What reality do you portray?

Yesterday I had a headache. Which really is nothing new for me, I get them a lot.

But yesterdays headache came after several weeks of pretty crummy health problems that left me bedridden for a significant amount of days.

Normally I would just lay on the couch all day watching movies with whatever kids were home, do some cereal for dinner (which my kids think is like the coolest thing ever, go figure) and then hope and pray they all just went to bed nicely and didn't fight with each other. 

But frankly I was tired of being sick. 

I was tired of spending my life as a mom laying on the couch and watching my children fend for themselves. 

I was tired of cringing every time my beautiful children laughed with each other.

I was tired of avoiding playing with them because it just made my body hurt more.

I was tired of feelings like a mediocre, always sick, mom.

So this time I decided to try and push through.

I get a lot of headaches, like I said before, so pushing through and just living with a headache and trying to force a smile in spite of the battle raging in my head is nothing new. 

I fixed fried chicken for dinner and tried to laugh at the kids jokes at dinner but by the time dinner was over and I had been head butted and hit in the head with a toy car, I gave in to the war in my head and laid down on the couch.

Tayton, my 3 year old, kept laying next to me and rubbing my head and telling me he was protecting me from the loud noises. 

Aowyn, my 2 year old, kept kissing my face and laying on top of me.

Landon, my 7 year old, got everyone ready for bed.

Braddoc, my 5 year old, would talk loud and immediately follow it up by, "Sorry mom, Ill try to be more quiet."

They all were being so sweet and trying so hard to help me, and really all it did was cause another battle to begin in my head..... the guilt trip kind.

I'm sure we have all been there as moms. 

We have had those days where we look back at the end of the day and feel like we failed miserably at our one job.

We have those days where we go to peek in on our sweet sleeping angels and our eyes well up with tears because we so vividly remember how many times we yelled at them and why we yelled and we kick ourselves because we realize that there was no good reason for it at all.

We have those days that we replay in our head over and over again and wish that we could have changed so many things. We wish that we would have done things differently.

We have those days where we just feel absolutely defeated.

I hate those days. I really, really, really loathe them.

Because I'm not a bad mom, I think I'm a pretty great mom. 

But in the quiet of the night, when the noise has calmed down and the chaos has ceased, we can find ourselves lost in thought. We can re-asses all the events of the day and often times we can feel like we just didn't measure up to the person we want to be.

Last night was one of those nights for me.

When I finally made my way to bed I began to sob.

I tried to hold back the tears. I tried not to let the flood gates open, because I knew that once they did there would be no closing them until all the tears had found their way out.

Needless to say, I was not successful.

I sobbed until my snot and tears ran together.

I sobbed until my chest hurt from heaving in and out.

I sobbed until I could barely breath.

I cried because I was tired of being sick. I cried because of all the moments in my life that were robbed from me because of my kidney disease and because of Graves disease. I cried because of bowls of cereal being eaten for dinner. I cried because my sweet 7 year old boy had to get his siblings ready for bed. I cried because my 3 year old has gotten so good at taking care of me. I cried because my 5 year old had to say sorry every time he laughed or yelled out of excitement. I cried because I just wanted to be healthy and feel good for a real, solid, significant amount of time.

 I cried because I was angry. I was angry about everything. 

 I was angry that my body would not let me be the mom I wanted to be. I was angry because I felt like my mind was alive and wanting to break free but my body was weak and failing me. 

I was angry because I want so much more for my kids then them having a life where they are so used to their mom being sick that they know so well how to take care of me.

I was angry because of all the guilt I felt.

Mostly I was angry because in my moment of weakness I felt very alone. 

I feel like we as mom's (as people) try to hide all the bad stuff.

We only talk about the good. 

We talk about how perfect our lives are, and how amazing everything is everyday.

We do this because its easier to talk about these things, its a lot easier to talk about our strengths then it is to admit our weaknesses.

People treat us like we are terribly horrible people when we talk about how hard things are. They tell us we are being "negative" and that when we have a negative opinion its hard to be happy.

Sometimes I just want to scream at the top of my lungs that, "LIFE'S NOT PERFECT!! SOMETIMES LIFE IS REALLY, REALLY HARD!" 

