8 month recap!

I can't believe I haven't written since November. 

Maybe I felt like I didn't have anything noteworthy or important to say.

Not that every post has to be important,

maybe I'm putting too much pressure on myself. 

To be funny.

Or clever.

Or witty.

Or heartfelt. 

And even though this post may not be any of those things, 

a lot has transpired since November,

so I guess a recap wouldn't be a bad idea.

At Christmas, we found out we were having...

A GIRL.

We were excited.

This seems like so long ago!

During the pregnancy J and I talked about our future family. 

We talked about his future as a medical student,

and then a resident.

Hours would be long.

Rotations would be hard.

Sleep deprivation would surely be the norm in our lives.

Studying.

Boards Step 1.

Studying.

Boards Step 2.

Studying.

Did I say studying?

And then as a resident?

More sleep deprivation.

On call.

Rounds.

80 hour work weeks.

I have heartburn when I think about it.

So as we talked,

we talked about this third bun baking.

Maybe this bun should be our last.

We left it as a maybe,

we'd come back to the conversation later.

Except the more we let the idea simmer in our minds,

the more clear the picture became of what our family looks like.

It's a family of 5.

We knew it.

We felt it.

This little starfish growing in my uterus would be the last one to inhabit the space.

My last roommate.

And so,

on Christmas morning, 

when we read the words,

"Congratulations, it's a girl!"

on the small card the nurse handed me at the doctor the week before,

we knew that this little girl was our caboose,

the last piece to the DeWitt family puzzle.

And that felt right.

At the beginning of the year,

Jason was offered an interview in Texas.

I tagged along.

We drove to the neighborhood I heard about to see if we could envision our lives there.

We fell in love. 

The interviews went great, and the school was fantastic.

Jason fell in love.

We were committed.

Though we still had an acceptance to UofA Phoenix,

(Or UACOM-P as the students call it)

we felt like Texas was where we would surely end up.

So now it was just a waiting game.

A couple of months after that,

more good news.

Mom was cancer free!

After a radical debunking surgery

and a few more rounds of chemotherapy,

she was in remission.

Of course this was the greatest blessing, 

and what everyone had been praying for for months. 

We threw her a party

and celebrated her victory.

Some time in March, I was awakened by the Spirit,

telling me to do a specific something in my Laurel's lesson I was giving that weekend.

After I had made the mental note to add that to the lesson,

I received this message,

"You are going to Texas. Start organizing the house. Everything will work out."

My chest burned as I heard those words.

It was clear.

I could not deny it.

And the next day, I told Jason about my experience.

We mentally prepared ourself for our move to Houston. 

Now all we needed was the official acceptance from the medical school. 

It was coming.

How could it not?

The Spirit had told me so.

The first weekend of April, UACOM-P had their second look weekend.

This is where they "wine and dine" their accepted applicants, 

hoping that those with multiple offers will ultimately choose their school.

Jason went, even though we were still waiting for an acceptance from TX.

After a full day of tours, talking to students and staff, and learning more about the school,

Jason surprised me by saying that if TX accepted him,

it was going to be more of a weighted decision than it was before.

He liked what he saw. And heard.

And felt like he fit in with the students better.

As he explained how his perspective had changed,

my focus started to shift as well.

Life WOULD be easier if we stayed here.

And the closer my due date got,

the more my mind changed from Texas to Arizona.

And then, 

after a while,

I didn't want to move at all.

I wanted to stay.

We were going to stay.

I didn't want to pack up the house while trying to recover from labor,

having a newborn,

trying to find a rental in Houston,

not knowing how long it would take for our house to sell,

Camden changing schools.

It was all too much.
So I picked out some paint and started decorating the girls' room.
Jason didn't stop me- so I guess I knew the answer was Arizona.

Fast forward to the morning of April 29th...
I was DONE with being pregnant,
it was time to get this baby out!
So after breakfast, I made myself a little castor oil cocktail,
plugged my nose,
and gulped it down.
And then I waited....
....
.............

