A Mind Changer

When Gunner was diagnosed with CAS (childhood speech apraxia.) I always feared that I would never be able to understand what it was that he was saying. I thought that I might never get to have those one on one conversations with him. Or if I did it would be a lot of me pretending to understand just what it was that he was saying.  You know when you just acknowledge them by saying “Oh yes” or “and then what happened?” That you do with babies as they blabber to you.

But watching him discover his voice has been quite amazing. Slowly we’ve been able to grasp most of what he has been saying without having to have him repeat it over and over or play charades until we discover what it was that he was talking about.

Going through this journey with him as made me change my own view of how I see the world. Just simple words like duck or frog, thank you (he says it mayboo. It’s one of my favorites.) and the words I love you as being difficult for him to say but he never gives up. Even when we ask him to repeat himself over and over. He always tries hard to get his point of view across.

Lately, whenever he thinks something is cool or when he likes something he will say. Ooooo I love.... But the way he says it, with such conviction, just melts your heart.

I will be on day 3 of wearing my PJs with my hair undid and smelling a little rank but he’ll come up to me and say “oooo mom, I love your shirt.” then touch it and smile with his side smile and walk away. He’ll have a handful of toys and tell each toy that he loves it.  He will squeeze Annie’s feet and say “oooo I love your feet, Annie.”

When we are all talking in a group as family and we mention something we did over the weekend he will without a doubt tell us just how much he loves it. Even if we know the truth of how much he did not enjoy it.

I started to stop and see the world just like he does, and instead of saying that something was cool or that I enjoyed such and such or even when I didn't like something I replaced it with Oooo I love…. And it has been a mind changer.

Paperclip Earrings

 

I was a very dramatic or should I say a “creative child” growing up. My mom always tells the story of how I would rip my pants off when I was a toddler and color all over my diaper no matter how many times she redressed me or hid the markers, I always seem to find them. She said that I just always knew that my toddler life would be much better if I had a colorful diaper on.

As I was growing up, I always seem to make sure that I was different from everyone else. If they wore a ponytail at school I would wear 3 or 4 in my hair to make sure I’d stand out. If they wore earrings, I wore paperclips in my ears instead. If they dyed their hair blonde I dyed my bright red. If they cut their hair short, I cut mine into a mohawk. When my friend got contacts I made sure that when I finally got contacts that they would be bright purple just to make sure it I would stand out.

One time, I went to the hardware store and picked up the biggest gallon of the brightest red paint available. And without asking I painted my bedroom walls with it. Then I threw a red room party and it was the greatest moment of my teenage years.

But one of the biggest incidents I had as a teenager and that I thought for sure I would be in the biggest trouble for was when I took my mom's van out on a night drive with my friends. We had the bright idea to fill buckets up with water balloons then we proceeded to go out onto the “vard” and throw them at incoming cars. This lead to other cars chasing us, swearing at us and then, of course, the cops being called on us.

The cops lectured us about why it is important to not throw things at other moving vehicles all the while I was rolling my purple eyes with my bright red hair thinking… please, these guys don’t know how to have fun. The mom in me now would have flipped the F out.

They, of course, called our parents, making my friends parents come get them and then followed me home so they didn't have to tow my mom's van back to our house. I, of course, thought that I would be in the deepest shit ever when I got home. But instead, my mom and dad thank the officers, closed the door and proceeded to walk back to their room and go to sleep.

I, of course, was in a sheer panic. Am I grounded? Will I ever see my friends again? I went to bed that morning not knowing if I’d wake up or if they would kill me in my sleep.

I woke up the next day like nothing ever happened. It was one of those moments that made me realize just how important my relationship with my parents was and I did more to not disappoint them.

As being a mom now, I look back at all these and more stupid things I did and I thank my mom for putting up with me. She never once yelled that I painted my room instead she made pizza for the red room party and delivered it to us. She complemented me on my paper clip earrings and encouraged me to get the purple contacts as they would stand out more.

She had my dad buy more hair ties so that I could have as many ponytails in my hair that I wanted and she never told me that I was weird or that I shouldn't dress a certain way. She allowed me to go through each phase I had and she laughs with me now about at how silly each of those things was. I am a better mom now because she and my dad took the time to pick their battles and that they did everything to encourage me to continue to be artistic and creative and so damn dramatic.

Now, can I say that I would not hesitate to kill Wyatt if he ever had the cops bring him home? Probably not, but if he paints his room red and has the best red room party I sure as hell will buy him the biggest pizza and hand deliver that sucker because I know just how fun red room parties are.

