Happy Birthday, Katherine

So, I know that these are kind of a mix of pictures, but this has been kind of a mix of events happening lately. We had my brother and his family over from Saint George, Utah, so the last two pictures are of Dallin and Avery. We then went to the Stock Show downtown and saw a whole bunch of animals and had a great time as a family. Although it was very cold that day! Then we had a little birthday party for Katherine at a playdate at my friend's Melissa's house. I made a cake and then all the kids sang and blew out the candles for her, super fun! Then last night Joseph had the opportunity to sing in the Winter Song of Young Voices of Colorado with 199 other 5th graders from elementary schools in the area. They sang beautifully, Joseph did really well, he never gets nervous and the choir sounded great. We will be celebrating Katherine's birthday tomorrow with dinner and then the rodeo (Mike got free tickets through work). We will also do a balloon release at her grave. Happy Birthday my sweet angel, hope its a good day for you.

Just Because

This is one I have to do. It is raw, shocking, gut wrenching, and real. Please proceed with caution, but it needs to be said, I need to say it in the hopes that it may help someone cross the stepping stones in their grief process.

I need to write about what happened the day that I found her. This is something that I have been putting off for awhile, but I know I need to write it. I have already discussed it in therapy, but writing about it makes it more real.

The day began just like any other day. It was the usual busy morning routine. Mike heads to work and then I run around trying to get four kids ready for the day. Katherine was so good that morning, she slept in a bit and then patiently waited for me to feed her. She ate her whole bottle as usual and then I bathed and dressed her. I kept her in the room with us as I finished up getting the girls bathed and then I laid her down for her morning nap. I had cleaned that morning as my parents were coming into town the next day, the house was clean and I was running on a great schedule. The girls had ballet that day and they were all dressed and ready to go. I then took a quick shower and then stuck my head out of my door after getting dressed to make sure that Katherine was not crying. I did not hear anything and then went about getting ready. I called down to the girls and told them to get their shoes on and then get in the van. I put a bottle on to warm to take to the class and feed Katherine there. I then got my shoes on and went upstairs to her room to get her.

I knew as soon as I walked into the room that there was something wrong. The room was cold and dark and it is never cold and never dark. I saw that she was lying face down in the crib. I ran over and picked her up.

Over these last four months, the two most difficult things for me to work through in my mind is finding her and laying her in the casket.

Finding her replays in my waking mind and haunts my dreams in the dead of night. She looked terrible. I have never seen death that up close that personal. She was lifeless, limp, cold to the touch. Her head hung limp to the side. It was her eyes that I will never forget. They were half mast and not moving. I knew in that moment that she was dead, there was no going back, truly she was gone.

My first thought was “No, No, please do not leave me when I have worked so hard to get you here. Please No, Please Come Back!” I then think that I must shake her to wake her up. But, then I think you should never shake a baby. Then there was a quiet voice in my ear that said I needed to call 911, I needed to get help here, help that I could not provide. I ran into my bedroom and laid Katherine on my bed. I picked up the phone, and dialed 911. At this point I just remember screaming her name over and over and over again. There were no tears, only screaming. Finally, the dispatcher calmed me down a little and said “Who is Katherine?” The reply was “Katherine is my baby.” “What is wrong with Katherine?” I then proceed to tell her she is not breathing and not moving, her chest is not rising and falling. The dispatcher then connects me to the fire department, I hear the change on the line, I know that there is someone else listening in. I remember saying “Please help me, Please help me.” The dispatcher then tells me how to give chest compressions, I did so gently. My mind is afraid that if I do it too hard that I will hurt her, maybe even break a rib.

The next thing I remember is hearing men’s voices calling out to me, Fire Department, Fire Department. My response is that I am up here, in the bedroom. All of a sudden there are five men in my bedroom. They are wearing a lot of equipment and seemed almost like giants to me. One of them got me out of the room and guided me into the office.

