely noticed and felt a difference in the world around me. Tragedies are becoming more and more commonplace and I hate it.
Today as I returned from the grocery store with Taylor, I saw helicopters circling our neighborhood. When I pulled into the driveway I noticed a motorcycle cop driving down our street. The helicopters continued to fly over, and neighbors started coming out of their homes to see what was going on. It turns out that yet another murder-suicide tragedy has happened, this time 1/4 mile from where Devin and I are raising our 3 little kids.
This summer there was a murder-suicide a few houses down from where our good friends live, just 3 miles south of us. A few weeks before that there was a murder-suicide involving 2 teenagers a few miles east of us. These types of things are happening in good areas, bad areas, everywhere.
We have been told in the scriptures that things are going to get bad. I know that these are the "winding up" scenes and that our Savior will be returning soon. I know that these things are happening for a reason, but it is still unsettling to be around it.
I also know that your "home can be a heaven on earth" even when turmoil is happening on either side. I know that God has not left us alone.
I know that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints was restored to the earth at this time for a specific purpose: to prepare for the return of the Savior.
In a few weeks we will have a temple opening a few miles from our home. Wherever a temple is built on the earth, it pushes back darkness. I cannot wait to feel the peace inside our new temple.
Our church is worth checking out. It is the same church Jesus formed when he was on the earth 2,000 years ago. It has been restored just in time. I invite you to come to the Phoenix temple open house with me in the next few weeks. I am not asking you to become Mormon here. I am inviting you to come into the house of God to feel of his spirit, and of his peace. Because in this crazy world, only our Heavenly Father can bring us true peace.
Watch this.
Today as I returned from the grocery store with Taylor, I saw helicopters circling our neighborhood. When I pulled into the driveway I noticed a motorcycle cop driving down our street. The helicopters continued to fly over, and neighbors started coming out of their homes to see what was going on. It turns out that yet another murder-suicide tragedy has happened, this time 1/4 mile from where Devin and I are raising our 3 little kids.
This summer there was a murder-suicide a few houses down from where our good friends live, just 3 miles south of us. A few weeks before that there was a murder-suicide involving 2 teenagers a few miles east of us. These types of things are happening in good areas, bad areas, everywhere.
We have been told in the scriptures that things are going to get bad. I know that these are the "winding up" scenes and that our Savior will be returning soon. I know that these things are happening for a reason, but it is still unsettling to be around it.
I also know that your "home can be a heaven on earth" even when turmoil is happening on either side. I know that God has not left us alone.
I know that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints was restored to the earth at this time for a specific purpose: to prepare for the return of the Savior.
In a few weeks we will have a temple opening a few miles from our home. Wherever a temple is built on the earth, it pushes back darkness. I cannot wait to feel the peace inside our new temple.
Our church is worth checking out. It is the same church Jesus formed when he was on the earth 2,000 years ago. It has been restored just in time. I invite you to come to the Phoenix temple open house with me in the next few weeks. I am not asking you to become Mormon here. I am inviting you to come into the house of God to feel of his spirit, and of his peace. Because in this crazy world, only our Heavenly Father can bring us true peace.
Watch this.
Friday, April 18, 2014
Congratulations and Reunions
My Maw-Maw and Paw-Paw's 11th great-grandchild was born today. Grayson was scheduled to be born on Maw-Maw's birthday. Although she didn't get to meet him in this life, because of Him I know that we will all be reunited with her again someday.
Maw-Maw with baby Mollie back in 2011
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Wannabe Vegan
I have been fired up about nutrition since I started the Maker's Diet (basically just whole foods, nothing processed) back in 2009. After recently seeing Netflix films like "Vegucated," and "Forks Over Knives," I am starting to steer away from meat and dairy also. The Word of Wisdom does tell us to only eat meat when we have to, and that we should mostly just stick to grains and fruits and vegetables. Anyhoo, today the kids and I decorated dairy-free, sugar-free Valetine's cookies. They weren't beautiful, but the kids actually liked them! They tasted like chocolate Pop Tarts(aka Heaven) to me.
Cookies:
1 and 1/2 cups soaked, chopped dates
1 and 1/4 whole wheat flour
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 C unsweetened cocoa powder
One huge swig of honey
Mix together dry ingredients and set aside. Blend the dates, cocoa powder, and honey together in blender until smooth. Add the blended mixture and the dry mixture together to create your cookie dough. We rolled the dough out and used cookie cutters. Bake cookies for 9 minutes at 350 degrees.
Frosting:
1 C raisins
1/2 C chopped walnuts
2 TBSP cocoa powder
Another huge swig of honey
1/4 C Almond milk
Blend together all ingredients until smooth. Spread onto cooled cookies and enjoy the wonderful taste of Pop Tarts minus carcinogens :)
Cookies:
1 and 1/2 cups soaked, chopped dates
1 and 1/4 whole wheat flour
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 C unsweetened cocoa powder
One huge swig of honey
Mix together dry ingredients and set aside. Blend the dates, cocoa powder, and honey together in blender until smooth. Add the blended mixture and the dry mixture together to create your cookie dough. We rolled the dough out and used cookie cutters. Bake cookies for 9 minutes at 350 degrees.
Frosting:
1 C raisins
1/2 C chopped walnuts
2 TBSP cocoa powder
Another huge swig of honey
1/4 C Almond milk
Blend together all ingredients until smooth. Spread onto cooled cookies and enjoy the wonderful taste of Pop Tarts minus carcinogens :)
Monday, September 9, 2013
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Heber Cabin Trip 2013
We just got back from the cabin yesterday and I couldn't wait to put the video together.
Friday, April 19, 2013
Harrison
Since Harrison has lived out-of-state for most of his short life, I had so much fun working on his video because I got to spend lots and lots of time with him. What a sweet little guy he is.
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