Talking about how hard it is and sharing with each other when we have a rough day, or sharing with each other our inner most feelings of guilt or failure is not a negative thing. In fact I think it can be a positive thing. 

I think that when we start to share these things with each other, when we stop hiding our pain and our hardships behind a fake wall of "perfectness" we start to realize that we are not alone. 

We start to realize that we are all to one degree or another, the same. 

When I'm crying at night and feeling down on myself and wishing that things were so different, I can't help but be a little jealous of all the moms I know out there who have it so much easier then me. Mom's who aren't raising 4 kids. Moms who aren't raising a child with Autism. Mom's who don't have headaches every day. Mom's who don't have health problems plaguing their lives. Mom's who don't struggle with any big problems in their lives. I think about all these moms and I wonder why my life is so much harder then theirs. 

Once the tears dry, and the anger fades though, I realize what a lie it was to be jealous of all those moms. What a false reality it was that I was wishing for. A false reality created by other women, other people, who act like they have no struggles, and if they do have struggles who act like they handled it so gracefully. When we hide behind false images of reality and sell these images to other people we are creating a whole huge world filled with people being burdened down by guilt. 

Its not real, the idea that there is a perfect, trial free, struggle free person out there.

 None of us is with out trials. None of us is without the dreaded mom guilt, or the scars on our hearts caused by regretful decisions we have made. 

I am surrounded by people who I really know nothing about. 

People who consume my mind on nights like last night.

People whose false lives float through my mind and cause me to shed painful and jealous tears.

I think of these people who have never shared their struggles with others, and who never share their weaknesses and I realize that they do this because of their own fears.... their fears of being seen as weak, or imperfect.

Oh how silly this all is.

How silly this false reality is.

Who does it help? Who does it strengthen and uplift?

Certainly not me, and I'm sure I'm not alone in that.

This morning when I woke up and my mind was clearer and free from false realities, I was able to ponder on my female heroes. The women whose paths I have had the pleasure to cross and who have shared with me their own trials and feelings of weakness. I think about the other women I know who battle nasty health problems and the women who have gone through bitter, pain filled divorces. I think about the women who have shared with me their inner most fears and feelings of inadequacies and I think about how much I admire these women and how much I hope I am like them. When I think about these great women in my life I see them as everything good in this world. I see them as the champions of motherhood. I never see them as weak or negative or shameful. These women are the reality that we should hold on too. They are the reality we should think about when we are feeling down and less then perfect. 

When we feel alone and when the tears won't stop coming, we need not see the false realities of women blasted on Facebook or parading around in front of us. What we should really see is these women of strength and of courage, the real women. The women who know what we are going through because they are going through it too. That is reality. That is what we should share.

And that is what will help dry our tears and give us the courage to continue on, and get back up every time we fall and feel that all consuming guilt.

I know that I have many more days like yesterday ahead.

I know that there are many more tear filled nights in my future.

And I hope and pray that in those moments that I won't ever again feel alone but that I will realize I am in great company and that that knowledge will give me strength.

My brother in laws accident

Our family has recently gone through a major life changing event. A week and a half before Christmas, on Sunday December 15th around 5:45 am, we were awoken by a call from my mother in law. We know if she is calling this early that it can't be good news. We were informed that my 18 year old brother in law was in a car wreck in the early hours of the morning. He suffered from a traumatic brain injury and was in a coma. As soon as we were sure people from Noahs work were awake, we began making phone calls trying to get Noah and I on the soonest plane to Alaska that we could. None of the airlines had very many flights opened since it was Christmas time and every airline that did have tickets were not willing to do bereavement flights. We finally made the decision to just send Noah because we could not afford to spend $3,000 dollars on tickets, ($1500 a piece) and the only return flight they could get for both of us was after Christmas and after all we were going through I could not bare the thought of leaving my kids at home with out us for Christmas. Landon had been diligently counting down the days until Christmas and I felt this giant hole in the pit of my stomach when I thought about not being with my kids for Christmas. 

