Highly Recommended

 There seems to be a trend of over sharing lately. I'm afraid I'm high up and that guilty scale. Sometimes I share way too much! Sometimes I spend days feeling guilty, and battling myself over things I've shared. Sometimes it has backfired on me. But truthfully it's who I am. I've tried to change. I've tried to keep things to myself, but it just becomes too much. Maybe my burdens are best left to be borne by me alone. Perhaps I have put unnecessary weight on others shoulders. But truthfully I just cannot function unless I am an open and honest person in the most complete and best way I can be.

As of late I have been returning to the work scene. This time I am trying to change my mind set. Instead of just working to get us back on our feet I have been perusing long term employment, with stable companies that I will enjoy working for and that offer room for advancement. I have attained employment as a housekeeper at a local resort, called Sundance, and I kind of love it! I also have plans to return to school in January. Yay for unbelievable stress and hardship! Oh well, that's my life, and it's for the greater good.

But anyway back to the working thing. I found returning to work to be much harder than expected. It was just so hard to be out in reality again. I found little reminders, in the oddest places, that sometimes just made me want to kneel down and cry. I couldn't believe how hard it was just to be in a work place. I consider myself a hard worker. I may not have always fully applied myself. But I've worked hard to try and break those habits, and I've worked hard to be as professional as possible. I want to be a good employee who shows talent and the willingness to succeed. I soon realized it wasn't working that was hard. It was existing in the work place that was hard.

I've been pretty much a stay at home mom for 3 years now. I haven't really been challenged to exist outside my home. And with recent events in my life I found it even harder to exist in the outside world. I was used to being "Working Girl Tricia, Pre Marriage". I was used to being "Working Girl Tricia, Post Marriage, Pre Babies, Post Babies, Etc.". But I wasn't used to having to be the Tricia I am now, existing in the work field. It made it hard. I didn't know how to be this person. I didn't know what face to show. I felt like I just couldn't be who I am because I was told I needed to keep things to myself. I was told that would be for the better. Well maybe those people have a point, but at the moment that point seemed to be piercing into my chest making it impossible to breath. 

It wasn't long until I began to get to know my co-workers. I began chatting with one girl, and we just both opened up and felt comfortable sharing things with each other. She shared her trials. I shared mine. It's strange how sometimes it's just so easy to be yourself around someone, and how you can just sense it instantly. I thought I'd go home feeling terrible about myself. I thought I'd regret how I acted, or what I said. But I didn't. In fact I felt better. I felt like I was finally free to be Tricia at work. Does that mean I'll share everything with everyone? No. But it just came as such a relief to talk with someone. To not have to keep everything all balled up inside. And it just sort of released me from a prison I had made for myself when it came to returning to work.

Truth be told I'm scared of what lies ahead. I'm scared I won't be able to do this. That I won't be able to attain a career. That I'll fail like I have so many times when it comes to jobs, careers and school. I'm afraid I don't have what it takes. That adds to the pressures already felt in my life. And it makes it even harder to achieve what I need to achieve. I'm afraid people won't take me seriously. And I can really see no reason why they should. But I want to do this. I want to say that I did it. I want to know that my family can afford to pay the bills, and enjoy themselves again. And in order to do that I'm going to have to find a balance between being professional and being myself.

So over sharing may not come highly recommended by some. It may not be highly recommended for some. But for me I highly recommend it. Somehow it just gives me strength.

6 Week Check-up

Today I went in for my six week check up-- technically it was seven weeks. I'm so ready to say goodbye to the doctors office. Vulnerability mixed with bad memories have made the doctors a huge trigger for me. I've always kind of gotten down from doctors visits while pregnant. I guess it's a mix of:

•  people stating my pregnancies must be easy because I don't throw up
•  Having so many contractions, and being pregnant at the most stressful times in my life, and not having proof show up on any test, screen or listening device, 
• People thinking I'm crazy or a wimp because it doesn't show up on any test, screen or listening device.
• And feeling like I know what is going on with my own body and being proven wrong, every time. 

Yes, going to the doctors always feels extremely frustrating, but it's been even worse this time around. I'm ready to turn my back and hopefully not have to see the doc for a while now.

My six week check up didn't do much to totally turn me round about doctors visits. I did enjoy a fun chat with my doctor about his family-- I really like my doctor-- but not being able to muster up the strength to say more than, "I feel OK," led to a chat about anti depressants. It just made me feel like a total and complete failure all around. I know I shouldn't feel that way, but I do. 

I'm sorry my posts are all so depressing lately. I find myself extremely frustrated. I'm frustrated with my weight. I'm frustrated with our van. I'm frustrated with my baby and his randomness. I'm frustrated with my kids, and the fact that we just can't do anything without it being miserable. And I'm frustrated with my situation.

Weight-

I know I'm only six weeks postpartum, but my body has taken on a new and totally different shape. OK, it's probably only totally different to me, but my hips are obviously wider then before, and that flabby skin from the twins is still hanging around. Then that little pregnancy pooch still shows it's ugly face, and I get the feeling that it's just going to stick around longer and longer with each kid. My weight gain with this baby has been depressing. I felt like I was tiny, but the scales said otherwise. I had finally gotten down to my ultimate pre-pregnancy weight after my last baby, and now I'm back to where I was after I had the twins. Ugh! It just depresses me. I was feeling so skinny until I stepped on that scale at the doctor's office.

Van-

My husband and I have been van shopping before, and we have come to the conclusion that a Chevy or Pontiac van is in our best interest.

I own a Buick Century see, and one day I had it parked next to my brothers huge Tahoe. We were at an apartment building, with three stories so we hiked to the top and gazed down. We were shocked! My Buick was as long as my brother's Tahoe. The engine compartment was the same and everything.
This meant if you kicked out the back of my Buick, built a roof over the trunk and installed the optional third row seat our Buick would have just about as much cargo room as the Tahoe. It really changed how we started looking at vehicles from then on.

A lot of vans are in the same fashion as the Tahoe, they are just as big as the Buick. The only vans that offer a third seat and still have reasonable cargo room are the Chevy's and the Pontiacs-- and probably the Buicks, we just haven't looked yet. I think the Honda Odyssey's are a little bigger too.

Anyway. . . when we heard about baby 4 we felt we should just get any van we could. This was just in hopes of being able to drive somewhere safely and legally. Well the more I asked around the more certain I became that my good old Buick would probably suit us fine for a while-- it has 3 seats in the front and 3 in the back. I kind of got off the van bandwagon, but my husband still wanted one, and he was probably right. Plus, we figured any van at all would probably be more convenient then the Buick. That was based on the consumer reports of our neighbors and friends.

Well we purchased a cheap van from an auction site. It has manual locks and windows. The radio doesn't work. The interior lights don't work. And it doesn't have two sliding doors. Our thoughts were to buy it because of our thoughts on any van being more convenient and such. Well the trade offs weren't great.

