Clara: Episode 5

I think this is the funniest set of Clara-isms yet.

1. I made homemade chicken noodle soup the other night. Clara has decided that she loathes chicken, unless it comes from Chick-fil-A.  (But, that's a secret).  So she was thrilled when I served her bowl of soup before adding the chicken.  She was so thrilled that stopped in her tracks, held her hand together near her chest, and then ran over to my side hugging me.  "Oh Mommy!  I am 100% sure that I will never regret living in this family with such a good Mommy!"

2. The kids were playing a game with some homemade cards that have pictures of our family on them. They had devised some system where they would decide the fate of the person on the card before turning it over.  The planned action didn't happen, but it made the kids laugh.  Before one turn they decided that the next person flipped over had to have their arm amputated.  They turned over the card and it was a picture of me. Clara screamed, "No!  Not Mommy!  She already got her mouth amputated!"

3. This one is actually something funny that Audrey (5) said, but she said it to Clara.

Clara:   Did you know that Jesus' name is really Jehovah?

Audrey: His name is not Jevolvah!

Clara: yes, it is. It was his old name, and then he changed it to Jesus.

Audrey: I'd change my name to Jesus too if My name was Jevolvah.

4.During Church on Sunday while I was recuperating - 

Clara, jumping up and down on the bench. Clara, climbing all over people during the sacrament, almost bumping the tray to the floor. Clara, climbing under the benches.

Daddy: Clara, you are behaving the worst you have behaved in forever. Now sit down, and think about Jesus.

Clara: (Loud enough for everyone to hear in the chapel) Daddy, I AM thinking about Jesus. I'm Jesus' Cat. 

Daddy: You are NOT going to be Jesus' cat during the meeting. Sit down now.

Clara: (crawling into the isle, being sacrilegious) My name is Christ. Christ the cat. Sister Bell can call me Christ, Jesus' Cat!

5. And finally, at dinner tonight, Clara admitted to writing a love letter to a boy at school. She has loved him since Kindergarten.  He went to a different school for 1st grade and came back to her school this year.  At first she loved him because he used blue scissors and because he was so handsome.  Now it has evolved further.  I confiscated the note and told her that it is inappropriate to give to him and she can write him a note complimenting him but not professing love. Here is her letter:

Dear ________,

For some time now I have loved you.  I egmiyered ( admired) you for such a long time.  I like the way you shine like a flower.  You are so hansom (handsome)  Sine- Your secret egmiyer.  

Paper Chain

It isn't often that I experience something so awful, so challenging, so consuming, that I am unable to write in detail about it while I am going through the trial.  In fact, I don't think it has ever happened to me.  Until my jaw surgery.

What can I say?  Wow.  It was hard.

My surgery was on September 5th.  After all I could do to prepare, I placed my faith in God and trusted in my oral surgeon, Dr. Urban, carefully selected, to perform a successful surgery.  The procedure that I had is called a Lefort Osteotomy.  Check out this link to understand more.  I had the first kind.  http://www.roopakmaj.com/2007/06/3-weeks-post-op-prepare-to-be-grossed.html

I knew that when I woke up my teeth would be banded together.  I was pretty nervous about this causing me to panic.  I chose not to research the operation because, sometime, not knowing is better.  I'm still glad that I didn't do much research.  I knew just enough to be prepared but not enough to back down.  If I had known how hard it would be, I can't imagine that I would have gone through with the surgery.  People told me it would be terrible.  I told myself it would be really terrible.  I wanted it to be less terrible than I imagined.  It was more terrible.

My last meal was a hamburger from the Training Table and an A&W root beer at 9 p.m. on Tuesday.  On Wednesday we got the kids off the school and headed over to Alta View Hospital.  They checked me in, weighed me, drew a bit of blood to make sure I wasn't pregnant, drew some more blood just to drain me a little ( I don't know why they did it twice), checked my vitals, and deposited me in a room to change into a somewhat revealing hospital gown and  wait it out.

We waited.

And waited.

We laughed when we watched a cooking show called "The Chew" while waiting.  There I was, about to lose my ability to chew for 6 or more weeks, watching a cooking show full of people chewing delicious homemade pizza.

About an hour behind schedule, the ball got rolling.  The Dr. came in.  We talked about last minute things.  I told him I was afraid of throwing up and that Phenergan  had controlled nausea in the past for me, but that it would also make me sleep.  The anesthesiologist came in and put in the I.V.  Without warning me, he also added something to make me drowsy.  I remember them starting to wheel me out.  I can't really remember anything after that until. . .

I woke up. .

The surgery lasted 3 1/2 hours.

I woke up 2 hours after the surgery ended.  It was 7 P.M.

There were two people by my bed and I was in an open space.  They sounded a little frantic and were telling me to breathe.  "Breathe deeper!"  I struggled to breathe, but something was gurgling in my throat.  After a bit I started to cough up blood.  The nurse demanded that I open my mouth.

The first set of rubberbands. They made it very hard to talk and I couldn't open my mouth.  Now I only have two rubberbands that I am allowed to remove to eat and brush. 

