Remembering My Dad

I don't know how many times I have started this blog post. It's been two years since my dad got sick. I started writing this story when I first found out, but could not bring myself to post it. Now, I feel like I need to tell my story. Because I need the closure. Because I want to honor him. Because holding this story in has hindered me from writing anything else...because it is suppose to be the next story that I write.

Originally I did not post this story because the pain was so fresh and I so desperately did not want it to be true. That pain eventually dulled some, and then my reason for not telling it changed to fear. Fear that I'm not good enough of a writer to adequately express my deep and tender feelings. Fear that I can't adequately honor him or properly put into words how I feel. But I feel like it is time. Time to get it out and move forward, because not telling my story has stifled me in other areas of my life. I'm ready to be a writer again. Bear with me, this going to be long...

I'll start with the blog post I originally started on April 14, 2011. I never posted it because I never finished it. The start of this older post is italicized:

 

It is with a heavy heart that I write this post.

For about 6 months my dad has been having pains in his stomach. For the last three months, he has been seeing doctors trying to figure out what is going on. In early April he had an esophageal ultrasound in which they did find a mass on his pancreas that they felt looked fluid filled and they took a sample to biopsy. The doctor said that he would for sure need surgery to see what was going on. The doctor also said that if my dad had too much pain before they could get the surgery that he could go to the Emergency Room.

Tuesday night (April 5th) my dad was in so much pain that my mom took him to the ER. They had a waiting room full of people, but luckily they took him right in and did an MRI and started him on the pain meds. When the surgeon looked at the MRI he said that he had seen cancer enough to know that's what it was. The doctor said that pancreatic cancer is an aggressive cancer and that he would treat it aggressively by removing his pancreas, spleen, a kidney and part of his stomach. He happened to have an opening on Thursday, so they scheduled the surgery.

Before the surgery, the doctor told my parents that if they found any cancer in the liver, then they would not be able to complete the surgery because once cancer is in the liver there is nothing they can do. 2 1/2 hours into the surgery, everyone was hopeful because the doctor hadn't come out yet, so we thought that meant that everything was ok.

I was at a doctors appointment that morning and I headed straight to the hospital afterward because I wanted to be there with my mom and family when the doctors came out. I got to the hospital and found the waiting area that my family was suppose to be in and no one was there. I headed to the reception desk to ask them, and a doctor stepped in front of me and said to the woman at the desk "They are expecting more people to come, and they are gonna need these" and he handed her a box of tissues. Just then the door opened and I saw my family in that room he had just come from and they were all crying.

 

I remember the confusion I felt as I realized that what that doctor meant was that it was bad news. I remember going into the room and looking into the red, swollen eyes of my family. All they had to say was, "It was in his liver", and I just knew. I fell to my knees and began to sob. No way this was really happening. Not to MY dad. He was so youthful and strong and full of life. After I was able to compose myself long enough to speak, my family informed me that they only gave him 3 to 6 months. That was a hard pill to swallow. Really? That's it?

 

They left us alone to cry and let us sit in that room until dad came out of recovery. Apparently the doctors waited until he was awake and gave him the news before he got to see us. I imagined him laying there in that bed listening to his fate and am sure he must have felt so lonely and broken-hearted. He told the doctors that he had resigned himself to his fate.

 

By the time they let us see him, he was composed and did not look like someone that was just informed that he would soon die. He looked a little tired and sore, but mostly he just looked like our dad. He gathered us all around him in his room and told us that, yes, he was going to die. He told us that he felt he had a confirmation from his Heavenly Father that his illness would be fatal. And in true Jerry Morris fashion, he bore his testimony of the plan of salvation. Then he asked us to "keep our chins up" and try to be happy.

 

I visited him him every day that he was in the hospital. When he went home I tried to get over there at least three times a week. I knew I didn't have much time left with him and wanted to soak up as much of him as I could. For the first several weeks, there was a constant parade of people coming to visit him. He even had friends from out of state come to say goodbye. With every person I saw him visit, I watched him trying to comfort them and tell them it was ok and it was his time to go. He often bore his testimony and kept a positive attitude about his impending fate.