I then remember standing in the small corner between the book shelf and the window screaming, just screaming as loud as I could. I think had a stopped screaming I would have begun to think about what was real and what was not real. The screaming seemed to be taking reality away from me which is what I wanted at that time.

The fire marshal was in the room with me while I was screaming and trying to calm me down and get me to think strait. He asked where my husband was, my reply was that he was at work. He then asked for the phone number and I am sure I gave him our home phone number and he said he was getting a busy signal. I then really had to think and stop screaming for a moment and then gave him the number. He called Mike and told him what was happening and Mike could hear me screaming in the background. When he heard it was the fire department calling he thought that the house was on fire. My thought was I wish the house was on fire, then that meant my baby was alright. But, the marshal told him that his daughter was unresponsive and not breathing and to come home quickly. Mike then asked which daughter and he was told it was the baby.

The next things I remember were several erratic moments. After the phone call I attempted to go back and check on the baby in my room. I had to check on her, she was all alone and needed my help. I was her mom and needed to be with her. But, the marshal would not let me back into the room. He restrained me by wrapping his arms around me and pulling me back into the other room. He told me that I could not be with her right now that the other firemen were working on her and that I did not need to see that. At the time it was frustrating and annoying to me. But now I know why he would not let me in there. The other four men were placing a tube down her throat and attempting to give CPR, attempting in everyway possible to save her life. Had I seen that it would have been more traumatic for me. It would have been very difficult for me to witness my little baby being handled like that. I know that they were doing everything in their power to save her, but I am a mom and I never stop being a mom and I would have wanted to protect her from them. I would have gotten in their way and hindered their work. That is why I was unable to go back in the room.

The next clear moment I recall is looking out the bedroom window that faces the street and watching them place her into the ambulance and then again attempting to move and wanting to go with her. Again, I was restrained by the strong arms of the wise and I would say inspired marshal. He had me wrapped around in his arms yet one more time. This time he said to me as he spoke quietly in my ear: “You have two little girls in the van who are very scared, who do not know what is going one, you must think of them. You cannot go with your baby; you must stay here with the other girls. That is who you can help the most, your baby is in the best hands possible, and they are providing the best care they can to her.”

This was a wake up call for me, oh, that’s right I have two no wait three other children that I had not thought about since the moment that I had found Katherine. At that moment, there was yet again a quiet voice inside my head that said, “Don’t worry; the girls are being taken care of.”

At that point, the fire department was getting ready to leave and then I was passed over into the hands of the police department. I was given into the care of one of the deputy sheriffs. He at first tried to get me to sit in the living room and begin to talk to me about what happened. The problem was that I could not stop screaming and they wanted to bring the girls in from out of the van. In order to make them feel that they could do that, he took me outside into the back yard. The other deputy took the girls out of the van and began playing Barbie dolls with them as I continued to scream in the backyard.

He began to talk to me and try to get my mind off of what was going on. He asked if there was anyone that I wanted to call. I just could not think of anyone at that moment. He asked where my mother was and I said she lived in Vegas. He wanted to call her and somehow my cell phone turned up. I am pretty sure that one of the other officers must have looked for it in my purse and gave it to him. He told me that he would call my mother and tell her what was happening. He at first asked for my mother’s supervisor and told her what was going on and then asked to speak to my mom. I could hear him tell her about what happened and I heard him say that it was not yet a confirmed DOA.

Upon hearing this, I began to scream again. I believe he quickly hung up with the call and came over to me. At this point I began to feel that I could not take a deep breath. I just could not get enough air into my lungs. My head began to spin and my vision blurred. He attempted to hold and steady me and then I leaned over and threw up into the grass. He just stood there with his arms around me until it passed. I am quite sure that this was one of the most understanding, calm, and compassionate man I ever had the privilege of meeting. Never once did he complain, never once did he seem annoyed, never once did he seem grossed out by the events unfolding. After I threw up, he handed me a tissue (I am not sure where that came from) and then said something very profound to me. His words will stay with me forever. He proceeded to tell me that he had done two tours in Iraq as a Special Forces officer in the army. He had fought in mortal combat twice, he had seen and inflicted death on our country’s enemies. But, what I was experiencing now was as bad as it gets. He had never seen such sorrow, such shock, on the face of a grieving mother until that day when he saw me at my worse.

