Almost Waving. Also, William Wallace is kicking Che's A$$.

Whatchu Talking About Willis? (Too soon?)

I heard a story, once, about a man who was waving at the beach, from where he was swimming in the ocean. Those on the beach waved back, thinking he was so friendly, and he waved back at them. This continued for a while, until the people on the beach got tired of waving back, started to grumble about how this dude just KEPT waving. Sheesh. Then the man disappears in the surf. Turns out he was not waving, but drowning. (I am sure it is more eloquent in the story. And then a boy throws a starfish onto some footprints or something.)

This story has always stuck with me, because the phrase "Not waving--drowning" has exemplified my struggles with clinical depression. I put on a good face--W calls it my Game Face--and can smile and fake it with the best of them, but ultimately I am just drowning, hoping someone will notice and come save me. Because I am almost completely incapable of not waving, of calling out, of asking to be saved.


And these past two weeks have been so full of people wanting to save me, to help me, to lighten my load, that I have been rendered motionless, lest I burst into tears at every moment.

When faced with trials, I am pretty good at not asking "why me?" but, rather, "what do I need to learn?" And I am gobsmacked by the realization that I need to learn to accept help. These are my top four phobias:

• Asking for help
• Asking for directions
• Answering the phone
• Down escalators

So you can imagine the level of discomfort I have been facing the past two weeks. Because not only have I had to be helped, people wanted to CALL ME TO TELL ME THEY WERE HELPING ME.

My little Cosby Kid.

It is only because I am too sore to go to the mall and ride an escalator that I have been saved from a complete emotional collapse.

But I feel like I am coming out of it--this haze, this feeling of struggling against the waves that want to pull me under. I even returned a phone call today. (Just one. Don't get your hopes up.)
And I wanted to thank you for your prayers and your thoughts and your concerns. I can feel them. And I need them. WE need them, W and Jooj, and The Dude and I. (Still trying out nicknames. Nothing seems to stick yet. Maybe when he is home?)

He is off of the bili mat, out of an isolette, regulating his own temp, and getting bigger every day. His poops are legendary around the NICU. He still needs to finish his bottles but, as W puts it, "If there was a way I could sleep and eat at the same time, I would totally do that too." So maybe it is a genetic sort of laziness. And he is still blond. Hence the reference with the dollar signs in the title. (So there is hope for you, Carolyn, that Stew will never show up in your children.)

I love you guys. And I hate pumping.
And I still am not answering the phone. But thanks for calling anyway. It makes a difference to this one.

Two days old

"Here then is a great truth. In the pain, the agony, and the heroic endeavors of life, we pass through a refiner’s fire, and the insignificant and the unimportant in our lives can melt away like dross and make our faith bright, intact, and strong. In this way the divine image can be mirrored from the soul. It is part of the purging toll exacted of some to become acquainted with God. In the agonies of life, we seem to listen better to the faint, godly whisperings of the Divine Shepherd. "
--Elder James E. Faust

I went to my doctor's appointment last Monday, where they quickly determined that my blood pressure was really high. They transferred me to the University Hospital where they determined I had severe preeclampsia. They told W that I was either going to have a c-section immediately or have a stroke or heart attack in a bit. They prepped me, put me on magnesium sulfate, and wheeled me into emergency surgery. They pulled my son out almost seven weeks too soon. I saw his feet. Then they hit me with narcotics and wheeled me away. I stayed in bed on the magnesium sulfate for 24 hours. A day later I was able to be wheeled to the recovery wing. At midnight, a full day after his birth, I saw my son for the first time. He was tiny and covered in wires. Two days later I was discharged. He is still in the hospital.

Leaving him there is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. My sweet W has ten days of paternity leave, and we have spent them driving back and forth, twice a day, to hold our little man for an hour or so. Sometimes we get to feed him or bathe him, depending on the time we arrive. The nurses are all very sweet and are taking good care of him. When I am not at the hospital I am attached to a milking machine. Super hot. It is all I can do for him, really, so I make sure that I am able to pump as often as I can.

