Croup

 Earlier this month Caleb woke up in the middle of the night not feeling well. His breathing was pretty labored and for a while I thought it was an athsma attack. We put him in a warm bath, used eucalyptus on his chest, and David gave him a blessing. Even after he finally fell asleep I stayed in his bed and slept with my face right next to his for the rest of the night to make sure that he was breathing okay. I kept telling myself that I would call the doctor FIRST thing in the morning, but when he woke up he was fine. I watched him for the whole day, then just hoped that it was a one-time thing. But that night, after only 30 minutes of being asleep his breathing started becoming more labored - so I called our after-hours instacare and set up an appointment for that night. 

They were immediately confident that it was croup- a textbook case (which was funny how relieved I was to have it be diagnosed NOT-covid, even though croup is pretty scary). Poor guy fell asleep right on the examination table - but they were able to give him some steroids and told me that they were glad I brought him in because the second night was usually worse than the first. They said that after that it usually turns to a nasty cold that lasts about two weeks. 

I asked how contagious croup is and the doctors answer for tips of how to keep it from spreading to my other kids had me shaking my head thinking "yeah - everyone in my house is going to get this." The person I was worried the most about was Lucy, but thankfully she only got a stuffy nose for a couple of days. In fact, all of the kids just got small colds and were mostly fine within just a few days. 

I, however, got the brunt of it. I didn't feel well for the next three weeks. Not dramatically-awful. Just an exhausted, achy, sneezy, low-energy several weeks. I'm finally feeling slightly better, but man. I guess sleeping with your face RIGHT in the breath of someone sick with croup is NOT a good idea. I'm glad that it wasn't worse and that we are all on the mend. 

(And by glad, I mean incredibly grateful to Heavenly Father. When I realized it was croup and that it could have been VERY dangerous I felt awful for not just taking Caleb in to the ER the first night. It's so hard to know how serious something is in the middle of the night. Also SO grateful for modern medicine.) 

Wednesday

I've been trying to go visit my Grandma and Grandpa Walker about twice a month (every other Wednesday), but haven't been up since the week before Christmas. We wanted to go last Wednesday, but Austin and Lydia still weren't feeling awesome and I didn't want to expose my Grandma to our sick-germs. So this week when we were feeling decent, I texted my Aunt Kim to see if it would work if we came to visit. It was going to work out great and I was looking forward to seeing my grandparents again.

I woke up this morning at 5:00 am to finish getting our things packed up and in the car. Pack and play, outfits to change into, snacks, toys, lunch, coats, shoes, blankets, waterbottles, etc... Then I put both sleeping kids into the car, too. Lydia was so sweet; in her sleepy voice she said, "Are we going to Grandma-Great's now? I'm so excited to see the dark outside!" I had checked the weather and it said that there was going to be light snow in Evanston but I thought "light snow - that should be fine". There was no snow when I left but it started slushing a little bit when I hit Parley's Canyon. By the time I was close to Park City it was snowing hard enough for me to start getting a little nervous. It wasn't SO bad, but I was nervous. I pulled off at Park City and checked the weather again. It still said "light snow" for Evanston, but "snow showers" for Park City. So I thought - okay, I'm in the middle of the worst of it and it's not so bad, I'll just push thought this and the snow will let up a bit.

I got back on the road and it was significantly worse than it had been. I was driving about 35-40 miles an hour and was starting to get really scared of sliding off the road. There were big trucks that were cruising by me, which made me panic every time, and I could feel my tires slipping a little on the road. It definitely wasn't the worst snow storm that I've ever driven in. In all honesty, I've driven in much worse. But having my kids in the back seat, having it be dark outside, and knowing that my tires aren't the greatest was giving me serious worries. I started praying out loud "Please, Heavenly Father, keep us safe." Over and over and over again. I told myself that I'd pull off at the next exit. I just needed to make it to the next exit and then I would evaluate what I needed to do, but first I just needed to get us safe.