Truth is the Buick, with it's power windows and locks, doors on both sides, some working interior lights, and smoother ride, feels just about as convenient as the van. It's still good to have the two cars, but I feel like a silly goose stating that the van just isn't working for us. I mean really? How can it not be more convenient?

I guess just any van won't do. We need to stick with our original conclusions and get a Chevy or a Pontiac-- though I'm totally voting for the Buick!

Baby-

I love my babies! I love their little toes. I love when they suck on their hands. I love the cooing sounds they make when eating. I love when they smile,  and I love pretending it's not just gas. And I love that my babies are sweet and good.

They are so sweet and good, in fact, that if I ever dare mention otherwise I tend to get kicked in the teeth. "Well I think he's a sweetheart"

Grrr! It drives me crazy. All my newborns, even my colicky one, fell into obvious sleeping patterns. Patterns I could see. Patterns that made life a little predictable. Patterns that led to schedules that made life wonderful. The twins just did it on their own. My colicky one did it when I finally just let him cry. And this one. . .well that's a different story.

My last child was colicky, and had to have attention and be held all the time. Me thinking I had no skills for such a child tried to do things differently then I normally would. I then quit trying to be something else and just did what I normally do-- let him cry it out, fed him at certain times and certain amounts and basically put my motherly foot down. Funny thing is it worked. So I should just do that with my next child right?

Well, I lacked the patience to do so. He didn't really cry it out. He just cried a little and stopped. Then cried a little and stopped. It drove me crazy so I would just hold him. I'd hold him for an hour until I thought he had fallen asleep enough to be put down. He'd then wake up, and I'd have to sit again. Pretty soon I had sat clear through to another feeding, and would now have to sit again and feed him. Tell me how someone does all this while having to care for 3 other kids?

I tried coming up with weird feeding schedules: feed him, burp him, feed him, burp him, change him, wrap him, feed him, burp him and hopefully he'll go to sleep. I had other variations too. With my others we just did feed, burp, change, wrap and then sleep. Simple right? Why didn't I do it with this baby? Because I lacked the patience.

Finally after all this I had enough. I decided he would just have to cry. And I would just have to muster up the patience to let him. I feed him his bottle, burp him, change him, play with him while he's awake and when he gets fussy I just let him cry. It always seems to come down to this, and this always seems to be what works for us. Why I don't just do it I don't know. I guess there's no harm in what path I take as long as we get somewhere good though.

Kids-

It's hard to have 4 kids so close. We try to go anywhere fun and I end up being the one that is misbehaving. Its so hard to accept that we can't go out and enjoy things anymore because I just love to go out and go places. And I want us to go as a family. It just ends up in misery though. And anyone I bring along to help gets stressed by it all too. I get to my wits end, and I feel like I just add to all the misery. Things were starting to get better before we had the baby. It's just so hard to have to care for a newborn in the middle of all this.

Life-

Life over all is hard. I'm trying to get it together and choose a career path. I've made so many mistakes with school and applying myself. I just want stability and security. I want to obtain a career to help support our family. One that, if I had to, I could support the family with on my own. Everything just seems to be a jumbled mess when it comes to choosing and trying though. I tried getting a job in hopes of sticking out the grunt work to get to a better place. That failed miserably. Now I'm in search of other paths, but honestly I just feel so down right now. Can I really not even stick out the grunt work for the greater good of my family? Can I really not even do it for a week? What if I'm really not as successful of an individual as I've told myself I am over the years? I just want to get us to a better place. How come that doesn't motivate me to get my butt in gear?

All this stuff has become all the more frustrating when I try to talk about it with others. I mean if I say the van isn't convenient, then why can't that just be true? After all I'm the one driving the van, do I not have the intelligence to say whether it works for us or not? Why do I have to be treated like an ungrateful monster.

If I say my well behaved newborn drives me crazy, with his random gassy/fussiness, can't that be accepted as a good and honest evaluation?  I'm the one spending 24/7 with this child. Shouldn't that put me high up on the list of noteworthy opinions? Saying, "That's just how newborns are," leaves me feeling like people must question my intelligence and ability to do hard things. I've had 4 newborns I think I can determine whether or not it's different and hard. And even if it's just hard for me, it's still hard. Lets not forget that newborns are simply hard.

I don't know if any of that makes sense. I hit major writers block with those last two paragraphs. I wish I could have described it better. I usually don't write posts until I have come through the mucky ugliness and reached the other side with a clear perspective. This usually means I have found clearer ways of describing how I feel. I obviously should have waited to write this post.  Bottom line, it just makes things all the more frustrating when I don't receive validation. When I don't receive validation I feel trapped. When I feel trapped I get angry. When I get angry I get ugly. Seriously, it could be compared to The Hulk.

I think people try to help me, and when they try to help they are really trying to fix. And when this turns into me still being frustrated or overwhelmed they feel like their efforts are have failed and are unappreciated. I can't blame them for being upset. They put a lot of effort into helping me out. And when they don't see the results they were hoping for I'm sure it's a huge let down. Just like me and the van. It's frustrating on my end. It's frustrating on other ends. It's just frustrating all around.

My life is just hard. There's not much to be done to fix it. Things that can be done to help are things I need to do myself. And they are things that will make life all the more harder for a while. Every little bit helps in it's way, but what helps the most is just having someone there to validate and talk to.

Sorry. Another long depressing post. I need to try and write more happy and inspiring things here. Some of that does exist in motherhood. Though I swear it gets harder to see with each child. Here's to hoping things will start looking up.

Throw Me an Anchor!

As you are aware there has been a struggle with me and having all boys. I wouldn't trade my boys for the world, but it's hard to have four kids and still feel that there is still a gap in my life.

I recently read a book, which I highly recommend, called "Secret Daughter". It was an emotional endeavor to read, but in all the best-- and hard-- ways. The book features perspectives from many different characters, and I found my heart aching for each one of them in each circumstance. I could go on forever about how this book both validated my feelings and taught me how to appreciate, and hold dear to, everything in my life, but I'll just mention one part for now. It was a chapter from the perspective of the Indian Mother-in-Law. She had all boys, and she reminisced about how she had always wanted a daughter. Someone to pass her jewelery on to. Someone to teach about the wonders of being a woman. She had hoped that one day she would have daughter-in-laws to share this with, but the daughter-in-laws turned to their mothers and left her ". . .alone in a house full of men." I can't even describe how much that last sentence impacted me. How simple it is, but how it perfectly described the reason for my longing. This book, and other things of late, have brought about the certain events that led to this blog post.

The weeks have flown by with this child, and though I love him deep down in my core there was something unsatisfying and hard about realizing this was my reality. Four boys and no girls. Was this really it? Of course, I could have more kids physically, but mentally I'm worn out. I just don't think I can do this anymore. But it's hard to accept this as my final answer. I kept waiting for it to feel wonderful. To feel amazing. To feel like they say you will in all those promises you hear of when you first start having kids. Why couldn't it be like when I had the twins? When they brought them to me and I thought, "You're perfect. I don't ever need a girl as long as I can have more of you." I mean really? That was me, thinking that. Who knew each child wouldn't bring the same satisfaction? I certainly didn't.