Give me some purpose

It was dark and cold in my house as I watched the ball start to drop as the year 2017 rolled in. I held Annie close to me to keep my warmth as she was rocked softly to sleep in my arms. The husband was videotaping the older kids throwing streamers down the stairs counting down from 10.

10, 9, 8…

I looked away from them as I held onto to Annie, tight as the new year came rushing in and I quietly whispered to the universe “give me some purpose, I just need some purpose this year.”  

7, 6, 5…

I could see myself so clearly that night. I was so entangled in the life my kids and husband that I didn't know where I started and they ended. I didn't want to be just their mom or just a his wife anymore. I was made to be so much more.

4, 3, 2…

Just as the ball dropped I pleaded my case again “Please.” I said. “Please, give me purpose.”

I closed my eyes tightly when I sent those words into the universe. Afraid that if I opened them too soon that my word, my meaning would slip passed its destination and I would be left in the same spot unable to move forward and I couldn't chance it.

This year needed to be different. It had to be. My life was meant more than me sitting on the couch watching tv or doing the billionth load of laundry.

It was time for me to find my purpose.

The night passed and we slept. Me, drifting off without another thought about my plea. The next day came, and then the next. The mundane life I lived was still there. I worked, did dishes, bathe the kids, fought and made up with the husband, slept, ate, watched TV and then started it all over again.

Then something happened, after a few weeks my desire to do nothing, changed into a desire to do something. I turned off the TV, started to sew, really sew unafraid. I started reading again and listen to podcasts of inspiring woman. I started to love my curves, embracing my sexuality which led to more sex with the husband.

I became happy, thoughtful and loving. We started to enjoy adventures together. We bought a tandem bike and then we rode it.

I started a handmade doll shop, then a community meet up where we give back to those less fortunate. I met new friends. It was going great, I felt amazing.

But then somehow the guilt crept in. I wasn't allowed to be selfish, I couldn’t be a good wife or mother if I was taking my free time and using it on myself. It was just not possible. So, I stopped sewing, meeting up with new friends and starting to resent my kids.I again started to notice how fat I was again which led me to stop having sex with my husband. We put the tandem bike in the garage.

Then my puppy died unexpectedly and I watched him fight to the bitter end as they put him to sleep and I felt guilty again. I wasn’t there enough for him. I didn’t take him on enough walks. If only I didn’t buy that stupid sharp plastic hummingbird for my garden he wouldn’t have ate it and then died.   

My purpose was dying slowly and I was letting it. I was okay with going back to what it was. Because it was so god damn comfortable but the universe wouldn't let me.

It kept giving me more “free time” My doll shop kept thriving even though I didn't post anything on there for awhile, I got another day off from work and my mother in law took the kids anyway. I started to sew again. My husband some how managed to get more days off work too and we started dating again. My kids stopped watching TV and started to read and play outside more.

I went to a random bookclub I found online in a facebook community and immediately connected with the woman there. I am now hosting a potluck and literally invited strangers from the internet to my house and I am completely comfortable with it.

My purpose is still breathing and its amazing.

You are safe, I am here.

As my husband walked in after a long day of work. I saw his face, his body stiff like it gets when he is too over stimulated. The stress starts to buckle up and snap all his limbs into one stiff position. That the only way for him to loosen them is too collapse on the floor in the fetal position.

I’ve been here with him like this, more times than I can count. Before, I would beg to find the answer. Why? I always asked him. Why? What's wrong, what happened? Then I’d get mad and scream, Snap out it! Everything is fine! Pull yourself together.

Now, it's different. I might not understand why or even have an answer to why it happens but now, now I get it that he can’t control it. Its funny to me that, it took me having a son with autism the same issues undiagnosed I’ve dealt with from my husband to realized that of course Cody as autism too.

As he walked in the house, the dogs, kids rushed up and screamed, laughed and wanted to celebrate his arrival but they were meet with hostility. He stiffened and held his hands to his ears.That was my first sign, I quickly jumped up and shuttled them all away knowing that this was indeed a “red” moment. We learned with going to therapy for Gunner’s autism that to help him understand where he's at emotionally we use a scale. Yellow for “just fine” Green for “starting to go” Red for “Extreme uncontrollable emotions.”

I now use this with Cody. It helps me to understand where he is at and it helps him to have something to focus on and know that he might not be in control now, but he could be.

As I shuttled the kids away and put the dogs outside. I told Wyatt the oldest. “Dad’s at a red. I need you to distracted the littles.” He jumps up just like I did. (I wish that I wouldn't have to have him help me when we get into these moments but I believe strongly that it helps him understand his brother more as well as his dad.) Wyatt rounds up the littles and heads to the other room distracting them with play. I walk into my bedroom to see him already naked on the floor, rocking back and forth. I worry that I am too late.

