Loneliness

What is loneliness?  To me its when you feel no one understands you, even those you're closest too.  Its being surrounded by loving and supportive family and friends and still feeling like you have no one to turn to.  It's having the people you love and trust most in the world not "show up" when you're calling.  It's feeling hopeless.  It's feeling like the sadness will never go away.  
 

This is something I've been thinking about blogging about for a long time but it's a difficult subject for most, including me, to discuss.  With the recent death of Robin Williams, there has been much talk about depression and suicide.  I personally have been battling depression for the last year and a half.  It started after my dad died.  I didn't know how to cope.  I felt like no one could understand what I was feeling or going through not even my siblings who too, had lost their father.  No one had the exact same relationship with my father that I had so no one could possibly even begin to understand.  I tried expressing my feelings to my husband and other friends and family but it didn't matter what they said.  I couldn't stop the sadness and regret from flooding my mind and heart and sometimes taking over my whole body.  There was one day between my dad's death and his funeral where I completely lost it.  We were getting ready to leave for Utah for a week to tie up my dad's affairs and bury him.  I was taking care of my 4 year old and almost 2 year old in our tiny 900 square foot apartment the day before we left.  I was doing way too many things at once (laundry, packing, finishing the collage, working on the picture slide show, working the funeral program, AND taking care of the boys, etc.)  All of a sudden I felt like the walls were closing in on me.  My 4 year old asked me for something (I can't remember what) and I snapped.  It was like some flipped a switch.   Before I knew it, I was balled up on the floor whaling.  When I could finally breathe, I picked up my baby who had started screaming and grabbed my phone and started calling everyone I trusted with my children to come relieve me of my mommy duties before I completely went nuts.  It was a very sad day for me.  It was the first time I had to say "I can't be a mom right now".  In retrospect, I'm proud of myself for doing that rather then trying to "hang in there" and end up doing something I'd regret.  During that time in my life I was constantly surrounded by loving and supportive family and friends and yet I never felt so alone in my whole life.


Its been 18 months since I lost my father.  And in those 18 months I've had many more sad and life changing experiences.   But as the saying goes, "time heals all wounds".  It gets easier with each passing day.  I have days though where I again feel like the loneliest person on the earth.  I still have a difficult time expressing my feelings to those around me.  I kind of have to force myself to share my emotions with others.  It just seems like no one can say the right thing to me.  Nothing anyone says makes me feel better.  But when I'm so lonely and sad that I feel like no one understands or I have no one to turn to, I know that is when I need to get on my knees and turn to my Savior for understanding.  HE does know EXACTLY how I feel.  HE DOES understand me and my emotions. HE WILL always "show up" if I let Him in.  I will always let Him in...

The Day You Were Born

I can't believe its been six years since your daddy and I welcomed you into the world.  It was one of the happiest, most rewarding, and difficult days of my life.  Your story started not nine months before you were born, but a year and nine months before you were born.  I'll explain...

Graduation Day June 2007

Newport Beach Sept. 2007

Your daddy and I were married 4 years before we starting trying to start our family.  I was going to school, working towards my bachelors degree in liberal studies.  We knew that it would be difficult for me finish with a baby so we decided that I would finish my degree before we had children.  About 6 months before I was to graduate, your daddy and I decided to start trying for a baby.  Three months passed and we still could not get a positive on a pregnancy test.  Your daddy told me not to worry but I'm a worrier.  I couldn't help but ask myself the very scary question, "Can I get pregnant?  What's wrong with me?"  Another three months went by.  At this point I decided to make some changes.  I was determined to lose weight, be healthy, enjoy my freedom while it lasted, and prepare myself to go to the temple.  Another three months passed.  I was losing weight, the healthiest I had been my entire adult life, I was at the beach twice a week with friends or by myself enjoying my freedom and had a date set to go to the temple for the first time.  I still wasn't pregnant.  I didn't know what to do.  Daddy went to the doctor and found out he was fine.  What ever the reason we weren't getting pregnant had nothing to do with him.  Our next step was for me to go get checked.  I prayed it wouldn't have to come to that.  We had decided a couple years prior to this that if for whatever reason we couldn't have children naturally, that we would adopt rather then go through in vitro fertilization. 

Halloween 2007

Halloween came.  It had been almost a year since our journey to parenthood began.  I had stopped taking tests every month and tried to just relax.  Two days later, November 2nd I realized that I was late for my monthly.  The next morning I woke up at 5 am and took a pregnancy test.  I remember praying that it would finally be positive.  Right away, there it was.  As clear as day, Pregnant.  I started screaming and jumping up and down.  Your daddy got out of bed and gave me the biggest hug and I cried for joy into this arms.  We were going to be parents, I was going to be a mother.  I was elated.    

Redlands Temple Dec. 2007

Daddy and I decided to do things a little different then most parent.  We didn't find out if you were a boy or a girl before you were born.  If you were a girl, you'd be Sophia Kathleen.  If you were a boy, Jacob Donald.  I also decided that I was going to have all natural childbirth.  Many things led me to that decision and I'm glad I stuck by it. 

Pregnant!

My pregnancy with you was a piece of cake.  No morning sickness, no swollen ankles, no preeclampsia or gestational diabetes.  My only complainants for 40 weeks were horrible acne the first few weeks and heartburn throughout my pregnancy. 

On my due date I had my last scheduled prenatal appointment.  My regular doctor was out of town so I had to be seen by another doctor.  He checked me.  I was only about 1 centimeter dilated.  And before asking me if it was okay, he stripped my membranes.  I quickly asked him to stop!  I was mortified that he would perform a procedure without asking if that was what I wanted.  And instead of saying, I'm sorry, he just asked me "Why?" I was so mad.  I told him I wanted an all natural childbirth and I wasn't even passed my due date yet.  Your grandmothers were waiting for me in the waiting room.  I burst into tears as soon as I saw them.  I was pretty sure if I ever saw that doctor again I would slap him.  