At this point, a social worker had arrived, and then I was handed off to her. She sat in the backyard with me and I had to recount what had happened. At some point during the conversation, Mike arrived home. She respected our privacy and we were left alone in the backyard. Mike then called our home teacher to let him know what had happened. He just so happed to be at home right then and came right over. Mike and he gave me a blessing while I continued to scream because I had asked the deputy sheriff if there was an update from the hospital and he said that no one had called.

I had known from the moment I saw her that she was gone, but in that moment, he confirmed it for me. I think that is why I reacted the way I did. All the memory brings back for me is seeing myself sitting in a chair in the backyard screaming and Mike and the home teacher holding my shoulders firmly down keeping me stationed and in one place.

After the blessing, I went inside the house, at this point the CSI team had arrived. I had to sign paper work to release the home and all the evidence they had to take with them as part on the investigation. I then sat down and began speaking to someone else that I did not know who it was. She began to question me and asked me to recount the events of the day. About half way through what was about a 45 minute interview, I stopped and said: “Who are you?” She responded that she was the CSI investigator and it was her job to find out what happened and then submit the report. At this point there were about 10 police authorities in my home. They seemed to be milling about and taking random things and asking me random questions. However, I was patient and answered the questions to the best of my ability.

Following the interview, the social worker invited me to come and sit with her on the couch so we could talk again. Several times during the conversation, she referred to someone who was my life couch. I finally stopped her and asked who she was talking about. She pointed to our home teacher and indicated that he must be my life couch. I said no, he is not my life couch, but simply and thankfully my faithful, dear home teacher. She asked if he was my pastor then, I said no, my bishop was like my pastor and he was just my home teacher. I then had to explain to her what that meant, and then found myself explaining what home teaching and visiting teaching meant and how there was a monthly message put out. It was a very strange time to share the gospel, but so it was.

Finally after about two hours, all the investigators left and then we were forced to face the long drive to the hospital. The fire department had taken her to Parker Adventist to the Children’s Emergency Room. Upon our arrival there, our home teacher and Bishop were waiting for us. They took us back and told us what had happened when Katherine arrived there.

We were told that she had never regained any type of heart beat or pulse. She had breathed but that is because she had been in abated and the tubes were breathing for her. They had given her five rounds of dopamine which is a drug designed to jump start the heart. After they had given the maximum amount of the drug, there was still no response; they were forced to declare her deceased. The coroner’s office was waiting there already to take her body back to their facility to perform an autopsy. We were told that we could see her for a moment and then they would have to take her away.

The room in which she lay was dark and quiet. She was lying alone on the bed without any clothes or a blanket. My gut response was to go and get her a blanket because she was cold and needed one. I asked for one and the nurse accommodated quickly. The bishop and home teacher were in the room with us. Mike held her first and began to sob and sob. It was a horrible scene. Even the devil himself who has a heart of stone would have been moved to tears. It was quiet for a while and then the rest of the staff from the hospital came in to answer any questions or offer any support that we needed. At this point, I believe that we were both numb and in utter disbelief as to the events that had unfolded. No one expects this to happen. No one wakes up in the morning and says, today I will loose a loved one, and no one does that.

We all left the hospital feeling sick to our stomachs. The bishop said that he would contact Alice Wheeler and get the ball rolling for funeral arrangements. We then slowly walked to our car. My first thought was well maybe Grandmas and Grandpas will come; it will be a small, quiet affair.

Stepping Stones

So, last night was the first night of the on going grief group that I helped to facilitate at Children's Hospital. The night went really well and the kids always have so much fun playing in the play area with other kids that they know from other events.

