My Last Day of Pregnancy

After the reporter left, we felt a huge sense of relief. Charles and I just stood and held each other tight. Jordan's life would not simply pass into some abyss. He would be remembered. He would provide hope to some other family. Jordan definitely had changed our lives and he would be changing many more lives. I got online to tell my friends on the Trisomy 18 website about the success of our interview. I was so excited that things had gone so well. Not just any reporter would be covering it. The editor himself wanted to cover Jordan's time with us.

While chatting with my friends, I realized that it had been a while since Jordan had kicked me. I told them I needed to get off of the computer and go eat some ice cream to see if Jordan kicked back into high gear. I ate a bowl of ice cream and nothing changed. It was almost dinner time and I decided to try eating dinner and see what that did for Jordan. Still no movement, I realized I hadn't felt him move in six hours. I began to become more and more concerned for Jordan's wellbeing.

Charles called the hospital again and they urged us to come in for another non stress test. This time I had all of the stuff we might need but didn't think it would be necessary. I really only thought we needed to check in order to calm my nerves. Charles put my suitcase and Jordan's bag in the car 'just in case'.

We arrived at the nurses station and they put us right into a room and gave me the gown to put on. I went into the bathroom and changed and hurried to the bed to begin the test. After about an hour on the machine the nurse came in and sat down to talk to us. She explained how two weeks ago when we came in, Jordan's heart showed variability. She talked about how his heart rate would go up and down and stayed between 135-145. She said that this was an excellent sign especially for a baby so early in pregnancy.

However, she explained, that today his heart rate showed little to no variability. She told us that today his heart was staying between 143-145. She said that this was very concerning and let us know that we should expect to stay the night. I think that Charles and I were both in shock, though we both thought everything would turn out just fine. Charles went home to let the boys know that we would be staying the night in the hospital and told them to get some sleep. Since they were ages 12-16, it wasn't really necessary to get a babysitter for them. Charles was back to the hospital in just a few minutes. I called Amber and asked her to call around and put our team on stand by.

For some reason the monitor was only working as long as I laid directly on my back. This hurt my hips a lot and to me just seemed unhealthy. I kept remembering when I was in labor with Christopher and his heart rate would go down, they always told me to lay on my side. Every time I tried to roll over to my side, the monitor would beep and the nurse would come in and tell me to lay flat on my back again. I was in agony all night long. At about 3:00 am, I had fallen asleep for maybe ten minutes, when the nurse came running in my room. There was an alarm going off. She looked at the monitor and made sure it was attached my abdomen. Jordan's heart rate dropped down to 80 bpm. It slowly made it's way back up to 143. She informed us that this was a very bad sign. She called this a heart deceleration. It happened again a few minutes later. Charles called his mother and let her know that she needed to start making her way to Redding.

The nurse called the doctor on call and told him what was going on. He told her to call my OB. She called my OB and he was there by 5:00 am. He told us that an otherwise healthy baby would have been delivered by emergency c-section hours earlier. He told us that Jordan would not live inutero for more than a couple of hours and could never survive an induced labor. He told us that if we chose to have a c-section that Jordan would not likely live long because he was so premature. He told us that if we chose to have a c-section that all of my future children would have to be born by c-section as the hospital in Redding does not offer any vaginal births after c-section.

This was so much to consider. Our goal for the last twelve weeks was to hopefully meet Jordan alive. We knew the only way to do this was to have a c-section. We didn't take long to think about this. We told him we definitely wanted a c-section. I couldn't come this far without doing everything in my power to give Jordan the chance to live. Our doctor sat down next to me on my bed, held our hands and prayed with us. This was amazing.

Just then a fire alarm went off and everyone began running in all directions. I called Amber and asked her to call in our team and to go pick up the boys. Jordan was on his way, and it seemed the entire world was waking up early to take part. It wasn't long before our room was bustling. Amber and the boys showed up, Deeda and her husband, Bob were there. Melissa arrived, making our team complete. My boys looked excited and terrified all at once.

Dr Traugott took Charles and Deeda out to get them prepared for coming into the OR with me. He showed them where the NICU was and told them what to expect. Amber and Melissa were in charge of making sure that the boys were ok.

The next few minutes were kind of surreal. I was wheeled into the operating room and there was a flurry of people ready to do their assigned tasks. As Charles and the boys watched me being wheeled away, all of their faces looked desperate. I have never seen them all look so afraid. There must have been fifteen people in the OR working on me in one way or another. Some were preparing for Jordan's care. Thinking of the faces of my family, I laid there and for the first time in twelve weeks, I prayed that God would allow me to live through this, not for my own desire to live, but for them.

After about ten minutes, Deeda and Charles were allowed in. It was time to meet Jordan. Charles leaned in to kiss me and I told him that I had prayed and told God that I was willing to stay here with my family. One tear fell from Charles' face to mine. It was time to meet Jordan.

The last weeks of pregnancy with Jordan

I felt a huge need to be prepared for Jordan's arrival early. I started by assembling a team. Charles who I adore, is a bit squeamish. I wasn't sure he would be able to stay conscious for labor so I enrolled my close friends, Amber and Melissa to be my substitutes. I called Amber "The First Runner Up in case my labor partner was unable to preform his duties" she preferred the title, "Second in Command" and asked for a whistle. We agreed to the change in title but the whistle was out of the question! She agreed to those terms, though I think she secretly hoped to buy a whistle before I was full term and sneak it in!

A local pregnancy and breastfeeding support group was offering free child birth classes. I very much wanted to attend some sort of class with Charles, but the idea of being in a group of giddy first parents when our circumstances were so different was overwhelming. I called and left a message about our special circumstances and asked if anyone would give us a short class. A wonderful doula who had once lost a newborn to a cord accident offered to do the classes with us privately for free. Amber came with us to the class and we all had a really good time. This is one of the very best memories I have of my pregnancy with Jordan. It seemed almost like a normal pregnancy experience, almost as if things were going to be ok. We all took turns saying the words we knew would make Charles squirm like "episiotomy". We watched the birthing movie and watched Charles turn green, good times, good times!

Another coworker, Deeda told me that she had experience taking photos of very sick, dying or stillborn infants and asked me if I would like her to come to the hospital to photograph Jordan for us. I was glad to have her help because I wasn't sure how Amber and Melissa both in their twenties and without having experienced birth themselves would handle photographing Jordan if he died. Deeda also offered her husband's help to be there for Charles if he needed a male support person. Charles was glad for that offer. All four people on our team worked for Child Protective Services with me and were well acquainted with the hospital proceedures and staff. I felt much better having this team in place.

February 26th, I noticed that Jordan's kicks had slowed a lot. Later in the evening, they seemed to have stopped all together. I tried playing music for him and drinking juice and then soda with caffeine to try and boost his energy, but nothing seemed to work. I went to bed hoping to feel him move as he usually did when I laid down.

Charles took the opportunity of my being out of the room to call the hospital and ask if we should come in. They recommended that we go to the labor and delivery wing immediately. He came in to our room and told me we needed to go to the hospital. I was relieved that he was taking this seriously. We told the boys that we would be out for a couple of hours and drove the quick two miles to the hospital.

That short ride seemed like a lifetime as I realized how unprepared I was for way lay ahead for me. What if Jordan had already died? How could I handle going through labor tonight only to say good bye to my dearly loved son. How long would they allow me to hold him? What if I couldn't handle allowing someone to take him from my arms to the funeral home? So many questions, I hadn't even packed my bag yet, I couldn't possibly be losing him today!

Again I brought Jordan's blankie with me. It seemed to provide a lot of comfort when I was scared. Very cautiously, we told the L&D nurses why we were there. Charles let them know that our care plan was in my chart already and that Jordan had Trisomy 18. Surprisingly enough, they had already read our chart and were completely ready for us.

They had a room all prepared for a non-stress test. They had me change into a gown and strapped the sensors onto my abdomen. After about thirty minutes on the machine the nurse came in and told us that Jordan's heart was looking really good. The monitor was able to pick up on kicks that I wasn't feeling. She had me stay on the monitor for about another hour then announced that we could get dressed and go home.

The ride home brought up even more questions and a 'to do' list a mile long. I needed to find a few outfits for him in case he is born soon. I needed to pack my suitcase. I needed preemie diapers. I needed everyone's phone numbers. I was not even close to being prepared for Jordan's arrival. I had a lot to do and didn't know how long I had to do it in. I knew I needed to get busy.

The next day I packed my suit case and went all over town looking for preemie diapers. I finally found some at Toys R Us. I only bought one bag but hoped I would need more. I looked through the few preemie outfits I had purchased and decided on the few I wanted in his bag and packed that too. I emailed and called all of our close friends and prayer warriors to get phone numbers all lined up. I programmed all of the phone numbers into my husband's cell phone.

My Mother in Law came up for a visit and bought us a car seat in case we were given the gift of bringing Jordan home with us. She also bought us two sweet little Precious Moments dolls. One was dressed as an angel and one as a little boy. They both said the "Now I lay me down to sleep" prayer. I put those with Jordan's things knowing that I would want them with us. At last, I felt like things were coming together. The one major thing I hadn't done yet was to contact the funeral home. This seemed unbearable considering that Jordan was still very much alive. I asked Deeda to do that for me. She gathered wonderful information and even found a funeral home willing to donate much of their services. All of these things were finished on March 8, 2005. I was at a special work related 'day away' when Deeda gave me the information about the funeral home.