I'm writing all of this down because of what happened next. As I prayed, there were several times that I could feel my tires slipping beneath me. I was sure that we were going to go off the road. It was dark, but I could just make out some very steep drop-offs right off the road. I was nervous, and preparing for the worst, but I just kept praying for safety. Out loud: "Please keep us safe." And in my heart: "Please lead us to a safe place." Each time I felt my tires slipping, somehow we stayed right on the road. (It felt like we were slipping off the road, but we stayed right in our lane.) An exit came up, but it was for a lookout and the exit looked snowed over and it was up a hill. I wasn't sure we'd make it. So I made the decision to try for the next exit. It was a hard choice because I was so worried on the road and so scared of sliding off. But a few more miles down the road and there was an exit for Wanship/Kamas. We made it to the exit and saw a little gas station right off the exit. We pulled into a snowy parking space and I prayed my gratitude for our safety and for my Heavenly Father's guiding hand. Again, it wasn't the worst snow I've ever driven in - but I was so nervous and so grateful to have gotten to a place of safety.

I sent this text to David at 6:58 am, "It's snowing. Not so bad, but I'm nervous. I'm in Kamas. Going to wait for it to get light before I decide whether to keep going or not." I thought that after it got light, with a little more warmth and a few more cars/snowplows on the road it would be okay. Lydia was asleep but Austin wanted to get out, so I let him come and pretend to drive the car until Lydia woke up. Then we headed into the gas station to get some breakfast.

This gas station. Not your average gas station. "The Rafter-B Gas"n"Grub." A little log cabin-esque building. The bathrooms were tiiiiiiiiny. Like, tiny sink, tiny toilet, tiny tiny room. Lydia loved them. And the people were so kind. When we first got there we walked around for a little bit. I let Lydia pick a couple of candies, grabbed some donuts and skittles, then picked out a breakfast sandwich. All the while there were 3-4 older gentlemen hanging out by the register. I wasn't sure which ones were working and which were just chatting, but it was so funny to see these gruff-but-kind grandpa type men (for my family, they reminded me of Frankie Little) hanging out at the gas station at 7:30 on such a snowy morning. They were all so kind to me and asked me where we were headed and if we needed any help. I told them that we were headed to Lyman, just past Evanston, but that we didn't want to drive anywhere until the snow let up a bit. You could tell that they were worried, and said that I was welcome to stay in the gas station (even though Lydia had just picked up the entire display box of fruity lemon-heads off the shelf and Austin was trying to run away through the store). They rang up all of my stuff, but after I paid, I realized I had forgotten to put the sucker that Austin was holding on the counter. They had a sign posted saying there was a $5 minimum purchase for credit cards. So I told them that I would just take Lydia's sucker away and keep that one (he'd been sucking on the wrapper). The owner, named Dave, told me to just keep it - that it was on the house - at the same time that one of the other gentlemen there threw a couple of quarters on the counter to take care of it. We thanked them and then headed back out into the snow to sit in our car and eat our breakfast.

We sat there for the next 3.5-4 hours. At about 8:00, we found out that I-80 over the Sisters in Wyoming were closed. About every hour I decided that I was going to brave it, but then I'd call David to tell him and we'd talk and I'd decide to just stay put for a while longer. For a while I was worried that we were going to be stuck there all day - the forecast looked pretty gloomy. I was scared to get back on the road, because right where we were - we were safe. But I couldn't guarantee how things would go if we got back on the road. I was really just so grateful to be off the roads, and doubly grateful that my cell phone still worked so I could call David. That area is only about 5-10 miles until my phones loses service for good. It's such a blessing that I hadn't lost service completely.