To end the meeting, the facilitator read the following poem that I wanted to share. It seems very timely with the birthday coming up so soon. It reads:

The Stepping Stones

Come, take my hand. The road is long, and we must travel by stepping stones. No, you are not alone, I will go with you. I know the road well. I have been there. Do not fear the darkness, I will be with you. We must take one step at a time. But, remember, we have to stop awhile. It is a long way to the other side and there are many obstacles. We have many stones to cross, and some are bigger than others. Shock, denial and anger to start, then comes guilt, despair and loneliness. It is a hard road to travel, but it must be done. It is the only way to reach the other side. Come, slip your hand in mine. What? Oh yes. It is strong. I have held many hands like yours. Mine was once small and weak, like yours; because you see, once I had to hold someone else's hand in order to take the first step. Oops, you stumbled! Go ahead and cry, do not be ashamed, I understand. Let us wait here awhile and get your breath. When you are stronger, we will go on . . . .

One step at a time . . . .

There is no need to hurry. Say, it is nice to hear you laugh. Yes, I agree you shared good memories. Look, we are halfway there now; I can see the other side. It looks so warm and sunny. Have you noticed? We are nearing the last stone, and you are standing alone. And look at your hand . . . .

You have let go of mine. We have reached the other side. But wait, look back. Someone is standing there. He is alone and wants to cross the stepping stones. I have to go. He needs my help. What? Are you sure? Why yes, go ahead, I will wait. You know the way, you have been there. Yes, I agree, it is your turn, my friend. To help someone else cross the stepping stones.

I love you sweet Katherine, may I safely cross the stepping stones to see you again, I am looking forward to that joy my angel.

Just Because

So, here is an entry I wrote about three months after Katherine's passing, it is a true and somewhat raw/emotional account of the events that unfolded following her passing, proceed with caution:

We parted ways with our home teacher and bishop at the hospital with the assurance that the bishop would call Alice Wheeler and let her know that we would need her services.

As we were leaving the building my first and only thought was that we were going to have a small service, maybe the grandparents would be able to make it. Both of our families live far away from Denver and although supportive and caring, do not make it here very often. I had absolutely no expectations of anyone except the grandparents to come. I pictured in my mind that the services would be a simple grave side with a small group of people in attendance. I guess I thought that people would not think it was a big deal and that their lives would be too busy to come support and help. I thought this because that was what has been proven to me in the past. But, a sudden and unexpected death changes people’s lives and perspective. I have come to realize that now.

I do not really remember what we had talked about on the way home. I remember Mike saying he wanted to write some things about Katherine, I said that was fine. Coming home was weird, quiet, empty. I felt sick to my stomach. I felt out of sorts and numb. I could not believe what had just happened. Could Heavenly Father really just taken away my baby? Did it happen? The laundry needed to be put in the dryer, I placed it in there. Then the door bell rang thus beginning what I refer to as the “Open House.” All of a sudden my home went from being a residence for six to a residence of dozens. It was a flurry of people who came by from the ward. There were people in and out in and out. People stayed for hours at a time. Some people came and stayed then went home to feed their families and then returned for the evening. I remember the bishop sitting in my front room for a couple of hours that night. People were milling around the house, in and out of every room. Somehow my clothes were folded and then a lot of Katherine’s things were taken out of the house. Her pack and plays were folded down and many of her clothes were actually removed and I do not know where they went. Her drawers were placed in the closet and all her blankets were folded and placed there as well. I do not really remember people asking me if that was alright, but there were many things that I do not really remember about this part of the grieving process.

By the time my parents arrived around 10:00 p.m. that night, my house was filled to the brim with people from the ward. It seemed that the men were sitting in the living room and the women were sitting in the front room. Neighbors, friends, ward members were sitting in all available space on the floor and on the stairs. My parents arrived and then people cleared out for the night. That night I remember my mom saying to me that my younger brother Reed was very upset about what had happened. He was willing to do anything for me, anything I wanted. That was the first time since the time I found Katherine that it began to occur to me that this event was going to be much bigger that I had originally anticipated.

