An exercise in love and faith.

*This is lengthy, but I don't want to sum this experience up in a few sentences.  I'm sure many don't care about the details, but some have asked- and I needed to write to process some of this.

I was pretty content with my four children.  Four sounded like a good number and it didn't feel as though we were missing anyone.  Without realizing it, life had gotten easy.  Stella no longer needed bottles or formula and was sleeping great through the night.  She could walk and had a personality that left my days anything but dull.  The older kids were self-sufficient enough that they helped put together lunches in the morning and tied their own shoes.  Denten average arrival time each evening was still around 8:30, but somehow I managed it fine and enjoyed the time we had together.  It's a dangerous thing, that comfort zone.  Especially when it sneaks up on you and you have to be kicked out of it to realize it was there in the first place.

Wednesday morning I had dropped Stella off at Holly's and was on my way to the dentist.  Pulling in the parking lot, Denten calls.  I had a few minutes.  And they rocked my little comfortable world.  Joann had called.  There is a baby.  What??  We had our baby, remember?  We chose not to renew our adoption certification.  Is this for real?  So I took some deep breaths and went in to get my bite adjusted.  Through the morning thoughts of a new baby in our home floated in and out of my mind.  On one hand, I wanted to.  Really wanted to.  On the other, things were so good right now.  Would I be messing with a good thing?  Was saying no even an option?  Well, yes.  There are so many families out there who are waiting for that call.  The one saying there is a baby.  Some of these families don't even have any children yet.  Is it fair for me to take another one?  Why did they call us out of all the families they had waiting?  So many questions and not one single answer.  When Denten and I met for lunch we talked through it all and left without any clarification.  I continued to struggle with it through the afternoon and that evening D gave me a blessing that my answer would be clear and that I could feel the peace one way or another that I so desperately wanted.  The priesthood worked as it usually does and peace and calm took over the jumbled mess my head had been all day.  All of the things that pointed toward taking this baby clicked into place and it all made sense.  I slept well and felt great about it the next morning.

I had the best day Thursday.  I felt happy and peaceful and excited.  I rolled easily with things that might have normally rattled me.  It was a good day. I knew this was right and I was anxious to meet her.  We thought we'd be heading to New Mexico to pick her up Friday, so I began making arrangements for the kids, none of whom were coming with us.  I was disappointed when we learned we'd have to wait until Monday to pick her up- don't social workers know how long a weekend is?!  Friends helping with our kids were flexible and so willing to help.  So we pulled out what we had kept for babies (I had given a lot away) and made a run to Target for the essentials and let our children join our anticipation for a new little sister.

Monday came early and we flew to New Mexico.  We had time for breakfast, over which we talked through what we would name this little girl, and Denten took a work call.  I was tired of stalling and wanted our appointed time to meet to come already.  The longer we waited, the greater the butterflies in my stomach grew.  We arrived outside the birth parents home and waited for Joann, who was 30 minutes late.  I was dying.  When she arrived, we waited again outside their home a long time until they  came out to open the gate.  They had the baby strapped in her carseat and bags ready to just hand off to us but we needed to go in and sit down and visit a bit.  I don't think they were prepared for that.  The social worker had questions for them, we had a few questions and we wanted to share a little about our family with them.  Her birth father was very open to answering questions and sharing information about her.  Her birth mother was quiet and reserved and maybe a little teary, but didn't show much emotion.  We took a few pictures and then said good-bye.  Her birth father was so emotional- it broke my heart to see him cry when we were walking away.

Our drive back to Mesa took about seven hours.  This sweet baby was a champ when it came to feeding time- she had been nursing but took to the bottle smoothly and drank eagerly, like she was so hungry.  Between feedings, she slept and travelled so well.  We talked about her name.  We talked about whether we needed to think about a different vehicle for our family.  We talked about schedules and logistics and couldn't believe this was really happening.  We arrived home about 8 pm.  The kids had just gotten to bed and came out quickly to meet her.  They were immediately enamored.  She was so small, what was her name, can I hold her, can I give her a kiss?  When we let them hold her, Cooper started crying softly.  This little baby brought such a sweet spirit into our home immediately.  We were so grateful she was welcomed with so much love and excitement from her older siblings.

We spent the night trading shifts to feed her, not complaining or trying to negotiate with the other for more sleep.  It wasn't a trial.  We wanted to be with her so much that getting up to feed her every three hours wasn't a big deal.  When she fussed a little before going back to sleep, we just held her and loved her and it wasn't hard.  I was tired, but I was happy.

The next morning the kids cared only about spending time with her.  I had to keep reminding them to get ready for school.  Beckham skipped away saying, "I just wish I could take her with me in my backpack!"  Stella met her for the first time and was fascinated.  She would get excited every time the baby moved or made a sound. She was soft and gentle and while I knew jealousy might kick in eventually, I was glad her initial reaction was positive.  We all knelt around our new baby and said family prayer together before heading out for the day.  It was a sweet prayer and just after we finished, I picked up my phone to take a pic of the kids together and saw the email.

"I am so sorry for the inconvenience but the birth father and I had a change of heart. My family has found out about the birth of my daughter and they are willing to contest. My dad especially was against the decision and is willing to help financially with the needs of (baby). We had time to think about it and it's not in our best interest to let (baby) go. I was wondering when we could meet to get her back we apologize for the last minute decision and inconvenience. Please get back to us ASAP. I lost your number so you can contact me via email or cell number."

I couldn't breathe.  I was holding my chest and trying to breathe.  I held the phone out to denten and could feel my face crumpling.  This is not happening.  We didn't just introduce this little soul to our children and all love her so much to have her go.  No, no, no.  We quickly decided not to say anything to the kids until we knew more, so off they went to school, ready to tell their teachers and friends about their new sister.  Denten drafted an email back to her.