During this time of checking and rechecking the weather, playing games on the ipad and playing with Lydia's sticker book, and letting the kids climb around in the backseat, the good people of Rafter-B kept checking up on me. The owner Dave, called his wife, Kim,  to come over to check up on me. I think he sees a lot of bad situations and was worried about a young woman and two kids being all alone. She showed up and made sure that we were doing okay. A little later, one of the men from inside came and knocked on my window. His name was Bill (and after he left - Kim told me that he used to be the Mayor of Henefer).  He told me that he was really concerned about me trying to get to Evanston and seemed relieved when I told him that my plans had changed and I was just waiting until I felt comfortable enough to head home. Lydia and Austin were both on my lap at the time and he asked Lydia if she wanted a treat. I said that she didn't need one, but she piped up and said she wanted a sucker. He asked what color and she said orange. After getting my approval, he went back inside and came back a while later with two bottles of chocolate milk, and a whole bunch of suckers. He had two bags, one filled with orange suckers and the other filled with red suckers. It was so kind, I had a hard time keeping my emotions in check as I was saying thank you. Several more times they came out to check on us and make sure that we were doing okay.

About 10:00, I saw that Parley's canyon had been closed both ways unless you had chains. Seriously?! The weather did NOT say that it was going to be so bad. I felt like such an idiot for getting caught in such a bad snow storm. I also feel so bad that I wasn't able to make it to my Grandma and Grandpa's. I know that they would have loved to see Lydia and Austin. I know it would have been a help to them. And, now that we didn't go this week - I don't know when we'll get back up, because I tentatively made plans for next Wednesday because I thought that it would be our off week. I just feel bad all around. But, I also feel so grateful. 

I prayed for a place of safety for my children and I. In my head, I pictured a space where my car could sit and where we wouldn't have to worry about the traffic on the snowy road. But Heavenly Father provided a place where we were watched over by kind people who were concerned and willing to take care of us. They didn't even know my name. (I didn't know their names either until right before I was leaving.) I have no doubt that if I had been in real need, they would have offered even more to me. We were kept warm and safe. We had good food and more suckers than my kids could even handle. I posted these pictures (in a collage) to Instagram with this caption:

Although it was not snowing when I left at 5:30 this morning, headed to visit my grandparents in Wyoming -nor did the weather forecast appear too bad - we are now going on 3.5 hours stuck in Wanship, UT. The roads are closed both East and West of us. However, my prayers were answered as I prayed for safety from the snowy roads and for a safe place to stay until the storm passed. Who knew the Rafter B Gas and Grub would be such a blessing (in direct answer to heartfelt prayer). They've let us sit in their parking lot, come out to check on us several times, and even brought out some chocolate milk and treats. (The owner asked Lydia what treat she wanted and she requested an orange sucker. He came back with two bags full of suckers. One bag of orange and one bag of red.) Counting my blessings: We are safe. We are warm. We have people looking out for us. I have phone service. I have internet. My kids are doing great. It's an adventure to be sure. #sogratefultobesafeandwarm

We left about 11:25. So almost 4 and a half hours of just waiting in the car, but I'm so glad we waited so long. As we drove down the canyon there were a few times that I thought "We probably could have left sooner, there isn't even any snow on the roads." But then a giant truck would drive past right as I encountered a slushy patch of road and I'd think "Oh no! We're still going to slide off." I'm just so glad we didn't try to leave sooner. I'm so sad that we didn't make it to Wyoming, but I am so grateful that we were blessed and protected. It's easy to look back at this and think that we were just really lucky, but at the time I absolutely knew that we were being protected by the Lord's hand. How good and kind He is. Today I am grateful to feel His love and have his protection. 

Now we are home and so glad to be here. 

So, so, so glad to be home.#safeandsound

Visiting (Morgan & Wyoming)

This week David had to travel to Kemmerer, WY for an auditing job. He really didn't want to have to go, considering our tiny baby boy is still so... new. I was a little/a lot nervous to be left alone with Austin and Lydia for the 5 days he would be gone and so I was more grateful than ever that my parents live so close and that we had arranged to be able to go and stay with them for the week. I'm still not feeling like I'm back into a routine and each day seems more like surviving than thriving, and adjusting is taking longer than I had hoped that it would.