I sit down next to him. Quite. I wrapped my arms tightly around his stiff naked body and breath. Careful, to not breathe to fast or too slow. I let him rock me as he rocks himself and I repeat slowly, “You are safe. I got you.” “You’re in a safe place. I’m not letting you go.” Over and over I say these words. Trying so hard to keep my emotions out of it. I swallow my tears and push my fears away because this is not the time for them.

Minutes pass as we rock back and forth on the floor. Sometimes he’d hit himself in the face and I’d have to hold on tighter and say louder “You are safe, you are safe. I am here…” over and over. I grabbed his thick blanket I made him and throw it over his now cold naked body. Pressing my body up against his so he could feel that I was there with him.

The rocking finally starts to slow. I can hear the kids running around destroying the house and I can imagine the pleas Wyatt is thinking as he is the one in charge. But I can’t let that stop me from being here with Cody. I use too. I use to leave Cody alone, frighten. Unable to control himself. I can’t do that anymore.

Abruptly, he stops. Throws the blanket off him and heads into our master bath and gets into the shower. I leave without saying anything, shut the door behind me. Wyatt and I scramble to pick up the house that the littles destroyed in the last half hour because we know that anything right now could put him back into a red again and we don’t want that to happen.

He finishes his shower, heads out in the living room, picks up the littles, throws them in the air. Just as he would, if it was not a red day. Together, we put the kids into the bath, and put them in their jammies. He tucks them in, like any other night. I don’t mention his episode. If this was a few years ago I would have. I would have demanded to know the Why and not let it go until I had some reason for it. But tonight, as I see him tucking in the kids and as he kisses Gunner our autistic son goodnight. Gunner squirms away from his touch.

We look at each other with the understand that although tonight was a red night we actually both were able to let it go. I sigh, kiss him, he squirms just like Gunner and I think, well that went well.

(Cody and Gunner taking his motocylce out of our garage for the spring.)

Its been a minute

Hey.

It’s been a minute. Or months, almost a year that this space has sat, waiting for me to come and fill it with all the joy, sorrow and everything in between that we’ve experienced. But instead it just sits and collects dust. It’s not that I don’t want to fill its screen with all the thoughts and pain and joy that we’ve lived it just gets forgotten.

The same goes for my camera. It sits dusty on a forgotten shelve next to book I one day will read. All the while our lives keep moving with no stop in sight.

Andalyn or Annie as we call her, is now one. She is a feisty little thing. She has a demanding voice that carries. She can hold a room’s attention with just one look into her eyes and she knows it. She is powerful, intense sweet and so damn smart.

Gunner, is three. Officially diagnosed with Autism, sensory processing disorder and Speech Apraxia. But regardless of those titles he is one smart kid, the light in the room. He is so damn funny that you cannot help but smile when you are around him. He can move like a real life gorilla. Knuckles to the floor and all. It’s amazing! That if he ever does stop, I will be very sad to see the gorilla go.

He is starting to speak a whole lot better and now just doesn’t shut up. He can now be without headphones in loud settings. Which is amazing. We still struggle with understanding how to handle his Autism but I think we are way further ahead than we use to be. So that in its self is an accomplishment.

Wyatt, is eight now. He is so creative. He will spend hours on end creating something out of nothing. I find more paper drawn on, more things cut up and more dried out glue sticks in his room then I’d like to admit. He taught himself how to finger knit yesterday. He weaves like a pro and is just such an artist.

He is crazy smart too. Reading on a fourth grade level and high level in math. He loves to be in the known. Including with what is going on in the world. He takes everything to heart and we’ve learned that he has bad anxiety. So we are working on that with him. But he is just the sweetest, quietest boy I know. We call him quiet Wyatt because he doesn’t speak louder than a whisper.

Cody and I, well, we are still hanging in there. Cody, we’ve discovered also has autism like Gunner. So that has been helpful for me. It’s not really help Cody to know that quite yet he still struggles. But I am learning to me more open minded on things that I always questioned. Which has helped out relationship a bit. We still struggle though. But we struggle deep in love with each other.

It makes me hopeful to how Gunner will be in life. That he too, will be able to find someone to love and have a family if he so wishes.

Me, I love my job and the students I teach. I would say, that I no longer stress like I use too about work. I have more time to focus my energy on myself more than I ever did before. Because of this I have discovered a new love which is sewing, dolls to be exact. And actually I am going to be launching my first ever Esty shop in the next couple of weeks. Which is exciting and scary.

I hope to come back to this space more because everytime I do, I thoroughly enjoy myself.

It was bad. Bath worthy bad.