What?  I knew my teeth were banded together.  I said I couldn't, the best I could with the tight bands.  She said I could.  So I tried, envisioning the tracheotomy I was going to get if I didn't start breathing better.  And as I coughed up blood, the nurse suctioned it out.  I guess this helped my O2 levels because they started to calm down.  I didn't calm down though .  Blood was dripping down my throat.  I felt terrible.  I remember hearingi someone say the anesthesiologist had been sitting with me for a long time.  I heard the word tachycardic.  I had no idea what it meant.  Now I know it means rapid heart rate.  I think my heart was going 130 or so, where normal for me is in the 70's.

That night is somewhat of a blur of suctioning myself all night long, coughing up blood, blood running down my face, and just feeling miserable.  The Dr. came to see me that night and again the next morning very early and told the nurse to clean me up.  I guess I had blood all over my face.

They were pumping me full of drugs- phenergan, morphine, steroids, antibiotics, and later Lortab, Zofran, something like Motrin, and Afrin.

The morphine burned as it entered, starting in my heart and burning down my body like liquid draining out of my feet.  The steroid burned in a different way.  It took me about two days to communicate that to the nurses.

I couldn't talk.  I wrote everything down for a bit.  My mouth was very swollen. My palate was swollen . My tongue was swollen. I tried not to panic.  At some point they started to push liquids on me.  I had this 2 oz. syringe with tubing attached and a very strong person could suck up the liquid and then squirt it in my mouth.  It was exhausting.  I remember being immensely proud of myself that I fed myself 4 oz. of apple juice and thinking that it was plenty for one meal.  I think I had about 600 calories between Wednesday and Saturday.

I hadn't planned on people sleeping there with me, but I guess I was in such bad shape that Judd decided it was necessary.  He stayed the first night.  I think my dad slept at my house with my kids.  My dad stayed the next two nights.  All they had to sleep on was a pitiful reclining chair.  It didn't look comfortable.  I kept them up while they worried about me.  I was a mess.

The 3 day hospital stay doesn't really fit chronologically in my mind.  It's a mix of half awake half asleep episodes.  There was walking around the halls.  It was exhausting.  Blood pressure, humidifier, I.V. food.  At some point a nutritionist came and brought me a wired jaw diet packet.  I think I opened my eyes for about 5 seconds of her visit.  I never got to read the packet and it didn't seem to come home with me.  The R.S. presidency came to visit me.  The president told me later that she cried after she left my room because I looked so awful.  My aunt came and sat with me and rubbed my hands and feet with lotion and braided my hair.  It was very soothing.  I felt so helpless and disconnected.  I felt like I was dying.

Dr. Urban kept urging me to get up out of bed, but I couldn't manage more than a walk around the nurses station every few hours. He said I would feel better if I got up and moved around.  It didn't make me feel better. It took every bit of will power I had and then I would sleep for two hours after a walk.  On the fourth day, I went home to my parents house.  I began to have anxiety attacks each night.  My nose was stuffy and I was afraid it would completely clog and I would suffocate or have to cut the bands and risk my jaw healing incorrectly.  Every time I would fall asleep I would wake up in a panic. I had this constant heavy feeling on my chest. This lasted for 4 nights.  I slept for only a few hours each night, and only for one hour at a time.  The rest of the time I would just breathe in and out and try not to panic, praying for comfort. My parents set up a humidifier and a fan, and placed a bell by me that I could ring if I needed help. Finally,  on the 7th night after surgery, I got decent sleep.  I thought I would turn the corner and feel better and be able to stay awake and focus on doing something like reading or watching t.v.

 But, I still couldn't function.  My dad took me to the store to walk around.  I got in, went down one aisle, and stopped.  "The cart is too heavy.  I can't do this," I didn't care about anything at that moment.  He took me back and told my mom I was getting worse.  She called the doctor and they decided I was dehydrated.  My parents pushed water and pedialyte on me and it actually worked. 8 days after surgery I finally turned a corner!  I was able to stay out of bed and walk without my knees buckling.

I decided I didn't need a blood transfusion and that I wasn't going to die.

I had done some things in the previous days, like working a puzzle with my mom.  It was one of the hardest things I ever did.  I only did it to pass time and to try to stay out of bed.  I could hardly hold my head up. I couldn't walk straight.  I had to hold on to my dad's hand when we would go walk outside because my knees kept buckling under me.  I couldn't seem to lift my arms up. They were just too heavy.  I was walking crooked.  My body just wanted to tilt.

It was so wonderful to emerge from the fog!  And it's just gotten better every day since then.  It has now been 20 days.  I spent 3 days in the hospital and 2 weeks and one day with my parents.  Yesterday was my first day home with my family.  I did have visits with them frequently, but I really stepped back into the mother role today.  And it was hard.  I am pretty much seriously really tired.

 But, nothing has ever been as physically hard as those 8 days.

I knew I was scaring people, and there was nothing I could do about it.   I had many priesthood blessings -probably 5 or 6 over 8 days. I knew I wasn't going to die, but I still felt only half connected.  I heard my mom tell my husband that she could gauge my recovery process by how many times I said,"I don't care.".  I just didn't care about anything.  "You decide Mom, please.  Just tell me what to eat, what to do.  It's too hard."  I personally was gauging my recovery by how well I could play the piano and whether I could beat my mom at Carcassonne.  The first game was a disaster.  I just wanted it to end.  My face hurt so much and I was so tired.  The end was a relief.