At about 2 p.m., I felt my first real contraction.
Hard and long.
Then another at 2:20,
2:40,
2:50,
3:00,
and then every five minutes.
Jason called on his way home from work.
I told him I was having steady contractions.
When he said, "So you think this could be it??"
I said, "DON'T JINX IT!"
He got home around 4 and we walked down the park with kids.
I stopped with each contraction and held onto Jason.
At the park, it was uncomfortable to sit, to stand, to walk.
I was hurting.
And my back was taking the brunt of it.
Because I had a c-section with Navy,
my doctor didn't really want me to labor long because of risk of rupturing,
so at 6 o'clock when they were still 5 minutes apart and getting painful,
I decided to call Dr. Holmes.
Without wanting to know how far apart my contractions were or how long they were lasting, he said
"I'll meet you at the hospital"
It was go time!

After checking in, I was checked in triage and was only 1 cm dilated.
My doctor came in and said he wasn't sure that I was actually in labor,
though looking back I had never told him I was having back labor-
since that is a good indicator of true labor,
he probably wouldn't have made me wait.
Anyway,
he wanted to wait an hour to see if I would progress.
The hospital wouldn't let me walk around because I wasn't considered "full term"
which is now 38 weeks.
I was 37 and 4 days.
For that hour, I prayed hard!
I prayed that my labor would progress and that this baby would be born tonight.
I did NOT want to go home.
My contractions continued, but seemed to get less intense and farther apart according to the monitor.
I was worried.
But my back was still cramping so I figured that was probably a good sign.
After the hour was up, Dr. Holmes checked me again and I was at a 3!
HOORAY!
Then it was i.v. placement, sign paperwork, meet anesthesiologist, o.r. nurse,
and then the walk back to the operating room.
Seeing that room in a non emergency situation
(like I did with Navy)
was unnerving.
It's very sterile,
and cold
and unwelcoming.
I told Jason later,
"I can't believe you want to spend every day in a room like this"
He said I was crazy and that it made him excited.
Onto the table I went, hunched over,
and the spinal was administered.
And let me tell you,
I'm a huge wuss.
I cried and grabbed the nurse who was holding me.
It was not fun.

After I laid down, the drapes were put up,
and Jason was finally let in.
I felt the tugging and pulling and at 10:24 p.m.
we heard that sweet cry.
It was strong and loud!
They cleaned her off a bit and then laid her on my chest.
I was so happy to be able to hold her right after.
Because I was really shaky and feeling drugged from all the medication,
I didn't hold her long,
but I was grateful for the few minutes I got.
She weighted 7 lbs even and was 20 inches,
with a full head of red hair just like her sister!

Jason took pictures of the whole process,
but my (ahem) lower half wasn't covered,
so I'm going to spare you those.

Woah... I was swollen! No wonder I was so miserable!

We have had Lily Jewel in our family for 7 weeks now and we just love her.
She is a great baby and is really packin' on the pounds!
Her little cheeks have really filled out and she's got some delicious thigh rolls.
(Why doesn't anyone say that about me??)
Lily will be our last baby,
so I am trying to enjoy her as much as I can,
but man!
3 kids is hard!!
I am finally feeling like I am SORTA getting the hang of things around here,
but there are days where I still don't find time to shower.
It is overwhelming.

Since having her home,
we've been busy with summer camps, dance recitals,
work, doctors/dentist appointments, but Jason's last day of work for DeWitt Equipment is today!
He will have one whole week off before he starts school on June 27th,
so we are excited to spend some quality time as a family before our lives change forever.
And,
We are so grateful for Jason's dad, for employing him the last 7 years-
DeWitt Equipment has been a great blessing for our family.

That was a pretty long recap I'm sorry-
I really should be better about blogging.
Though I may have a more interesting life once Jason starts school,
so maybe there will be more frequent posts ahead!

Happy Friday!

Divinely Inspired

I know I know...

I've missed quite a few Gratitude Mondays. 

Sorry about that.

This fetus doesn't allow me to accomplish much these days.

