For Ziggy

Today I found my safe spot.

Have you ever had a safe spot? It’s like in tag, when you map out a safety zone where no one can get you out. Some may call that cheating, but maybe it’s just good strategy. It’s your rendezvous spot, the place where you can pace your breathing, think clearly, and think out your next move.

On Tuesday I found out that my baby had died. Two week s ago I saw his little heart beating on ultrasound now only to witness his absolute stillness. Lance came with me to my 12-week appointment to see our baby for himself, since last time I had used the ultrasound machine at work to sneak a peek. He tried to calm my fears when the Doppler picked up only my heartbeat. But all those fears were confirmed when the doctor announced that our baby looked very small for 12 weeks. Very small.

No blood flow. No heartbeat. Not even a recognizable shape. My baby had died and my body didn’t do anything about it. I felt betrayed. For two weeks at least I had gone on, ignorantly, planning and praying for something that would never get the chance to fulfill the dreams I had created for it.

Maybe it’s my fault. I prayed so hard for my baby just to “hold on,” to stay firmly attached to me in order to continue growing. My body did hold on, even after my baby couldn’t. The literature says that many early miscarriages are a result of chromosomal abnormalities incompatible with life. I guess that’s why my baby didn’t really look like a baby. But even so, I can’t bring myself to think of him as only a bundle of cells or mass of tissue. Because he was mine. Or perhaps even better, Ours. Our creation, Lance’s and mine. Our baby. Our hope. Our chance to work with our Father in Heaven in fashioning the most marvelous gift of all: Life.

On Wednesday I had my first surgery ever. I underwent a procedure called dilation and curettage to clean out my womb. But instead of scraping out my uterus, I feel like they scraped out my heart. It’s strange to know that in just fifteen minutes I went from being pregnant back to my regular self. Nothing special. No need to avoid certain foods or medications, no excuse for weight gain. Just me, in the singular.

I put my baby name book in the closet. My stash of pregnancy information and prenatal vitamins are safely tucked away under the bed. And Lance’s Christmas present to me, a beautiful wooden rocking chair, will stay at his parents’ house for now. I guess that’s the key phrase right there: For now. Because amid the tears and the confusion, the pain and the sorrow, there is peace. There is peace because if we let him, there is someone who will give it to us:

He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.
He telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names.
Great is our Lord, and of great power: his understanding is infinite (Psalm 147:3-5).

If the Savior knows the name of every star in the sky, surely he knows mine. Even if I don’t understand the plan, he does. And because he has felt it himself, he can heal my broken heart and bind up my wounds. And as I have tried to let go of my disappointment and let the Savior aid me, I found my safe spot. The place where I could catch my breath and plan out my next move.

I found it on the couch. As we knelt to pray, Lance wrapped his arms around me and nestled his head against me. And I felt safe. Warm. Like nothing and no one in the world could tag me out. I felt as if the Savior was using my own sweet, dear husband to let me know how much He loves us. I felt, like Lehi, that “… the Lord [had] redeemed my soul from hell… and I am encircled about eternally in the arms of his love” (2 Nephi 1:15). And for the first time in days, I felt peace. It was the point when knowing things would be alright and believing they would became the same. And instead of wondering if I did something wrong, I prefer to think on what Lance said just after our prayer. He said that maybe there was a little spirit up there that so wanted a body, and so wanted to be our baby, that he just couldn’t wait-- even though his body wasn’t meant to last very long. I’m not saying it’s doctrinal, but it is nevertheless a beautiful thought, and one that has brought me comfort.

There will be relapses. There have been already today. And I have no idea how difficult it will be for us to finally get our baby. But it’s going to be okay. One of the greatest challenges of our lives is to learn to trust in our Heavenly Father’s plan. And he has provided even for that, through the gift of his Son. As Elder Nelson said, “Thanks to Him, no condition is hopeless. Thanks to Him, brighter days are ahead, both here and hereafter. Real joy awaits each of us—on the other side of sorrow” (Oct. 2005 General Conference). So here’s to that other side! Through the help of our Savior, may we find it more quickly than we had even hoped.

7+18=20?

Announcing..... Fifevergnuegen #20!

Stats:
ETA: June 7, 2010
EGA: 8 weeks
Sex: Unknown at present
Current size: Approximately .63 inches, .04 ounces (raspberry size)
Hobbies: Swimming, Water Polo
In utero name: Ziggy

Seeing the Future

This year for the annual Rees Family Halloween Party, Lance and I decided to take a look into our future. It isn't exactly pretty....

A future Grandpa and Grandma Rees?

Settling down with a nice bowl of chili to warm my aching bones...

