Our 2 Week Nightmare

Now that I wrote about William's birth story, I have to write about his hospital stay. I wish I could just forget everything that happened. It is still a nightmare to me.

We had so many visitors after William was born. I didn't even get to hold him because he was being passed around like an idol. At this point I had been awake for over 48 hours. I was exhausted. Actually, exhaustion is an understatement.

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was FINALLY my turn to hold William. It was about 1900 hours (around eight hours after he was born). I was holding my precious boy and Sean was taking some pictures. I noticed around that time that William was working kind of hard to breathe. I began to worry. But I stopped my worries just because all the doctor's and nurses had seen him and he was just fine. But I could not help my self, so I kept watching him. Soon I began to count his respirations. He was breathing at about 120 breaths per minute (normal respirations for infants is 30-60). He was breathing so fast that it was hard to even count. I finally had Sean call in the nurse. She looked at him and said, "I'm kind of concerned, I'm going to take him into the nursery."

At that moment, my heart sunk into my stomach. I began feeling queasy and nauseous. I felt as if I couldn't breathe. I followed him into the nursery and began one of the longest nights of my life. I sat there and watched the numbers on his oxygen monitor slowly begin to decrease. I couldn't stop crying. I held his tiny hand and cried and cried. Soon the machine began to beep. "What is wrong with him?"

All the other babies in the nursery were just fine. How come my son had to be the one with medical issues?

Soon the nurses placed some oxygen by his face. One nurse said to me, "don't worry, he'll be just fine. Go and get some sleep."

It was around 2200. I decided she was probably right. Not only had I not slept in over 50 something hours, I was in a lot of pain. I had a terrible vaginal tear, was bleeding heavily and I was slightly anemic. I went back to the room and asked Sean if he'd stay with William. I was able to fall asleep for a couple hours and then called the nurse to take me back to the nursery.

I watched Sean sit next to William. He looked exhausted. William looked even more exhausted. He was still breathing way fast and they started putting oxygen on his face. I stared at him and the tears began to flow. My son. Why did it have to be my son?

Sean gave him a beautiful blessing. But I knew something was not right. I demanded that the nurse call the doctor and get some blood tests and a chest x-ray ordered. The nurse insisted that some babies struggle a little bit at first but then are just fine. I told her that I was a nurse, and that my son did not look "just fine."

She agreed to call the doctor and he ordered the labs and x-ray. I watched as William had this look on his face like he was trying to hold on to dear life. I knew he was working hard to breathe. By time the tests were ordered it was 0300. I was dizzy and sick. I knew I had to go lay down. I woke up Sean and made him watch over William while I slept. Again, I woke up at around 0500. I hurried over to the nursery. William did not look any better.

I asked the nurse if the test results were back. She said she didn't have time to look at them. She hurriedly went to look at them and to my dismay, everything was wrong. His white blood cell count (WBC) was 54,000 (normal is 4,000-10,000). His chest x-ray showed a white-out in his lungs. The nurse immediately called the doctor. I began to panic.

The doctor finally arrived at around 0600. I remember having to go back into my room to change my pad while he did a thorough check-up on my only son. My son that I had waited for for three years. I heard a knock on the door and the doctor entered.

I sat down at the bed and Sean came over to comfort me.

"I'm concerned about your son. He is requiring oxygen and it looks as if he has pneumonia. I am also concerned that he may be in sepsis and/or have meningitis."

I couldn't control my emotions. I sobbed loudly and heavily.

"I am so sorry, but we need to take him to the NICU right now."

Sean wheeled me in the wheel chair to the nursery. I got to hold him as they rushed us down to the NICU. I felt as if the world was closing in on me. I felt as if God hated me. I began feeling mad. Mad at my family. Mad at Sean's family. It was one of them that got him sick! Mad that I didn't get to spend time with him when he was healthy. Mad. Just mad. My heart felt like it was ripping out of my chest. It was the nurse's fault! Why did it take her so long to give him a bath?! She probably didn't give him a warm bath and brought on some chills. Who? It was my fault. I should have showered before I came to the hospital. Why didn't I shower? What happened? Why couldn't it be me that was sick? Why my William? Why did God promise us a healthy baby in the blessing I received when I was pregnant? He lied!

I sobbed and sobbed. I couldn't let him go. He looked at me with his deep eyes. He just stared at me. Almost as if he was trying to comfort me.

Nurses and doctors were ready for us right when we arrived in the NICU. They  began hooking him up to monitors and started asking a bunch of questions. I couldn't talk. I didn't want to talk. I was angry. Why didn't the nurses listen to me?! I knew something was wrong. His rate of breathing increased. It was now up to 140. I couldn't look at him. He was in pain. He was suffering. It was my fault. I couldn't watch him suffer. But I couldn't leave him alone. I was going to lose him. I'd seen God take many away. Many away in my own life. Just two months before, my dear grandfather died. A month before that, it was my uncle. A year before that, it was my aunt, cousin and grandma. I went to two funerals of my infant nephews who died after birth. And immediately I thought of Sean's cousins, who recently had buried their own first born. I felt as if it was inevitable. I was going to lose him.

 I had to return back to my room to change pads. I felt filthy. I hadn't showered in nearly three days. I was dizzy. I was nauseous. I was bleeding like there was no tomorrow. Not only did my heart hurt more then I could bear, but I could hardly sit down due to the pain.

We got upstairs and I collapsed in the hospital bed. Sean laid next to me and held me as I sobbed uncontrollably.

I was able to get up and shower with Sean's help. We went back down into the NICU. They had William hooked up to several cords, tubes, and wires. They began treating him with two different antibiotics.

Honestly, I don't remember the rest of that day. It was a blur. I remember sitting in the recliner next to William's bed. I just sat there. Stoned. I watched his little struggling body. I just sat there.

I got bits and pieces of sleep here and there. They continued to do chest x-rays on William every couple hours along with blood draws. His chest x-rays continued to worsen. However, they already began to see improvement with a decline in his WBC.

I remember being able to sleep on and off. We'd go up to our room and back down to the NICU. I spent every waking minute in the NICU. I just sat and watched William suffer. We were still waiting on his blood cultures and other test results to learn what other course of treatments he would require.

I remember I told everyone on Facebook. My family decided to hold a fast for him. I just didn't know how things could get better. It felt as if they never would. My baby story "dream" was over and this was a complete nightmare. However, I was not alone. People around the globe were praying for my precious son.

It was late when I returned to my hospital room. I remember I was starving. Randomly a snack was delivered to our room. It had fruit and cheese. I was excited but then looked at the name and room number and realized that they delivered it to the wrong person. I called the nurse and she said that they didn't have anyone in the hospital listed under that name. For the first time in a long time, I smiled. The name on the snack was, Eugenia. It was my grandmother's name. My grandmother who died right before I conceived William. Have you ever heard of the name, Eugenia? It is a very very uncommon name. But there it was, sitting on this snack that randomly appeared at my door. My grandma's number one love language was food. That was how she comforted us. Coincidence? No. It was a tender mercy.