Last night took forever for it to change into morning. Cody and I found ourselves waking up every hour last night and both being surprised that it has yet to move on to another hour. But before we get into that let me back up here for a moment so that you can see why the night needed to quickly move on.

 We spent the evening at a restaurant with the kids. We ate the delicious food, tasting what each one order, talked quietly about nothing and just plain adore each other’s company.

We then drove to target, tossed the kids into the shopping cart, threw in the cart some amazing light up bouncing balls that we just had to have, found in dollar bin area all the while shopping for our upcoming family vacation to Zions.

We get home, to only discovered that Annie had the biggest poop blow out that you ever did see. It was everywhere, all over her flower leggings, all over her car seat, dripping down her legs when I picked her up.

It was bad. Bath worthy bad.

Of course we get home right at bedtime. So we all are rushing to brush teeth, getting Wyatt’s backpack ready for school the next day, put jammies on, find blankets, teddy bears and getting the millionth drink of water before daddy flies the boys like airplanes to bed for the night.

I of course am still dealing with the bath worthy poop of Annie’s. I finally get her cleaned, dressed and I throw her dirty clothes on top of the washer telling myself that I will put them in when I am done. (Which I still have yet to do.) By this time, she is so tired mad that she won’t even latch on to feed. She’s screaming her lungs out and I can’t get her settled.

At this point Cody and I have to take turns bouncing her. An hour later, she finally settles. Now at the same time she’s fussy Bella the dog is whining because earlier in the day she thought it would be a fantastic idea to eat my shoe laces. Now her tummy hurts.

So we are letting her in and out and then in and then out. We are hoping, crossing our fingers that the boys don’t wake up with all this commotion.

It turns midnight, finally. Bella is still outside, Annie is finally asleep and it’s our bedtime. I softly lay Annie in her basinet as Cody let’s Bella back in. We finally lay down and are quickly asleep.

Annie wakes up which is unlike her to feed. I look at the clock its only 1am. I feed her and fall back asleep. Then Bella starts to whine again, Cody gets up and takes her out. Its only 1:15am. We fall back asleep. Bella whines to come in, we wake up, I put Annie in her basinet and Cody lets Bella back in. Its 1:30am. We say to each other how is it is still 1 in the morning? We fall back asleep.

Bella whines wakes Annie. We decide to leave Bella outside for a few hours (we set an alarm.) I get Annie and feed her again. It’s now 2am. We fall back asleep.

3am rolls around, I get a tap tap tap on my knee. I wake up its Wyatt he has had a bad dream and I realize that I am somehow still feed Annie.He climbs into our bed. We fall asleep again.

The alarm goes off to let Bella back in. It’s now 4am. Cody goes and gets her, I wake Wyatt and tell him that Dad will tuck him back into his bed. I still am somehow nursing Annie.

Wyatt gets out of our bed goes with Cody. I unattached Annie from my breast and put her back into her bed. Its 4:30am.

Cody comes back to bed, Bella too. We fall asleep again. It’s now 5am.

6am rolls around, Annie cries to feed again which is unlike her. I get up, get her again somehow and nurse her while I fall back to sleep.

My alarm goes off its 7am. Time to officially wake up. I hand Annie who’s still asleep to Cody to have him hold her in our bed, get up and make breakfast, tired.

Sometimes, parenthood is full of nights that move too slowly only to leave you feeling unrested but I know that one day I will miss the middle of the nights nursing a little baby. And the times, that the only way my kids will feel better after a bad dream is to come cuddle with me in my bed. So I’ll take these long tired nights over any well-rested night, every time.

And they called her Shamrock

I never use to be a dog person. We had a ton of different dogs when I was growing up and they always bugged me. So needy, always at your feet. You had to walk them and feed them all the time. They were never not hungry. They’d sleep on your pillows and chew up your stuff.  I never use to be a dog person, until I saw a picture of Isabella online.

There she was. A Red Healer So small with cute red freckles all over her white fur and that curly tail. I was in love. She was rescued off the side of the road in Arizona as a puppy and brought to a no kill shelter there. I stumble over her picture random on the interwebs and emailed the shelter about her without telling my husband.

I didn’t tell him because we already took a little rat (Chihuahua shih tzu mix) dog from my sister who barked all the time. He really did not make me become a dog person but there was just something about this little puppy staring back at me from the screen. I just felt like she was supposed to be in my family.

I received an email back from the shelter stating that she was available and that they had someone who was willing to drive from Arizona to Salt Lake City to bring her to us.

I don’t know how I convinced my husband that we needed her but I did. We drove to Salt Lake the following week to meet the people who brought her to us. And they called her Shamrock. I guess because in part she was lucky to be found on the side of road as a tiny puppy and was nursed back to health.