 

He had one on one meetings with each of his kids and grandkids and told us all to remember these eight things:

 

1. Daily Prayer (both personal and family)

2. Daily Scripture study (both personal and family)

3. Go to your church meetings

4. Attend the temple

5. Pay your tithing

6. Obey the Word of Wisdom

7. Obey the law of chastity

8. Have family home evening regularly

 

He promised that if we did those things that we would be able to live together as a family again.

 

I remember preparing a Sunday school lesson that talked about Priesthood blessings. One of the blessings in the lesson was a father's blessing. I cried for all the father's blessings I knew I would miss out on. I drove over to his house and asked him for one final father's blessing. It was such a choice experience that I will always remember with fondness. In that blessing he told me what a "prized treasure" that I am to him. He also said that he was proud of me and that he thought I was a good mom. I cannot find the words encapsulate what that blessing means to me.

 

Easter arrived soon after dad got home from the hospital. We all gathered at my sister Jodi's house to decorate eggs and celebrate the holiday. Some of us ladies were in the kitchen working on the food. I remember looking up at my dad on the chair holding one of the babies and I realized that this would be our last Easter with Dad. We all had a good cry together.

 

Dad was on Hospice care. They put a picc line in him and all he had to do was push a button if he was experiencing pain. As his pain increased, so did his medication. The medication that he was on made him nauseous, and he could hardly eat. It was hard to watch this once strong man weakened by his disease. Looking back, it was a short amount of time from his diagnosis to his death, but watching him be sick felt like it was too long. He patiently endured. We met together as a family every Sunday and visited with dad. His condition deteriorated to the point where he could no longer come out and sit with us, so we would take turns visiting with him in his room.

 

Sometimes the medicine made him have hallucinations and feel loopy, but my dad knew who I was every time I went to visit with him and I was always greeted with a smile. Even when his face showed the discomfort he was feeling, he was always glad to see me and greeted me warmly.

 

His pain got so bad, that we began a family fast and prayed for Dad to be released from his earthly body. It sounds morbid, but when you see someone in that much pain, you just want them to have peace. I was sad to let him go, but he had taught me from my youth that this life is not the end. I KNEW that I would see him again and I KNEW that he was a righteous man and I KNEW where he was going. I didn't want him to hurt anymore.

 

I still remember getting the phone call. It was June 12, 2011 (about 2 1/2 months after his diagnosis)and I was at church. It was my brother, James, and he said that Dad had died. We left church and met my family at my parent's house. I knew before I even went that I needed to see him. I needed that closure. I was not prepared for seeing him that way, but I'm still glad I did. I needed to see that it wasn't my dad anymore. It was just his body and I knew he was gone.

 

Hospice was very gracious and waited until we were ready before taking him away. We all gathered around his bed and had a family prayer and cried together. At one point while we were all visiting one of my brothers made a joke and we were all laughing together, as a family. I remember feeling my dad near and felt like he was pleased that we were "keeping our chins up".

 

When we were ready, the hospice workers very tenderly placed my dad on a stretcher, covered him up and drove him away.

 

On Tuesday, we got to go to the temple as a family. That was a special experience and, again, I felt the presence of my dad.

 

The day of the funeral, we had a viewing at the church and a family prayer before the service. They let us each have one last look and then they closed the casket for the last time. That moment was a tough one. It was so real. It felt so final.

 

My dad had actually planned his entire funeral before he died. He was so prepared that he even recorded a talk and spoke at his own funeral.  What an amazing man! After the funeral my sister-in-law's sister played Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing (which is a song that was already very emotional for me) on the cello while we all followed the casket procession {see the BYU choir perform it here}. Then we all went to the Mesa cemetery for the dedication of his grave.

 

Anyone that knew my dad knew that he was a cowboy. He had spent a lot of time down at "the farm" with his horses and helping out there in exchange for boarding his horses. He loved everyone there, and they loved him. He had arranged a special graveside surprise with my cousins before he died that made a huge impact to all who were there. He had some of my cousins ride by on their horses while a song from  The Man From Snowy River played. Then, the last cousin to ride by led my dad's horse, with nothing on his saddle but my dad's boots and hat. I could not control my sobs as my dad, the cowboy, had his "last ride".