I am so glad that the hardest part is over.  I can deal with the rest.  I can deal with no feeling in my palate or upper teeth.  I can deal with the constant tingling and heavy feeling in my upper lip, nose, and cheeks all the way up to my eyes.  I can even handle being banded shut, especially now that I get to take them off to drink through a straw and eat baby food, I mean pureed food. I will not even go into details about how great it is to brush my teeth after not being able to brush for two weeks. Let your imagination fill in the details on that one.  I can handle the pain.  It's not too bad.  I can take the bruising that started by my mouth and spread and then started to sink under my chin.  It's pretty ugly, but I think it will be mostly gone in another week or so.  I can totally handle the weight loss.  Oh yes, that part is sweet.

This all started over two years ago with a broken tooth, soon followed up with a most confusing blessing that told me how much I would need my family to help me through. At the time I remember thinking, "I don't know what's wrong with me, but this doesn't sound good."  My family has rallied around me and supported me and my husband and children in so many ways.  I have received many get well cards, encouraging emails and facebook messages.  My parents cared for me for over two weeks.  My husband took on all the responsibilities at home.  Other family members babysat and brought meals, often both. My sister and brother in law are paying for a mother's helper and cleaning of my home for the next two weeks.  The ward family also flooded our home with goodies and offers of babysitting as needed.  I truly felt cradled in the arms of  love extended by my friends and family. And I needed it so very much. I also felt nourished by the word of God as I read the scriptures alone and with my parents.  The scriptures soothe the spirit, regardless of the state of the body.

So, almost three weeks down and three weeks to go.  I'm halfway there! The paper chain my mother made me is much smaller than it used to be. Has this healed my problem?  Well, I don't know.  My problem had to do with my bite and how it affected my ability to chew properly.  It had to do with how my bad bite was causing me to clench and grind in my sleep.  It was a complicated problem and fixing it is a process.  So, I think I am closer, but I guess I won't know for sure until I get the feeling back in my upper teeth.  Right now my bite feels pretty good, but that is only the opinion of my lower teeth. I am not done with my orthodontic treatment and will have my braces on for another 9 months to a year, mostly likely. Ask me then if my mouth problem is better.  I do believe I'm on the right path and that in the end I will be improved to a point where I am not in daily pain.

Clara: Episode 4

1. Clara recently learned a little bit about hypnosis and also how to snap.  So, she was all set to try out her new skills.  "Daddy" Clara began one night," Look at my finger". She began to move her finger in the standard hypnosis pendulum like swinging movement. "You are getting sleepy! You are getting very sleepy."
Judd decided to play along and eventually closed his eyes.
Gasp! "It worked!  When I snap my fingers you will open your eyes.  You will not remember anything."

Silence.

More silence.

And more silence.

Then, a frightened cry, "Oh no!  I can't make my fingers snap. I've hypnotized Daddy and he's going to be asleep FOREVER!"

2. Clara:  Mommy I've been feeling really itchy today.  I think I've been around too many men.  Do you think I need some allergy medicine?
Me: No.  I think you should just stay away from the men.

3. This one was relayed from my friend and one of my few blog followers- Natalie. She had brought us some goodies the night before.

• At church, Clara said "You know the thing I asked my mom if I could have some of when you were there yesterday?"
  Natalie 'yes' 
  Clara replied "Was it you who brought that over?
  Natalie" 'yes' "GASP! THANK YOU!( 

  giving Natalie a huge hug.) That kind of bread is my FAVORITE KIND OF MUFFIN!"
• Then Dustin (Natalie's husband) complimented her dress and said it was the prettiest dress he'd ever seen, and she said, "Thanks. Except for this.." and was pulling the neckline out and for some reason looking down at her bare chest. Then she said, "There's something red in here.." and pulled out a little piece of something and looked at it for a second then popped it in her mouth- "Mmm! It's a Swedish Fish!"

4. Clara,"Mommy I am 100% sure about that, except I'm not certain.  I don't really know, but I'm definitely 100% sure"

Surgery this Week!

My surgery is scheduled for this Wednesday, September 5th.  I have done a pretty decent job of not freaking out too much.  I think I've only had a couple of "I'm so scared I can't breathe" moments that I quickly fought back.  I have spent the last two months preparing myself and my family in every possible way for the coming weeks and months.  I didn't get every single thing done, but most of them, and we are in a good place.
As part of my preparation I decided to look into my chronic post nasal drip problem.  Long story short- I am allergic to 10 trees, 5 weeds, and dust mites. Nothing is wrong with my bone structure, nose, or sinuses.  The medicine doesn't help much, but it's something.  Allergy shots or alternative treatments may be in my future.  After my surgery I will not be allowed to blow my nose for 4 weeks or use my neti pot.  I'm a little nervous about that and praying that no colds come my way. So, after 3 doctor. visits for this problem, I'm still at square one with guck dripping almost constantly down the back of my throat, and other annoying side effects.
And I'm ready. I've got my blender.  I've got 5 pounds of Muscle Milk.  I have bran flakes, chia seeds, wheat germ, powdered milk, frozen tomato puree, spinach and fruit.

