Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Question of the Day

When drop kicking a teenager, is there a proper form or technique that one should use?

Just checking...

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Levi's adoption

This is his "say cheese" face
Way back when...

Levi's adoption-

I had been around babies before Levi. My own babies, of course, babies in my daycare, and nieces and nephews. Levi was different. He did some things there were different...and heartbreaking. I don't say that to be dramatic, but sometimes I would hold him and cry. Cry...because it was just so unfair. Unfair that he should have to suffer for something that was not his fault, and unfair because it was so preventable.

He would shake and twitch. He had aversion to movement, either swaying side to side in my arms or using the swing. He would shriek (can't think of a better word for it) out in his sleep. He had lower body stiffness, there are not any cute pix of him chewing on his toes because he wasn't able to get them anywhere near his mouth. His poop smelled like chemicals and it would make his bottom bleed. He still bears scars from the boils that would erupt all over his sweet little bum. The symptom that stuck around the longest was the snot. Sticky, thick snot that was like rubber cement. We were told that it was his body's way of getting rid of the junk that he had been exposed to.

When we met with our adoption worker for the first time, she laid it all out for us. Things that could still show up as he grew and developed, parts of his brain that could still show damage because drugs were used during crucial parts of his development. I broke down and sobbed shamelessly. It was just so upsetting to hear that my sweet, perfect son could have problems that would plague him for life. And upsetting because, even though my heart yearned for his path to be perfect, I couldn't control it and make the "what-if's" disappear.

I'm not going to go into details about Levi's biomom, or the reasons that her birth kids ended up being taken from her. We love her parents and her siblings and out of respect for them, I will refrain. But I will say that I have been angry, I still am at times, as she continues to slow up the finalization of his adoption. She has never made a choice that was in his best interest, not one time, and I don't know if she is capable.

Part of the reason that we are not final has to do with the system. The overloaded, makes no sense at times, crazy, lengthy, screwed-up system. We are at the mercy of the system. Luckily, Levi, is too young to know that we are not final...yet. We are certain that the day will come.

Here is the abbreviated version of the adoption so far-

*In the 8? years prior, biomom has been involved with DHS and has had her five other children taken and adopted by family members*
Levi born while biomom is in jail
Levi transported 2 hours each way for visits
Biomom out of jail and required to travel for visits
Biomom quits coming to visits
Biomom rejailed
Levi's plan changed to adoption
Biomom released from jail and disappeared
State starts absent parent search
***months later***
Biomom resurfaces back in jail
Biomom refuses to sign termination of parental rights papers
State takes biomom to court to take away rights
Sept 08 Judge does not even deliberate before taking away rights
Nov 08 Biomom files appeal
Apr 09 Appeal heard

I got a call from the AAG (Assistant Attorney General) yesterday and he informed me that arguments went really well. He said that it is "highly unusual" that anyone besides the attorneys are present during arguments. However, biomom showed up along with her entourage *insert eye roll*. I asked the AAG how long until the appeals court makes a decision and he said "they will take as long as they damn well want to". He then said that he was optimistic that we would hear something within a couple of months.

I said

What's that? No, I meant for that to be blank. That is where my jaw dropped open, came unhinged and rolled off down the floor.

Two more months for a decision on a "cut and dry", "slam-dunk" case is optimistic? What is there to think about?

In the meantime, to him, and us, he is home. That is what really matters. So, as usual, we wait...

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Being 3 means...

Being 3 means...

Believing Knowing that you are the Batman

Leaving a path of destruction behind you, all the time

Saying "I Love You" all the time, especially if you think it will get you out of trouble

Answering most questions with "Because"

Giving great hugs and kisses

Being loved by so many people that you are practically a celebrity

Happy 3rd Birthday Levi!

The game is on!

I hate spiders. I loathe them. I detest them. I think that they are the spawn of Satan

This isn't a secret at my house. My kids all know this.

So, this morning, when I opened my bedroom door and found this on the floor, I tinkled in my big girl panties I almost wet my pants.

