Loose ends

For several months now I've wanted to write the last chapter of my time of illness. For weeks now I've been thinking about writing a closing post. To finish off my story for anyone who might stumble upon this blog, or those who kindly read it. (Thank you)

Then the holidays kept me busy. Then I debated how open I wanted to be with an unknown reader. I don't share so much of my reality with many people anymore. Today there is only a small handful I would share the same kind stuff that used to I shared with just anyone before I got sick. Even less now that it looks like I'm as healed as I'm going to get. This all gave such good reasons to not write an ending.


Writing a closing post was also put off when I realized, "I should do it a year after I made my last post" That day is now, yet I still am not sure what to write. I want write honestly and tie up lose ends. But I don't like feeling venerable anymore, so I want to write protectively. I can't figure out how to do both. But I like endings to my stories. Especially when they are more pleasant than I expected. And I appreciate those who read and commented on my blog during a time that I really really needed the special experience a blog can give.

For now I am...

• Alive.
• A full time mom (for the past 7 months).
• Able to walk long distances (record 3.5 miles) and get pain relief from it.
• A Graduate from PT, but currently I'm back working on my master's degree in as I continue to figure out how to take care of this body.
• Getting great low back/leg pain relief from a "SpinoMed" brace. (but it's only the latest in countless devices that helped...for a time)
• Able to cook a meal and still eat with my family without increasing my general level of pain.
• Doing projects around the house (right now a big one for Grant's birthday)
• Working on my well practiced (but bad) habit of swearing (I lose points everyday, but Grant might have me beat)
• Taking my kids to doc appointments, including therapy.
• Doing homework with the 3 kids who have it.
• Singing songs, giving kisses and talking to each child at night.
• Driving. Especially driving to Seattle without spending all my health reserves.
• Standing in line, sitting in chairs.
• looking a bedroom dresser free of medical forms, notes or info sheets. (shreading/ packing up those last signs of my illness has encouraged me to finish this blog too)
• Go to school functions, even volunteer.
• Go out to eat.
• Camp and other much more fun vacations.
• Go grocery shopping, household shopping, and even shop at two stores in one day.
• And so more that i don't even think about because it's so natural to me now.

All of those things I couldn't do without dramatic increases in my pain. Many of those things I just didn't do. Or if I did them at all, I couldn't do it without stopping to have a break to lay flat. Without headaches. Without feeling overwhelmed(which led to the yelling and before mentioned swearing). Without hurting bad enough that I whimper "I hurt" without even thinking the words. Without "paying for it." With out hating.

I couldn't have done it without:

• My husband, who didn't wavier in kindness, parenting, house duties, support and love. Even when anger and pain had burnt me to a crisp. Without him, there would be little reason for the work it's taken to get as well as I have been able. And because of him I am more able to do all the work it takes to STAY as well as I have reached so far.
• My primary care doc (she is also my OB) who didn't ever give up, cried with me, and celebrated with me.
• A pain management doc (Cassius) who specializes in Marcaine injections in the spine and muscles. He managed to properly get my thyroid disorder recognized and treated. His encouragement pushed me thru the some of worst days of my illness when I gave up all narcotic pain medicine 10 months ago. My pain is not my primary thought and motivator because of his skill.
• A good endocrinologist. Wish I found him after Alex was born, I would have remembered more of my kid's infancies instead of drowning in a dark hole after each birth...if my thyroid had been properly diagnosed and treated.
• Therapists and med doctors who specialized in chronic pain
• My best shrink, a great LDS guy who has known me for 9 years, who I trusted enough to hang on. And he gave me confidence in my skill so far and future ability to hang on.
• 10 months of a general physical therapist (Joan believed in me) and a little less time with a pelvic floor physical therapist (Myndee's work and advice set the rest of my healing in forward motion).
• A family therapist for the kids. She helped us understand how to respond to each child's different symptoms of trauma from this time. I hope none of your kids ever cry at night because they were worried that this time, this surgery their mom might die. Or become so withdrawn that there is no way to comfort them.

I wish I felt this was a safe enough space to share more without being judged. Having the stitches and wounds heal was horrible on the body. I thought I was done when the skin healed. Then a new tidal wave hit, emotionally healing from this drawn out medical roller coaster. I don't know if healing spiritually was an after shock of that wave, or it's own separate space that needed healing.