A shower and hair wash is considered a win for me lately.

Every Monday, 

I do still think about the things I'm grateful for.

I am still grateful in my heart,

even though sometimes I can't make it to the computer to articulate what I might be feeling that day.

I am grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who is mindful of my family.

I am grateful for a husband who has picked up the slack around the house,

no questions asked.

He serves lovingly while I transfer from bed to couch to bathroom floor, then back again.

Though I feel worthless,

he doesn't make me feel like an inconvenience,

and my love for him in the last couple of months has grown exponentially.

Though I didn't know that was even possible. 

I am grateful for a selfless mother,

who moved her life into my spare bedroom to pick up the pieces of my life I could no longer carry.

Unknowing to her, I watched her one night,

bald and beautiful,

do the dishes while I laid on the couch.

And in no time, tears filled my eyes,

guilt filled my mind,

but love and admiration filled my heart.

It is quite a humbling experience to watch your mother,

fighting the battle of her life,

hair gone,

knees weak,

eyes tired,

serve you and your family willingly.

I did not ask her to come here.

In fact, I asked her NOT to come.

She insisted.

She wasn't asking for my permission.

She was coming.

Because that's what mothers do she said. 

And because she said she needed the blessings that service brings.

And as her scans came back better than anyone expected last week,

I said a silent prayer thanking God that he did in fact bless her for serving.

And knowing she will be around longer,

is a blessing for all of us.

And I will never be grateful ENOUGH for that.

I am grateful for a best friend who I call my sister,

who I call everyday.

Who listens. 

Who understands.

I am grateful for a son who challenges me,

almost daily.

If he was easy, I wouldn't require the help and guidance of my Savior and Heavenly Father

on how best to reach him.

To raise him.

And to love him in ways he feels it.

I am grateful for miracles in my life.

Big and small.

And though it has been hard lately,

I am grateful for the life slowly growing inside me.

Sometimes, 

I think about what my life would be like if I had not made the decisions I made almost 5 years ago.

Who would I be?

Would my soul have been capable of bearing this cancer journey our family has been on?

If my life, still in turmoil, could have taken any more tragedy?

And then I stop thinking about it.

Because I can't let myself go back there.

I am here now.

And wow, is it an amazing place to be.

The morning my mom shaved her head,

I had already headed out of town when my sister called.

She said, "I feel like I should get mom a present, but what do you get for a situation like this???"

Not even 24 hours earlier, 

with shaking hands,

I paced back and forth around the bathroom.

I waited.

And then just like that, two pink lines appeared on a little stick and our lives changed forever.

So when my sister asked about something to get my mom,

I knew I had to tell her.

I turned around, 

drove home,

and pulled down the newborn storage bin from the garage.

I found a onesie, 

pinned a teal ribbon on it,

and wrapped it.

Since I had captured the moments before, during, and after my mom's hair shaving with my camera,

I thought I'd continue shooting while she opened her gift. 

Her tears that day went from sadness to joy.

And I can't help but think that the timing of it all was divinely inspired.

Bravery

Yesterday my mom text my sister and me a picture.

Of a pile of hair.

Her hair.

After her morning shower.

It was time.

She told Brittany today would be the day.

I knew I wanted to be there,

but with a sick kid home from school, I wasn't sure I would be able to.

Luckily, I have an amazing mother in law who offered to watch him so I could go.

We loaded up and headed East.

When I got there and saw her, 

hair noticeably thinner,

patches of scalp now showing,

my heart ached.

She is sick and this was going to be our violent shove into reality.

Family came to support.

Her mother,

nieces,

daughters,

and husband. 

We stood around her as she sat down and covered her face with a towel.

My sister put the razor to her head a few times,

then backed away,

tears running down her cheeks.

"It's okay" my mom said noticing her hesitation.

And so she began. 

Little by little,

hair fell to the floor.

My mother cried into the towel.

Brittany cried as she dropped hair into a pile on the floor.

And I cried behind the lens of my camera.

Apart from sniffles and the sound of the razor, the room was quiet.