The night was slow and Sean and I would go visit William every couple hours. Finally morning arrived. Sunday, July 1st, 2012. The sun was high and I felt rested. I hurried and ate breakfast and we ran down to the NICU.

That morning, they decided he was doing well enough to transfer him to his own room away from the other critical babies. He got his own room. And I was SO grateful to have a quiet place to be with my family. That was another tender mercy. William was off oxygen!

We met William's nurse for the day. She introduced herself as Geni. I looked at her name tag and it took my breath away, Eugenia. Her name was Eugenia. Another tender mercy. At that moment, I knew my grandma was watching out for us. For the first time in two days I began to feel peace. I knew the prayers began to make a difference. 

The doctor discharged me, but spoke with the nurses to arrange a way for me to stay in the hospital room like a hotel while William was still in the NICU. Another tender mercy. I got to stay closes to my son.

Later that day we discovered that William's WBC drastically improved, however his bilirubin levels were still high. So he still had to remain under the Bili lights, but he was doing better. He was healing.

We were told William would have to be in the NICU for 7 days. I was angry that it was going to take so long. This was time I was supposed to spend with my husband at home with our baby. But I was grateful that my son was going to be ok. I knew that angels were watching over him.

The next three days were the longest days of my life. Every hour felt like a month, and every day felt like a year. I was still in terrible pain. I could hardly sit. Yet all I did was sit in that recliner next to William and watch his vital sign monitor. He was given various treatments, multiple IV's, and I worked and worked to get him to breast feed.

Thursday, July 5th. We ran down to the NICU at around 0400 and discovered oxygen was back on William. He had come so far and now he was struggling to breathe again. The nurses began the chest x-rays and the blood tests again. How could this nightmare get any worse? Again, I watched his body and cried. I felt so helpless. And Alone. I wanted to go home with my son! I wanted him better.

There was no more room in the inn. The hospital told us we had to go home. I was devastated. I had to leave my baby the very day when his health began declining again. Sean packed all of our stuff that afternoon. We stayed in the NICU until they closed the unit for shift change at 1900.

Sean wheeled me out to the front of the hospital. It was the first time I had been outside in a week. I sat there in the chair and sobbed so hard I thought my eyeballs were going to pop out. My mom just stood by me with her arm around me. I got into the car and cried the whole way home.

I wrote this on Facebook, "William has not improved. He is still on oxygen and he started having difficulty breathing again. Chest x-ray showed atlactasis in both lungs. Tonight they are keeping him on pressurized oxygen to see if they can reinflate the alveoli. I am at home. No mother should ever have to leave her sick baby in the hospital. I have never felt more scared and alone. Please continue your prayers."

We called several times that night to check on William. I still couldn't sleep. When morning came, even though I hadn't slept, we rushed to the hospital. William had improved, but his respiratory rate was still high.

Sean dropped me off in the morning at the NICU and I felt feverish and sick. I couldn't get warm and I was nauseous beyond belief. My pain was the worst it had ever been. I laid in the recliner and watched William sleep. I was terrified that I was sick and that I wouldn't be able to be with my son due to him being on antibiotics. The nurse brought me some water, warm blankets, and some crackers. I ran to the bathroom and found yellow puss coming out of my stitches and I was in excruciating pain. I sat on the toilet and cried (yes I cried a lot).

I was able to get a doctor's appointment that day and he immediately put me on antibiotics. I had a full-blown infection. The pain was unbearable, but it was also unbearable to be away from my son. Since I wasn't contagious, the NICU allowed me to stay with William. 

I held my precious boy and peace overwhelmed me. I whispered in his hear, "William, get better so I can take you to your real home." 

I changed his diaper and laid him in his cradle while I washed my hands. The nurse came in to do an assessment on him. Suddenly I heard a loud scream and cry. I ran over to William to see if he was safe. The nurse began laughing. She replayed the story to me. 

William had gripped his oxygen with both hands and tore it off his face. It hurt him because the tape had ripped off the skin on his cheeks. The nurse said that William was done with the oxygen and he wanted to go home. I thought to myself, "I have one obedient boy." 

They prepared to release William the next morning, but his respiratory rate was still too high. We went home again without William in our arms. I remember having to wake up every 3 hours to pump because my breasts  were so engorged. Half asleep, I would listen to the purr and hum of the pump. It sounded as if it was saying, "we're at home, we're at home, we're at home." I hated hearing the noise. It felt as if it was mocking me. Stop saying "we're at home." We are not HOME! WILLIAM IS NOT HOME. I'd cry and cry. Sean would   hold me and get me something to eat and would lull me back to sleep. I remember my eyes being so swollen that they ached inside my head.

It was Sunday. 9 days since William was born and we were STILL in the hospital. The nightmare never ended. The doctor was still concerned that William was breathing too fast. She wasn't ready to release him. They ordered oxygen again. My heart sank. He was never going to come home. The social worker saw me in despair and offered to find a way for us to spend another night at the hospital. They had two rooms in the NICU that allowed parents to stay overnight. The room had a bathroom with a shower and a queen bed. It was heaven. The best part was William stayed with us in our room. After 9 days, I finally got to spend the first night with my son.

It was an exhausting night, but the best night ever. William screamed most of the night, but I loved holding him. That morning William was 10 days old, and the doctor released him home on his oxygen. You couldn't wipe the smile off my face. As we were leaving the NICU the receptionist yelled, "see you later!"

I turned with a smug look on my face, "I will NOT see you later. I hope to never see this place again." 

She laughed and we parted ways. 

William was still attached to oxygen and a saturation monitor. The first night when he was home, I just laid there and watched the numbers on his monitor. I had to make sure he was safe. Each day I became more and more concerned. I loved having him home, but something still didn't feel right. He was still breathing too fast.

William saw the doctor Tuesday and Wednesday. Thursday morning I called again because William was breathing too fast again! The nurse seemed irritated. "He is just fine. Babies breathe different than adults, they breathe really fast then slow down."

"My son is breathing at 120 breaths per minute. I have counted them over and over again."

With a sigh she said, "well if your that concerned just bring him into the office and we'll check him out."

Sean and I hurried to the office. The nurse came in and tried to count his respirations. At this point he was breathing so fast that she could barely count them. The doctor came in and had us take off his clothes. She listened to his lungs and counted his respirations  I will never forget what she said, "I am sorry, but there is something wrong with your son. I believe he may have a heart defect or some sort of metabolic imbalance. You need to take your son immediately to the Emergency Room at Primary Children's Medical Center. I will call and let them know you are on your way."

Sean and I hugged and cried in the nursing office. It felt as if our worst nightmare had just begun.

They quickly took us into the ER to speak with the NP and Doctor. Again, I was ready to pass out from so much pain and I was still fighting an infection. They put us in a regular screening room. As soon as we sat down, the doctor entered and said, "follow me quickly and tell me what is happening."