March 9, we had an interview scheduled with the local newspaper. We wanted Jordan's story told. We wanted other families faced with Trisomy 18 or any other negative prenatal diagnosis to know that termination was not the only option, even if that is the only option their doctors were willing to give them. The reporter wanted to run more than just a one time story. He wanted to follow us through the remaining eight weeks of our pregnancy to document the process of carrying a very sick baby to term. We were glad that he was willing to carry our message of hope to the public.

Something that sometimes comes back to haunt me on dark quiet nights was one of the things I said to the reporter. I told him, "Today I am 32 weeks pregnant. My doctor wanted me to end my son's life 12 weeks ago. Even if today is my last day with Jordan, I know that I had a miracle. I had 12 more weeks than she offered me. Every kick, every hiccup is a miracle, even if it all ended today." I had no idea that would be my last day pregnant with Jordan. I fully believed I had eight more weeks. Why did I say that to him? I know that those words are true, but sometimes I wonder, if I hadn't said those words would I have been given more time?

New Hope

We met with Dr. Williams on January 18 for the first time. He scheduled our first ultrasound for January 28th. He wasted no time. This ultrasound showed Jordan still moving around and looking good in there. His heart was functioning well and his brain looked very good. We began to hope for some time with Jordan. We told Dr. Williams that we were willing to do whatever it took to meet Jordan alive. Whether that meant having a natural childbirth or a c-section, having him early or keeping him in as long as possible. Whatever it took we would do it. Dr. Williams agreed to do his best to help us to meet Jordan alive.

He also agreed to do everything he could to make the remainder of my pregnancy more bearable. He reinstated my half time disability so I didn't have to work full time and offered to put me on full disability. There were a few things I wanted to finish up at work before leaving so for now half time was good. He made sure that I always had all of the Zofran that I needed. For the first time in months I actually gained weight! Dr. Williams scheduled extra times for us to hear Jordan's heartbeat, and extra ultrasounds to enjoy the time we had with him.

I met friends online who had given birth to children with Trisomy 18. The stories all made me cry, but they also gave me hope that I could survive this. I often read their stories and would try and picture myself dealing with the things ahead of me. I couldn't imagine myself walking into the hospital knowing that I was going to be induced and not knowing if my son would survive the process. I couldn't imagine myself finding out that my son had died inside of me and then going through the birth process only to pass his lifeless body from within me. I couldn't see the possibility of burying my son. I pictured myself walking away from his grave. I didn't think I could force my legs to move. I didn't think I could picture myself holding him after he died. How could I touch his lifeless body? The more I read other people's stories the more I was certain I could not accomplish the task set before me.

For the next few weeks, I spent about half of my time worrying about what lay ahead and the other half trying to bond with my unborn son knowing that this was most likely the only I time I would have with him. I read stories to him and talked to him all of the time. We had a second ultrasound. This one was a 3-D image. The photo attached to this post is from that ultrasound.

On January 31st, we met with Dr. Traugott, the head of pediatrics at Mercy Medical Center. He sat with us for over an hour while we talked about what we wanted for our baby. He prepared a care plan that expressed our desire to give Jordan every chance we could while not resorting to extreme measures that would prolong his suffering. Dr. Traugott arranged for us to have as much privacy as possible while in the hospital. He also made it possible for our friends and family to have almost unlimited access to Jordan. This is very unusual for the NICU. To our relief, we were on the same page with Dr. Traugott. His gentle demeanor and loving care convinced us that God has sent an angel to answer our prayers.

Although we knew the condition was serious, we continued to pray for our baby. We prayed for complete miraculous healing. We prayed that the birth defects would not be as severe as some of the babies we had read about. We prayed that God would allow us to meet our son and to kiss his head and get to know him. We prayed that he would live to meet his younger brother or sister before going home to Jesus.

We prayed daily (and sometimes several times each day) from the day we received the diagnosis until our son was born. The only way we could survive this experience, we decided, was to press in to God and rely on Him for our strength and courage. During this time, we came to believe that every moment we were allowed to have with our son was a blessing. Thanks to the help of our good friend, Don Ostendorf, we agreed to stop grieving our loss until the appropriate time came.

Our son was with us each day and that was a reason for celebration. We began to cherish every kick and jump, every hiccup, and every stretch. We would praise God for the time we were given no matter how brief it may be.

We cried a lot and we laughed a lot. That is a good description of our life together, but during this period, the good times seemed unbelievably happy and the bad time were unbearably dark.

The Fight for Healthcare part two

Even just sitting down to type this installment is painful. This next leg of my journey with a Mother's heart is the one that I thought would kill me. In fact I even prayed for death to come, that seemed preferable to the life that was in front of me. When I have heard people say that they prayed for death to come. I thought that the human need for survival alone made that impossible. But I learned that there are things worse than death. There are things that would make a person pray for death.

When I was seventeen weeks pregnant my doctor ordered some routine tests. She said there was a test she recommended to women my age. It was called the AFP or Alpha Fetal Protein test. She didn't really describe what the test was looking for or how accurate the results would be. She only told me that it was routine. She handed me a little booklet about pregnancy with "Advanced Maternal Age" which was defined as any woman over the age of 35. I was 36, so I fit into this group. I skimmed the book. It listed many ailments I had never heard of. Well, it doesn't hurt to be safe right? Why not go ahead with the test. She also recommended a level two ultrasound which could only be done in Chico or Sacramento. We scheduled that in Chico for December 9th.

My biggest concern was how could I keep 16 ounces of water down for the ultrasound? I was still losing weight due to the HG and hadn't worked in more than a month. December 8th we got a call that our AFP had come back positive for a condition called Trisomy 18. I had never even heard of Trisomy 18 so this phone call was a bit confusing. They explained that the test showed we had a 1 in 19 chance of having a baby with Trisomy 18. Doesn't mean that it is 18 times more likely that our baby was fine? I read the paragraph in the booklet they had given me about Trisomy 18. That was a bit scarier. It described a condition that was fatal. Well, good thing my baby had an 18 times better chance that everything was fine. The doctor told us that the ultrasound the next day should give us a clear indication of how our baby was doing. She said that the physical deformaties associated with trisomy 18 would almost always show up on an ultrasound. My husband and I cried ourselves to sleep that night, though we kept insisting that we were sure our baby was just fine.

December 9, we had our level two ultrasound. We were told we were having a little boy! We were thrilled. We had decided at the beginning of our pregnancy that our baby would be named Jordan whether he was a boy or a girl. Now we knew, he was a little boy. The ultrasound looked perfect. The genetic counselor was pretty sure that Jordan was just fine, but she insisted the only way to know for sure was to have the amnio done. We had been terrified of the idea of an amnio and had decided against it, but she was insisting that it was pretty safe and that our chances of our baby having trisomy 18 were much higher than the chances of anything going wrong with the amnio. We agreed to the amnio.

The next Monday we had our regularly scheduled appointment with our OB. She was reassuring that because the ultrasound looked so good she was sure that Jordan was just fine. Now we just had to wait it out for two weeks to find out the results of our amnio. I hoped to have good news before Christmas. On December 20 at 9:30 pm we got the call from our genetic counselor that shattered our lives. Our son did, in fact, have Trisomy 18. I was crushed. It felt as if all of the air had suddenly been taken from the room. "Is he in any pain?" I asked her. She assured me that he was not. She urged me toward termination our pregnancy. My only reply to her was, "That is not an option for us." She explained that most likely he would be stillborn as 80% of babies with Trisomy 18 are. Of the few who are born alive 90% die before their first birthday. Then she told us to make an appointment to get in to see our regular OB as soon as possible.

My husband and I explained to Zachary that we were very tired and going to bed early. We went back to our room and cried all night long. At one point in the middle of the night my husband came out to the living room and removed Jordan's Christmas gifts from under the tree. I threw up until my throat was raw. How could this horrible condition I had never even heard of take my son away from me? I decided I didn't want to see him. I couldn't see him and go my entire life seeing his little face. I thought maybe someone else could take photos of him, in case some day I did want to see him. I felt like a coffin carrying around a baby who was not going to live. Just waiting for the day to bury him. That brought up new questions. Did we want to bury him or have him cremated? I pictured myself sitting on his grave, wishing I could dig him out with my bare hands. Wondering what he would like if I did. What if I dug him up the day after he was buried? Or what if I dug him up six months later? I dreamed all night of how my baby would look as he decomposed.

The next morning as I woke up, the first sensation I felt was extreme nausea, I ran to the bathroom and threw up. As I was bending over the toilet for my daily good morning vomit, I remembered the phone call we had gotten. I began to cry, and the vomiting only got worse. My throat hurt like sharp glass had been pulled through it.