They must not know that everyday I walk a line between being mentally competent and totally insane. That line is fine my friends, that line is fine.

How do they know that this wouldn't have pushed me over the edge? This could have been the straw that broke the camel's back, or as known around here, the final stitch in the strait jacket.

For now, no one is admitting fault. But I know that it didn't crawl there by itself **shudder**.

This means war!
The game is on...

Friday, April 24, 2009

White trash moment

First, just let me say that I absolutely love, love, love Halloween!

I big red puffy heart it!

So much that a couple of years ago I had my uncle build me a life size coffin for my 6 ft vampire, Count Edward, oh, I so wish Vigor.

But, the lazy busy people that we are, we never got around to putting the coffin back in the barn, where we keep it to scare the kids from going in there where it resides the rest of the year.

So, today, when I went out on the porch to check on the kids and saw Hannah on top of the coffin, I yelled loudly

"Hannah! You get off that coffin, right now!"

As if I need any more reasons for the neighbors to think that we are crazy...

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Something is not right

I think that something has gone terribly wrong with our garbage can. It actually smells like something crawled in it and died.

Corey is usually the one that takes care of the garbage duties. When we first got garbage service we ordered a small can thinking that we were superior for producing less waste. But, holy crapazoid, our family can produce the garbage. However, since we refused to admit defeat we still felt like we could manage to cram it all into one small can.

So, every Tuesday, Corey climbs onto the large pile of Mt. Garbage and jumps up and down until it all fits. That, in itself, is a fun event to behold. Corey, work boots on and all, hanging onto the pull-up bar mounted on the garage wall for support, all the while jumping up and down like a Mexican jumping bean. Almost makes you want to pull up a chair and grab some popcorn.


This week the garbage duties became mine which I promptly unloaded on my son. I'm not sure if Michael had the same style and flair as Corey while stomping down the garb, I choose not to watch. I thought it might hurt his fragile ego if I laughed But, because I was out getting the mail anyway like the good little soldier that I am, I brought the can back to the garage after the dump truck came.

Unfortunately, I happened to be down wind of the can while wheeling it on it's merry little way. And, hol.e.crap, the stench was so bad that I looked around expecting to see a dead animal nearby.

It was then that I realized that the smell was coming from the can. I risked permanent nose damage peered over the side of the can and observed the most disgusting layer of trash, firmly compacted and wedged to the bottom of the can. No amount of swearing shaking by the little mechanical arm thingie on the dump truck is going to dislodge what I saw.

The smell was so intense that I couldn't even put the can into the garage. I had to demote it to a place outside.

So, now the question is, what in the bloody sam hill do I do? There is no possible way without being medicated first that I am tackling the can. My nose is already waving the white flag just thinking about it. I can't make one of my kids clean it out. although I thought about it

Would it be poor form to cancel my garbage service and have them collect their bin of death can? Then, I could resign up for service and they would deliver me a bright shiny new, non-smelly can!

So the question is: Is that sneaky....or desperate brilliant?

Monday, April 20, 2009

She is a Walker

She's just not a walking Walker, get it?

See the weird look she is giving me? Most people look at me like that. because I'm crazy

I find it annoying odd that some people put so much emphasis on milestones.

Holy fart on a log, what does it matter when a child rolls over, crawls, walks, talks, gets teeth, potty trains, can self-feed, etc, etc....???

It's not like my kids won't have cavities because they are "dentally advanced". They won't be less athletic because they walked late, they won't be in diapers their whole life just because I was lazy and didn't want to potty train early they potty trained after 3 years old. I fully believe that my one year old will not go to kindergarten not knowing how to use a spoon and I'm sure that she will know more words then Mama, Dada and shoes (ok, totally kidding on that last one...kinda). And a child that walks early is not "better" than one that walks late. When one of my boys walked at 10 months old we thought there was something wrong with him we never thought he was the "winner" of some strange child milestone competition.

In fact, our son that walked the latest, at 14 months old, was just voted "Most Athletic" of his 8th grade class. So, I'm not worried.