 

 

What a grand finale for a truly great man.

 

The first year was definitely the hardest. That's when you have the first everything without the one you lost. Christmas was especially hard, because it was our tradition to have Dad make us our breakfast with his biscuits he was so good at making. That year as a gift Mom had made quilts that Dad had helped pick out the fabric for (before we knew he was sick). Mom said that they picked red for mine because it looked bright and cheerful like me. That gift is so special to me. It's fun to know that my dad thought of me as bright and cheerful. It's something tangible of him that I have. My mom let me take a bunch of his shirts and jeans that eventually I will pull out and make a quilt out of. Maybe now that I'm finally telling his story I can let myself be free to move on and do that.

 

My dad was a wonderful man. He was friendly to everyone and always had a warm smile. I remember how kind he always was to my friends. I loved how every time he saw me he would say, "Well, it's Miss Julie". I loved how he would seek me out during my teenage years and say "Have I hugged you yet today?". I loved how he would take me horseback riding and then take me to Thrifty for ice cream and he ALWAYS let me get a double scoop. I loved his "Pearls of Wisdom" as he would call them that have definitely come in handy! I loved his dedication to his church callings whether he was bishop or scout leader, he magnified his calling. I love how he loved my mom and would ALWAYS come hug her and kiss her when he got home from work. I loved how much he loved the grandkids and how every child that he ever met loved him. They could just sense what a gentle and loving and kind man he was. I loved his appreciation for nature which he has instilled in me. Whenever I see the mountains or feel a nice breeze or smell the sycamore trees and the river, I think of my dad and how he would always say "look at these beautiful creations our Heavenly Father has made for us".

 

I have felt my dad's presence several times since he passed away. I have felt him in the wind or in quiet moments and I've even felt his comforting presence in the midst of grief. I feel like my dad is still a part of my life, only I can't hug him now. Or hear him. But I know he loves me and he's looking out for me. And he knows I love him and I'm proud that he was my dad. I couldn't have been blessed with a better one!

 

As I write this story, my cheeks are stained with tears and I know I will have a lifetime of missing my dad. I hope that my story was adequate in honoring him. But more importantly, I hope that my life and the way I live it will be adequate in honoring him. When I see him again, I hope he'll say "Well, it's Miss Julie" and tell me how proud he is of me and that I am still a "prized treasure" to him.

One Tough Cookie! {Part II}

Ok, here is the follow-up on the toughest little girl I know…

On October 8^th, we had an ultrasound to look at Ameliah’s gallbladder. And guess what…the stones were completely gone! Not one sign that they were ever there at all! Hallelujah! I was so proud of myself for being so consistent with her nutrition and cleansing. The doctors and nurses are confounded about them being gone. I have heard from a few of them that they have never seen that happen.

 

On October 9^th, we woke up super early and took our little girl to the hospital. They checked us in and it felt like FOREVER that we had to wait. All the while, Ameliah was in good spirits and playful and said that she was excited to have her surgery. I was impressed. What person of any age is excited to have surgery? I figured it was because of how restricted she was because she was on blood thinners. Also, I was very aware that she had a ruptured appendix in her abdomen and I had horrible visions of it becoming inflamed again and causing problems, which would further delay her surgery. Thus, I was super protective and she felt like she missed out on a lot of stuff!

 

About ½ hour before her surgery, a Child Life representative came in and talked to her about what was going to happen during her surgery. She showed her pictures of an operating room and showed her all the machines and things she would see in there. She gave her a little oxygen mask and let her decorate it with stickers. Then she let her pick out a flavored scent that she rubbed on the inside of the mask (because some kids say that the sleepy time gas smells like feet).





 

They let her pick how she wanted to go to the operating room and she chose a wagon. So, they wheeled our little girl away with a smile and a wave.