Noah ending up leaving just 2.5 hours after his ticket was bought. We went through a lot of fuss at his work about this. They wanted him to wait until the next day, (when it was not a weekend day.) They told him that if he did not come in to sign and submit his leave that he could be considered AWOL. This was very disappointing to us to see his work be so unwilling to lend a hand in our time of need. When Noah's Dad died in 2009 (click here to read about Kurt)  his work in Vegas bent over backwards to help us in any way possible, this was definitely a different work environment for us. Noah was finally able to get a hold of his boss and was given the go ahead to leave (he was already on the plane at this point.) I remember dropping him off and bawling my eyes out on the drive home. I kept having to wipe my tears away so that I could see where I was going. I took a wrong exit and ended up taking a longer way home then I planned on. Noah called at one point on my drive home to tell me that they found a fracture in Keyns neck and this did nothing to help dry my tears. I felt like the flood gates that had been working so hard to keep the tears away, finally could not handle it anymore and just burst open. I had been trying so hard to be the strong one for Noah, but Noah was gone and I was alone and their was no one around that I needed to be strong for.

I picked up the kids from a friends house and tried so hard to hide my tears. I did not want them to be scared or confused. When we got home I sat down with them and talked to them and cried with them. I don't think they really understood, or still really understand what is going on. 

That night and on into the next day I felt very numb and dark inside. I wanted so badly to be there for my husband and sister in laws and mother in law. I wanted to be there to hold them and to cry with them and to just be a part of the decision making. I wanted to be there for Keyn and his girlfriend. I talked to my sister in law on the phone on the way to take Noah to the airport and when she told me she wanted me there I thought a giant hole had been ripped open even bigger deep inside of me. I felt like I was betraying his family by not going. I wanted to be there for them but I also wanted to be there for me. I wanted to see Keyn and to talk to him and to let him know how much I loved him. I wanted to be around all the people who loved Keyn and just be able to cry with them. I didn't want to deal with day to day things, like fixing lunch and taking the kids to school and breaking up fights and go on living life like nothing was wrong.

 Monday went by in a giant blur, I don't remember much that was happening. I let the kids stay home from school and they basically ran around with free reign. I had a friend come over and keep me company but it did not do much to dispel the darkness that seemed to be taking over my insides. I got more phone calls from Noah letting me know how Keyn was and any new news they had. We were told that when they found Keyn on the scene of the accident that on the Glasgow Coma Scale Keyn was a 3 (the worst rating, 15 being the best). We also found out that he was not wearing a seat belt and they had hit a patch of black ice and ran into a pole while driving to get a late night meal from Taco Bell. The driver and 2 other passengers sustained much less severe injuries. The friend sitting next to Keyn, who was in the vehicle on the side of impact, broke his pelvis. The pole went into his side of the vehicle and should have killed him, they think that what saved him was Keyn pulling him out of the way. Keyns head flopped back and forth on the impact and his brain scrapped the top of his skull, something called sheering, which basically means it cut part of the brain away. He was bleeding from his ears and nose which was the immediate evidence of the sheering.

I put the kids to bed much later then usual and went downstairs and sat on the couch and bawled into a pillow. I thought about my brother in law and the life that he led. I thought about how many times Noah and I wished that we were there in Alaska to help out his family after his Dad died. I thought about what a great uncle Keyn was to our kids and how much they loved him. I thought about how many times Keyn would ask for mine and Noahs advice on things when we would visit. I thought about the adorable little boy who always wanted to hang out with me when Noah and I started dating. I thought about how lost and sad Keyn has seemed since their Dad died. I looked at pictures of him and the kids and just kept thinking about the future and how unknown it was for him. As much as I wanted him to be okay and to wake up from his coma, I just wasn't sure this would be the case. I thought about how young he was and how much of his life he still had ahead. I thought about his girl friend and how hard all of this must be on her. I cried until I thought I had no tears left and then I prayed my heart out. I asked my Father in Heaven for some peace. I told him that I did not know how I was supposed to go on with life as usually while Noah sat in a hospital watching his brother sleep. I told him that I did not know if I was strong enough for this. I wrestled with him over the thoughts that I had in my mind. I asked him why this? why now? what more can this family possibly take and still survive? I told him how much I needed one of my very best friends Kirsten, who lives in New Mexico. I just felt like I needed someone there to help me not get lost in my thoughts that were surely leading me to a much darker place then I already was in.