Yes, she is 13 months and yes she is STILL not walking. I haven't tried to teach her, she prefers to be carried around and we are enjoying this stage. When she wants to attempt it, we'll support her, in her own time.

So, until then, we will let her be a baby, a non-walking, baby.

Sunday, April 19, 2009


We had never considered adoption. Whenever we wanted to add to our family and even when we weren't planning on it we would just have another baby.

We knew people that had adopted. They would say, "We love our adopted child as much as our biological children." And I would smile and nod. But I was thinking...


I was skeptical. Sorry if that offends, I just didn't truly understand.

I knew how I felt about my children. That mother bear fierceness, the love so big that my heart felt like it was literally going to pop right out of my chest, the don't you mess with my kids kind of feelings.

So, to think that a person could have those feelings about a child that was biologically not related...well, I just wasn't convinced.

Then... fast forward to Levi.

Levi's birth family is huge, his biomom has 11 birth siblings. Corey comes from a large family too and their families, over the years, have had a lot of opportunities to form friendships and connections. So, when it became apparent, that no one in Levi's birth family would be able to raise him I was hit with the thought..."What about us?"

At first, I didn't think that Corey would go for it. Now, looking back on that, I don't even know why I felt that way. I tentatively posed the scenario for him one night...and he enthusiastically agreed. Now I won't go into all the details on the adoption at this time, I'll save that for another post.

After Levi came to live with us, we ALL fell in love. And it was immediate, there was no weird transition that is widely talked about, it just felt natural, like he was home.

People said some things that really pissed me off irritated me.

"Is he a drug baby?"

-I'm tearing up as I type these words, even now all this time later. I asked that he not ever be called that again, ever. He was MY baby, my beautiful, wonderful son. I did not want him defined by circumstances beyond his control.

"I can't believe that you have taken on such a burden"

-I remember gritting my teeth and forcing the smile to remain on my face. "He is NOT a burden, he is a little boy."

"What a sacrifice you have made"

-Sacrifice implies that we have given up something. We gave up NOTHING. We amazing little boy, connections to his birth family they may be regretting that now, and days, months and years full of little kisses, great hugs and warm brown eyes staring at us with love. Sacrifice? Not even close.

As I thought about my strong reactions to these questions and comments, I realized something. Levi had taught me a great lesson. Can I love an adopted child as much as I love my own? Can I love with the mama bear fierceness, feel the same pride and need to protect?

I can...and I do...

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Huggies would be proud


That's how many diapers I have changed. Corey has done his (much smaller, dismal really, can't compare, I totally won) share.

I told this to my mom. She said "Wow, that's really something to be proud of!"

I told her that I was surprised that I didn't have environmentalists picketing in front of my house or that when we went to the dump there wasn't an entire section with my name on it.

Can you get carpel tunnel from changing diapers? If so, I should have it. Maybe I can apply for workwoman's comp...

Thursday, April 16, 2009

The things people say...

We have a big family, I get that. It's not that I'm unaware, it's just my norm.

I usually don't have to take all the kids with me when I am running around. I make plans to shop late at night when Corey is available, when my older kids are home to help and I shop on-line as much as I can.

But, sometimes, we are all out and about, the entire fam damily. People don't even try to hide their amazement at our numbers. They stare, very obviously (and loudly) count the kids, we have been glared at, and the comments...oh, the comments...

Don't get me wrong, it's not like I've never wished for a rewind button for my mouth. There have been times when I would have given my right arm to just rewind myself and been able to push the mute button. And my kids, especially one in particular, regularly opens up his mouth and vomits out any thoughts that he is currently having. I am hoping that old age will take over and I will someday be able to forget some of the things that he has said.

But anywhoo, I digress...

I had a conversation with a cashier at the grocery store last week, when purchasing milk for the week.

Cashier-(upon seeing the milk) "Eight gallons of milk?! Hope that lasts you awhile!"

Me-"Should last about a week"

Cashier-"Wow! How many kids do you have?"


Cashier-"Nine kids? What did you do?"