And the whole surgery is up in the air.  I met with the oral surgeon on Friday for the big meeting- the one where I got to ask my questions. He rescheduled it once because of a problem with an impression, which required an extra office visit for me.  His office called Friday morning and asked to reschedule again and I threw a polite fit.  I said I wanted my questions answered and I didn't want to wait any longer. They agreed that I could still come in to see him.  It's a good thing I did!  When I first was told I needed surgery, it was to expand my jaw.  During  the time I wore the mouth guard and got braces, my teeth have moved  in such a way that I've developed an open bite. This means that when I bite down my front teeth do not overlap at all.  There is a small gap.I cannot bite into food with my front teeth with any success.  I cannot break spaghetti noodles by biting into them.  I have to push soft food against my top teeth and bite harder food with my side teeth.  It's really annoying.  The oral surgeon is planning on fixing this by cutting through my upper jawbone and then shaving some off of the back, bringing the front forward so that I will be able to bite into food. This sounds great! But, that's all he was planning to do.  I asked about expansion.  You know, as in the expansion that three different orthodontists said I needed.  He said I don't need expansion, in his opinion.  He showed me on the model of my teeth.  I could see his point.  My back teeth do match up.  I'm not sure how the front is supposed to be, but he said it was fine.  I'm not even sure if my insurance will pay for it if he does decide to do it because he may have only received pre-approval for the open bite procedure.  The jaw expansion would require a few more cuts and a slightly different after care procedure. I don't really understand how we've been going along since April with this misunderstanding.

My orthodontist is out of the office until Tuesday.  The oral surgeon is out of the office too.  He's going to drive to the ortho first thing on Tuesday morning and have a chat with my orthodontist.  They will decide the fate of my mouth.  I have no idea what is going to happen, but I feel peaceful about it. Maybe I will have expansion, maybe I will not. Either way I'm having a three hour nasty jaw surgery.  Maybe the reason I felt compelled to wait was because I'm not supposed to have the expansion. I don't know.  I just know I feel right about using Dr. Urban.  I carefully selected my orthodontist and my oral surgeon and I am going to trust in their combined expertise.

My teeth will be rubber banded together for 6 weeks.  There's a chance that after a couple of weeks the rubber bands will be loosened and I will be able to open my mouth some.  There's a chance that won't happen.  It depends on if I get both procedures or not.  I do know I'm looking forward to Christmas.  I have another surgery scheduled in November- to fix my pre-existing condition that makes me ineligible for private health insurance.  That surgery will be a cakewalk compared to the jaw surgery- I hope so anyway.

In closing, lest you all feel depressed after reading this, let me conclude by saying that I know absolutely that this is the right course for me.  I feel so peaceful about it.  Yes, I also feel nervous and a little bit afraid, but mostly I feel like I am on the right path.  I am so grateful for all of my body parts that work correctly.  I try to remember how lucky I am that most of my body functions without pain.  My blessings are so vast they are embarrassing.  How many people in the world get 6 healthy, intelligent, fun children?  How many people live in a nice home with electricity, heat, air conditioning, plumbing, t.v., and other conveniences?  In a worldwide perspective, not many.  How many people are lucky enough to have the Gospel of Jesus Christ as a firm foundation for all trials in life?  I'm so fortunate.  I don't know why I have been blessed in mortality with so much more than many of God's children, but I do know that I have an increased responsibility because of my knowledge and blessings.  I know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, that he came to earth and atoned for our sins, that he died that we might be resurrected.  I know that the family is eternal. I know the things I need to do to return to Heavenly Father.  I am so blessed.  As much as this mouth trial has been difficult, it has given me many opportunities to learn and even some chances to bless other people.  I'm so grateful for the blessings that come from trials.  I hope to be up and blogging again soon!

Surgery Jar: Drops of Faith

This is long. At the end, your computer may or may not magically produce chocolate chip cookies.  Probably not, but hey, it could happen! I just have to write this, whether or not anyone else gets anything out of it, I never want to forget.

In the Bible, Jesus Christ taught a parable about ten virgins.  5 of them were wise and had filled their lamps full of oil so that they would be able to wait the arrival of the Bridegroom.  They couldn't share their oil with the others who were unprepared because then none of them would have enough to await the appointed time.  It had to be prepared ahead of time.

I'm feeling somewhat like one of those young girls with a vessel full of oil at this time in my life.  The oil represents faith. Faith is belief in things we cannot see.  In my church we believe that faith without works is dead, meaning that true faith requires action.  We show our beliefs by acting on them, rather than simply stating a belief in Christ, we try to show it by emulating Him and keeping the commandments.  Faith requires works.
So, maybe my connection here is shaky, but it all is related in some strange convoluted way.  I'm not talking about my faith to endure to the end of my life, but the faith I have had to build up to get me through a trial in my life- my big mysterious mouth problem.  Being a medical mystery is a pretty unpleasant way to be different.

Two years ago one of my teeth broke. It had been hurting when I chewed for months but the dentist couldn't find a cavity.  I rushed to the dentist and he filled the hole, telling me I had a cavity in a weird spot that had caused the cusp of my molar to break off. He assured me everything would be fine.  It should have been fine.  But, it wasn't.  For a few weeks I avoided chewing on that side of my mouth because it had hurt for months before the tooth broke and I was afraid it would still hurt.  Not long after I started chewing again, I suddenly developed tooth sensitivity to cold- shooting pain when I ate or drank anything at all cool. It happened overnight.  It was July 5th, 2010.  I had a 7 week old baby,5 older kids, and no health or dental insurance due to a pre-existing condition.