40 Weeks

You were five days late.  My doctor had scheduled me for an induction in two days if you weren't born by then.  I prayed it wouldn't come to that.  I knew that if I had to be induced, it would make natural childbirth even more difficult to achieve.  Then at midnight on July 15th, I woke up in labor.  My water hadn't broken, but I was defiantly in labor.  We literally lived across the street from the hospital so I decided to let your daddy sleep and labor at home as much as possible.   I went into the nursery we had set up for you and rocked and rocked in my rocking chair.  I breathed, I tried to remember what I had learned in the birthing class your daddy and I took two months ago and thought about how I'd be holding you in my arms soon.  I got up and walked around.  And when I got to the point that I was in so much pain I couldn't think straight, I woke up your daddy and we left for the hospital.  It was 3 am. 

By the time I got admitted and in a room I couldn't focus.  I was practically screaming with every contraction.  The nurse checked how far along I was and told me I was only about 3 centimeters dilated.  How on earth was I going to make it another 10!?  Daddy had given every nurse that touched me a copy of my birth plan so that they knew and understood what I wanted.  I had group B strep and needed to be put on antibiotics.  The nurse that was assigned to me tried for over 30 minutes to get an IV line in me with no luck.  I was about to punch her.  lol.  She told me she was going to call for someone else to do the IV but before she left the room, she grabbed my hand, looked into my eyes and said, "You have to breathe.  You have to find a focal point and concentrate.  You have to focus your energy."  It was like someone flipped a switch in my head.  I went from being completely out of control to being in almost a trance like state.  I was in control and with every contraction I told myself, "This will pass.  This will pass.  This will pass."  over and over again till it did pass. 

Finally it came time for me to move from the labor room to the delivery room.  I told my nurse I wanted to walk there.  She was surprised but made it happen.  I have no idea how long it took me to walk to the delivery room but I imagine it took a long time.  I remember I had to stop every time I had a contraction and find something to focus on and breathe.  Finally we made it to the room.  I had a new nurse.  She was all business and a little quirky but your daddy and I liked her and felt comfortable with her from the start.  She read the birth plan and discussed it with us and told us she'd make sure we had the experience we wanted.  The delivery room was about five times bigger then the labor room so we were allowed to finally have visitors.  Your grandma's were there as well as my two best friends.  I remember when your auntie Jecca walked in she stopped right at the foot of my bed and said in the sweetest voice, "Hi, how are you doing?"  I was in the middle of a contraction and my focal point was a picture of a baby and mommy holding hands on the wall behind auntie Jecca.  Instead of saying "Hi!" I quickly waved my arm for her to move.  She looked a little puzzled until your daddy told her she was blocking my focal point.  lol. 

First picture of Jacob and I

At 1 pm my nurse informed me that she was going on her lunch break.  I was 10 centimeters dilated and I could start pushing.  Another nurse was going to be there with me while she was gone.  The doctor would be in shortly.  Before she left, my nurse told me she'd be back before the baby was born.  "You'll be pushing for at least two hours," she said.  Ten minutes later the doctor walked in.  Guess who the doctor on call was?!  The doctor I wanted to slap!  He greeted me, looked over my birth plan, asked a few questions and the whole time didn't seem to recognize who I was.  Then he examined me and checked your progress.  As soon as he looked at me "down there" he looked up and said, "Hey, you were in my office last week."  If I wasn't trying to push a person out of me I really would have slapped the man but instead I continued to push with every contraction.  Each of your grandmothers were holding one of my legs.  Your daddy was going between checking on your progress and holding my hand.  (Your daddy was AMAZING during my labor and your delivery.  He listened to what I told him and paid attention to my body language.  He was the perfect coach.)  At 1:45 pm my nurse returned and found that your head was crowning.  At 1:59 pm you were born.  A boy!  We had a beautiful baby boy!  Jacob Donald, 7 lbs. 14 oz. 19 inches long.  You were perfect.  I held you in my arms and cried and cried for joy.  You were finally here.  I waited for you for a long time. 

Today you are six years old,  no longer a toddler but a boy.  You are starting first grade next month.  You're a great big brother, an amazing son, a wonderful friend to all you meet, and a good example to your family and friends.  You have such a sweet spirit.  The other day you asked me what I thought was Jesus' favorite color.  I told you I didn't know.  You replied that you think Jesus loves all the colors of the rainbow.  You often say sweet things like that.  You have a special connection to my father who died last year.  You often ask about him and will randomly say things that are so "him".  You are so smart.  You read every sign while we drive in the car and you love math.  You have grown into such a wonderful young man.  Your daddy and I couldn't be prouder of who you've become and are so excited to continue to watch you grow and progress.  I love you to pieces my sweet Bubba.  Happy Birthday!  

      

Choices

I've recently read a really great book, "The Slight Edge" by Greg Olson.  For those of you who don't know who Greg Olson is, he is a business man, entrepreneur, CEO, and is nicknamed the "Millionaire Maker".  "The Slight Edge" basically boiled down to this in my mind; anyone can be successful, the only difference between a successful person and one who is not, is several little things that are easy to do and easy not to do, the successful people DO the easy things.  In the first chapter of the book, Olson talks about how our attitudes are a state of mind and shape our philosophy.  So that means that people who are mad, choose to be mad, those who are sad choose to be sad and people who are happy choose to be happy.  Light bulb!  WE control ourselves.  We do!  I DO!  As I was reading this book I was feeling sad and depressed.  Right then I decided to stop being sad and be happy instead.  I decided to stop looking for the negative and instead look for the positive.  I decided to start trusting people again.  I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself and start living the wonderful life I've been blessed with.  I  decided to come out of my fog and into the sunshine.  It was amazing.  I could breathe again.  I could see clearly.  The "sunshine" felt good.  It was a choice.

We all go through really horrible things at one point in our lives.  Its okay to feel sad and unhappy for a time, but ask yourself, is that who I want to be for the rest of my life?  Trust me, it feels a heck of a lot better to be happy than not.  Also, who wants to be around someone who is upset and sad all of the time?  I don't!   