And reverent.

And then it was done.

She uncovered her face and smiled.

Sympathetically as if to say she was sorry.

She was still beautiful.

We hugged.

We cried.

We smiled.

And then we tied a scarf on her head and made bread.

Gratitude Monday Tuesday

A day late again.

Oh well.

Yesterday was a pretty great day.

And easy for my heart to be filled with gratitude.

Prayers were answered yesterday.

Temple promptings were confirmed.

And so today, I am grateful for the temple.

About four and half years ago, I lived only 5 minutes from the Gila Valley Temple.

It was a defining time of my life.

Decisions needed to be made.

Big decisions.

Life altering decisions.

And not just life altering for me,

life altering for a two year old Camden as well.

With a built in babysitter,

I had the opportunity to attend the temple a lot.

I spent hours in the celestial room.

Crying.

Praying.

Begging for answers.

For direction.

And though big promptings were never felt,

peace was.

Comfort was.

And though resounding answers never came,

love did.

Humility did.

Several months ago as I struggled with a question,

frustration and doubt filled my heart.

After one particularly hard morning, I decided to go to the temple.

In the celestial room I cried.

And prayed.

And listened.

And this time, the answer did come.

A simple one word answer.

I drove home feeling such gratitude for a Heavenly Father who listened to me,

comforted me,

answered me.

Over the course of the next few months, 

I had to rely on faith.

Faith on what I felt in the temple.

The answer I felt in my heart.

Doubts came and I wondered if I really did hear what I heard.

Maybe it was just my mind telling myself what I wanted to hear.

But I patiently waited.

And yesterday, that one word answer was confirmed.

I thought about my experience in the temple that day.

I thought about the faith that was required of me.

I thought about how blessed I am to have a place I can go where the veil of this life is a little thinner and my Heavenly Father and Savior are a little closer.

Where peace,

and hope,

and love abound.

And my soul can rest.

Gratitude Monday Part 3

Part 3 already?!

That went so fast.

I feel like I just wrote last week's Gratitude Monday post.

Today there is a lot to get done.

Laundry.

Gym.

Groceries.

Dishes.

Meal prep.

Mom will be staying with me this week,

so I am trying to get everything done before she gets here tonight.

My third installment of Gratitude Monday, had me contemplating at my keyboard.

Navy played by my feet,

drawing, 

talking, 

singing.

With a big smile on her face, 

she showed me how her pen made clicking sounds.

Then she crawled up on the chair next to me,

plugged her nose and said,

"What's that stink?"

When I told her I didn't smell anything she said,

"It's probably you."

Thanks Nav.

Then she climbed up on the desk, 

grabbed the harmonica from the shelf,

and started playing.

"Dance mom"

I danced in my seat.

"No, mom. Stand up and dance."

"You dance."

So she handed me the harmonica, 

climbed down,

and danced around my room as I played.

As she twirled, I smiled.

My heart full of love for her.

So today, 

I am grateful for my daughter.

Spunky.

Smart.

Sassy.

Sweet.

At 14 weeks pregnant, I scheduled a 3D ultrasound.

I just couldn't wait any longer.

"It's a girl!" she said.

I cried.

It was exactly what I wanted. 

And she has brought me more joy than I ever thought possible.

She is funny.

And clever.

And makes us laugh when she looks at us out of the corner of her eyes.

And when she says "Probably" in almost every comment she makes.

And when she sings to "Let it go" and knows all the words.

When she rides her push bike, falls off, and pretends to die.

When she dances during the musical number during sacrament meeting. 

When she also does a somersault during said musical number.

She is joy.

Pure joy.

And I could never thank my Heavenly Father enough for entrusting her to me.

Grateful Monday Tuesday Part 2

I started this post yesterday, but things got busy, as life does.

So there it sat.

Until now.

I have thought a lot about what I wanted to say today. 

The cancer storm has calmed somewhat, and we are all catching our breath finally. 

The road ahead is still long, 

but we hope it is a steady one.

There has been more time to reflect.