He took us to one of the intensive care rooms with all the huge equipment and gadgets saying, "I need him in here just in case. When children get sick, they get sick really fast."

In between my sobs, I was able to relate William's story. They put on a bunch of monitors and equipment. They did an EKG, several x-rays, and collected several tubes of blood. They placed another IV and started administering fluids. I laid next to William on the bed praying, "please, God, why is this happening?" I prayed and prayed. I didn't understand. I wanted to understand.

They admitted William on the Infant Medical Surgical unit. I hadn't showered. I hadn't slept. My breasts were bulging. I hadn't had any food for over 12 hours. We got William situated and went downstairs to get some food. We called family and updated them with our lack of news.

There was a tiny little chair that folded out into a cot. Sean and I squished on the cot and Sean immediately fell asleep. I sat and watched William's vital sign monitor. I watched as he breathed too fast and as his oxygen saturation's would dip. That night seemed never-ending.

Too my joy, an old friend of mine was William's aide for the night. We talked for a half hour and it lightened my mood. I was able to squish with Sean again and fall asleep.

That morning, they began running more and more tests. Each minute felt like days. Eight different doctor's came in to speak with us. None of them knew what was going on. They were able to ween William completely off the oxygen. I was able to take a shower at the hospital and we continued to eat at the cafeteria. I did not step one foot out of the hospital since we arrived in the ER.

After completing a full work-up, the doctor came in to speak with Sean and I. "We don't know why your son breathes so fast, but it is not life-threatening. He does have a small PFO, but that shouldn't affect his breathing. We want you to follow-up with a Pulmonologist. We can watch him for another night, or if you feel comfortable taking him home you are welcome to do that. I trust you because I know you are a nurse."

That was an easy decision. We went home. 2 weeks worth of doctors and hospitals and we were going home. William was off the oxygen. He was still breathing extra fast, but we were going home. They sent us home in an outfit that said, "brave" on it.

I will never be able to fully describe the love that I feel for my buggy-boo. My love for him goes far beyond anything comprehensible. He is a part of me. More than me. He is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

I still don't know why William struggled so much at the beginning of his life. He is still breathing fast and we are still following-up with a Pulmonologist. They even tested him for Cystic Fibrosis (pics above). To this day, they don't have an answer for William's problems. If he still is struggling in the spring, they want to run more tests. But for now, they are considering him healthy. :D William is a miracle through and through. The IMC NICU doctors said that if we would have taken him home as a newborn, he would have died. But Heavenly Father gave me the knowledge to advocate for my son and he is alive and HOME with me today.

Well, that was a long post. The next posts will be much happier!

The Miracle of Birth

In four days, it will be three months since William was born. I realized yesterday that I haven't blogged about any of the last three months. But most importantly, I haven't blogged about William's birth story. Blogging is my only journal, so it is time to catch up!

After anxiously waiting 41 weeks, the doctor was finally ready to induce me. I was supposed to go into the hospital the night of June 28th, but the nurses neglected to call us. We waited and waited some more. I had never been so miserable. My back was in excruciating pain. I couldn't lay down because I had terrible reflux that caused my throat to burn. I didn't like sitting because my legs would swell. So we bought a nice recliner that gave me a little bit of relief of all my symptoms. After waiting several hours for the phone call, we decided to call them at 1900 hours and let them know I was supposed to be induced that night. They said they were too busy for us and that we should try calling back around 2200 hours. I began bawling my eyes out. How much longer was I going to have to wait? I literally felt ready to explode. But I reminded myself of those who dealt with infertility and were still waiting without any knowledge of when their baby would come. This gave me comfort and I felt grateful. However, I was exhausted. I hadn't slept in over 24 hours and I just  wanted to hold my son...and get a nice dose of pain medication. 

My twin sister, Pamela, discovered that we were stuck waiting for the hospital and she felt terrible. I babysat her one-year-old daughter earlier that day, so she saw how miserable I was. She came over to our home and brought us banana splits. We talked and laughed about the situation and watched food network channel. At 2230 hours, we called the hospital and they told us to call them again in the morning. I was so furious. I finally called the doctor and told him that I was concerned. I hadn't seen a doctor since I was 39 weeks pregnant and now I was a week overdue. He told me to come into the hospital anyway. 

The nurse's were terrible to us. They were so mad we came to the hospital when they already had a busy night. We didn't care. They hooked up the monitor and noticed that I was already having contractions. The doctor wanted to keep me over night to keep a close watch and then eventually induce me in the morning. They gave me some medication to ripen my cervix and left me to wait...again. 

Sean fell asleep on the little bench beside the bed. By this time it was 0100 on June 29th. I sat and watched the monitor and the waves of contractions. No wonder why I was feeling so miserable! The contractions began to get more and more intense and just like the movies, I squeezed the handle of the bed like I was holding on to dear life. I watched as Sean slept and I grimaced through each contraction. I had to go to the bathroom every 20 minutes due to all the fluid the nurse was pumping into me. I felt like I would never get any rest.

Finally around 0330 it became so unbearable that I called the nurse. I grunted through the pain, "I think I'm ready for some pain medication."

She said, "I was wondering when you would call, I have been watching your monitor and you have been having really strong contractions for about an hour.

I was confused, "I was?"

She replied, "Yea, you are in labor, what did you expect?"

I didn't realize that I was in labor. No one told me I was officially in labor. I thought I was just having small braxton-hicks contractions and that I was a wimp! After two useless doses of Fentanyl, I finally gave in to an epidural. In my mind I was thinking, "how does any women have a baby naturally?!" 

I finally yelled and awoke Sean at around 0500. I told him the anesthesiologist was on his way to place the epidural. Sean acted surprised, "wow, you didn't wait very long to get the epidural." I looked at him dumbfounded. He had been sleeping for the last 3-4 hours! He didn't see the pain I was enduring. He saw the look on my face and quickly apologized. The nurse checked me after the epidural was placed and I was dilated at a 4. 

Sean massaged my aching back and we continued to wait. However, I was much more comfortable with the epidural. The next time the nurse checked me at around 0700, I was dilated at a 5. We waited some more and then I started feeling intense pressure. I called the nurse at around 0900 and I was dilated at a 10. She called the doctor and told me we were ready to start pushing. I panicked. My sisters were not there and neither was my mom. I was not ready! Ironically I asked them if we could wait.

My family finally got there, but then the doctor was busy. We waited some more until about 1050.

The doctor finally arrived. We had made our guesses at this point at how big William would be. The doctor guessed 7lbs. No one thought he'd be above 8lbs. But I knew different. I felt him jabbing me in the ribs and pressing on my bladder, I knew he was big. I guessed 8 and a half lbs.

I started pushing. Even though I had an epidural, I could feel my flesh ripping as William began to emerge. I was ready to be done. 41 weeks. I was ready to be a mom. I pushed with all my strength. I had been awake for about 48 hours. But I pushed.

Doctor Thackery said he could see the top of his head. I asked, "does he have hair?"