We missed David terribly, but I was overcome with gratitude for my family. I have such a wonderful support system. Not only did my mom and dad welcome us with loving arms and help to take care of us, my little sister Jenna came down from Idaho to help and visit. I couldn't have done it without them. One of the first nights I was there, after I had put Lydia down for bed and finally gotten Austin to sleep, I laid my head down in my mother's lap and cried. She stroked my hair and rubbed my shoulders and let me cry about how hard it was. At that moment, after a terribly long day of having two little ones need me so much and feeling like I was coming up short at every turn, I needed nothing more than to go to my mother and have her hold me and tell me that everything was going to be all right. It was such a blessing to me, and when my baby started crying again - calling to me to come and comfort him - I thanked my sweet and wonderful mother for taking care of me once again. With every day that I am a mother, I grow more and more grateful for the time and effort and love that my mother shared with me when I was a little one. She was the one to care for me and comfort me in the middle of the night then, and here she was 27 years later doing the exact same thing. Through the following nights, she (and Jenna) helped to take care of Lydia while I held Austin and to hold Austin while I slept. What a huge blessing to me.

Also during the week, we decided to take a little day trip to Wyoming to visit my grandparents. My dad has wanted to get Lydia up on a tractor for months and months and the timing worked out for us to be able to go up there and let them meet Austin, let Lydia play with the tractors and cows, and to be able to visit with my grandparents. There is something special about seeing your own grandparents hold your baby. Lydia and Austin are lucky - they have seven living great-grandparents (although we only see five on a semi-regular basis).

After we visited for a while, my dad and grandpa took Lydia on and adventure around the ranch and I was able to sit and talk with my grandma. It was such a sweet and tender experience for me. You know, I don't know that I've ever gone to Wyoming to just talk to my grandparents. It makes me a little sad to admit that, but usually when we go to Grandma & Grandpa's house - it's for something. Branding, birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc... And there are usually lots of people hanging around. Also, I'm usually out with my dad, doing stuff on the ranch and helping out with whatever they need. It's not often that I stay behind in the house. But this day, I sat with my baby and just talked with my grandma. It was so wonderful and such a lovely, uplifting afternoon. 

We started talking about how quickly my labor and delivery had been with Austin, which led my grandma to start talking to me about her life. My grandma lives in a small town in the middle-of-nowhere Wyoming. The closest big city is Evanston about an hour away, and the closest real-big city is Ogden, UT - about 2 hours away. With her first baby, my Aunt Susan, she was in labor pretty comparable to Lydia - about 24 hours. With her second, my Aunt Wendy, she was in labor for days. She said that she went to the hospital two or three times over the course of several days and finally she just begged them to let her stay. With her third, my uncle Marti, she was in labor for a matter of hours. She had to beg my grandpa to pack up the older two girls and take her to the hospital. Understandably (after the previous labor taking so long and going to the hospital so many times), my grandpa wasn't in a terribly big hurry - although he did as she asked and made beds in the back of the truck for the girls and drove her to the hospital. She was rushed into the delivery room and the doctor delivered the baby before my grandpa even made it inside with the girls. My grandma told me how the doctor joked with her "Verla, you could have at least waited for me to get my white coat on." because she had delivered so quickly and she said how she still remembered the look on my grandpa's face when he entered the room with one girl in each arm. When she talked about the birth of my dad, she made me cry as she talked about how sweet he was and how much love he brought to their family. 

