Thumper

Last year, about this time, I began to clean out the garage.

Brian said he had seen a mouse running in there, so it was time.  Tucker was brand new and sleeping in the house.

The other kids were swimming, being watched by Samantha.

Ok.  I backed the car out.  Then I went to the front corner of the garage, moved a piece of plastic…and out runs a baby rabbit.  A baby.  Light grey fur, little white cotton ball tail, the whole thing.  Thumper.

The bunny runs right past me and stops in the other corner of the garage, right next to the garage door.  He could have easily run out.  But in his extreme state of anxiety and fear, he just stayed in the corner and kept jumping up the wall.

Bunnies are cute.  They really are.  But they are also pests and love to destroy my plants and trees, and they leave pellet poo all over my yard.  So I am able to see past the cuteness and focus on the task at hand.

What is the task?  To kill it?  Trap it?  I clearly had not thought there was a rabbit in my garage.  Brian said he saw a MOUSE!!  And frankly, I kind of doubted that.

So I grab the closest thing to me, which was my snow shovel.  Yes, I realize a snow shovel in Texas is underutilized, but it came with us from Utah.  And it reminds me of Idaho, snow, family, lots of good memories.  Aaahhh.  I love snow.

Anyway…I grab the snow shovel.  I thought I would just trap it against the wall it kept jumping up, and then I could formulate a better plan.  Using my cat-like reflexes (hahaha), I thrust that snow shovel into the corner.  Success!

WAIT…I accidentally pin the baby bunny TO the wall.  Not what I was intending at all.  I wanted to trap it, not kill it!  So now this has become a disaster.

Bunnies cry.  CRY.  AND IT SOUNDS LIKE A HUMAN BABY.  Did I mention that Tucker was maybe one month old?  That stupid rabbit was crying so loud, and it sounded just like my own baby boy!

I froze.  What should I do?  I couldn't stand the crying.  It was excruciatingly painful to hear.  I decided to push harder and just kill the thing.  I pushed.  Thumper cried louder.  Harder…louder.  Finally, it stopped making noise.  Tears filled my eyes.

I pulled back the shovel, and that little bunny wasn't dead!  He had a nice fold in the middle of his tiny body, and he was slowly pulling himself along the floor.  Feeling about as awful as I could, I decided to end the misery I had inflicted.  I raised the shovel and whacked it on the head.

THUMPER DIED.  And I killed him.

I scooped up his tiny body with the shovel and put it in the garbage.  Then I said a prayer of gratitude that none of my children had witnessed that.  And then I called my mom to confess.

Unreal.  I don't know if I am cut out for Texas.  This place is tough.

Hindsight

Ever seen The Sixth Sense?

Brian and I went to it years ago, but I've never seen it since.  Freaked us both out pretty good.  However, when the twist at the end of the movie comes, I did like my brain racing backwards trying to make sense of it all.  That was fun.

My life is like that now.

Here we go.  Samantha was diagnosed with ADHD last June.  She has been taking medication for it since July.  Since that diagnosis, my mind thinks through years and years of memories…things I should have noticed, but rationalized them away.

In January 2012, my parents were out visiting us.  My dad said Samantha had ADHD.  I looked at him incredulously…what?  I agreed she was completely obnoxious, but my dad is grumpy anyway, so I kind of ignored what he said.  Then her piano teacher said she had a hard time keeping her on task at piano.  So it got me thinking.  What if?

I made an appointment with her pediatrician.  That was……….humiliating.  I described the circumstances surrounding Samantha, and he went on to belittle and shame me.  He said if she truly had ADHD she would have been diagnosed before age 7 (which, btw, is NOT true for girls).  Then he proceeded to tell me how HIS son had ADHD and how Samantha clearly did not.  He kept asking me if I wanted to continue to pursue this course.  Once opened, we could never go back.  I felt like an idiot.  And I was ashamed.  He then suggested she may have Aspergers.  WHAT???

It was the worst appointment ever.  I left.  And I stopped thinking about it.