I wanted to ask others if it was the same for them, but I hate doing that sometimes. People just say, "You must have postpartum depression." I don't know why but I hate that term. I feel like people are labeling me with a problem. A problem that needs to be fixed. I don't want to be fixed. Saying I'm broken is saying it's not normal. That my feelings don't deserve validation. Just because they may be exemplified, and harder to deal with in my current state, doesn't make them less real. And they still need to be addressed.

It takes a certain amount of strength to get through each day. It takes a certain amount of patience as well. Everyday things come up. There are reminders everywhere. Sometimes in the oddest places. I went to put on a long sleeved shirt, and realized I didn't want to wear my winter clothes anymore. They seemed to hold so much pain and sadness in them. Working out in the yard is another hardship. I hate yard work sometimes. And not just in the normal way. Every time I go out there I think I can handle it, but there is always a moment when I just want to fall on my knees and cry. Hard work usually brings about my frustrated and hurt feelings, but yard work harbors it's own bitter memories that the other chores don't. Normally dealing with these things is do-able. But the last week or so it has become crippling.

Things slowly became more crippling. I found the heartache from my marriage to be overwhelming. It usually was hard, but I could stay focused on the real goal. The real reason to stay, and not the facade, or fantasy, that leaving seemed to promise at times. But now that goal was growing dim. I felt myself slipping. I couldn't hang in there anymore. I didn't know if I really could forgive my husband. After all this time maybe I just didn't have the strength. Than it hit me like a flood. I laid in bed crying, telling my husband I just didn't want to do it anymore. It was selfish I knew, but the feeling were overwhelming. The strength to persevere and stay were dwindling. I wanted another chance. I wanted the freedom to be adored by another man. I wanted my youth. The freedom to try out for plays. To flirt with boys. To be a woman again. Being the only girl in this house of men was beginning to get to me. For some reason it was making dealing with the marital problems harder. Maybe if I had had a girl she could give me strength to get through it. Maybe she'd help me remember what it is to be feminine and strong. But maybe it was good that she wasn't here because it wouldn't be right for me to put that pressure on her.

Things gradually got harder. I had done so well with coping with my marriage, and everything, since the birth. But the feelings about my baby didn't seem to disappear. Shouldn't I feel amazed, or be in awe at what a miracle he is? Why doesn't this feel wonderful? It doesn't feel awful, but it doesn't feel like it should. Maybe I do have postpartum. Maybe I've always been depressed. Maybe I do really need to be fixed.
 I started to realize I had lost my anchor. I had lost who I was. I had become an "us" and lost the "me". When I got married I had devoted myself to my family and given everything to them in the name of unselfishness. I wish I had developed myself more as a person before I got married, or at least before I had kids. I kept putting it on hold. Hoping a man would give me my final definition. Tell me I was wonderful. That he was as devoted to me as a Bryan Adams song. Surely his image of me would be what completed my definition.

But now that image has crumbled. We work on building it back up, and even though it is needed, I need to invest more in myself this time. I need to give myself security in case those whom I rely on to complete me aren't always reliable. The reality is out there. I can't control what my children do. I can't control what my husband does. I can only control what I do, and in order to have stability I need to focus on me as a person, not just as an "us". I need an anchor to keep me grounded, and I'm the only sure investment I have.

But the question was: where had that person gone? How had I lost her? I was so passionate before I got married. How did that fizzle out? The answer came the night I finally packed away all the things I had saved to decorate my girls room. I had put the stuff away, but in the hopes that it wouldn't be long until I could pull it out again. But our extra room will now be dedicated to lodging boys, and so I gathered more boxes and bags and went down to the storage room to pack it away for good-- at least for a while. As I opened the boxes a harsh realization came to me. The dolls and girly trinkets that were placed in here because they just didn't fit with the new decorating that was to incorporate us as a couple, or because my husband thought of them as creepy, held far more meaning than I realized. I had packed myself away in that spare room, and now in these boxes. The things that decorated my room when I lived at home. The blanket from my grandma that still served as a comfort to me. The things I had inherited and collected that were too girly to be in the house of a man and a woman had been placed here. My femininity had been placed in these boxes with these dolls and decorations. Discovering this helped me to move on. It helped me to finally enjoy and appreciate my baby in a way that feels more right-- though feelings of being trapped still come about when he cries. Oh, how these objects served to remind me of who I was. I didn't need to long for the days of flirtation. The days of dressing up to the nines and playing with my make-up to see if I was indeed as attractive as I felt. I didn't need that to rediscover my womanhood. I just needed these memories from my past. These were my anchor. And they were yet another explanation for my longing for a little girl.

I had given too much of myself away. And sometimes to the wrong people. But people can't take something from you unless you let them. I had let them, but now how could I get it back? I just need to keep on holding on. The second I let clothes decide whether or not they wear me, or let let the yard work become too emotionally crippling I have lost control. I have given it to the circumstances, and people, that have sought to take it from me. So even though it's hard I know I need to keep at it. I know I can't give in. I slowly need to regain a sense of who I was before, and how it contributes to who I am now. The great thing about it is these battles don't have to be fought alone. I have a husband willing to go through anything with me in order for us to workout. I have children to give me hope. And I have the sweet charity of people who will every so often lift my burden by saying, "I can help you fight this battle." Just as my mother did in her offer to give me some of her clothes so I didn't have to deal with the pain of wearing mine.


I know God has blessed me through my friends and family. Through every acquaintance that has entered my life. It's amazing to look at what I've gone through and know that without it I may have never realized these things. But that these things were problems before problems became bigger problems. Without the trials of this past year I may have never discovered the peace and validation I needed to move on from things of many past years.  My trials have helped me become more aware of who I am and who I need to be. Maybe I can finally admit that I am thankful for them in someway. 

Supermom Speaks on Life With 4

On September 10, 2012 we welcomed our 4th boy into the family. Here is a link for the whole birth story if anyone is interested.

Life with the new little one has been interesting. He's been a pretty good baby. I feel like I can't complain. He really is fairly easy, but about once a day, or once every 2 days, he gets fussy. It gets surprisingly old. He seriously does great and then all of sudden he just will not fall asleep, and I have to sit and rock him for an hour or an hour and a half, and if I try to leave he usually ends up crying again. I really don't understand it, he eats a full bottle. I burp him and change his diaper, like always, and then I wrap him up, grab a binkie and try to lay him in his bed. He'll cry, so I'll stick the binkie back in. He'll cry some more so I'll give him gas drops. He'll cry some more, so I just let him cry. He cries and cries and cries clear till the next feeding. I've tried giving him more to eat as well, but that just leaves me feeding, burping and changing poopy diapers all day-- or all night. At night he seems to do OK if he sleeps with us, but during the day it gets hard because I have 3 other children to attend to and trying to block out the crying baby leaves me very irritable and over stimulated. This means my other kids get snapped at if they do or say anything that snaps me out of my "trying to concentrate on not loosing my mind from the crying baby" routine. It sounds silly that it drives me so crazy because he really doesn't seem that fussy, but it can get under my skin fast.