One day, shortly after I lost my father, I had a very close girlfriend tell me that I didn't seem like myself.  She said I looked like myself and it seemed like I was trying to be myself but I wasn't.  And she was right, I wasn't my usual cheery self.  For months I wasn't "myself".  As I started to recover emotionally from my losses I found that I was trying to get my old self back.  It wasn't working.  Finally one day I got on my knees and prayed.  I asked my Heavenly Father what I needed to do to get better.  To get back to normal.  The answer was clear.  I need to pray more, read the scriptures more, share my feelings more, serve more, forgive more, and love more.  (Things that are easy To do and easy NOT to do.)  As I started to do these things, I have started to feel more like my old self but I've also learned to embarrass the fact that I'll never be the same either. 

Our experiences are constantly changing who we are and when you go through something as traumatic as losing 4 love ones in the matter of 8 months its going to change you.  Evolution is key to our survival, both physically and emotionally.  If I hadn't evolved emotionally from the time I was say 12, I'd be in a lot of trouble.  I would probably cry everyday because I wouldn't know how to handle the emotions that come with taking care of 2 young children and a husband.  I wouldn't know how to deal with things like juggling family, friends, church callings, and work.  I wouldn't know how to react to someone who puts me or my beliefs down.  The challenge is to not let the bad things that happen to us change who we want to be.  If you want to be happy, be HAPPY.  Embrace the fact that you will be changing emotionally for the rest of your life but also realize you have a choice as to who that person is fundamentally.  Do what it takes to be the person you want to be. 

I still have my good days and bad days.  Sometimes there are bad weeks.  The week leading up to Father's Day was rough for me.  When I think about my father I experience a range of emotions from sadness to regret.  I miss my dad terribly and I regret that I didn't try harder to have a better relationship with him when he was on the earth.  And when I think about the loss of my father I automatically think of everything and everyone else I've lost.  But then something will happen that will break me out of my funk and bring me back to the sunshine.  My boys will do something that reminds me how blessed I am to be their mother, my hubby and I will have a really great conversation, a friend will call or text me that they miss me, there will be a really spiritual lesson taught at church that seems as though it was meant just for me.  Sometimes it takes all of these things to bring me back.  And that's okay, as long as I come back.  I will always come back. 

My name is Suzie and I choose to be happy.     