 

The doctor replied, "it looks like he has dark colored hair."

My sister shouted, "it's not red hair?! Quick, put it back! Maybe it will come out red later." 

We all laughed.

William's head began to pop through, and I heard my mom saying, "Sean, are you alright? Do you need to sit down? I looked at Sean and he was whiter than normal, almost like a ghost. He kind of collapsed into the chair.

Sean replied, "just started blacking out." My mom took his spot by my side.

At 1114, William was born. I couldn't be happier.

 

When I saw him laying on my belly, I just laid there in awe. I starred at him. How could it be that a baby so large could grow from just a tiny egg in nine months? He was perfect. He was absolutely perfect. Ten little fingers. Ten little toes. A chin dimple. He was mine. He was my son. My sweet William.

Sean was able to compose himself and cut the umbilical cord. 

 

 

I just kept starring at him. My miracle.

 

 

Born on June 29th, 2012 at 1114 - 8lbs 6oz, 20.5inches.

 

The moment came and went faster than I wanted. I wished I could just freeze the moment. Stop time and soak in the joy that pierced my heart. All at once, my life held more meaning than ever before. I existed for a reason, to raise a precious son, my precious boy. The love that I felt for William was stronger than any love that I had ever felt. I know it is cliche, but words really can't describe that one moment in time.

As I write this post, I am watching William sleep. Part of me yearns to go back to that joyous moment and relive its excitement and joy. He sleeps so peacefully.

Perhaps the one word that can describe that single moment is "miracle." William began as a tiny fertilized egg and grew to a complex machine that will become an independent human being.

The picture below is William when he was 6 weeks old.

And he became this miracle. Our miracle.
 

I stare at his tiny hands, his beautiful eyes, his cute smile and all I can think is "science can't create or explain this phenomonen. It is simple, there is a God and He is our creator. "

I want to end this blog post with quotes from perhaps my favorite devotional of all times:

 "If you wish to observe a miracle, look at a baby’s creasy hand. Its initial movements are uncontrolled. Shortly after birth it will be able to grasp, curl, push, lift, sense hot and cold, respond to pain by withdrawal, heal itself, display great strength or extraordinary sensitivity. These hands will be used thousands of times each day without aforethought."

 

 

"The doubter requires too much of us when he asks us to believe that the miracles of eyes and hands and DNA and order in the universe all happened by chance. The passage of time, even long intervals of time, is not a “cause” and provides no answers without an intelligent designer."

"The evidence of God’s existence is everywhere: in every newborn babe, in every system, part and parcel of the unending, and orderly universe, including our own bodies. He is evidenced in every sunset, work of art and passage of music, all of which He has provided to gladden the heart and bring beauty to our lives."

 This last quote sums up the experience of witnessing the birth of my son.

“Sometimes when I’m faced with an unbeliever, an atheist, I am tempted to invite him to the greatest gourmet dinner one could ever serve and, when finished eating that magnificent dinner, to ask him if he believes there’s a cook” (Paul Kengor, God and Ronald Reagan [2004], 302)."

I KNOW without a doubt that there is a God, He is our Father and Creator. I know that as I look at my precious William- there is a plan. A Plan of Salvation. A plan that is so perfect that it could only be designed by One who is perfect. I don't have all the answers to life's questions. I do not understand many things about this world. There are things that I will never understand in this lifetime. But there is one thing that I do understand, "Our God is God."


To read more from this devotional, click the link below.
Our God is God
Elder Douglas L. Callister
http://www2.byui.edu/Presentations/Transcripts/Devotionals/2005_11_08_Callister.htm

 

A Major Legacy

The first month of getting my driver's license, one of the places I wanted to visit more often was my grandma and grandpa Major's house. They were special because they were the parents of my dad who had died when I was 12 years-old. Every Thursday night, I'd drive my twin sister and we'd go and visit my grandparents in Salt Lake City. Thursday nights were particularly special because it was a Survivor night. My grandparents LOVED Survivor. Grandma would have the ice cream out to thaw and the TV blaring when we would arrive at the house. There was no talking permitted when the show was on. It was serious. During commercials we'd mute the show and talk about who we didn't like and who was to be voted off. When grandma's favorite players were voted off she'd yell at the TV, "oh c'mon, Rob! Why did you have to vote her off! She was the only honest player!" Grandpa would watch and repetitively shake his head in disappointment. Pamela and I were never particularly interested in survivor, we just enjoyed watching our grandparents watch the show. I always loved Thursdays. I began to build a special bond with my grandparents. They weren't just old people, they were the most incredible old people I had ever met.

It was hard for me to move away to school at BYU-Idaho where I would no longer be able to visit my grandparents on Thursday nights. The first year of school, my grandma would call me late every Thursday night to discuss the night's details of the show. She always made me laugh. She soon discovered I stopped watching Survivor and we found new things to talk about like college boys and her garden. In the meantime I loved hearing grandpa's voice over the phone. He always said the same thing, "How's school? ....That's good. Patricia, you are my special granddaughter and I love you." My favorite phone calls always came on my birthday when in unison both of them would sing the entire "Happy Birthday" song. I loved every second of it.

When Sean and I began dating, I made sure to introduce him to my grandparents. Grandpa immediately loved Sean. They would make jokes about each other's bald heads and enjoyed each other's company. One day, while Sean was in the kitchen with my grandpa, I started asking my grandma what she thought about him. My grandma is a stubborn and very opinionated German woman. Although she is probably only 4'9, she is intimidating! She looked at me and said, "he's a nice guy, but you should serve a mission." I was flabbergasted. I began laughing because I thought she was slightly joking. But she looked at me with those stern stubborn eyes and I knew she was not joking. When Sean and I were engaged, my grandma was happy that I was happy, but still kept saying, "I wish you'd serve a mission." I admired her honesty and her devotion to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

After spending four years in Rexburg and graduating from nursing school, I was ready to move back home to Utah. Sean and I were poor and neither of us had jobs. I knew my grandparent's had an apartment attached to their house where other cousins had lived before. I called grandma one day and asked her if us newly weds could live with her. She immediately said "no!" We continued to talk about it over the next month and she finally agreed we could live there.  However, only on the condition that we lived there for a "long time". I agreed to the condition and Sean and I moved in the day before our wedding. We didn't realize how small the apartment was. The fridge was in the bedroom and there was only a half sized oven. The kitchen was more like a hallway. But we were excited to start our lives together, and I was excited to spend more time with my grandparents.

Here is the only pic I have of the apartment.

We instantly learned to love living in my grandparent's ward. Every Sunday my grandparents would leave to go to church a half hour early. My grandpa was the door greeter and handed out all the programs for Sacrament meeting. One Sunday as we were shuffling in the chapel, I overheard my grandpa talking to two young women. I heard him say something very familiar, "you two are very special young women, you are beautiful and I love you." They gave him hugs and went and sat down. I was kind of shocked. I knew that he said that to me and my sisters, but what business did he have saying it to everyone? I was flat out jealous.