 

And then the wait began. The doctor warned us that she planned to take her time because of all of the inflammation from the rupture. She thought it might take an hour. An hour rolls by, and still no word. They had a monitor on the wall that listed all the surgeries and their statuses. I was glued to that thing waiting for it to say “in recovery”. Finally, the nurse called from the OR to inform us that it was taking longer than anticipated because she had a lot of adhesions. My obvious response was “What’s an adhesion?” Her reply: “I don’t really know, I’ll let the doctor explain it to you”.

 

I hung up the phone, and of course, I immediately Googled “adhesions”. Turns out, it’s just a fancy word for scar tissue. Apparently, it is really common to have scar tissue when you have abdominal surgery. But, she hadn’t even had her surgery yet, so I wondered why she had these adhesions. Then I remembered that her abscesses “walled off” the infection. The “wall” had to have some type of border, or lining to it. So, even though they drained the abscesses, there was still some tissue left. Ok, thank you Google for clearing up that question. I can calm down somewhat. I kept telling myself that it is a good thing that they are taking so long, it means they are doing their best, right?

Finally, the surgeon came out. Whew. She said it went well and she had pictures for us. I was so excited. (I even considered posting them here, however, I realized that others might not be as interested in seeing my daughters insides as I am, so I decided against it. You’re welcome.) She showed us her gallbladder and said the color looked really good and healthy. She showed us her appendix and the point where it had ruptured. And we saw what caused it. Still inside her ruptured appendix was a ball of constipated stool. It got stuck in there and created this whole problem. Well, her appendix had been laying on her intestine, and this piece of compacted stool had created a pinhole in her intestine. She said it was small and she was able to stitch it and hopefully it won’t cause any problems. Then she showed us pictures of her adhesions. She had some large ones that she had to cut. She said that generally they will just go away on their own, but some of them were so large and in a place that could constrict her bowel down the road if she didn’t remove them.

 

The nurse came out and ushered us to her recovery room where we waited (for a long time) for her to wake up.

 

 

When she did, this is what we saw…

 

That’s right, they took out her two front teeth! The anesthesiologist asked us in her pre-op if she had any loose teeth. Her two front teeth have been super wiggly for a long time, but she wouldn’t let us take them out. They intubated her during surgery and they didn’t want the risk of them coming out during surgery and going down her throat. The tooth fairy showed up before she even woke up from surgery, and she wasn’t sad at all to have them gone.

I love her toothless grin!

 

Even though they consider it outpatient, we still had to stay overnight for observation. We were excited to get to go back to the 7^th floor and see some of the nurses we knew. Shanita, who was our favorite nurse, was there and popped in a couple of times to say hello, even though she wasn’t our nurse this time. Ameliah really liked her and talked about her and even drew a picture of her after we got home from the first hospital stay.

By the next morning, we were so ready to get home. As soon as the surgeon and the doctor cleared us to go, we were asking the nurse for the discharge papers. Ameliah felt so good, she walked all the way to the car by herself. She came home and just wanted to sleep.

 

 

That night, she wasn’t complaining about pain, but we could tell she was uncomfortable. She was very emotional and she started to cry. When I asked her what was wrong, she said that it was hard for her when they wheeled her away in the wagon because she got scared. She thought we would be allowed to stay with her the whole time. I had no idea that she got scared then (she put on such a brave and happy face for us) and it broke my heart to hear her say that she was scared.  I really had to convince her to take her pain meds, but when she finally did she slept comfortably all night. Since then, she has not had one single thing for pain and has not mentioned being scared again, either. The next day she woke up and said “Mom, I feel like I never had surgery at all”. Yay!

 

Once again, we feel so blessed with how everything has turned out. The timing of everything went together perfectly. She got off of her blood thinners on exactly the day she needed to in order to have her surgery on the 9^th, which was during fall break. I wanted to do it then because she had already missed so much school and was going to miss the next week of school for a family reunion. Also, the surgeon said that when she was in there, she could tell that her abdomen was still a little inflamed. If we had done the surgery even a week earlier, it would have been too soon. But, because the compacted stool was making a hole in her intestine, doing surgery later would have caused the hole to be bigger, potentially causing more problems. We know that the Lord has watched over us through this entire experience and we feel truly blessed.