Regardless, I thought I was done. No one told me that I'd have to heal a third time, this time healing my family. Each of these steps, I didn't think I could do it. I didn't think I could face the work, do the actions or even ever feel like I accomplished anything. Each was painful in such a different way, that I can't even put them in order of "what sucked the most about this 3.5 year hell". That's 3-4 distinct stages of healing, (which each give you a huge sticker on your head that says, "judge me")(But those who wear non-polarizing glasses can see it really says, "love me")


I'm sure I've forgotten someone on this path. I've left out all non-medical people intentionally as part of my desire to not be venerable. Selfish yes, but I'm not ready. There were those people who have lifted me, answered the door and phone at important times, or had been so inspired in their actions that I felt loved when my emotions were blazing hot...those people were amazing. It was because of those kind of people like that I was able to even desire to find my faith in God and also in my church I hope they know who they are.

I'm not sure where Julie fits in here, so she gets her own place. A nanny who we were so blessed to find, blessed that she put up with us for 18 months or so, and blessed that the situation was such that we were able to ease me back into motherhood slowly. Boy, were those tough weeks as I was given back the job title of "full time mom". I wasn't sure we would make it thru.

Once again, I find that my fingers were able to write a post that I didn't think possible. At this late hour, I think I've included enough to tie up loose ends and keep safe those things tender to me. Thank you for following my blog, however much I knew you. Thank you for prayers and thoughts that were sent my way. Thank you for a mostly great experience I had as I gained the title, "blogger." Thank you.

So with that I finish this blog, a record of my past, of when I was ill for so long. I hope we never come close to experiencing this time again.

And if there is another stage of healing, I quit.

The End

Fashionista at 8

Emily stands in the family room. Waiting for alex to out on her shoes, she catches her reflection in the sliding glass doors. She strikes a runway model pose and speaks in a deadpan runway announcer voice. Emily's own words, I swear, "'All ready for school. Dressed in the nice classic of white, black, red, and brown. [pause as she looks over herself again] And gold and purple. And yellow. Classic." looks at me and strikes abother runway pose


Classic.
When I think of dressing classic, I always look for a combo of black, white, red and brown.

So I had her move to the kitchen and strike another pose. Or 5.

Made me smile after a rough morning of Alex fighting every word and command. We stayed cool. I feel verbally beat up. He kept switching topics and people or objects that were ruining his life.
So witnessing emily washed me with a love of parenting.

Oh, read it again. This time, know that we have never watched project runway or top model. I can only guess its from off commercials.

Sent from my Windows Mobile Phone

See a preview: A good day for us in Jan

Counter with last month’s family outing stuff,

last hospital say stuff.  Birthday presents. 

Clean dishes (cookie sheets) filling the dish dry thing (what is that called?)

Both sinks filled with dirty dishes. Some hand wash.  Most dishwasher.   The dishwasher is full of clean dishes.  For an hour Emily (above) had been crying that this job is too hard. 

So the dirty dishes and clean dishes grow dust. 

Sad thing is, this is only 36 hours worth of dishes. 

A Saturday morning, after the nanny left us in good shape Friday.

Oh dear, this is what my kitchen will look like on a good day next year.

In 66 days, we are letting the nanny go. 

I’m not ready to physically be a homemaker.   All the work and movement!   But I’m mentally ready  to be in charge.  No more daily calendar meetings.

How have you dealt with coming back (from mom’s visit or a solo trip) to motherhood?

Kittens and babies: 2002

Visiting Great Grandma Alice and Granddad Jack’s “Farm”. 

Alex is 3, Emily 1.  She started walking on this trip.

Fresh batch of kittens.

 

Curious, but cautious

A bucket brings confidence

Braver, picking up the kitty

Love.  So glad my in-laws create the opportunity for moments like this!

Not to be left out, Emily gets a turn.  In Grant lap, with a helping Uncle (Kenneth?)

Wow, looking back is fun.  I had to delete names all the time, confusing my now little Mark and Kate for my first babies, Alex and Emily. 