Me-Ummm....(Thinking to myself, "What did we do? Is he seriously asking me that? What do I say, isn't that obvious? Do I have to explain the birds and the bees?)

Uncomfortable silence follows....I think he realized what he had asked me because he wouldn't make eye contact after that. Either he was embarrassed or he gave himself a mental image that made him want to pour bleach in his ears in an attempt to erase it from his brain.

Other things that are said to us-

"You have your hands full"

"Are they all yours?"
-I love it when I have at least one daycare kiddo with me when asked this. I reply "oh no (like ya right), only nine are mine." Not nice, but really funny! You should see the looks of relief and then confusion that run across their faces.

"You deserve a medal"
-Just a medal? More like a long vacation on a deserted (quiet) island, a life-long membership to the shoe of the week month club, or a strait jacket. Maybe all 3?

"Don't you know what causes that?"
-I have seriously been asked that so many times that I can't even muster up a weak laugh just to be polite.

"Glad it's you and not me"
-Corey hates this comment that we have received many times. It really burns his butt. He always answers "So am I." And he does it in a way that the other person knows that he is pissed.

"I feel sorry for you"
-This one ticks me off the most. I try not to let the smoke flow from my ears and attempt to look confused. I ask "Why? I'm not sorry, I adore my big family" Jerks.

We love our big family, we did this on purpose, we wanted ALL of these kids.

And we always will...

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Boy Scout Tip of the Day

When getting poison oak on your hands, be sure and wash them thoroughly before using the bathroom.

In interest of protecting his privacy, I won't be naming names...

Monday, April 13, 2009

Happy Birthday Elizabeth

Happy 9th Birthday Liz!

What a sweet, giggly girl and so helpful with her younger siblings!

What did she choose to eat for dinner? Hamburgers

Dessert? Ice cream Brownie Mountain

Presents? Hannah Montana Barbie
Funky tights

Nicknames? Liz
Lizzy B
Lizard Breath
Lizard Blizzard

Being sick sucks

I'm going on week 2 of the crud. This seems to be the cold that just keeps on giving. Luckily, not all of us have been on the receiving end of this nasty little bugger. But, when it gets ahold of you, it just doesn't seem to want to let go.

I made the mistake of saying, out loud, that I don't ever get sick. That was dumb. A few days later and bada bing...the cold set in.

Why, why, why is it not going away??? Is it because I am too busy to really take care of myself? Bummer, not like that is going to change anytime soon. But my energy level is so low with me feeling like crap and I need my energy more than ever right now.

Corey has been very blessed to receive consistent opportunities right now to make the big bucks. With the real estate market in the crapper, something had to replace his realtor income. This current gig that he has got going practically fell right into his lap. But, it means that he is gone a lot. Which, normally wouldn't be a problem, I can handle things just fine by my high strung self. Normally, I said, meaning no sinus burning, sleeping fine, high energy, norm.

I also do childcare. I do the childcare because I like having my own money. Corey and I have separate finances, always have. This just is what works for us. I don't have to be on the receiving end of the eye roll when buying shoes necessities. I also love children and taking care of them, teaching them and hearing them laugh. So to get paid to something that I enjoy? Total bonus.

The kids play sports. We let them. We encourage them. We pay for them to play. We watch their games or meets, every last one, home or away. Between my parents, Nana, Corey and I, we have never missed one of their events, ever.

Joseph is now swimming at a higher level. He just started swimming with the high schoolers, which means lots more practices that we have to get him to. Every morning before school at 5:30 am (yes, I said a.m., and yes, that sucks), and every day after school. Every Saturday that there is not a swim meet he has practice from 6-9 am. All these practices are a half-hour drive away from home. Right now he is doing track after school so we just have to make the morning practices and Saturdays. He wants to swim, and he wants to do track. He gets straight A's, so I am determined to let him.

Michael and Timothy are playing soccer for a school that is a half-hour drive from home. Luckily, this year, they are on the same team. But some of their games are out of town. Saturday, we drove 2 hours (each way) for a game.