My brother Reed lives quite far in St. George, Utah. He teaches seminary for the church and I know that he has two other jobs to make ends meet. It would be a huge sacrifice for him to come. It is a long drive up to Denver. I know because I have made that drive more than once. If he was coming, well, who else was coming was my thought. Then that is when my mom who became my advocate, spokesperson, confidant, began to give the list of the people who were planning to come. My head began to reel and I began to start freaking out. How could I possibly accommodate all these people? What would we eat? Who would pay for it? How can I be a good hostess to many family members who have never even seen any of my homes in Denver? Why are they coming when they have never come before? Do they care that much? Is this what death brings about? My utter fear of losing control came to the forefront. These are just some of the thoughts and questions that went through my mind that night. You must realize that I am only referring to my side of the family who was planning to come. These numbers do not count Mike’s family who is larger than mine.

My parents said goodnight and then went to the hotel with the promise of returning the next morning. That first night was like all the nights between finding Katherine and then laying her to rest. When you are grieving the nights are brutal, agonizing, consuming, utterly and completely sleepless. I also had decided to not eat anything as well. I began a week long fast. I ate nothing. I drank only sips of water to keep from being de-hydrated. In my grieving mind I thought that I could not eat because my baby was not eating. As a mother you are accustomed to eating only after the kids eat. I felt like I could not eat until after Katherine ate. But the problem was Katherine was no longer here, she did not have to eat. But I did have to eat, I just could not. The thought of putting food in my mouth made me gag. I simply could not do it. I did not do it until after she was buried. My first real meal was at the lunch following the burial. Then and only then did I feel like I could eat. It took quite sometime for my appetite to return to normal.

The next day dawned and then Alice Wheeler came by to go over some of the beginning of the plans for the funeral arrangements. This is about the time when I began to give up any hope that it would be a small, quiet service. It seemed to me that Mike just took the whole thing over. He made a lot of the decisions and told me what they were. He told me that we were having a viewing and a funeral. He told me what the program was going to be. He told me who was speaking and what songs were being chosen. I felt smothered, buried in shock, disbelief, and grief. I all but gave up. I gave into the demands because I felt like there was no choice in the matter.

We were told that the place of burial needed to be chosen and Mike decided on Fairmount because he drove past it everyday. I consented because there was no choice but to consent. It felt like we could not have a disagreement or a discussion over it because there were too many people around. We just did not have a quiet moment to have any time to ourselves. That made things very difficult.

We then drove out to Fairmount to pick out the plot and pay for their services. During the drive there, we received a phone call from the Coroner’s Office saying that the autopsy was complete and they were releasing Katherine to Alice. We were told that there were no visual signs of the cause of death and no signs of abuse.

I feel like a side story needs to be told here about talking to Alice later that day. After we had gotten back from Fairmount, Alice called and told me that she was holding Katherine. This was very hard for me to hear. This was the first time since the hospital that someone I knew was caring for her. This was a difficult time for me, very transitional. My baby was no longer here, but yet she was here. It was heart breaking, devastating to me as a mother to think about my dead baby being held by a funeral director being driven to the funeral home. Alice tenderly told me that Katherine was being so good, and that she looked really well. Unknown to me prior to this experience, is that after someone dies and the immediate effects of death have passed, they pink up and the coloring becomes better. This is what happened with my beautiful baby. She had pinked up and looked really well, at peace. I sobbed on the phone right along with Alice with this news. It was such a relief to know that she looked better, that she was “feeling” better. I know that her body was at peace, her body was at rest. If my memory serves me correctly, this was the first time I remember crying about what happened to my sweet Katherine.

A Father's Tribute

This poem was written in honor of our angel (Katherine Diane Nelson) by her father Michael J. Nelson. This precious daughter of God was born on January 16, 2009 and was sent home to His presence unexpectedly on June 18, 2009.