Over the next couple weeks the ward members started to learn that I was the granddaughter of the Major's. I began hearing story after story from several members about my grandparent's kindness and service. The Primary president told me how my grandma and grandpa would call every single person in the ward and sing them the entire birthday song. Once again I was shocked and jealous. I thought they only did that with their family. The Primary president continued to tell me that she had lived in the ward for two years and still hadn't gotten the special phone call. Weeks later she came to me with the biggest smile on her face, "your grandparents sang to me on my birthday! It was the best gift ever." It was ironic to me that something my grandparents have done to me for years could mean so much to a young Primary president.

Other stories included about how my grandma would always bake dozens of cookies to bring to the women in the ward who just had babies. My grandpa was praised about how he was such a wonderful bishop. Stories were told about the hours of service he would give outside of church to certain members who needed help fixing odds and ends. One night Sean and I had a meeting with the Stake president and his wife. They talked to us about my grandparents for over an hour, telling us stories about their legacy. The Stake president solemnly said with tears in his eyes, "your grandparents are the greatest examples in my life. Whenever I feel like I can no longer endure the world, I look to your grandparents and gain strength from them. They know how to endure more than anyone. They are some of the greatest blessings in my life."

I always loved my quirky grandparents, but I never realized their influence on the lives of those outside of the scope of their family. They were truly examples of selfless followers of Jesus Christ.

Grandma and grandpa always planted a delicious garden every summer. Our first summer of marriage was so fun. Often I would wake up to see grandpa sitting on the bench watching over grandma while she gardened. I'd go out and sit next to my grandpa and laugh with him as he made his usual jokes about his bald head. I loved hearing his story about how he met my grandma and how much love he had for her. Sometimes he'd talk about serving in the war and the miracles that occurred to save his life. After each story he would generally bear a small portion of his testimony about his loving Heavenly Father and the truthfulness of the gospel.

Sean and I would also help out in the yard by weeding and mowing the lawns. We were still both unemployed and were working off our rent. One day my grandma knocked on our door. We let her in and she handed Sean an envelope with a check for $40. My 6'4" husband held out the check back to my 4'9" grandma. Sean said, "grandma, we work for you because we owe you rent. Plus we like serving you and grandpa."

My 88 year-old grandma would not take the check back but instead pushed his hand away saying, "you need the money, you don't work!"

I continued to watch the commotion as each of them kept on pushing the check back and forth for several minutes. Sean was starting to get very irritated and she was beginning to turn red. I intervened and gracefully accepted the check. After she left I said to Sean, "what are you thinking fighting with an 88 year-old German woman?! You will NEVER win!"  Sean quickly learned that I was right and above all, my grandma was always right.

After a year of living in the back apartment, we decided it was time to find a place of our own. But my promise I made to my grandma kept haunting me. "We will stay for a long time." We followed the promptings of the Spirit and ended up finding a house a block away from my grandparents and in the same ward. We immediately knew that was where we were supposed to be. My grandma was absolutely livid when I told her we were moving. She remembered, "you said you'd live her for a long time!" I felt awful. I explained to her that we were moving down the street and it made her even more mad, "this is not a safe neighborhood! You can't raise a family here!"

I looked at her and apologized, "grandma, I love you and grandpa and I love being near you. We WILL be here until you are no longer here.We will be here for 'a long time'." It took weeks before she began to get used to the idea that she was stuck with us. We continued to mow her lawns and shovel her sidewalks. Every month we'd get that $40 check in the mail and we'd laugh. She saw us twice a week and she still sent us a check during the summer months in the mail.

After some time my grandfather began getting severe headaches and was no longer able to go to church. It was hard not to see him there greeting us at the entrance of the chapel. I loved being able to still visit. One night Sean and I were out for a walk with our dog. We decided to stop by for a visit. It was Thursday night and survivor! Grandma immediately invited us in and offered ice cream. We didn't want to stay long because we didn't want to leave Fiona trapped outside on the porch.  My grandma absolutely abhors pets and especially dogs. She would tell me all the time how stupid they were and what a waste of money they could be. But she knew it was cold outside and demanded Sean to bring her inside the house. Sean and I were shocked. I don't think there has ever been a dog in their house during their 70 years of marriage. Worried that Fiona would get hair everywhere and jump on grandma and grandpa, Sean politely declined. My grandma insisted. So Fiona came inside the house. Grandpa kept petting her and calling her a "sweet pup." We laughed and enjoyed the rest of Survivor just like old times except with a dog.

Last October during my first couple weeks of pregnancy, I was having some cramping and I was really sick. I was worried that we would miscarry the baby. I wanted a father's blessing. The closest I had to a father was my grandpa. We walked over there one night and my grandfather gave me the sweetest blessing stating, "angels would watch over me and the baby and it would be healthy." Immediately after the blessing my grandpa hugged me and told me that I was pregnant with a healthy baby boy. I laughed it off thinking it was impossible to really know what gender our child was. Sean and I wanted a girl and thought that is what we were having. I was grateful for his blessing and the power of the priesthood.

I remember one Sunday after hearing a baby blessing, I wrote a note to Sean "who do we want in the circle to bless our baby?" Sean and I began to make a list during sacrament meeting. One of the first names Sean put on the list was my grandfather. I turned to him and whispered, "what if grandpa is not physically able to be in the circle?" Sean began to cry and said in a cracked voice, "if we have to bless our child at grandpa's bedside, we will bless him at his bedside. Grandpa WILL be there." I squeezed Sean's hand and hoped he was right.

The first several months of pregnancy were really hard. My grandma would call and check up on me during the middle of every week. There were times when I'd begin to worry about the baby, and Sean would remind me of my grandpa's blessing. Sure enough, at our 20 week ultra sound we discovered we were having a healthy baby boy. Of course I cried. On one particular night I was in a lot of back pain and again worried about the baby. Sean gave me a blessing and again the blessing said, "angels are watching over you and your child." Weeks later when my uncle died, I knew he was an angel watching over us from time to time, but I didn't expect to have my grandpa join him so soon.

One day Sean and I took my grandparents dinner. I was excited to share with them my good news that I had finally found a job. We ate dinner together and chatted. The following week on the first night of my job I got a call saying that grandpa had been taken to the hospital. Immediately my heart sank. All I could think of was that he had to live for three more months to be there for my son's baby blessing. Sean spent the second night with my grandfather at the hospital. He texted me while I was at work, "your grandfather has become my father-in-law and I love him so much."

Grandpa was later transferred to a care facility. This was very wearing on my grandma, however she would still go to be with him every day. We had a schedule where we would take turns driving her to the facility. I got the privilege of dropping her off the day of their 71st anniversary. Grandma walked into grandpa's room and his face beamed. She gave him a sweet kiss. He immediately began to say, "Eva, I love you. I love you, Eva." He repeated the sentence several times. After he calmed down my grandma reminded him that they had been married 71 years to the day. He smiled and said, "wow" and continued to say sweet words to my grandma. I went back to my car and cried. I hoped Sean and I could stay that much in love for 71 years.