"Your email took us by surprise this morning.  We have only known (baby) for less than 24 hours but instantly we loved her and took her into our family as one of our own.  While we understand your position, and will respect it, we feel a need to express to you how we feel about the situation.  We received that call from (social worker) on Wednesday of last week.  What a surprise to hear from (social worker) with such unexpected news of a baby girl needing a home.  We asked questions about you and (birth father), but she didn't have much information.  (Social worker) reassured us of your decision every time we spoke to her.  We wanted to make sure that before we invested our hearts, time, effort and money that this was a go.  We understand that birth parents change their minds all the time, thus our hesitation of jumping in right away.  However, after such reassurance from (social worker) we jumped all in.  We made plans to bring baby (baby) into our family and home.  We made arrangements in our home and lives to welcome (baby)   We made arrangements to fly to (New Mexico) and drive home at the last minute.  We were all in and we continue to be all in.
Last night when we arrived home, (baby) was introduced and held by each of her new siblings.  It was a tender, emotional moment for all.  They instantly loved her.  (baby) has already been welcomed into our family by hundreds of family members and friends spread throughout the world as they have expressed their joy and love through phone calls, emails, and social media.  Not only does (baby) have us but she will have a team of hundreds of others cheering her on and loving her throughout her life (as she already does). 

We want you to know that we understand this is difficult for you and will respect whatever decision you make, but we also want you to understand that we are a part of this situation now and it is difficult for us.  We will offer her the best that we can provide in life.  We expect nothing less than the best for any of our children, (baby) included.    The opportunities for (baby) are endless and we would love to provide her with all the opportunities she desires. 

We have contacted (social worker), but we understand she is in a meeting all morning.  We will be taking (baby) to the doctor this morning for a 2 week check up.  As stated above, we will respect your decision but also want you to understand that we don't think we met by chance.  We love (baby) and would love to provide her with all that her big heart desires now and in the future.  Please consider your options.  We felt that a higher power led you to your original decision.  We prayed and pondered about (baby)  you and (birth father) and your families and the impact on us and our children before we made our final decision to bring (baby) into our home.  We felt at peace and assumed you did too after having her in your care for two weeks, thus our decision to move forward.  Now that (baby) is here we would love for her to stay. 

We respect your strength and courage to want what is best for (baby)   If you feel it is best for her to come back to you, we will respect your decision."  

She immediately responded that she was sorry, but this was their decision.  I think I was numb after that.  We took her to the doctor and got instructions on how to care for a few issues that were concerning.  We delivered sad news to our families.  We talked about how to tell the kids as they arrived home from school.  What a hard thing to understand and try to explain.  Beckham seemed the least invested but had a few questions.  Cooper quietly fell apart on the couch and that set Seneca off.  "But I don't want anyone to come and take her away!"  Me, neither, sweetheart.  Me, neither.  We combated a feeling of helplessness as Cooper felt we needed to do something and Seneca said, "can't you convince them to let her stay here?"  We tried, sis.  We explained and prayed that whatever Heavenly Father wanted to happen, would and pleaded with Him to watch over her.  

The social worker told them that they would have to come to Mesa to pick her up.  We set the meeting for the following day.  I wanted to judge.  I wanted to be mad.  They struggled to find a ride to work- they cancelled her dr. appt. because they couldn't get a ride, but now they can get all the way to Arizona?  I wanted them to know what a great life she would have here and that I would love her so, so much. But what I felt was the possibility that this baby needed to be gone, out of their home, for them to fully commit to her.  That she had to leave for them to realize that they could do this, they could make it work, they could figure it out and that she was worth it.  Why we had to be the ones to help them come to that conclusion I still don't know, but somewhere there was a greater plan at work.  

Denten gave her a sweet blessing before she left us.  He blessed her that she would be healthy and strong and that she would be happy.  He blessed her with a strong desire to find her Savior and understand His role in her life.  He blessed her that she would be a light to others and I have no doubt she will fulfill that mission.  Of all the things we were sending her away with, this seemed to be the most important and gave me a measure of peace.

They were late.  Late enough I had time to give her one more bath before she had to leave us.  I was putting on her little socks when they came in and her father was in her face immediately.  "Hi, baby!  Hi!  I missed you so much, did you miss daddy? Oh, Hi Honey!"  He was too close to me and I shook trying to get her little socks on and he just kept talking and I was trying so hard not to fall apart with him standing right there in her face.  I am glad he loves her, and I can appreciate his enthusiasm, but it seemed a little insensitive with Denten sitting right there, having believed that he was her dad.  I handed her to him and showed her mother some of the things we were sending home with them and instructions from the doctor.  Her mother seemed uncomfortable answering the social workers questions about what had changed and how she was going to take care of the baby.  Denten and her father loaded their car- we sent home the clothes they had given us as well as all of the diaper, bottles, and formula we had for her.  Denten had purchased more diapers, toys, books and a stroller for her.  He said that she should have everything we could give her.  If she had to go, at least she would have what she needed.  He was very, very close to letting them take our car.  For real.  Then he would know that she could at least get to the doctor and get what she needed.  We sent home the gifts that friends had left for her.  One of them said that it didn't matter now where she lived, she should have these things.  None of this is her fault.  So true.

Her mother let me hold the carseat she was strapped in before they left.  I started crying and asked her mother, "will she be okay?"  She just looked at me like she didn't understand.  I told her I just wanted to know that she would be okay, that she would be taken care of and have a great life.  "Yeah, she'll be ok."  She said they had support now.  She apologized again for the inconvenience.  I told her that it wasn't inconvenient.  It wasn't inconvenient at all.  I would do anything for this baby.  It was heartbreak.  It was the fact that we had fallen in love with her and were prepared to give her everything.  Inconvenience wasn't the issue.  They left and my heart broke.  The social worker apologized and I told her of my concerns about her being well-taken-care of.  She said she would follow up.  