Things were pretty manageable when the other 3 were staying with my mom. People would ask how it was raising 4 boys, and I'd say I didn't really know because I've just really had the baby and that's it. My mom kept them for two weeks, and it was wonderful, but I was torn because I missed my boys. I'd go to wipe up their chairs or clean up their room and come to the horrific realization that my wish had come true: My house had actually stayed clean. There hadn't been little grubby fingers eating lunch or dumping out toys to make things a chaotic mess around here. It seemed like a dream come true, but it made me kind of sad. Our house felt really empty and lonely because of it. And I realized what I had always known, I like the challenge of raising my kids and without them I'd probably die from complete boredom.

Anyway. . .we've had all 4 boys living under the same roof for a week now, and I'm surprised there is still hair on my head. It isn't how hard it is that's depressing. It's that I can't enjoy my kids when they are here, but I'm too lonely when they are gone.

This leads me to the title of the post. I've heard it uttered many a times, "You're supermom" or "You're such a good mom" or other variations. I'm not angry with, hurt by or upset with anyone when they say this, but it does jab at a little spot in my heart. One reason is because of the matter of my marriage and the issues that came out last December that almost ended everything. I can't really describe it here without divulging too much, but it stings a little. And the other is, I'm really not a supermom, and I just really don't deserve the title.

My mom told me that she would be fine taking one child at a time, but it was too hard to take all three. It was too hard because all she does is yell at them when they all three come over. She apologized and felt bad for saying that. She said she'd never want to to tell a mom that's how she felt, but that it was true. The truth is that it actually made me feel better because that's all I do. I seriously feel like I just yell all the time. The only thing that seems to change is the volume of my voice and the object I want to kick or throw. I just wanted some time to figure out how to enjoy my three. To figure out how to control my temper better, so that I wouldn't feel like all I do is yell. So that maybe when someone called me a good mom I could just graciously accept the compliment instead of wanting to cry in a corner. Now we have a 4th one, and I'm just tired. I'm too tired to try and look forward to things maybe getting better. I'm too tired and worn out to handle a baby right now. And I'm tired of myself, and all my depressed and unhappy thoughts. I'm tired of that part of my brain that jumps straight too, "I don't want this baby. I don't want to raise my kids. I just can't do this anymore. I just want to run away." I don't want to feel that way about a baby. Feeling that way brings on immense guilt, and I know that I really do love my children and wouldn't trade them for the world. Part of me feels a little childish when my emotions betray me like that.

Part of what scares me so much about these feelings is what happened with my last baby. It was just so hard, and I feel so bad. I look at pictures of his first year, and I feel like I cheated him because of how hard of a time we all had. Granted, that bitter relationship has turned into something really sweet. I just love him and miss him so much when he's gone, and he really is a huge momma's boy which boosts my confidence a little. And the issues that I had with him were finally revealed to me through this pregnancy. This baby was born exactly 2 years from my last baby and being pregnant at the exact same time brought up emotions I didn't really know existed. I noticed feelings of loneliness associated with my marriage and what had happened. Sometimes those emotions would be about memories from my last pregnancy. I couldn't figure out why. What had happened in my marriage happened the summer after I had my third baby. Then I realized that the pregnancy must have been when my husband and I started to drift apart. This finally explained why bonding with the baby was so hard. It explained why everything felt so off. It wasn't all postpartum. It wasn't because I had a c-section or didn't breast feed. It was just our lives at that time and the situations we didn't realize existed. It was a relief in someways to find this out. But it also left me terrified of having this next baby. I felt like everything would happen all over again. Like the baby would come and my life would become another marathon and I'd never catch up. Having those emotions come up now just leaves me worried that we haven't progressed or moved on enough to make our lives work.

 

Some people try to sum up my life experiences into lessons that needed to be learned. They try to give a reason for everything. "Maybe this is why you have all boys", "Maybe this is why that happened", "Maybe this is the reason you're having a baby". It used to be something I could do. It was something I desperately searched for, but lately it hurts too much. I just want to scream to the heavens, "I don't know what lesson I need to learn, and I just give up trying to figure it out!" I guess everything is too close and too real, and I'm just to vulnerable right now. I acknowledge that I'm learning and growing, but to say everything I've gone through was simply to learn a lesson just hurts too much.

Those thoughts made me feel a little bit cynical until I heard a talk given at a Church Meeting, that was filmed and put on TV. The man was talking about a guy who had a dilemma about taking a job out of state or accepting a job closer to home. The General Authority who he was talking to said, "It mattereth not." It made me think, "How many times have I tried to give epic meaning to something in my life when really 'it mattereth not'."

 I also had a discussion with friends about how God isn't sitting up in Heaven ripping out his hair, having panic attacks and going insane because his children won't behave. Though I'm sure it gives him great sorrow, what we do doesn't change who God is. This made me think of all the times I've gotten angry or upset because I'd think of God up there sending me trial after trial trying to get some sort of message through. But really maybe he's just up there saying, "You made a choice and I knew what that choice would lead to, but I couldn't keep you from making it because I gave you your agency. And though it's hard to have to watch you suffer because of it, I know that is how it has to be in order for you to really learn what you need to learn."

This post is getting long, so I had better wrap it up. For the most part things are better, but life is still hard. My husband is gone all the time working overtime, so we can pay the bills. My parents have offered all the help they can, but truthfully I think all of us are at our max capacity. It's hard to figure out what can relieve the stress when relieving the stress just brings about other stresses. For the most part I try to just take it one day at a time. I just get through the day and try not to get anxious about tomorrow. Things may get easier when the baby gets older. Things may get better now that we have a van. Things might start to look up when my husband switches to working at home. But everything feels like it will just bring on a new kind of stress, so I just go to bed hoping that when I wake up maybe I'll have a better understanding or a clearer view.

I feel like a fickle friend, loving my kids and wanting to spend more time with them, but also tired of having to solve problems and looking way too forward to nap time. Sometimes I get so angry with God for all the trials in my life, and then the next second I'm begging for forgiveness and trying to be thankful for what I have. When these moments come up I think of what my Dad said to me in the hospital, "If you need to be angry with someone God can take it." I hope that's true because it certainly brought me a lot of peace when he said it.

There's No Need to Make Me Feel Guilty. . .

. . .I do a good enough job of that myself.

Life has been a little crazy around here lately. Full of uncertainties, instabilities, stress, stress, stress and, the need to finally announce our surprise of a pregnancy to all.