My grandma began to get very worried about my grandpa. She wanted to bring him home. He kept telling her things like, "I'm going to die in this ugly place." One day my sister asked me to come talk to the doctor and the nurses. I expressed my grandma's desire to the charge nurse and told her we'd like to take him home.  The nurse got very upset and told us he was not healthy enough to go home. I was very frustrated. His kidney lab values were out of range and some were close to critical. I explained that he was 91 years-old and his kidneys were not going to function perfectly. I also explained that he had kidney problems for several years. She wouldn't listen. I demanded to talk to a doctor. My grandma was upset. My sister just rolled with the punches but she was also very concerned that they were taking forever to let him go home. As I was walking down the hall I had a thought come to my head. It was almost as if a voice had straight out said something to me. I thought, "I need to get grandpa's past history of his kidney functions to show to the doctor."

We were able to get the records to show the doctor. Before the doctor saw his history she was trying to convince us that my grandpa needed to stay at the facility longer due to his poor kidney functions. I gave her the labs and she was surprised and said, "then I don't see any reason to keep him here longer." My uncle, my grandma and I discussed with the doctor about the kind of care my grandpa would need for when he got home. Grandma said to the doctor, "I don't ever want to take him to the hospital again. I want him home." We agreed that hospice care would be the best choice. It was hard for me to swallow that decision. But like always, my grandma was stronger than me. After speaking with the doctor, I knew that my dad and aunt were there whispering in my ear to get my grandfather's past medical history. But in my heart I hoped that it didn't mean he was going to die.

Hospice was wonderful. My siblings were also amazing on how they all took turns caring for my grandpa. My oldest sister took on most of the work and was there with my grandparents several nights and days of the week. Sean would stay with grandpa 1 or 2 nights a week so my sister could take a break. My grandfather loved Sean like his own grandson. Even though Sean was finishing the end of a semester, working full time and taking care of me, Sean willingly went to serve my grandparents. Sean continued to express to me how much he loved my grandfather.

On the night of April 24th, I was at work and Sean was staying with my grandpa. My grandpa kept saying weird things and was acting really different. He was awake and agitated most of the night. Sean continued to send me texts through out the night with updates. I began to worry. My sister asked that I be there after I got off work until my uncle got there in the morning. Sure enough, Sean was right. My grandpa was very confused and kept doing and saying odd things. I began to be very frustrated. I was very pregnant and my back was killing me, plus I had just worked 12 hours. Nevertheless I sat next to my grandpa and held his hand. He pointed to the sealing and said to me, "there is a big pie up there." I laughed and replied, "why don't you go eat it?" He looked at me and said, "no I'm not hungry right now." William was kicking like crazy that morning. I had never felt him move so much before. I wondered if my dad was in the room with my grandpa, but I refused to believe he was close to dying. He had 2 more months to live before William was born.

I went home and tried to sleep. I got a text at 3:00pm saying my grandpa had slipped into a coma and that the nurse had given him 48 hours or less to live. I almost felt numb. I quickly got ready for work and Sean and I rushed over to my grandparents house to say our goodbyes. It was hard to see him in a coma. I couldn't stop crying. I sat next to him and told him over and over again how much I loved him. At one point he slightly turned his head and said, "I love you." Those were the last words I heard him say. I will never forget how it felt to hear him say that to me one last time.

Baby William with his Great Grandpa Major

I was able to get off work early and return to my grandparents house at 3:00am. I walked into the room to find my grandma fast asleep next to my grandpa. They both looked so peaceful and so much in love.

My grandma woke up and left the room. My twin and I sat next to him for an hour and rubbed his head and held his hand (grandpa loved his head massaged because he would get terrible headaches). We talked about our favorite stories of grandpa and how much we loved him. As a nurse, I was pretty sure he still had at least 12 hours left to live. So I left with saying "I love you" and went home.

My grandpa died just 6 hours later. He surprised us all. He didn't go through all the stages of death and decided to leave the world while none of the family was watching. I got to the house a half hour after his passing. Once again it was peaceful. My grandma was still at his side rubbing his head. I couldn't believe that he was gone. Impossible. He was 92 years-old. I thought he would live forever.

We had his viewing on a Sunday and my grandma wasn't ready to return to church. She called me frantically Sunday morning crying, "Trish, I can't find Linnea's phone number. I need to call her to wish her a happy birthday. Will you please find her at church and tell her for me." On all the days to worry about other people, she picked the day of her husband's viewing. I was only able to attend Sacrament meeting. I was too overwhelmed to stay much longer at church. But Sean found Linnea and wished her a happy birthday from my grandma. Sean said that she started to cry. 

I didn't know who Linnea was until Sean described her to me. Just last month I had the opportunity of becoming her visiting teacher. I went and visited with her for the first time and discovered she was a single full-time working mom with 4 very difficult teenage boys and an 8-year-old girl. She talked to me about her struggles and hard times. On several occasions she said she was "barely making it by." I sat there thinking, "my grandma's message must have meant the world to her." I realized why my grandma was so concerned about wishing her a happy birthday. Once again I was amazed at the generosity and selflessness of my grandma.

My grandpa's funeral and viewing was beautiful. I had the honor of singing grandma and grandpa's favorite song at the funeral. It was so hard to say goodbye. All of the talks given were beautiful. Brother Easter gave a touching talk about how giving and loving grandpa was. The bishop told the story about how he came to know the Major's through Sean and me. He talked about how both Sean and I called them our grandparents. He was confused because they couldn't both be our grandparents. He later discovered that my grandma and grandpa may not have been Sean's blood relatives, but they treated him just as though he was. And that Sean loved them all the same because of their great legacy of acceptance and love. The bishop also came to realize that grandpa and grandma had adopted many others in the ward and loved them like family.

The burial was very emotional. The navy was there to salute grandpa and give grandma the flag of America.

I miss my grandpa. I am so excited to see him again along with my earthly father. He has etched a special place in my heart and it reminds me to love unconditionally. I don't understand why William never got to meet grandpa in this life. Perhaps it was because grandpa could watch over William as an angel. I know that when we bless William, my grandfather will be there.

I am grateful that my grandma is still close by. I love talking to her and seeing her twice a week. She and my grandfather have truly carried a legacy of selflessness and love. Sean and I hope to be half the people they are. Our son, William, is named after my grandpa's grandfather. I hope our son will not only carry a name in the Major family, but also their legacy.

A Boy Named William Sean Willardson

Hi Everyone:

I'm going to introduce you to a boy. His name is William Sean Willardson. Or William Willardson. He is between 4-6 lbs and very active. He likes to jump up and down on his mommy's bladder as though it were a trampoline. He also likes to use his mom's ribs like a jungle gym. He enjoys hearing mommy and daddy talk and sing to him.

Right now we are hoping his hair will be red. We hope that he'll be interested in sports and education. We also hope that he will be active in the Gospel of Jesus Christ, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and in sharing the Gospel both before and after he serves a full-time mission.