This should be the end, but then we went through the motions of our day with stones strapped to our chests.  I have had so many thoughts the past few days, while at the same time trying not to think about it.  If I had known the situation would be temporary, I still would have done it, but I think I could have taken very good care of her without getting my heart so invested.  Because we believed she was our own, we loved her that way.  And then she was gone.  If it was temporary, we could have handled it differently with our kids, not introduced her as a new sister that was here to stay, a new member of our family.  But we didn't know better.  We didn't make a mistake and couldn't have done it differently.   We thought she needed our whole hearts and that's what we gave.  But that meant that when she left, there was a huge hole in our hearts, and it literally felt that way.  

I think after a few days I can say that I'm okay if she wasn't supposed to be mine.  It hurts like crazy, because I want her to be, but it's ok if she's not.  The hard part is that we aren't comfortable about the situation she is going back to.  It is too easy to let my mind wander and get carried away.  I believe her parents love each other and I believe they love her, and for that I am incredibly grateful.  I do not, however, believe they know how to be parents.  But if I'm honest, sometimes, neither do I.  She came with a few issues that were concerning and sending her back makes me scared, but I know that every first-time parent has to figure it out, they have to learn how to take care of another little human and I know they will figure things out- I just hope she isn't hurt in the process.  I can easily feel very helpless and let my emotions get the best of me but the fact is that I can't do anything else. I can't bring her back.  I can't provide for her.  So I exercise my faith and trust that Heavenly Father has her in His arms and is loving her for me.  

A few weeks ago we had a family home evening lesson on faith and broke down the principle to make it easy for our children to understand.  The equation we came up with is this: 

Belief + Action = Faith

I believe that my Father in Heaven will handle all the things that I physically can not.  I must believe this or I will go out of my mind.  I acted when I handed this sweet little child of God back to her parents.  One of our many supporters reminded me that she may not be my child, but she is His child and He will not forget about her.  As I was having one of a few breakdowns this week, I felt, through my sobs, that my Savior had felt this before.  I saw in my mind Him kneeling in the Garden and His body shaking with sobs as mine was.  I asked How on earth He got through this pain because that compiled with all of the other heartaches and sin in the world is simply too much.  I know that time is part of the answer.  Time heals most things of the heart and so I keep busy in the meantime.  

Life can't just stop.  I want it to sometimes, but I have responsibilities.  I have other children and they require that life keep moving, and therefore I will keep healing.  If I can be grateful that we were chosen to go through this, it is because an alternative might have been that one of the many families out there who have no children and have been waiting for one could have gotten that call.  Can you imagine the elation to know you finally had a baby?  The one you'd been praying and hoping and preparing for for so long?  I wondered about those families when we agreed to take this baby, feeling a little bit selfish, but now I'm so glad it wasn't them.  I'm so glad it was us because as devastating as this has been, I imagine it would be worse for them.  Shattering.  I understand why they say we "exercise" our faith.  It is exhausting.  I feel wiped out.  Faith is not something you just do in your head.  You do it with your whole soul.

Our support system is wide and strong and we have felt it.  Prayers, kind comments and notes, loved ones crying right along with us… while we wish none of them had to feel this pain with us, we're sure glad we have them.   I haven't used her name here because it hurts.  And because she is once again called what her parents intended.  

Today

Today my right eye is ready for a change in seasons.  It's itchy without relief.

Today I have friends helping me figure out what to do with my house.  That's kinda fun.

Today I did not get a nap.

Today I am not allowed to clean her bottom, wipe her nose or clean her ears.  You'd think I was being invasive or something.

Today my dining room table, aka air hockey table, is covered with awesome auction baskets for the school carnival.

Today my kitchen table and living room are covered with supplies to put more baskets together.

Today I was reminded of people who are constant sources of light when I was visiting teaching.  You know the kind.. always uplifting, happy to serve.  I'm grateful for their kind.

Today I chauffeured to music class, baseball and ballet.

Today I kissed Stellie's biceps 57 times.  This short-sleeve weather has a lot of perks.

Today I threw lots of vegetables and chicken together for dinner, added brown rice and quinoa and you can imagine that my children were thrilled.  A side of fruit and at least they didn't starve.  It was yum.

Today I listened to Divergent while driving, cleaning and getting ready for the day.  I'm trying to catch up to Dent.

Today Denten returned from San Francisco.

Today I am tired but today was filled with good things.  And the day is not done.

Right now

Right now Stella is twirling in the family room with Beckham.

Right now Seneca is trying to negotiate her way through dinner.  She doesn't appreciate pulled pork but will finish 3/4 of her sandwich.  Beckham is happy to eat the rest.

Right now Cooper is at baseball practice.  He's not happy to be there, but has agreed to complete the season without complaining.

Right now I have a picture in my head of what my new flooring will look like.  I wish I knew what to call it.

Right now the school Carnival is 23 days away.  A lot of work has gone into it and I am hopeful that it will be a roaring success.

Right now I am looking forward to my weekend.  An overnight with girlfriends and then an anniversary date with my husband.  Both will be so good for me.

Right now I have laundry to do.

Right now I wish I could call my sister and talk about nothing.

Right now the orange blossoms outside smell just like heaven.  and 75 degrees isn't bad either.

Right now my neck is stiff from thrusters, burpees, and pull-ups.  I'm getting stronger.  I keep telling myself that's the important part.

Right now I'm pretty content.

Flooring

forgive if you thought this was a real post.  I'm experimenting… I need to get insta pics on a interest board.  Any ideas on how to do that without a million steps??