Watching all of the holiday shoppers happily carrying packages and buying "Baby's First Christmas" gifts knowing that was the only Christmas that Jordan would be in our lives.
We learned a lot, too. We found strength and peace in our Lord. Christmas is an odd season to learn of the impending death of your baby. With Nativity scenes every where you turn and songs about a baby born in a manger, it would be hard to miss the connection. God sent his only Son to this terrible Earth during the Christmas season. He invited our son to go to Paradise. What a contrast, and yet he did his part with an open heart while our hearts were crushing.

Of course our first response to the diagnosis was to pray for a miracle. To say to God, "Ok God I will trust you to heal my son". We thought of how amazing it would be if God chose to use us in a ministry of praying for and seeing the healing of babies!! What an amazing ministry!
The week of New Year's Eve we went to church to hear the message from Isaiah chapter 6 as God asked, “Whom shall I send?” and Isaiah replied, "Here I am Lord Send me." And it hit like a ton of bricks. God was asking us if we could trust him if Jordan died. I knew then that my sweet tiny son would not be with me for long. I responded with "Yes Lord, Here are we, send us."

My husband and I decided not to tell our families until January. We didn't want every Christmas to be marred by the memory of what we had learned this Christmas. We told the kids that Charles had an uncle who was very sick and that we were sad and wondering if he may not live. That way if they saw we had been crying, they wouldn't question it. We only had to last four days then they would be going to their Dad's house for Christmas and the week following.

I called my OB and asked for an appointment to come in and discuss our diagnosis. She said, "I strongly urge you to terminate this pregnancy."

I told her that was not an option for us. This was our much loved and anticipated son, I would fight for his life just as I would any of my other sons.

She called him a pointless nonviable fetus. She said, "IT is just going to die anyway." When I asked for more Zofran for my HG and further time off from work, she stated that I was no longer a candidate for that. I felt like not only my son had been given a death sentence, but me too. I was certain that I attempted to go back to work at the same time as giving up the medication that had been keeping me alive I would surely die. My job involved doing home visits into homes with babies. Most of the homes were very dirty and smelled of feces. I was certain that I would end up vomiting on the floor in the first home I entered. I couldn't imagine walking into homes with young babies as I was still pregnant with my son who was not expected to live.

She told me that if we were refusing to terminate, that she would not see us until our regularly scheduled appointment in January. After that phone call was the first time I begged God to take my life. This prayer continued at least twenty times a day for the next twelve weeks.

January 2, we told our sons about Jordan's condition. They were very sad, and asked what was the best we could hope for. There really wasn't anything to hope for. We hadn't heard of any baby boys who lived longer than a year and only one who lived eleven months. We told our parents and other relatives. Everyone kept asking for the good news, could the tests be wrong, what are the most encouraging stories we had heard of babies with trisomy 18. We kept having to dash everyone's hopes. There was so little to hope for. We were hoping to meet him alive. Even if we only had him for a few minutes, that would be something. My original thoughts of not wanting to see him left pretty quickly. I couldn't wait to see him. I wanted hundreds of photos. I wanted footprints and handprints. I began cherishing every moment of my pregnancy. I would say, "He kicked me today, so today he is here and doing well."

We kept our regular appointment with our doctor on January 14. She repeated her hurtful words to us. She called our son pointless. We told her we wanted to carry him as long as possible. She said she would not offer any more ultrasounds or monitor his health in anyway. We knew we needed to find a new doctor who could help us to meet our son alive.

Soon after a good friend, Shondra, called her OB's office and spoke to one of the women who works there, Bekkah. Shondra told Bekkah our problem and about our OB's lack of compassion. Bekkah told Shondra to have us call and that she would get us in right away with Dr. Williams. I called and spoke with Shondra and she got us in.

Our first time meeting Dr. Williams, I was ready to fight if necessary. I had my list of demands. I had my Mother's heart armed with the strength of ten armies ready to fight for my son's right to live. I listed off my demands and Dr. Williams prayed for us. He shed tears at our hurts. He scheduled two ultrasounds and regular appointments for us to monitor Jordan. He even found a neonatologist willing to help us. Though I must admit I still prayed daily that when God was ready to take Jordan home, he would take me too, I was also able to celebrate the time we had left with him. Dr. Williams was on our side. For the first time I felt a glimmer of hope.

The fight for healthcare part one

Being pregnant at 36 is very different than being pregnant at 24. It had been twelve years since I had experienced pregnancy. Changes had ocurred in about every possible way. My body was older, I felt more tired than I had remembered feeling before. And I remembered feeling very tired. For the first couple of months, I did feel pretty good though. I held out hope that hyperemsis had skipped me with this new pregnancy.

My husband had a prior commitment to go to Sacramento for two weeks and build a set for a high school play. I was sure I would be just fine. The first few days were fine, I threw up once or twice a day but nothing out of control. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. HG was back. I was unable to stop vomiting. I threw up over and over until every drop of bile was out of my stomach. It felt as if my stomach was a wash cloth and it was being rung out until every single drop was gone. I would get a rest for about five minutes until any amount of liquid had accumulated in my stomach and then I was vomiting again. I called my OB who said if it gets worse to call her. If it get's worse? How could it get worse?

The next day was more of the same. I would just vomit over and over without stopping. Then my sons came into my room to announce that the front bathroom was not working right. Somehow, I pulled myself together enough to walk into the front bathroom to find that the septic tank was backed up and sewage was backing up into the bathtub. I started crying. It was the kind of cry you get when you think there is no answer to a problem. There seemed just no way that the septic could get fixed or that I in this condition could deal with raw sewage. I was pretty sure I would never stop crying.

I called my husband in desparation. I told him how horrible everything was. I asked him if there was any possible way he could cut his trip short. He said he would work as quickly as he could and hoped that he could make it back soon. He called his mom and asked her to check in on me. She called me from San Jose and I cried some more. She said she would be up on Friday and I should just close the door to the front bathroom and have the boys use my bathroom. This seemed like the only solution possible at the moment. I continued to vomit repeatedly and to call my OB. Every day was the same answer, call tomorrow if it gets worse. My husband was able to make it home on Friday also. We went to the pharmacy on Friday evening to pick up my refill on my medicine to control the vomiting. The pharmacy informed us that the insurance had denied the claim and we either had to pay $25 per pill or go without. Even with the pills I was vomiting non stop, I knew without them, I was going to die. It literally felt as if the insurance company was sentencing me to death.

I went home and waited for death to come. The smell of the front bathroom pushed me over the edge. I just brought my pillow into my bathroom and sat up to empty the remnants of my stomach every few minutes. By Monday morning I was sure I was going to die. My husband had been fighting with the insurance company all morning and getting no where. Finally he told the plumbers that we had to go to the hospital and asked them to just leave a bill when they were done. One look at me and they didn't question our need to leave. I brought the sweet soft blanket I had bought for our baby with me. I wanted to feel something to remind me that there was a reason I was going through this agony. We would eventually have a baby at the other end of this pain.

While in the hospital, the ER doctor said, "Your OB told us that next time you get this sick you really need to let them know. Don't let it get this bad again." I was too sick to point out that I called them every day for a week and a half. A couple of IVs later, I felt much better. I could walk upright and even drank half of a sprite! They gave me a shot of Zofran and it was a miracle drug. I didn't feel the slightest need to vomit. They weighed me. I had lost eleven pounds and was 13 weeks pregnant.

This tug of war with the insurance company lasted for the next few months as I battled HG. When I was able to get my Zofran as scheduled, I only threw up a couple of times a day. But without the Zofran, I was back to vomiting non stop around the clock. Finally they agreed to pay for nine pills at a time which meant I had a 25 dollar copay every three days. Even that was too much money considering I hadn't been able to work for weeks. This tug of war lasted the remainder of my pregnancy. But was not the worst thing that happened. That was still to come.

May 2004 - A Wedding At Last!

With my divorce final May 7, Charles and I could plan our wedding at last. We saw no reason for putting it off or waiting for some distant date. We had already waited far too long for the papers to all be final. My status as 'divorced' must have been one of the shortest in the history of court papers. May 27 less than three weeks later, Charles and I were married.

Because my Mom was so sick and my Dad would be unable to attend anyway, we chose to have a small ceremony in our home. We had completed six months of premarital counseling and our counselor was a licensed pastor. We asked him to marry us. Christopher gave me away, Zachary held one ring and Ben held the other. All three boys stood up with us at the homemade alter in our living room. Our ceremony was sweet and intimate. We only had nine guests invited to celebrate with us.

Charles' Mom had offered to watch the boys over the weekend while we went to the coast for a short honeymoon. Our longer honeymoon was scheduled later that summer. Charles' Mom and the boys prepared our home for our big reception on Saturday. After two days away we returned just in time for our 75 guests to arrive at our home for our BBQ reception. It was perfect. We felt our family blending into a loving home.

Of course there were great moments and not so great moments. There were moments that the kids were overjoyed to be living in California in our nice new home. There were moments when the rules of going to bed at ten and minimum grade requirements made them say they wanted to move to Oregon with their dad. I would tell them, sure just schedule a court date and let the judge know the reason you want to live with your dad is that there are less rules and let's just see if he wants to move you. Kids will be kids and even kids who live with both parents in one home will try to play one parent against the other from time to time. These guys had it easy since their dad was always offering bribes to get them to move back to Oregon. He offered them freedoms and even money but they were happy in Redding.

