August 31, 2012
August 29, 2012
And then I thought...
people.
It's been a week of pure beauty.
I love my kids. I love them dearly.
I have also enjoyed them being gone everyday.
It's been 16 years.
16 years of having a small child (or several) at home.
This year I sent off all of my children.
Two in high school, and the rest in an elementary/preschool by my house.
They are excited, I am excited.
After Handsome's first day he said,
"Mama, after the sun goes down and I sleep, can I come back again?"
I guess what, I decided to let him.
I have 5 days with two and a half hours of time
to do as I choose.
I can hike, or grocery shop alone, read a book, clean without it being undone that minute...
imagine the freedom.
Funny thing is,
that I easily fill the space of time, without much challenge at all.
I have to continually remind myself that I don't have to call someone every free second
to fill the quiet.
And I started realizing,
that I have never been alone...never.
I was the oldest of 5 children, nannied in college, had a step daughter before my own, raised my niece for almost five years...and five of my own girls later, adopted a son, and here I am.
I don't think I realized how much I needed the quiet
until I heard it.
And now I realize how healing a bit of peace can be for the soul.
It is welcome.
And then I thought...
What will it be like when they are all gone?
and I don't have little body to snuggle with, or read to.
No sweet kisses on my ear, or sandwiches to make.
No scratches to bandage or tears to wipe.
No baby clothes to pick up, or tugging at my shirt as I make cookie dough.
Nobody to sing with in my car as I drive on my errands, and nobody to scold for fighting.
Nobody asking for help in the night with a bad dream, or an accident.
Nobody to remind me of my endless commitments of homework and activities.
No kisses good night, no baths to give, no heads of hair or teeth to brush.
And prayers at night will be said alone, with Jon at the end of a quiet day.
And then I thought
Someday that might make me sad, but for now I'll enjoy my two and a half hours of quiet.
Now run along kids, I'll see you after school.
August 28, 2012
Tips from an Amateur Wedding Photographer
Today I posted about my first wedding photo shoot over at The Solstice Sisters, my other blog!
August 22, 2012
My Baby is 16
A lot of things can happen in sixteen years.
Heaven knows, a lot has happened in my life the last sixteen years.
My daughter Kinley came into this world, ready to make a difference. She actually had her eyes open when she was born. She didn't cry, only looked around with interest in new environment - surrounded by love.
Both of her young Grandmothers were there, because one hadn't been able to give birth in her lifetime - having four adopted children of her own - and the other, because it was just weird to leave her out. I didn't plan on having any visitors, but in the moment it just felt right... all but the part when I was watching their faces along with my husbands, as I pushed her into this world. They all had pleasant faces, with a look of wonder - with a lace of shock. I was only almost twenty one years old at the time, and had spent the previous nine months preparing mostly alone for this birth.
You see, on my wedding day I was pregnant.
My mom and dad didn't know. My parents in law didn't know. In fact nobody knew, other than Jon and my two roomates in college. I look back and wonder why I didn't decide to tell anyone, and my best guess is that I didn't want people to think that my pregnancy was the reason I was getting married, because it wasn't. I had purchased my dress with my mom about six months previous, but just hadn't taken the final jump into my new life.
Because of my decision to keep Kinley a secret until after I was married, my pregnancy was very hard. I didn't have any knowledge about how to take care of my unborn baby. When I was sick and I didn't feel like eating, I didn't, which of course made me even more sick. I lived in the bathroom, throwing up bile for months, and by the time I was married at four months along, I still fit in my tiny sized dress and weighed 115 pounds. I decided to call "ask a nurse" after a few months, and was referred several names from a directory that she read me over the phone. I picked a doctor that actually had a poster of Brad Pitt on the ceiling above the bed in his office. I remember him telling me that it was an old wives tale, that women's hips spread when they gave birth - making them larger, and that it wasn't an excuse to gain weight. He has since been convicted of tax evasion, and sent to prison. Not that the two have anything to do with each other, but curious.
My wedding went along just fine. I loved Jon, and his daughter Sydney that would soon be my step daughter. She had been around from the start. Jon talked about her constantly, and how much he loved her. He spoke of wanting a good wife, so she would grow up with a good step mom and know she was loved. In all truth, there were times that Jon and I weren't getting along but I loved Syd so much that it helped me be more patient. Sydney was four when we were married, and a little spit fire. As she walked down the isle at our wedding with her flower basket, she waited until the end and just dumped all the rose petals on the floor in one big heap. Syd was never a girlie girl. She was fast, and fun, and sure of herself. Not much has changed.
After Jon and I were married, I knew I needed to get up the courage to tell my parents that I was already pregnant, but I kept putting it off because I felt bad for not telling them sooner. I remember the night Jon and I told both of our parents, like it was yesterday. Both were shocked, but knew there wasn't anything to say about it at that point anyway. I remember showing my mom my now six month developed belly for the first time, and barely unsnapping my jeans to let it free. After I told people about Kinley, it was as if my body knew it has permission to grow and it did just that. I gained 60 pounds by the end of my pregnancy, catching up to my previous starting weight and then a lot more.
For whatever reason, that idiot doctor let me go 10 days over my due date. By this point I had gone running, four wheeling, swinging at the park, and even drank castor oil to get her here. I still remember how it tasted, because it was the most discusting thing I had ever ingested. I remember deciding that it wasn't working, until about 30 minutes had gone by and I heard the most rip roaring, gut wrenching sound I had ever heard. Alas, no baby - just an afternoon spent in the bathroom.
