Baby Boy McKellar

I know you are all wondering and I know that you will not pry.  And I thank you for your patience and your love.  The overwhelming sense of caring and love that you have given has been a healing balm to our aching hearts.  The flowers are a constant reminder of the love and support of friends and family.  The kind words, though often making me cry all over again, lift us up.  We are so grateful for all of you.  We love you and we thank God for you.  So, for those of you who wonder and need to know, or are even just curious, here is out story...or at least the best I can give you...

On Monday, December 10, 2012, I went in for a routine 16 week baby check up.  It was later in the day and I left Sierra and Mialee home to babysit.  I had been rushing and hustling and had not thought much about my appointment and so as I got to the hospital and began the walk into the building, I began to contemplate it a bit.  I was imagining the usual happenings of a routine check up and suddenly had a flash of a scenerio where my doctor could not find a heartbeat and then me calling Jason to tell him the news.  I obviously dismissed it...until it happened.  The funny thing was that as I lay there looking into my doctors face, watching for signs of panic, she was totally calm and not the least bit worried.  She kept saying, "Wow, this little baby is really hiding from us today."  And she would look a little bit more.  "Hmm, this baby doesn't want to be found."  And more looking.  After several minutes she gave up and said, "Well, we'll just have to go find it on the ultra-sound."  So off we went to do an ultra-sound, and still she was not the least bit worried...until it happened.  There on the screen was my baby.  Unmoving.  And no heartbeat.  She looked and looked and she was honestly shocked, more so than I was.  After 5 healthy, mundane, pregnancies she never imagined this.  "So now what?"  I asked.  She explained that the baby was too big for my body to miscarry by itself at this point--or that it might take a long time to do so.  So I would have to be induced.  Wednesday Night.  I was supposed to call and see how busy the hospital was and get a time.  Wednesday night.  This was when the tears hit.  I quickly exited the hospital and began trying, desperately, to call Jason.  And, of course, my phone wouldn't work.  I eventually turned it off and back on again and called his work.  No answer.  So I moved on to his cell.  Hearing his voice, I asked him where he was.  I needed him.  I wanted him.  NOW.  He was on his way  home.  "What is the matter?"  He asked.  I could barely choke out the words, "Our baby died.  It no longer has a heartbeat."  I told him I would just come home, and I wondered how I would make it.  I sobbed the whole way...

I cried the whole night.  I began to text family and friends, knowing that they needed to know, but unwilling to try to actually physically speak to anyone.  I was a little shocked and a lot sad.  Once I finally slept, I slept soundly, until one of my sick kids woke me up--and it all came rushing back.  Then the tears began again.  My head hurt so bad and I just couldn't stop crying.

I had two days to process the loss of this baby before I had to go in and be induced.  And I did well at that.  What I didn't do was process the fact that I had to actually go in and have a baby.  That started to hit me Wednesday and I was scared.  I was not prepared for labor and delivery.  It's one thing to have to lose your baby and whole other thing to have to go in and give birth to it.  But regardless, it had to happen.

The actually labor was easy.  I wish all labors were that easy.  Under six hours and out he came.  The hospital staff were wonderful and the Share Parents volunteers were a God-send.  We came home Thursday afternoon.

Jason and I decided not give this little baby a name.  He was really only the beginning of a baby.  A hope of things to come.  A hope taken away.  He will be cremated and buried at the Angel Statue in Baby Land of the Logan Cemetary.

So, this is our story.  And how are we?  We are doing well.  Our faith is strong.  I regret shutting everyone out, but honestly I couldn't do it.  I couldn't bear to see a soul.  It was my pain and mine alone and I wanted to deal with it on my own.  But I am doing better now.  I am still somewhat of an emotional wreck, but I am ready now.  Come hug me.  I can take it.