We drove her home that night and laughed as she chased the cats and ran through our whole house excited to be in her forever home. Then we named her Isabella. Or Belly button as I like to call her.

Years later, she’s still excited to be with us. She is still needy, always at my feet. I take her on walks all the time and feed her all the time. She’s never not hungry, always sneaks food off the table. Sleep on my pillows and chews up our stuff. But she made me a dog person. Because she is my dog.

So If I was reborn as a dog it would be her. She is strong, funny, caring and protects my kids like they are her own. So cuddly and has never ending love for me and my family.

And even though I had that dog bite me on Easter, I still love dogs because of my Bella.

Yesterday I forgot.

Yesterday I forgot to do the dishes, run and tidy up the house according to the productive app on my phone. But what I didn’t forget to do was be fully there with my oldest.  

After Gunner’s behavioral therapist appointment, Gunner gathered all his trucks and buses, made a parking lot on the couch and played quietly, Annie nursed and Wyatt and I talked.

Wyatt, he tends to get lost in the shuffle of the younger kids who demand more attention from Cody and I. We haven’t really been able to have a real solid conversation with each other for a really long time and few weeks ago I thought about how honestly I could not remember when we ever did. That really bothered me. So I have been more diligent about making sure to have a real one on one time set aside just for him.

I invited him to join me and my sister in our 52 week hiking challenge. Where each week we take to the mountains and hike our butts off.  Which at first he didn’t want to do but after the first hike he was hooked.

The funny about hiking is that no matter what, you have to have conversations. There is no way around it. I have learned more about him and my sister in the last three weeks than ever before.

I also see how strong he is. Sometimes while my sister and I are talking, he’ll run up ahead of us and have us time him to see how long it’ll take him to run up to a tree. I can say that I can’t do that quite yet. But I do plan on it. (He’s challenged me.)

What I have learned through hiking with him, is that he is goal orientated and way driven. He likes to be challenged. To have a goal that may not be very accessible to others but to him it is.

The other day when I was marking off tasks on my productive app he leaned over and stated that he wanted that app on his iPad because he liked that it showed how many days in a row you accomplish something and that is what he needs in his life.

So yesterday as Gunner played parking lot we loaded a task app called Swipe (since the “productive” one I used isn’t available on the iPad) entered in all the tasks that he wanted to accomplish in a day and he beamed. This is what he needed.

He put things on his list like feed the dog, read 20 mins each night, then he put things on there that I didn’t think he really cared about. Like cook dinner with mom. That surprised me.

He run around the house seeing how many tasks he could complete. Practice karate. Check. Make your bed. Check.

Then we spent the mid evening in the kitchen cooking, laughing, talking with each other that spread out into the evening that when the dishes were left in the sink and the run I needed to do so badly beeped up on my phone for me to accomplish I didn’t hesitate to skip the task.

Because I was doing that one thing that shouldn’t have been on my list of things to accomplish, spending time with my oldest.

Update: I found an even better app for him. It is called Monster Chore. It gives him rewards points for each chore that he completes and then he can use those rewards to purchase things from his dad and I. Like a trip to a museum. Plus it will beep on my phone when he actually said he did the chores so I can approve that it was done or not. I really like it

Definitely not a vacation

It was funny, the other day Cody and I were having one of those parenting days that just are so hard. Every whine, every look, every poopy diaper had us on edge. And when both of us are in the overwhelmed state we simply cannot function.

So I said in a huff “Ugh, we seriously need a vacation.” To which he replied “You will be getting one in a month” hinting to the fact that school will be out soon and my job ends until the next school year starts.

I corrected him because I actually have 2 months left and I also stated that it won’t be a vacation. It will be more work for me. I will be the only one 100% of the time responsible for all of our kids all day, all night, no breaks, it will be me. That’s it.

He just laughs and blows it off and said something to the point of how work is stressful and I said “well work for me is my break. It is not stressful it’s the chance for me to get a mom break.”

I knew he did get it though.

He doesn’t understand the demand that mothers have. He doesn’t understand that you literally have no space. That no matter what room you are in the kids will follow you there. Talking, crying, screaming, wanting always wanting.

That you’ve picked up the house way to many times that by the time the end of the day comes, you could give a flying fuck how your house looks.

He didn’t get that until I came home from work yesterday.

Now I only work 5 hours a day but when I got home I could see it in his eyes. That same look of defeat I get some days.

He was rocking Annie who seemed to not want to settle. I could hear Gunner crying through the monitor because he wanted nothing to do with a nap and Wyatt was in the other room playing video games.