One Tough Cookie!

I would like to introduce you to the toughest little girl I know...her name is Ameliah and she is only 7 years old.



This picture was taken on her 7th birthday

On the week of August 10th we had the stomach flu go around our house. Ameliah got just a touch of it on Sunday, the 12th so I kept her home from church. The 13th was her birthday and she seemed to be feeling better, so I sent her to school. That morning, I took the Barbie cupcakes she requested to her class. She didn't eat a cupcake with everyone, which was not usual for her. Later that afternoon, I got a call from the nurse saying that she had a fever and just wasn't feeling well. Oops, I guess she wasn't feeling better yet.

So I got her home and she was complaining that her stomach hurt and she threw up. I couldn't get her to eat or drink anything and all she wanted to do was sleep. When her fever got high, I would give her Advil. When she wasn't feeling better by Wednesday I was concerned. Todd was out of town so I was doing this by myself. I didn't want to take her to the doctor because I just knew it was the flu and that is a virus and there is nothing the doctor can do for a virus. Well, that afternoon she threw up again and she peed the bed. This little girl NEVER pees the bed, so I got her into the doctor that day.

He looked at her, felt her abdomen and agreed that it was likely just the flu hanging on. He did a urine test in his office and determined that she did not have a bladder infection or urinary tract infection. He said to keep her hydrated and to come back if she didn't get better. I went home and for the next few days I woke her up every fifteen minutes to give her water and Gatorade.

Todd got back in town on Sunday night. On Monday she started to get up and wanted to eat. Yea! Finally, this girl was getting better. But then she would get a fever, or want to go back to bed. Although she showed improvement, we still didn't feel like she was well enough to send her back to school.

On Wednesday, the 22nd, we took her back to the doctor. He checked her abdomen again and again he ruled out appendicitis. But, she had lost 3 pounds since her well visit just a few weeks before. He said that she just didn't look well, so he wanted her to get some blood work done. We left right from the doctor's office and went right to get her labs done. We had to wait until 5:30 that evening to hear back from her doctor. He said that her white blood cell count was at 21 and 12 to 14 is what it should normally be. He recommended that we go to Carden Children's Hospital to have a chest x-ray and other tests done. He thought maybe she had pneumonia that they didn't catch.

Todd and I took her that night at about 7:00 to the Emergency Room. When we got in to the first ER room, a specialist came in right away and felt her stomach. He said that her symptoms sounded like a perforated appendix and that they were not going to do a chest x-ray, but they were going to do a CT scan instead. Wait a minute...perforated appendix? Doesn't that mean a ruptured appendix? I thought you died if your appendix ruptured! He said that often, especially in young children, when the appendix ruptures the body "walls off" the infection.

The next few hours that we waited for her CT scan dragged on forever! She had to drink the liquid and wait two hours for the scan. Finally, she had her scan. We didn't have to wait long before that same specialist came and got us. He showed us her scan on the computer. Sure enough, her appendix had ruptured and had been that way for probably a week! How did this happen without us knowing? I thought when people got appendicitis that they were in a lot more pain than she was. She wasn't screaming and she could walk and talk and eat.

He showed us her abscesses on the scan and said that when the abdomen is that infected and inflamed that they can't do surgery without having to take other things out, too. What they do instead is put drains in the abscesses and leave them there for a few days to drain all the infection that they can. They would also start her on two different antibiotics.

So the next day, they put in one drain in the front and one in her right bum cheek. They also placed a PICC line in her left arm. When she got back from her procedure, an x-ray tech came in and took an x-ray to make sure the PICC line went into the right place. Nope, it didn't. Ok, so what do we do? Well, we pull it back and try again. The only problem was that she was asleep when they inserted it, but now she was wide awake and a little scared. She kept saying that she could hear water. I don't know how many times they pulled back on that line and pushed it back up to her ear before it went the right way. Another x-ray showed that it was in the correct vein, but that is what they call a "midline". Normally the PICC should land right above the heart, but hers did not. Hers ended up under her left clavicle. Again, what do we do now? I was afraid that they would pull it completely out and start over. It's pretty overwhelming for a 7 year old to go through all of this. They decided to leave it since she wasn't going to be fed through the PICC, it was just for her medication.