She then continued to tell me about how when my dad was a baby, he wasn't able to nurse very well and she ended up giving him formula for much of his infancy. But this formula was brownish in color and because they got their water from a well by their house, the water always had an orange hue. (It was safe to drink - it was just orange.) When my dad would spit-up it would stain his clothing terribly and she always struggled to keep it clean. They had running water in their house, but they didn't have a washing machine. In fact, they didn't have an indoor toilet either, but used an out-house about 20-30 feet from their home. To do the laundry, my grandma would pack up all of her children and go to the laundromat in town, until it burned down. After that she had to go to the laundromat in Evanston (about an hour away.) Finally, my grandpa bought her a washboard to use in her sink to wash the clothes at home. They lived in that house for seven years and then they built a new red-brick home right next to and eventually got a washer and dryer. As I listened to my grandma, I was was filled with admiration for the humble woman sharing her story with me. 

I'm a believer that everyone has their own "hard" in their lives, and just because someone else's hard is different than your own hard doesn't mean that it's still not... hard. But talking to my grandma definitely helped me put my own life into perspective. It's hard to not be sleeping, and to feel like you aren't giving enough attention to either of your children, and to not feel capable of staying up on the household tasks that just a few weeks ago were easy. But, not only do I have a washer and dryer of my own - it's set up in a beautiful laundry room with a window and counter. My baby may need to eat all the time, but he's a stellar nurser and even just a few weeks in - I feel like we've got it down. My toddler might want my attention all of the time, but she has plenty of things to play with and she absolutely knows that she is loved. I cried as talked to my grandma, because although her life and my life may seem SO so different - she expressed her love for her children and grandchildren in every word that she spoke. And that love spoke straight to my heart. I love my two little ones, and I love their daddy, and someday - God willing, I will sit in an old rocking chair and tell my granddaughter about how much I loved being a mother even through the hard times and hopefully give her hope that she, too, can overcome the hard things and enjoy her life as she raises a wonderful family. 

While mommy was talking Lydia was out adventuring on the ranch: 

Not only did Lydia get to ride on tractors, pet/ride the horses, and see the cows - but she also got to help grandpa feed the cats AND ride on the tire swing. As long as I can remember my grandma has always saved the scrap food to bring out to feed to the wild cats in the yard. As we were talking, she told me that she doesn't like to take the food out anymore because the cats basically swarm her at the door. She said that last week three of the cats got into the house before she could close the door and my grandpa had to hunt them down. We laughed as they described how grandpa had to put on gloves to pull one of the cats out from behind the computer by the tail and how one of them bit grandma on the toe (not a funny thing for grandma). I realize that's so random - but it's a story to record. 

This tree was our favorite place to play at Grandma and Grandpa's house growing up. Most of the branches were so steep that only the "older" kids could play on them - but we spent hours and hours and hours playing in the tree. Now almost all of the branches are so big and heavy that they are almost horizontal - and last year a bunch of the boys cut off our very favorite branch because it was almost on the ground and was starting to crush some of the farm equipment behind the tree. It's sad to see the tree get so old - but I still have hope that Lydia and Austin will be able to make memories in that tree as well. 

It was a wonderful to visit with my grandparents. I know that they didn't always have the easiest life and that their relationship had ups and downs, but to see them together now is so amazing. My grandpa takes such good care of my grandma and they love each other so much. They love the family that they have built together and I am grateful for their example to me. 

Before we left, Lydia found another of her favorite things - a trampoline. 

It wasn't the most ideal thing to have David have to leave for an Audit engagement so soon after Austin was born, but we survived (thanks in large part to my wonderful family). We are so glad to be home and will hopefully find a good routine for our new little family soon. 

Boy!

**Note: This post is extremely sensitive and personal. It was hard to adequately explain all our emotions in the way that they deserve, and hard to balance my desire to record our life experiences in our family journal with the knowledge that by posting it on the internet others will read this post. If you decide to read on, please do so with no judgement and lots of understanding in your heart.**

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That's right my friends, Baby #2 is a BOY! 

We are so excited for this little man to come and join us. We know that he is meant for us and that he is going to be the perfect addition to balance out our family. I can't wait to dress he and Lydia up in matching dress/bow tie sets, watch her love on him, and snuggle him all the time. 