And that’s when he told me. Wyatt and Gunner kept coming into every room I was in. I was trying to get Annie to sleep and right when I would, they would come running in here and start wrestling. And no matter how many times I tell them to stop and go play somewhere else they wouldn’t listen.

So she hasn’t slept all day.

Then I said “see, it’s no vacation huh?” as I snatch up Annie, who settled quickly. Walked out of the room so he could take it all in. Marinate in it.

The fact that parenthood is hard most days and most definitely not a vacation.

Alone with the baby

I was not allowed by any means to wallow in my misery after the dog bite incident. I get home after my 5 hour stay in the ER. I just received 10 stitches altogether in my arm and I chose to have no pain meds while I was in the hospital. Because one, I hate how they make me feel. Two, I could not really feel my arm/fingers anyway.

I get home, and there was my husband frazzled. Rocking the baby trying to settle her down. His mom there watching, who just got the older kids down to sleep finally. After a while she leaves and it is now him and I alone with the baby.

She’s hungry and waiting nothing more than to nurse after hours of being away from me. And he is so far beyond his stress level that he was nonfunctioning. I in a huff told him to just go to bed and hand me the crying baby.

That’s when I realized I was on my own.

There would not be anyone else that could be the mom in this family. No one else that could nurse Annie. No one else to calm down my husband. No one else to comfort the boys back to sleep the way I do. No one else that knows their special lullabies to help them feel better.

I was it.

So painfully and alone I figured out a way to hold Andalyn on my breast and pinch my nipple the certain way she likes with my nonworking fingers so she’d actually eat.

I rocked and cried, rocked and cried some more because I didn’t ask for this. I never wanted this.

An hour later, Gunner wandered down stairs crying and I call threw my tears still rocking and nursing Annie for my husband who rushes out into the living room in his half slept mind to snatch him up.

He wakes a little more to see me crying and asks what’s wrong. All I can think is I just got bit by a dog asshole and I am still up with the baby what do you think is wrong?

Instead I mumble through my tears, I just hurt.

He goes to the medicine cabinet and gets an ibuprofen and pops it into my mouth and gives me a drink of water.  

Picks up Gunner again who's still crying and starts to rock him.

I look over at him in his rocking chair and I in mine as we cuddle the kids and I knew at that moment that I am not really alone in this because he is a dad too.

The only dad this family has. 

Easter Disaster

I am currently sitting at my desk at work. I haven’t really been able to get a lot of work done today or even this week because every few minutes one of the students or teachers stops and asks what happened to my arm. Just so you don’t have to ask the same question let me tell you while I am at it.

It was Easter like any other Easter. (Cue in the dramatic music) The bunny came, we ate candy for breakfast, dyed Easter eggs for lunch and even made side dishes to go with Easter dinner at my parents’ house.  The whole time we are doing these things Wyatt cannot stop talking about how he was going to get the golden egg this year. He is so serious about it that he even writes it in his journal.

We get to my parents have dinner and then it was time. Time for the Easter egg hunt. The men hide the eggs in my parent’s backyard making sure to hide the prize GOLDEN EGG in just the right spot as all the kids waited patiently in the playroom.

Once all the eggs were hidden we open the back door and the kids rush outside to find the eggs.

Now my parents have a good size yard sitting up a top of a hill connecting onto their backyard neighbor’s yard who’s below only separated by a fence and my parent’s wood pile. 

Now these neighbors always have had dogs who’s been a little aggressive so we’ve just come accustom to it.

I was with Gunner finding eggs and taking pictures of him, Andalyn was with Cody closer to my parents’ house and Wyatt was running in all directions to find the Prize Golden Egg.

He runs over to me 5 minutes into the hunt, and rushes to tell me that he knows that the golden egg is in the wood pile and asks me to go over there with him to find it. Of course I go, I mean it is the Golden egg after all!

I walk over there with him as Gunner follows me behind.

Wyatt is in front of me closer to my parent’s side digging in the pile. I am behind him semi turned to the back fence line. I am holding my camera and raise it to take a picture of Wyatt.

Just as I do, I see in the corner of my eye a big brown dog charge up the hill. Now, this is “normal” behavior that these dogs do so I don’t think anything of it.

I continue to raise my arm to take a picture and then all of a sudden, the next thing I know the dog grabbed my arm and bit hard down on it tugging and pulling me, trying to pull me over the fence.

I just remember looking down at my arm and being so pissed that this dog has bit me. I didn’t feel the bite, I just clearly remember saying in my head, “What the fuck, this dog has bit me.”

I could feel him pulling my arm trying to get me over the fence and I said again in my head again Fuck you dog, you will not pull me over.