I made another appointment with the dentist.  He told me to use sensitive toothpaste. The sensitivity remained and I developed pain in all of my teeth.  They felt tight.  They hurt a lot.  My chewing muscles hurt.  My ears hurt. The pain was so intense I couldn't focus on anything else.  I thought I needed a root canal.

I asked my husband for a blessing.  Little did I know that this was when my jar for this trial, then empty, was about to require filling, one little drop at a time.  I thought he would bless me to get through the root canal and be calm. Instead I received the most unexpected priesthood blessing of my life.

He blessed me that if I stayed close to the Spirit, I would be led to the different specialists I needed to find people who would help me.   He blessed me that my family and friends would help me through this difficult time.  He blessed me that eventually I would be healed but I would need patience.

I was shocked.  I was upset.  It was not the blessing I wanted.  But, obviously it was what I needed.  As I sit here, just over two years later, still on my journey of healing for my mouth,  I clearly recognize the blessings of that blessing.  At the time though, it was very discouraging. 

I tried to stay positive and not complain.   My mouth hurt constantly.  The dentist made me a mouthguard.

No change.

He put me on motrin, around the clock for 2 weeks. 

No change.

He gave me antibiotics.

No change. 

Over time, the sensitivity decreased, but new symptoms appeared.  My front teeth started to click when I ate, tiny movements against each other.  I began to hit my teeth at random times while talking.  It would result in pain later.  I developed muscle bracing of my chewing muscles and was unable to relax my muscles at all.  They were constantly in knots.  I would wake up in the night with my teeth chattering violently.  Chewing was difficult.  Talking was hard. My lips were tight around my teeth. 

Every morning when I woke up I desperately hoped that the pain would be gone or that it would lessen. 

It never was. 

So, despite my lack of insurance, and at my dentist's suggestion, I sought other options of care.  I went to see another dentist who specializes in TMJ.  He wanted to crown my tooth, grind my teeth down, and give me a mouth guard- all for $2,500.  I balked at the price and the suggestions and decided to keep looking.  It felt wrong. 

I went to a jaw specialist.  For $500, which included a CAT scan of my head, he told me that I didn't have TMJ. After some strange measuring and prodding, he told me I was grinding and clenching in my sleep due to my terrible bite relationship.  WHAT?  He said I needed braces.Malocclusion.  WHAT????????

I had braces when I was a kid. At this point I had spent $1,000 to find out what was wrong with me.

Still, his answer felt right.  I went to physical therapy and learned everything I could do to reduce my clenching and grinding. I made a lot of changes. It did start to help some. The book "The TMJ Healing Plan" was a great resource. I went to see the orthodontist.  He told me I did need braces, but that I also needed a "little" surgery to expand my palate.  The expansion should have been done when I was a kid, using a palatal expander in my mouth.  I'll never know why my orthodontist did not recommend expansion when it would have been so easy and inexpensive to do to my adolesclent jawbone. 

I went to see an oral surgeon.  He explained the whole procedure.  The short story is they are going to cut my top teeth completely off, cut the bone vertically in a few places, and screw it all back together.  Fun! 
And who knew that much in office 3 hour fun filled surgery would come with a $10,000 price tag. 

We couldn't afford it. And something felt wrong.  I decided to trust my feelings and wait.  Waiting and saving felt right. We waited and we saved.  I waited for about a year.

  I was in pain every single day.

 During that time many well meaning friends and family members made other suggestions to me.  My dentist wanted me to go see a specialist in Kentucky.  Several people thought a different dentist could help or a chiropractor.  About halfway through I saw another orthodontist, who agreed with the first, but wanted to fit me with a full mouthguard that was built up to simulate a good bite, in hopes that it would help my mouth "calm down" before the braces.  This idea sounded great, but for some reason I knew I needed to stick with the first orthodontist. So, I kept waiting. 

After a year, I told my husband I couldn't wait any longer. The pain was going to kill me! And I went in and got the braces. 

Holy guacamole!  They hurt so much more than the first time . I literally couldn't chew anything for 2 months.  NOTHING.  Not even a banana or cottage cheese.  I pre-chewed all my food with a fork and knife, and basically swallowed it whole.  It wasn't pretty. Then, things started to get easier. 

My pain started to lessen!

Every time my braces were tightened I couldn't chew for a week, but it wasn't as bad as what I went through before. 

Eventually the muscle pain disappeared.  The other symptoms still remain to varying degrees.  My bite is still terrible-maybe even worse than before.  I haven't had my surgery yet. My teeth click. They chatter at night. I hit them when I talk sometimes.  I can't bite down at all. I've had two more teeth break from nighttime clenching or getting hit in the face by a child.  I've developed an open bite and I have to tear my food with my side teeth.  It's really cute.  I got thrush and my whole mouth was covered with blisters.  Then I had an allergic reaction to my mouthwash and my lips swelled up like Angelina Jolie.  I have the most NOT boring mouth I know!