Do you have a buried event, before blogs, that you wish you could share?  What is it?  Send me a link !

I can’t share that without sharing from Memorial Day 2009.  Alice and Jack are still alive and kicking on the farm.   All 4 kids got to enjoy it

GG Jack answers Alex’s questions about his military awards

 

Mark is a sweet treat for one of their horses

 

GG Alice made sure Emily got to bake with her.  Caramel oatmeal cookies!

Kate explored the guppies, one of the many pets to enjoy.

God bless Grandparent and Great Grandparents!

I wish I could say it was “school prep”

Grant and I have gotten lazy this summer.  We hear the kids in the morning.  But we both sleep in.  It’s an unspoken game of chicken…who will get up first.  Sometimes we yell out for an older child to fix a siblings bottle or diaper.  And we sleep on. 

For some reason, this lack of our parenting is frustrating the nanny.  She doesn’t like arriving in the morning to 4 grumpy, hungry kids and 2 leaking diapers. 

Grant has also been frustrated, for different reasons.  He doesn’t like how much time I spend in bed.  Because of pain, for sure.  But sleeping all day just delays the problem.    So he set up a schedule, which also happened to help me get more consistent on the pain related meds. 

“7 am!  I have to get up at 7am!  You are crazy!”  I yelled said.

“Rachel, that still gives you plenty of sleep.  If you are having a bad pain day, I am fine with you moving to the couch.  I am not implying that you are expected to be a full parent at 7am.” Grant calmly replied.

For some reason, this was not enough.  “Well, Mr... Read-a-book-until-3-am-in-bed, If I am going to suffer with 7am, I am not doing it alone.   I will only agree to try this if you are out of bed at 7am too.  And in bed at 10pm too.  WITH NO BOOKS,” I said bitterly constructively.

Grant, a man who would do well to wake up at 10 am, and still not speak to anyone for an hour….agreed.  Wow.  He must have really wanted me to…to get better.   He must have really loved me to agree to keep this schedule with me. 

Here it is…the schedule.  It makes me cackle smile inside to see his name too.

Rachel & Grant's Daily Schedule (8/8-8/22)

7 am  Get out of bed; Aciphex; Naturopathic meds

8 am Breakfast

8:35  Walk Grant to bus

9 am Lyrica

10 am Pill O*

12pm-noon Lamictal*/lunch/Vitamin C/Naturopathic

1pm Nap No matter what, not even doc appointments

4 pm Pill O, (If I’m awake)

4:30 Get out of bed (Grant set the second alarm clock to be sure of this)

5:30 Be part of family (read: get out of cave-of-a-bedroom)

6 pm Dinner

7:30 Kids Bedtime; Benadryl/Progesterone/Naturopathic

9pm Pill O/Lyrica/Loestra*

10pm Bedtime

*New meds as part of my new pain management plan.  I am ecstatically cautiously hopeful.

well…you can judge for yourself how this goes by reading the next few posts. 

Thank you “Girls and Boys”

Dear Ingrid Michaelson,

Thank you for your music.  The girls in our family love your CD "Girls and Boys".   I'm embarrassed that it took me so long to find your website.   http://www.ingridmichaelson.com (so complex, I know!) YOU HAVE SO MANY MORE CD'S!!!  And your jukebox, COOL!  I’m embarrassed to say that I’ve heard the song “Maybe” so many times.  I had no idea it was you!!!  So sorry, I promise to be a better fan.

When i first heard you sing "The Way I am", it was on...Ellen?  You were newly nationally discovered.  I was laying on the couch, with pain that I assumed would end with my 4th pregnancy.  I fell in love with the song.  I made my TiVo repeat your performance again and again.  I love it, I cried, I connected.   On my next trip out of the house (rare due to pain) I got your CD.   If you knew how few CD’s I owned, you would be honored.  

My now 8 year old daughter loves "Overboard".  She sings it with such gusto and love and drama.  I think it's just the lines about, "I could write my name by the age of 3; and I don't need anyone to cut my meat for me, I'm a big girl now, see my big girl shoes...."   She likes those growing older feelings.  But I really hope I have a decade before she really falls "overboard" for some guy. 