The miracle and the blessing of it all is that Jason and I are on the same page.  Our feelings are aligned and it has made it easy to talk through the loss of this little baby.  We both feel that our purpose here is to provide a home for God's children.  And if God didn't see fit for this little guy to make it, then we will cope.  Things are as they should be.  If, or when, the time comes for God to send us another baby to be stewards over, we will be ready and willing.  It's all part of a bigger plan and we feel His love and His reassurance.  Things are as they should be.

Even though the pain of it all is strong and I weep at the loss of a pregnancy and am still adjusting to not always protecting my tummy from the kicking feet of my other children and from not having to eat a snack just before bed so I can take my multi-vitamins and from feeling empty inside...I am grateful for the chance to appreciate the family that I do have.  Holding and hugging and being with my husband and five beautiful girls brings joy to my saddened soul.  Hearing them laugh and holding them as they cry soothes my aching heart.  We will be okay.  Things are as they should be.  Jason has stepped up his sympathy dial (I know, you didn't think it was possible) and has been an angel to fix us dinner and help in the care of our crew while my body heals from this loss--physically and mentally.  I am slow, but getting better.  I cry I lot, but I have a lot of happy moments too.  So, you may not believe me, but it's true...we will be okay.  We know that things are as a they should be....

 Baby boy actually officially weighed 3 ounces and was 6 inches long.

 He had perfect little hands and feet...

 Yet, he was so tiny and incomplete.

 This is my favorite picture--one I will always treasure of Jason holding that little tiny body.

God bless you all for your thoughts and prayers.  We love you!

Pick Up Sticks

On Primary Programs

This year it seems our primary program was destined to fail.  It all began a month or so ago when my Primary Chorister partner quit.  We had just had a meeting to begin our plan of attack on conquering the program.  I went to church assuming it was her turn to teach.  Needless to say, it was not one of the best Sunday's of my life...But, alas, we all must move forward.  No problem, no big deal, we can do this.

As the program gets closer we start to nail down our speaking parts, our solo parts, the duets, the special numbers, those darn third verses.  Then two weeks before the program one of our family's called and announced their intention to go to Park City the week of the program.  No big deal right.  Right, except that our 20 kid primary is now down to 18 and one of our solo's has just been eliminated and a trio will not have to be a duet.  But, hey, no problem, no big deal, we can do this.

The Friday before practice another family had a death and will now be gone for the funeral.  18 down to 16.  No problem, no big deal, we can do this.

Really we can.  If I can remember to cue the kids when I am supposed to!  Something I had not yet perfected on that Friday practice.  Sierra was also scheduled to play a violin solo and has worked on it for months.  The first time she tried it with the pianist she messed up and stopped.  Dead.  We talked a lot about just plowing through it, no matter what.  She learned.  She did it perfectly at home, but never in front of the primary.  Nikell had a solo and Mialee was part of that aforementioned duet.  And because I am a firm believer that primary programs should highlight kids and not be boring...we had a brother and sister duet singing "Love Is Spoken Here," a fun version of "I Want to Be a Missionary Now" where the kids took turns standing and singing different parts, sign language on "Stand for the Right" (with an added verse of President Hinkley's 6 Be's), and a slower more reverent version of "The Wise Man."  Boring details to you, I know.  But you have to try and understand the magnitude of what I was undertaking.  It was either going to be fabulous or an epic fail.  And with each passing month, week, and day I was leaning more toward epic fail.

At Friday's practice Nikell was quite ill (assumably gluten related).  Saturday she did okay, but that night she was up a lot of the night crying and moaning.  I was quite worried that she wouldn't make it on Sunday.

So what does it all matter?  It doesn't really, except for this:  My testimony has been strengthened.  Saturday I started in on some pretty serious praying.  Not the kind I had been doing all along, but the kind where I was having some pretty serious conversations, pleading my case, trying to make sure my heart was in the right place.  I plead for Sierra.  I wanted so badly for her first violin solo experience to be good and something that she could be proud of and not scare her forever.  I prayed for Nikell.  I wanted her to be able to stand and sing in that clear little voice of hers and touch hearts in only ways that she can.  And I prayed that angels would surround us and lift us up and magnify our little voices. I prayed that people's hearts would be touched and their testimonies made stronger.

