An Awful Day . . . with a Happy Ending

Monday morning. Not long after 9:00 am, I hit the "send" button on my e-mail to my dear friend Lara. 

As I clicked my laptop closed the phone rang, and I knew something was wrong.  I answered with a weight in my stomach and heard my dad's voice.  Not surprisingly, he asked how I was and then I asked what was wrong.  He replied that my mother was in an ambulance en route to the hospital in Provo. 

A stroke.

I would beat them to the hospital, if I could pull myself together that is.  She had a 1 1/2 hour drive, and I still had to shower, find someone to watch Ivy, and make the 20 minute drive to Provo.  Flustered and teary, I struggled to concentrate on the simple tasks at hand.

Richard and I arrived at the ER just a few minutes after she did.

She couldn't say my name.  She couldn't say anybody's name.  She couldn't talk.

The next few hours would see her have a complicated procedure, and the next few days would see her have many tests.  She received a priesthood blessing from her husband and mine.
Austin left work and came immediately to the ER and waited with us for answers.

My sisters all flew to Utah and we sat by her side in the intensive care and guessed best we could at her pantomimes.  We watched her hold a spoon and wrestle with swallowing down the bit of applesauce it held.  We watched our father watch her, with total faith.  Although his eyes teared up often, his voice was always full of complete confidence and love. 

The first night, after I had picked up Carla and Sandy at the airport, we drove back to Provo and walked into mom's room.  She was asleep, but besider her bed sat Austin, his head bowed and her hand in both of his.  One of the sweetest moments I have stored in my memory . . . .
My mother and my son.

The happy ending?  My mother was alive.  And although I grieved her loss of speech (but she is coming along so well!) it was given to me to know that her true language of expression was preserved.  My mother quilts and knits and crochets and cross stitches.  Her hands are her tongue in so many ways, and they are not bound at her side.  They are still free.

While I rushed to get ready that awful morning, unbeknownst to me, Ivy worked busily at the table.  As we were leaving she gave me this painting and asked me to give it to grandma.  I was able to take it into the procedure room and show my mom at the last minute.  The procedure had a high risk and we weren't sure if she'd be wheeled back out of it . . . to us.

Sisters fretting over our mother

The waiting, and no doubt the wondering

My mother and my son

Carla and Mom

After a few days mom could sit up and visit for a short time.  The kids brought a photo album and were helping her recognize family members and try to say their names.

A happy moment for me.  I love my children's grandmother.

A chicken sandwich and green salad.

My mom left the hospital the Friday following her stroke, and then stayed at a rehabilitation center for a month.  She and my dad are home in Ephraim now and she is working diligently on getting her speech back.  She has been beset with other health problems, but she is an example of valiant attitude.

The Big Day is Here

 It's odd that one can dread the same day that another is anticipating. But it happened.

Ivy was thrilled to be starting school, and I was sad.  Very sad.

I took more than fifty pictures that morning, and it's the first time ever that I took a picture of ME with my new kindergartener. 

Why didn't I start that tradition earlier?

Then I'd have more pictures to cry over.

Here's a look at the darling new school girl . . .

With her backpack - that will last only one day.  It wasn't big enough so we bought a new one right after school.

That smile is because I'm happy for my baby, not for me!

So excited she can hardly stand it.

Precious!

With her buddy Matt - also heading off to kindergarten.

Thrilled to be on her way.

Waiting for the teacher.  She didn't want to go and play with the other kids on the playset.  It made me feel a little better that she wanted to stay right beside me.

Realizing that it's almost time to go in.  This is for real.

Mrs. Williams calls the class in.

Sitting in her spot.  Her teacher had to shoo quite a few mothers away.  But none were crying as hard as this one!

I was there early to pick her up - and this is what I found.  She was happily assimilating!

I drove to pick her up - thinking she'd be tired.  But she INSISTED on walking home, because that's what the big kids did.

Arriving on my door step.  I was so glad.

Thanksgiving Point

Kerry and I decided to take our going-to-be-kindergarteners-tomorrow children to Thanksgiving Point for a day of farm fun.

And to take my mind off what is happening tomorrow. 

It didn't work.

But we had fun none the less.



The Fall Wind

I'm not going to try to explain it here.  I know it would take too many words (I've already written an 800 word essay about it) and it would induce tears . . .  all over again.

Suffice it to say that tomorrow I will no longer be the mother of a preschooler.  Ever. Again.

After more than twenty years of having little ones home with me, the season is ending. 

Fall has come in so many ways.

I spent today with Ivy. 
Clutching onto every moment, every giggle, every smile, every squeeze.

And then another blow to mommy.  My baby has a wiggly tooth.

School's In!

 Our sweet little Maia is heading to 5th Grade!

Coop's excited for 3rd Grade.

The team.  They actually are starting a week before Ivy starts Kindergarten.

But she's up early and wishing she were going today too!

This kid LOVES school.

The neighborhood crew.  We always walk together the first day.  But we missed the Cushings this year.  They're being homeschooled at the The Cushing Academy of London for a few months.

Daddy always walks with us the first day.  Doesn't Maia's backpack look nice with camo?

Ethan is Coop's buddy and comes to pick him up every day for school.

These sisters are also BEST FRIENDS.

Every year I commit to taking the older kids' "first day" pictures too, but when the day arrives we're so busy and they leave the house so early that I forget.  But suffice it to say, McKenna and Tessa looked really cute too!



Seven Peaks

As an attempt to make sure our summer wasn't completely boring

(since mom was sick on the couch with mono for so long)

we took the kids - for the first time - to Seven Peaks. 

Mom mostly laid on the lounge chair and the kids frolicked in the sun and waves.

McKenna didn't make it with us, but Tessa, Maia, Cooper and Ivy all had fun in the sun.

Swimming Buddies

Dare-devil Maia, at high speed.

Taking a break from the activities.

At a rare moment of rest.



The ER - Again

Coop has a knack for being a boy . . . for getting hurt.

Richard had taken the girls for ice-cream, I was doing laundry, and Cooper had opted to have daddy bring home ice-cream for him, so he could keep playing outside with his friends.

I heard the screaming from across the street and by the time I got to the front door, he was there (with Hunter, Jaxson, and Carter M) with blood seeping through his hand that was pressed against his eye.

I was afriad to look (as usual) but demanded to know what had happened so I could be prepared for what was below the bloody hand.  Another BB?  A knife to the eye?  Would I see an empty eye socket?

Luckily, he had only collided with a metal stair rail in the Murdock's garage - and simply split the skin just below the brow.  We pressed a cloth to it and I scrambled to get my shoes on while his friends got him buckled in the car.  (I found out later they said a prayer for him)

As I was pulling out of the driveway, Richard pulled in, so FOR ONCE I didn't have to do the ER all on my own.

Cooper was a trooper.  He was a bit nervous when the doctor was describing the injection he would get, so I whispered a prayer in his ear and he calmed down.  In fact the whole time that the needle was IN his eye, he let out only one small moan.  I, on the other hand, had to put my head down.  He later told me that he had a testimony that prayers are answered.  Sweet, sweet boy.

 

Being so brave and calm through the whole ordeal.

The finished product - 7 stitches to the brow.

Getting them removed a week later

As good as new.

Fort Fun

Since daddy took the girls camping, Coop and I camped inside.

The fort - and several variations of it - surived in our living room for a week or so.

Obviously, I was recovering from mono.