A week

Pictures from the past two weeks:

Super Rose meets Jedi Jay in an epic light sabre battle.

Rose likes me to take pictures of her favorite hair styles. And I like taking pictures of them too.

That face!

Sillies

Jay started soccer last week, and he loves it! There's this league for kids at a local church. It's perfect: 2 days per week for 6 weeks, and then it's over. Just enough.

Jay's first-ever soccer game was this week. It RAINED! That never ever ever happens around here, but it was drizzling and chilly and cloudy for the whole game. I did not get to go (still queasy), but Jeff took some good pictures of the action.

Jeff said Jay had that big grin on his face the whole time he was on the field. That makes me happy. Jay's favorite thing about soccer is when he takes off his shin guards and they leave marks on his legs. He says, "wow, shin guard marks! awesome!"

Rose loves playing with her old school Little People. I love watching her play with them.

My dear Mom came and stayed with us all week this week. It was wonderful. She fed me up, cleaned our house, read stories, and played with Jay and Rose, and filled my heart with that indescribable motherly comfort. We all miss her. Under her watchful care, I really turned a corner with my recovery. I haven't barfed in 4 days, and I only went to the hospital once this week! I am 12.5 weeks along now and things are looking up at last. I had a brief decline early last week, but Mom pulled me out of it and now it's only a matter of time before I get more energy and less nausea and take control of my LIFE again! Ahh, it's so close and yet so far. I'm still weak and mostly confined to my chair and taking 3 medicines, but I only have to take 2 of the 3 pills in the middle of the day! Progress. One centimeter at a time.

Miss Munchkin. Her hair is so whispy and tricky to tame. I was looking at some pictures of other little girls and noticed that they all had their "forelocks" pulled into a small pony tail up front to keep the whisps out of their eyes. It was an epiphany. Why did I never try that before? I immediately began doing Rose's hair with the extra pony tail, and it has been wonderful. 

And last but not least, isn't this Cheerios box the happiest thing? 

Easter

It's Easter Sunday. My favorite way to spend Easter morning is to get up and watch the sunrise. I remember doing that with my Mom once or twice when I was little, and I just love the peaceful anticipation of waiting for the light to stream over the horizon. I did not watch the sunrise this morning. Mornings are a lot less enjoyable for some of us pregnant people. But, after I had gained some amount of control over my nausea and after Jeff, Jay, and Rose left for church, I did something I've never done on Easter before. I listened to Handel's Messiah straight through, from beginning to end, all 2 hours and 40-ish minutes of it. Normally I reserve this listen-through for December, during all that Christmasy-ness. But it totally works for Easter too! I loved it. 

During my sick-weeks, I have had a LOT of time on my hands. To keep myself from going too crazy with too little to do, I have implemented a strict no-multi-tasking policy. One thing at a time: listen to music OR write a blog post. Watch a show OR scroll through Facebook. That kind of thing. I have started watching shows while eating sometimes, only because the show distracts me from whatever I'm trying to swallow. But mostly I do one thing at a time. It's been nice to take time just to listen to music. I have really enjoyed the music-only time. It is so different to sit quiety and simply listen to music, nothing else. I like it. In normal life, of course, I rarely have time to sit around appreciating fine musical compositions, but if there is a good thing about being practically bedridden, it's the music-listening. 

Anyways, I listened to the Messiah on Easter morning and thought it was about perfect. 

Steph found the CUTEST coordinating clothes for the four cousins to wear to church on Easter. Jeff took a few pictures for posterity, and I adore them. 

I mean, it really doesn NOT get any better than this, if you ask me.

Jay told Jeff the Easter story about Jesus today it and made me feel ok about indulging in other non-religious frivolities, ha ha. 

After everyone got home from church, we had family Easter early afternoon dinner at the Whites' house (I WALKED four houses down our street all the way to their house!). It was my first non-hospital/doctor outing in over a month. I even ate some ham and angel food cake. After eating, we moseyed back to our house (again, I slowly walked all the way--4 house-lengths) for a little cousin Easter egg hunt. Jay and Rose helped Jeff fill the eggs with goldfish, animal crackers, jelly beans, M&Ms, and Reese's. We had the hunt in our basement. It was pretty quick and cute. 

Jay and Rose played Easter egg hunt all weekend. They were pretty happy to finally have something inside the eggs besides air during the "real" hunt. Layne enjoyed dumping jellybeans onto the carpet and munching on goldfish. Six minutes later, it was over. 

We dumped all of Rose's eggs into a bowl. Easter mix!

Happy Easter. 