My dream of having more children was rekindled. Charles had not had any biological children and very much wanted to try. My heart was overflowing with the thought of being able to once again be the Mother of a newborn. The idea of parenting a child with a man who loved me was so inviting. We began trying to conceive right away. We had hoped to conceive on our honeymoon, but that didn't happen.

The boys loved the idea of having a new baby in the house. Zachary liked the idea of no longer being the baby. Christopher and Benjamin hoped for a baby sister. Charles and I just hoped for an easy conception. Since it was 12 years since I had last conceived, I was really not sure how easy or hard it would be to conceive again. Soon June passed with no baby, then July. I was beginning to become afraid that I was too old to try again. I was after all 36 years old. In August I began having hot flashes. I felt like I had failed my new husband. Was I going through the change of life so early? I could remember well, how my mother described her hot flashes. These seemed frighteningly similar.

Hoping against all hope that instead of menopause, this could be early signs of pregnancy I took a pregnancy test. As I sat alone in my bathroom I almost willed that second line to appear on the pregnancy test, be there, come on be there. When it appeared I was in shock! I really was pregnant! I didn't know if I should dance and leap for joy or fall to my knees and just cry that my heart's desire was going to come true! A baby was on its way!! I came out of the bathroom. Charles was washing the dinner dishes and I asked Zachary to have him come to my bedroom. Charles came back concerned because I hadn't been feeling well. "Sweetie, Are you ok?" he asked me.

I handed him the stick. "Wait, remind me, what does two mean? Are two lines good?" He sat on the edge of the bathroom the room spinning. His life suddenly changed forever. He had a huge silly smile on his face. A smile that said he was terrified and overjoyed at once.

"What do you think about them apples?" I asked him. This was one of our favorite lines from a movie.

"Them are some apples." was his usual reply. He said this as he looked up at me with tears in his eyes. We danced in the privacy of our bathroom to the music playing so loudly in our hearts. Zachary walked in on us, and asked what was going on. We told him to assemble his brothers in the living room.

The boys had been struggling with their homework and grades. We pretended the family meeting was going to be about that. "With a new school year starting, we wanted to talk to you guys about tests." They were looking at us with utter confusion in their eyes. "We decided since we have asked you to try harder on your tests this year, it was only fair that we also tried harder for our tests. So we took a pregnancy test tonight and got 100%!" Now they were totally lost! They just turned their heads to the side like bewildered puppies.

"Your mom is pregnant, we are going to have a baby." Charles explained. After answering a few more questions for the boys we went back to our room to call friends and family. We were thrilled to say the least. A new baby was on its way. I did a bit of calculating and realized, this new baby was due on Mother's Day 2005! How wonderful, the best Mother's Day gift I could possibly hope for!

Getting to Know Christopher

With the divorce finally final, Charles and I could look toward our future together. The boys were safely in our care. The judge had told Christopher that he could choose whether or not he wanted to visit his father. He chose not to. Benjamin and Zachary spent every other weekend with their dad. This time alone with Christopher allowed me to spend a lot of time trying to help him heal from a lifetime of his father's ridicule. I could see that Christopher was trying in every way possible to be as opposite of his father as he could be. How could I blame him? Hadn't I chosen Charles much because he was opposite of my ex husband? Still I tried to encourage Christopher to search for what made him happy instead of just becoming the opposite of his father.

Christopher began showing signs of brilliance when he was still very young. Yet, he had struggled in school so much. I asked the school to do some testing on him. I had heard of Asperger's syndrome and wondered if Christopher could be showing signs of that. It is described as a sub category of Autism. Children with Asperger's syndrome demonstrate very high IQ levels but struggle with social situations and obsess over small details or certain hobbies. Christopher was content to be in his room for long hours just playing with his computer. He had little interest in friendships.

The testing showed that he did not have Asperger's Syndrome. His IQ was very high coming in at averages above 150! The school psychiatrist who performed the tests stated that he had a lot of unresolved issues with his father. I found a counselor who Christopher liked so he could have someone to talk to. He enjoyed those weekly visits very much, however, after about six months his grades hadn't improved and he wasn't any more interested in friendships or reestablishing relationships with his family in Oregon than when he had started.

One day I received a phone call that came as a complete shock to me. Christopher's principal from school was calling to say that he had been the victim of a hate crime. I couldn't figure out what kind of hate crimes they had for 6 foot 3 inch blue eyed white boys. The principal said that he had been shoved into a wall, thrown on the floor and someone threw milk on him. I was very sad for my son, not knowing why anyone would do such a thing.

When Christopher came home, I asked him about what had happened. I had been searching my brain to figure out what kind of hate crime he could possibly have been a victim of. Finally it occurred to me. I asked him, "Christopher, are you questioning your sexual identity?" His answer was very quiet. "Not exactly questioning." So that was it. Everything that I had ever heard about parents of gay sons came flooding into my mind at once. I knew this was my one chance to show my son unconditional love. I knew that much of my son's self esteem was going to hang on my next words. I knew that everything I knew about God and Christianity and my son's salvation was hanging there too. I felt as if I had suddenly found myself on a tightrope hundreds of feet in the air.

My first words out of my mouth were, "Christopher, you know that I will always love you, no matter what right?"

His answer was a yes, but spoken so softly and almost more as a question itself than an answer.

I asked him if he was ok physically. Did the boys at school hurt him? He said he was fine, just embarrassed, hurt and angry. I knew that Christopher was well versed in what the bible had to say on this subject. I knew that he did not need to hear a lecture from me. But I also felt that to avoid this subject completely would not be true to my convictions or faith. So very softly I told him, "Christopher, I know you know what the bible says about this right?" he nodded his head. "Then there is no reason for me to say any of that, but if you would like a book on the subject we can give you one. Do you want a book about the biblical teachings regarding homosexuality?" he nodded again. "Ok, I will find you one, but just realize this. No matter what you choose to do with your life. No matter who you date, or where your interests take you, I will always love you with all of my heart." Then we hugged.

Of course accepting in the abstract was very different from seeing him become more expressive about his sexuality. I suppose that is hard for moms even when their sons are straight. It is hard to see them interested in girls, but interested in boys was a whole different ball game. One day he had been at a public park with a boy he was interested in and some older men started pushing them to the ground and calling them horrible names. The boys had only been sitting on a bench talking and these men in their thirties decided they needed to step in. Christopher had my cell phone with him and called me in a panic crying. I sped to the park but them men were gone before I got there and Christopher and Thomas had been hiding out near the teen center. They got into my car and I took them to our house to watch movies. Seeing Christopher and Thomas together was somewhat awkward, I will admit that. But they just watched television like any two best friends would.

Christopher has cycled in and out of relationships, and has been dating one person, Alan, who I adore for more than a year now. I see the difficulties that are ahead for Christopher in the gay lifestyle. I see the pain and rejection, the fear of AIDs and fear of angry strangers and gay bashers ready to hurt my son at any moment. I see that he has totally turned away from God and refuses to attend church. These things make me sad knowing that his life has so many challenges ahead. But no matter what, he is still that little baby I held alone in my hospital room so many years ago. He is still the boy who earned me a Mother's Heart. I will love him and be at his side for his entire life.

Christopher has opened my eyes to the challenges that plague a gay teen. I read up on the PFLAG website to learn that the average high school student hears 25 gay slurs a day. A gay teen will hear much more than this. Can you imagine learning that more than 25 times a day your child is told they are garbage? Gay teens are six times more likely to commit suicide! It became my goal to make sure that Christopher always knew he was deeply loved.

Of course being gay wasn't the only thing going on in Christopher's life. He was still a normal average teenage boy. He had the regular teenage stuff to deal with too. He went through all of the normal stuff teens go through with trying to establish his independence and to become his own person. It seemed to me that with every choice he made, he mostly just tried to be the opposite of his macho, strict, angry father. It broke my heart to see him trying so hard to be the opposite.

After not seeing his father or his cousins or grandparents for six months, Christopher agreed to visit one weekend in October. He had an ok time and decided he would go up for Christmas and his birthday 2004. This time was not so good. His father gave him a porn magazine and told him "This is what real men look at." Instead of finding a ways to enjoy his short amount of time with Christopher he took advantage of the extra pair of hands and put him to work cleaning and helping him move from his small apartment to an RV in his parents yard. Christopher was horrified that this was how he was to be spending his 16th birthday and called me and begged me to come and get him. My good friend was driving from Medford to Redding that day so she volunteered to go pick Christopher up. That was one year ago, and Christopher has not visited or spoken to any of his Oregon relatives since.

I suppose most parents go through ups and downs with their teens as kids want to rebel from everything their parents hold to be true. Christopher and I have definitely had our ups and downs in the past couple of years. But I can definitely say that as Christopher turns 17 years old this week, we are closer than most families. I can say that I have shown him unconditional love in ways that most parents never imagine. I can say that Christopher though he has made very different life choices than I have, is an amazingly wonderful, strong, independent young man. I can absolutely say I am proud to be his Mom.