Oh Little One!

Oh Little One, so precious and dear

My heart draws out to you and wants you near

You are perfect like the Son

His love surrounds you, until we are One.

Eternal families may we be

Since the Savior died for me

Perfect as you Little One

Is the Great and Holy One!

The Katherine Tree

About a month or so after Katherine's funeral, my uncle came over and planted a very fat and very cute "Fat Albert" blue spruce evergreen soon to be dubbed as the Katherine tree. Cute, petite, blooms year round just like our sweet daughter. (oh, by the way, the really cute little dog is my uncle's dog named Louis, who my kids adore as you can imagine.)

Ugly Sweater Party

I know that I have been doing posts about Katherine which I will continue to do, I promise, but just as a fun side note, here are two pictures from an ugly sweater party that we attended. I am not sure what the glasses were all about, but it sure was a lot of fun.

My Sweet Katherine

So, this post will be short and very sweet, here is the poem that my brother-in-law wrote for Katherine and it was placed in Katherine's program for the funeral. Thanks Sam for your thoughtful, heartfelt words to remember our daughter.

To Katherine,

Little one, so precious and small,
Yet an amazing soul, we barely got to know.
As a daughter, a sister, and a niece you brought us love.
We are family bound together, forever to come.
Now to be encircled with care by those who are past,
We look forward to being with you little one,
Our joy will then be full.

Love, Uncle Sam

Just Because

Here is some more about what I wrote about Katherine's pregancy and delivery:

The idea of Katherine really began before I said it did in my testimony. There were several times I had gone to the temple before and the thoughts that came into my mind were: “Oh, would not a baby be so cute, babies are so sweet and special.” My internal response to those thoughts was always, well they are cute and special, but I am not having another one, I cannot have another one.

Then the fateful day arrived. I again found myself at the temple just sitting in a session minding my own business. Then there is a certain part of the session in which there are mothers mentioned (I know you know which part I am referring to). During that part, there was a quiet voice that came into my mind that said very clearly that there was another baby waiting for me and that I needed to have this child.

Well, in retrospect, as a guest in the Lord’s house one should never be rude to the gracious host, but I could not help myself. In my mind I responded, “I will not, I cannot.” I was told: “You can and you will.” I do not think it wise to ever “argue” with Heavenly Father but that was my gut response.

Mike and I left the temple that night and for several days, I did not say anything about it. Then I could not take it anymore and I began to tell Mike about the voice and what it said. He was not the least bit surprised and began to tell me what the voice had told me and said that he had the same experience and was just waiting for me to say something.

Well, this left me baffled and overwhelmed. After careful thought and prayer, I choose to go forward with the decision to get pregnant. Things happened quickly, and I was pregnant. About 8 weeks into that, the bleeding began and the miscarriage was in full swing. I had to go to the OB and get another D&C. The lab results came back and said that the pregnancy was most likely a tubal one because there was no pregnancy matter in the tissue that was sent in.

I was disappointed, but not devastated. I trudged forward. Then about six months later I was pregnant with Katherine. Truly everything went smoothly, I was not really sick or tired, and I did really well.

The doctors were watching me really close for awhile. Then at about 29 weeks, my blood pressure began to be an issue. It was on a Sunday as things always are when you need to go to the hospital. So, Mike and I went in and I was admitted. They took some blood tests to determine if the complication was serious enough to deliver me. We were told that we needed to prepare ourselves for a pre-mature baby. Into the silence of waiting Mike said that we should name the baby Katherine Diane like we had discussed. We agreed and the name was not brought up again until delivery.

The tests came back alright, my kidney and liver was functioning properly for the time being. I was then placed in a pari-natel room to receive the steroid shots over the next 24 hours to mature the lungs. I had been diagnosed with gestational diabetes and had to receive an insulin shot every four hours in the process of receiving the two rounds of the steroids. The steroids have a tendency to make the sugar levels go through the roof and the insulin was given to counter act that. By the end of the two days the back of my arms were sore from all the shots.