"He is not here: for he is risen" (Matthew 28:6)

"But these are written, that ye might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing ye might have life through his name." (John 20:31)

One bite at a time

My eyes and ears are telling me that it is a glorious spring morning. Clean sunshine is streaming in our kitchen windows, setting the yellow walls aglow. White blossoms are bobbing on the branches outside the window by my chair. Birds are singing and chirping. All of that evidence says "This is a perfect spring day! Enjoy it! Relish the beauty! Breathe in the freshness!" 

a really bad iPad picture of the blossoms outside my chair's window.

And then there's the rest of my body, screaming "MORNINGS ARE THE WORST! I HATE PUKING! GAG! EEEW, DO I HAVE TO EAT THAT?" 

The battle of the senses. In the end I nibble my banana and gaze longingly past the messy kitchen at the blue sky and flowers, not exactly feeling the springy joy, but somehow swallowing another bite. Once again, I've been putting off a blog post because what is there to say? Nothing that sounds exciting to my dull wit and queasy senses. My nausea is ever-present, but restrained by certain choice drugs. I only heave first thing in the morning now, and then I can eventually choke down some cereal and/or a banana to stabilize the churning acids. Still, the awful feeling that "wow, I could puke right NOW if I leaned over" rarely leaves for long. Blah blah blah, we know, Shaina, you're pathetic and sick and you have a creepy purple tube hanging out of your arm which is the reason you're down to only one barf per day. 

So, life over the past week-plus post-hospital stay has been sluggishly slow for me. Spending five hours curtained off in my cubicle at the hospital every single day, seven days a week, is taking its toll on my sanity. I mean, yes, it's better than puking all day long, but then again, most things are better than that! Some days I think there's NO WAY I can do this another day. There were those two dark days that the hospital's usually stellar WiFi signal was down. Talk about mind-numbing! I resorted to low quality fiction since it's the only thing my mind will process in its current condition. Man, I sure feel like Moaning Myrte today, huh? 

What I mean to tell you is how the day goes: I get up, pee and puke, stagger to my chair, slowly consume cereal and banana over an hour or two, slowly gain courage, sometimes make a pathetic phone call to my Mom for advice and emotional support, and then I slowly eat something else. Jeff leaves for work around 6:45am, in the midst of my puking/staggering. Sometime between 9-10am, various sweet ward members come and whisk my children off for a day of play. They usually return around 5pm. At 11am, Jeff leaves Sunnyside High School duringhis planning period, drives the 15 minutes back to Grandview, picks me up, and then drives me to Sunnyside to the hospital, which is conveniently located a few blocks from the high school. 

At the hospital, my tube is hooked up to another tube which is hooked to a big yellow bag full of vitamins and medicines. Ever so slowly, over the next 4 hours, 2 liters of liquid go through the tubes into ME. Add startup and cleanup and wait times to that and you get that lonnng 5 hour stay. When I'm almost done, school has been out for at least an hour, so I call my patient husband and he comes over and picks me up. 

I can hardly fathom all of the support and help that we have received. It's overwhelming! Tuesday, for example: Ashleigh Thornock picked the kids up before 9am. Just after 9am, sweet Sister Marcia Naylor came over and cleaned up our family room and kitchen. When I say cleaned up, I mean she washed dishes, swept, vacuumed, AND MOPPED!!!!!! I sat there and did my best not to think too hard about it all so I could avoid crying while she cheerfully tidied up a 3-week mess. Oh and the night before, she brought me a slab of chocolate cake! And 3 nights a week, Relief Society sisters deliver dinner to our doorstep! Grateful doesn't begin to describe how I feel.

Ok, I have one more subject on my mind. Over the past few weeks, I have been having a calm, peaceful feeling that this is IT: this is our last baby. It's a terrifying and sad and good feeling all at once. This is kind of personal for a blog, but I just have to mention that fact because then you'll understand this better: I am DYING to know which way our family will tip: will this be a boy or a girl? Will Jay have a  brother or will Rose have a sister? Whose clothes will I be able to start giving away instead of saving carefully? And then, the inevitable scary miscarriage thoughts creep in all too often as well. I have had beautifully reassuring priesthood blessings and dozens of prayers, but in spite of all that those icky fears still creep in every now and then. Keep on beating, little heart! 

It has been quite the journey, arriving at this point and this decision. After Rose was born, I was ready for a good long break from bearing and caring for babies. Then I got pregnant by surprise twice in one year and had two miscarriages. I realized that I may not be as in control of the situation as I thought. I also realized that I may not get the four-to-six babies of my dreams. When I started watching Layne, then Spencer, and then Tate too, I realized that I really WANT lots of kids. At the same time, I always wanted to KNOW when the last one was on its way, so I could say farewell to the whole process. Then this pregnancy stormed joyfully across the horizon and I realized that it would be prudent to stop before the babies kill me. The process has been long, and again, this is pretty personal, but I just feel like outlining my thoughts. For the record, Jeff has always said that we'd have as many kids as I wanted, but we pretty much decided after the last horrible pregnancy that if this one was worse, we'd be done. So there they are, my secret, personal heartfelt thoughts scattered across the internet. Treat them with care, friends.