And guess what?  It went fine.  I wasn't nervous in the slightest.  Okay, when they announced that another family had had a death and was in California at the funeral I may have panicked a little.  But the older sister brought them.  So, it went well and I was proud of those primary kids.  One of my wiggliest kids sang her heart out the whole time and they all actually looked at me.  They payed attention.  They stopped singing when I signaled.  They sat down when they were supposed to.  And it was fabulous.

And later I heard Sierra discussing her violin solo with her Grandma Beddes and I think she mentioned how she had prayed about it.  That's when I told her that I had prayed for her too.  Grandma told her that a lot of people had probably prayed for her--and she did her solo PERFECTLY.  And it was at this moment that I really stopped and was really grateful for a Father in Heaven who loves us.  I know that it was only through His power that our program went off without a hitch.  Now if I could somehow convey this to everyone else.  It wasn't me.  I am not amazing in any way.  Those primary kids have faith.  They come to church and sing and work because it's the right thing.  And God loves them.  And He loves little old me too.  And that's what our primary program taught me.

Backpacking at Bloomington Lake

This was our first "family" backpacking trip.  Jason was a trooper and carried most of the stuff.  But the girls each had a backpack and carried their sleeping bags and clothes and pads.  Nikell's pack was a little large for her, but she never complained.  And little Aiddie loved it!  She was a cruiser.  And Kiella enjoyed the dirt...and the ants...and the dirt.  On the way out she stopped to poke an ant (about the 3rd time).  I went back to get her and asked her if she had found a bug.  She looked up at me and said, "Woof."  So there you have it.

Playing in St. George...

Kiella is trying to climb up the wall like her Daddy

This was our way out of the Lava tubes.  This was a hike through the hot desert and into these lava-carved caves.  The boys positioned themselves up and passed the kids from person to person until they were out. 

Just after our Lava Tubes exploration.  Matt said it was fun, he was glad we did something stupid (as in dangerous) that day.  Ha ha.

Nikell and her bestest cousin Jake.  These two were inseparable.

This was our reaction to the St. George heat.  Talk about oppressive.

Jenny's Slot Canyon.  Short, sweet, and beautiful.

This was the wall Jason was climbing and Kiella was trying to follow.

Emerald Pools.  Aiddie hitched a ride.

This is her favorite CoCo.  She cries for him when we leave his presence.

When CoCo put her down, she quickly found another willing carrier.  She too smart (and cute) to actually hike.

There is a $100 fine for feeding the animals.  Pojo is apparently unaware of this, and by the looks of this mooching squirrel, he is not the only one.

56 Day Challenge...continues

Did any of you start your challenge yet?  Did you look at it and decide it wasn't for you?  Or are you gonna get your game on with me?

Week two.  You know I was thinking about it this week, this whole food tracking thing (which I despise and even blatantly rolled my eyes at my IPad and my LiveStrong App and shouted in my head, "Forget it.  Enough is enough!"  Yeah, it didn't happen so much that day(s)).  Did I tell you I don't like tracking food?  It's good for me and I will plug along at it, but seriously, it's almost like being pregnant--in that it consumes you.  Every time, EVERY TIME, I eat something I am sooo annoyed because I'm going to have to write it down.  And no, that doesn't stop me from eating it either.  It just lessens my enjoyment which is kind of the point of eating it and perhaps part of the problem.  And while I'm on the subject, what about you crazies that claim that you forget to eat?  I don't believe you.  And I definitely don't understand you.  That's like saying you forgot to get dressed.  You took a shower and then got busy and pretty soon half the day had gone by and there you were still naked.  Yeah right.

Okay, already.  My points were down to 69 this week, mainly because of my little temper tantrum about the food tracking.  I upped my exercise a bit (go me) and skipped a day or two of 3 veggie servings (cuz I ran out of blueberries and couldn't make my spinach smoothie).  Oh.  And I also refused to give up desserts.  All week.  I made these heavenly brownie, cupcake concoctions.  They were good.  Good thing I exercised more.  Hmmmm.  Perhaps I'll have to avoid making desserts for a few days....