Perspective

When I was 12, my mom took me to our family doctor for a physical.  I had been playing soccer for two years and was starting to have shortness of breath.  My mom wasn't sure if it was because I was a playing a position that required me to rum a lot more or because I had a mild case of asthma.  The doctor had me blow as hard as I could into this tube with a ball in it.  I passed the breathing test with flying colors.  Next the doctor had me lay down on my back to check the mobility of my legs.  I can remember him asking me about soccer; what position did I play, did I like it, what was my team name, etc.  Then he got to my left leg.  The doctor bent my knee in towards my chest then swung it out to the side.  "Is that as far as your leg can move?"  I replied to the affirmative.  The doctor then proceeded to move my leg around more, always pivoting from my hip.  He moved around my right leg too to see the comparison.  "Do you have a hard time walking, Suzie?"  I looked at my mom, frightened at what my answer would mean for me, "Yes".  I hadn't told my parents about my occasional discomfort.  Why?  Because I had watched 2 of my brothers have slipped hip and have to have surgery.  I did NOT want to have surgery so I suffered in silence and hoped that whatever it was that was bothering me would just go away.  After all, I could still walk. 
My doctor ordered x-rays on the spot.  The results were quit a shock to the doctor and his colleagues.  "How does a 12 year old have arthritis in her hip?"  I was sent to a specialist.  Because my brothers and my dad had injuries and surgeries with their legs, our family was already familiar with an orthopedist and I was sent in for an MRI immediately.  The MRI showed that my left hip joint was not formed completely.  What this meant was that the ball of the femur could slip in and out the joint, nothing was keeping it in the joint.  Over time this slipping turned into rubbing and as the arthritis got worse turned into grinding.  My hip joint was going to deteriorate if something wasn't done.  My orthopedist had never seen a case like mine (which was crazy because he was SUPER old).  He asked many other doctors and got their advice as to how to proceed.  What was decided was to open me up, cut the little joint that I had, shift it over to create a joint and then put two pins in to keep everything together.  I had surgery 1 month before my 13th birthday. 
It was a major surgery that took eight hours to perform and required me to be hospitalized for a week.  I was so sick from the anesthesia and the pain killers I was on that I could hardly eat that week in the hospital.  One night I woke up screaming, thinking that someone was cutting me open.  The nurses had to strap me down so I wouldn't hurt myself from thrashing around in my bed.  The next morning I overheard the night nurse tell my mom that I had a hallucination probably from my meds.  The day before I left the hospital I had a physical therapist come into my room with crutches.  I was nervous but excited (I was so sick of being in bed).  I remember quickly taking to the crutches and being so relieved that I could use the toilet again and have the catheter removed.  Next stop, home! 
My doctor informed my mother that I would need to stick with crutches for at least three months while my hip fully recovered.  My mom called my school when we got home, they told my mom that they would not allow me one campus with crutches after such a major surgery.  They said the risk of me falling and injuring myself was too high.  I was devastated.  I missed my friends so much.  I did not want to be stuck at home.  Luckily my brother had just gotten home from his mission a month before and he didn't have a job yet so he was home to keep me company.  The school also sent a teacher to homeschool me every afternoon.  And I had a good friend who lived up the street who would occasionally stop by on the way home from the bus stop.  I defiantly learned how to look for the bright side in situations from this experience. 
Three months passed and I was allowed to ditch the crutches.  BUT the doctor told me I should never do any activity that would put too much pressure on my hip joint.  That meant no running, skipping, jumping which meant no more soccer, football with my brothers, and PE at school.  Another blow to me.  I had four very active brothers and I liked to always try to keep up with them now I would be forced to sit on the sidelines. 
Fast forward a few years.  I was just shy of my 17th birthday.  I started having problems with my hip again.  I would be walking just fine and then suddenly I couldn't walk.  I was in pain a lot.  Back to the doctor we went.  My orthopedist who did my first surgery had retired (I told you he was old) and I went to a new doctor.  After another round of MRIs the doctor concluded that one the pins that was put in my hip a few years earlier was actually in the joint, causing more arthritis and was actually catching on cartilage (the cause of sudden stand stills).  The pins had to come out.  Enough time had passed that the new joint had healed so the pins were no longer necessary.  So 2 months before my mom and were leaving for a trip to Japan to visit my sister and her family, I went into surgery again.  The three hour surgery turned into six.  The pin that was in the joint, reeking havoc, came out pretty easily.  But the other pin broke continuously as the doctor tried extracting it from my body.  They ended up leaving half a pin in my hip and because of the complications my three week recovery turned into eight weeks.  Eight weeks back on crutches, crutching around my high school.  It sucked!  To my mom's great relief, I was released from the crutches the day before we left for Japan. 
As I grew older my arthritis grew too.  My hip can tell when the weather is about to change.  I went back to the doctor right before I got married.  Had another round of MRIs with yet another orthopedic surgeon.  I was getting married and my husband and I wanted to have children and I didn't know how this was going to be with my hip.  The doctor didn't know either.  He cautioned me that I should be careful with my weight.  More weight on my body meant more strain on my joints.  
Fast forward.  I've carried two sons full term and had them both vaginally, ALL natural with no complications.  My hip held up just fine with the exception of the arthritis deteriorating the joint little by little.  I haven't been able to run for 20 years by doctors orders.  I decided in January of this year that I wanted to run.  I didn't care what my doctor told me.  I figured I was close enough to needing a replacement that it wouldn't matter if I damaged my joint a little more and I needed to do something.  I was sad and depressed after the year I had just endured.  So I went for it.  I ran.  It felt amazing.  I totally understand the "runner high" that people talk about.  I found myself feeling more and more like myself.  Running, coupled with support of my family and friends and a few other resources totally pulled me out of my funk.
One weekend about two months ago my hip hurt so bad that I could hardly move.  I couldn't walk my stairs, I couldn't chase my kids and I was walking around like I had a wooden leg.  I went to a new doctor who told me I needed to stop running and try to put off a joint replacement as long as possible.  His reasoning was that the earlier in life you have a replacement the more likely a person is to have to have it redone later.  He highly recommended pain therapy before surgery starting with a cortisone shot followed by eight weeks of physical therapy to build the muscle around my hip.
When I went in for my cortisone shot (which was done with an x-ray machine to unsure that the cortisone got into my hip joint) I didn't have the best attitude.  To me I would have rather been going in for surgery.  I just wanted to get it over with.  I know that surgery is coming and I know that after my surgery I won't have arthritis in my hip or any of the grinding of the cartilage that I deal with currently.  The x-ray technician was super friendly and of course we got to talking about what happened to me that I was there that day.  I gave him the low down as we were waiting for the doctor and expressed to him my feelings about surgery.  What he said totally changed my perspective.  "I know you're in pain but you can walk.  What if something goes wrong in surgery and you can't walk?  You can walk now."  Wow!  He's right, I thought.  I can walk.  Maybe jumping into surgery isn't the best way to deal with my pain.
Jared and I ran into this really nice lady at the San Diego Safari Park a few months back.  She and her group were riding around in electric carts.  We were laughing and talking to her when she suggested to us that next time we come without the kids, we should rent those carts.  She and her whole group could walk.  They were older, but they could walk.  She said it was just so nice to not have to walk.  As we walked towards the next habitat, Jared and I both agreed that as long as our legs worked, we would use them, happily.  There are so many people who are not as fortunate as us.
The first weekend in May, Jared and I had the opportunity to participate in a very unique run that funded research for those with spinal cord injuries.  I was shocked to hear that there is very little research done in this area.  I decided at the last minute to join my husband on this historic run even though my doctor advised me not to.  I wanted to run for those who can't.  That morning I ran faster and longer then I ever had before and I felt amazing.  After the run, Jared and I hung out to see some interviews that were done with some people who were paralyzed do to a spinal cord injury.  I was brought to tears by one particular video.  This man injured him self when surfing, something he was very passionate about.  And instead of letting his injury define his life and who he was, he went right back out there and with some help, was on his board again.  He talked about making a choice to be happy with the hand he was dealt.  That really hit home with me.  My trials are completely different then this man's but I too want to be happy and I choice to be happy with the hand I was dealt.  I will not let my trials define my life or who I am.  I learn from them and grow to become a stronger person, a better person.  
All it took was a little perspective.            

How it works

My husband is not of my faith.  I am a very active member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (aka Mormon) and my husband is atheist.  This is quit the shocker to people when we tell them.  The question that we hear from almost everyone is, "How does that work?"  Well, I'll tell you...

My husband, Jared, and I first laid eyes on one another about 16 years ago.  He was a senior in high school.  I was a junior.  He was this super cute baseball stud.  I was a friendly yet shy girl who worked in the student store.  Jared would come into the store at lunch and usually get the same thing, a cherry coke and a snickers bar.  After a while I would get his order out as soon as he walked in the door.  This was my shy way of flirting.  Around Valentines day of that year, our ASB sponsored a compatibility test.  You filled out the questionnaire then paid $2 to get your results which would tell you who of the people who filled out the questionnaire you were most compatible with.  Guess who was at the top of my list?!  The cute baseball stud!  I think this made me even more shy around him.  I wondered if he too took the test and got the results but I never asked him.  In fact, I'm not sure if we said more then hi or bye to one another the whole school year.  That summer I got a job at a local restaurant.  Guess who worked there?!  The cute baseball stud!  At this point I was becoming a little more brave with boys but he was dating someone and soon I too was dating someone.  A year and a half passed.  My parents were going through a divorce.  My home life was hard to bear sometimes and I found myself leaning more and more on my friends, finding any excuse to not be home and believing less and less in marriage.  I broke up with my on again/off again boyfriend of 2 years and was ready to just be me.  I had given up on "stupid boys".  Jared happened to be single at this time too.  I can remember the first time he asked me to hang out with him just he and I.  It was such a lame (sorry honey) excuse but I ate it up.  He asked me to go cell phone shopping with him because I "seemed like I would know about cell phones".  LOL.  That excursion led to another, then another, and another.  Our parents kept asking us what was going on between us and we kept saying "We're just friends."  After a few weeks we both knew that we were more than just friends.  We were in love.  This fact was a little scary for both of us in the beginning.  At this point Jared was agnostic and had no plans of joining the church and taking me to the temple to be married.  He knew that's what I wanted so Jared did the honorable thing and broke up with me.  I was so sad.  I knew that I had found the man I was meant to be with.  I cried and cried but then on the way home from our meeting I had the sudden feeling that this was not the end of us.  We would be together.  A few days later Jared came over and told me that if I understood that he was not going to convert to Mormonism that he would like to get back together.  My only question for him was "when we have children, will you support me raising our children in the church?"  He was on board.  The rest is history.