It has become somewhat of a tradition for our children to run the 1-mile kids race the day before any full IM event.  Even if D isn't competing, they love that they get their own number, a new shirt, a chance to beat their time from last year and their very own medal to add to the ever-growing collection around here.  Coop couldn't find his shoes as we were walking out the door and resorted to Vans.  Ridiculous, but didn't seem to slow him down much.  Seneca and her dad are convinced she won her grade-division.  I suppose it's possible, she did shoot out of the starting gate like a bullet.  Beckham ran his little heart out and barely acknowledged me as I was cheering for him down the finish chute.  And bless little Stella's heart, she was happy as a clam keeping passers-by entertained from her stroller while I kept my eyes peeled for the little racers.  Success.  Another one in the books.  

Race Report: by D

Ironman Arizona 2013 race report as given to his training group post-race:

The 11th hour eludes me again.  Two, of the many, goals I had going into this race were to finish with 11 something next to my name (even if 11:59) and to run a sub 5 hour marathon (which I had yet to accomplish in an Ironman).  The first will be for another race, the second I obtained.  However, I did PR by 9 seconds.  Prior PR was set at Arizona two years ago.

I went into the race calmer than any other.  Probably due to my past experience, knowing that I could finish the race even if I hit an insurmountable wall like what happened at St. George last year.  I did a few things different for pre race day preparation.  I made sure to focus on hydration last week and to taper off with the protein and fat and focus more on high carbs like rice and potatoes.  I never made this a big priority in the past.  I also ate a good breakfast about 4 am which consisted of an ensure, white rice and one scrambled egg.  Surprisingly, my stomach was calm all morning.

There is nothing like race morning at transition.  Getting all the necessities in place and making sure all transition and special needs bags are set.  I had the standard trip to the restroom, wetsuit on (by the way, you may all know this but I learned it last week, putting on a wetsuit with a plastic grocery bag is miraculous), goggles checked and ready to rock and roll.  We were herded into the water.  Water was 64 degrees.  Perfect.

Tory and I decided to stay together during the swim.  The plan was that I was going to draft off of him for as long as I could.  I lost him as soon as we jumped into the water and started swimming to the start.  Seemed like there were more participants at the starting line this year.  That plan was abandoned, but it didn't really matter because it was an "everyone for themselves type of swim".  Like Tory, I couldn't seem to get into a rhythm.  Bodies, arms and legs in every direction.  It remained like this for the first half of the swim for me.  I did have moments of clear water but they quickly vanished.  I cramped in both hamstrings before the Scottsdale Road Bridge.  Which was unusual because I normally cramp in the calves and feet.  I slowed the pace to try and relax the muscles.  Luckily it worked.  After the turnaround the water seemed to open up more, but the cramps in the my lower legs hit.  I tried to work them out the best I could and then I tried to swim motionless with my legs with the hopes that little movement would keep them relaxed.  I made it without any hard cramps hitting.  I exited the water with a time of1:29.  I was happy, given my swim training was severely lacking due to my bike crashes this summer and fall.  This is the best I have ever felt getting out of the water.

First loop on the bike was fast.  I was able to keep a level power output and was able to draft off of all the bikers I was passing.  I also thought I better try and push it a bit and get as many miles in before the wind hit.  And hit it did.  I disagree with Tory's report of the wind.  I felt it hit on the second loop and it slowed my speed considerably.  I was able to get into a group of similarly conditioned cyclist and we paced off each other until the turn around.

Because I know you are all triathletes I will share this next "first experience."  I was well hydrated going into the race and kept drinking on the first loop.  I had to urinate and each aid station I passed there was a line of bikers waiting to get into the porta pot.  I wasn't going to stop and wait in line.  I had that 11th hour finish on my mind.  So, I hit the turn around at Shea, grabbed a water bottle and coasted down the hill.  I grabbed my shorts to create a little air pocket with the hope there would be enough space to relieve the pressure.  I had stage fright for about 2 seconds then it began to flow.  I didn't care.  I followed up with spraying the entire water bottle on my shorts and down my leg.  Nothing to it.  Well worth it.  The bad thing about slowing to urinate was that I lost my pace group.

At the start of the first loop I saw Tory.  I started talking to him but quickly figured our that he was on the phone.  What?  Yes, he was talking on the phone telling some person that today was not a good day for him and that tomorrow would be better.  Tory, what was that all about?  During the second loop I started to feel fatigue in my quads.  This is unusual for me.  I felt it a few times this summer training for LOTOJA, but never thought it would hit during the IM.  Not sure what caused it.  I stuck to my nutrition (so I thought).  I decided to slow the pace and conserve for the run rather than fight the wind. 

The third loop was hard.  Wind always seemed to be in my face.  I saw a crash just as we got on the Beeline.  It just happened and people were stopping in front of me.  I was plagued with the question of what to do.  Do I stop or do I keep going?  In that split second I decided to keep riding.  There were about 5-6 other bikers there to help.  To ease my guilt I waved a highway patrolman down less than a quarter of a mile away and he responded to the scene.

I was happy to get off the bike.  I finished the bike in 5:40.  Felt pretty good during transition.  

My plan for the run was different this race.  What I had done in the past didn't work.  I decided to carry my own hydration and calories rather than relying on what was provided on the course.  I never train with the course products.  I was a little anxious to carry my fuel belt and figure out how and when to refill my own bottles.  I also decided to run with my heart rate monitor.  I had been training with it.  I started out with keeping my heart rate under 155.  My pace was steady around 9 to 9:30 for the first few miles.  But I began to slow more and more as the miles passed.  I was all the way up to 13 minutes at one point.  My mind was spinning, trying to figure out what was going on.  I could see my 11th hour finish slipping away as my body just couldn't go any faster.  I was frustrated and it was the lowest point of the race for me.  It was one of those time when I kept asking myself, why do I keep doing this?  The mental game was in full force.  I finished the first loop in about 2:30 minutes.  Right on track for another 5+ hour marathon.  Disappointing.  But I kept moving forward.