But then, as time went on, I began noticing lots of things.  Samantha was incredibly messy.  Not normal kid messy…way worse.  I went to pick up some things for her at school, and she opened her locker.  It blew open with papers, trash, junk.  My jaw dropped.  What was going on?

I went to school everyday for her….forgotten lunch, papers, money, notebooks, textbooks…whatever.  Seriously, E.V.E.R.Y.D.A.Y.

She happened to be on the swim team this year as well.  She lost two swimming suits, could not remember her towel, her underwear, her shoes, etc.  We tried all kinds of things to help her be organized…a notebook, a planner, a sheet of paper, her hand.

She could not remember to brush her teeth, could not sit and do homework without someone sitting next to her, would forget to put on deodorant.  Her work at school was either perfect or failing…100% or 60%.  Her tests were especially poor.

And socially, she was awkward.  She had no sense of personal boundaries…Brian and I would helplessly watch as other kids would look annoyed by her and leave.  But she never got it.

The dynamics in our house have been awful, and that is putting it mildly.  We were very hard on her, yelling often and never understanding why she acted so incredibly immature.  I felt hopeless.  And I didn't like her.  At all.  I was so glad when she had somewhere else to be because our home was so peaceful without her.  And that felt terrible.  Who doesn't like their own kid???

Fast forward…in May of 2013, I was on pinterest and saw a pin about symptoms of ADHD.  I clicked the link and started tearing up as I read the exact description of my daughter.

I told Brian about it and then had him read it too.  He agreed with me.  He knew a doctor who specializes in adolescents, especially those with ADHD.  We saw her in June, and she said Samantha was a textbook case.  I broke down.

Years of bad and mean parenting came into my mind.  In third grade, when she was struggling so much with memorizing math facts, and we just made her go over it and over it til she cried.  When we moved to Utah, and the teacher often told me how Samantha just didn't have any friends…
So much fighting with her about how she was not reaching her potential, how she was so much smarter than all the school work showed.

Anyway, I'd love to say a pill fixed everything, but it didn't.  It did help a lot of things.  This school year she has not forgotten anything!  Not even once!  She can also finish her homework all by herself now.   She is much less awkward around people, too.  We are still working on the social aspect, and I truly wish girls were nicer.  But that is life.  And I hope Samantha will have enough character to not worry about the meanness.  She has had a good dose of it already.

ADHD has such a stigmatism to it.  Samantha was thrilled when the diagnosis came…she said all the smart kids have ADHD, so she must be smart, too!  More evidence of the fine parenting we had done.
Samantha promptly shared her good news with the girls at church…and one girl said, I don't believe in ADHD.  I wish I had the luxury of not believing in it either.  Maybe if I don't believe in diabetes, Annie won't have that!  Give me a break.

I trust in the medicine that so far is helping her lead a more normal life.  And I hope we have enough time to repair the years of damage I feel we have done to her.

I went to stake conference this weekend.  We sang the closing song, "I'll Go Where You Want Me To Go."  Although it is typically a song about missionary work, my heart was touched in a very different way.

It may not be on the mountain height or over the stormy sea,
It may not be at the battle's front, My Lord will have need of me.
But if, by a still, small voice he calls to paths that I do not know,
I'll answer, dear Lord, with my hand in thine: I'll go where you want me to go

I'll go where you want me to go, dear Lord, over mountain or plain or sea;
I'll say what you want me to say, dear Lord; I'll be what you want me to be.

An answer to pleading with the Lord, "How do I do this?"

I am incredibly overwhelmed with the responsibilities of parenting healthy kids.  But then you throw in diabetes, and Norah's bowel troubles, and ADHD…and crying in my shower is typical here.  But the words of that song brought me my answer, along with peace.

And I am so grateful for that.

Tucker

There was a time that I thought I would never STOP talking about it…but as time goes by, I find that I am starting to move on and forget things, actually.  So here it goes.