When Jared purposed to me my family was worried.  They couldn't understand why I would risk my eternal destiny for this boy.  They warned me that life married to a non-member would be difficult.  I would likely fall away from the church and find myself in a life that I did't want.  My father was probably the most supportive during this time.  He believed that I had a good head on my shoulders and knew what I was doing.  I spent a lot of time on my knees during this time.  Every time I prayed to my Father in Heaven for guidance I got the same answer, Jared's the one. 

During our engagement Jared would come to many church activities and occasionally come to church too.  My bishop married us so we met with him a few times before the ceremony and actually had dinner with his family before the wedding as well.  Jared knew the congregation and they knew him.  So after we were married Jared actually came to church with me most Sundays.  It was so nice to have him there, holding my hand, being so supportive.  When I look at my husband, I don't see a non-member.  I see a man who loves me, supports me, is honest, moral, and is just an all around good guy.  About 3 months after we married, I had members of my family, including my mother and my little brother who was on a mission at the time, tell me that they could see why I married Jared.  They told me that the two of us are supposed to be together.  Jared is supposed to be in our family.  I couldn't agree more.  They could finally see beyond the fact that Jared and I didn't share the same faith.  They could see what I saw all along in my sweet husband.

After being married for 4 years I decided that I was ready to make the commitment to go to the temple.  It was an exciting time but also a little difficult because I had envisioned Jared and I going to the temple together and that would not be happening.  My husband was SO supportive of my decision.  Jared attended temple preparation classes with me, was present when I received my patriarchal blessing, and even waited outside the temple when I went through for the first time.  It was the next best thing to him going through with me.  And even though I secretly wished Jared was there inside the temple with me, I felt so proud of him and loved him even more that he was not going to do something just because someone else wanted him to.  Jared would always be true to himself and his convictions.  And in turn would support me doing the same.  I've seen people join the church because someone else wanted them to, not because they in fact had a testimony of the Book of Mormon and the gospel of Jesus Christ.  They never last long in the church.  I believe strongly that no one should join the church for another person.  Only get baptized because YOU know its right.  I've told Jared this several times over the years. 

I'll be honest,  I do think life would be easier if Jared and I shared the same faith.  Of course it would be.  But we don't and so we deal with it.  We do more then deal with it.  We use it in our favor.  It forces us to be more understanding and compassionate to each other.  We don't just "get" each other's views.  We talk about our beliefs with each other all the time always trying to understand the other a little better.  We love and support one another and our differences.  We talk a lot about religion and faith.  We understand that we have different opinions and views about the creation and scripture and Christ, etc. but we never say the other is wrong or make the other feel like their opinion doesn't matter.  Just like all couples should love and respect each other it means something more to us coming from different religious views.  We know that having a split faith family is only going to get more challenging as our sons get older.  We are raising our children in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and we both fully expect them to be baptized when they turn 8, receive the priesthood at 12 and go on missions when they graduate high school and turn 18.  However we know how important it is that they understand that they have a choice.  God blessed us all with free agency.  Honestly it will break my heart a little if the boys choose not to be members of the church.  I know that just like I respect my husband's choice to not become a member of the church I would have to respect my son's choices as well. 

How do we make it work?  A lot of love, respect, support, and understanding.  We're just like any other couple. 

 

Eve

Lately I've been thinking about the difference between men and women.  I can't help but laugh when I over hear a conversation between my husband and one of his male friends.  They usually go something like this, "Your team sucked last night dude" "Screw you".  Now let me translate this into lady talk, "I'm so sorry your team lost last night.  Are you okay?  Need anything?" "You're the best!" followed by hugs and tears.  Maybe a little exaggeration but you get the idea.  Guys just say whatever is on their minds while women feel they have to empathize with one another. 

Another difference between men and women is how women over analyze almost everything.  We think way too much and it not only drives us crazy but our male counterparts as well.  Let me give you an example.  I'm a worrier (my poor hubby) and I'm a big planner too.  My husband is one the most easy going people I know.  I'm so grateful for that fact.  I feel that because we are polar opposites in this regard we balance each other very well.  He can chill me out when I'm too wound up and I can drive my husband to act when needed.  We just got done hosting our families for Easter dinner.  I planned and re-planned the menu and the logistics for the meal for weeks before the day of the event.  I went over the menu with my husband a couple times when I found my self stressing over one food choice or another.  My hubby's response was always indifference, at least with my ears.  My husband says I hear with my feelings, not my ears.  His response would be, "Sounds good babe" "Whatever you want babe" "I'm sure it will be great whatever you make"  Though I love the support, he's obviously not that invested in this meal as I am and that's fine.  Early in our marriage a situation like this might upset me.  I can picture the 21 year old me thinking, gosh why doesn't he care?  Is he mad at me?  What did I do wrong?  The answers to these questions I now know is; he's a man, no, and nothing.  Man, if I knew then what I know now. 