This was right before her first two drains were placed.

 The next morning, the surgeon came in and informed us that they did another CT scan and she had another two more abscesses that they previously thought were bowel. One was very large and would also need to have a drain put in it. The last one was in a place that they could not get to without going through bowel or colon, and they didn't want to do anything to irritate her already "hot" stomach. So later that day she had another drain put in the one they could get to. They said that hopefully the antibiotics and her body would take care of the other one.

This picture shows her three "grenades". That's
what they called her drains.

We had to wait a long time for her to come out
of her anesthesia.

We got there on Wednesday night and they did not let her eat ONE bite of food until Friday, midday. That was so hard for me. She kept asking to eat and I had to tell my baby "No". You better believe that every time the nurses asked us if we needed anything, I told them to find out when she could eat. They wouldn't even let her drink water. She did have fluids going in through her PICC, but her mouth was so dry and I couldn't give her anything. So. Not. Cool.

She was so sad for the first few days. She did
not want to get up and walk around or go to
the bathroom.

 

Once they let her eat, she was more willing to do what they asked. They told her they needed her to walk around to make sure she didn't get pneumonia. She wasn't in love with the idea, but she did it. The nurse fashioned a loop that we safety pinned to her shirt that the drains could hang from so that they didn't get pulled.

A tender moment with daddy.

 Because she had a "clean" illness, they let her go to the 7th floor which is the Oncology/Hematology floor. They have to keep that floor really germ free because of the children that are on chemo. They also had really cool perks that they don't have on all the rest of the floors. They had a prize room that they let the kids go in to pick a toy for being so brave and enduring so many scary and painful things. While we were in there, Ameliah showed me her left hand. It was swollen. I checked it out and her whole arm was swollen. I showed the nurse and she guessed that it was because she was laying on that side because of the drain that was in her right bum.

Thank goodness she already had an ultrasound scheduled for the next day on her abdomen. While she was in there, they took an ultrasound of her arm and found that she had a blood clot right under her clavicle from her PICC. Are you freaking kidding me?! They did a bunch of blood tests and determined that she does not have a genetic predisposition for blood clots. It was simply a clot caused by the PICC. That day, she had to start getting blood thinning shots twice a day. AND, when she went home, I would have to administer them to her. The nurse brought in some syringes and a sponge for me to practice with.

What else does this little girl have to experience? Well, I'll tell you...they also found three large gallstones. I have never heard of a 7 year old with gallstones. The surgeon on duty said that they would "just" remove the whole gallbladder when they took out her appendix in 6 weeks. I know enough about that to know that there is no way I'm gonna let them take her gallbladder out. I also know that there are ways to pass gallstones.

Hanging out with baby brother Duke. The
hospital gave her this quilt that someone hand
made and donated.

Hanging out with her brothers.

She loved when cousins came to visit.

Going on a walk with Sayler.

This is another handmade quilt someone donated that they
gave her.

She was sad, but after a few days there she was ready for visitors. When they would come, she would light up and look more like the happy girl we know and love. Sayler came almost everyday that we were there. They both really loved their visits.

With Duke and Mom in the playroom.

The hospital has a program called Child Life. They have employees and volunteers. They open the playroom every day and often have activities for the children to do.

Starting to feel better

 

Playroom art project.

 

They had an artist come in one day for a special art project. He showed them pictures of henna art and had them trace their hand and design their own henna art. She had help tracing her hand, but did the rest of this herself! I thought it was stellar work for a 7 year old. The artist said it was among the best he'd ever seen for kids of all ages and they kept it to display in their art gallery. This was a fun distraction for her, because she is already a little artist.

She loved playing in the playroom.

Right after her last ultrasound. There's our
happy girl!

Her last drain came out on Friday, the 31st. Taking the drains out was a scary thing for her. Taking off the bandages over them was really scary for her, too. They were really big and really sticky. I just reminded her to breath and she took it like a champ. They took her PICC line out, too and she had to lay still for half an hour because of her blood thinners.