Oh, and I love, "The Hat"  and love "I want to tell you, that you were my first love".   Yes I've been married for 10 years, but that first love, that first crush, that first mutual falling in love sure marks the heart. 

Marks the heart...Mark...My baby Mark.  His birth song is "The way I am".   If I was healthier, i would have held him and danced every time I heard that song, the way I did my other kids birth songs.  I chose this song because I really wanted the baby to love me, "The way I am", knowing that I would plunge into post partum depression after his birth, and not come out for a year.  I had no idea that my whole body would break.   I was overwhelmed how that broke my mind also.   

I still had no idea that as I hear him run around at 17 months, chanting, "too, too" (like a train) I would not be able to pick him up.  That I would have 5 surgeries since his birth to put me back together.  And that the doctors would finally say, sorry, this is all we can do.  You will be in pain the rest of your life. 

So the words make even more deep binding from my heart to his.  I really hope he can take me the way I am.  The way his first year was.  The way that he was my first one to do so many firsts for a nanny.  Not me.  The way that I wasn't able to hold him for....(pause, doing math)   7 1/2 months of his life.  That he would reach for me, climb up to me, but I had to push him away. 

I had to push him away.  

I don’t expect that most of you will understand why I cry when I write that.  I wanted with every fiber of my heart to be close to him, to comfort him.  Yet I knew if I lifted him, I would break the doctor’s careful work.   So we both cried when I had to push him away.  And away.  And away.

I've never been so glad for the forgetfulness of childhood before.  Even though he won't consciously remember this time, I know it will be part of him...part of us.  

He is growing older.  His sisters are growing older.  His big brother is nearing the 10th year since he turned me into a mom.    All of them have missed me, have learned to handle me like glass.  Have learned to be extra grateful when I'm strong enough to dance in the kitchen with them again to their songs.    Dancing in the kitchen is a joy that I know will come and go, depending on the day...for the rest of my life. 

I am broken.  I am not the same mom I wanted to be.  I am not the same mom I intended to be as I learned my limitations with each new birth.  Now that no new babies will bless this house, I am learning how to be a "laying down mom".  Learning how to play, how to teach, how to love them from an inclined position.  The goal now is to work with my pain management doctors and figure out how to work with this new body.   How to redefine mom.  Soon, I hope my mind can also redefine broken.  That someday (I really hope soon) that I will be okay

Dear Reader,   I really hope you check out the links to her songs.  I took much time to find just the right ones, just the right sound, just perfect to share.

If you do nothing else, listen/watch “Be Okay”.   My new favorite, and so perfect for this moment.

Low of 68, high of 71

Hate us.

That is the temperature inside our house.

Hate us bad.  Yes do.

Today.  Yesterday.  Everyday for to months.  Never above 71.

We are one of the rare families with air-conditioning.

I hate it this cold.  But I married a man who worked on a farm in 100+ heat until he left for college.  He got an education so he never has to sweat another day in his life.

I was going to keep our cool comfort a secret, until I read Amy’s blog.

Then I realized we may not be cool people, but have a cool house. 

FOR TRADE:  use of one 4 bedroom, 2 bath house that can stay below 70 AND bake lasagna.    4 lovely children come with the house.  (That’s the trade part) You can bring your own children.  Most messes won’t be noticed anyway.  Just feed your family, plus 4 extra.   Put your family to bed, plus 4 extra.  You can have the master bedroom suite.  It will be vacant.  Trades can be for 12-48 hours.  No advanced notice needed.  Mini-van comes with the house.  

 

This is not a joke blog.  This is real.  Send your applications to 6richins@gmail.com

Oh, and if I don’t know you, um…you aren’t staying at my house…{frownsmile}  Thanks for reading, though!

One heart in the right place

Last night I was nervous.  Surgery.  Family.  Pain.  Family.  Recovery.   My heart.....oh, my heart.   I failed my EKG.   So today I go in for an Echocardiogram, resting and on a treadmill. 

I gather from the panic in the nurses voice, that this could me that my surgery is postponed, or will change.  Like I'll be awake, but numb from the waist down.....I really am guessing, I can't think of a bad outcome.  I'm 30, my heart should be fine.  right?