After I pleaded with the Lord to ease my ache and to ease the ache of my family members I called my mom to tell her the latest news on Keyn. Not even 5 minutes into the conversation I hear a knock at my door. It was nearly 11 pm and I had no idea who could be here at such a late hour. I opened the door and standing there with her two little girls and holding her new born baby boy was Kirsten. The tears started to flow again. My prayers of only a few minutes before had been answered. My dear friend drove for 17 hours with her 3 little ones in tow, the week before Christmas to come be with me. I don't think I have ever in my life been so happy to see some one standing at my door. Her oldest daughter told me that they came because thats what you do for family, and we were their family. I can not even begin to explain the love that I have for this family. We have been through so much together. Kirsten has become one of my life lines and I am so blessed to have her in my life. As soon as she got the phone call from me about Keyn and about my wanting to be there with them she offered to come watch my kids, so that I could go be there with my family. After this fell through she talked to her husband and told him that I was not able to get a ticket to go up there, he told her to "go". He said that I needed her and that he wanted her to come be with me. What a true blessing this family is in my life.

The next week was hard on both of us. I was still struggling with my feelings of wanting to be in Alaska, while we had 7 kids all 7 and under running around the house. Emotions were running high. As much as the kids all love and adore each other, being stuck in a house for days on end was wearing on them as it was with Kirsten and I. (We also were "blessed" with a major snow storm that left us home bound. And resulted in our van getting stuck in the drive way several times. Thankfully I had some guardian angels watching over me who came to shovel our drive way and walks several times.) There were silly little arguments and fights happening all over the place, but every night when it was calm and quiet, I would get lost in my thoughts and the darkness would start to slip back in I had Kirsten to turn to. She kept me sane. I think both of us were going insane with the kids, but truth be told Im not sure I would have survived the week with out her. I would take the craziness of our kids that week a million times more rather then going through that week alone. We sat up at night and just talked and I cried and she let me. I could not even begin to count the number of times that she and I have been their for each other just to be a shoulder for the other one to cry on. Kirsten used to live in Alaska, so she knew Keyn and Noah's whole family and having that person who knew them all first hand and cared about them too did so much to ease my heart and helped keep the darkness at bay. Noah came home the Saturday before Christmas and Kirsten left that Sunday. It was so hard to say goodbye to her. She is like a sister to me in every sense of the word except for blood relations. 

I grew so close to my Heavenly Father that week, and in the weeks since Keyns accident. I have felt a bond to him that I don't think I have ever really felt in such a deep and profound way. I knew with utmost certainty that he was aware of me and of the deep pleadings of my heart. He sent Kirsten to me before I even asked for her. I knew then, that without a shadow of a doubt that my Father in Heaven knew me. That he knew my brother in law and that he was watching over him. I felt such an overwhelming amount of peace when I just let the darkness go. When I turned my pain over to him and realized that I was holding onto fear. A fear of the unknown. A fear of what the future held for Keyn. A fear of the pain that was to come for all of us in the coming weeks. The fear and despair were feeding the darkness inside of me and when I gave that over to my Father in Heaven I felt such a brightness of peace and of hope came over me. I still did not know what the future would hold for our family. I had no idea if Keyn would wake up and what kind of life he would have if and when he did, but I did know that my Father in Heaven was also Keyn's Father in Heaven and that his love for Keyn was so much more than any of his earthly family could possible imagine. I knew that Keyn was surrounded by God and by his love. I knew that for what ever reason, our family was supposed to go through this trial. That what ever lay at the end of this path was more then any of us could ever comprehend at this time. 