On May 8, which was a Wednesday, Samantha had a honors society induction ceremony at school.  Our family went.  I started having contractions about 6 p.m., and they were definitely hurting.  The program began at 7, and the contractions kept coming.  It was painful, but not so bad because I could sit through them. Although, I did start to time them…about 8 minutes apart.

At about 8, we all went home and I told Brian I was going to take a bath, figuring they would stop.  (It was interesting to me how much I wanted to have the baby, but when labor started, I changed my mind).  Anyway, these contractions were painful.  And I started timing again.  They were about 5 minutes apart now.  Normally, I would have gone to the hospital, but I really didn't want another C-section, and my doctor wouldn't give me any Pitocin, so I knew I had to labor as much as I could at home.  Ugh.

So after about an hour in the tub, I realized they were not going to stop.  Brian was in the living room watching a game, so I told him I thought this was real and we needed to go to the hospital.  Did he even acknowledge that I had spoken??  I can't remember.  But he didn't move from the couch.  So I continued on, rocking on my hands and knees through the pain.  So weird, but it helped.  A little while later, I told Brian again.  He asked me if I was going to go to the hospital in what I was wearing?

WHAT???!!!  Granted, I had on a ratty old t-shirt, but who cares!  I take off my clothes in the hospital anyway!  And still no movement off the couch.  So I quickly change my shirt, throw some things into a bag (I never pack a hospital bag) and come out again.  Through tears of pain this time, I say we need to go to the hospital.  Brian looks at me and it finally registers that I cannot stay at home any longer.  He jumps up and quickly gets ready.

We are in the car at 10 pm, driving the short distance (about 5 minutes) to the hospital.  I call my doctor on the way.  Contractions are 45 seconds long about every 2-3 minutes.

We park.  As we walk in, a huge contraction hits and brings me to my hands and knees.  Brian is pulling on my arm, saying we can't do this in public?  Is this man for real?  I could NOT get up.  Not til the contraction passed.  We get inside, and I immediately say I want an epidural.  Brian asks who is on call, and doesn't  know the anesthesiologist, so he calls one of his friends instead.  At this point, I am crazy with pain.  I think I was dilated to a 6.  Who cares?  It was awful!

I remember Brian telling his friend he can take his time, that I usually take a while.  I turned to him and may have called him an idiot and a few other things…get that doctor in right NOW!!!!!

At this point, things change.  I can no longer time the contractions because there is no time between them.  They just keep coming, one on top of the other.  They give me oxygen.  Brian whispers to me, "You have to try to breathe, or this will be just like Norah." :(  I cannot deal with the excruciating pain. I try my hands and knees, try lying down…nothing works.  My ridiculous hospital gown is twisted all around me as I toss and turn through the contractions.  The nurse keeps adjusting the monitors on my stomach…I cannot hold still for her to do it, so she and I engage in some crazy baby monitor dance as I writhe around in pain.

The anesthesiologist FINALLY walks in, and hurriedly sets things up.  They keep telling me to hold still, but I cannot.  The pain was so intense I don't know how he could get the needle in my back, but he did.  I lay on the bed and was overcome with so much pain that I thought I would burst.  I straightened my legs and then felt a huge pop…my water had broken.

My doctor asked if I was feeling better…NO!  Only about 1 minute had passed since the needle went in, and I suddenly had to push.  I said (screamed) "I've got to push!"  I can no longer visually focus on anything, so I just am hearing voices.  My doctor said to wait because she didn't have her gloves on…hahaha.  Still makes me laugh.

"I'm going to push RIGHT NOW!"

And two pushes later, at 11 pm, out came the most bruised, purple baby boy I'd ever seen.  It was so fast, so intense, and crazy.  And I cried.  The only birth where tears were shed.

What an ending.

Bedtime

     The girls all sleep in one bedroom.  This particular night, Julie was insistent that Tucker come with them to bed.   When I walked in the room, she had him laying on her bed under the sheets.  It made me laugh, and I went to get my camera.

     As soon as I was back, all the girls had jumped on the bed.  Amazingly, I actually got a good picture.  Even Tucker was smiling!