Finally! After a week and a half in the hospital she was ready to come home!

 

This girl took her shots like a champ! In fact, she started doing them herself. I know I certainly would not want to give myself a shot, but she did it. Now she is off the blood thinning shots and takes one blood thinning pill a day. Which, by the way, she is awesome at! I don't know many kids that can swallow a pill!

 

I was referred to a Nutritionist by a friend who looks at live blood under a microscope. I took her in and we looked at her blood. He recommended she take digestive enzymes and a liver/kidney cleanse. I also bought a fruit and veggie powder that has 8 servings of fruit and veggies per serving. I have been giving her those every day. He was confident that we could get her fixed without having her gallbladder removed.

 

My mother-in-law suggested some foods that would be good for gallstones and my sister-in-law recommended some essential oils to use.

 

Ameliah had a follow-up ultrasound before her appointment with the surgeon. Before we started, I told the ultrasound tech that she had 3 large gallstones. She told me that she was not allowed to tell me anything about whether or not they were improving. She started the US and said, "Who told you she had gallstones?" I told her that she had actually done the last ultrasound and that I saw them. Then she asked what I was doing to treat them. I told her that she was taking some enzymes and a natural cleanse. She left the room when she was done and showed the pictures to the doctor and the doctor sent her back in to take more pictures. She said that the doctor wanted to know what I was doing. She took a few more pictures and left the room. Then she came back with the doctor and the doctor did the US! She could not believe it...two of the gallstones are completely gone! She made Ameliah stand up and she was shaking her around trying to find where those other two were hiding. I was laughing inside, because I'm sure that this does not happen very often! After a few minutes, she finally decided that two of them were gone and the the third one looked like it was breaking in half.

 

We met with the surgeon a few days later and she said that she was fine with leaving the gallbladder alone as long as I am aware of it and will stay on top of it. It feels like such a victory that I was able to find some natural remedies and have her progress so much in such a short amount of time.

 

This week she had an ultrasound on her arm to see if her blood clot is gone. This time we had a different US tech and she showed me where the clot had been. She said that when they are new, they have the possibility of breaking off. When they have been there a while, they get kind of sticky and stick to the vein, which is what Ameliah's has done. She said that it just makes the wall of the vein a little bit thicker. She said that she is getting blood flow through it. I left feeling very encouraged. We have a follow-up with a Hematologist next week. I'm hoping that she will take Ameliah off the blood thinner because I have her surgery scheduled already. If she can get off the blood thinners, then she will be able to have her surgery as planned.

 

When I think about this whole experience, I feel extremely blessed. I know that there are so many things that we are dealing with, but I'm just grateful that we didn't lose her. If her body hadn't walled of the infection, she would have died, because the infection liquefies everything it touches.

 

I'm also grateful to the major outpouring of love and support and prayers we have received and are continuing to receive. So many people have sent gifts or visited in the hospital. The Relief Society had dinners sent over. But the biggest help was from my sweet mother-in-law. She watched the boys for me the whole time so that I could stay at the hospital with Ameliah. I really appreciate her constant support and sacrifices she makes for us. One of the times that Todd brought the boys to the hospital to visit, Cannon told me about how much fun he was having. We are in good hands!

 

Our little girl is so brave and takes it all in stride. She knows that she is going to have surgery and she has accepted it. She knows it will hurt, but she plans to just breath and try to relax through it...

 

...and that is why she is the toughest little girl I know!

Introducing Wilson Duke Conover

The most exciting thing to happen to our family this past year was the birth of our third child, Wilson Duke. Duke was born on October 6, 2010 at 5:26 a.m. and weighed 7 lbs, 8 ounces. Here is his exciting birth story...

We were living in Idaho while Todd was going to Boise State University when we found out we were pregnant. I had a home birth with Cannon and LOVED it, but I didn't feel that our current living situation was the best option for us to do a home birth, so I found a birthing center near our home. I loved it and the midwives and I was really excited to birth there. I planned to have a water birth this time. We needed to have the entire service paid for by the 36th week and we didn't have the money on our student lifestyle. Since Todd was on break for the summer, we decided to come home to Arizona to make some money here and head back to Idaho before we were "grounded" from travelling due to advanced pregnancy.