2003 - The Year of Change

Change is a fascinating thing. It seems the more we avoid it, the more it pursues us. The more we chase after change, the more things seem even more the same. 2003 was the year I was ready to settle into my life and establish a status quo. I loved my job, my newfound independence, my little three bedroom apartment, things seemed pretty good. The only down side to my life "As Is" is that my husband was constantly coming to my home and banging on the doors and shouting outside. My neighbors had threatened to call the police on him more than once. They were very understanding with me, but they wanted to make sure we were safe. I hated that he still had so much of an impact on my life.

January 3 I nervously waited at work for my somewhat blind date to show up. Sure we had met online and sent photos back and forth, and yes, by this point we had enjoyed nightly phone conversations that lasted for hours on end. But you just never really know what a person is going to be like until you meet face to face and really know. I had asked him to pick me up at work since I didn't like the idea of strange men knowing where I lived. The teen center was closed that day so I was just there waiting for him, counting the minutes until 10:00 am our scheduled meeting time. He showed up at 9:58, hmm, not bad. I like someone who is just a little bit early, shows respect for the person they are meeting.

For our first date, we had decided to walk around my home town. Ashland Oregon is a beautiful town to explore. It is a bit eclectic, one store could be all used 'treasures' for sale for just dimes, and the next store displays priceless antiques or designer fashions with price stickers so high you have to stand on a ladder to read them. Anyone who lives in Ashland is smart enough to drive twenty minutes to Medford for their own shopping. The only people who actually shop in Ashland are tourists. So though I had lived there for half my life, I hadn't really spent much time in the local stores. It sounded like a fun first date to be a tourist in my own home town.

My very first impression of Charles was mixed. From his photos I thought he would be taller and have more hair. Not exactly the physical characteristics of my usual dates, but hey, my usual dates hadn't worked out well had they? Thinking back now, I guess I was looking for someone who was as opposite of my ex husband as I could find. Charles was definitely that! My first husband was a 6 foot 2 inch power lifter with no sense of humor and even less common sense. He wasn't real bright and usually cruel. Charles was the same height as me at 5 feet 8 inches. He is smart, and knows enough to let a person know when he doesn't know what they are talking about. He loves to sing along to the radio, a trait I found endearing. And he is by far the funniest person I have ever known.

I am not sure if you would say that for us it was love at first sight. I am not sure that happens in your mid thirties after you have lost your youthful looks. But it was love at first knowledge. Knowing his joy, his zeal for life, his intelligence, his passion for things I knew nothing about, made me want to know him more. Charles began looking for jobs in Ashland right away. If we were going to explore where this relationship could take us, we needed to be closer together. The two hour drive was going to be tough.

We spent the weekends when I had my sons with me in Ashland and the weekends when they were with their dad in Redding California, his home. I loved Redding, but my job was in Ashland. I couldn't even consider leaving the job that had won me my first freedom. Charles was working in Redding at the Shasta County Women's Refuge as a violence prevention educator.

March 15th I got a shocking phone call from my Program Director at our agency's headquarters in Medford. Because of statewide budget cuts the grants that had been paying for my job position were ending. Everyone was being laid off in thirty days! The teen center would be closing, the case managers were being laid off. The entire program as we knew it was going. People who had worked there for many years longer than I had were losing their jobs. I knew that my immediate job prospects doing anything similar to what I had been doing were gone.

I called Charles very upset. How would I support my kids? His attempts at finding work in Ashland had not been fruitful. What would we do? He told me that there was a job opening in his agency and asked if I had considered moving to Redding. I really hadn't considered that. I loved my job in Ashland, but now that that was ending, I thought, it couldn't hurt to try. I just wanted to find any job that could keep food on the table. I applied for the position, though the requirements were pretty high. I wasn't sure I was qualified. The job position was for a domestic violence specialist at Child Protective Services. A couple of weeks after submitting my resume, I was asked to come for an interview. The interview went well, and two weeks after that, I found out that I had received the position! Wow, I guess that meant we were moving to California. My new job started May 18 and the kids had school until June 3rd so in the beginning the logistics got a bit tricky. My new job was willing to work with me as we transitioned.

My sons' father tried to prevent me from moving. He got a restraining order to prevent me from taking the boys to California. On June 23rd we went to court for what should have been a custody hearing and final divorce judgment, but he 'forgot' many of his necessary documents. So all we were able to tackle that day was custody. The divorce hearing was moved to November. I was a bucket of nerves at the hearing terrified that I may not be allowed to have my sons with me in California. The judge asked to speak to the boys in his chambers. While in there, I am told that Christopher told the judge he never wanted to see his father again. Benjamin and Zachary said that they would be both happy and sad no matter where the judge chose to put them. After speaking with the kids, the judge only asked one question. He asked their father, "Do you think it is possible to fix your relationship with Christopher?" His father's reply was "If I could keep him away from HER." After that reply the judge hit his gavel and gave his decision. The boys would be living with me in Redding! Their father was ordered into counseling which he never did.

In one year, I changed my job, my home and even what state I lived in. I got custody of my sons, and put them in new and wonderful schools. We moved from our small apartment to a 5 bedroom house! Charles' Mom embraced the kids as her own grandkids from the very first time she met them. She couldn't have been any sweeter. Since they had lost my Mom as a proper grandmother, they now had "Grandma Sharon" to do all of the fun grandmother things with. She would teach them jokes and card tricks and take them to movies and arcades. She took me under her loving wing too. It felt nice to have a Mom to hug again.

Charles and I began to plan for a wedding, but we had to finish the divorce process still. The November court date came and his lawyer showed us the papers all ready for signature so we agreed to the terms. Of course when he sent them to us, they were completely different than the ones he had in the courthouse. We had to schedule a new court date and couldn't get on the calendar until April of 2004! In April he showed up without his proof of income but declaring that his income had fallen by hundreds of dollars per month. The judge stated that all documents needed to be in by 5 pm. Of course he did not follow this order so the judge gave him two weeks to have everything signed. He did not sign any papers in that time period. Finally May 7, 2004, the judge ordered the divorce final despite my ex husband's feet dragging. He also ordered back child support and future support to be paid. At long last he had absolutely no control over my life.

So much changed in that year, and as I look back now, I see that God didn't hate me at all. I see that he allowed my husband's behavior to get worse in order for me to find freedom. I see that God did not abandon me in my time of heartache, he carried me through it. I can see now, how much my life has improved, and the only way to get to this point was to travel through that desert of pain in 2001. God was not casting me into darkness, he was leading me to the light. As I look around my home today, I see my sons are happy well adjusted boys. I see our beautiful home and my loving husband cooking in the kitchen. But wait I am getting ahead of myself. First I have to tell you about the next two years. Those years can not be tackled together or even as whole years. There is just too much there. I will have to divide them up into smaller morsels. Otherwise the bitterness, sweetness and pain and joy would be too much to digest.

2002 - The Year I Met Myself

Maybe that title seems odd to you. How could I possibly meet myself at age 34? Yet, in so many ways I see that it is true. When I lost almost everything I had. When I lost the support of everyone who held me up, and I was forced to stand on my own two feet with only my own strength, I found out who I really was. I found my own strength and my own power. I found me.

I was no longer Dan and Frankie's daughter. At least not in the way I had been. I went from leaning on my parents to carrying them through the toughest time they would ever face. I was my mother's voice and my father's strength. I drove twelve hours every weekend to be at my mother's side. I helped her learn to eat again. I reminded her of songs she once knew. She and I would sing together every day, either in person or by phone. I helped her to find her voice. Even if she couldn't remember whether or not she had eaten lunch that day. She could remember any song from the seventies as long as I was willing to sing with her. I just gave her the next note, and she sang out every word.

I was no longer my husband's wife. I found an amazing strength in being able to tell him no. No you can't borrow money. No you can't yell in my home. No you can't call my son dirty names. No you can't give him porn magazines. When he was yelling at me on the phone I found the power of the off button. It was an amazing new tool! I found freedom and peace. Though the divorce was still not final, I found freedom. He was fighting the divorce and dragging the court process out by not signing papers or showing up with the wrong documents. In my heart and mind I was free from that bondage to fear and anger.

I was no longer the same Christian I had been. I had once believed in a God who was always going to shield me from hurt, pain and evil. I now knew that was not true. I still loved God, but my relationship had changed from one of absolute trust to a relationship you may envision that a beaten down dog would have with its owner. I feared God. I am not sure I believed He loved me. I wanted him too. I wanted to know what I had done to make him hate me. I was no longer in a position of ministry and believed that I never would be again. I felt a separation from God that tore my heart to pieces.

My relationship with my kids was different as well. For one, since they spent every other four days with their dad, I felt a bit of a disconnect from them. I felt as if half of their life was now off limits to me. I felt that I was only protecting them half of the time. And in a way I felt a certain freedom that I hadn't felt before. In the twelve years I had spent as a Mom, I had been with my kids almost every single day. Other than when I was away on short ministry trips I had been with them all of the time. Now for the first time, I had half of my time on my own.

With so much free time and as my first time on my own. I was no longer my husband's wife, or my Mother's daughter, or even my sons' mother. For the first time, for at least half of my days I was just Jenny. It was time to discover who she was. I discovered I loved to read. I started reading everything in sight. I discovered I was really very good at my job. I soon earned another promotion. After only two years at the teen center I was now in charge. I was the Program Supervisor. I began teaching anger managment and parent education classes. I didn't miss the irony that the two things that would have saved my marriage if only my husband would have tried to embrace them were now the things I was teaching to dozens of people. I hoped that maybe some of their families would be saved the pain that I had suffered.