Life hasn't been easy. But, as life goes, there is always someone who is worse off right? Don't get me wrong. It's both humbling, and touching, to hear on the news, or read a story, about someone who overcame an impossible situation with strength, faith and traits that are admirable. Knowing that people have survived the most heart wrenching of situations is always a good reminder to me. It reminds me to be thankful for the challenges that are mine. It reminds me that it's possible for someone to make it through a hard, and desperate, situation and not be known for the failures that brought them there, but for the character shown in overcoming their hardships. But sometimes I wonder when my story will be told with that hint of, "Just be grateful you don't have to deal with what she's going through".

I don't want to be babied. I don't want people to feel sorry for me. I just don't want people to feel they have to lay on the guilt or teach me a lesson. I personally think its a bad tactic. Stories of the less fortunate should serve as humbling reminders. They should be personal revelations, and each of us should be allowed to interpret them in our own way. When they are used to cake on the guilt I find myself turned off. I get angry and upset. Sure, I understand their point. I know I could have things a lot worse. I try to remind myself of that everyday. But my experiences are my own. I have a right to my feelings, and don't appreciate being told they are wrong. Anyone could find themselves in my situation and discover they feel the exact same way.

I read in a book that God knows us, and knows how we learn. So when he has a lesson he wants us to learn he will teach it to us in a way that will be well received. That is such a comforting thought to me. God will get his message through, and he knows I'll listen if it's presented to me in the right way.

This pregnancy has brought some interesting feelings about. To say it's been a struggle is an understatement. I can't believe the baby lived past the first 12 weeks. Life was so awful then. I felt so torn between emotions. I didn't want to have this child alone, but my marriage lie in uncertainty. I wanted my husband to be with me, but having a child with a man I couldn't trust was heart wrenching. I begged to understand why I was having this baby. Why now? We weren't a family. We needed to learn how to be a husband and wife again. How could we have a child together in the situation we were in? At times I didn't know if the baby had survived. At times I thought it would be better if it didn't. It seemed so unfair to bring another child into our world of uncertainty. The baby did live, and that did make me happy. But it still brought about so many more fears and stresses.

Amongst all of this the "Be Grateful-s" rang through my head, and sometimes out of people's mouths. Be grateful you can have kids. Be grateful that it's healthy. Be grateful that you didn't loose the pregnancy. Be grateful, be grateful, be grateful.

I try hard everyday to be grateful. When they couldn't find the heartbeat I knew there was no good way to give that kind of news to a mother. I had tried to prepare myself because I hadn't been that sick. I even assured the doctors that if they had to deliver that news it was OK. When they did the ultra-sound and showed me the heart beat I was so relieved. They gave me the pictures, and I was just so excited. I wanted to show them to everyone. That was my baby, and it was perfect and wonderful!

But sadly I'm a woman, and I can experience more than one emotion at a time. Along with excitement came the knowledge of the hardships this pregnancy would bring. This is just a really bad time to have a baby. We are poor beyond belief. Our future is still very uncertain at this time. And, even though my husband and I continue to work on our marriage, it is still in a kind of volatile state. I'm so excited for my baby, but I can't just be excited. There are so many things raining down on us right now that the reality of our situation has to be faced.

I've come to be OK with the imperfections of our situation. Though I don't understand how, I know things will be OK. I have realized that I can have this baby with my husband, even if the trust in our marriage is a little unstable right now. I am grateful that I can have children. I'm grateful that I have three beautiful little boys already. And I can't wait to hold this new little bundle of joy. I know I'll be tired. I don't know how I'll survive raising 4 kids under 4. But I'm sure I'll learn that I was capable all along. And I'll come out on the other side having learned something new about myself.

I hear stories all the time of people who have lost children, people who can't have children, people who lost everything in a fire, etc. and I thank God everyday for blessing me with so many wonderful things. I thank him for my beautiful kids, who are happy, healthy and strong. For allowing me to have a decent home to raise them in. That, against all odds, we have managed to still piece together something of a life thanks to friends, family and the church. I always feel so sorry that others must be asked to go through the trials they are given. It seems so unfair. Why them? Why am I allowed to enjoy so many wonderful things when they must be asked to endure so much?



I have a pretty good understanding of what I should be grateful for. I remind myself every night when I put my kids to bed. I feel the guilt every time my little boys bring me a flower after I have yelled at them. I feel it whenever I have spent the whole day trying to clean the house, and telling them to go away, and then realizing I didn't even take a few minutes to enjoy them that day. I'm a mom. I feel guilty and grateful every second of my life. But I also feel a lot of other things and those feelings deserve some validation too.

I love everyday I spend with my family. I love watching my three little boys. Though I didn't always think it felt right to have 3 boys and no girls, I really love it. I love that the twins get to have a little brother. And I love the things they are learning because they have a little brother. It just seems to fit so well into our little family. I have also finally figured out why I so desperately want a girl. And it wasn't the selfish, unappreciative, ungrateful version people tried to tell me it was. It was simply because it was something I had pictured my whole life. Something I had saved all my toys from childhood for. Something I felt was so real, I reserved a room in our house, from the very beginning, for my baby girl. Loosing something like that would be hard for anyone. It didn't mean I didn't want boys. It didn't mean I loved boys less. It just meant I had lost something that had felt incredibly real to me my whole life, and I had to come to terms with that part of it.

As far as this baby goes, we do know the gender. But I have just felt so many uncertainties about the baby, that I almost feel like I don't really know. I've told people what it is, but as time goes on it gets more and more awkward. So I've decided to hold off on announcing it online. The pregnancy has been so different. The way the baby sits and moves seems so strange sometimes. The other night I put my hand my tummy and I could feel it moving. Everything felt so real and defined. I have never felt a baby in my tummy in that much detail before. It's so hard to believe it's just inches from touching my hand. It's right there, responding and moving to my touch. It feels so much more real to me in that way than my other babies, and yet I know so much less about it. I can't decide on a name, colors or clothes. I don't see things in the store that just yell at me that they belong to this baby. It's just so different from my other pregnancies in that way. Anyway. . .tune in around September 16 if you want to find out what we had!

Raising Girls

I'm hoping to put together a scrapbook for a friend. She has three boys and os now having her first girl. So if anyone has some advice for raising girls please share. I wanted to include it in the book. Thanks!

Why God Made Little Boys

God made a world out of His dreams,
Of magic mountains, oceans and streams,
Prairies and plains and wooded land,
Then paused and thought, "I need someone
To stand
On top of the mountains, to conquer the seas,
Explore the plains and climb the trees,
Someone to start out small and grow,
Sturdy, strong like a tree and so,
He created boys, full of spirit and fun,
To explore and conquer, to romp and run,
With dirty faces, banged up chins,
With courageous hearts and boyish grins."
When he had completed the task He'd begun
He surely said, "That's a job well done."
                                                                       -Unknown

Easter

Having just celebrated Easter, I have been trying hard to take some time to contemplate the atonement, crucifixion and resurrection of Christ. It's not always easy to take a few minutes to stop and think when you have three little ones, but I still gave it a go.