It has been a month now since Keyns accident and he is still in a coma. He can move his head around and shakes his legs, Noahs oldest sister has named this act "crazy legs" because of how much they shake and move. He has opened his eye lids a little and will respond to questions people ask by squeezing their hands. He only does these things sometimes, and we think they are during moments when his mind is awake and not resting. We all talk to him and his sisters read to him. Noah tries to talk to him every night over facetime. They have put in a trache and a feeding tube and ended up shaving his head. I joke with him that he is not going to like it very much, because he has been in love with his hair for as long as I have known him. The last time I joked with him about this is moved his mouth like he was chewing something. This is the exact same thing Noah does when he sleeps, something I have teased him about for years because it literally sounds like he is eating a four course meal in his sleep. I almost wondered if he was trying to say something to me and when I told him he was doing the same thing Noah does in the middle of the night, he shook his head. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes because I felt so strongly that he heard me and was trying so hard to communicate. A friend of the family told us to start looking for signs of his communication. She said that since coma patients can't talk they have to find other ways to communicate and that Keyn had those patterns for communication we just had to figure out what they were.

 He looks so peaceful and thin and frail laying there in the hospital bed. I often wonder how much time he is spending talking to Heavenly Father and wondering how much he will remember when he wakes up. I wonder if he has seen his dad and has got to visit with family members who have passed away. I wonder if he is spending time learning things from Heavenly Father. I wonder if he is scared, trapped inside a body that won't work. Or if he even understands whats going on. We still do not know when he will wake up or what kind of life he will lead after he does. But what I do know is that God's love is infinite. There is no end to his power and his mercy and grace. He doesn't see us as random people, he sees us as his children. Noah said at one time while he was up in Alaska they heard the song, "He's got the whole world in his hands." And I can say that I firmly believe that. I don't know what stands in store for Keyn and for our family. I don't know what all the future holds for us, or what pain and heart ache is to come. But I do know that the Lord knows and I have faith in the him and part of that means having faith in his plan and in his timing. As long as I am willing to give that pain over to him, he is there willing to take it and he is there to hold me until I am ready to stand again. 

How beautiful that knowledge is.

How grateful I am for the peace that he brings to me when my insides feel so dark.

Lesson learned?

I tell my boys to not run around outside naked, I think at almost 4 and 6 that they should probably have some clothes on, (am I terrible, tyrant of a mom for that?).  But low and behold they still do it, I mean its 100 million degrees outside here in hot Vegas, so who can blame them? I went outside today and my beautiful nail polish that I painstakingly applied (okay maybe I just applied it while watching Back to the Future last night), bubbled in the heat. REALLY!? Its that hot!? Summers in Vegas are like winters in Alaska, no body goes outside because its too cold there, and nobody goes outside because its too hot here.

My kids are feeling the summer heat blues and are going stir crazy, so I told them to got outside and play in the sprinkler. We have synthetic grass so it has to be watered down because it it so stinking hot it feels like you are stepping on hot coals. Every time I go outside, even just to walk the two feet, to turn on the sprinkler I am doing the hot potato dance (why don't I ever remember to put on shoes?). This time the boys actually listened and went out to play in the sprinkler, and even turned it on themselves. YEAH!!! no burning feet for mom. I hear them laughing and running around in the water and sneak a peek out the window and there they are,  both of them naked as a jail bird. What the what?! Okay I said play in the sprinkler, which means get your swimsuit out of the bag that is sitting right there by the garage door, ready for you to wear. But apparently I actually needed to say that part.

Less then 30 seconds later I hear Landon screaming at the top of his lungs, you know the cry that every mother knows is the real deal! Not the, my brothers picking on me, or I think I MAY be hurt and want your sympathy cry, but the real full on, I'm in pain cry. I go out to see him and he can't even catch his breath long enough to tell me what happened. I kneel down and hold him, (him soaking wet, which means I'm now soaking wet) until he can tell me whats wrong. Apparently he slipped while going up the slide and fell on the sand and cedar chips with his little bare naked bottom. I turn him around, and sure enough his butt is covered in sand, cedar chips and blood. Poor guy cut up his entire backside and had sand in places that sand really should never find. I got him cleaned up, calmed down and sat down on the couch (laying on his side, because man, laying on a bruised bum is not fun.) As soon as I got him calmed down he says to me, "Mom since I got hurt can I have some food?" Ohhhh boys, always thinking about food.

Well little man, I hope you learned your lesson about not playing outside naked. Sand in the bum is not a good feeling, that's why mommy doesn't enjoy the beach ( I know, I know, I'm crazy and should be checked into a home.)