I think that I would like to take a moment to talk about what it is like to be confined to a hospital bed for an extended period of time. It is agonizing. It is devastating. I hate it. My body has a habit of being an early riser by nature which does not bode well while in the hospital. The OB resident wakes you up to do an exam at about 5:00 a.m. and then I am able to drift in and out of sleep for the next hour or so. Then the day begins and one is forced to face many hours of doing nothing but sitting in an awful bed. I would say the very worst part of the many times I have spent in the hospital is the bed. It is just terrible.

I get settled in for the night and then the shift changes and the night nurse comes in to do a stress test. When you are hospitalized for complications with pregnancy they must hook you up to the monitor every 4 hours during the day and then every 8 hours at night. You are on the monitor for about 45 minuets at a time. It is very time consuming and tedious. The night nurse hooked me up to the monitor and then noticed that I was beginning to have contractions. Then the contractions showed that I was beginning to go in labor. Well needless to say that set off several alarms and got several doctors jumping at 12:30 at night. I was wheeled down to the procedure room saying “Do you think I should call my husband?” The nurse quietly said to me, “Well let’s wait and see what’s happening.” This was December and there was about 6 inches of snow on the ground. As I was getting up on the exam table, I said a quick prayer that myself and the baby would be alright. The answer came very quickly and said that “Don’t worry, she is only meant to be a baby.” This was a very strange thought, in my mind I said well of course she is meant to be a baby, she is a baby. But, now I know that was a tender mercy of the Lord again preparing me for her loss.

The procedure goes well and they are able to stop the contractions, things calm down for the night. The next three days I remain there as they adjust the medication for the blood pressure to begin to regulate better.

I return home and about 5 days later I am forced to return due to the blood pressure. This time, it is the week of my birthday and as fate would have it another birthday is spent in a cold and lonely hospital room. The time spent then was about 3 days and I am told that only strict bed rest at home is allowed. We make arrangements for my mom to come the last two weeks of December. Then my mother-in-law comes the first week of January. Mike is then able to take the rest of the time until Katherine is scheduled to be delivered at 36 weeks.

The time spent here at home is long and boring. The days are devastating to me. I am a doer, a worker. I yet again face my greatest fear which is loosing control. The fear of total loss of control looms above me on a daily basis. The amount of medication that is taken is also very fearful to me. I worry about how it is affecting the baby. But, I also feel that there is no choice. I must take the medication in order to remain pregnant. During this time, the doctors are always taking blood work to closely observe how my liver and kidneys are holding up. My veins in my arms become so bruised that they are unusable to draw from them anymore. One vein bursts and bleeds everywhere. The techs are forced to draw from the veins on the tops of my hands but those become bruised as well. Daily insulin shots are required as well. I am forced to set my alarm and wake up at 1:30 every morning to take medication.

Mercifully, the weeks pass by and the day before the cesarean arrived. As already discussed, a blessing is given. Then we farm the kids out for the night and prepare for the next day.

We arrive early that morning, they were waiting for us. I have been assigned by previous planning the most seasoned nurse on staff. She stays with me the whole weekend for all three day shifts. Thanks to nurse Jan for taking such good care of me. Upon arrival and exam, all three doctors who were taking care of me concur that I must go back on the Mag Sulfate after delivery in an effort to save my life. I am told that the blood pressure is so serious and my body so swollen that the chances of my death and the death of my baby are very high and the Mag Sulfate is the only option between this life and the next.

Just Because

So, as I already mentioned I will be sharing some thoughts about Katherine leading up to her birthday. So, I will now share what I wrote to be read during her funeral. I am aware that there were many people there who heard it in person, but perhaps were not able to remember it or fully appriciate the words and thoughts expressed due to the nature of the situation. So here it is:


"For my sweet sister Tiffany to read at the funeral the words that I want said:

It all began I suppose at the temple.