****just so I remember...Julie is an awesome babysitter.  I realize she is not quite 8 yet, but her maturity is far beyond that.  She always helps with the little girls and with Tucker, and is more responsible than any child should probably be at 7.   What a blessing she is in my life. ****


     I really love this picture.  I want to frame and hang it, so I can remember that I DO love these kids when they are screaming...pulling hair...unbuckling seat belts and standing up in their car seats as I am driving...pinching...coloring on my walls...dumping all my brand new cleaner all over the carpet...etc, etc, etc.

Yes, I think I will hang this picture up.

   

September

While my big kids are in school, my little girls LOVE to swim.  They both learned to swim this summer...Yippee!

Annie was usually pretty cautious, so I didn't worry about her too much.  she was quite diligent about always wearing her life jacket.  :)  Norah, on the other hand, was a crazy lady.  She had fallen in the pool a number of times, and she never seemed to be too disturbed about the whole thing.

One time, when she was barely two, she fell in and had to be rescued by Landon (fully clothed).  Scary....but that experience made Landon grow about 6 inches with pride.  He was thrilled about his life-saving actions, and often talked about it.

He is a good kid.

Anyway, once Annie learned how to swim, Norah stopped loving her life jacket and got busy swimming herself.  Their skills have improved rapidly with all the swimming they do.  I love it.  It is about the only thing you can do out here during the summer heat.

And just for good measure...Tucker.

How I love this little boy.  He is the BEST baby ever.  So happy, takes a pacifier, sleeps so well;  I have no complaints.  I love me some babies.

The aftermath

We came home from the hospital on a Sunday.  Brian was going to come get us, but I HAD to get out of there.  Annie was feeling better, and I was completely overwhelmed.  For the next few days Brian's mom stayed with us to help.

Help with what though?  I just needed time and information, and I really wanted to be alone so I could grieve privately.  I would go to bed each night in tears.  I lived for bedtime.  I could go to sleep and dream of a completely alternate reality.  Waking up was awful.  It was living the diagnosis over and over again with each sunrise.  I wanted to sleep and not wake up.  Yikes...actually putting those words down on paper is frightening.

I was depressed.  And I hated Texas with all my heart.  Dumb Texas and its weird germs and viruses that somehow contributed to my little girl having diabetes.

Norah was only 9 months old.  She was an awesome baby...not demanding at all, just went along for the ride.  I'm grateful for that.  I'm sure she will have issues later.  ;)

It was so hard.  My showers became my sanctuary.  I could stand in there, and cry, and pray to my Heavenly Father for help.  And after a bit, I would get out and go on with my day.

Anyway, my neighbor out here is a wonderful woman named Kathi.  I love her dearly.  And...her daughter is also a Type 1 diabetic.  She has helped me so much...she completely understands our new life.  Kathi provides help, advice, understanding, babysitting, you name it.  She is an angel.  Of all the houses we considered buying...how could it just be coincidence that we felt THIS house was the right one?

It is not coincidence.  Heavenly Father knows us, and what we need.  And it is just sometimes hard to acknowledge His help in our lives.

The last two and a half years have probably been the hardest of my life.  Every day seems to bring a new challenge with one kid or another.  Brian and I often laugh about how good things were in residency!  I thought that was hard.....how funny.

But I now rely on the guidance of the Holy Ghost more than I ever did before.  I used to feel pretty wise, I suppose...and now I know I don't have any idea how to best help these children of mine.  So I pray, and I ponder, and I ask for help.  And in these few short years, I can now recognize how much inspiration we can really have EVERY day.  For ANY problem.

Amazing.  I must be growing up.  :)

Annie has diabetes

Annie was barely two when we moved to Texas.  She seemed to be having a hard time adjusting.  She cried a lot and was super whiny.