William received his name after careful consideration by his parents. After two weeks of being married these newlyweds were sitting in church writing down names for their future children. William was one of these names. While they struggled with infertility, they continued to write down names over the next two and a half years.They wrote names down, crossed names off, and thought of more. William was always near the top or at the top of the boys list. The parents didn't want anything popular, for they wanted him to still be unique in name, but they also didn't want some obscure name like Nemtyemsaf. So when they got pregnant with a baby boy, they were excited and soon settled on a name.

In fact, while they were mostly sure they were going to call him William, some people didn't like it. Too much of an alliteration. It sounded odd next to Willardson. It was awful one person commented. This troubled and worried his mommy and daddy deeply. They wanted him not to be teased or stuck on his name.

William's mommy, in particular, is very worried about their comments. Some comments are hurtful. Indeed, she doubts whether this is still a good choice. No matter what the end decision is. She wants them to look past his name and see him for who he is. She wants people to look at his heart, as the Lord does in 1st Samuel chapter 16 verse 7.

"...for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart."

William as a name has a long and illustrious history. You can look at William the Great or William the conquer. Or more recently, William Warner Major or William Fernandez. (William, Prince of Wales is an accidental coincidence. Not a major factor). Incidentally our young William is named after the last two names mentioned, William Warner Major and William Fernandez.

William Warner Major was a talented artist in the 1800s, who was born in England and later came to live in Utah. (http://sites.google.com/site/jkmajor/home). William Fernandez was actually a step-grandfather, who despite having no blood relation stepped in and loved his new step-grandchildren very much. William Warner Major was a pioneer and crossed the plains. William Fernandez was a convert who was faithful and true. Both men are physical and spiritual ancestors of William Sean Willardson.

The parents eventually held a poll in which 36 people voted. William Sean Willardson was not the top choice, but the parents felt very strongly that this was his name. They didn't like the others. They didn't fit him. They weren't right.

Some people say you when know the name when you hold the child in your arm. Well the mother feels rather strongly that she is holding him right now. Doesn't that qualify? I think so. The father knows that this little boy's name is William. If they feel so strongly about it, then does other people's opinions matter? The opinions shouldn't matter.

Needless to say, Anne and I love our little Will Willardson to bits. He is our miracle. Our greatest gift from God as a married couple, besides being sealed.

So yeah, we agree that Will Willardson sounds odd. We are not in denial because we "love" the name William. We have both found this to be the name that is for him. Sure he will be teased for it. From my recollection I was teased for Sean. I was called "seen" on and off for many years. Most people are, have been, and will be teased about there names. This is a fact of life.

We love all our friends and family for their support and care. We are grateful for their advice. We are extremely happy that we even have a baby to give a carefully thought out name.

Sincerely,

Sean

Life, Death, and friends of "GOLD"

This last month has been filled with joy and sorrow.  Today I have two things I want to blog about.  First of all, I have the cutest baby!  Yes I know he is only 5 months old (in the womb), but he is the most precious thing to me in all the world.  We are naming him William Sean Willardson. He is named after Sean's grandfather and my great great grandfather. Both men were extraordinary men and we are excited William will carry their legacy. 

20 weeks!

Boy!!!

Just moments ago I marveled as I watched my tummy move up and down and all around. Baby William is quite the acrobat! Most nights he keeps me awake kicking and swimming. It is the most bizarre sensation! Sometimes when Sean and I are talking, William will give me a random good hard kick! I'm pretty sure he's listening. I try to translate William's kicks to Sean, but he doesn't believe me that I know what baby William is saying.  Probably because William tends to always agree with me and never with Sean. ;-) My son, my beautiful baby boy will soon arrive here on earth.  Yet I already love him so much. William has already begun to change me for the better. As his due date nears, I feel softer, calmer, happier and I desire to work harder. Sean and I are continually grateful for our miracle baby boy. 

The second thing I wanted to write about is my wonderful extended family.  When I chose to attend school at BYU-Idaho, my family kept telling me how wonderful it was that I would be living close to my aunt and uncle Gold in Pocetello, Idaho. During my first year of school my mom and sisters kept encouraging me to visit them. However, I was timid and shy and I didn't want to bother them. One day my aunt Carol randomly called and asked me to come to dinner with her and Bob.  She said that she knew a bunch of students on campus from their New York mission and they were taking them all out to Pizza Hut.  I reluctantly went and when I arrived I was shocked to see my very own roommate sitting at the table. That night I observed my roommate and the other college students laughing and talking with Bob and Carol.  I was jealous that my own roommate had such a good relationship with my relatives.  Back at our apartment she told me story after story about my amazing aunt and uncle. I was proud to be their niece, but sad that I didn't really know them.

Several months later I was having a really hard time at school.  I was lonely and I had just received my blood tests from the doctor stating that I had Polycystic Ovary Syndrome.  This meant that I would have troubles bearing children in the future. I remember calling my mom and bawling my eyes out over the phone.  I could hardly talk because I was so choked up with tears.  My mom calmly said to me, "Anne, get in your car and drive to your Aunt and Uncle's house.  I will meet you there."  It was so awkward to arrive at their home late into the night.  But my aunt and uncle welcomed me with arms wide open.  My uncle Bob calmly asked if I wanted a father's blessing.  Of course I couldn't hold back the tears.  A father. Yes, I wanted a father's blessing.  Something I hadn't had in years.  After his blessing, I felt ready to go back to the real world.  His love was empowering.  He hugged me and gently said, "your father is here with you right now."  At that moment, I felt as if I had two fathers standing with me. 

Over the next couple years, I continued to visit my aunt and uncle. Sometimes I'd stay for the night and other times it was just to go out to lunch.  Bob was always so tender with me. Always so supportive. Eventually when Sean came into the picture, Carol and Bob accepted him as another nephew. We'd often play a good couple games of Scrabble or Upwords.  Bob always came up with the most interesting words that we'd have to challenge him on. Of course, he was always right.  We'd laugh and laugh and laugh.  Bob and Carol would even stay awake past their usual bed time to visit with us.   We'd never leave their house with empty arms.  Often we'd get a box full of food supplies to take back with us to college. When I had my doubts about Sean, Carol and Bob were immediately there to listen.  They gave me their love and told me that even though marriage seemed scary, it was the best thing in the world.  They were right.

Bob and Carol were there during the craziest week of my life!  They drove up to Rexburg to attend my graduation and then three days later they drove down to Utah to be at my wedding.

Even after we were married, we returned to visit my beautiful aunt and uncle.  Once again we laughed til we had tears running down our cheeks. After that last visit, Sean and I drove home and talked about how we wanted to be a couple just like Carol and Bob.

Last October we learned that Bob had a rare form of cancer.  I was heartbroken.  Sean and I continued to pray for him and Carol.  In fact, we found out we were pregnant three days before we heard word about his cancer.  Unfortunately we weren't able to see Bob during his treatments.  This last Friday we learned that he no longer wanted to be treated for cancer.  He was ready to go home.  So today we went go say our last good bye's.