I somehow, get my body to bend down and turn it to give me the momentum to rip my arm from the dog’s mouth, and I run away.

Again, I am still do not feel pain. My mind is telling me clearly that I need to run, hold up your arm, wave it around, you are screaming, they will hear you. I only see a top punctured wound on my arm at this time.

According to my mom, I run right to her and show her my arm. She asks me what happened and that is when I say, “The dog, the dog bit me.” And then I drop to the ground.

She’s screaming at my dad who’s a Director of Nursing. My two sisters run over who are surgical technicians. They are screaming commands out, get a towel, and do this, that, hold here, call 911.

I just remember yelling out to my husband “there is breast milk in the freezer there is breast milk in the freezer.”

The next thing I know I am floating out of the backyard with my sister holding and pressing down a towel on my arm to stop the bleeding. I clearing remember looking at my husband who is holding my 1 month old and telling him sternly to get the kids and that there is break milk in the freezer.

I am pushed into my sister’s car and we rush off to the hospital. My dad is in the car my two sisters and Mike my other sister’s husband is following us in another car.

My sisters and dad are on speaker phone to my other siblings and I am in the back seat of the car with my sister holding hard onto my arm.They are telling my siblings where we are going and what to do next and I just remember screaming out (at this point I am in and out of shock) Wyatt better get a damn golden egg!

                                             (be prepared to see graphic pictures below)

And then my mind starts to inform me, that I cannot feel my arm. Nothing, I cannot move my fingers, my hand and I freak out. And I start to scream even more and yell I can’t feel my arm I can’t feel my arm

We finally get to the ER and it’s like in the movies. We zoom up to the front and they throw me out and my sisters run me inside while my dad parks the car.

We get inside and I am screaming and bleeding and screaming and yelling about how I get bit by a dog.

They run up to us and look at my arm. Now remember I’ve only seen a top punctured wound on my arm at this point.

They remove the towel and turn my arm over and I see it. A big, a huge bite hole in my arm. And I freak out.

My sister Alisha grabs my head and has me look at her and she repeats. You are fine Audrey, you are fine. Over and over.

They take me into a triage room (I am still screaming) and when I get into the room the doctor or whoever yells at me to stop crying and I am pissed that he yelled that at me and clearly think I cannot physically stop crying. I cannot make my body stop.

He starts to touch my fingers and asks if I can feel them and I cry even hard because I say no. I have never been so scared then at that moment in my life.

He tries the other fingers. He pinches them and I still can’t.

He moves me out of the triage room and puts me in the waiting room and we wait for hours to be seen by a doctor (not even kidding, lesson learned we will always call an ambulance so we can get straight into a doctor.)

Finally I see a doctor they clean it out, stitch it up and I go home 5 hours later still unable to move my fingers or feel my arm.

The next morning Wyatt woke me up, worried and feeling like this was all his fault and I looked at him straight in the face and said "Wyatt, in life you have to get an epic scar at least once. And this one is mine and not yours. I will wear it proud and loud because I now know, that I can stand my ground and not let anything ever pull me in a direction that I do not want to go."

And I truly believe that. I could choose to let this get me down, I could keep freaking out about not being able to move my fingers or I can get up, work hard (type this one handed) and know that I will do anything and everything to not let this accident be more than just that. Because I am a strong women who refused to let that dog pull me over.

*Come next week to read about the ridiculous animal control officers, what happened to the dog and why we had to get a lawyer.*

The end of the night

The house grew quite pretty quick as all the boys were tucked in bed and sung their last song for the night. I handed off the baby to dad and stood at the kitchen sink.

I have never been the one that liked doing the dishes or even really cared for picking up the house at the end of the night. But somehow after having Andalyn I turned into a mom that couldn’t wait to accomplish all those mundane tasks.

Here I was listening to my 2 year old snore through the monitor I had placed on the counter and felt the heat hit my hands as I started to grab the dishes to clean off the food. That somehow was prepared that evening even though I had a clingy baby attached to my hip.

How’d we get here?

How was it possible that I was my mom in this moment? I don’t remember becoming her but I slowly did. Here I was in a kitchen like hers in a quite house with my kids asleep after a long day doing what she’s done.

I thought about that each time my hands hit the water. I scrubbed another dish, placed it into the dishwasher and paused just for a moment to hear my baby whimper but quickly calm in her daddy arms.

Did he think the same thing as me? Did he wonder how he became his dad so quickly and naturally?

I finished the dishes and found myself picking up toy cars and bouncy balls and helping them find their way back into their toy bins. When I finally sat down the baby fussed and was tossed back into my arms where I nursed rocked her back to sleep.