56 Day Challenge

Let me just preface this post by saying that we have an amazing Stake Womens' Athletic Director.  She works very hard to incorporate physical fitness activities for people of all ages and needs.  Not only do we have volleyball and basketball but we also have zumba and an upcoming hiking and walking group.  And we recently started "The 56 Day Challenge."  This challenge, which I agreed to, is going to kill me if it doesn't make me better!  Ha ha.  What is it?  It's basically a point system that you incorporate into you life...and it's not really that bad.  You get points for exercising, drinking water, keeping a food journal, not drinking soda, eating your fruits and veggies, not eating dessert, sleeping, following a meal plan, and having personal goals.

We started last week.  And let me tell you, I looked at the list and quickly surmised that I was on the right track already for a lot of the items tracked in this challenge.  So, I thought to myself, "Sure, why not?  It will help me keep my current goals and keep better track of my life and give me the push I needed to add in a few things here and there... 

So here are my results thus far...I suck at eating fruits and vegetables.  I average 1or 2 of each a day unless I very consciously make myself eat them.  And I HATE keeping a food journal.  It's a big pain in the buttooshka.  However, I am realizing that I eat A LOT of calories cuz I like sugar and cheese and sugar and cookies and chocolate.  And I eat a lot of high-calorie foods.  It's a bad habit that's going to bite me in that aforementioned buttooshka one day.  So why not work on it now?  Exercise more or eat less.  And drink lots of water...

It you want to jump on the boat leave me a message and I'll email you a copy of the challenge...the more the merrier.

Baptism

Mialee got baptized today...it was a good day. She tries so hard to do what is right. She is very sensitive and compassionate and kind...We are proud of her. Her buddy Abe got baptized too. These two have been friends for a while now. Long enough that I have pictures of Abe willingly being Mialee's prince charming.

So my heart melted a little when they stood up and sang the Baptism Song together.

Yeah. It was a good day.

Do You Spring Clean?

I am taking a survey. It's a short one, so gimme some answers people. If you linger here and never answer my questions then shame on you... Okay, here it is (in case you didn't get it from the title):

Do you Spring Clean?

I don't usually "Spring Clean." To me it's a generic title closely related to "nesting" and it rubs me the wrong way. If a room or a spot or an area starts to bug me--I clean it. Otherwise, let those poor little dust-bunnies rest in peace. But this year, I just might jump in on the cliche.

This Spring Cleaning List is a good base to go off of. Just maybe I'll try it. Maybe all at once. Maybe on Saturdays. Hmmm, I'll have to mull it over and firm up my plans a bit... What about you? How do you do your Spring Cleaning? (I know, it was another question snuck into the survey, but seriously, you're here, just answer the questions!)

Source: whosay.com via Callie on Pinterest

Sierra: "The conductor at the Symphony had an accent."

Nikell: "What's an accent?"

Sierra: "It's like when they're from a different country."

Nikell: "And they accidentally came here?"

Me: "Aiddie, you need to stop being so obstinate." Do you know what obstinate means?

Aiddie: "Yaaeeeesss."

Me: "What?"

Aiddie: "Yucky."

Close enough.

Aiddie's Decree

Source: rookiemoms.com via Melissa on Pinterest

Happy Dr. Suess Day

25 Words Your 2-year-old Should Know

The Twenty-Five Words Every Toddler Needs to Know

25 key vocab building blocks.A two-year-old's limited vocabulary may red flag hearing problems, autism, or a developmental disorder such as dyslexia. Researchers from the Child Study Institute at Bryn Mawr College have identified a list of 25 words every toddler should be using by age two.

The average toddler uses 75-225 words and is able to combine them into phrases. Twenty-five is considered the minimum for late talkers. In a previous study, Rescorla demonstrated that children with normal delayed speech tend to catch up by four or five. She adds that when helping late talkers build their language skills, it's a good idea to focus on basic vocabulary.