When I finally started having contractions, it took 24 hours to actually go into active labor. Jon drove me to the hospital, got me comfortable and left to go get some lunch for us. As I laid there on the hospital bed, I felt so scared and alone. I was excited that it would Kinley would finally be born, but I was so nervous. It was my first baby, and I had nothing to compare it to. And then, my water broke, right there on the bed, and nobody was there to help me. I looked around for a nurse call button, and couldn't find anything. The tears were finally set free from a place they had been hidden for months, and I cried. I thought that once that water broke, the baby would come right then and there on the table with a few pushes. I don't remember how long I laid there, but eventually Jon walked in with lunch and some roses. I looked up at him, and he rushed over to hold me. He ran out to find a nurse, and the real fun began.
As I said before, Kinley was alert. She was beautiful. She had dark brown hair, and blue eyes. They actually had to hold her up in the cold air for a minute so she would cry and clear her lungs. She just wasn't scared. As I look back, I believe that this was a foreshadowing of her personality. Her kind, sweet spirit was aparent from the very beginning. She had brought her parents together in a way that nothing else could have. She was a physical presence that bonded her parents love for each other. I think she knew that too. She was already taking part in a plan much bigger than any of us. I believe that children come to us, and bless our lives, whether through birth, or adoption and even know of their journey they will take.
Kinley grew up fast, relishing in speech right from the beginning. She spoke the words "ma ma" at FIVE months old, and she hasn't stopped talking since. She slept all day, and it was a challenge to get her to wake up even to eat. She snuggled in the bed beside me for eight months, as Jon and I struggled through the first year of our marriage. I sang "You are my Sunshine" to her several times a day, and it was true, she was my sunshine. She was the light of my life. Sydney and Kinley were so cute together, and it was so fun to see their sisterly bond develop. They took naps together, ran around in the yard, played with the cat and told each other secrets.
As a young child, Kinley began to test my patience. I often worried that I wouldn't be able to handle her as a teenager because of her constant need to be in my face, and her overactive imagination and idea of what telling the truth was. She defied me because it ws fun, and a challenge. I once found a CTR ring on her finger that stands for "choose the right" in our church, that was STOLEN from the store. Or another time I saw her changing in the front yard because she wanted to ride her bike to school in her skirt, and I was worried it would get caught in the spokes. Or the many times she screamed from her bedroom for hours because she wanted ice cream, or some other random item. I have wondered if this began because I let her sleep with me for so long, but I will never know.
Today my baby is turning sixteen. She still retains her characteristics of being wide eyed, enjoying life, calm, a peacemaker, a talker, a story teller (without lying) , and a beautiful daughter that brings people together - just as she did as a baby. She still doesn't like to sleep, and comes in my bedroom several times every night to tell us goodnight and she loves us, and to say goodbye in the morning before school unless I'm still sleeping (I had to request that one). She laughs with me, confides in me, tricks me with her sarcasm and wit "because I'm too gullible", helps with the kids, is careful of helping all around her and finds much happiness in serving special needs children.
Kinley is one of my best friends, one of several children I consider to hold that title. She is a blessing, and a happy light in all of our lives.
In a few hours, I will be surprising her beyond belief and I am so excited! She has been sad for several years that she hasn't had lots of friends because of moving from school to school. She has always wanted a big 16 birthday party, but knows she wouldn't have enough people to come. So Jon and I decided to shock her today, on the first day of school and on her birthday. At lunch, I have rented a catering company that makes huge snow cones to come to her highschool for lunch time and serve everyone, in exchange for taking wishing her a happy birthday.
She will d.i.e.
She is kind of shy at school...which is so weird to me, but today she will have no choice but to meet people! So excuse me, as I go get a banner and balloons to attach to the snow cone shack. We will be surprising her at 12:00...and I am already laughing at her reaction. I'll post pictures of the surprise as soon as I can.
August 20, 2012
The Janitor
One
day Jon and I were sitting in a restaurant, and a man pulled up in a shiny,
black 7 series BMW with the word "LAWYER" on the license plate.
I
laughed.
I told Jon that we needed to take pride in what we do for a
living, and I said we should put it on our car. I can't tell you how
many random people have taken pictures of it ever since. Yes, we are proud to
clean buildings for a living.
August 16, 2012
ketchup
I have had a lot brewing in this mind of mine lately.
I have big goals, and big dreams... always. I have been blogging for about three and a half years now, and I have felt a shift coming for a bit. I will never give up Pink Moss, but I do feel like it will change over time. Basically, I became bored of just talking about myself all the time - and was craving something new. I will always share stories and thoughts here about my family, but it is nice to feel less pressure of posting every day. Even though I rarely, if ever did...it was always on my mind.
Starting the "Solstice Sisters" blog has been a breath of fresh air, and I've had so much fun developing the website. I have found a true love in design and working with photoshop with pictures, fonts, colors, and such. I could even see myself doing it for a business, maybe designing wordpress blogs. That would be more long term - if ever - I also love photography.... so we will see. But for now, I am so excited about starting a store that will be linked to the Solstice Sisters Site, wish I had more time to work on it. Soon enough. I do love knowing that my other blog is written on every day, by 7 different fun girls *one being yours truly of course*
It's all I can do to keep up with my kids this last week of summer right now. Pretty soon, all of the kids will be in school! Can you believe it? I remember saying this about two years ago, right before Handsome came to live with us. Halle had just started preschool, and I had a few hours to myself in the morning. I actually took a picture of myself on the hammock while reading a book, a few weeks before he came. Ever since then, it has been a whirlwind through toddler hood - especially an adopted toddler. He has been a full time job, to say the least.