At the midway three things happened.  First, I saw my family, second, I drank a redbull from my special needs bag, and third, the sun went down.  I had new life, a new found energy and power in my legs.  I started out running about a 10 minute pace, then I was feeling better and better.  My pace dropped to a 9 minute pace and even 8:30s at times.  My form was back and I was cruising.  I thought to myself, I am going to just keep this pace until I fall apart.  Which to be honest I thought it was going to be a few miles.  I was wrong.  That self doubt quickly vanished as I kept passing people.  After seeing my family at the midway point they missed me 4 miles later because my pace had picked up.  They were planning on about a 12 minute pace.  I ran and the more I ran the energy and power seemed to stay.  My heart rate jumped to 165 and held at that rate for the remainder of the marathon.  Some how I experienced the runner's high the second half of the marathon.  Not really sure how it happened.  Perhaps it was the red bull. 

I fought off cramps in my legs and feet the last 4 miles.  I ran out of my drink mix with about 3.5 miles to the finish.  I took salt stick at every aid station from that point until the finish.  With the miles ticking down my pace and heart rate remained consistent.  I kept thinking to myself - only 2.5 miles to the finish that's like running from adobe home, I do this all the time.  Those small positive mental boosts helped.  I passed Tory when I had about 1.25 miles to finish.  He looked strong and his form looked good.  I knew he was on his way to another IM finish.  I picked up the pace the last mile or so.  Knowing you are that close to the finish brings another boost of adrenalin.  I knew I was running against the clock at that point, but I wasn't sure what time it was.

I rounded the finishing shoot and squinted to see the official clock.  All I needed to see was the 12th hour.  I was disappointed but ran as fast as I could to finish line.  I ended up at 12:05. 

I had a huge negative split on the second loop of the run.  First loop was 2:30, second loop was about 2:10.  I was happy about that and my sub 5 hour marathon.

Post race I was not feeling well.  I thought I had hydrated enough throughout the day.  But I could feel the effects of the dehydration settling in.  I hugged my family spoke to Ryan and Spencer and then headed to the medical tent.  When I arrived my blood pressure was 80/40 with a heart rate of 97.  They hooked me up to an IV and pumped in 1.5 liters of fluid.  I also learned that I ran my right big toenail off during the second loop.  Bummer.

All in all, it was a great day.  Any IM finish is a feat in and of itself.  Lessons were learned, the complete range of emotions were felt, there were personal wins and losses, and then, like all of you, I think about what race is next.

Thanks for the support.               

Fifth-time Ironman Finisher

His dedicated fans

first run loop

Beckham: the dedicated high-fiver.

beginning second run loop… seconds before the Red Bull...

thank goodness for Grandma!

A week later, fear ceases and faith reigns.

It was a week ago that I received the phone call that allowed me to experience exact opposite emotions within 5 seconds.

It was Dad.  "Your sister had her baby last night."  I immediately felt my face smile. Big.  The things that flew through my mind included feeling so happy for her that she wasn't pregnant anymore, because I know she was feeling quite miserable.  I was so excited that she finally got to see and hold the little guy because that moment makes all the uncomfortable worth it.  I felt a tightness inside as I wished so much that I could be with her and hold the new little man and help with Tessa and Bode.  I was anxious to hear all about it and was ready to jump in with questions when he continued, "and he wasn't breathing."

I froze.  And then turned around and sat down on the chair in the laundry room.  No, no, no.  This whole pregnancy can't have been for nothing.  She didn't survive pregnancy in Saudi and a mega trip through the U.S. and moving to Dubai and everything she has been through for nothing.  She didn't fall in love with this new little boy for the past nine months and allow all of us to do the same to just to have him gone.  No, no, no.  Please don't make her go through that.

Dad's not one for sharing a lot of detail, so all I learned in the next few seconds was that the baby had been incubated and he'd let me know more when he heard anything.  I exhaled and grabbed tight to the hope just offered, grateful that he was alive and knowing that it was time to plead with Heaven that he stayed that way.  I hung up the phone and bawled my eyes out.  Seriously.  Wet face, runny nose, headache... a really good cry for just a minute before I pulled it together to go tell D.

Sunday just wasn't the same after that.  And frankly, it wouldn't have mattered what day it was, the world just took a pause.  I went through the motions of my life for the next few days, but I was not fully invested or present.  I was glued to my phone awaiting any bit of news about little Whitt and Katelyn and Wade and seriously contemplated emptying any available bank account to hop on a plane headed for Dubai, stopping in Iowa to pick up Linny on the way.  I knew realistically there wasn't a thing I could do to make this situation better for Kate, but do you have any idea how far away the other side of the world is when you know your sister is going through a major fire?  Really, really far.

I prayed and I waited and my children did the same.  I grasped onto any updates sent our way and assumed that Katelyn was being optimistic each time she wrote.  And when too much time passed between replies I prayed harder because I knew what that meant.  I was incredibly grateful for Lindsay and our nightly phone calls.  For some reason it made things a little better that Lindsay and Ben were far away too.  And in those moments, Logan, Utah and Des Moines, Iowa seemed a lot closer than they had the week before.

This isn't news to anyone, but Boogs doesn't change regardless of circumstance.  He was still direct, funny and compassionate all at the same time.  One text read, "hopefully he gets all this out now and is an easy child the rest of his days."

News little Whitt was breathing was a huge relief but it came with the news that he was still unresponsive.  The thoughts scrambling in my head included all those that no one wanted to say out loud.  Was he without oxygen too long?  Please be here, Whitt.  Please be all here.  My prayers got very detailed very quickly.  Thank you a million times for saving this little guy, but we're not done yet!

I have a large extended family.  Both my mother and father have several siblings and they all continued to procreate, some a lot.  And when word got around that little Whitt needed help, family and friends showed up.  They came from my childhood and early school years.  They came from high school and mutual years. They came from undergrad and early married years and graduate school.  They came from every walk of life and it wasn't even my baby.  I was amazed and grateful and strengthened as words of encouragement and support came from family and friends in unbelievable abundance.  When asked to pray, they got right to it.  And they did a dang good job.