The 25 common words that should form the building blocks of a toddler's vocabulary:

-all gone

-baby

-ball

-banana

-bath

-bye bye

-book

-car

-cat

-cookie

-daddy

-dog

-eye

-hat

-hello/hi

-hot

-juice

-milk

-mommy

-more

-no

-nose

-shoe

-thank you

-yes

Rescorla says parents shouldn't panic if their toddler is using fewer words than average, but they should consider having them evaluated by an expert. Early intervention offers the best outcome.

Pictures and Questions

All ready for church...and running late, as usual.

Hey, I have a question. Jason and I have been talking about vacation spots and Christmas traditions. Where is your favorite vacation spot? And what do you do ALL day Christmas?

I didn't write it...but I feel it.

To the Mother With Only One Child

by Simcha Fisher Thursday, January 19, 2012 7:00 AM

Dear Mother of Only One Child,

Don’t say it. Before the words can even pass your lips, let me beg you: don’t say, “Wow, you have nine kids? I thought it was hard with just my one!”

My dear, it is hard. You’re not being a wuss or a whiner when you feel like your life is hard. I know, because I remember having “only one child.” You may not even believe how many times I stop and reflect on how much easier my life is, now that I have nine children.

All right, so there is a lot more laundry. Keeping up with each child’s needs, and making sure they all get enough attention, is a constant worry. And a stomach bug is pretty much the end of the world, when nine digestive tracts are afflicted.

But I remember having only one child, and it was hard—so very hard. Some of the difficulties were just practical: I didn’t know what I was doing, had to learn everything. People pushed me around because I was young and inexperienced. But even worse were the emotional struggles of learning to be a mother.

When I had only one child, I truly suffered during those long, long, long days in our little apartment, no one but the two of us, baby and me, dealing with each other all day long. I invented errands and dawdled and took the long way home, but still had hours and hours to fill before I would hear my husband’s key in the door.

I cared so much what other people thought about her—they had to notice how beautiful she was, they had to be impressed at my natural mothering skills. I obsessed over childhood development charts, tense with fear that my mothering was lacking—that I hadn’t stimulated her enough, or maybe had just passed on the wrong kind of genes. I cringe when I remember how I pushed her—a little baby!—to achieve milestones she wasn’t ready for.

I lived in terror for her physical safety (I once brought her to Urgent Care, where the doctor somewhat irritably diagnosed a case of moderate sniffles) fearing every imaginable disease and injury. In my sleep-deprived state, I would have sudden insane hallucinations that her head had fallen off, her knees had suddenly broken themselves in the night, and so on.

My husband didn’t know how to help me. I didn’t know how to ask for help. My husband had become a father, and I adored him for it. My husband got to leave the house every day, and sleep every night. He got to go to the bathroom alone. I hated him for it.

When I had only one child, I told myself over and over that motherhood was fulfilling and sanctifying and was filling my heart to the brim with peace and satisfaction. And so I felt horribly guilty for being so bored, so resentful, so exhausted. This is a joyful time, dammit! I should enjoy being suddenly transformed into the Doyenne of Anything that Smells Bad.

I loved my baby, I loved pushing her on the swing, watching squirrels at the park together, introducing her to apple sauce, and watching her lips move in joyful dreams of milk. But it was hard, hard, hard. All this work: is this who I am now? I remember!

So now? Yes, the practical parts are a thousand times easier: I’m a virtuoso. I worry, but then I move along. Nobody pushes me around, and I have helpers galore. Someone fetches clean diapers and gets rid of the dirty ones. When the baby wakes up in the middle of the night for the ten thousandth time, I sigh and roll my eyes, maybe even cry a little bit for sheer tiredness—but I know it will pass, it will pass.

It’s becoming easier, and it will be easier still. They are passing me by.