Handsome is doing REALLY WELL. I am not kidding, he is the apple of my eye. He is SO smart, and EVERYONE says so when they talk to him. He NEVER shuts that darling little mouth of his. Question after question after question. It never ends. "mom mom mom mom mom mom mom mom" I am not exagerating ONE. BIT. Everyone groans when he doesn't stop ever. But all the question asking, has gained him a lot of knowledge. This is a conversation we had today.
"Mom why don't I have to wipe when I go pee?"
"Because you are a boy"
"So why do people wipe?"
"So they don't stink"
"Oh so girls stink, and boys don't stink?"
me laughing...out loud in the stall...
"No, boys have a penis, and girls ... don't."
"OH....boys have a penis, and girls have a front bum."
That's where I decided to cut off this little teaching moment for today. I didn't want to teach anymore body parts today. We walked back out to the soccer field with Halle, and he threw grass and did sommersaults down the hill as we watched Brighton stop the ball from going in the goal, time after time. She did awesome!
I hope everyone is enjoying the end of summer! I know we have been :) We start the first of next week! The first day of school is Kinley's sweet 16 birthday. I. can't. believe. it. What happened to my baby?
time flies!
I have big goals, and big dreams... always. I have been blogging for about three and a half years now, and I have felt a shift coming for a bit. I will never give up Pink Moss, but I do feel like it will change over time. Basically, I became bored of just talking about myself all the time - and was craving something new. I will always share stories and thoughts here about my family, but it is nice to feel less pressure of posting every day. Even though I rarely, if ever did...it was always on my mind.
Starting the "Solstice Sisters" blog has been a breath of fresh air, and I've had so much fun developing the website. I have found a true love in design and working with photoshop with pictures, fonts, colors, and such. I could even see myself doing it for a business, maybe designing wordpress blogs. That would be more long term - if ever - I also love photography.... so we will see. But for now, I am so excited about starting a store that will be linked to the Solstice Sisters Site, wish I had more time to work on it. Soon enough. I do love knowing that my other blog is written on every day, by 7 different fun girls *one being yours truly of course*
It's all I can do to keep up with my kids this last week of summer right now. Pretty soon, all of the kids will be in school! Can you believe it? I remember saying this about two years ago, right before Handsome came to live with us. Halle had just started preschool, and I had a few hours to myself in the morning. I actually took a picture of myself on the hammock while reading a book, a few weeks before he came. Ever since then, it has been a whirlwind through toddler hood - especially an adopted toddler. He has been a full time job, to say the least.
Handsome is doing REALLY WELL. I am not kidding, he is the apple of my eye. He is SO smart, and EVERYONE says so when they talk to him. He NEVER shuts that darling little mouth of his. Question after question after question. It never ends. "mom mom mom mom mom mom mom mom" I am not exagerating ONE. BIT. Everyone groans when he doesn't stop ever. But all the question asking, has gained him a lot of knowledge. This is a conversation we had today.
"Mom why don't I have to wipe when I go pee?"
"Because you are a boy"
"So why do people wipe?"
"So they don't stink"
"Oh so girls stink, and boys don't stink?"
me laughing...out loud in the stall...
"No, boys have a penis, and girls ... don't."
"OH....boys have a penis, and girls have a front bum."
That's where I decided to cut off this little teaching moment for today. I didn't want to teach anymore body parts today. We walked back out to the soccer field with Halle, and he threw grass and did sommersaults down the hill as we watched Brighton stop the ball from going in the goal, time after time. She did awesome!
I hope everyone is enjoying the end of summer! I know we have been :) We start the first of next week! The first day of school is Kinley's sweet 16 birthday. I. can't. believe. it. What happened to my baby?
time flies!
August 14, 2012
Top 10 Tips on Thrift Shopping
Remember, I post on my other blog on Tuesdays....and "Top 10 Tips on Thrift shopping" is the topic I wrote about! I started a give away today as well, for a pearl necklace! So, come on over and check out my new venture...."The Solstice Sisters"!
xo
August 13, 2012
Ella, my monkey, is 9
My Ella, is 9. It's quite unbelievable actually. She has never been a challenging girl to raise. She has been able to listen to reason, since she could talk. She has never screamed at me, and if she talks back in a whine (which she is finally trying on for size the past year or so) it's barely audible. She is full of snuggles, and love. Combine that with a deep need to win, and you have Ella.
I remember once at a football game we went to, she would cheer her little heart out until we scored, "get em! Get em!!" and then she'd turn to me when they were crushed and say, "are they ok, I just feel bad that we tackled them.."
Ella is very strong physically, and tender on the inside. This always makes for funny happenings, like the time she ran to give 80 year old Grandma Ginny, and knocked her over When she was FIVE. Or when she knocked over my 35 year old friend Kent, at the airport on the way to Hawaii.
I love that girl. Happy Birthday, sweet Ella. We celebrated at Lagoon on Saturday, and her cute sisters blew up a ton of balloons, and taped them to her closed door do they would fall in when she woke up... So cute, and fun to see them party with each other without my direction.
