Journal Entry: January 13th, 2009 He's in the details

My aunt passed away last week. She had a very aggressive case of breast cancer. I saw her last in October, when we took a make shift Thanksgiving dinner up to my grandmas' house, figuring it would be the last bit of time we got to spend with each other. I'm so glad I did that. She got to sit and visit with my children. I was able to kiss her supple cheek goodbye. At that time we thought she had 6 months to 1 year before she would go. It was only 3 months. Oh how I wish I knew if she were in heaven that I could see her again. That probably sounds horrible, but I didn't know her well as an adult. I never spoke with her about the things of God. I never heard her say that she's trusts Jesus to be her Savior.


All I know about her life is that she was raised Mormon and was married the first time in the Mormon temple. Later, when I was about 5 yrs old, maybe, I vaguely remember going to a church service where she was baptized. I remember her "goin' in the tank." I knew that we weren't in a Mormon church, but that's about it. She was always the ONE person in my family that I felt I had gotten some of my physical attributes from. I may have looked like a cousin or someone from both sides of the family, but I always felt I got my height from my Aunt Barb. Height is a rare commodity in our family. I was taller than most of the males in the family for a long while. I always clung to that with her. And now too, her having two rambunctious boys that she was raising. I think about that all the time when I see my two guys wrestling or needing a trip to the emergency room. But if Aunt Barb could handle it, then so could I.


This is my dads sister. The second one to die, now he is left to care for his mom. His other sister died about 9 yrs ago from a brain tumor. He has had prostate cancer. The pressure must be heavy on him. But he has mentioned several times that Aunt Barb is in heaven. He seems to be satisfied with the knowledge of her trusting in Jesus. So in a weird way, I have to ride on his coat tails on this one.


This brings me to the point that I want to make. I don't want there to ever be a question of whom I adore, of whom I trust. I want to live my life in a way that everyone who meets me knows. It's not fair for there to be questions from those left behind as to where the dearly departed are now. It agonizing. I know that God only knows the hearts of men, and He is the author and finisher of our faith, but there shouldn't have to be the lingering questions.

"Do not neglect the gift that is in you, which was given to you by prophecy with the laying on of hands of the eldership. Meditate on these things; give yourself entirely to them, that your progress may be evident to all. Take heed to yourself and to the doctrine. Continue in them, for in doing this you will save both yourself and those who hear you." 1 Timothy 4:14

I had a doctor's appointment today. I was going to be seeing a midwife for the first time. I was a little nervous about it, seeing a midwife rather than a doctor. But I'm so glad I did. I scared myself pretty good last night. I had started coming down with a cold or flu bug or something a couple of days ago and I finally went to the store and bought some (what I thought would be) relief. I took the medicine as directed and started to feel better. I did get a bit loopy/dizzy from the antihistamine, but my sinuses started to feel better rather quickly. Well, the longer I sat in my haze, the more nervous I got. The baby was bumping around a lot until I took the pills, then about and hour later, he became less active. These are the things you notice when you've had a child die inside of you. Every nuance becomes the most important part of your day. Every wiggle is a reassuring sign that all is well. When the activity changes, you notice.

So all night long, the medicine I took to give me relief and respite only made me stay up and count kicks and rolls. I tried to sleep, would doze off, but startle myself awake wondering if I had killed my baby. He was so quiet. My upper sides were very uncomfortable, I would toss and turn from side to side, then worry that I was tossing too much and laying all of my weight on him. I wanted to lay flat on mt back for a while just to stretch things out, but I wouldn't because I know that can compress things. So back and forth, to and fro, right to left. At one point, I laid on my right side and was pushing downwards near my diaphragm, thinking that his foot was lodged in my ribcage. I rested my hand on my hip, trying to drift back off to sleep and felt a pulsating throb under my thumb. It was the first time I'd ever felt it. Mental note, it's about 4 am and there is still a heartbeat. You know, just in case it stops, I can know when I'd felt it last.

When it was finally time to get out of bed, I sat a little longer just to see if he bumped around. Nope. Not much. I showered, still not much. By the time I was driving and sipping my iced coffee and he wasn't moving, I was getting more and more nervous. I prayed in the car to have God shift him. And he did. He woke up and I could feel him squirm. Whew. But that was a long 7 minute car ride that's for sure!

After I arrived and they took me in the back and weighed me, which to my chagrin, I have gained almost 6 pounds in 2 weeks. Yikes! But it puts me at only 7 pounds over my starting weight (not including what I had lost in the beginning). I'm not usually much of a numbers person, but this just makes me think that he's gonna be a fat baby. I had a dream the other night that he was a 9 lb 3 oz bundle of chub. It was the first dream I've EVER had being pregnant that I could actually see the baby's face. and you know what? It was beautiful. And a girl. hahahaha. Guess I'm still working thru my feelings on that one. lol. We called her Sophie. That's not even one of my favorite girl names. Go figure.

When the midwife came in I was fine. She asked about the baby by name, which is nice and also asked if I was doing ok, all of the typical things. I'd mentioned about my little freak out the night before with the meds but followed up with now he's moving, literally right at that moment, so I knew he was ok. Then with the most compassionate voice, she said "You know it's not your fault what happened right? You didn't make your baby die". I know that. And I'm sure I've heard it before, but somehow, when she said it, it lifted the heavy burden I'd been carrying.

We chatted about Charlotte and this baby. And in that I learned she is a Christian. I cried even harder. What a blessing. She measured me and all is well. Except for the fact that he has moved again into a transverse position. Ugh. Well, that explains why I've been feeling so much discomfort on my sides. I thought so, but didn't think he'd flop over again!! She suggested that if I rub my big toe there is a pressure point that is said to help turn a baby.

After I left the office (with much higher spirits), I stopped by my mom's salon. She kept insisting that I get a pedicure (She gave me a gift certificate for Christmas). I didn't mention to her about the rubbing the toe thing. But I wanted to wait until closer to when the baby is due to get one, but she told me that she'll treat me to another one, but that I should really make an appointment soon. So I'm going on Friday and I'll have the girl really give my big toe a workout, lol.