So we packed up and headed to AZ. On our way home, we decided to take an opportunity that would send Todd to Pittsburgh for a month. The plan was for me to stay in AZ with family while Todd flew to Pittsburgh. I would visit for a week or so and drive back to Idaho with the kids and he was going to return to Idaho on October 6th which was about a week and 1/2 before my due date. Since Cannon was 2 weeks overdue, we figured we had plenty of time.

I did my visiting and started the long drive back to Idaho. Luckily, Tina was moving to Utah and we planned to caravan as far as Utah and then me and the kids would be on our own from there. We got as far as Flagstaff and the car totally died! Like not fixable died (it was fixable but would have cost more than the car was worth). I called my parents and the next day the came to rescue us and towed me back to AZ.

After much deliberation, I came to the conclusion that I should probably just stay in AZ to have the baby. I was heartbroken that I wasn't going to have my water birth at my birthing center with the midwives I had gotten to know. But, all things considered, I figured it was the best option. So I picked my hospital and OBGYN and prepared to have this baby here.

The plans changed with Todd and he was able to come home a little earlier than expected. I had contractions all through the night a couple of times, so I didn't really believe I was in labor when it happened. There was a huge thunderstorm on Tuesday that knocked over a bunch of trees in our area. My contractions started at 3 p.m. that afternoon. I just went about my day as usual because I just knew I still had a few weeks left. We had dinner and watched a movie then we all went to bed. That's when my contractions really kicked in. I couldn't sleep anyway so I got up to read my book. Just for fun, I started tracking my contractions using an application that I downloaded on my iPhone.

Todd came in a couple of times to check on me but I sent him back to bed because I knew it wasn't real labor. He came in somewhere between 3 and 4 a.m. I told him that I thought a warm bath would help so he came downstairs with me and coached me through my relaxation. Then he started suggesting going to the hospital. I kept telling him that we were not going to the hospital because I was not really in labor and I didn't want to get sent home. Besides, our babysitter was out of town and we didn't have a back-up.

By the time Todd convinced me that I was in labor and that we needed to go to the hospital, I didn't want to go, I wanted to have that baby right there in the bathtub. He loaded up the kids in the car and grabbed a small overnight bag I had packed. It really took some work to convince me to get out of the tub, into a robe and into the car. I left without even putting shoes on my feet.

We pulled up to the emergency room and Todd ran in and came back out with a wheelchair and 3 nurses running out behind him. The nurses whisked me off and Todd unloaded the kids and ran in. The woman that admits people looked me over and did not really believe I was in labor because I was so calm, so she took her time asking questions. Todd was very insistent that someone come check on me. The nurse in triage came to get me while Todd met Heather at the front to pick up the kids (thanks again, Heather-you were a lifesaver!). Meanwhile the nurse hooked me up and asked me the standard questions. She also did not know how far along I was. When she finally got around to checking me, she yelled over her shoulder "Call the doctor, she's at a nine!"

That's when I felt the urge to push, so I started to push. Some more nurses came in and they started to transport me to a L&D room. One of them told me not to push and I said "How do you not push?" She showed me how to breath, and I tried it, but it didn't work so I said "Nope, I'm pushing". So I got to my room and Todd was still hung up in admissions. I was starting to worry that he wasn't going to make it in time, but I didn't think I could wait. He got there in time, but the doctor did not, so the nurses delivered the baby. Wilson Duke was born at 5:23 a.m., exactly 15 minutes after we arrived at the hospital. We gave those nurses a run for their money! They said that it is very uncommon to have such a quick delivery, especially with a mother that is so calm.

This is the nurse that delivered Duke.

This is the triage nurse.

Duke was born with blonde, curly hair and he was this red for weeks.

Prepping for his surgery. He was such a brave boy!

Meeting Grandma and Grandpa Conover for the first time.

All dressed up to go home.

He looked so tinsey in his seat.

Duke has been such a cheerful and good baby and he brings such joy to our lives.