Xo
I remember once at a football game we went to, she would cheer her little heart out until we scored, "get em! Get em!!" and then she'd turn to me when they were crushed and say, "are they ok, I just feel bad that we tackled them.."
Ella is very strong physically, and tender on the inside. This always makes for funny happenings, like the time she ran to give 80 year old Grandma Ginny, and knocked her over When she was FIVE. Or when she knocked over my 35 year old friend Kent, at the airport on the way to Hawaii.
I love that girl. Happy Birthday, sweet Ella. We celebrated at Lagoon on Saturday, and her cute sisters blew up a ton of balloons, and taped them to her closed door do they would fall in when she woke up... So cute, and fun to see them party with each other without my direction.
Xo
August 6, 2012
I had an itch
I had an itch to drive to my cabin yesterday, so I did.. And drug along my sister. Big "Solstice Sister" ideas in the works! Head on over, and enter to win the first give away!
August 3, 2012
High school!
Just getting ready to register Whitney for High School! I must be getting old. It seems strange, especially since I just blogged about her accident when she was three, just yesterday.
August 2, 2012
The Accident: Part Two
I felt nostalgic as I descended off the hills of my childhood, once again. I remember the night before I moved out of my house, at the end of summer before college started. Somehow, I knew I would never be back home, not in the same way at least. I walked upstairs to my parents bedroom to say good night for the last time. They asked me how I felt, and I teared up. I explained my excitement for my new adventure, and my fears. But deep down my real feelings were for the end of the first phase of my life, and knowingly moving onto the second. I was only seventeen years old, because I was young for my grade - an age that now I know is still a child. I felt much older and mature, a thought that makes me laugh now.
Fast forward eight years from that night, and I was sitting in the front of a fire engine red Suburban, with my step daughter Syd, my niece Shauntyl, Kinley, Whitney, and tiny baby Brighton in the back. That's right, five kids in five years of marriage because of our situation. I was 25 years old.
On our way to Ally's house, the kids chatted in the back - and Brighton, our baby at the time was snuggled up in her car seat, no doubt ready for her next meal. We were on a time crunch though, and I knew we needed to get there soon. When we finally arrived, we pulled up in front of her darling house, and went inside to say hi.
"Ok Ally, how are we going to do this? We have all these kids, and they will just be in the way as Jon and Mike clean the carpets."
She pointed to the motor home sitting in front of her house on the road. "Why don't we just hang out in there until they are done?" she offered.
It was a great idea! They kids were excited about the adventure, and they all hurried inside to find their favorite spot. "I get this chair!" yelled Kinely. "I get the couch!" yelled another. We were proud of ourselves for creating such an adventure, right in their front yard. We sat down right in the mist of them all, and I began to nurse Brighton. She had waited long enough to be fed and was getting fussy.
There was a TV set up in the motor home, that sat up on top of the bed above the drivers seats. It was one of those big televisions that used to be the size of a box, not the flat screens we have now. It was playing "101 Dalmatians - 2" for us, a welcome distraction so the mommies could catch up on life. Kinley jumped up and said, "Now I want to sit over there!" and ran across the motor home to the back bed that looked so inviting, and Whitney slide into the swivel chair with a big grin on her face.
I missed Ally. We have memories that go back as far as we can remember - and it was so fun to dig in and laugh at years gone by. We played at Grandma Janes as kids, I stayed over at her house when we were little, we went on trips to Lake Powell - Flaming George - Jackson Hole. We ended up in High School together, dancing at the stomps and dressing up in camo for fun on weekends to spy on people. It was also Ally the moved down to college with me. I actually went to UVCC because she was going there, because we would be roommates. Funny how that one decision decided my entire life.
At some point in our catching up conversation, nursing, glancing at the kids, and the TV - it happened. Without a cause, that enormous TV tilted and fell five feet from it's resting place - and hit my three year old Whitney, on the face. She was sitting right below it on the chair, and she didn't have a chance to move because it happened so fast. I screamed as terror racked through my body and soul. I set baby Brighton down on the couch beside me. I dove for my Whitney, as the television laid below her feet. It had rolled off from the impact and the angle of her body in the chair.
My Whitney was screaming. I was in shock. My world stopped, and I felt as though I was spinning out of control. I scooped her up into my shaking arms, and looked into her tiny face. It was covered in blood, and her nose was split open from the center of the bridge, all the way through her top lip. I was nauseous, and held her close. I stumbled out of the motor home, holding her in my arms with my hand over her face trying to hold down the bleeding, and screamed...
"JON!!!!!!!"
Even over the loud carpet cleaning machines, he heard me. It was the sound of a frantic mother. A sound I have never since heard coming out of my mouth. It was almost guttural - a call from my soul. Everything was a blur, and I feared from my Noo Noo's life. I couldn't lose her... Jon ran out of the house with a terrified look on his face and yelled, "WHAT HAPPENED!!?" I started explaining and crying all at the same time as we ran for our car. Jon opened that door to the back seat of the car, and I climbed in to sit, clinging to Whitney. This was one time I was grateful that Jon is a skilled, fast driver. He only slowed at the stop lights to check for safety, and then drove through. As we traveled, I explained through sobs what had happened. How the TV was pushed way back on top of the bed and nothing at all bumped it or pulled the cord. How maybe it was just front heavy, and caused it to roll off.
"It's okay Whitney. It will be okay..." I tried to console her, even though my heart felt like her face looked, broken beyond repair. She cried in my arms, the sound was gut wrenching. She was in pain, and I was helpless.