Its times like this where I feel like I'm really a stay at home MOM. My job in my house is not to clean up everything, cook all the food, or run all the errands, that's all just part of being an adult and a parent. As a stay at home mom, my job is to be first and foremost a MOM. My wonderful hubby always tells me that our kids come first and if all the rest isn't done everyday, its okay, because its usually because I put in overtime at my real job. I love that! I love that he is so supportive and totally helps with all the rest of the parenting stuff. I love my job as a mom. I love being there to wipe up the tears, mend boo boo's, tell stories, give big bear hugs and sweet kisses, to play games and hold my little babies when they just need some love.

Sometimes though I feel like there is not enough of me to go around. I saw a pin on pinterest that said "Being a mother is like being pecked to death by a chicken." Yeah its kind of morbid, but true too. There is always some one there who needs me, always someone who wants something and the word Mom is probably the most used (yelled, whined, said with love) word in our house. And while sometimes its seems overbearing and never ending and sometimes I just need a little break from it all, to just be Aurie for a bit, I wouldn't change a thing about it. I know that one day when those little voices are all grown up and not needing me so much anymore that I will miss it more then anything in the world. I know I'll miss little naked bums running around in the yard and I'll miss them asking me for food 8 trillion times a day. I know I'll miss being a stay at home MOM, the rest of the stuff will always be there, in smaller doses of course. So Ill enjoy "being pecked to death by little baby chickens" while it's still happening.

Surgery

Tayton had surgery today. He has had reflux since he was born. He didnt gain any weight as a baby and spit up EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME!! They thought it might go away by the time he was a year, chalking it up to reflux after they did countless CAT scans and MRIs and xrays and could find nothing. They didnt want to do an endoscopy or colonoscopy till he was two. When he was 18 months and nothing had changed, the poor guy threw up everytime he burped and if we were late on a dose of medicine he would throw up whatever he ate, they decided that it might be a twisted asaphagus and would need surgery to fix it. He has been a trooper and doesnt hardley ever cries, except at night when he is asleep and its painful and then the poor guy whimpers in his sleep A LOT, it makes me so sad to hear it, I want to go in and hold him and make it all better. So today was the magical day, he is finally two and they could go in and see what was wrong. If it was the throat they would fix it with a quick surgery.

Tayton came through surgery fine. He didnt even cry when they put him out (he did convulse a lot and his eyes rolled in the back of his head. His breathing got really labored and made me want to cry. They did warn me about all of this so I was prepared but I still wanted to cry) He didnt cry when he woke up or when they pulled the tape off and took the IV out. He was a trooper, they were going to keep him out until after they took the IV out, but I knew he would be fine. He woke up before hand anyway and they gave him a popsicle and blew a bunch of bubbles for him while he adjusted to being awake. He was so sweet. I just held him and he snuggled in close, not ever uttering a peep. The took the tape off (and there was a TON of it) and then pulled out the IV and he just layed there watching them do it all, again never making a sound. Everyone commented on how amazing he was and how he was the best 2 year old they had ever worked with. The anesthisiologist kept telling me that he would fight it when they put the mask on and so we would have to hold him down and not to be alarmed. When he got into the OR they put the mask on (which had bubble gum flavor on it) and the tech pulled out his Iphone and put on some cartoons for Tayton to watch and narrated it for him while he held the mask on. Tayton didnt fight, he didnt budge he just held my hand and layed there. Such a sweet sweet boy. Everyone in there was blown away by how well he did. I had no less then 10 people come talk to me to tell me how amazing he was and how they had never seen a 2 year old so calm and sweet. It was proud to call him mine.