This is going to sound weird for those who know who I'm talking about, but Tom Leykis opened my womanly eyes to a great, dumb fact.  Ready?  Men can NOT read our minds.  It doesn't matter if you've been married 1 day or a million, 3 years or 75.  Ladies, men can NOT read your mind.  Never say to your husband, "You should just know".  Men don't just know.  They just don't.  They don't think like us and they can NOT read our minds.  Ladies, just tell your husband what you want.  Its that easy.  Tom Leykis was on a talk radio station when Jared and I were just married.  I started listening to him when we were dating not because I agreed with his philosophy or even liked him.  In fact I thought he was a jerk BUT he made a lot of good points about men and women and their relationships.  One day on my way home from work Tom told a caller this important fact.  Its so simple and I'm sure you're thinking "well duh lady, no one can read minds."  Remember that next time you and your significant other have a miscommunication that leads to an argument.

Women always ask more questions than men.  To drive home this point I'll go back to the beginning, Adam and Eve.  When Satan tempted Adam to partake of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil his answer was simple, no.  But when Eve was tempted her response wasn't so simple.  Eve wanted to know who the tempter was.  This lead to more questions.  Why would a brother of Eve tempt her to disobey their father?  Eventually Satan convinced Eve that the only way for her to know pleasure was to know pain, the only way to know happiness is to know sadness, the only way to know health is to know sickness, etc.  Eve would have to partake of the fruit.  Adam and Eve would have to leave the Garden of Eden to become mortal beings and be tested, like us, in order to reach their eternal potential.  This could not have been an easy decision for Eve.  Could you imagine the agony she had to be in?  I can't.  She knew that she wouldn't only be disappointing her companion, Adam, but her Heavenly Father as well.  It probably broke her heart to partake of the fruit and then have to go tell Adam what she had done and get him to eat the fruit as well.  I pray that I could be that brave.   Women have to make hard decisions that shape and effect their families everyday.  Its been this way since Eve.  Now I'm not saying that men don't also have to make hard decisions too.  Men sometimes have even harder, life changing decisions to make for their family.  I know from experience that the best decisions are made when a husband and a wife come together and talk, debate, and pray about what lies ahead and then make a decision together, hand and hand.  My husband and I strive to be an egalitarian couple.  We do follow a pretty traditional husband and wife role.  I stay home with our sons, manage the home, cook, and clean and my husband goes to work each day and supports our family financially.  And even though he makes the money he knows and values my role as a mother and homemaker.  And even though my job as a stay at home mother never ends I understand how hard my husband works to support our needs and wants.  Our roles are traditional but we know how important it is to respect one another and be a team.  We are the foundation of our family.  If we are not solid, our family is not solid.   

I pray that I can be more like Eve, seeing what needs to be done and doing it.  Having faith that everything will be as it should.  Trusting my instincts and making the hardest of decisions when needed.  As I grow older, life gets more difficult.  I know that if I continue to strive to be like Eve I will fare the storms ahead a lot easier. 

      

Motherhood

I can vividly remember the moment I knew I wanted to be a mother.  I was 10 and my sister, 12 years my senior, just gave birth to her first child.  I eagerly joined my mom on a visit to see my niece the day they came home from the hospital.  Drew Ann was this beautiful little baby with lots of brown hair and soft skin.  After my mom had her turn of holding her granddaughter, it was my turn.  I sat down on the bed next to my sister and put my arms out, a little nervously.  My mom put Drew in my arms and I pulled her close.  Within seconds my nerves disappeared and were replaced with confidence.  I was surprised at how natural it felt to hold this infant in my arms.  I remember smelling her and her holding onto my finger with her tiny hand and knowing, I want this.  I want to be a mother.  After that day whenever I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer was always the same, a mother. 

My enthusiasm for motherhood waned a little after my first babysitting job.  I was 12 and at this point my sister had had her 2nd child.  I was asked to babysit for a family in our ward.  They had 3 children under the age of 5.  The youngest was only about 9 months old and a boy.  Every thing was going great till the baby needed a diaper change.  I nervously scooped up the baby and carried him into the nursery to get him a fresh diaper.  I was nervous because I had never changed a boy before.  I put the little man down on the changing table and proceeded to gather the necessary tools for completing my task.  The baby started to roll on his side.  Fearing he would roll off the changing table I kept a hand on his tummy while I finished preparing myself for the task at hand.  Finally I was ready.  As soon as I undid the soiled diaper, a steady stream of urine came up towards me.  I panicked.  I frantically looked around for something to both block the pee and mop it up at the same time.  I spotted a towel a couple feet away.  I went to grab it and when I turned back to the baby he had started to roll off the changing table.  I quickly grabbed the baby before he hit the floor but by doing so I scared the little guy.  As soon as I put him on my hip he started to pee again, all over me.  Once I settled the baby down, changed his diaper, cleaned off the urine on the changing table, floor, his clothes, and my clothes I was exhausted.  And my job wasn't done.  I had another hour to entertain the children before getting them bathed and ready for bed.  I was so relieved when the parents returned from their excursion a few hours later.  I couldn't wait to go home and sleep.  That night, as I lay in bed, I rethought my motherhood plans.  Maybe I didn't like kids as much as I thought.  I still babysat occasionally but it wasn't my favorite thing to do. 
Then I met my husband, Jared.  He was an absolute natural with kids of all ages.  This is one of the things that attracted me to him.  I knew that he was going to a great father.  Would I be a great mother?  I thought about that a lot as we courted.  We were both in college and trying to decide what we were going to do when we grew up in the next few months.  I finally decided that I wanted to go into education.  With encouragement from my husband I got a job at an elementary school as an instructional assistant in a special day class for children with mild to moderate disabilities.  I knew this job wasn't going to be easy going into it but what I didn't know was how unbelievably rewarding it would turn out to be too.  During my 4 years of service I was threatened, kicked, hit, called every name in the book, and had my hair cut, but I loved my job.  Watching my students learn and grow educationally, emotionally, and socially made it all worth it.  And little did I know that these sweet spirits were preparing me for the challenges of motherhood. You know how you meet people for the first time they ask,  "So, what do you do?".  I almost always had people say, "Wow, you must have a lot patience" when I told them I worked with special ed kids. Now as a mother of 2 very active boys I know that that patience I learned in the classroom was an absolute necessity for my job as a mother.

