You Never Know about Strangers

A few years ago, we had a great vacation in California, complete with a 5-day park hopper pass to Disneyland and California Adventure, a 2 day stay with Robert's Uncle John, and several other fun visits to local amusements. On the night of the last day of our Disneyland adventure, we stopped by the gift shops on our way back to the hotel. Robert took the kids to choose one toy each, while I went to find myself a Disney sweatshirt.

While I was browsing through the clothing racks, I had an encounter with a stranger. She was also looking through clothing racks, while her son (about 8 or 9 years old) was sleeping on the floor nearby. I can't remember what happened exactly, but she said something rude to me and I replied rudely in return. I walked away to look at a different section of clothes, but was feeling stressed and terrible about my reply to her. Not because I cared about her, mind you, but because I didn't want to end my vacation with a guilty conscience, a few minutes (and a lot of self-talk) later, I went back to her and apologized for my rudeness, explaining that I was tired...it had been a long day.

She apologized to me, as well, explaining that she had 'lost' her son for several hours that day. They were both emotionally and physically exhausted, but she wanted to get a memento of their trip before heading home the next day. As a mom, I've 'lost' my children at stores in the past, but usually only for a minute or two (to find them hiding in a clothing rack or on a different aisle than expected). That minute or two of panic is real and extremely stressful, so I can't imagine how hard it must have been for that mom to have lost her son for several hours, especially at a place like Disneyland, where there are so many strangers and possible predators all over the place. The things she must have worried about and stressed over are unimaginable to me. It made me even more glad to have apologized, hopefully making her last few minutes at the park a little less terrible than it might have otherwise been if it had ended in rude words from a stranger.

For some reason I've been thinking about that encounter a lot today. I'm not sure why today of all days, as I didn't have any run-ins with rude people or have any bad-day issues, but regardless, I thought I'd share it with you anyway. I have thought about that over the years, as well, and I've tried to remember the lesson I learned from it. We really never know what other people are going through, especially if they're strangers to us. I try to remember that if someone is rude there may be an underlying reason; maybe a love one recently passed away or is sick, maybe they lost a job and are trying to figure out how to buy enough groceries for their kids, or maybe they just had an awful day for some other unknown reason. If someone cuts you off in traffic, maybe it's because they're speeding to get to the hospital in time to say goodbye or have a pregnant wife in the car (I know Robert broke several traffic laws when I was ready to deliver). We just never know, but we can do whatever it takes to not contribute to their bad day by being rude in return.

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My youngest child, Shaya, was baptized a member of our church yesterday. In our church we believe that a child must be old enough to know right from wrong (a general rule of thumb is at least eight years old) and old enough to make their own decision on whether they want to be baptized or not. Since she turned 8 a couple of weeks ago and chose to become LDS, she had her service yesterday. It was a nice ceremony, with several friends and family in attendance. (Those same friends and family came over for dinner afterwards; I had a wonderful time socializing with them while our kids and their cousins and friends hung out together).

The thought that this is my youngest and last child to get baptized made me cry a little. All my kids are growing up! I'm going to have a house full of teenagers soon and then not too long after that, Robert and I will be empty nesters. Robert prepared a slide show DVD for Shaya of her first 8 years (he's done that for all of the kids) while I am working on a baby book of Shaya's first 8 years (I've also done that for all my kids, but this one will be given to her late). It was fun to reminisce over the early years and to see how cute and adorable our kids were as babies, toddlers, and preschoolers.

It makes me a little sad, but on the other hand, I really do enjoy having older kids. I've never really been a 'baby person' (although I've adored my own babies!). Life is so much easier with kids that are independent enough to fix their own meals, clean their own rooms (not that they actually do), and get themselves ready for church or school in the morning. But even more than that, I love spending time with my kids, especially now that they're old enough to have 'real' conversations. I like reading books with them, because the books they choose these days are ones that are actually enjoyable to me, too (I do like pictures books, as well, but I hope you know what I'm getting at). I really do love all of my kids and I love the stage of life they're all in right now. Hopefully, I can remember to always enjoy the little things and not stress too much over the annoyances and occasional bratty times.

Anyway, I'm proud of Shaya for making the decision to get baptized. She's a very good person and I love her very much!

Thy Will Be Done

On Wednesday of last week I started spotting, so on Thursday morning, I called the midwife center (where I went when I was pregnant with Shaya) for the first time this pregnancy. They were able to get me in for a 1:00 appointment. Based on the first day of my last period, I was 10 1/2 weeks along, but the midwife was unable to hear a heartbeat using the little handheld tool thing. That, and the fact that I was spotting, was reason enough to send me to the hospital for an ultrasound and some other testing. By the time the ultrasound and tests were finished, the midwife office was closed, but one of the other midwives came to talk to me anyway. She said that the size of the gestational sac was 7 weeks, and although they couldn't detect a heartbeat in the ultrasound, that it might just be too early yet.

As requested, I went back to the hospital on Friday to discuss the ultrasound and bloodwork with my midwife. She talked to me about the ultrasound again and said that it looked to her like a blighted ovum, which means that a baby never formed, usually due to chromosomal abnormalities (more information, if you're interested: http://www.americanpregnancy.org/pregnancycomplications/blightedovum.html). She was pretty sure I was going to have a miscarriage, but that if my 'spotting' slowed down or stopped, I should come back in the following week for another ultrasound. She was trying to be positive, but I could tell she didn't think that I'd be coming back in next week.

I woke up at 4:00am on Saturday with an actual labor pain. If I had been full term, this would have been the kind of pain that I woke Robert up for, saying, "it's time!" But, I knew what was happening...  The bleeding intensified and I spent the next several hours changing pads or sitting on the toilet, with intense labor pains happening regularly. When I first woke up, they were about 10 or 15 minutes apart, but by the time Robert woke up at 10:30, they were much closer together and the bleeding had continued unabated, and had included several large clots of tissue.

Robert called the midwives, but being a Saturday, the only one available was on call to deliver. She took 20 minutes to call back, and after Robert described the symptoms, she told him to get me to the emergency room immediately. So, we went... Labor pains were still pretty intense and close together in the car, but by that time I had finally taken a couple of extra strength Tylenol so the edge was taken from the pain a bit.

After a couple of hours of being there, the physician, after getting the results of my blood test, told me that my red blood cell count was low, but not dangerous, so that if I wanted to try letting the miscarriage happen on it's own (rather than having a D&C), I could. By that time my bleeding and pain and lessened considerably, so he decided not to do a blood transfusion (phew!). I was told to take it easy over the next few days and that if the bleeding did not slow way down or if I had any other symptoms (dizziness, nauseousness, or just a feeling that something might be wrong) that I was to come back. I agreed, and we got home at about 5 or 6 that night.

I was sore and very tired for the next couple of days, but otherwise, physically fine. The emotional parts were harder, but through prayer and discussions with Robert and my mom, I was comforted in knowing that this is all part of God's plan for me. I'm not sure why I had to get pregnant in the first place if a baby never formed, but I don't need to know the why's. Heavenly Father loves me and there was a reason for my miscarriage, whether I know what that reason is or not.

My mom had a miscarriage when I was around 12, and it's something I've thought about on and off over the years. Things like, "If the baby had lived, she would be 9 now" or whatever. I have no doubt that I'll have those kinds of thoughts this time around, as well. My due date would have been September 23rd, a week or so before Braelen's birthday. I'm sure that will be a bit of an emotional time for me, and I'm sure there will be other times, as well. But for now, I am doing better than I was earlier this week.