 After the proccedure (which I could follow on the awesome digital board at sunrise hospital, well I could only see a break down of what was happening in writing) the doctor came out and showed me the pictures and told me what he saw. So it turns out he didnt have a problem with his throat like they originally thought (which would have been a quick one time fix). His throat and stomach are fine but his intestines are all messed up. The villa are dead and missing in places and his intestines are very inflammed, they also think they saw some ulcers but they couldnt get close enough too them with out puncturing through the wall. They did do some biopsy's and should know more by friday. They are leaning towards ulcers  and ulcerative colitis (this would also explain a lot of his other symptoms, like painful swallowing, random fevers, rashes, lack of weight gain, and malnutrion) and/or celiac. If its ulcers they need to figure out why he is getting them (probably from the ulcerative colitis, but again why? and what to do to fix it? diet? ect.). So now we went from a quick fix, to a life long illness that will not be fun to have or lots of meds and pain off and on (remission and withdrawls) for the rest of his life. I am anxious to find out what the test results show. I am glad that we are on the way to figuring this all out for the poor guy, but Im sad for what the future may hold for him. In the picture you see his (from top left to right) asophagus, stomach, and then his intestine, In the bottom left picture if you look on the top center you can see one of the ulcers (its a little pocket looking thing)nand then if you look for the little tiny pockets of white villa (kind of litle the suction cups on octopus's tenticals) you can see some sections of them and some sections where they are missing.

He got a cute little gown and socks and he kept telling me over and over again while rubbing his tummy, "I cute!" yes my dear beautiful baby boy you are.

They had a tv in his little room with Mickey Mouse playing so he ran around saying "Toodles" "pluto" and "donald" over and over. Everyone who walked by told him how cute he was and he told them all "Hi buh bye".

 There was a very awesome room with lots of toys in it for him to play with while we waited. We walked around the floor in a car and then he played with a bunch of toys, that he had all to himself without anyone he had to share with. He was in 2 year old heaven. It was so fun to watch and get to spend time with him and not have to take time out to help or listen to his brothers. Its so fun to get to have my kids in some one on one time. It sucked that it was a surgery that made this one happened, but I really enjoyed spending time with him non the less.
I love his cute little diapered bum sticking out of his gown.

 I love to see him consentrate on things and to watch them work and function. I can just see the wheels in his mind spinning so fast trying to figure out how it is all working. He loves to carry things around with him, he puts as many things in his arms as he can, and he also uses his mouth as a hand too,

 I just adore this little man! I want to squeeze him and hug him and kiss him over and over and over again. He smells so yummy, he is so soft and warm and sweet and his hair is so fluffy. I watch him and hold him and I dont want it to be over, I dont want him to grow up so fast, Im not ready for this sweet little learning stage to be over. Before I know it he will be married and gone with his own little men (and women) so I better just enjoy as much of him for as long as I can.

 He loves to tell us to go, go, go! When we are driving, if we are stopped at a light or in slow traffic he will say "Momma (or dadda)" and when we answer he will say "go, go, go". when he got in the car he immediately started to yell GO GO!!

 His poor little hand was so swollen after he got the IV out. The picture doesnt do it justice, the poor little man had a big swollen pocket sticking up from his skin.

Its just one of those crying days

So today has been one of those “oh poor pitiful me” kind of days.

I took Aowyn to the doctor for her 4 month check up. Before I left Noah and I were joking about how much weight we thought she had gained and I said “2 pounds, Im really hoping for 2 pounds.” Her last appointment she barely gained any weight and the doctor said if she continued on that path then we would have to do some intervention. I was actually excited for her appointment. I mean Im no scale but she looked bigger to me, she sure has grown intellectually and is far more advanced at 4 months then any of her brothers were, so I thought she was doing good and I was rooting for those two pounds.

You can only imagine how my heart dropped and my eyes welled up with tears when I layed her on the scale and it flash 8 15 !!!! WHAT???? No weight gain not even one ounce. How is that possible? How could she not have gained anything? She eats like a champ. She isn’t fussy. She is such a happy baby. When I pump I get at least 5 ounces. So how is it that she hasn’t gained anything?

There I stood in stunned silence, hoping that the numbers were not real, that she really had gained weight. I mean at least Tayton, tiny little acid reflux Tayton, gained a few ounces between appointments. How could she not have gained even one tiny little ounce? In fact all she gained was 1/10th of a kilogram. And honestly she had her teething necklace on this time that she didn’t have on last time, that thing probably weighs 1/10th of a kilogram.