 

Instead of worrying, I got busy being positive.  I had printed some positive photos I had on my phone.  Cute kids, flowers at Microsoft, lay down....

I knew I was going to taken them to the hospital, but what then....tape to an IV pole?  I wasn't sure.   Until last night. 

 

 

This is the finished project: a picture board to inspire me anywhere.  To big to be forgotten like a bag album.  Kay, you see why I love it?

I think I'm going to be okay.   For this week.   Please remember, I can't do this alone!

Please remember these next few weeks that I need to borrow you hope, your faith and your happiness.   I promise you'll get something good back.            Thank you.       Oh, God, bless us all!

On the 5th day before surgery, my angels did for me:

Six

given Easter dinner  (I won't embarrass her, but thanks for the complete Easter Dinner for our whole family.  I secretly wanted to be invited somewhere, and this was better.  Because the crying kids went to their rooms!  and the pie, oh I didn't know I loved Banana Cream Pie until Easter.  THANK YOU!!!)

 

Five

planted primrose (SPRING SPRING SPRING!)

 

 

Four

kids love their other mom (nanny Julie after taking Emily to a tea party, she also bought the tiara)

Three

back massages, (how could I put my back out right before surgery!!)

Two

on one last date,   Just talking and enjoying the new season.  (Spring blossom tour of Microsoft)

One

painless IUD removal (won't need it with tied tubes on Friday, so no more new pictures like this)

 

and encouragement that

I can keep this happy spirit

and

I'll do fine during surgery

.

Which is so priceless, it can't be counted.

Now we have to postpone the surgery

All this planning, plane tickets, nanny's on contract, friends and church and school and coop people ready to help.

And now it all has to be put on hold.  

The pain won't be fixed on April 17.

I'm

so

shocked

how

everything

can

change

because

of

one

tiny

line

well...this sure gives us allot to think about.  Yes, the cell phone took a crappy photo.   I swear, this is my real test with a real second line. 

I don't even want to think about the yelling my doctors will do.

My postpartum OB(that I've had since the day I moved here)  said she would quit if I was pregnant again. 

If she was serious, does anyone know any docs that test and use natural RX for estrogen and progesterone deficiencies?

I guess I better tell Grant before someone tells him.  Maybe I can text him?  Or just email this link?   I love you Grant!  I was using birthcontrol!  Call me when you are calm.  Grant will be an awesome dad of 5.

UPDATE::  Grant knows now.  See his response at his blog

Hide and Seek

Where's Alex? (can you see him?)

Peek-A-Boo!

Alex is such a good big brother!

He did this over and over just to get a laugh from Mark and Mom!

Too bad this angle didn't capture the heart-melting smile on Alex and Mark!

We got a puppy!

He lives in the living room (wood floors), on an old blanket and pillow.

Mark thinking he's in control of the leash

Katelyn, barking and shaking like the cold puppy

Mark and Katelyn stick their fingers in to compete for puppy licks.  They loved it on the first day....now two weeks later, not so much!

Emily plays and runs with the puppy, when she will put him down.

Alex even puts up with the puppy's natural play activities.

So, do you still think we're crazy for getting a new puppy with all the health problems on top of caring for 2 kids still in diapers?

.

.

.

.

.

.WE THINK WE'RE CRAZY TOO!

.

.

.

.

That's why we didn't do it.

This is Nanny Julie, the puppy's real mom!

His name is Havoc.  He's a French/English Bull Dog.  He was 8 weeks old when Julie got him, and he started coming to work with her. 

And he's incredibly cute and fun for the 8 hours he's with us. 

And he's even cuter at night when he cries at Julie's house and not ours!

And yes, I am allergic to dogs.  But he's so cute, it's therapeutic.  So I just take extra Benadryl to deal with it.  Besides, he's so tiny, and shedding so tiny (for now)

Oct 2009 Update: Why I am NOT strong or an example of faith

Dear Readers: 

This is part 2 of 3 of a letter.  In the interest of time, I have copied from a letter I wrote to my new friend, Nikola.  She had written me a praising, uplifting letter.  I’ve used bold font to show clips from her letter.  Then I respond to them. 

So if you want to find the answer to these, read on! 