Great Uncle Lance posing next to the Halloween decorations


My, how quickly fifty years go by... how young we were in that wedding picture in the corner!

The party was a success and everyone had a good time-- even us old geezers.

Monumental Move

Last Friday we got to witness a monumental move. A true testament to engineering ingenuity. A climax in constructional creativity. And it was about as exciting as watching grass grow.

Ok, so maybe I'm being a little harsh-- especially since Lance was so excited (this is the guy who used to pray for the tractors and other construction equipment as a kid). And actually, it was really cool. Around 10pm the existing bridge exit for American Fork Main street was closed to traffic so that spectators could watch from it as the new bridge was put into place. This new bridge, weighing in at 4 million pounds, is the largest bridge ever to be moved. Ever. Using some fancy equipment with wheels and a really, really big remote control, half of the bridge (complete with driving surface, guardrails and sidewalk) was inched over both south- and northbound lanes of I-15 to rest over the previously completed pillars. The second half was moved Sunday night. It took over three hours just to get it in place. So my comparison to watching grass grow is accurate- they could only move a bit at a time, making frequent stops to make sure nothing had twisted or shifted out of place. It was one of those things where if you stare at it you can't see it moving, but as soon as you look away and then look back, you can tell it isn't where it was before. In between staring across the street and listening in on the familiar awkwardness of a couple on their first or second date standing just behind us, I actually fell asleep for about half an hour. So, when I woke up, it looked like the bridge had actually jumped across the highway instead of crawled.

I think Lance may have stayed there all night, if by midnight I didn't have to go to the bathroom so bad from that free hot chocolate that was no longer keeping me warm. However, we did have a good time, and it's neat to say that we witnessed history in the making.

Going Steady

After a year of "floating," I am finally settling down. I just got my permanent schedule for American Fork Hospital. Now instead of taking turns at three different hospitals, I will just go to one and I'll have the same two week rotating schedule until the powers that be decide it needs changing.

Overall, my schedule is pretty good and my manager has a way of making one feel she's getting a deal. I only have to work two nights out of my six rotating shifts, and all the rest are day shifts. Which is lovely-- except for that Sunday. I do have to work every other Sunday, which really stinks, but until people stop having babies I'm afraid someone's got to do it. And one of those "someones" is me. At least for now. The nice thing is that I do have my schedule set now for the rest of the year and the one to come, so it is easier to plan. Not only that, but I can forget about trying to fit in with three different sets of staff, remembering what each hospital does differently than the others, and so forth. What a relief.

My new schedule starts in November and I look forward to leaving the pool and just being able to stay in one place. As a friend of mine once said, "Monogamy is key!"

The Third Annual Fakesgiving Feast

For those of you who don't know, Fakesgiving is fun-filled, friends-and-family feast which falls on the fourth Sunday of September. As a relatively new holiday, there are still many traditions in the making. However, it always involves good friends, good food, and declarations of what we are all fakesful for. Examples: "I'm fakesful for homework," or, "I'm fakesful I get to wake up at 4:30 am tomorrow," or how about, "I'm fakesful that when I realized I had just enough eggs to make my dessert on Sunday I dropped one on the kitchen floor," etc, etc...

This year, my dear friend Kalli hosted Fakesgiving. She is usually the driving force behind the holiday, mostly because she is the best hostess and the best cook. However, we all bring a little something and simply enjoy each other's company. With all the myriad ways there are to keep in contact with friends these days, it's amazing how seldom I actually do. It's been quite a while since I last saw my Mountainwood buddies so it was fun to catch up on what's new and to remember good times and old jokes. It's funny to think about all the things that have happened since the first Fakesgiving, and what perhaps will happen before the fourth. I guess all holidays are like that-- milemarkers in life that make us look back to see where we've been and to happily anticipate what's coming.

So, three cheers for Fakesgiving! May we all be thankful for it.

The Fatherland and my Mother's Land

Ever since I got home from my mission to Germany at the end of 2006, I've been wanting to go back. Turns out Lance has felt the same way, too. So this year, Lance and I decided to save up our money and go for it, before life gets too complicated. Fortunately, we also got to go to Austria in the same trip and spend some quality time with Mom, Dad, Laynie, and my cute Omi at her home in Graz. Here are a few highlight pictures from our trip:How we felt when we got there

My cute Omi

Graz

Visiting the salt mines in Salzburg

Die Ruine Goesting above Omi's house

The Freilicht Museum in Stuebingen

Vienna

Dortmund!!

Schloss Nordkirchen

The good old Mission home in Hamburg

Flensburg

Dresden

Waiting for some good eats in Munich

Schloss Lindenhof

The famous Neuschwanstein Castle

Can't wait to go back!