In the weeks leading up to our 20 week appointment I started feeling more and more strongly that the little baby growing inside of me was a boy - not a girl. At first I tried to talk myself out of it because of how much we wanted a little sister close to Lydia, but I quickly started getting excited about the prospect of having a little boy and was afraid that I would be so sad if I was wrong! (I had totally convinced myself that Lydia was a boy and was shocked when they said girl.) Going into the appointment I had no idea what to expect gender-wise, but we were excited to be able to see out little baby on the monitor and see his beating heart and all the parts of his little body. 

For some reason I was feeling very anxious about the appointment. In fact, the night before I was so nervous that when Ashley chatted with me and asked if I was excited I told her that I was terrified. We laughed it off as "afraid-of-the-unknown" jitters. The next day (the day of the appointment) I was so nervous I was making myself sick just thinking about it and seriously considered calling and rescheduling the appointment - which was completely absurd and irrational! I had no idea why I was feeling so nervous, but when David got home from work we said a prayer and headed to our appointment. (We are so lucky that David can come to so many appointments - we love his job!) 

We headed straight to the Ultrasound area and were called back pretty quickly. They started the ultrasound and within just a few minutes they told us that he was a little boy! We were so happy and a little shocked... It's crazy how just one little word can mean such a big difference to the future. The technician kept going through the ultrasound, but was much less enthusiastic about what she was doing than I hoped she would be. Lydia's Ultrasound Tech was so happy and chatty - she told us everything she was looking at, exactly what it was supposed to look like, and ended every sentence with - "it looks just like it should". Baby Boy's tech was friendly, but stuck to the basics "This is the kidney.... *pause while looking from all different angles and taking several pictures.* And this is the stomach *another long pause*." I was still feeling very nervous and I was glad to have David so close by. He was holding Lydia and she was watching the monitor, but got a little bored after a while. David stood close to me and I held Lydia's hand/rubbed her back while we watched. 

It's easy to say retrospectively, but I just knew something was wrong. It was hard for me to keep my tears in check and the I couldn't shake the feeling of dread in my stomach. The lack of conversation from our technician contributed to my unease but I kept praying that everything would be okay. The tech kept saying that the baby was at a difficult angle and she was having some trouble getting some pictures of the things that she wanted. (His head was down and to my left side with his bum up and to my right.) His body was throwing some weird ultrasound-shadows on itself. She never actually ended up getting a profile shot because she couldn't see his face very well. She finished up, printed out our pictures and sent us upstairs. I was still feeling a little unsettled, and hadn't actually processed that we were having a boy quite yet! (I knew it, but hadn't really had time to think about it - I was still feeling so worried.) 

We headed up to Dr. Clowards office (whom I love), went to the bathroom (it's seriously a joke that they have to do the ultrasound on a full bladder!) and waited for the nurse to come in. She came and did all of the preliminary testing (blood pressure, etc..) and as she was leaving she mentioned that the Ultrasound Tech had seen something that she was concerned about, but that Dr. Cloward would address it with us when she came in. 

My mind immediately went a million directions at once. When Dr. Cloward came in, she said that the ultrasound tech had noticed an Echogenic Heart Focus in one of the chambers of baby boys heart, and that it is a soft marker that can mean a higher probability of Down Syndrome. We listened as she explained what that meant. She followed up by saying that she wasn't sure it was a true Echogenic Focus in the heart (*insert deep breath - thinking that she would say she wasn't worried*), but that she was more concerned with what the ultrasound was showing in the stomach/bowel. She gave us a quick run through of what an ultrasound should look like (white = bone, black = water, grey = tissue) and explained that she was seeing much more white tissue than grey tissue in the bowel area. This is called Echogenic Bowl Syndrome. It can be caused by the baby swallowing blood and can also be another soft marker for Down Syndrome. She told us that the ultrasound wasn't very clear and that we could either come in again in two weeks for another ultrasound, or she could refer us to a specialist and go there in two weeks for a follow up appointment. If we came back to our office in two weeks, and they still say the irregularities then we would wait two more weeks to go to the specialist. 