I even began dating! I was so surprised that men actually found me attractive. I had been told for so many years that I was good for nothing. Now suddenly men were interested in ME! A friend talked me into joining an online dating service. I was nervous so she signed up a profile with a fake name but listed all characteristics true of me. She even posted a photo of me. I was shocked when in the first month I received over a thousand letters!! I met a few men in person for lunch or a walk who I had met online, but only two turned out to be someone I would be very interested in. Those lasted a few months. I felt so free and for the first time, I felt like I was a grown up. I found out how it felt to be a woman. Not just someone's wife, daughter, mother or servant, but I was a woman with my own identity, interests and strengths.

December 16, 2002 was the day that would completely change the course of my life. I received an online message from a man who I thought may be interesting. He seemed too far away, but I thought, hey maybe we could be good friends. I answered his email, after all, his log in name was "NiceReddingGuy" couldn't be too bad right? 2002 came to an end as I was getting to know this man better. He seemed nice, definitely funny. I enjoyed his letters very much and took a chance on a phone call. Maybe he would be as interesting to actually talk to. That first call lasted for hours as we quickly hit it off. I thought my face would never heal from the pain of laughing so much for so long. He was a Christian and even in the process of finishing his bachelor's degree in Christian Ministry Leadership. Was I strong enough to believe that God would send me a Christian man? Could I believe that God loved me enough to do that? Was this a cruel joke and was I about to be hurt again? Was I strong enough to roll the dice? Should I believe that love could, at long last, touch my life?

Now that I knew myself better. Now that I was stonger. This was my first decision based on what was best for me, and what I wanted. Of course my sons' lives weighed heavily in the equation as well. But finding love was definitely about me wanting a life that could fulfill my desire to find a soul mate. Could he be my soul mate? The only thing more scary than rolling the dice to find out, was not to roll the dice at all. I took a deep breath and a big jump and agreed to meet Charles Davidson for the first time January 3, 2003.

2001 - The Year of Pain

My husband became more and more angry. He was always upset at someone. Often that someone was me, sometimes Zachary, usually it was Christopher. His anger got so bad that he began to call us terrible names. He started talking about how he wanted us dead. He would punch holes in the walls when he was really angry. Once he even pushed Christopher down a flight of stairs.

I was so torn. A good Christian wife, I thought, would stay in this marriage. She would pray for her husband. She would endure this life. A good mother would make sure her children were safe. I knew that Christopher would never be safe in the same house with his father. I felt like the two loves of my life were at war with each other. I could be a Christian and sacrifice my life for my Lord, but that felt like I was also sacrificing my sons, especially Christopher but also his brothers who would grow up hearing and seeing so much anger. On the other hand I could sacrifice my ministry, my passion for leading and loving teens, to keep my children safe, but would the Lord still love me if I made that choice?

I cried out for help. I asked our pastor for counsel. He suggested I pray more for my husband. Of course I had been praying for years, and his anger was getting more and more scary. I went to my doctor because when he yelled at me or the boys I actually became dizzy and my vision blurred. My doctor was concerned that my health was in danger. He stated that with those symptoms and the ulcer I was getting, that I would not live more than another year or two. When I told my Mom about this appointment, she became sick to her stomach and offered to set the boys and I up in an appartment for safety. A couple of days later, she was in the hospital. She had an aneurysm burst in her brain. She was in a coma. My best friend, my mommy, could no longer help me. I felt more alone than I ever had in my life.

Finally I talked my husband into going to a Christian Marriage Counselor. I told her how he scared me. I told her what it was doing to my health. She spoke with my husband and asked him to repeat what I had said. He was unable to remember it. She asked me to repeat my medical symptoms and told him that he was going to be asked to repeat them. I did but he could not. When he left the room, the counselor told me that God would not want me to stay in that relationship. She told me that she knew our lives were in danger. She told me that my husband was not capable of understanding the depth the effect of his behavior on his family.

This was just the thing I needed to hear. I could leave. God could forgive me. God could still love me. It was ok to be a good mother and protect my sons. I only wished my Mother could understand that I was leaving, that I would be safe. I still had hope for my marriage. I hoped that with a separation, my husband would see how his behavior was hurting our family. I prayed he would change.

Things got worse. He began obsessing about me. He would even come into my home when I wasn't home and take my underwear out of the hamper to smell them to see if I was having an affair. He would come over and say he wanted to kiss the boys good night, but he would just start yelling at them, calling them names. If I had thought things were scary before, now they were a nightmare. Separation would not be enough. I needed to file for divorce and get legal custody of the kids to keep them safe. I began to save my money to do this. In the meantime, I was able to get a domestic violence victim's grant to move to an apartment and get myself and my kids safely into a home that he did not have a key to. For the first time in years I felt genuine peace. I knew that I needed that sort of peace in my life. I knew I would never live under the same roof as him again. I knew that I was finished with trying to be what he wanted me to be. This is the day I gained my independence. This was the day that I showed my sons that I was strong enough to keep them safe.

My middle son, Benjamin, who had never been the victim of his father's wrath was very angry at me for leaving his father. He told me that until his father came home, he would not say he loved me. He kept this up for six months. My heart felt like it was being torn in half. I was trying to keep them safe the only way I knew how, and this was costing me Ben's love. Zachary was also very upset, though he was still very loving to me. Their father told them all of the time to pray that I would take him back. He told them that the divorce was all my idea and he wished we were all together, one big happy family. He ensured that they would blame me for leaving or blame God for not answering their prayers, but they would never blame him.

Christopher couldn't have been more happy about the divorce. He blossomed over night. He became a totally new person. He laughed more, he talked more, he even grew a full five inches that year. In every way possible Christopher beamed when taken out from under the anger of his father. He began complaining about having to visit his dad's house every other weekend. I wished I could protect him from that, but our divorce hadn't gone to court yet and my lawyer said it would be illegal to keep Christopher away from his dad.

The church I had served so lovingly for so long, abandoned me. People I had considered family sent me hateful letters. The two hundred people I had served selflessly for six years no longer spoke to me. My boss told me that I had given up on God's ability to heal my husband of his anger. He said that he trusted my husband's ability to minister above mine.

In 2001, my mother who had always been my best friend became less than a shadow of the woman she once was. She went from being the strongest woman I knew to being wheelchair bound and unable to speak or remember anything for more than two minutes. My church abandoned me. My son, Benjamin, hated me. I gave up my home. I lost my ministry. Who was I now? It seemed all of the ways I would have defined myself before were no longer true. I wasn't a wife. I wasn't a daughter in the way I had been. My son hated me and I didn't feel like much of a mother. I didn't feel like God loved me anymore. I felt utterly alone in the world. I had thought that 2001 was the worst year I would ever have in my life. I coudn't have been more wrong.

1993-2000 The years of Grace

I think that for my next installment, I can take seven years at once.

Between Christmas of 1993 - Christmas 2000, my life was very full. As a stay at home mom, my life was bustling! There were school concerts, Halloween costumes, baseball games and camp outs to keep me on the go. In 1994 I began working as a youth leader at our church. There were always kids in need of an extra should to lean on, and a place to spend the night. My family of three children grew by twenty fold. It seemed every weekend my house was taken over by loads of teens needing a friend and a prayer.

My role in the youth group grew until in 1998 I became the youth director of our church. I knew that God was filling that space He had created in my heart to love children. I couldn't have loved those kids more if they were born of my own womb. Even today, I pray for these kids, for their futures for their families, for them to love their Lord with all of their hearts. I went from just hosting sleepovers to teaching high school Sunday school, teaching the Wednesday night youth group and eventually I began going on short term missions trips with my students. Traveling became a big part of my job. Peru, Mexico, Canada and the Rocky Mountains were just a few of the amazing places I was able to travel to. I would journey out about four to six separate weeks out of the year. When I wasn't traveling, I was home with my boys. I couldn't imagine a more amazing life.

I began volunteering at a local teen center. I wanted to meet the kids in the neighborhood who were not necessarily the churched kids. The kids who really needed an adult to trust. Within a very short time, I was hired as the administrative assistant for the teen center. Within months of that, I was promoted to Case Manager for high risk youth!

I felt like I had found my heart's desire. I was a mother, not only to my three wonderful boys, but also to dozens of hurting teens who needed someone to love them. I felt like God was pouring out this amazing blessing. I saw that he had led me on this journey from the first day I helped in the youth group, to that moment as I held the hands of drug addicted, abused, lost children and led them to peace and love.

My Mother's heart was overflowing.

1990-1993 - The Years of Multiplication

Benjamin and Christopher kept me quite busy those first months. I was overjoyed. Christopher was so ahead of the game, always trying to outsmart his parents and relatives, a brilliant little boy. Benjamin was content just to find a new reason to giggle. As much as I loved those little boys, I knew I wasn't done. My heart ached to keep going. Maybe God created women to have this deep desire to create new life. At least that is how He created me. I adored my little boys in such different and enormous ways, I just knew that my heart had room for more.