We pulled up in front of Davis Hospital in about eight minutes, and got out of the car. We walked straight into the emergency room and asked for help. The nurses saw Whitney, and rushed us into the doctors office. I began filling out paperwork with my shaking hand, as the nurses tried to console Whitney. It wasn't working. She wanted mom.
They explained to me that they would need to take x-rays of her skull to make sure there wasn't any brain damage, before they could do anything to fix her face. This seemed fair enough, but I had no idea what that would entail. First of all, Whitney was inconsolable and terrified as they tried to check her vital signs. "Mrs. Moss, did Whitney pass out when the TV hit her face?" he asked. "ummm, no - I don't think so - no." I stammered. "Ok, well that is at least a good thing."
Whitney's face was swelling as we spoke. It became so large around her blueberry colored eyes, and her tiny freckles. My baby was unrecognizable. Part of me wanted to run away from all the bright lights and people, and just rock with her on our chair at home...but I couldn't. We were stuck in a reality I couldn't alter.
"Mrs. Moss, maybe if you leave the room, Whitney will calm down so we can get some x-rays taken." I knew this idea wouldn't go over well, but I was determined to try anything to get her checked out. I left. Whitney's screams became louder and louder. After about thirty minutes, they gave up and had me come back in. "Mrs. Moss, we are going to give her some medicine that will help her calm down so we can take the x-rays." I agreed, and watched helplessly. The shot needle came out, and all hope of any calming was out of the question. The medicine wasn't working. We decided to try to take the pictures anyway, but after several failed attempts - they gave up because she wouldn't hold still. They came over with another shot, and gave her a second dose. She calmed a bit, but started hallucinating.
"MOM..." "MOM...." she called to me across the room. They decided to put an xray apron over me, so maybe they could get the pictures. I walked over and held her tiny hand. "Mommies here. You will be ok." trying to comfort her, as Jon had been trying to comfort me minutes earlier. "MOM..." her laughter began..."MOOOOOMMMMMMMM..... YOU HAVE TWO NOSES!!!" I glanced at Jon with huge eyes, silently searching for some help. "MOOOOMMMMM...!!!!!" Her laughter turned into screams.
We were done. We were getting no answers. After lots of tries, we finally got enough still shots for the doctor to asses that her brain hadn't been damaged, which was an enormous relief. I was weak, tired, and helpless. They told us that they needed to stitch up her face, as Whitney continued to scream. So many hours of her screaming had run us all ragged. We wanted to help her, but there was nothing we could do. Jon, being the problem solver that he is, pipped up and said,
"We are going to Primary Children's Medical Center. I want her face stitched up by an expert." I think they were shocked, but as I look back, I am grateful for Jon making this decision. I was too worn out to think straight. Jon went and got the car, picked us up and drove like a bat out of Hell to the world renowned hospital, Primary Children's Medical Center, in Salt Lake City, Utah. When we rushed in, they were shocked that the other hospital hadn't insisted on us taking the ambulance. We explained that they weren't very good at anything they did, and they just nodded their heads.
At this point, our luck changed. They sweet nurses brought Whitney over a stuffed animal, and we could hear soothing music playing in the background. As we checked in, there were Disney videos playing and sweet speaking people, calming helping us get settled. They were quick, and efficient as well. We were taken into a surgical room, and assured that one of the best surgeons in the country would be piecing Whitney's face back together.
You can imagine my shock and pleasure, as a darling young Japanese woman came in and introduced herself. She proceeded to tell us what steps she would take, and offered us some chairs to watch if we wanted to stay. She quickly gave Whitney a shot that make her fall asleep as I held her hand. Then she draped a large paperweight cloth over her entire body, with a hole cut out laying right over her nose and mouth.
I watched as she rolled up a small chair, sat down and threaded the needle accurately the first time. Obviously something she had done time and time again with precision. She slid up, legs apart as to get really close to the bed - and began stitching, like her skin was a patchwork quilt. Jon was immediately intrigued, and I was feeling like I was going to lose my lunch. "I'll just step outside..." I muttered, and shuffled into the hall. I watched through the rectangular window every so often when I felt bold.
I couldn't believe how fast it was all over. My emotions were raw. We had been up all night long, and it was close to sun up. My family visited, and gave her a blessing of quick recovery. I felt so grateful that I hadn't lost my child. I felt humbled from my lack of response to my promptings to stay home. People often ask me how I hear answers, or why I am so in tune. I would mark this event as a turning toward listening to the spirit. I have since made course corrections when I feel uneasy, even if I think the thought might be coming from myself. It's just safer that way. I thank my Heavenly Father for my children, each one. They are all a blessing. My heart beats outside of my body, in each of them.
Fast forward eight years from that night, and I was sitting in the front of a fire engine red Suburban, with my step daughter Syd, my niece Shauntyl, Kinley, Whitney, and tiny baby Brighton in the back. That's right, five kids in five years of marriage because of our situation. I was 25 years old.
On our way to Ally's house, the kids chatted in the back - and Brighton, our baby at the time was snuggled up in her car seat, no doubt ready for her next meal. We were on a time crunch though, and I knew we needed to get there soon. When we finally arrived, we pulled up in front of her darling house, and went inside to say hi.
"Ok Ally, how are we going to do this? We have all these kids, and they will just be in the way as Jon and Mike clean the carpets."
She pointed to the motor home sitting in front of her house on the road. "Why don't we just hang out in there until they are done?" she offered.