We got our appointment with the Maternal Fetal Medicine section of the Utah Valley Regional Medical Center set up, because we figured it would be better to just go straight there and we headed home. 

It's hard to blog and adequately capture all of the feelings that we felt that day and through the next couple of weeks. Worry, concern, and fear of the unknown - but also love, support, and faith. David, my ever calming presence, continually reminded me to take the diagnosis for what it was and not be more worried than what the situation called for. He gave me the most beautiful blessing and blessed me with courage, faith, and patience. 

Honestly, it's hard to have the doctors give you such bombshell information and then ten minutes later you walk out the door with the instructions to just wait for two weeks. It's hard not to be scared for what the future holds for this tiny baby that you love so much. But, it's also amazing to watch the love and support come out of the woodwork. We didn't tell very many people, but those people that we shared our situation with were wonderful. They were kind, loving, and supportive. Many, many prayers were offered on our behalf - and on behalf of our little boy. It was apparent that, no matter the outcome, our son would be loved and accepted into our family and community. It's brought be great comfort to think about my baby and realize that if he was to be born with down syndrome - what better family for him to be born into than ours, who will love him and have the support system in place to get him all the things that he needs. This was such a blessing, because although I had several of my very closest family members say that they felt that everything was going to end up being fine at the followup ultrasound - I didn't ever feel that confirmation during my days and nights that were filled with prayers. I did feel that everything would be okay in the end, no matter what happened - but my prayers always turned to asking the Lord to help me be the Mother than this precious little boy deserved and to praying for him that he would be able to develop a testimony of the gospel and have the desire to be a true disciple of Jesus Christ.  

I've committed to never again saying "We don't care if it's a boy or girl, as long as it's healthy." Because, the thing is - what if it's not? What if this baby is born with Down Syndrome, or Cystic Fibrosis, or a heart defect, or Autism, or even just a really weak immune system? Then what? Will he be any less loved? Will he be any less valuable? No. Not to me. (These articles go more in depth on my feelings on this subject, HERE and HERE.) All babies are blessings. 

I want the best for my children, and I want this sweet baby boy to have as many opportunities for happiness and a strong, healthy, life as possible. It's hard to balance that desire with the defensiveness I feel for him, that he should be loved no matter what. We have prayed every day that he will be healthy, but also that he will know he is loved. 

A few days after we had our 20 week appointment I woke up and was able to see through my fear and I was able to let my faith take hold. I cleaned my bathroom, found some dry-erase markers and wrote: 

FAITH. COURAGE. PATIENCE.

HAPPINESS. GRATITUDE.

And, underneath I started a list of baby boy names. Logan, Conner, Oliver, Cooper, James. It was time to start moving forward with faith.

Tuesday, May 27th - we had our appointment with our specialist at Maternal Fetal Medicine. My mom came down to watch Lydia and David took the day off work. (Actually he worked from home in the morning and then took the afternoon off.) We were both pretty apprehensive but fairly calm, and grateful for all our family and friends who were sending their love and prayers our way. I was less upset before this appointment than I was at the one two weeks before, although the idea that the results from todays ultrasound would make a huge difference in our lives was pretty daunting. We knew going into it that many things could happen: they could find the same soft markers for Down Syndrome and 18 weeks later baby boy could be born with Down Syndrome; they could find the same soft markers and 18 weeks later baby boy could be born without Down Syndrome (a soft marker is just an indicator, it just means it's a higher possibility, not a surety); they could find different problems with their in depth ultrasound; they could find that the abnormalities had disappeared/weren't there in the first place and then 18 weeks later our baby boy would be born without any issues; or they could find that the abnormalities had disappeared/weren't there and 18 weeks later baby boy could be born with any number of complications (including down syndrome). Basically, an ultrasound isn't a guarantee of anything - but it can go a long way to giving us an idea of what to prepare for.