I don't care though,because for the past several months the pain has been tolerable and I don't think about my teeth every 3 seconds.  Okay, I'm really starting to wind down here.  I know, this is exhausting. Think about how hard it was to live through. After 8 months of braces, I was surgery ready.  I decided to follow the promptings I felt and visited a different oral surgeon.  I never felt right about the first one.  I went to see a new guy- Dr. Scott Urban.  I liked him right away.  He told me he would never let his wife or daughter have this surgery in his office.  If I hemorrhage, the only thing to do is call 911. It's much safer in the hospital.  He personally called the hospital and bargained with them to get a fixed price for everything, including the required overnight stay.  Yes, this is big bad surgery.  The starting price for the hospital was $30,000.  He talked them down to $13,000 and offered his services for $5,000.  I was so grateful, but despite our best efforts, we have only saved $5,000.  We have been paying for my $5,000 braces and Reuben's at the same time, along with all of the other expenses of 6 kids, we had found no way to save any more, and had been hoping to pay off the balance over a year or two.  $18,000 might as well have been a million. 

I couldn't go into surgery knowing I couldn't pay.  It was time to follow the Spirit again.  I talked to somebody and felt prompted to look into Utah's insurance for uninsurable people again.  I had checked it out before and found it to be too expensive and to have a one year waiting period for pre-existing conditions.  It was going to cost me more money than the surgery to do it with insurance.  But, this time, something had changed.  A federal component of the program now exists.  It's called Federal HIP.  It's still really expensive, but I did the math, and found that I would spend $8,000 to get the surgery and any other care I need before January when the deductible and max out of pocket starts again. 

It was just the silver lining I needed.  All along I've had to go on pure faith- taking action as I am led by the Holy Ghost.  I felt right about this path and followed it. 

I applied for the insurance, knowing that the surgery might not be covered.  The phone rep said it depended on my personal case and that a review would take 30-90 days.  Usually I am a big worrier, but I knew this was right and that it would work out.  At the end of May I heard back that I had the insurance. 

I called the oral surgeon's office to begin the review process to try to get the surgery approved. The insurance book I got in the mail seemed to say in one place that my surgery wasn't covered and in another that it might be covered.  I didn't care.  I knew I was doing the right thing, no matter the outcome. 

I waited and waited.  After 5 weeks, just a few days ago,  I called and asked if they had heard. Not yet.

Yesterday, I went visiting teaching and missed a call from the oral surgeon's office.

It's probably a good thing.

When I listened to the message, I had to pull over to the side of the road so I could cry for a few minutes. That would have been embarrassing on the phone with the receptionist.

They were tears of happiness and relief.  My surgery has been approved! 

Wow! It's been a long journey.  It's been a hard journey.  My personal journal is full of honest descriptions of my pain.  I'm so grateful for the reduced pain I have had the last several months.  And I'm ready for the next big step.  The surgery is going to be intense.  I will probably lose some weight.  Woo hoo! ( as long as I don't gain it back plus some more)  I will lose all feeling in my upper teeth and probably lip.  It might come back in 6 months.  It might never come back.  When I am allowed to chew again after 6-8 weeks, it will be difficult with no feeling in my top teeth.  I will look like a freak for a while, yes guys, like more of a freak than I look like now :) .  But, it's okay. 

This journey has been incredible.  I'm so grateful for the roadmap of faith that I received from that one blessing.  It was critical to me to learn at the beginning that I would be responsible to discern the promptings of the Holy Ghost as I was guided in my care.  I had to rise to the challenge or I knew I would never get better.  I have learned more clearly than ever before to recognize those feelings and trust in them completely.  And I am continuing in my trust.  I know this surgery is the right thing.  I know it will help me.  I am ready to move forward. 

Ahh! Finally, I'm almost done with my huge and extremely personal post.  I just want to end with the story of the surgery jar.  Around the time I got my braces, Clara, my 6 year old, decided to do more than just pray daily for me to get my surgery.  She decided to act on her faith.  Clara found a jar and labeled it "Surgery Jar for Mommy".  She placed her birthday money from Grandma Mary in the jar- $4.  It was all the money she had at the time or had seen for quite a while.  We don't pay allowance right now.  This gesture touched my heart as it would anyone.  I thought she might reclaim the money soon, but I was wrong.  Bit by bit, drop by drop, my little children have given me their pennies, nickles, dimes and quarters, plunking them in this jar of hope.  It's really pitiful how little is in there- maybe $8. But, to me, this jar is full of the fruits of faith.  And I'm ready. Sometime in the next two months I will have my surgery and continue my journey.  I pray that it will be downhill from that point, but if it isn't, I can trust in the blessing I received and know that in the end, there will be healing for me.  

Sew Sew

On Monday I broke in my old/new sewing machine and put together a table runner inspired from a pinterest post..

  I caught the sewing bug slowly. Very. Very. Slowly. I was introduced a long time ago. . . .

My mom sews like a pro.  She made us clothes, costumes, tote bags, whatever we wanted.  She fixed our holey jeans and still does if I ask occasionally.

But I never wanted to sew.

They forced me in 7th grade Home Ec..  I made an apron.  I still have it.   

It took forever and had to be TOTALLY perfect.  I got 103.  Yes, as in beyond perfect.

I hated sewing that apron. I think it took about 400 hours.

When I got married my sister helped me sew some matching pajamas as a wedding gift for my husband.  They were so cute!  And they were a big pain.  I don't remember many details, I'm sure I've blocked them.  But, I do remember the buttonholes being super hard.  I used sports themed flannel as a sign of love to my sports crazed fiance from his sports hating intended.  Ahh, the good old days. :)

That pretty much ended my machine sewing career for the next 14 years.  After all, I didn't own a machine and I couldn't afford one.  And I had zero interest in sewing clothes.  My mom remarked the other day that she tried to teach me when I was a teenager . I asked, "Did you try to get me to sew clothes?" She answered, "Probably".  I countered," I still don't want to sew clothes.  I don't know why, but they just don't appeal to me right now."