It was a great idea! They kids were excited about the adventure, and they all hurried inside to find their favorite spot. "I get this chair!" yelled Kinely. "I get the couch!" yelled another. We were proud of ourselves for creating such an adventure, right in their front yard. We sat down right in the mist of them all, and I began to nurse Brighton. She had waited long enough to be fed and was getting fussy.
There was a TV set up in the motor home, that sat up on top of the bed above the drivers seats. It was one of those big televisions that used to be the size of a box, not the flat screens we have now. It was playing "101 Dalmatians - 2" for us, a welcome distraction so the mommies could catch up on life. Kinley jumped up and said, "Now I want to sit over there!" and ran across the motor home to the back bed that looked so inviting, and Whitney slide into the swivel chair with a big grin on her face.
I missed Ally. We have memories that go back as far as we can remember - and it was so fun to dig in and laugh at years gone by. We played at Grandma Janes as kids, I stayed over at her house when we were little, we went on trips to Lake Powell - Flaming George - Jackson Hole. We ended up in High School together, dancing at the stomps and dressing up in camo for fun on weekends to spy on people. It was also Ally the moved down to college with me. I actually went to UVCC because she was going there, because we would be roommates. Funny how that one decision decided my entire life.
At some point in our catching up conversation, nursing, glancing at the kids, and the TV - it happened. Without a cause, that enormous TV tilted and fell five feet from it's resting place - and hit my three year old Whitney, on the face. She was sitting right below it on the chair, and she didn't have a chance to move because it happened so fast. I screamed as terror racked through my body and soul. I set baby Brighton down on the couch beside me. I dove for my Whitney, as the television laid below her feet. It had rolled off from the impact and the angle of her body in the chair.
My Whitney was screaming. I was in shock. My world stopped, and I felt as though I was spinning out of control. I scooped her up into my shaking arms, and looked into her tiny face. It was covered in blood, and her nose was split open from the center of the bridge, all the way through her top lip. I was nauseous, and held her close. I stumbled out of the motor home, holding her in my arms with my hand over her face trying to hold down the bleeding, and screamed...
"JON!!!!!!!"
Even over the loud carpet cleaning machines, he heard me. It was the sound of a frantic mother. A sound I have never since heard coming out of my mouth. It was almost guttural - a call from my soul. Everything was a blur, and I feared from my Noo Noo's life. I couldn't lose her... Jon ran out of the house with a terrified look on his face and yelled, "WHAT HAPPENED!!?" I started explaining and crying all at the same time as we ran for our car. Jon opened that door to the back seat of the car, and I climbed in to sit, clinging to Whitney. This was one time I was grateful that Jon is a skilled, fast driver. He only slowed at the stop lights to check for safety, and then drove through. As we traveled, I explained through sobs what had happened. How the TV was pushed way back on top of the bed and nothing at all bumped it or pulled the cord. How maybe it was just front heavy, and caused it to roll off.
"It's okay Whitney. It will be okay..." I tried to console her, even though my heart felt like her face looked, broken beyond repair. She cried in my arms, the sound was gut wrenching. She was in pain, and I was helpless.
We pulled up in front of Davis Hospital in about eight minutes, and got out of the car. We walked straight into the emergency room and asked for help. The nurses saw Whitney, and rushed us into the doctors office. I began filling out paperwork with my shaking hand, as the nurses tried to console Whitney. It wasn't working. She wanted mom.
They explained to me that they would need to take x-rays of her skull to make sure there wasn't any brain damage, before they could do anything to fix her face. This seemed fair enough, but I had no idea what that would entail. First of all, Whitney was inconsolable and terrified as they tried to check her vital signs. "Mrs. Moss, did Whitney pass out when the TV hit her face?" he asked. "ummm, no - I don't think so - no." I stammered. "Ok, well that is at least a good thing."
Whitney's face was swelling as we spoke. It became so large around her blueberry colored eyes, and her tiny freckles. My baby was unrecognizable. Part of me wanted to run away from all the bright lights and people, and just rock with her on our chair at home...but I couldn't. We were stuck in a reality I couldn't alter.
"Mrs. Moss, maybe if you leave the room, Whitney will calm down so we can get some x-rays taken." I knew this idea wouldn't go over well, but I was determined to try anything to get her checked out. I left. Whitney's screams became louder and louder. After about thirty minutes, they gave up and had me come back in. "Mrs. Moss, we are going to give her some medicine that will help her calm down so we can take the x-rays." I agreed, and watched helplessly. The shot needle came out, and all hope of any calming was out of the question. The medicine wasn't working. We decided to try to take the pictures anyway, but after several failed attempts - they gave up because she wouldn't hold still. They came over with another shot, and gave her a second dose. She calmed a bit, but started hallucinating.
"MOM..." "MOM...." she called to me across the room. They decided to put an xray apron over me, so maybe they could get the pictures. I walked over and held her tiny hand. "Mommies here. You will be ok." trying to comfort her, as Jon had been trying to comfort me minutes earlier. "MOM..." her laughter began..."MOOOOOMMMMMMMM..... YOU HAVE TWO NOSES!!!" I glanced at Jon with huge eyes, silently searching for some help. "MOOOOMMMMM...!!!!!" Her laughter turned into screams.