This is only the schedule for the three oldest. Some people ask us why we do it, why do we allow them to be so active. I am very, very adamant that they not feel like they got the shaft for being part of a large family. It is important to support them in doing the things that they love. Because, let's face it, someday they will grow up and working will be what they have to focus on. So, for now, I want them to have some fun.

All these things are keeping me busy, 24/7. What else would I do with my time, anyway? But I just need to feel like me again to make it all work.

So, I know this is a super random post, must be the cold medicine talking?

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Swimming Sectionals

Two of Joseph's relay teams (200 free and 400 free) made it to sectionals, which was held the end of March. Corey took him up for the weekend and got to enjoy watching him swim in a huge, very competitive competition.

His relay team was up against teams from all over the Pacific Northwest, Hawaii, Alaska and Wyoming. They were seeded way down on the list but it was more the experience that they were going for. They swam well and finished up about where they were originally seeded.

Go Joseph!!!

Organizing the closets and doing the laundry

My side of the walk in closet. We haven't had our shoe organizers built yet so my 100+ pairs of shoes (I know, I hate mail, please) are in very large tubs, sorted according to season.
Corey's side of the closet, which is astonishingly, at the present time clean and organized. On shelves above the clothing we have tubs of bedding, sorted according to size and set for when all the out in-laws visit.

In one of the spare rooms is a walk-in closet. In here, each kid has their own "Memory Box" which contains mementos, baby clothes, yearbooks, etc...

Also in the walk-in closet are all the spare bigger boys shirts, sweatshirts, sweaters and suits, hung up according to shirt type and size.

The rest of the spare clothes and shoes are sorted by size and boy/girl. All tubs are labeled for easy identification.

Michael and Timothy's closet.

Joshua and Joseph's closet.

Matthew and Levi's closet. Their spare clothes/shoes for the upcoming season are in labeled tubs in their closet.

Hannah's shoes and flower hair clips.

Elizabeth's shoes, belts and purses are sorted into laundry baskets.

The back wall of Elizabeth's and Hannah's walk in closet.

Lillian's bow organizers.

Lillian's closet. Clothes and shoes in the upcoming sizes are kept in here in labeled tubs.

The laundry sorter in the laundry room. Each week a different child is assigned the laundry chore. That person gets the dirty laundry from the downstairs bathroom, brings it upstairs to the laundry room and sorts it. In each bedroom the kids have a small laundry basket for their dirty clothes. The occupants of each room take turns bringing the dirty laundry into the laundry room, sorting it and hanging up extra hangers. I used to have a full-sized hamper in each room but the kids would wait till it was full before unloading it. I would go from having no laundry to a small mountain of laundry overnight. Not fun.

My laundry room.

We have a third set of machines in the garage that I use for really dirty stuff (like camping or mud football clothes) but I only use those machines about once a week.

Each person has their own basket where I put their folded, clean clothes. When that basket becomes full, I will add "Put clothes away" to their daily chore list.

I get asked often about how I keep up with the laundry. I had one of my aunts here at the house and we were showing her around. She asked "Where are all the piles?" I laughed, thinking that she meant piles of bodies, but turns out she was wondering why I didn't have piles and piles of laundry.

I have a system that works. At least it works for us. I have extra large machines and I run them all the time. I have spent so much time with them that they are now considered members of the family. Combined they do over 25 loads a week.

That's my life...

Update on Lily


More specifically, the fear of losing a child. When you experience that kind of fear it manifests itself in every cell of your being, putting all systems on red alert.

I've felt this fear before, during Lily's delivery. I felt this fear again Thursday night.

Thursday night I was giving her a bath and she was sitting in the bathtub, playing with toys. Suddenly she let out a shriek and went limp. I scooped her up out of the tub but she was unresponsive. I sat down on the bathroom floor and cradled her in my arms. I kept saying her name but she wouldn't move. Her pupils were tiny and her eyes stared blankly off to the side. I puffed softly on her face and...nothing. She didn't flinch, her eyelids didn't even close. I put my hand on her chest and felt her heart racing. I rubbed her limp little legs and arms but still no response.