So today I'm grateful for a support network bigger and stronger than I was aware of.  Technology is an amazing medium for spreading the word and sharing news.  Prayer is an amazing medium for communicating directly with our Father in Heaven and I can assure you that He hears us.  I know this without a doubt.  I know that the combined prayers and faith of concerned and supportive friends world-wide pulled Whittman through his first week.  And what a blessed little boy, to have the whole world pulling for him right from the start.  He's destined for great things and after all the progress he's made in his first short week here, I'm sure he is going to continue to amaze us all.

A new day. A beautiful new day.

I laid in bed with my door open and inhaled that wonderful rain smell last night.  I'm grateful for the downpour Heaven sent, in so many ways.  I'm grateful for the impurities it washed away and the clean possibilities it left behind.  I appreciate the cloud cover this morning and the little bits of pink hope that hit the sky from the east.

I'm grateful for new days and deep breaths.  Today my gratitude list is long.  It includes healthy children, modern technology and medical professionals that take their jobs seriously.  It includes Seneca singing at the top of her lungs in the bathroom when she should be brushing her teeth.  And Cooper going through his morning routine with his nose in a book the entire time.  And the sleepy hug that Beckham delivered as he wandered out of his room this morning.

I'm grateful to sleep next to Denten at night and to have a sweet, healthy baby girl across the hall.  I'm grateful for phone conversations with Lindsay and to know that she is feeling all the emotions that run through my heart in a day.

The world-wide support that has been thrown at Katelyn and Wade the past 48 hours is impressive and a testament to the kind of people they are.  They give in whatever capacity they happen to be in and can't help but leave people better than they found them.  Support is flowing in from many states and countries all across the earth and it is comforting that little Whitt has the whole wide world praying for him.  I am incredibly grateful for our enormous family and network of dear friends and the love they give so freely.

I know that Heaven knows Whitt and loves him dearly and he is prepared to fight this fight.  I am guessing that he's in for a marathon rather than a sprint but I wouldn't expect anything less considering who his parents are.  He will overcome odds and conquer doubts and remind me often that my faith does much more good than my fear.  He has also taught me a lesson that I have learned again and again... that Heaven has a plan and it doesn't always line up with our own.  But we adapt and once we decide to roll with it rather than fight it, we discover that His plan was much better than whatever we had in mind.  I'm grateful for that knowledge and for Heaven's patience as I learn it again and again.

Whitt, I have cheered alongside many a race.  You gotta dig in, put your head down and just go.  At whatever pace you have left.  Baby steps forward are still steps forward and we will celebrate them with great fanfare.  We have pulled out the cow bells, buddy- we've got the signs and the pom-poms and we are cheering at the top of our lungs for you.  You got this.

Tonight I pray.

Tonight Stella was drinking her milk before bed and brought me Goodnight Moon.  She climbed on my lap and as I held my sweet, healthy baby, I cried my way through the story.  I prayed with each page that my sister will have this same experience.  I prayed that her little boy will bring her a story before bed, cuddle up and understand what she is reading.  I pray that he'll wake up at night hungry and that she will sit in the dark wishing for a little more sleep but so grateful for those peaceful dark feeding moments.  I pray that she will get to change hundreds of diapers and wash endless loads of little clothes.  I pray that his little legs will eventually run all over her house, creating a tornado, causing messes where she just cleaned them up.  I pray he will empty drawers and pull books off the shelf and race cars across the kitchen floor.  I pray that his eyes will light up when his daddy walks into the room and that he will laugh himself silly with his siblings.  I pray that he will fling food from his high chair and ask for snacks  50 times a day.  I pray that Katelyn will have the opportunity to cry her eyes out when he leaves for his first day of school, his strong healthy body ready to go meet the world.

Tonight I pray that there are extra healing angels in that tiny bed with tiny Whitt and they are convincing him that it is worth every effort to fight this one out.  I pray that there are even more surrounding Katelyn and Wade, holding them up, allowing them to breathe and sleep and maintain some sort of balance.  I pray that they can feel all the love that my heart can't contain and all the tears that my eyes keep pouring out.  I pray for clean scans and positive tests and all the right steps in the right direction.  I pray that she can hold him and feed him and kiss his sweet little face because I'm just sure that that will heal them both.  I pray that Heaven is leading each move those doctors make, assuring them that they are the right moves for this little man.  I pray that Tessa and Bode will love this little soul with all their hearts and attempt to teach him everything they know.  I pray for my mom that as she takes care of the children while her heart is with Katelyn and Wade that she will be lifted up with power beyond her own and give her strength and endurance both physically and emotionally.

I know that miracles happen and I know that Heaven has a plan.  I'm banking on those two facts.  I pray for peace.  As I tucked Stella into bed tonight, I held her a little longer, sang an extra song and didn't want to let go.  Please, please let Katelyn have the opportunity to do the same.

a house of sickies.

Last week Stella threw up unexpectedly.  And then she did it again.  No fever, fairly pleasant... strange but I was grateful it passed quickly.  Thursday night Cooper took his turn and missed school Friday.  Beckham hopped on board Saturday night and was a trooper Sunday.  I told Seneca she was not allowed to get sick.  She broke the rule and caved Sunday evening.  Denten and I made a pact that we were not going to get it.  Last night I broke the pact and frankly, today has been pretty miserable.

There are upsides.  Everyone threw up twice then was immediately on the mend.  This made things predictable and it was nice it was short-lived.  I'm grateful Denten could take my shift in Seneca's classroom today so I didn't have to cancel on her teacher.  Shellie showed up with dinner having no idea I was down and out.  Stella is about as easy as they come if you need to take care of someone while feeling like you'd rather screw your head into a vice.