We were done. We were getting no answers. After lots of tries, we finally got enough still shots for the doctor to asses that her brain hadn't been damaged, which was an enormous relief. I was weak, tired, and helpless. They told us that they needed to stitch up her face, as Whitney continued to scream. So many hours of her screaming had run us all ragged. We wanted to help her, but there was nothing we could do. Jon, being the problem solver that he is, pipped up and said,
"We are going to Primary Children's Medical Center. I want her face stitched up by an expert." I think they were shocked, but as I look back, I am grateful for Jon making this decision. I was too worn out to think straight. Jon went and got the car, picked us up and drove like a bat out of Hell to the world renowned hospital, Primary Children's Medical Center, in Salt Lake City, Utah. When we rushed in, they were shocked that the other hospital hadn't insisted on us taking the ambulance. We explained that they weren't very good at anything they did, and they just nodded their heads.
At this point, our luck changed. They sweet nurses brought Whitney over a stuffed animal, and we could hear soothing music playing in the background. As we checked in, there were Disney videos playing and sweet speaking people, calming helping us get settled. They were quick, and efficient as well. We were taken into a surgical room, and assured that one of the best surgeons in the country would be piecing Whitney's face back together.
You can imagine my shock and pleasure, as a darling young Japanese woman came in and introduced herself. She proceeded to tell us what steps she would take, and offered us some chairs to watch if we wanted to stay. She quickly gave Whitney a shot that make her fall asleep as I held her hand. Then she draped a large paperweight cloth over her entire body, with a hole cut out laying right over her nose and mouth.
I watched as she rolled up a small chair, sat down and threaded the needle accurately the first time. Obviously something she had done time and time again with precision. She slid up, legs apart as to get really close to the bed - and began stitching, like her skin was a patchwork quilt. Jon was immediately intrigued, and I was feeling like I was going to lose my lunch. "I'll just step outside..." I muttered, and shuffled into the hall. I watched through the rectangular window every so often when I felt bold.
I couldn't believe how fast it was all over. My emotions were raw. We had been up all night long, and it was close to sun up. My family visited, and gave her a blessing of quick recovery. I felt so grateful that I hadn't lost my child. I felt humbled from my lack of response to my promptings to stay home. People often ask me how I hear answers, or why I am so in tune. I would mark this event as a turning toward listening to the spirit. I have since made course corrections when I feel uneasy, even if I think the thought might be coming from myself. It's just safer that way. I thank my Heavenly Father for my children, each one. They are all a blessing. My heart beats outside of my body, in each of them.
They are my light, and my life.
These were taken about a week after the accident, the best picture I could find. All of our old pictures were taken on disposable cameras, nothing close to the pictures now.
Later that summer. Now you can barely see a faint line if you look close at Whitney's face. It's amazing the recovery she made.
August 1, 2012
The Accident: Part One
"Are you still coming out to my house tonight?" Ally asked
"Sure! We will be there in about an hour for dinner." I promised. We had decided to get our families together and have pizza, while Jon helped clean their carpets.
I looked across the expansive lawn, toward my cousin Ally. Our grandma's house on the ranch had been our stomping ground of our formative years. It sat on the top of the hills in Bountiful, complete with a dusty barn, and serene friendly horses that meandered in the corral. I remember one of my favorites, Sheeba. Even her name took my imagination places you would see pictured in a story book. She was a beautiful pure white horse, that any girl would love to call her own. Sheeba was a parade gal in her younger days, and now she spent her time living at Grandma Janes.
But even more than Sheeba, my favorite was Sunny. Sunny and Robbie were two paint horses that were like brothers. Robbie was a brown paint with white spots, (who we decided was Ally's) and Sunny was a white paint with brown spots, (who was "mine"). The thing that stood out the most, were Sunny's eyes. He had one green, and one brown eye. It sometimes felt like I was dealing with two different personalities as I gazed onto each side of his face. We were buddies. We rode together over mountains, through trees and hidden places. We didn't need to talk, we just were comfortable together.
As I yelled my promise of a visit to Ally from my car, I felt sick. I wasn't sure if a bug was coming on, or if my stomach was just uneasy for some reason - but something was wrong. "I'm not feeling that well, but I still plan on coming out. Maybe I'm just hungry." I wanted to cancel, but I felt bad. One can only ditch on plans so many times before it is just awkward. But still, the nagging feeling in my stomach and the dripping sweat wouldn't go away. It felt hollow, uneasy. It didn't make sense to me, and I continued pushing away the reoccurring thought ...."Don't Go."
We watched the kids play at Grandma's house for a while, as my mind took a trip into the past. Now my kids were running through the wild flowers, picking bouquets and neatly tucking them in blond curls behind their ears, just as I had once done. Each took a turn climbing in my Grandpa's hand made steel rocket ship contraption, that had hung there for a lifetime. Heaven forbid anyone ran in front of those four bomb looking machines, held by metal chains and powered by a motor that propelled it around and around in circles. Two kids could sit in each one, and it was a blast - unless the bees had built there hives in them that year.
The other main attraction was the riding lawn mower. My dad drove around for hours mowing, and we took advantage of the chance to ride in the trailer that it pulled. We bounced and giggled in the back, while dad bounced and giggled in the drivers seat taking large circles, around the homestead. Down from the barn on the hill, around the round about with cactus planted inside, brought from my Grandma's condo in Mexico, up to the house, around the back side that looked over all of Salt Lake City where we used to let off fireworks, past the hot tub and up again. Our noses were filled with the smell of freshly cut grass, and tickled as it flew around our faces. I don't think we ever made a trip to Grandma Janes without my brother Dave suffering from some kind of allergy.