I have been wanting to make a post. About what exactly? I don't really know. Counseling, though offering some helpful tools, has kind of led me to be more confused then ever.

People have said nothing but positive things about counseling. That it was affirmation that they weren't crazy, or they learned a lot about themselves. It seems to be just the opposite for me. I think I have an answer or have figured things out but the counselor disagrees or says nothing. I'll go in hopes of getting some validation, but it usually doesn't happen. A lot of times I feel crazier coming out of counseling then when I went in.

I guess I do still learn about myself. Even if the learning comes from a negative experience.

I've been so upset and confused these last few weeks that I asked my husband just to cancel our last two sessions.

Our last session left me so confused and angry I began to feel like I was regressing. I slunk into a negative depression. I became upset with my husband and I just lost the will to fight, or to open up and try anymore. My mom said something that just hurt me to the extreme. And I just didn't know where to turn to for answers.

Now, the counselor doesn't seem to understand me. My parents are sick of me. My husband won't fully open up to me, so I'm tired of opening up to him. And I just didn't want to become a huge bother to my friends.

I had been told that my happiness in this marriage could not be reliant on my husband changing, and the time frame he changes in. I know this. I know happiness, or unhappiness, cannot be reliant on others actions. We are responsible for our own happiness. We can't place that expectation on others. That's just not fair.

It made sense, but at the same time it was the most confusing thing in the world. Happiness for me is sharing myself with people. Giving everything I am to someone. It leaves me incredibly vulnerable, but I just don't know how else to live. How could I be happy if I couldn't trust giving myself fully to the man I love? How could I be expected to want to continue on in this marriage if some changes in our relationship didn't take place? True, he doesn't ask me to give of myself that way, and changes do take time. But am I really to believe that people do not need to be responsible for the hurtful things they have done simply because only we can control how we respond to their actions? Though there is truth to it, it also feels like a huge lie.

I then asked my husband one night, "Do you think this makes sense: You don't have to apologize for the feeling, but you should for the action?"

I think we are all entitled to feel certain ways: angry, sad, irritated, ignored, happy, etc. But maybe it is the lashing out, the acting on those emotions that we need to answer for. Sometimes we have feelings that sort of betray our true selves. But feeling them doesn't mean we loose ourselves. I think the true test comes from the judgement we exercise in deciding what to do with those feelings.

Other things became clearer as life went on. A visit to the temple helped. And talks, in church, on Easter Sunday helped too.

I listened to the story of Christ washing the apostles feet. The realization that he washed the feet of the man he knew would ultimately betray him really hit me. Could I wash the feet of those who have betrayed and hurt me? I know I do not have the perfect understanding of Christ, nor do I truly know people and the intents of their hearts. But even so could I fight through the anger and the hurt to have the forgiveness in my heart that Christ had?

The story of Christ suffering in Gethsemane really struck a chord. I realized that he suffered for the very sin of those who nailed him on the cross and crucified him. A certain humbling came over me. How incredible a feat was that?

I think Christ felt a sorrow as he suffered. I think he felt a sorrow when he asked God, "Forgive them. They know not what they do."

It was then that I realized sorrow could accompany forgiveness. Pain and anger rising up daily didn't have to mean my marriage was over. It didn't have to mean I had failed. Pain is a part of healing. Sorrow could be felt even if I have a perfect understanding and forgiveness in my heart. I can stay in this marriage even if I still feel the pain of what has happened. I have done all I can to sort out my emotions. Now, it will just take time to heal.

The atonement is the most incredible blessing in our lives. And the knowledge that he suffered for me too is a humbling comfort in times like this. There is always a lesson to be learned and a perspective to be seen. I'm so thankful for the blessing of the Easter lesson I received this year.

Dear Mom. . .

Our relationship has come along way. I don't know how it happened, but suddenly you are the person that understands. The person that's easy to talk to. Now I realize you always were. We have shared many similarities in our lives. I always thought you didn't understand me, but sometimes your the only one that does. I guess that's what happens when people are similar.

I'm writing you now because I hurt. I hurt all the time. I laugh, I smile, I go on with life, but the pain still lingers. I've been working on it. I have over come some of it. I've seen my way through it. But healing can be exhausting. Sometimes I just need a sounding board to help me through. This letter isn't addressed to you but it was just easier for me to write it this way.

How do you get through something like this? I just don't know. I learn a little each day. I feel a little hope each day. But then things happen. Strange things come up. Things remind me that I never thought would. Similar stories from co-workers, who don't know my story, make me want to crawl into a corner and cry. Feeling is part of it.

It's part of healing. But everyday is a roller coaster of ups and downs. I'm on top of the hill and there is no getting off. In fact, getting off would cause more pain because wounds that might have a chance to heal could stay opened forever.

I just want to know I'm cherished. I just want to know I'm loved. Am I worth loving? I work so hard everyday to try and be someone who is worth loving. I try to fix the flaws I know make it hard for people to be around me. Things I do that I know aren't right. It can be exhausting. And sometimes I just can't do it anymore. But when I slip, when I let go, how do I know it won't add to a pile of dirty clothes I don't know exists. That it won't fill his heart with anger and resentment that he'll just hold against me. That's the worst part. Not being able to trust in that forgiveness.

It's hard. It's hard to be praised. It's hard to have people say what I'm doing is amazing. I don't feel that way. I see how badly I act. I see the damaging things I do. I want so badly to say I'm not that person. I'm not the person that yells and screams at the top of her lungs. That insults in anger and rage. That can't stop the destructive words from leaving her mouth. I know what I can be. And it doesn't always feel amazing.

Do you remember that day? Do you remember how I called you and Dad? How I couldn't breath? How the words couldn't escape my mouth? I hate that day. I hate to think of it. Some people say I will look back on it as a blessing. I don't know if that's true. I don't know what I would do without that day but I hate the pain that comes from thinking about it. Sometimes I wish it didn't have to exist.

Our family has been through a lot. A lot of dramatic situations have entered our lives throughout the generations. We all carry wisdom that is priceless. Wisdom that sometimes we wish we didn't have. But it is wisdom that has given us character and strength. Look at us. We still smile. We still laugh. Some people would probably ask how. I don't think we know. But I'm glad that I've been blessed with that ability. I'm glad I am your daughter.

Things are a part of my life that I don't want to be. People are there that shouldn't be-- not physically, but in my mind. I can't believe this is my life. I can't believe this is my trial. I can't believe the me that came out of it. Who is that person? I never knew. Who knew I was capable of smiling through such heartache? If I can do that then I know I can get through this pain. But sometimes the pain is just too much to keep contained in my heart. Sometimes I need to write it down. I need to cry about it. I need to see it so I can just work though it.