My first husband disagreed with the notion of having more. He thought that babies disrupted our lives too much. He was ready to put his foot down when I took a pregnancy test, positive. Christopher was only two and a half, Ben was three months old, and another on the way? As much as my heart ached to have more, I didn't feel ready for another. I was terrified of how I would care for three so small. I was only 22 years old! Was our home big enough? So many things went through my head but mostly, I can not be that sick right now with two small boys to care for. I prayed and begged God, Yes, Lord I do not want to seem as if I do not want this gift you have given me, I do so much, but later would be good. Let me enjoy these first few months with Benjamin before I go back to vomiting every five minutes around the clock!

After a few days of crying, I began to accept the idea of another baby. Yes, it would be nice, three little boys so close in age. I scheduled an appt with my OB and he said there was no need to come in until my twelfth week. So I waited and enjoyed the idea of a new baby, it seemed like they would almost be twins. The idea grew on me as I pictured dressing them alike but in different colors and all of the cute things you can do with little boys so close in age and size. When my appointment finally rolled around, they tried to find a heartbeat but could not. The next step was an ultrasound. The doctor spent quite a while looking, but saw nothing in my uterus. No evidence that any baby had been there at all. He said it was not a miscarriage, but that the pregnancy test had been wrong. I was devastated.

I felt I was being punished because I had told God that I did not want his gift to me. I told my family about what had happened and they all breathed a sigh of relief. They didn't understand why I was crying. My dream was gone. This third baby was gone. They pointed out with their logical brains how hard it would have been on me to have three so close in age. They reminded me that, in fact, I was not even pregnant in the first place. They reminded me, it isn't as if you miscarried, or that a baby has died, you weren't pregnant at all. You should be glad. My husband was thrilled. He was sure to be much more careful to prevent a future pregnancy. I was crushed.

The rest of that year was a busy one, caring for two small boys was a full time job, plus I actually had a full time job. I was managing my parents' bowling alley. Benjamin would come with me to work, and Christopher would visit with my parents all day. It was a pretty good arrangement for all of us. Christopher got spoiled all day and a break from his pesky little brother. I got my time alone with Benjamin, and there were always enough good friends at the bowling alley to help hold him when I was busy. The boys' dad worked about eighty hours a week, so he wasn't around much and when he was, he was usually in a bad mood, so I would take the boys to the park a lot. My heart still ached for another baby but my husband refused to even discuss it.

Just after Christmas and Ben and Christopher's birthdays, I started feeling very sick. I went to the doctor in desperation. I was sure it was the flu or even worse. He asked me if I could be pregnant. I said no, my husband was always sure we used at least three forms of protection. "Well," my doctor said, "Let's just test to make sure." they did a pregnancy test, and believe it or not I was pregnant! I couldn't have been more happy! I would take all the vomiting in the world to have this baby!

My husband was waiting at his mother's house for me to finish my appointment. My doctor had given me a book on pregnancy and I walked into the house and handed the book to him. I could see from the look on his face this would take some getting used to. His mother was so angry she stormed out of the house. Later she said that since children with a grandparent with juvenile diabetics have a 1 in 3 chance of getting it, that by having a third child I was guaranteeing one of my babies would be diabetic. Like somehow by my third babies conception, I was putting Christopher and Benjamin's health at risk.

As usual, my pregnancy was a hard one. I spent the first five months throwing up every few minutes. None of the medications helped, and I didn't have anyone to watch my boys long enough for me to spend time in the hospital getting IV fluids. I just got more and more sick, every day. Finally, the morning sickness let up. Unfortunately, it was just in time for a new ailment. I didn't know what was going on, but I had horrific pain in my stomach and chest. I would drink mylanta by the gulp and it didn't help at all. The pain was so bad I would fall to my knees. My doctor was certain it was the city water and told me to drink bottled water. That didn't help. Finally on one of my trips to the hospital a nurse whispered to me to ask them to check my gallbladder.

I begged the doctor to check that, and there they were seven huge gallstones. The ultrasound that showed the stones showed also that we were having a boy! I was glad to know the source of the pain, but terrified I would need surgery while pregnant. On my due date, I went into the hospital in so much pain I was vomiting. Everyone was sure I was in labor. I was sure I was not. They checked for contractions and I was not having any. They did other tests and found out that my gallbladder was badly infected. I was put on IV antibiotics and not allowed to consume anything at all by mouth for five days. I had IV fluids to keep me hydrated, but couldn't eat or drink anything at all. My Mom had just gotten a fax machine and she faxed the hospital with a comic of a cow being shaken by one of those old fashioned exercise shaker belts. It was labeled "Milk Shake". She wanted to give me exactly what I wanted. It brought the first smile to my face I had had in a while. The next smile was when she surprised me by showing up at the hospital! She had flown in from Idaho to be with me!! I knew that everything would be ok.

After the infection was finally down, the doctors induced labor, needing to have Zachary born soon so I wouldn't need an emergency c-section and gallbladder removal all at once. I had the easiest labor I could have asked for! 45 minutes of hard labor one push and there was my little boy! He was so beautiful! He looked nothing like his big brothers had, yet all three boys were perfect in every way. Zachary's face was very bruised from the quickness of his birth. But that cleared up in a couple of days. He was such a delight, the easiest baby I had ever been around.

My Mom brought Christopher and Benjamin to the hospital to meet their little brother. Christopher sang "Hush little baby don't say a word, Mommy's gonna buy you a mocking bird, if that mocking bird won't sing, Mommy's gonna buy you a billy goat..." It was so cute!! Benjamin couldn't have been any less interested in Zach. I am not sure he even noticed there was a baby in the room. He played with the bed, making it go up and down, hid in the closet, and flushed the toilet. I was put on a very low fat diet and lots of antibiotics for eight weeks when my gallbladder could be removed lapriscopically. My husband wanting to make certain that we did not have any more surprises quickly scheduled a vasectomy. It felt like the death of a dream fell upon me. I knew that every moment I spent with Zachary would be my last moments as a mother to a newborn.

My year with Zachary was the best and worst you could imagine. I loved being home with my boys full time. I had found my passion in motherhood. My health became very poor. After my gallbladder surgery, I ended up with influenza. I was horribly sick with a fever of 104 for more than two weeks. As soon as the flu had passed, I had mastitus (a breast infection). I was sick with a fever of 103 for a week, and the doctor said that continuing nursing was the only way to get through it. Nursing was horrifically painful, but somehow I made it through. I was hoping and praying to nurse Zachary for a whole year, as that was what all the books said was the best thing for him. Somehow I made it to six months and thought I deserved some sort of party to have nursed through the flu, mastitus and a surgery. Just then I got the flu again. Back in bed for two weeks, I thought that I had to have had the worst year ever to have had all of these ailments after just getting over an HG pregnancy. Finally my health seemed to be restored and my summer was spent enjoying my boys in our back yard wading pool. I began doing an in home day care. My heart was content.

I was certain I could make to my one year nursing mark. Then three days before Zachary's first birthday I was in a terrible car accident. I had whiplash and was in so much pain, there was just no way for me to continue nursing. I felt like such a failure to have come so close and then failed. Of course, I can look back now and know that I made it to my one year mark but not then, I was deeply depressed. I had a garage sale and sold all of the things that I cherished as if somehow this would make amends for my not nursing for that entire year. I even sold the cradle that had rocked my three sons to sleep. I figured, I had failed as a mother and didn't deserve this beautiful reminder of my sons' time as infants.

I found out a week later that I had sustained a concussion that was causing depression and memory lapses. After about a month, my thinking was back to normal and I was very hurt by the loss of that cradle. But of course, there was no getting it back. I spent three months in physical therapy before I was able to move my neck again.

As Christmas approached, my health returned to normal. I had a big 101 Dalmations birthday party for Christopher and Benjamin. We repainted the guest room and surprised them with new bunk beds. Their room was blue on the bottom half of the wall with striped wall paper on the top half, divided through the middle with a dalmation boarder. We painted Zachary's room red with a fire truck boarder.

What an amazing couple of years those were. Even typing now, I can't believe all that we went through together. I think that those difficult times are what bonded us so closely. It seems that the hard times are what I look back and smile at our courage and strength to have gotten through them. Sometimes I wonder about that pregnancy that never was. I wonder if God simply answered my prayer for later and moved Zachary's time back by a few months. I was now the mother of the three most wonderful boys a woman could want. My heart ached for more, but I knew that was not going to be possible. So instead I just poured my heart and life into the gifts I had in my three amazing little boys, and celebrated Christmas 1993.

My First Year Mothering

My first year as a Mother was a busy one. Christopher was very collicky but walking with him and patting his back seemed to help a lot so we spent a lot of nights walking up and down hallways. I felt almost a compulsion to buy him any and everything I thought would bring a smile to his sweet little face. He had every toy within my price range and more clothes than any baby could possibly need.