As I stared at the yard, now yellowed and sparse since my Grandma's passing - I wondered how long I would be able to share this piece of heaven with my children. There was already talk of selling. The lump rose in my throat again, like a monster waiting inside to climb it's ways out my eyes in liquid form. Wasn't this land ours? Don't you become one with dirt when you spend so much time with it? It had been tilled and taken care of by my mom and her family for a generation, and her grandparents before her.... back until the first settlers, the Mormon pioneers. My mom picked part of the ranch to build her home on when she was married. It was lovingly deemed "The Picnic Spot", because it is where they always rode their horses for a picnic. It had a stream, and large maple trees scattered down through a gully in the canyon. The picnic spot was my home, my childhood haven.
I was jerked back into reality when one of my children called my name, a sound I hear countless times a day, and easily ignore. "Mama, are we going to Ally's house still?" so I began ushering in the littles, deciding it was time to go. My head was full of memories, and my stomach was full of foreboding. We pulled out of Grandmas, through the enormous pines that my mom used to drag a hose around a water as a child, and off the hill to the the freeway. A moment I wished I could take back ever.
I often ask myself why I didn't listen. Knowing now, that those feelings were a clear physical warning of danger; a feeling I will try to never set aside again.
***********************
This story was say too long for one post. My times up today :)
"Sure! We will be there in about an hour for dinner." I promised. We had decided to get our families together and have pizza, while Jon helped clean their carpets.
I looked across the expansive lawn, toward my cousin Ally. Our grandma's house on the ranch had been our stomping ground of our formative years. It sat on the top of the hills in Bountiful, complete with a dusty barn, and serene friendly horses that meandered in the corral. I remember one of my favorites, Sheeba. Even her name took my imagination places you would see pictured in a story book. She was a beautiful pure white horse, that any girl would love to call her own. Sheeba was a parade gal in her younger days, and now she spent her time living at Grandma Janes.
But even more than Sheeba, my favorite was Sunny. Sunny and Robbie were two paint horses that were like brothers. Robbie was a brown paint with white spots, (who we decided was Ally's) and Sunny was a white paint with brown spots, (who was "mine"). The thing that stood out the most, were Sunny's eyes. He had one green, and one brown eye. It sometimes felt like I was dealing with two different personalities as I gazed onto each side of his face. We were buddies. We rode together over mountains, through trees and hidden places. We didn't need to talk, we just were comfortable together.
As I yelled my promise of a visit to Ally from my car, I felt sick. I wasn't sure if a bug was coming on, or if my stomach was just uneasy for some reason - but something was wrong. "I'm not feeling that well, but I still plan on coming out. Maybe I'm just hungry." I wanted to cancel, but I felt bad. One can only ditch on plans so many times before it is just awkward. But still, the nagging feeling in my stomach and the dripping sweat wouldn't go away. It felt hollow, uneasy. It didn't make sense to me, and I continued pushing away the reoccurring thought ...."Don't Go."
We watched the kids play at Grandma's house for a while, as my mind took a trip into the past. Now my kids were running through the wild flowers, picking bouquets and neatly tucking them in blond curls behind their ears, just as I had once done. Each took a turn climbing in my Grandpa's hand made steel rocket ship contraption, that had hung there for a lifetime. Heaven forbid anyone ran in front of those four bomb looking machines, held by metal chains and powered by a motor that propelled it around and around in circles. Two kids could sit in each one, and it was a blast - unless the bees had built there hives in them that year.
The other main attraction was the riding lawn mower. My dad drove around for hours mowing, and we took advantage of the chance to ride in the trailer that it pulled. We bounced and giggled in the back, while dad bounced and giggled in the drivers seat taking large circles, around the homestead. Down from the barn on the hill, around the round about with cactus planted inside, brought from my Grandma's condo in Mexico, up to the house, around the back side that looked over all of Salt Lake City where we used to let off fireworks, past the hot tub and up again. Our noses were filled with the smell of freshly cut grass, and tickled as it flew around our faces. I don't think we ever made a trip to Grandma Janes without my brother Dave suffering from some kind of allergy.
As I stared at the yard, now yellowed and sparse since my Grandma's passing - I wondered how long I would be able to share this piece of heaven with my children. There was already talk of selling. The lump rose in my throat again, like a monster waiting inside to climb it's ways out my eyes in liquid form. Wasn't this land ours? Don't you become one with dirt when you spend so much time with it? It had been tilled and taken care of by my mom and her family for a generation, and her grandparents before her.... back until the first settlers, the Mormon pioneers. My mom picked part of the ranch to build her home on when she was married. It was lovingly deemed "The Picnic Spot", because it is where they always rode their horses for a picnic. It had a stream, and large maple trees scattered down through a gully in the canyon. The picnic spot was my home, my childhood haven.
I was jerked back into reality when one of my children called my name, a sound I hear countless times a day, and easily ignore. "Mama, are we going to Ally's house still?" so I began ushering in the littles, deciding it was time to go. My head was full of memories, and my stomach was full of foreboding. We pulled out of Grandmas, through the enormous pines that my mom used to drag a hose around a water as a child, and off the hill to the the freeway. A moment I wished I could take back ever.
I often ask myself why I didn't listen. Knowing now, that those feelings were a clear physical warning of danger; a feeling I will try to never set aside again.
***********************
This story was say too long for one post. My times up today :)
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