I love my family. I love my husband. I love my kids. I don't know if I would choose this life twice, but I do know I don't regret it.

I love you mom. Thank you for listening to the hard conversations. For letting me complain about things you may wish you could just stay out of. I know it's hard to be a parent. And I know I haven't made it any easier. But hopefully we both know that from these hard situations we have chosen to become better, not worse.



Pictures by: Tilt Photography

My Potty Training Story

A new trend has begun in my house. Suddenly the twins are obsessed with what is covering their nether regions. There's the obsession with the Mickey Diapers. This started when I had to get them excited about their new diapers because we were out of "Marty" diapers-- they had zebras on them, Marty from Madagascar.

At times this would interfere with our plan to only have them wear disposables at night.

The obsession with the Mickey diaper soon transformed into an obsession of the Mickey underwear.
"Go get some underwear."

"It's not underwear, it's my Mickeys!"

Now the obsession has turned to, "I don't want diaper I want underwears!"

Can't say that I'm too disappointed in that. Except that it's only one of the twins that has taken on this obsession. The other one has become more friendly to the potty-- he realized he could get a treat if he sat on it. But one morning I grabbed the wrong twin to commence in potty training and was met with a huge fit. Needless to say, he's freaked out of the toilet so the older twin is the only one who is potty trained. And I think I can finally safely say, "Potty trained!"

I started when I had a week off from work. I gave him a little treat each time he sat on the toilet. Then when he went on the toilet he got to watch 15 minutes of a movie. We started out with him wearing no bottoms at all, and I'd put diapers on him at nap time and bed time. I was impressed. He even pooped in the toilet. Though he would ask, "Where did the poop go?" after I'd flush it.

 After two days we tried just underwear. No pants. Sometimes we'd go out, and he would have to use pants. He would usually do pretty well. Sometimes he wouldn't go while we were out, but he would pee his pants when we got home. That was frustrating! Moving from nothing to wearing underwear led to a couple accidents. I changed it from sitting on the potty every 15 minutes to every 10. We were beginning to be mildly successful. Then a trip to the doctors led to two accidents, very close together, and a little boy running around McDonalds in a diaper and a shirt.

Pants and underwear seemed not to work so well. And the diapers at nap and bed time seemed to lead to him just waiting until then to go. So we nixed the diapers at nap and bed time. Which led to bed wetting a couple times through the night. The nap was OK, however. Now we have him go to the bathroom before bed, put a pull-up on him and we all sleep peacefully through the night. He even woke up dry once.

We had some issues when he would go with Grandma. I told my mom to just take off his pants and underwear, and he would probably go in the toilet. Now he does great when we visit people. Even if I'm not there. 

I have to admit I was at a loss at times.

He'd have accidents and I would feel like a failure.

He would earn his play place trip for going on the potty, and getting all his stickers, and a few seconds after being there he would pee his pants.

He would ask to go potty, I'd rush to the nearest bathroom, he wouldn't go and then 10 minutes later he would ask again. This pattern would repeat several times until I just wanted to scream-- this only happened when we were out. I was used to kids that when you took them to the bathroom they would go, but not my little guy. He went when he was ready.

Sometimes I would get frustrated and say we were staying in the bathroom until he went. This would lead to an emotional outburst, from him and maybe a little me. These, and others, would make me worry that maybe he wasn't ready, and I had traumatized him by starting him too soon.

But all these problems slowly faded away as time went on.

*To help when we are out we carry around a little plastic toilet with us-- which is our number one toilet choice for the little one right now. This sometimes leads to a game of musical toilets.

Our only problem now is the pooping. He suddenly stopped pooping in the toilet, which is pretty normal. I offer him a diaper to poop in and he just says, "No diaper! I want underwears!"

One time I came downstairs and he had pooped his pants. He had then taken wipes and shoved them down his underwear to clean him self up. He did this when he would poop on the toilet too. I came upstairs to find a poop covered toilet, with a boy using a wad of poop covered wipes, desperately trying to clean up the mess.

"I clean up!" He would say.

It was kind of sweet, and a little disgusting :).

We're still working on the pooping thing.

Our potty training venture has led to the use of a lot of charts and stickers. At first we had a chart where he would get a smiley for sitting on the toilet, and a sticker for going potty. When he got 100 smileys he could pick a treat from the bucket. When he got 25 stickers he could go to the playplace. This has started to get confusing, so we changed it to a smiley for going potty and a sticker for a day of no accidents. Same prizes apply-- though we had to change the treat to a "big treat" because the treat bucket has become a small reward for going on the potty.

We waited till one in the morning one night for him to go to the bathroom before bed-- this was before the pull-ups idea. This was an effort to make it through the night without bed wetting. Well, unfortunately, while we were waiting he drank some of my soda, and wet the bed anyway. His refusal to go before nap and bedtime led to us giving him a treat from the bucket if he did. This led to him wanting a treat every time he went. Which led to the question, "Do you want a treat or a movie?"

 I just go with it. I figure, like the other things, it will eventually fade out. 

Last weekend we were shopping at Ikea and he wanted a train set. The train set was cheap, and I felt like I would just get it for him for doing so well on the potty. But we're poor and can't afford to pay bills, so I felt like I shouldn't spend money on something like that. We made a deal, if he could get really good at potty training-- no accidents, no pooping his pants and waking up dry-- he could earn the train. We made another chart with 100 squares. He gets a sticker each time he does one of the things I mentioned. Sadly, I think he forgot about the train.

When I started potty training I thought, "This will be a step towards things getting a little easier."

Wrong! It's almost easier to leave them in diapers. But it will be easier one day.

I also started out saying, "I won't get upset. I won't yell. I want this to be positive. I don't want it to be traumatizing and awful."

Well, that flew out the window fast. Each accident just made me want to cry. It felt like a missed opportunity for him to really get it.

 I've heard a lot of stories about how children can get really messed up if you approach potty training wrong. It made me nervous. I felt like it was a task I could never accomplish. Having done it feels wonderful! I'm so proud of him! And I'm proud of me too! Every time he goes on the toilet I still have to do a little happy dance!

That's my boy! Note the harness. Santa brought the boys these harness' with straps for when we go out. This is because they refuse to sit in the stroller. I can't say it makes things easier, but after almost loosing one of the twins, I have to say it makes things safer.

A Visit With My Feelings

We have been doing a lot as far as rebuilding a relationship goes. We just had two days-- Our Anniversary and Valentine's Day-- focused on relationships-- one more exclusively based on us-- to sit down and think about how we can make the other feel special. Though I found that as these days drew nearer I kind of had a sour out look on things.



When I heard about young engaged couples, anxiously awaiting their wedding day, I felt no excitement. When I thought about our wedding my feelings were mixed. I didn't want to regret it. As I look at my life there's no one I'd rather be with then my husband, but I would ask myself, "Knowing what you know now, would you go back and tell the you in the past to still get married, or not?"