Michael, who was in the bathroom talking to me when this occurred, asked if he could do anything to help. My sweet 14 year old son, alarmed but armed with knowledge from his First Aid merit badge, wanted to help. I asked him to call his dad and find out where he was. Corey had been working about 2 hours away from us all week and was on his way home. Michael got him on the phone and we found out he was only five minutes from home. I told him to hurry.

I got off the phone and looked again at my baby. She was now pale and her lips were turning blue. I put my ear up to her face so I check and see if she was breathing. I couldn't tell. I was about to call 911 when I saw her eyes move. She still wasn't focusing on anything or anyone but she seemed to be coming around. By the time Corey got home, just a few minutes later, some color had returned to her face and she was starting to shake. She then appeared really tired and tried to go to sleep.

Corey immediately took her to Urgent Care. She was looked at briefly there and then they asked for her to be taken to the ER. By the time the ER doctor saw her she was acting like her old self again. He called me (waiting impatiently at home) and asked me a bunch of questions. He wanted to know if we had any history of seizures in our families, if I had left her alone in the bathtub, if she had been face down in the water...I assured him that I had never left her side. I was concerned if this "episode" had anything to do with her being deprived of oxygen during birth. He said that he did not feel this was related.

At this time, we are not running any tests on her. We do not know what it was for sure. We do not know what triggered it. We do not know if it will happen again. We have so many questions but no answers. We have been asked to have her examined by her regular doctor and for now we wait...and we pray that this does not happen again.

Friday she seemed tired and slept most of the day. After getting up, she seemed like her regular self, she played as usual, ate normal and her feisty personality was intact. I think she got sick of me hovering like a UFO because several times when I picked her up and tried to cuddle her, she tried to bite me.

Even for that, I am grateful.

Happy 1st Birthday Lily Pad

Our sweet baby girl is 1!
She loved her new toy, giggling while pushing it around.
This was birthday cake aftermath #2
Opening her present from us
Lily's birthday was on St. Patrick's day and because it fell in the middle of the week, we had a small celebration with just us. I threw together a cake with green frosting and let her go for it.

Later, that weekend we had my parents over for more cake and present unwrapping because we are trying to spoil her. I made chocolate cupcakes with the most delicious sour cream chocolate frosting and her her indulge again.

It was during this time that I couldn't help but reflect back to her birth and the circumstances that almost cost us our sweet Lily Pad.

I was 21 when I had the twins. Young, crazy and sure that nothing bad would ever happen to me or my babies. They were both stubborn breech and I ended up having a c/section. A planned c/section, while not the ideal situation, was do-able for me. However, the pain while coming out of the c/section was not. It was the type of pain where you are moaning swearing and vowing to never again have more kids. Obviously, I got over it, because a insane short two months later, I was pregnant again.

Luckily, I was able to deliver Timothy naturally. Called a VBAC (vaginal birth after c/section), I now had rules to follow. An anesthesiologist had to be at the hospital while I was laboring and my doctor was not allowed to leave the building while I was in active labor. We had two hospitals in the area and for awhile, both of them would allow me to deliver there.

Along came Joshua, Elizabeth, Matthew and Hannah, all by VBAC. After Hannah, my doctor retired and the hospital that I normally delivered at decided to close it's doors to VBAC's. When I became pregnant with Lily, I had to find a new doctor that would do VBAC's and register at the only other hospital in the area. Things progressed normally and all was looking good.

My doctor informed me that he would be out of the country the week surrounding my due date. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, a laboring mother could see the on-call doctor. My case was different and I was told that no other doctor would deliver me, they would insist that I be delivered by c/section, even though I had many successful VBAC's under my belt.

I was given a choice, either I could be induced early, while my doctor was still in town, or I could chance it and try to hold out till he returned. Being aware, that if I went in to labor while my doctor was gone, I would have a c/section with an unknown doctor. So after thinking it over for a second I decided to go with Plan A-early induction.