When I worked in special education I thought I had the most difficult yet rewarding job in the world and that's exactly what I told people.  Then I became a mother.  Boy was I wrong!  Motherhood is by far the most challenging yet rewarding job in the universe and I absolutely love it with every fiber of my being.  I'm not going to lie, there are days where I want to run away to a foreign country and not come back till the kids are 18  (I kind of feel that way right now actually as my sons are fighting for what seems like the 50th time today).

  But then they remind me why I love being their momma when they play nicely, say I love you, give me hugs and kisses, laugh, cry, sleep, watch them learn and grow, etc.  I may have the rowdiest kids around but I love them to the moon and back and more.  They fulfilled that calling I heard from above when I was just a girl to be a mother.  They made me want to be better, do better and live better.  Jacob and Andrew, you complete me.                 

Forgive

I'm sorry.  These two words are difficult for almost anyone to say but make the person they are spoken to feel better much of the time.  I'm a very sensitive person.  My feelings get hurt pretty easily.  When I worked part time at target for a couple years I ran into some really interesting shoppers.  They did and said some pretty crazy things that hurt my feelings sometimes.  Most people I dealt with were super nice but there were some that just made my skin crawl.  (Working retail requires a thick skin which unfortunately I don't really have.)  One time as I was folding shirts in the juniors department, I had a woman walk through, browsing and leaving a small wake of a mess behind her as she shopped.  Suddenly this woman stopped at my side.  I immediately looked up at her and asked, with the sweetest voice I could muster after watching her destroy my department, "Can I help you find something?"  This woman, while looking me straight in the eyes, asked in the snarkiest voice, "You have to fold ALL these shirts?!"  I replied with a "Yes ma'am."  She then rolled her eyes and with a disgusted tone in her voice said, "UGH!  I'd shoot myself!"  REALLY!  Luckily for me (and this guest) she walked away right after telling me I should shoot myself.  Initially, my jaw dropped and I kinda wanted to slap her.  But then I started to tear up a little and I felt sad.  My job was not glamorous or fun.  It was tedious and annoying.  I cleaned up after people for a very meager wage.  I so wanted to tell this lady that I was folding these shirts to make money to help support my family.  I wanted to tell her that I have a BA but I have 2 little boys I'm home with during the day so I had to find a night job.  I wanted to tell her how much I miss my family every night I'm at work.  I wanted to tell her I'd much rather be kissing my boys good night and relaxing with my husband then be here folding shirts.  I wanted to ask her what her problem was with me?  Now I know that her problem wasn't with me, it was with herself.  Fortunately these kind of interactions between me and other people don't happen very often.  Today I was speaking to a very wise friend who told me that when people say or do things negative its not about you (the person its being said or directed to), its about them.  I feel like women more so then men take things personal more frequently.  However, if my friend is right, and I think she is, we shouldn't be asking ourselves things like "Why doesn't she like me?" or "What did I do to her?" when our feelings are hurt by someone else.  Instead we should be asking ourselves "Why doesn't she like herself?" or "What is going on with her?" or "I know this isn't about me.  I forgive her."  Forgiving is so much easier then being upset or angry. 

Before I got pregnant with Jacob I went through a super difficult time in my life.  My husband and I were struggling to get pregnant, I was working almost full time and going to school full time so I could finally graduate with my BA, I was dealing with some self image issues and I was struggling with my relationship with my father.  I found myself so angry with my dad that at times it affected almost every other relationship in my life.  I was starting to get physically ill whenever my dad and I would have an unpleasant interaction.  One day after I graduated from college and finally had some time for myself, I was sitting on the couch and picked up the Ensign (for those of you who don't know its a church magazine we subscribe to).  I came to an article about forgiveness by Henry B. Eyring.  Towards the end of the article there was a paragraph that seemed to be written just for me.  It talked about how God commanded us to obey and honor our mother and father.  It went on to say that that means we need to forgive them when they have done something to hurt our feelings.  We are not honoring anyone who we resent and don't forgive.  I remember sitting back and starring at the ceiling.  I thought about the bad feelings I was holding onto about my father.  I then got on my knees and prayed to my Father in Heaven that He would help me to forgive my dad.  I also asked my Heavenly Father to forgive me for not obeying such an important commandment.  As I rose to my feet I felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders.  I felt lighter and happier.  I was no longer angry or upset.  I forgave.  The next time I talked to my dad I did not actually say the words I forgive you but I'm pretty sure he could tell something was different.  I was different. Forgiving made me better. 

When my father passed away last year I was so grateful that I had followed that great commandment from our Father in Heaven and obeyed and HONORED my parents before it was too late.  I had enough regrets to deal with when my father passed away (I didn't call him enough for one) that I'm so relieved that I didn't have to regret something like not forgiving him while he was here on the earth.  Forgiveness made it easier to grieve. 

Forgiveness leads to happiness and for this reason...
I forgive the snarky target shopper.  I forgive the women who have hurt my feelings, past and present.  I forgive my father.  It feels good to be forgiving.     

Serve

On one of my last visits to my grandparents home before my grandmother passed away I found myself in the kitchen with my grandmother, cleaning up after dinner.  I was putting the left overs away,  I opened up a cupboard and found it full of recycled cottage cheese containers, cool whip, sour cream, etc.  As I was packing away leftover mashed potatoes and her famous meatballs my grandmother lovingly touched my arm.  I turned to her and she told me, "Suzie, when I die and people come look in my kitchen cupboards and see all these containers I want you to tell them that I kept these containers so that when I made a meal for a family in need they could just throw them away."  She went on to explain that she didn't want the family to have to worry about washing any extra dishes and then have to worry about having to return them to her.  My grandmother made a lot of meals for families in need over the years.  It didn't matter if they just had a baby, just moved, were sick, or just down, she was always willing and able to make dinner or cookies for her fellow man.  My grandmother was always willing to serve.
 