For the next hour, her doctor, Dr Moss, oh how I love our doctor, the resident, and I all talked about the million and one reasons there could be for her not gaining weight. I have joked with my friends in the past who have super chunk babies that they make heavy cream breast milk and I make low fat, skim milk as my breast milk. And it turns out that pretty right on key. I told me lactation consultant that a few years ago and she laughed and said there is no such thing. Well, sorry to break it to you, lady who has never had any kids OR breastfed, it can happen and there is such a thing. Im living proof, want to test me? In the end they took 3 vials of blood and are running some tests and want me to supplement with formula.

At this point, the mention of the dreaded word, FORMULA, the tears started coming! I don’t want to formula feed. I want to breast feed, this beautiful wonderful gift has been taken from me with 2 of my first 3 kids and how you want to take it from me again? Who am I without this? That’s my mom super power, making milk and feeding my beautiful babies. There is a bond that is felt when breastfeeding that I just cant explain. I love to hold them in my arms stare into their eyes, feel there little hands squeezing me and pulling off long enough to smile at me when I tell them how much I love them. And now you want me to stop? Well in all fairness they just want me to do half and half, but with my milk Im not sure it will stay in if I just got half and half.

I cried all the way home. I cried when I got home and told Noah, I cried for what is being taken from me. Something that they don’t even know if it will work, something that may or may not help her. It makes me sad to have this taken from me. I want my daughter to grow and be healthy, I want to do whats best for her, but doing something that you “think” may work (now mind you it didn’t work with Tayton) and then hoping it does, is really hard for me, because I know how good breast milk is and I love the bond that is formed.

I cried when the doctor called and told me her liver enzymes came back high, but that everything else looks fine and that he wants to test her for celiac, and lactose allergies. I cried for all that she might lose depending on the results of those tests. I have celiac so I know how hard it can be to live with out it, I cried because I don’t want her to suffer in any way. The tears came so hard I couldn’t see, I just wanted to hold my sweet baby in her arms and look into her eyes and kiss her sweet face. I want to provide her with the one thing I know I can.

So many people in the world look at women who don’t breatfeed as bad moms, who don’t care about their kids or who don’t want to go the extra step and breatfeed, they don’t care about why. I got asked while sitting in the lab getting my beautiful princesses blood drawn, “why is she so small?” I could see the look on her face and my heart sank, I went through this with Tayton, people telling me I was a bad mom because he was tiny and I must not have been feeding him, or I was neglecting him. We went through a huge ordeal of having the police called because people thought we were negligent parents, people who didn’t even know us and who looked at us like we were monsters because our baby was so small. People who had no idea how many tears I shed, or how many nights I spent up with my tiny baby worrying that he might not make it through the night. I look at him now and see how strong he is and I know that Aowyn will be fine. I just mourn the loss of what is being taken from me and from her. I cried when I gave her a bottle today and she keep pulling off and nustling her face into my shirt right over my breast and would start sucking on my shirt.

So here I am having my little pity party for myself and my daughter and I think, “As much as this sucks and I just want to cry about it all day, at least she is alive, at least I am alive, at least all my kids are alive and we are doing well in most aspects of our life.” I sit down on the computer to post a “please pray for aowyn” post on facebook and as I sit there I find an article about a young family who just lost there mother to cancer. I find another story about a young mother who’s toddler and husband went out canoeing on her birthday and never came home, they found her tiny sons body but not her husband’s. I continue to read and find another story about a family battling cancer in their 4 year old. I have a friend who is in the hospital with her 6 year old daughter who has a absess on her kidney and has an IV hooked up to her poor little arm trying to get rid of the abssess. So yeah, this sucks, yes something is being taken from me, but there are much worse things happening all around me, so I let the tears flow freely, today, but tomorrow I need to put on my big girl panties, buck up, put on a happy face and realize “this too shall pass” and that I always have the lord on my side. Its all going to be okay. Mourn today Aurie, but tomorrow move on.

UPDATE: I got a call a couple of hours ago from the doctor who wants her only on formula for the next week. I have to go back in and get her weighed on friday. I was trying to bottle feed her at bed time and she just screamed and screamed and kept turning her head and nustling into my chest and trying to eat. I broke down and cried. I have breast milk, lots of it and here my sweet little girl is, wanting it and I cant give it to her. Its so emotionally painful. I was bad and would put her on to breastfeed for a few minutes to calm her down.