Do you ever say -"WHY ME..."  "Why doesn't this get better?"    You deserve to have days when you are down and feeling sorry for yourself -

You are such a good person and trying to keep your faith and take care of yourself and your family all while you are in PAIN.  I ADMIRE YOU SO MUCH.   (And) seeing your example of staying strong through difficult times is going to be very good for them.

You have already shown Satan that you will never give in or lose your faith.

Seeing your example of staying strong through difficult times is going to be very good for them

What does your husband do?  Is he able to work from home sometimes so he can be there to help you with the children?  I'm sure this is very hard on him too

Thank, Nikola, for thinking so highly of me.  I have my responses below.  So hold on and get comfortable!

.

Do you ever say -"WHY ME..."  "Why doesn't this get better?"    You deserve to have days when you are down and feeling sorry for yourself -

I've spent much time feeling sorry for myself.  Hating my situation.  Hating God, since I felt very impressed when it was time to have each child.   How could God want me to have kids, knowing that this would be the result?  I couldn't even hold my last baby for half of the first 18 months of his life. 

I feel frustrated at God that he let this happen. I feel that more than “why me.” We felt very inspired to have a 4^th child. We even questioned God several times. We had family members openly against our choice. I even had several early miscarriages, and took something like 6 months to even get pregnant. I’ve been reading a lot about chronic pain. I’ve learned that anger is a separate symptom of pain. I am sure filled with anger.  I can think of many times that I've been overly frustrated at Grant and/or the kids, and yelled more than normal.  Then I realize that I'm in pain that it was quietly building.  If I just take some time to rest or take meds or both, I feel less angry.   Because of that, I don't think I'm one to be admired.  I've hated this, I've been kicking and screaming the whole time, and I've felt very left out of life.  I still feel that our pleas for help were ignored.  But I hope that I will see it differently when this is all past.  If it ever passes. No, when the worse has passed, and I get used to what's left.

You are such a good person and trying to keep your faith and take care of yourself and your family all while you are in PAIN.  I ADMIRE YOU SO MUCH.   (And) seeing your example of staying strong through difficult times is going to be very good for them.

Don't feel like a good, faithful, strong person.  I'm a broken person. I know how much I've turned to swearing to express the pain and anger.  Even though I'm trying to keep it in my head more, it's still there.  I'm currently averaging 20 swears toward my family during the weekend, and 15 during the week.    And those numbers ARE me doing better.  So how can that be admirable?    I don't feel like I'm strong.  I've felt more pain that most of all my doctor's (and dentists) patients.  I've cried out in that pain.  I've curled up in a ball and given up so many times.  I've woken up, sad that I woke up and had to face another day in pain.  Update…since I wrote this I’ve been actively and painfully stopping myself from swearing. My family has realized how hard it is for me and is celebrating my efforts. You’d think I was potty training. Really, I guess its potty mouth training.

How is that an example of a strong woman?  How is that admirable?   I've heard that said by so many women, how they admire me for going thru this, that they think I'm so much stronger than them.   I guess I must look nicer than I feel, because I don't see it. Or maybe because I can make a few muscles turn my lips into a smile...maybe it’s that smile that people think that I'm strong and  worth admiring.  When instead, maybe I'm tired of crying. 

And keeping the faith, and all that.  Oh, that's not me at all.  As I said before, I've hated God.  I don't see how this is going to make me a better mother.  I've felt....removed?  left out?  invisible?...of church, of Relief Society.   At the beginning, I returned to church quickly after surgeries.  I wanted to be there.  Because I could lie down at church just as well as at home.  I was going to be in pain either way, and I'd rather get to talk to a few new faces than be at home in bed.  It's funny, because AFTER I got better, being just in chronic pain instead of acute pain, I stopped wanting to go to church. I've only kept going because of my husband's stubborn insistence.  It was easier to go than have all the questions and pressure.  

I've watched friendship disappear.  Groups of friends going on without me in gatherings, carpools, visiting.   I've fought with leaders.  I've felt ignored and forgotten.   2 Wise women have stood by me, encouraging me to take the higher road.  Encouraging me to read the scriptures, to pray, to hang on to whatever faith I can.  That faith comes in spurts.  Watching general conference has been a big boast.  I wouldn't have said those two months ago.