The day before my delivery came quickly and I was all prepared and ready to go. It was late the night before when I realized that I hadn't had my blessing. Normally my father-in-law would come over and assist my husband in giving me a blessing before I would go in and have a baby. But, my father-in-law had moved and I really didn't want to bother anyone so I told my husband that I would be fine and he didn't need to worry about it. He was very insistent that I get one, I remember him telling me "That is what the priesthood is for and you need to take advantage of it." So, he called his good friend, Johnny, and he came right over and I got my blessing.

The next day came, I went into the hospital and my labor was started. I was probably about half-way through, my family had arrived, and everything was going smoothly. The doctor came in to check my progress and while doing so he became very quiet. He then looked up at me and said "We have a situation." Later I noted that he didn't use the word problem, very smart professional to not use the word problem with a woman in labor. I just knew as soon as he said that that I was going to have to have a c/section.

I had sworn promised that if I ever had to have another c/section that I would be done having kids. Period. Since we felt like Lily would be our last baby anyway these turn of events just cemented my decision.

"The cord has come down into the birth canal and you are going to need to have a c/section."

I calmly answered "ok" and then looked to Corey. His face looked shocked. He asked the doctor if he was sure. The doctor said that he could feel the cord and he was positive. The doctor was calm, my husband was calm...I remained calm. I didn't understand at that time that a prolapsed cord is life threatening. I asked the doctor to make bloody sure that I would never again get pregnant "close up the shop" while he was in there.

Then...I had another contraction. I remember laying there, watching the number that corresponded to the baby's heartbeat (was in the 150's) start dropping. It just kept going down and down and down...till it was in the 30's. I knew it wasn't good. My doctor, who knew it wasn't good also, ran out into the hallway and I could hear him yelling. Suddenly, all these people came swarming into my room. My bed was whisked out of the room and down the hall.

I remember Corey desperately demanding to go and then being told no. I closed my eyes and started begging the Lord, in my mind, that he not take my daughter from me. The only word that I could get out was, PLEASE. I thought that word over and over again. PLEASE...PLEASE...PLEASE... Then, a voice came into my head. Not the normal voices that I hear The voice said "You had a blessing, everything will be fine." My eyes flew open and I thought to myself in astonishment that I had actually listened to my husband "That's right, I had a blessing!" Relief flooded my body and I was able to relax and listen to the doctors.

They wheeled my bed into a little room and transferred my whale like body me onto a different table. They must have put something into my iv because I started to feel sleepy. The anesthesiologist leaned down and spoke into my ear, "You are in good hands, don't worry." I remember the silence, I was not hooked up to the baby monitor so I couldn't hear her little heartbeat. The doctor asked if I was asleep yet and that is the last thing that I remember.

From the time they took me from my room till Lily was delivered only four minutes passed. She came out healthy and beautiful and scored 9's on the Apgar newborn tests.

Because she was delivered so fast I ended up with a huge, jaw dropping rather large incision. Sixteen staples this time vs. four with my c/section with the twins. Almost hip to hip. When the recovery nurse looked at it for the first time, she exclaimed "Wow! Someone was in a hurry!" Not a fun recovery but worth the end product.

Later the doctor told us that we only had several more minutes before she would have died. The anesthesiologist said that he rarely gets the kind of page that is a true emergency. But when he got the page that he needed to come he realized that it was truely an emergency and he ran the entire way. Lily was checked out seven times before we left the hospital, just to make sure that she wasn't suffering any ill effects from being deprived of oxygen all that time. She got a clean bill of health every time.

For several weeks, I would hold her, watching her sleep and I would cry. Cry, because I knew how close we had come to loosing her. How grateful I am for the doctors, who were in the right place at the right time, and that I had for once listened to my husband I got a blessing beforehand. It literally was the difference between life and death.

Now, a year later, all her red hair has fallen out and she is a blondie because I can't seem to do anything different, she has a fiery, fiesty personality and is just, quite frankly, the love of our lives.

Happy Birthday Lillian!!!