It's so nice to KNOW how many kids I'll have, and to dream about the future, knowing what the ages of the kids will be. It's a little shocking that I'll be "done" way (years!) sooner than I thought I would be, but that will also be kind of exciting in its way.

Morning snuggle time:

Jay: "look, Mommy, I picked this for you."

Home again, home again

After eight days in the hospital, I finally came home on Wednesday (April 2nd). It is so good to be home. I have been thoroughly enjoying the small scenes that I missed out on in my solitary, beeping hosptial room: Jay climbing back onto his tall stool at the kitchen counter 4 times in a row in order to perfect his dismount (frontward jump to the floor). Rose combing her hair with the carrot she's munching. Jay snuggling up with me in my chair with a pile of blankets, and just talking together. Rose's extravagant art projects that span the kitchen floor. Jeff patiently fetching me drinks, snacks, and meals so I don't have to move my tender stomach. Steph and Grama Leslie visiting with little Layne and baby Tate to bring squishy baby cheer to my worn countenance. Layne gives the best hugs I've ever seen from a one year old. Tate still smiles at me. I love my family. All I can do right now is love them from my chair, but I love them so much.

The conditions of my release, aka, my parole from the hospital: I have to return every day for two liters (that's two bags) of fluids: one "banana bag," the yellow one, full of vitamins and spiked with obscene amounts of Zofran and Reglan. And one regular clear bag. It takes 4 hours for those to pump through my PICC line and into my bloodstream. It usually takes about half an hour for them to get everything squared away and hooked up, plus a 15 minute drive to the hospital and the 15 minute drive home. That equals roughly five hours per day spent solely on keeping me alive. It's worth it and obviously better than living at the hospital, but it already feels long. I am still not up to driving myself to the hospital, so I have to get a ride with someone. And then my kids need somewhere to go while I am in getting pumped. Luckily, this week has been the high school's spring break, so Jeff has been home and able to take care of everything like the champ he is, but starting next week, I'm going to be relying even MORE heavily on my dear friends, ward, and family. It's hard being so helpless. 

Another hard thing for me is being ok with my dulled wits and brain function. When I anticipate all the discomforts of pregnancy, I always brace myself for the physical horrors of it all. But somehow I manage to edit out the mental side. My brain feels fuzzy and out of focus. Maybe it's all the drugs, but I think it's also just so-called placenta brain. It's hard because some of my favorite pastimes should be easily doable when I'm confined to an armchair for multiple months: I should be able to read an entire library of books, right? Wrong! I can read, but I don't appreciate a well-written book or any clever wording that inspires thought. The joys of reading are lost on my fuzzybrain. Writing also comes at a huge cost. This poor withered blog is suffering right along with my personal journal. I love having a record even of the bad times, but this one is going to be sparse. 

For family movie night (something I can actually participate in, as long as we do it upstairs instead of in the basement), we watched Frozen. Rose has seen it 3 times already, but this was my first viewing. It actually lived up to the hype--I liked it a lot. Perfect Disney extravegance and splendor. I see why it has thrilled many a young heart. I was nervous after hearing so many people gush over it for so long. And I was determined to hate the stupid snowman because he looked like he was going to be an idiot, but he was my favorite! "Some people are worth melting over." Darling. I loved watching Rose watch the movie. She was so proud to show it to me, and she kept explaining parts to me. She alternately bobbed her head along with the music, clenched her fists in anxiety, and giggled at funny parts. Her excitement was palpable. It made me happy.

Ok, I think that's all I have to say for now. Except that Jeff drove 40 minutes to the nearest Panda Express to bring me orange chicken for dinner tonight. Bless my husband. Here are the few pictures I've taken over the past few weeks:

 

When Jeff is gone, Jay preps breakfast: milk and cereal.

It gets a little messy.

I do Rose's hair, and she acessorizes her bunny.

Sunrise through the kitchen curtains, as seen from my recliner one morning a few weeks ago.

While I was in the hospital, Jeff gutted and updated our computers, and he lets Jay and Rose play Lego games on the computer. I don't have any love for computer games, but I do love listening to Jay and Rose and watching them while they play. Just because they're so cute. 

This cute tiny tree was right outside my hospital window. I looked at it a lot over those 8 days.

A close-up of a "banana bag." I still think it looks gross. But it's magic potion!

This baby is going to be pretty sweet, because SUGAR has been my main desire for the past two weeks. Mostly fruity sugar. Any fruity-ness but strawberries. Bananas, applesauce, Froot Loops, fruit juice. I'm living off of it. The hospital gives me these peel-top bowls of Froot Loops on request whenever I'm there.

Did I ever post this picture? I'll post it again if I have. I love them.