I cry a lot. A lot. I can't imagine what I would be like without the medication. Everything is so hard--I am not functioning well. I have never been so grateful to be married to my sweet W. He has really taken care of me during this time. If Jooj marries someone half as amazing as her father, she will be incredibly lucky and loved. He has held me while I sob, while I question what I could have done differently, while I apologize for being horrible at gestating. He takes milk to the freezer at 2 AM, he brings me pain killers at all hours, and he gives me Priesthood Blessings whenever I ask. I have a new appreciation for the Priesthood and the Atonement of Jesus Christ; I can't imagine doing this without either. I keep repeating the quote in the header; the only thing that makes this bearable is the knowledge that I am becoming better acquainted with God. And sometimes that helps. (To be honest, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes nothing helps but a long nap and smelling the hat I take home from the NICU that has his scent on it.)

The house is really quiet; Jooj is in California with my folks. They happened to be visiting when I went to my routine appointment, and were totally on the ball when I was delivered. They packed her up, flew her back, and she has been spoiled and in total heaven ever since. It is possible she will refuse to come back home. We shall see. It was a tender mercy like no other that my take-charge stepmother was on hand to get things sorted out. She knew which questions to ask, which plans to make, and which things to get done. She is the person you want in a crisis, for sure.

The little man is doing better. He has been breathing on his own since day two. Today he is officially off of the photo therapy mat, and has no IV. He still has a feeding tube, but only because he falls asleep before he finishes his bottles. In order to bring him home he needs to reach at least four pounds and finish all of his food orally. So that is what we are praying for. Because I need him home. I need all of my chicks back in the nest. I can't breathe deeply, I can't think clearly, I need him home.

So if you have any extra prayers, can you send them our way?

Hooray for Generosity!

So, Soybean Lover won the custom kids apron for $35!

and Mrs. Cropper won the vintage apron for $65!

And Shirye won the slippers for whatever she is donating!

Thanks for the Stephanie love, and we'll see if I can get it going for another auction net month.

Nie Nie Day Auction!

So, as most of you know (all 12 of you readers) the internets are abuzz with love and service and glad tidings for our favorite Stephanie and her favorite family. One of the ways that people are banding together in a spirit of love and support (take a hint, Democrats!) is through auctions. So here are my offerings--two for the kids, one for the labies:

Item 1: This is a vintage pink apron, with hand-stitched chicken scratchy embroidery. It is a gingham, cotton half-apron and I love it. It has pockets, even. It will fit you. You should bid on this!

Item 2: I will make your kid some amazingly awesome slippers. You choose the color scheme, you choose the size. They go up to the ankle and are soft and slippy-slidey. (I estimate that these will take me a week or so to make, so be patient.)

One is the loneliest number. Especially when Jooj loses the other slipper.

Item 3: A fabulous kids apron. You choose the color scheme, you choose the size. And I even have some Olivia fabric left, if you have a little Livvy around! (Again, about a week, so be patient.)

How this will work: Leave your bid, and the item #, in the comments below. The auction will go until Midnight on Sunday (MST). The winning bids will then send the money to the NieNie fund (the button on the side bar) and I will send you your stuff! ALL proceeds from this auction are going to the Nielsons, so bid high, and bid often. As DesignMom says,

"I told Ben Blair that I'm hoping people are in a public radio mindset. Like when you hear the NPR commentators say: "pledge your membership of only $75.00 and we'll send you this canvas tote bag with our logo on it." You know the tote bag is worth maybe $5. But it's not about that. You're looking for a way to be generous and supportive. And the tote bag is just a bonus."

PS, thank you.

PPS: In Target yesterday Jooj told me "My vagina says thanks!" The end!

A NieNie Evening

So I, like many of you, have been thinking constantly of Stephanie, and was inspired to have a little slice of NieNie for the evening. (Well, as best as I can do it, being deficient in all things fancy and fabulous...)






"The family is ordained of God. Marriage between man and woman is essential to His eternal plan. Children are entitled to birth within the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother who honor marital vows with complete fidelity. Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ. Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities."
--The Family: A Proclamation to the World



Thanks for a great evening, Stephanie! My thoughts and prayers are with you and yours...Get Better ASAP and get back to making me and my efforts look pretty lame by comparison!

**bird art from mychloeflower.com

Pray Often

NieNie, one of our favorite bloggers and ladies, sister to some of our other favorite people, and her husband were critically hurt in an airplane crash this past weekend. Please keep Stephanie and Christian, their families, and the Kinneard family in your prayers and, if you can, in your pocketbook.

These are the times that make us want to hug those close to us tightly, and keep them in our arms, extra safe.