More time to feel blessed.

Feel gratitude. 

For my Grateful Monday part 2,

I am grateful for my friends.

About 18 months ago, Jason and I sat down and talked about what the next year would bring.

There was still a lot to do on his path to medical school. 

Shadow physicians.

Volunteer.

Study and take the MCAT.

He had about 7 months to do it all.

He felt overwhelmed about the limited time he had before applications opened.

We decided to wait another year to apply.

We were so happy here.

We loved our home.

Our neighborhood.

Camden had made great friends.

We felt really good about postponing it. 

When my mom was diagnosed and the news started to spread,

the outpouring of love and support from my friends was incredible. 

T-shirts were purchased.

Babysitting was willingly accepted.

Meals were brought in.

And I'm not even the one with cancer!

As I was talking to Jason one night, 

I understood just why we had felt so good about waiting a year to apply.

There is no way I would have had this kind of support anywhere else.

I am grateful we stayed so that I can be near my family at such a difficult time.

I can't imagine how I would feel in this situation if I was living across state lines. 

But I am also grateful for the arms of friends that have wrapped around me

and served me and my family with no questions asked.

You know who you are,

and I will never be able to thank you enough.

I am lucky.

I am blessed.

I am so incredibly grateful.

Buttermilk

Last week was well...

Hell Week.

As I accompanied my mom and dad to appointments last week, 

I was focused. 

I had a purpose.

I had a duty to them.

I was doing, and working, and talking, and explaining, and asking, and scheduling.

I held it together.

For them.

When they left to go home Friday after four full days of all things cancer,

I was alone.

Camden was at school.

Navy napping.

I sat on the couch and it all came crashing down on me.

I had no job.

No duty.

No purpose.

It was just me and my thoughts.

My fears.

My grief.

I sobbed into the pillow, my shoulders shaking.

I was tired.

Emotional stress was taking its toll on my body.

I had no motivation to do anything.

I didn't want to go to work.

I didn't want to do the laundry.

Or my dishes.

Or make dinner.

Homework was forgotten.

Hair went unwashed.

I did manage to make a menu and go grocery shopping.

Then Saturday as I looked in my fridge, I noticed two large bottles of buttermilk and half and half.

I could not remember why I bought those.

I'm sure they were for a recipe I had planned, 

but when I looked back at my menu, no recipe called for buttermilk.

Or half and half. 

So there they sit.

A reminder of the mental fog that was hell week.

The fog is clearing,

and the grief comes and goes.

The fear stays constant.

And brings me to my knees most mornings.

And to tears most evenings, as I cry into Jason's arms until I fall asleep.

Twelve weeks until my mom's surgery.

Twelve weeks of chemo.

Twelve weeks of side effects.

Twelve weeks of watching my beloved mother fight.

Three (ish) weeks until she loses her hair.

Twelve weeks of watching my dad tenderly hold my mom's hand every opportunity he gets,

knowing every day with her is a blessing.

And that's just the first three sessions.

After her surgery, will be another twelve weeks.

Another three sessions.

For the next six months, our lives will be consumed with cancer.

So until this nightmare is over,

and my mother is cancer free,

I will find things to be grateful for.

And on Mondays I will sit down and blog about my gratitude. 

Because I will not let cancer overshadow blessings and tender mercies from my Heavenly Father.

On my first "Gratitude Monday",

I am grateful for my loving husband.

Without being asked, he has picked up the slack this week and been the quiet comfort that I have needed.

I always tease him that he is so unsympathetic towards me.

He's a very tough love kind of husband.

But this week has been different.

And my love for him has grown as I cling to him for support.

He even planned a surprise date for me Saturday night. 

We laughed, we judged other restaurant go-ers from our corner booth,

and we didn't talk about cancer once. 

It was exactly what I needed.

He is exactly what I need.

And exactly who I want by my side during the uncertain months ahead.

This week, our family prepares to pull up our boot straps and face the enemy.

Hell week is over.

And now it is time to fight.

She fights.

And we pray.