I'm not opposed to sewing clothes, but it definitely isn't what made me start to want a machine.  I "blame" my sister Rachael for that.  My Mother in law retired this year and for the first time in my marriage is available to tend during they day.  She graciously offered her services on any Monday I need them.  Rachael, always looking to help me improve myself, knew I couldn't say no any longer.  She convinced me to join the Block of the Month Class at Quilts Etc. .  How could I refuse?  It only costs $5.50 for the whole year as long as you always bring your block to the next class.  Rachael made herself and her machines available to me for sewing every month.  And I was off!

It was a crooked start.  It wasn't love at first sight either.
But, it started to grow on me.  I began to make more blocks than required.  I started to experiment with the fabric combos and the patterns.  It felt like a small way of artistically expressing myself.  Sewing is a fascinating combination of creativity, precision, math, and patience.
And slowly, ever so slowly, I started to really want my own sewing machine . I borrowed one from a friend to make it easier for me to finish my blue jean quilt-  a project also courtesy of Rachael's encouragement.

The first day my kids needed some kitty ears for a special day at school.  I grabbed some pink fabric I had on hand and whipped up two pair in about 10 minutes, just in time for them to catch the bus. The next day, Tim needed a rip repaired in his shirt.  It was quick work!

They started to beg my husband to buy me a sewing machine.  But, the timing wasn't right to spend $500 ( to get what I wanted- a used Bernina)  since we are trying to save for my upcoming jaw surgery.  I decided to save on my own and knew I could save up enough in about 6 months of working for my mom once a week.  And if you are still reading, here is your reward. Yep, it's the cool part.  The mushy, spiritual part.  Sorry, that's an integral part of me.

At the exact time in my life when I FINALLY had a strong desire to own a sewing machine, but no way to get one for a while, Heavenly Father called my grandmother home.  She had a heart attack and her kidneys failed.  The doctors couldn't help her and sent her home to die.  While she was still lucid, some time during the nearly two weeks that it took for her to die, my mother asked Grandma if I could have her sewing machine.

She said yes.

It might seem insignificant or chance, but I see the hand of the Lord and His tender mercies in the timing.  Had my desire started a year earlier, I already would have bought a machine.  The desire had to grow inside of me at just the right time.  It was perfect and a perfect testament to me, during a difficult time, that Heavenly Father is aware of me and loves me.

I would give anything to have my grandmother still living, enjoying life and serving energetically.  But it was her time.

Having her Bernina sewing machine here in my home is a little bit like having her tangible love.  My grandmother made so many quilts on that machine. I have no idea how many, but it was a lot.  She made them for all of her grandkids when they married.  She has a lot of grandkids. She made them for children, friends, neighbors, and ward members.  They were all hand quilted.

I never understood, until this year, the amount of work and money that went into those quilts.  The hours and hours of service Grandma Mary put in were her love for us, given one stitch at a time.
 There are so many things my grandma taught me.  I somewhat regret my lack of desire to learn to quilt from her, but the timing wasn't right when I lived near her during college.  Still, seeing  her Bernina on my kitchen table somehow causes the memories to frequently surface- all of the things I did learn from Grandma.  She taught me how to drive when I was 8 months pregnant with my first child. She taught me how to can peaches.  She taught me about repentance and forgiveness and service by how she lived her life.  She frequently counseled young couples to "apologize for your part." in any argument.  She called everybody "Baby" in a way that somehow wasn't annoying.  She took care of people.

And I am going to take care of her machine, and love it, and remember her, and teach my children the things my Grandma Mary taught me. Just seeing me sew is sparking an interest in several of my children and they have been able to complete small projects.  I guess they are more genetically advanced than I was as a kid. Luckily my mom is still around to teach me the things I didn't want to learn when I was young.  I have a lot to learn.

I don't know how long it will be before I can sew on Grandma's machine without crying a little here and there.  But I do know that I will NEVER forget Grandma and the influence she had on my life, from smaller things like bringing me gatorades every day for weeks when I was violently ill with morning sickness to the biggest thing of all- accepting the Gospel of Jesus Christ when my mother was a teenager, the beginning of a great heritage and legacy of her descendants joining and serving in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Grandma, thank you for all of it.

Hiking the Y, Well Almost

Sometimes I have some really good ideas.  They are brilliant! I amaze myself with the ingenuity of my own brain.  And other times I have incredibly stupid ideas.  Sadly, yesterday was one of those days.  I decided to hike to the Y on the mountain in Provo.  My reasoning went as follows:
1. We were going to be in Provo anyway to go to the Bean Museum before it closes for a year + and to eat in the Cougar Eat.

2. I am trying to take my older kids on hikes because it's something my sons enjoy and it's good exercise. So, the little ones have to come on some of them too.
3. Hiking the Y is fun.
4. Hiking the Y can't be that hard.  I did it as a freshman who didn't exercise.
5. When I hiked the Y as a freshman it was WAY easier than when I hiked Timpanogas.  The paths were wide. Heck! You could push a stroller up those paths if you really wanted to.
6. I walk 15 miles a week with no problem, so I thought I could carry Emmeline if needed, like I did on the one mile steep hike we took last week.
7. My kids would be so excited to get ice cream afterwards when they are hot and sweaty.