My answer hurt me.

"I don't know! Is there a part of my marriage that was worth all the pain and hardships? Well, there's my kids, but if I never got married, I would never have had them and I would never know there was something to miss."

I know! It's not the most positive train of thought. And it hurt me that I felt that way because I always thought of myself as someone who knew better than that.

Well maybe I did.

There is the me. The real me. The "Deep down this is who I really am even though sometimes I have emotions that disagree with that me" me. And I think for a brief moment the real me gave in and let the hurt me take over.

In counseling we have been talking about many things. We have talked about how people just want to be understood, even if the problem can't be solved, and this can be achieved through reflective listening-- and exercise where you listen to what the other person says and reflect the statement back to them. We have also talked about exploring your feelings and not ignoring them or trying to lock them away. Something I've always been a true believer in-- it's OK if I feel this way, this emotion doesn't have to be who I am so I can be OK with having it. I guess part of me lost sight of truly exploring every aspect of my feelings, or I was too scared to really look at them.

The counselor has given me some interesting steps into how to better explore these feelings. He said to envision your feeling as a person, and ask it questions like: Why do you feel this way, what to you think will happen and, my personal favorite, what are you afraid of. The tricky part when asking the questions is to really focus on whether the true me is answering of feeling part of me. Once I get down to looking at the feeling, and really seeing it's answers to the questions, I can just let it go. In a sense it's still there, but it doesn't have as much control over me as it did before.

As I did this today I realized more and more that I had done this before. That I did know how to really look at my feelings, I just hadn't lately. And being able to recognize the skill, I had already built, was still there made the exploration of my feelings easier.

I noticed once I found out what the feelings fears were I could just easily get past them. I sort of told myself, "Oh that's it? Well I know that this is the truth, so that doesn't have to be a fear."

I came to a realization. Maybe feelings are like people. They don't want to be solved, they just want to be understood. And once the are understood suddenly you don't have to fight them anymore.

So what my high school grammar teacher said was true, "Talking to yourself doesn't mean your crazy. It's a sign of intelligence." And it's also a way to get centered and focused on the true you. The you that is filled with the spirit. The you that knows what truly brings about happiness.



To my husband:

I love you! And there isn't anyone else I would rather be with. Working through all of this together will give us both a better sense of appreciation for what one is willing to do for the other. And that is how true love is built. Happy 4th Anniversary. I can't believe it's only been 4 years! I feel like I've known you my whole life. We've had a crazy life, but crazy is what makes it ours. I love you!

Love,
Me

The Marathon is Over

Ever since I got pregnant with my third I have felt like I've been running a never ending marathon. Completely exhausted and stretched to my limits, I constantly felt, "Will I ever catch a break?"

Life seemed to throw never ending trials our way. There was no stability in life. I lost my temper everyday, which, even though I have a hot temper, is kind of unusual. I can usually keep it cool for at least a month.

The trials we were sent seemed to say that what I felt was normal. That having three kids under three, a husband working and in school and not enough money to cover basic expenses was enough to explain this endless race I was in. But even so I'd sometimes look at things and think, "Should it really feel this exhausting all the time?"

Little did I know what underlying problems existed in my life. Problems that kept happiness from being a part of our everyday life. Well now the problems are found, the marathon is over and hear come the aches and pains.

Everyday my heart weighs heavy with a pain. A pain that only time can heal. I have gotten progressively better, but the pain still exists. I have gotten past the anger, for the most part, but still the pain remains. So tiring is this burden that at times I still wish I could just leave this life and move on to the next. Thoughts that don't come often, but sometimes manage to creep their way in.

As my husband and I work together to build our relationship back up, my faith is slowly restored, my trust begins to return and my hope that I have made the right decision is renewed. Visits with The Bishop, The Stake President and with our counselor have all helped us to take a step towards being healed. Slowly the pain lessens. But it may be something that always exists.

We have been truly blessed in our time of need. Our ward is amazing, and the church has helped us in so many ways. I am just so grateful that I have it in my life.

I have come through a trial I never thought I'd have to bear. It has caused hardship, and heartaches, that I didn't think I was capable of enduring. Once again the Lord has found a way to show me how strong I really am. Sometimes I look at my life and think, "Is this life really mine? Are these really the trials I'm asked to face? Must this be the life I'm asked to live?"

Even so, I think the reward for these trials will be much sweeter than had they not come. They themselves are blessings in disguise that showed me that the life I was living didn't have to be acceptable. And for that I am grateful.

Dear Katie Herzig. . .

. . .You may not know this but your song "Lost and Found" has profoundly effected me. More so then anyone would think a song could effect someone.

I first heard it on Grey's Anatomy. I thought to myself, "That's a good song!"

Then I started hearing it on the tell end of the We Bought a Zoo trailer. I simply had to hear more of that song. The few seconds on the trailer were not enough. And so began the search.

"This will be easy." I thought. "I don't think I'll have any problems finding this song."

Well I was wrong. I searched high and low. I typed phrases in every form. I looked at You Tube video after You Tube video. I finally went straight to Google. After reading some message boards I finally found it. It was such a relief to click on that video and hear that tune was dying to hear.

I couldn't stop replaying it. It was so inspiring. Even though I didn't know what I was inspired to do, it made me feel like I could do something.

I impulse ordered the CD. I couldn't wait for it to come. It would be a couple days because of the holidays so I tried to be patient. I listened to the song every time I got on the computer. Sometimes I spent way to long on facebook, or checking email, just trying to find something to do so I could keep listening.

The real miracle of the song came later. When I came to the knowledge of something that has caused me more pain than I care to remember. My world was black. There was no up or down. There was no reason or logic. There was only pain. Pain and anger. I wanted to be numb. To not feel anymore. I wanted to stop having to battle all the emotions going through me. My heart was broken. If not for my kids, I would have just wished to die.

I remember waking the next morning wishing the sun hadn't risen. Wishing that tomorrow hadn't come. But I woke up and did my best to carry on through the day.

And then the CD came. Now, getting a CD can be fun and exciting. Especially when you love music. And especially when you're poor. But that isn't the blessing it brought.

I stuck it in a player. I went straight to track 10, "Lost and Found". I took long slow breaths. I breathed in the music and the words. As I exhaled I could feel a little weight from my heart escaping amongst music. I listened to the song over and over. Every time it gave me just enough strength to cope.

It didn't solve my problems, but it helped me to release some of the pain. I look back now and realize what a blessing it was that your CD came the day it did. A small, simple blessing, but a blessing all the same.

If the only purpose this song served was to help me through this trial, in the way that it did, then I assure you your talents and efforts were not wasted. But I also know it has touched many other people as well.

I don't expect this to ever be read by Katie Herzig herself. But I still wanted to put it out there. It truly was a blessing to find this song. As strange as that sounds.