A few short months later I found myself standing at a podium sharing this sweet experience I had with my grandmother with her family and friends at her funeral.  I was not the only one who shared stories of her service to others.  Almost every person who spoke shared a story of how she served in one way or another.

My grandmother passed her love of service onto her children.  My father, her second son, too was always willing to serve during his life.  He served many years in the Boy Scouts of America and received the Silver Beaver award, which is the equivalent of a life time achievement award, for his many years of service.  One year my parents took us kids to Disneyland on Christmas day.  At that time we didn't have a car that could hold our whole family so we had to drive 2 cars any time we all went somewhere together.  I was in the car with my mom and little brother on the 57 freeway when all of a sudden we saw my dad and older brothers pull over on the side of the freeway behind a car stranded on the side of the busy road.  We found out later when he and my brothers finally met us at the gates of the amusement park that my dad felt he needed to pull over to help.  No one should be stuck on the side of the road on Christmas day was what he told us.  It turned out that my father was likely an answer to the driver's prayers who was a mother traveling alone with her children  My handy father and brothers were able to help her car get going again and I believe they followed her to the gas station to make sure she made it okay.  That was my dad, always willing to serve.

Our Savior is our perfect example of service.  He served his fellow men because he loved them.  Jesus loved everyone, even those who didn't love him.  Wow!  How amazing is that!  I pray that I can be even half as loving and willing to serve as our Lord, Jesus Christ. 

Since the passing of my father and grandmother I have recommitted myself to the act of service.  I no longer wait for people to ask for help but I seek out opportunities to serve as they did.  What I've found from doing this is that I am happier.  I feel good when I serve.  I would argue that most people feel happier when they serve others.  How awesome is that!  When I help someone, I not only make them happier but I feel happier too.  I pray that like my grandmother I pass the legacy of service onto my sons and they in turn pass it on to their children.  Heck, I've started saving my cool whip containers. 

      

Love

I have always believed that there is a difference between loving someone and being IN love with someone.  I love my parents, I am IN love with my husband.  We all come into the world the same way.  We are born, we have a mother and father, and sometimes siblings.  Most of us know our parents and love them from the first moment we understand what love is.  We love our parents not only because we want to but because we need to love them.  We rely fully on them for our safety and security.

When you are IN love with someone, it is a choice pure and simple.  I don't love my husband because I need him.  I make a choice everyday to love him.  I chose to be his wife on June 21, 2003 and I continue to honor that commitment because I chose to.

Once I became a mother I learned something new about love.  I learned what it meant to love someone unconditionally.  From the moment I felt my 2 sons kick and flutter inside me, I loved these little beings unconditionally.  I didn't even know what they looked like, what sex they were or if they would love me back.  None of that mattered.  They were my children and I would love them NO MATTER WHAT.   Fast forward to today.  Jacob is a very busy and sweet 5 year old who I have to tell to do something on average 3 times.  Andrew is an energetic and loving 3 year old who will be happy one minute and have a full blown tantrum the next.  I get upset and frustrated at some point almost everyday but like the mother in the famous children's book I will "love them forever, like them for always" because they are MY children. 

Last year I again discovered something new about love.  For the first time in my life I lost not only 1 person that I loved but 4.  My father died from an accidental drug overdose in January.  In May my grandmother (father's mother) fell into a coma and passed away a few days later.  Then at the end of July my other grandmother started showing signs of dementia and died in her sleep.  Finally in August my best friend of 17 years and I had a huge falling out and she decided she didn't want me to be apart of her life.  I loved each one of these people immensely. 


My relationship with my father wasn't always an easy one to keep up.  He had a short fuse and temper to boot.  He was always the victim and everyone else was always out to get him.  As a youth these vices were directed at my mother but as his 6 children got older and my parents divorced he started to focus his rants on us kids.  I often didn't like my father's actions but I never stopped loving him and I never stopped telling him that.  At my father's funeral I stood with my 5 siblings in the receiving line as we greeted guests.  I was so grateful that all 6 of us could say that the last thing we said to our father and in turn the last thing he said to us was, "I love you." 

My grandmothers were both amazing women.  They exemplified what a latter day saint woman should be.  They loved and served their families and friends unselfishly.  They supported their husbands through their service in the military and church callings.  They each raised 6 children.  My grandmother's were and still are my hero's.  They both endured to the end of their lives.

My friend and I were more than friends.  We were like sisters.  We did everything together and we told each other everything good and bad.  She was one my bridesmaids when I got married, she was the first person I told I was pregnant after trying for 11 long months, she was present at both of my sons births  and was "auntie" to my sons.  I knew with the same surety that my husband and I would grow old together that she and I would also grow old together, holding hands with our husbands at our sides.  Through the dimize of our friendship, I never stopped loving her.  My actions were because I loved her so much and because I had watched her just a few years earlier crumble to pieces while I stood by and did nothing for fear that I would lose her friendship.  I acted this time around because she had made me promise her not to just stand by.  She had me promise to tell her the truth no matter what.  What I saw as the truth, she saw as lies.  What I saw as loyalty, she saw as betrayal.  What I saw as love, she saw as jealousy.  In the end what I was most hurt about was that she abanded my sons.  They were innocent.  They never did anything to hurt her but yet they had to grieve the loss of someone they loved and someone they knew loved them too.  It broke my heart to try to answer my 5 year olds questions of where his auntie was.  My heart still aches for the loss of this friendship. 

So what did I learn about love last year?  I learned the truth behind the age old phrase "It is better to have loved and lost, then to have never loved at all".  All 4 of the people I lost last year taught me, shaped me, and loved me.  I am the person I am today because of their love for me and mine for them.  I am so grateful for the trials of  last year that helped me gain a better understanding of love and helped me to love my family more intensely.  I know that the love of my Savior is what carried me through the fog I was in last year.  I know that my Heavenly Father loves me more than I could possibly comprehend.  Love, is the strongest force in existence.