I did think this out.  We all had hats.  We all had full water bottles.  We had a backpack with bandages. I had moleskin protecting the blister on my heel. We covered ourselves in sunscreen and took really big drinks at the water fountain at the start of the trail.  I did notice my car announcing the temperature as 95 degrees, but I didn't think it would be a deal breaker.  That was dumb.

The hike to the Y on the mountain is 1.2 miles up and 1.2 down.  The path consists of 13 switchbacks, climbing steeply up the mountain, gaining 980 feet in elevation as you go up.  The sites I found said it was easy for young children.  I just didn't factor in the heat.  I've hiked in heat before, but I was young and the trails were fairly flat.  And I didn't have little kids with me.  It was very hot!

So, we began our climb.  It was pretty hard right from the start but the kids were energetic and willing.  I told the boys to go on ahead so they wouldn't feel like they were being held back by the girls.  We climbed and climbed.  Shade was a scarcity.  We stopped at the end of each switchback to drink out water.  Emmeline walked half the time and I carried her half the time.  But, after about 30 minutes I realized that I couldn't continue to safely carry her.  I was too hot.  I felt like I was going to pass out every time I carried her.  We stopped for longer periods. We drank more water.  We fanned ourselves with our hats.  We poured water on our heads.  It was so hot. I told the girls they were strong and they could do it.  We cheered each other one.  We tried so hard.

 Amy failed first.  She just couldn't go on and was threatening to throw up.  I was pretty sure throwing up is a sign of over doing it physically.  But, I was faced with a real dilemma.  My boys were ahead and out of sight.  Would they wait for us at the top?  Or would they come down on their own?  I couldn't risk it.  I had to find them.  This was when things really started to feel desperate and I felt truly dumb for forgetting my cell phone. I found a rock with a tiny bit of shade and tried to create more with my backpack.  I sat the girls down on the rock and told them to stay there and wait for me.  Yes, I left my 9,6,4, and 2 year old children alone on a mountain.  They couldn't make it any further.  I told them I would find the boys and come right back.  The truth was that I was too drained to go on myself, but I had to.

  So, I walked.  And I prayed.

 I prayed out loud on that mountain asking Heavenly Father to watch over my little girls and keep them safe, asking Him to give me the strength to find my boys and to stay conscious, and asking safety for my boys.  I was asking for a lot.  Earlier while walking, two hikers passed us going down.  They had not reached the top.  I should have clued in then, but  I didn't.  We made it about 7 switchbacks before I realized we were in trouble.  Our water wasn't gone yet, but it wasn't enough for what was left. After leaving the girls, I walked about two more switchbacks and stopped, completely exhausted.

There was no shade.

 I prayed some more and started yelling.  When I yell for my boys in the basement from the top of the stairs, they often don't hear me.  I had no idea how far away they were, but I didn't dare get any further from the girls.  So, I yelled as loud as I could, cupping my mouth with my hands and pointing my face up the mountain.  And I yelled and I yelled.  I began to panic.  Then I heard the softest reply, "Mommy!"  The boys came into view higher in the path. They assured me they were okay and wanted to continue to climb.  I told them we were going back down.

I turned to go back and as I walked I heard a voice.  Another hiker!  And he was talking to my girls, naturally wondering where their adult might be located.  He and his daughter stayed with them until I reached them.  They also turned around to go back, having decided that it was too hot.  I was so grateful that he was there. They were the only other hikers on the entire path and they caught up with my girls right after I left them, so they were not alone.
 He went ahead of us and we began the difficult journey back down. It was very slow going. The path was so steep that it had to be taken at a run or very slowly. The girls couldn't run, so we walked very slow and continued to rest.  Amy went ahead to reach the bathroom at the trail head.  When she got there, the man from before saw her without us again.  He left his daughter with his wife, who had stayed behind because she is pregnant, and came back up the trail to find us.
  At this point we had about one switchback to go.  We would have made it- eventually.  But, he looked like an angel nonetheless.  He came back to help us and, with my permission, scooped up Emmeline and carried her down the rest of the way.  Apparently she wasn't in too bad of shape since she managed to scream the whole time about the stranger holding her.

We were finally down! It was 2:45.  I think we were up there for about an hour and a half.  I mentally gave the boys 30 more minutes to come down before I would hunt down a phone to call 911.  Luckily, they showed up just 5 minutes after us.  They had made it to the top and then run all the way down!

I have never sweated so much in my life.  It was 98 degrees by the time we descended. I honestly thought I had wet my pants, but it was sweat.  My entire body was soaked in sweat.  A/C on full blast, we promptly drove to the Creamery and I sent the boys in( due to the embarrassing appearance of my pants, which the man on the mountain saw but politely ignored) to buy two half gallons of ice cream.  I wasn't a complete dolt.  I did bring cups, spoons, and an ice cream scoop.  I'm always prepared for ice cream.  They ate it all in the blessed shade at a local park and we drove home, thankful to be safe and together, thankful for the tender mercies of help that were just enough for us to make it down.

And yes, I've learned my lesson.  No more steep hiking in massive heat with no shade and only one grown up.  I know! It was really dumb! Really, really, dumb.