As a side note, one  of my children started wetting the bed when we moved to Utah.  This was very odd, since this child never had worn pull-ups at all.  And had never wet the bed in the three years since that kid was potty-trained.  It was so weird that I decided to do some research on the internet about suddenly wetting the bed.  I ended up reading a lot about symptoms of type 1 diabetes.   I decided that this child might have it.  Thankfully, one of my good friends in Utah also had diabetes, so she checked this kid's sugar for me one day at church...totally normal.

Anyway, this kid eventually stopped again.  Weird...and yet I think it was a tender mercy from my Heavenly Father that would come into play a while later.

So Annie also started eating a LOT.  She was eating more than Julie (but that wasn't hard because Julie hardly ate anything).  Then she was thirsty.  REALLY thirsty.  When I was getting ready in the morning, Annie would come in and turn on the faucet and put her head under it, just gulping down water.

The next thing I noticed was that she was soaking through diapers in about 4 hours.  It must be related to how much she was drinking, I thought.  She was waking up wet every morning as well.  Now Norah was about 9 months old, and her diapers were not as full as Annie's diapers.  Still, I was troubled, but kept trying to rationalize it.  I decided to buy overnight diapers and try those.

Meanwhile, Brian and I did not have insurance.  His job had just recently started, and we had no benefits, so we were researching insurance companies and pricing things.  We were delaying because our monthly premiums were coming back so high...even though we picked a very high deductible plan.  We figured that was a good route for our family since we were all healthy.

One day I had to be at the church setting up chairs and things for a youth activity.  Annie and Norah were there, and Annie could not have been more miserable.  She followed me around crying nonstop.  One lady saw this and said..."Could she be hungry?"  Then she pulled out a king size Nut Roll, and Annie devoured it.  But instead of being happy, her behavior stayed the same.  More crying, more tantrums.

I had a very distinct feeling that day that we needed insurance.  I called Brian and told him I was just going to start the insurance plan that day.  He agreed.  I called, and we were set up.  Two days passed.

One night I put an overnight pull-up on her.  I still remember texting Brian in the morning, telling him that the pull-up had worked!  She was dry!  I was thrilled.  It was nothing after all....  but I was still unsettled.

It was Friday morning.  I put the three little girls in the bathtub.  And that is when I knew something was wrong.  Annie was so skinny!  I could see each little rib.  I immediately called the doctor and got an appointment for that afternoon.  On the drive there, I knew she was diabetic.  Her wetting so much, soaking through diapers at night...I had researched all of this before.

Her appointment went well, and they said she looked great.  I asked them to test her blood sugar because I wondered about diabetes.  They did.  The meter registered her as HIGH.  The nurse came in and told me to take her immediately to Childrens Hospital in Dallas.  Please, no.

I quickly made arrangements for my kids...my second cousin also lives nearby and took them all, texted my family, and headed to Dallas with Annie and Norah.  To say Brian and I were devastated is putting it lightly.  I had known two diabetic kids growing up, both who had died by the time I was in 7th grade.  My aunt was also diabetic and had recently been in a coma.  She barely survived.   Brian often treats patients who have diabetic complications...ulcers, amputations, etc.  We were in the depths of despair.

At the hospital, they tested her again.  Her blood sugar was about 560.  They were actually surprised I had caught on so quickly to the symptoms, since most little kids end up extremely sick or in a coma before diagnosis.  That hospital stay was a whirlwind of information, but Annie was the happiest I had seen her in a while.  She was feeling better.

That very same weekend, Brian's mother and sisters were in town.  They get together once a year, and this particular year they picked Dallas.  Why?

Miracles were happening all around us at this time.  Why had one of my children suddenly started wetting the bed?  I believe it was so I would recognize the symptoms of diabetes early.  Why did my in-laws pick Dallas to visit?  (seriously...why?  Dallas is not really a destination city, you know?)  Another miracle since I needed them so badly.  Brian had to work that weekend, so his mother came and stayed with my other kids.  Why did I feel like we needed insurance right NOW?  Again, so we could be protected when Annie was in the hospital just two days later.

I learned so much that weekend.  My favorite lesson was that the Lord is in the details of our lives.  He really is.