I sat there silent next to Cody who was watching basketball and thought about all the things that will need to be done the next day. But this time it was different, I wasn’t mad that I wouldn’t be getting all well-deserved me time that before I would crave. Instead I was happy at the thought of it all.

I couldn’t wait to tackle the library with all the kids in tow and was excited at the thought of them running down the dirt road as we’d take the dog on a walk. I even felt good about folding the laundry again.

These tasks although I have done them every week for a good 12 years felt new because I was doing them now, like how I remember my mom doing them.

I pictured my young kids looking at me as I gracefully pick up this toy here, throw a load of laundry in there. Laugh with me like I did when I was young with my mom as we have a dance party in the kitchen while dinner was cooking.

I accomplished a lot this week. My house has been cleaner than ever before. I even scrubbed the toilets.

The dog and kids have been out of the house more than once, I cooked food, real food. I uploaded all my pictures off my camera card and even got some ready to print. I got all the errands done and paid bills and I have a DVR filled with shows yet to be watched.

These tasks are my tasks now that I will only get for so long before they will become my kids tasks and their kids tasks.

There is comfort in that.

Knowing that we start off life in such a small little way and end it bigger and more important regardless if it just putting the last of the dishes in the dishwasher at the end of the night like your mom did before you.

In Pictures: Andalyn’s first bath

and then she came

Everything went wrong when you surprise us that you were coming.

My pregnancy was not at all easy like it was with your brothers. I was sick a lot, food was not something I wanted to eat (unless it was roast beef sandwiches from Arbys.) I broke out in rashes that covered me from head to toe, my liver started shutting down and my doctor was a jerk.

We had a scare that something was wrong with your heart so they had us redo your ultra sound. Which we never did find out for sure that it wasn’t because well, my doctor was a jerk. So we took it just as no news is good news.  You would also kick me all the time and had never ending hiccups.

You tried to come early a few times and I had to go to the hospital and stop you from doing so because you were still so tiny and I don’t dilate.

And then the day arrived that we picked out February 1^st, 2016.

Your birthday.

Your dad and I excitedly packed the last few things in our bags that morning, dropped off your brothers to school and grandmas before we drove up to the hospital.

They took us back to our room where the nurses checked you and tried to give me my IV more than once. Which wasn’t that successful. I had to hold my hand a certain way or it wouldn’t drip the meds I needed and they even had to bring in another nurse to get that in.

But we didn’t think about that, we thought about you.

Your dad and I talked calmly about what it will be like to welcome you into the world. We chatted about how it was when we were here years ago getting ready to welcome your brothers.

We talked about how you were going to be our last little one. The last to do all the firsts and for us that felt like how it was supposed to be.

It turned 1pm, the time we were supposed to be moved into the surgery room but our doctor was late. Then when he did arrived he checked on his other patients before getting to us so we waited again. We finally got back to the room a half an hour later where we were greeted by the anesthesiologist.

He was to input my epidural which wasn’t successful and he tried for a good 20 minutes or so stabbing me in my back trying to get it too work. Finally after the moved me around a few times they got it in but I was left with a really bruised back.

Our doctor finally arrived and started the surgery to get you to us.

He started the cut but ran into some scar tissue from your brothers so he had to make the cut longer. And when they finally got to you, you were so far down that you got stuck. So stuck that I had 2 nurses jumping and pushing on my belly to try to remove you.

I could do nothing but laugh.

They finally got you out and we heard nothing.

No cry, nothing.

Your dad exactly walks over to where the nurses were cleaning you but they sent him away so they could get you to breath.

You were in such shock to be out into this world that it took a good few minutes for you to choose to breath.

But you did.

Then you cried.

Hard and loud which made me cry because I was so happy to have you here.

They were finishing removing my tubes but my IV wasn’t administrating the meds so I wasn’t clotting like I was suppose too. I started to get sick and could hear the doctors rushing to figure out what was happening all the while your dad was taking pictures of you and being with you.

After a few minutes they figured out that it was indeed my IV causing the issues and corrected.

They closed me up.

They moved us into our room and I finally got to hold you.

There you were, so tiny with a lot of dark brown hair and light eyes.

I couldn’t help but beamed with joy to finally officially get to met you. You launched on my breast with no issues and we spent the next hours there together with your dad by our side. It was the most amazing moment of my life. To see you, my daughter a girl I’d dreamt about but never knew I would actually get to met.

Anadalyn Joy Christensen

You were born into our family on February 1^st, 2016 at 2:12pm weighing in at 6 pounds 13 ounces 20 inches long.

All though your arrival was a surprise and full of twist you were the most magnificent little girl we have  ever met.

Welcome to our family.