As I laid in bed this morning trying not to move a muscle, I heard conversation from the kitchen float down the hall.  Seneca requested a nutella sandwich and cheddar bunnies for her lunch.  I didn't even have the energy to think about objecting to that.  Dad was in charge and she was going to make the most of it.  This was clear not only by what they ate, but by what they walked out of the house wearing this morning.  Again, it was a sign of how crummy I felt that I didn't say a word.

After school they were great about getting homework done and taking turns on the piano while trading off Stella so I could remain as still as possible.  The nausea, the dizziness, the throbbing in my head- all made me really grateful I do not carry those symptoms with me on a regular basis.  I felt empathy for those who have been through chemo, or auto-immune diseases or who suffer with severe morning sickness because that's not fun at all.  The kids played chess on the roof and volleyball on the basketball court and I thanked heaven that they were old enough to manage themselves somewhat.

Being sick is for the birds.  I hereby vow that I'll feel better tomorrow.  And feel free to pray for Denten... he's the last man standing.

Be here now.

Last week in yoga I was laying in some good-for-me but hurt-like-hell position when my teacher was talking about silencing the dialog in my head and to just be still.  She said the idea to focus on today was "be here now."  Just three little words, no big deal, right?  I was to stop thinking about what had already happened that morning or what was yet to come in my day.  And as I attempted to empty my brain of the 57,000 thoughts competing for space in there I realized that it is very hard for me to just be still.  To not think about Denten or the children at all, or the endless to-do list regarding the house, primary, PTO or my neighbor who really needs something this week... a meal?  flowers?  It was a completely quiet room and my brain was trying to catch me up on all the stuff that gets muffled in there on a regular basis.  But I was to focus on my breathing.  Let it all go and just be still.  Be present.  Be here now.  I can not say I was completely successful at this but I tried.  Every time my mind wandered back to life, I came back to my breath and tried to just be.  It's hard, you guys.

The idea of "be here now" stuck with me through the weekend and by Monday had made it onto the chalkboard in the kitchen.  It had more impact than I expected.  During our morning routine, I made an effort to enjoy the kids through breakfast and making lunches rather than hurrying them along and mentally planning my next steps so Stella and I could get out the door for a run as soon as the kids left.  I always enjoy Stella, but this week was awesome.  She is so good to play and wander while I get stuff done, but this week she helped me and we played and I tried to just "be" with her.  We read stories and snuggled before nap time and amazingly I still got done the stuff I needed to.  

After school is usually a little chaotic as the kids come home and feel loud after I've had a quiet house all morning.  I need to oversee piano with three kids and homework and reading with three kids and time it all right so no one is playing the piano while Stella is sleeping.  Someone usually needs to get to music class, or ballet, or scouts, or soccer.  And dinner needs to get worked in there somewhere- I feel like if there was just one more of me it just might work.  This week I sat down after school and read with Senny.  Just read.  I left my phone alone, told the boys they would have their turn in a minute and just enjoyed listening to what a good reader she has become.  Then I sat at the piano with Beckham as he worked out new chords and got so excited when his fingers did just what his brain was telling them to.  Sometimes I'm sitting at the piano while calling into the other room regarding homework or after-school snacks or come get Stella!  This week I was just there, fully invested in his lesson.  Cooper got his turn too and sitting with him, watching his mind work out his math problems I was so impressed with the skills he has developed to work through a problem and the strategies he uses when he gets stuck.  

Someday I'll miss this, right?  That's what they say.  So I'm attempting to be here now a little more.  I'm a planner.  I like a plan.  I like to know what's coming next and how it's going to play out and letting all that go is not natural, but planning ahead also has allowed me to just be and not be preoccupied so often with what's coming next or how it will work.  So the dinner dishes wait while I sit and read before bed. I hang out in the backyard with Stella while she goes up the ladder and down the slide 47 times in a row, laughing every time.  That can get old.  Unless you don't let it. I'm working on it.  I'm working on being here now.  

Becoming a Missionary

I've had an idea rolling around in my head ever since my dad put it there.  He tends to do that- put ideas in there that make me want to be better than I am.  The idea deals with raising boys who, in my LDS culture, are brought up to know that someday they will have the opportunity to go on a mission.  Girls have the opportunity as well and today more of them are serving in that capacity than ever before.  The idea is to change the terminology we use from "going on a mission" to "Becoming a Missionary."

Growing up, I often heard talk about "going on a mission," and it always felt like a faraway, distant thing that guys would eventually do.  There was talk of preparation, but nothing incredibly concrete.  It was kind of an abstract idea.  Now that I'm raising boys who will eventually go on missions themselves, I want it to be different.  I don't want them to approach the end of high school and suddenly be hit with the idea that they need to hurry and turn into a missionary because the time is here.  I think that is overwhelming and believe it is evident as you look at missions that deal with immature, unprepared young men who hopefully grow up quickly and figure it out, but more often become overwhelmed and either suffer through a negative experience or throw in the towel and go home.  That is not what a mission is supposed to be.

Instead of having going on a mission be some abstract thing that will happen in the future, we work now on becoming a missionary.  Both physically and spiritually.  Beckham gave a talk on this topic Sunday and considering the fact that he is five, it was pretty simple.  What does a missionary do?  They teach about Jesus, and they serve.  In order to teach about Jesus, you need to know Him.  Reading our scriptures and developing a relationship with our Savior is the best way to put yourself in a position to teach about Him.  There are opportunities to serve as a missionary would now, we don't need to wait until we are 19 years old to help those around us.

How does a missionary act?  Nice, kind, respectful.  They have beyond-minimal social skills and carry themselves with confidence.  How does a missionary look?  Clean.  They take showers or baths and they brush their teeth.  Habits my five-year-old understands and can easily find success with.  A missionary is uplifting, not critical.  A missionary follows rules, both mission rules and God's commandments.  Beckham is aware of both rules in our home and at his school and is learning that following them brings happiness and blessings and the opposite invites unwanted consequences.