I AM NOT STRONG. Grant is strong. Grant has carried our family thru this. Grant has made me strong. Grant is amazing. I get my strength thru him. I keep my faith because of him. Even this paragraph isn’t enough to thank him, or tell about him.  Just because I’m alive doesn't mean that I’m strong.  I feel broken inside.  Sadly, I feel like a victim to my bad health and the reactions of others.

You have already shown Satan that you will never give in or lose your faith.

I have lost my faith many times.  I have cried thru church.  I have walked the hallways to avoid going into Relief Society.  I have mentally checked out of classes, because I was overwhelmed.  I would replay movies or think thru a book plot to keep myself in my chair.  I would think about what food I would treat myself with if I stayed in the room.  Often that meant running into the house for an ice cream cone the way most people would run for the bathroom. 

I must say that I despise the story of the rolling rock that is often used in lessons.  So far, I have found no scriptures that back it up.  You know the story, “I am like a rock, rolling down the hill.  When I rub against others, I lose a corner here or there.  In the end, I am a smooth, polished rock” 

If I’m a rock, I’m in pretty bad shape.  I don’t feel like I’ve lost any corners.  I feel like this trial has left cracks in my rock.   I can’t be alone.  But stories about people who didn’t grow and learn from their trials are not in the Ensign.   So some people’s faith grows the best during trials.  I haven’t experienced that. 

Seeing your example of staying strong through difficult times is going to be very good for them

You can see from the above faith and anger stuff, that I don't think I've been strong.  Maybe it's just because I'm in the middle of this.  I hope I have set other examples for them. My kids are growing so fast, so they have kept me going better than I would have been without them.  I've tried to hurry anything that will get me functioning enough to be part of their lives before they grow up.  This includes using strong meds (2 anti-seizure meds good for nerve pain, opioids, MS muscle spasm drugs).  These meds could affect me badly later in life.  This biggest risk could be addiction to the opiates.  I'm willing to risk that, and so are my doctors.  Raising my babies is the best part of my life.  And I'll do anything to have more of this time. 

What does your husband do?  Is he able to work from home sometimes so he can be there to help you with the children?  I'm sure this is very hard on him too

Grant is a computer programmer. Because of his job, we’ve had complete insurance coverage. I’ve already hit 100,000 for the last 2 years. His work allows him to from home. Finding working from home has mentally not been possible.

We've had a nanny for over a year, so my husband can work, and I could heal.  And have a surgery.  And heal.  And repeat.  Honestly, we tried having him work from home.  His work was supportive.  It turned out horrible.  He really needed some time removed from the situation to stay sane.  Work was the only place that problems could be fixed.  Just from this being asked this question, you are aware that chronic illness is a family illness.  This has been very hard on Grant.  He can't take a pill.  He doesn't get to nap.  If I think about it, what has helped him most is the nanny having a hot dinner on the table when he gets home from work.  

Instead of working from home, we've had a string of nannies for months, before a friend introduced us to "Nanny Julie".  For the last year, she's kept this family running.  She's been the strong one, the helpful one.  We've been so blessed to have the resources to have a nanny during the work day.  Our penny pinching early days really helped us out.    My husband jokes that paying for a nanny hasn't been that bad.  When I was bedridden for so long, I couldn't shop.  Our budget had much unspent money in food, clothes, kids stuff, household stuff, eating out.  All because HE had to do the shopping and HE only shops from the list.   

When I ask him how he coped with all the extra duties, and nursing me, and my grumpy moon, he said this:  There are needs and there are wants.  You don’t have a choice when it comes to needs.  No matter how tired you are, load the dishwasher.  Start the laundry.   Wants are another matter.  I’ve been very negative towards him about wants.  I felt bad for that, and said sorry.  He says he doesn’t even think about it, if he can’t change it.  So he wasn’t bothered by it.   What a great man!

Phew, if you made it this far, you’re either my shrink or a stalker.  As Kevin Bacon once said, as long as you have stalkers,  you know you’re still famous.  Stalk on, my friends, stalk on!

want to see the rest of the letter?  Part 1, Part 3,