I entered the room where Bob laid and I immediately felt peace.  It was in that same room where 6 years ago he gave me that beautiful father's blessing that I will never forget. Cancer had changed all his physical features.  His hair was gone, he had lost a lot of weight, and he no longer had the welcoming smile on his face. However, his spirit was still radiating light and love. His family was circled around his bed. He was ready to go home. I gave him a kiss and told him that I loved him. I will sincerely miss this giant of a man. I wish I knew him better than what I did.  But what I do know is that my aunt Carol and uncle Bob have become my heros. Always giving. Always accepting. Always listening. Always loving. They are truly friends of GOLD.

In the mornings when we'd wake up at the Gold residence, Carol would prepare us a huge breakfast.  But uncle Bob would always get out his same old multi-grain cereal and with a spoon in hand he'd say with great excitement "mmmm-mmm-mmmm."

Well, Bob, I can see you returning to Heaven with the same expression, "mmmm-mmm-mmmm." 

We continue to pray for Carol and her family at this time.  For we know they will have lost not only a spouse/father, but a perfect friend. A friend that I will never forget.

Sean wrote a sweet letter to Carol and Bob last weekend that I keep forgetting to send. The following is what he wrote:

Dear Bob & Carol,

Well I am writing this letter because a card cannot hold all that I would like to say. Thank you for your love and kindness from the very first time I came through your door. You are both so amazing and represent a true Christ-like attitude. Your abundant charity is an example to follow.

I will be honest I am avoiding the hard part of this letter. I am a private man when it comes to my emotions. I have a hard time expressing them, especially tears. Bob and Carol, I love you! You have been an inspiration to me. An inspiration of a positive attitude and enjoying life. I am so sorry that this evil has reared its ugly head. You are both so precious to me. You became my friends overnight. A rare feat.

Bob, I hope you are still able to enjoy your special cereal. I have always remembered your "mmm...mmm...mmm!" noises that you would make. I want you to know that I wanted you to be there for our baby's blessing. I want you to know that, because you have been there for all our special moments.

As I think of it you and Carol have always been so supportive and kind. You are definitely one of, if not our, favorite aunt and uncle. We love you! We pray for you.

Love,
Sean Willardson

Our Baby Bug

Baby Bug,

Your father calls me his "love bug," so I decided you must be our "baby bug."  Your father also frequently calls me his "cuddle buddy" or "cuddle bug," which would also accurately describe you growing in my uterus.  However, Baby Bug fits just right.  I have no idea how your dad came up with such funny terms of endearment, but I can tell you that we LOVE playing the slug bug game.  And I'm usually the winner! 

This week you are about the size of a cantelope!!  Crazy!

Although you can't be seen on a regular basis, you are heard every moment of the day.  At times my legs will go numb or I'll get a whiff of something unpleasant and begin gagging.  During these moments, I am reminded that you are there inside me.  I am reminded of the miracle of you. 

Daddy likes to kiss my belly and tell you that he loves you. On good days he'll kiss my belly and sing you one of his silly made-up songs. I guess he's trying to get you accustomed to his off-tone voice and his weird lyrics. But however weird they may be, they are a good ingredient to producing laughter.  The other effective ingredient of laughing at your dad's songs is sleep deprivation. You have already done a good job at causing me to get less sleep! With you putting pressure on my bladder, it's hard to get through any night of sleep without a trip or two to the bathroom. I understand that sleep deprivation will slowly get worse as you grow bigger and especially after you are born. However, do not fear! I have learned how to cope well without sleep thanks to nursing school and working night shifts.

In five days we finally get to take a good look at you. Your dad keeps saying, "the only thing I hope the baby inherits from me is my red hair and my height." But I hope you also inherit his compassionate heart and devotion. I keep wondering if you are a boy or girl. Sometimes I think I know you are a girl, but I remind myself that it's impossible for me to know right now. If your not a girl, you are going to have to help us come up with boy names. We really like the name, William, but some people are saying "William Sean Willardson" doesn't go well together. Plus I really don't like the idea of people calling you "Bill" for a nickname. Whoever you are, we will find the right name that will become you.

Recently you have probably met your great grandma Chapman and your great aunt Shirley. Both of these women have changed my life by their kindness and love. Although you may enjoy having them around, I miss them. I especially miss your grandpa Major, my father. I hope you get time to spend with him before you come down to earth. I've learned from these family heroes that life can end at any time. It can also completely change within a matter of seconds. Because of life's uncertainties, it's crucial that we hold strong to our faith and remember the great plan of salvation.

There is a song I heard on the radio by Carrie Underwood that really got me thinking about life and death. It's entitled "Temporary Home."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=if7CZF_ycWQ

The last verse is so poignant and I want to share it with you:

Old man, hospital bed,
The room is filled with people he loves.
And he whispers don't cry for me,
I'll see you all someday.
He looks up and says, "I can see God's face."

"This is my temporary Home
It's not where I belong.
Windows and rooms that I'm passin' through.
This was just a stop,on the way to where I'm going.
I'm not afraid because I know... this was
My temporary home."

This is our temporary home.


For the rest of your life you will be taught by your father and mother. You will hear stories with a moral, you will be caught in moments of teaching, and you will learn. It is your choice of whether or not you will follow those teachings. We hope you are wise and learn from our mistakes and not your own. You will still make mistakes, but you will always be loved. I know you are twenty-one weeks away from making your grand appearance, but I want to teach you a very important lessen before you arrive to live with us.

Even though you will be brought into a loving home with permanent parents, you will be living in a temporary home called Earth. Our real home is back to live with our loving Heavenly Father. Your purpose of coming here is so you can gain a body, be tested, and to be perfected through hard work and the atonement of Jesus Christ. As you seek to become like Him, you will one day be welcomed back into the permanent home of Heaven. This is a lessen you will be taught your whole life.  I want you to always remember it.

Your own daddy is someone who inspires me to be a better person. Your father and I are best friends. We constantly desire to spend time together. And we suffer when we have to be apart. We love talking, laughing, and goofing around. We plan to never be separated. Not here on earth and not in Heaven. He is the love of my life and together we plan on working hard to make Heaven our permanent home.

I want to testify to you that the gospel of Jesus Christ is true.  This life will not be easy.  In fact, I struggle all the time.  There are days where I just want to give-up.  But what keeps me going is knowing that I want to return to be with your grandpa Major, your great aunt Shirley, your great grandma Chapman, and my loving Heavenly Father.  I know that if I work hard, I can return to live with them and stay eternally united with your dad.

I pray that you will arrive into this world without complications. I pray you will have a safe and happy beginning. And although life can seem scary, your father and I will be with you always. And we will teach you the joys life can and will bring. Then together, as a family, we will all strive to live our lives so that we can be forever to live in a permanent home in Heaven.

Always remember you are loved.

I love you,

Mom