I’m broken in. There’s no collision of worlds. We’re so darn busy that it’s a sheer delight to take some time to wash some small child’s small limbs in a quiet bath, or to read The Story of Ferdinand one more time. Taking care of them is easy. It’s tiring, it’s frustrating, but when I stop and take a breath, I see that it’s almost like a charade of work. All these things, the dishes, the diapers, the spills—they must be taken care of, but they don’t matter. They aren’t who I am.

To become a mother, I had to learn how to care about someone more than I did about myself, and that was terrible. But who I am now is something more terrible: the protector who can’t always protect; the one with arms that are designed to hold, always having to let go.

Dear mother of only one child, don’t blame yourself for thinking that your life is hard. You’re suffering now because you’re turning into a new woman, a woman who is never allowed to be alone. For what? Only so that you can become strong enough to be a woman who will be left.

When I had only one child, she was so heavy. Now I can see that children are as light as air. They float past you, nudging against you like balloons as they ascend.

Dear mother, don’t worry about enjoying your life. Your life is hard; your life will be hard. That doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong—it means you’re doing it right.

Read more: http://www.ncregister.com/blog/to-the-mother-with-only-one-child#ixzz1lQnFqMJm

A Few Menu Ideas...

First Up:

Chicken Enchilada Casserole

in which I will probably try corn tortillas because I like the flavor and texture better--but Jason prefers flour--so maybe half and half!

Next:

Pesto Chicken Alfredo Casserole

Yummy--can't wait to try it!

And Last (from Nicole)

Chicken Cordon Bleau Casserole

Oh, and you can't forget a quick dessert. Put the kids to bed and have yourself a bit of cake...

1-2-3 Cake!

Okay, and one more...

Snickerdoodle Bread!

I'll have to look for the cinnamon chips--but it might be a fun adventure!

Movie Night Friday

We usually have Movie Night Friday at our house. After which the children are wired and crazy. Upon yelling for them to all go brush their teeth, Mialee proclaimed, "Last one there is a cotton egg!" Everyone went a-runnin. After all, you wouldn't want to be a cotton egg.

A Few Faces

Cutie-face Kiella

Pouty-face Aiddie

The Baby Crawls!

I decided I had better get Kiella's little worm-crawl on video before it was too late. When you watch this you'll see that crawl. But then imagine my surprise when the she decided to try again and started crawling for real!

BTW--this video was captured with the camera that I broke. Thanks to my husband for coming home and calmly fixing it for me.

The Good News and the Bad News

So I needed to make breadsticks today for a funeral.

So I did. And the good news is they turned out great. And then I went to nurse Baby and came back to a very incomplete pan of breadsticks.

The Bad News is the two-year-old helped herself. The Good News is that I was gonna make another pan anyway, for us to eat. The Bad News is that I burnt it.

So I had to make another pan...after I had already done all the dishes. The good news is that I while making soup to go with the breadsticks I got to use my insanely awesome veggie chopper that slices carrots like nobody's business.

The Bad News is that I dropped my camera taking a picture of the insanely awesome veggie chopper.

And now it only takes pictures like this... And I lost the other camera at Disneyland a while back.

The good news is that we have the modern technology of telephones so I could call my husband and tell him the bad news and not have to witness the rolling eyes and the clenched jaw (cuz imagining it in my head is not as bad). I don't like it when he rolls his eyes at me like dropping things is a sign of intelligence. It's not. It happens to the best of us. And sometimes it happens more to some of us than others, despite our best efforts. That, and we lose stuff. I know, I know, it's annoying, but when you've had to live with it as long as I have you learn that sometimes stuff just happens. Stuff like dropping stuff and losing stuff. If I could control it I would--somewhat like if he could keep rhythm I'm sure he would.

I don't have any more good news. Cuz knowing how much a new camera costs is not good news. And knowing that I don't have any moneys to buy a new camera is not very good news either. I guess it might be good news that I am willing to save my moneys for a while so I can buy myself a purty new camera. Yeah, we'll go with that.