About a year and a half ago, I was at the temple and I was told by the still small voice that there was another child waiting for me and for the family. My gut response was that I could not do it again as I have such health problems with the pregnancies. But the still small voice spoke to me again and I was told that I can and I will.

So, I proceeded forward with the decision to have a baby. I got pregnant quickly and lost the pregnancy about 8 weeks later. Then about six months after that, I was pregnant again with Katherine. The pregnancy went smoothly up until about 29 weeks when I was hospitalized for the first time because of my blood pressure. I then began the revolving door of being hospitalized several more times prior to delivery. Then the time came to deliver her and my husband and eternal sweetheart gave me a priesthood blessing the night before we went in. I was blessed that there would be seen and unseen angels watching over me.

I was then told by the doctors while they were prepping me for the surgery that I would yet again have to be on the same medication that I had been on with my other two deliveries. Prior to going in, I had prayed to my sweet, tender, and kind Heavenly Father that if it was His will to allow the trial of the medication to pass from me.

But, it was not his will; I had to be on the medication. Let me take a moment to describe the medication to you that the Lord has seen fit to inflict upon me three times. The medication is given through an IV. It is designed to shut your body down and leave only the absolute essential organs functioning. So that means for over 24 hours three different times in my life, I cannot take deep breaths as my lungs are not at full capacity. I must be on constant oxygen. I cannot eat or drink anything because if I did my lungs would fill with fluid. I cannot see as it affects the vision to the point that I am almost blind.

During the time that I was on the medication after Katherine’s birth the seen angels were the medical professionals watching over me. It was the kind nurse that came in every 30 minuets all through the night and into the next morning. While I was alone, that is when the unseen angels were with me bearing me up and keeping a close watch over me through that long night that I was confined to my bed. They were close, I testify to that. Perhaps in small moments they were seen and they were familiar faces of the women who love me that have passed on before. I saw the loving faces of my dear and much beloved Grandmothers Brown, Cora, and Romney. They were there as they were there before when I was on the medication with my other children.

Upon leaving the hospital, I was told that I would have to come back if my blood pressure got worse. I went home and it was stressful and crazy. I waited until that night to take the pressure. It was bad and I began to despair. I began to cry and cough which is never a good idea when recovering from a surgery. In that moment of great and utter despair I was granted a beloved tender mercy of the Lord.

The phone rang right at that moment and it was our much beloved home teacher. He was calling and it was late about 9:00. He said that he was leaving work and knew that I was coming home from the hospital and wanted to check up on me. I told him that I needed a blessing. He came right over and worthy priesthood hands were placed on my head. I testify to you that Heavenly Father’s promises are sure. I was promised that my health would improve and it did. I was given exactly what I needed at that moment in time.

Now, I will flash-forward several months and say that since Katherine passed away I have again been granted tender mercy after tender mercy to help me through this. I have been bourn up on eagles wings as Isaiah has promised. I have had angels surrounding me and bearing me up as the Savior promised to our much beloved Prophet Joseph Smith. I have been told that I am not yet as Job, for my friends and family are here to welcome me with open arms and tender hearts.

I can now testify without a doubt that I know the Savior lives and loves us very much more than we know. I know that because I have had the privilege and honor of experiencing that knowledge first hand. I know that he has already felt and bourn my grief long ago in a garden far away. I know that he is the only one that can help me feel better. He is the only one that I can yoke myself to and pull this burden together. I know that the yoke is designed for two strong animals to pull together equally, but that is not the case right now. He is pulling pretty much all of it. But over time, I will be able to pull equal with him. Then and only then I may be able to begin to understand what the Atonement really means.

But in the meantime, I will still go on day by day and when I look up into the sky I will know that my Katherine will be there waiting for me. I look forward to the joy upon seeing her again. I hope that I can be granted yet one more tender mercy when the Savior will say to me: “Well Done, Thou Good and Faithful Servant”."