I was working full time as a bank teller. In the mornings I dropped Christopher off at my Mom's house, and on my lunch hour I transfered him over to my Mother-in-laws home. In the evenings we played together. Christopher had the good fortune of always being the center of attention. His four morning hours with my parents were spent being videotaped and played with nonstop. Then four hours with his other grandmother to be spoiled and played with some more. They were always baking something. His evening time with me was our only time together and we spent it playing peek a boo and singing songs. His first year was definitely charmed.

Just after he turned one, on my 22nd birthday I found out that I was pregnant again! My birthday seemed to be the most wonderful day of the year! But of course that also meant another December baby was on its way. Somehow this time was different. I just knew he was a boy. I didn't dream of girl names or clothes. I just knew, this would be my Benjamin. Though I did get very sick, it was not even close to being as bad as the previous year with Christopher.

My biggest fears during that pregnancy were around whether or not I would be able to love Benjamin the way I loved Christopher. Christopher was my entire life, he was my joy the center of my world. How could I allow another child to take any of that away? How could I bring up a second child without enough love to go around? These thoughts consumed me for the next months leading up to December. Is there enough love in the world for two special boys? I really didn't see how it was possible. I had never even experienced anything close to the love I held for Christopher. I was unwilling to divide that love between my boys. I was unwilling to love either of them any less. My heart was on a rollercoaster ride of its life.

Benjamin was growing quickly and the doctors quickly worried that he would be too big for me to deliver. Because of this, they induced me a week early. I was so excited to be meeting Benjamin. I arrived in the hospital on December 6, nervous yet excited. The doctors hooked me up to all of the machines and an IV of pitocin. For three days they induced me, I had contractions every five minutes. Yet, no Benjamin! So they sent me home!! What a walk of shame that was. To leave the hospital after three days of labor still quite pregnant. I went home for a week and returned the following week to try again.

Finally December 14 1990 Benjamin Daniel Trowbridge was born into the world. What a beautiful little boy! I was surprised at how much he looked like his big brother. I was surprised at how much he looked like me. Mostly I was surprised at how much I loved him. Immediately that Mother's Heart I had earned two years earlier doubled in size. The crashing waves of love were more like tidal waves.

So this is how it is done. This is how a Mother is able to love them all? The love doesn't divide, it mulitiplies. I was overwhelmed with a deeper love than I knew was possible. Then an hour later that love muiltiplied even more the first time both of my sons were together. Watching Christopher looking at his tiny brother, hearing his tiny voice say "How cute!" My heart was full to overflowing. "This is amazing," I thought. This is Motherhood.

My first experience with Motherhood

On my 20th birthday, I got the best news a woman could ever get. I was expecting a baby! I was thrilled! After about five minutes the thrilled changed to complete panic.

Motherhood? How would I know how to do this? How would I know I was doing it right? I had not really been around small children much and I didn't really have any idea how to do the things a mother would need to do. A perfectionist at heart, I wanted to be the perfect mommy to my new baby. I spent those first few weeks of pregnancy in awe. Pregnant? Wow, what a concept!

About eight weeks into my pregnancy, I started to get morning sickness. How cute I thought, this is just like the movies. It was very exciting at first to get this confirmation that the doctor had been right. There was indeed a baby in there. After a week or two of normal morning sickness, it turned into some sort of monster. My insides felt like they were being ravaged. I threw up all of the time, day, night, outdoors, indoors, it didn't matter, I was throwing up. Eventually I became so sick that I was hospitalized and given IV fluids for a week. That helped a lot, but I was still very sick.

I would write letters to my new baby telling him or her, how much I loved the idea of being a mommy. Since I didn't know the baby's gender, I combined the two names I had chosen. Amanda for a girl, and Christopher for a boy. The letters were written to "Dear Amandapher". Pretty soon those love letters started to change into letters about life or death and could I really survive nine months of this unending vomitting. I was diagnosed with Hyperemesis Gravidarum. It was completely horrible. The medications all had horrific side effects.

Finally at 20 weeks pregnancy, it was like a curtain lifted and I could once again function. I was done vomitting and could go back to my previous terror, HOW do you mother a newborn? I read books and watched television shows on parenting. I bought every magazine I could find that could teach me something. I learned a whole new vocabulary that was necessary to mothers and no one else on Earth it seemed; Muconium, newborn poop, Effacement, something my cervix was supposed to do that last trimester. I hadn't even known I had a cervix! Wow, lots to learn.

After reading everything I could find on mothering, I realized, now I have to buy stuff. Babies need a lot of stuff. Who would have thought someone so much smaller than me needed so much? First things first, a crib and stroller. Well, I was very blessed and the babies Great Grandmother bought those two items. They were completely beautiful. I was so happy to see them in my home anticipating their future occupant! I found a craddle I fell in love with. It had dark cherry wood and a brass pin to keep it from rocking when unattended. Three babyshowers later, we had most of the stuff a baby needs. Our home was full to overflowing, now all we needed was a baby.

Amandapher was due on December 15. As December approached I imagined what it would be like to have that surprise moment when my water would break. I was so uncomfortable, I began dreaming of a Thanksgiving baby. Thanksgiving came and went without any signs of baby. Everyyday I woke up and wondered, is it today? Will I meet you today? And every night I went to bed certain I would never fall asleep as long as this enormous bowling ball of an infant stayed in there. December 15 came and went no baby. I began to get frustrated and tried many of the things people said would induce labor, nothing. I went out with my baby's father to find a Christmas tree in the woods. Our truck got stuck in the snow and we had to walk five miles. I was certain this would kick in labor. No such luck, still very pregnant, we moved closer and closer to Christmas.

Christmas Day it snowed six inches in our small town! My husband was working and I was home, very lonely and very pregnant. My brother's wife showed up to surprise me and take me to my parent's home for Christmas so I wouldn't be alone. We had a wonderful day but I still couldn't believe that my baby was not yet there to enjoy a Christmas with me.

Two days later, I was hospitalized to induce labor. At last this baby would be born!! I labored and labored, pushed and passed out for 24 hours. Finally December 28, 1988, 8:24 pm Christopher Jacob Trowbridge made his beautiful way into our world. He screamed and screamed. He did not like the bright lights in the room. I was so unsure of what to do for him. My doctor was busy stitching me up, and he just said, "You'll know what to do."

I really didn't. At last my mom and husband took Christopher into the hallway to meet the rest of his family. Out of the bright lights he finally calmed down. About an hour later, I was back in my room comfortable in my bed, and nervous for when everyone would leave. What then? What am I supposed to do with this little baby who is so helpless? Did these people really know what they were doing leaving him alone with ME?

Eventually the room cleared out and Christopher and I finally had a moment alone. I looked at this tiny helpless little boy. So beautiful, so sweet, so tiny, and fell head over heals in love. I can't describe this feeling to anyone who has never felt it any more than you can describe a sunset over the ocean to someone who has never seen one. It was like a wave washed over me. A wave that forever changed me as a human being, as a woman, and as a Mother. I was a different person now. My life didn't matter at all. Who was I in comparison to this tiny person? I was no longer my Mother's daughter, I was Christopher's Mom. What an honor to be the mother of this amazing little boy!

I spent that first night examining and memorizing everything about him. How his fingers curled around mine, how his lips moved when he was sleeping, how his eyes looked up at me with so much love and trust. I knew at that moment that I was forever different. I knew that I would fight off angry wolves for this little boy, I knew I would give my life for his in a moment without consideration of anything else.

I had become a Mother with a heart only another Mother could understand. This was the day I received My Mother's Heart.

A Mother's Heart

This is my first blog post! I have found that I have a lot to say and don't seem to take the time to write in a journal. My husband suggested that I begin to blog.

I am the very proud mother of three amazing teenage boys here on Earth and three much loved babies in Heaven. So much has happened in the past few years, I don't even know where to begin. I suppose I need to begin at the beginning.

My own Mother was a wonderful example of what a mother should be. There was never a moment of my childhood when I was unsure of whether or not my mother loved me. She showed me love every day of my life. My Mom would write me love letters and send them in the mail. It meant so much to me as a young girl to get a letter in the mail. She would always have so many lovely things to say about being my mother. She made it sound like it was an honor. I think the honor was all mine to be able to call her my Mom.

She was the kind of mom who would surprise me when I came home from school with some sentimental gift that I had never known I needed, but suddenly was the best treasure I had. I remember coming home when I was twelve and she had bought me new bedroom furniture and bedding and completely reorganized my entire bedroom. I felt like a princess with my new things. She must have spent all day to have gotten it all done while I was at school!

She was my very best friend. She was the kind of mother I could talk to about anything at any time. I talked to her about everything from puberty to sex to music and clothes. She always had the most wonderful loving advice for me.

I suppose if I am going to be writing here about My own Mother's Heart, I could only begin with where I learned and gained this Mother's Heart, from my Mother.

There will never be a day in my life when I forget how wonderful it was to grow up with the very most wonderful mother of all. My Mom has been very sick for more than four years now. She suffered a massive brain trauma May 23, 2001. She is still alive, but may never be the same as she once was. I am so grateful for the love she always poured out to me. I miss her every day of my life. Every moment of joy, I wish I could share with her. Every tear I cry, I wish I had her to wipe them away for me. Now it is my turn to kiss her hurts better and to wipe away her tears.

I love you Mom, and I thank you for sharing your Mother's Heart.