The Ultrasound Tech came in and told us very clearly that she would tell us what she was looking at on the ultrasound, but that she would not be able to tell us her interpretation of the ultrasound or whether things looked normal or not. We tried to focus on the joy of seeing our baby boy again (she confirmed that it was a boy!), but it was difficult not to try to interpret the ultrasound ourselves or try to interpret her tone of voice/body language. We did get to see a really good profile shot of his handsome little face, but even that was overshadowed by the tone of the appointment. Towards the end I thought to myself that "He does have Down Syndrome" and was immediately filled with peace that it would be okay and that we would find a way, together, to make it through.

So when the Ultrasound Tech left and the doctor came in, I thought I had completely prepared myself for her words. She did a lot of explaining about things, most of it a blur, but then said that she didn't see either of the soft markers that showed up on our first ultrasound - and if we hadn't been sent to her, she never would have had any cause for concern in the first place. She went on to explain that the odds of a problem happening were much lower, but obviously weren't gone. My mind was so overwhelmed that sometimes I had a hard time following her, "Wait, did she just say that he was okay? Why is she telling us that now we have a 1 in 1,000 chance of Down Syndrome - isn't that really high? And why is she recommending we have followup tests done?". At the end, I had to clarify with her that she didn't see any markers for Echogenic Heart or Echogenic Bowel Syndrome - and that everything else on the ultrasound looked normal; it had honestly been that hard for me to absorb what she was saying. But she assured me that both she and the ultrasound tech had carefully looked over their very in depth ultrasound and only say a healthy baby boy who was growing exactly on track. (He measured 22 weeks and 2 days and we were at 22 weeks and 3 days.)

The doctor left and I started crying in the room, pulled myself together, then started crying again in the car. I didn't text my mom, because I was just trying to absorb everything. I know that this sounds crazy, but it was just as difficult for me to absorb that everything was normal as it was to absorb that there might be something wrong. Part of it was that I was afraid if I started telling people that it was okay, I'd wake up and we wouldn't have gone to our appointment yet. Part of it was that I'd been worrying and thinking and preparing for the other outcome and I wasn't sure what to do with all of that emotion- I didn't feel like I could just drop it all and pretend like nothing had happened. And part of is was/is that there isn't any guarantee that something won't go wrong, and I don't want to jinx anything. We told me mom when we got home, but didn't call anyone else until people started texting/calling us. It took me several days to start texting our friends to let them know the results. It's been three weeks since that appointment and I'm finally feeling settled enough to blog about it.

One thing I do know is that the blessing of a healthy ultrasound is 100% from the Lord. It would be easy to say "Well, it was a poorly done first ultrasound - there was never anything wrong in the first place." But that completely discounts all the prayers that were offered, the fasting that took place, and the faith that was placed in the Lord.  I think that the Lord knows what prayers will be offered and that he works miracles in the lives of his children - sometimes before they even are asking for them. I know that He has a plan for each one of his children. He has a plan for our little family, and He has a plan for our sweet baby boy. Each prayer, each day spend placing our faith in him, each testimony building experience is a part of that plan - and we are remiss if we fail to recognize his hand in the miracles of our lives.

We are so excited for this sweet baby boy to come into our lives. 15 more weeks now and we will be holding him in our arms. We already love him so much and know that he is meant to be in our family. We are grateful for the love and support that this sweet baby boy has surrounding him, and we can already feel that he has an important mission on this earth. He is very special and will grow into a man who lives and loves the Gospel and his Savior Jesus Christ. I can feel his potential surrounding him, like a great big halo of strength. I'm already grateful to be his mother, and pray that I can teach him and be the mother that this incredible spirit deserves.