Breathing is the first step

On the Monday before I left on an 18-month mission for my church, my mom had every person in our family write me a letter that I could read anytime I needed a little boost. Those sealed envelopes were my most prized possessions during my time in Taiwan. There were many times that reading the kind, supportive, energizing words of my family were all I needed to make it through a hard day.

Little did my mom know that the words she wrote in her letter would not only help me on my mission, but would become my mantra during trials longafter. She told me that when hard times hit, her best advice was to "take a deep breath, have a short cry, and get back to work." My mother's voice lovingly whispers those words in my head everytime I think my life is crumbling beneath me. And when that happens, I take a moment to really let the situation settle (breathe), give myself permission to mourn (cry), and force myself not to dwell (work).

It seems that lately I have found myself in a constant rotation of breathe, cry, work, breathe, cry, work. Just when Calm gets comfortable as my dance partner, Crazy cuts in and I feel myself gasping for air. Again.

The D and C was not completely successful, so I'm currently sitting at my computer with a body full of strange medicine with weird side-effects that are supposed to push everything out. This is Step 1 of a carefully planned process, which also includes a lot of blood work and other special appointments. Because not only am I still full of POC (products of conception is what I've learned I should call them), but there is a chance that this POC is harming my body in a serious way. The genetics from the fetus came back with a shock, my HCG levels are rising, and my young and healthy body for some reason does not want to rid itself of the darn POC. So my doctor is nervous, and she apologizes for "hovering" but I'm grateful she's being my advocate. Step 1 first, and then Step 2, and then 3, and we hope we don't get any further. But if we do, we have a plan. I'm a planner, so at least that part of this experience feels normal.

It seems ironic that the challenges I've faced lately have been born of a desire to have a baby. All I wanted was to invite another spirit into our home--a good and righteous and wholesome desire in my opinion. But from that desire, I have been met with defects and death and D and C's and now this. And I find myself again gasping for air, crying, and then trying to get back to my job of being a full-time mom to two beautiful boys who I absolutely cherish.

Sometime down the line I know I'll look back on this time in my life, smile, and say, "I'm so grateful that I grew so much during that experience." I'm super looking forward to that day! But in the meantime, thanks Mom for teaching me how to get through the hard stuff--I couldn't do it without you.

Talmage is learning to write his name and is so excited about it. I love his A's and E's especially. He begs me to draw him boxes so we can write letters!

 

Feeling so lucky to kiss this kid!