Can a missionary take his mom on his mission with him?  The primary kids thought that was funny.  But if she doesn't go, who is going to cook his meals, or wash his clothes of keep his bathroom clean?  These are all skills we can learn now so that when the time comes to physically enter the mission field, it can be done with excitement and confidence rather than trepidation.  I have a few friends with sons who think of their households as mini-MTCs, or mission training centers.  They go through their days knowing that they are grooming the Lord's servants and that when the time comes for them to go, it will not be a rough transition because these boys have already become missionaries.

I believe the same concept can apply to other areas of life, like being a college student.  If we are raising hard-workers who love to learn, transitioning to college life won't be a major shock to the system.  They simply transfer the student they have already become to a new physical place- one with even more opportunity.

When I get overwhelmed at the thought that I'm responsible for teaching my children everything they need to know, this idea gives me a little peace.  I can simply focus on what I am able to do now that will help them become great missionaries.  So we read our scriptures and pray together before bed, and  they help put dinner together.  They sort and change the laundry and they wipe down the bathrooms and even if I come behind them and do it again, it's a start.

setting records

Dear Blog,

It's been four months!  That's some kind of record.  I've neglected you for a few reasons.  One is that Instagram is faster and easier.  I'm sorry if that hurts your feelings, but it's true.  Another is that while a lot has been happening, I haven't felt that I've had a lot to say about it.  But these past few days have me thinking about you again, and writing posts in my head which hasn't happened in, oh, say about four months.  Sometimes I miss writing.  Actual, real writing where my thoughts come together somewhat coherently and help me work out the jumbled mess they seem to be in my head.  So, if you'll forgive me, I may be back.  I can't promise when because you see I have a little Stella and she's quite the busy-body these days and sitting down for more than 2 minutes at a time when she's awake doesn't actually happen.  But we'll work it out.  On the docket first:  creating missionaries and a mom's body image.  Not together, of course.  Anyway, see you soon.

Love,

ABR

The Comfort Zone.

We're off to a race this weekend.  There is a half-ironman event in St. George and I will be cheering alongside my children while D races his pants off.  A year ago, this was a full Ironman event and after too many people almost died, the powers that be modified the course and declared that going forward, it would be a half.  My husband was one of those.  Remember?  Ugh.  I wasn't there as there were other things scheduled that weekend and chose those over the race.  I'm not making that mistake again.

We are all going.  There are sacrifices being made all around- dance classes, swimming lessons, a tumbling recital and a baseball game will be missed so we can be there for dad.  Because he has made sacrifices too, mostly in the form of sleep and time at home so he can be prepared.  That was my one request when he started this triathlon madness a few years ago.  I'm on board if you'll put in the time to be prepared so it's not a disaster.  Well, we've seen disasters, but not due to the lack of preparation.  He's ready.  He's strong.  He's hitting the times he wants to see and it's going to be a great race.

It's going to be great because he has created it to be such.  A friend of mine, Justin Prince, recently wrote about ambition and the idea that the only thing standing in the way of ambition is comfort.  It's the same idea that my dad has driven into us since we were little... "get out of your comfort zone."  Growth doesn't occur in our comfort zone.  Dent's ambition consistently pushes him out of his physical comfort zone in order to reach a place that is slightly higher than he was before.  It is this ambition that we will be celebrating this weekend as he swims, bikes and runs his way through southern Utah.

It is this same ambition that has my children ready for the kids race that will occur the evening before.  They want to run further and faster than they did before and are well aware that this will involve some discomfort.  It is this same desire for something greater than my present state that has me working out consistently and eating like a nazi because there is a mountain on my calendar in August and my greatest fear is not being ready for it.

We have a comfort zone in every aspect of our lives.  At work and at home we can do the same thing day after day or we can reach for a slightly higher standard.  In school, Cooper can easily do a certain number of math facts in 4 minutes, but to become a Math Master, he needs to increase the number, so he stretches outside of his comfort zone and pushes a little harder- more timed tests, more flash cards, more talking through strategy so he can get there.  In regards to my responsibility to feed my family, we have moved well out of our former comfort zone when it comes to the food we are eating.  The old standards are no more and a new level of health has been established.  One area that is easy to sit tight in is our spiritual life.  If the daily routine doesn't include time for thoughtful prayer, time for meaningful service or time for digging into the scriptures, then fitting those things in isn't comfortable- it's a push, a sacrifice.  But if there is the desire for a higher plane, a closer relationship with Heaven, a constant companionship with the Sprit, we make time and it ends up being well worth the sacrifice and the steps we took outside of our comfort zone.

The questions that have been rolling around are these:  Am I happy where I am?  My answer is yes.  Do I want more?  Yes.  Am I capable of better?  Yes.  Can I achieve the things I want and my full potential by doing what I'm doing now?  No.  What I'm doing now is great, but where I want to be is amazing and completely worth the time, energy and discomfort it will take to get there.

I'm grateful for those in my life that inspire me, that ignite my ambition and help me want to be more than I am.  My sisters probably have comfort zones, but they step out of them so regularly, I think they have grown to be massive.  My brother has been tossed out of his comfort zone a few times and responds with more strength and surety than anyone else could.  My parents believe in and support and encourage me and have always done so.  The girlfriends in my life are incredible examples of women of strength, great mothers, happy wives and daughters of God who know just what their purpose is and will not be deterred.  Denten somehow conveys two messages- one, that who I am now is wonderful and enough and two, that he believes I can achieve amazing things and he'll support me in achieving them.  And he's incredibly patient while I continue to figure out just where I'm headed.

And so this weekend, we will pray for minimal wind, comfortable temps and be confident in the fact that ambition will get Dad across the finish line... and that angels will help the rest of us be happy cheerleaders until it happens!