Personal History - Getting Schooled

How did you feel when the first of your children went to school for the first time?

When my oldest boy approached the age for school, it was with a lot of anxiety for me.

How could I put my own kids through a system I had not enjoyed personally, and had little to no faith in for their improvement?

So I considered homeschooling, despite the financial odds I faced, and the additional problem that the state I lived in would fight me from beginning to end on my desire to school my own children. (We lived in Maryland at the time, a state very antagonistic to homeschooling.)

In the end, practicality won out, and we enrolled my oldest son in kindergarten. When we took him, our oldest girl was incredibly jealous, and she wanted to go with him.

The problems began right away.

He was 'too quiet'. He didn't get along with the other kids. This child reflected a lot of my own school experiences back to me in a frightening way, since these were also problems I had, that I had never found adequate solutions for. Again, practicality prevailed, as much as I wanted it otherwise, and he continued into the first grade.

The problems got worse in first grade for him - first of all, the World Trade Center got blown up, only a few days into his first grade year. How does a kid overcome something like that?

In our case, you move. To Texas, where homeschooling is simultaneously loved and ignored by the school system. I immediately ripped him out and started schooling him myself as soon as we were settled.

Homeschooling

I was so excited - living my dream!

What I failed to realize was that the dream brought its own problems of a different nature, which I hadn't reckoned for.


Now I had to keep track of his schooling...AND create and gather the curriculum...AND then teach each child, who all learned things differently.

We were also still struggling to make ends meet financially, and struggling with a public library system that was woeful compared to other state I'd lived in. On top of that, a health crisis developed for me that I had to figure out.

I fought it through for awhile, and got David homeschooled through the fourth grade. I even discovered how to teach him through his interests, in a way similar to unschooling, without actually unschooling him (not a fan of unschooling, where the child just learns whatever he feels like learning with little to no parental guidance or oversight.)

And then my oldest girl started school...and something seemed very wrong.

She wasn't learning. We went two years, trying to teach her even the basic basics of reading and the alphabet. Nothing stuck.

When my youngest girl officially started kindergarten and started reading before her big sister, and her big sister started taking away her books and not allowing her to read...something had to change.

Public Schooling

I enrolled all my kids in the local elementary school, that was a five-minute walk away from our house. Oldest boy started fifth grade, oldest girl started second grade (she was the age for it), and youngest girl started kindergarten.

And then problems exploded left and right.

Some things were little explosions...oldest boy didn't quite get the concept of 'homework' since he hadn't had any for several years. Had to relearn to turn things in when he finished them. Youngest girl didn't like her teacher, and didn't like leaving home every day.

But poor oldest girl endured the worst - she couldn't read, and couldn't even pretend to read. The class laughed at her answers. She buried her head in her arms and cried in front of everybody.

I knew this would happen - in some ways, it felt cruel to expose her to that.

But I also knew what the result would be - it was too dramatic for anything else to happen.

Her second-grade teacher complained to the principal, who immediately pulled in the school counselor, who immediately ordered testing - which immediately announced what I'd already suspected.

Dyslexia.

When I was growing up, I saw what happened to my brothers, some of whom also had dyslexia (it runs genetically in our family - my dad had it too). They were passed from grade to grade, even thought they'd never gotten good grades, or even deserved to pass. Then they entered the adult world of work, and struggled to read forevermore.

I'd investigated this school system. They had a dyslexia program - but getting into it was tricky. You had to manifest a problem, and who can tell if a kindergartner has dyslexia or if they're just difficult? The teachers and administrators would battle over it for years, and by the time she'd graduated and still couldn't read...what then?

I was not having that for my girl.

She got moved back a grade, and started the dyslexia class and rocked it. Finished it early, and could read. It was a painful step, but judging from having been in that system, it was what had to be done to get her help quickly.

The Best of Both

Public middle school was a special kind of hell on earth...both for me and for my kids.

My oldest son managed to put his head down and get through it, quietly and without event. Oldest girl went one year, and wanted out. She'd finished the school's dyslexia program, and didn't want to deal with the environment of the school anymore.

I found an option available here called online public school, where the kids went to school online, and the school provided the curriculum, the teaching, and the transcripts. All for state money - we didn't pay a dime.

I had to be the children's 'teacher', but it was no different than the work I was already doing - coordinating their education from beginning to end. That was my job, and it was a beautiful solution.

At least, for a couple of years.

Both my younger children got on - my youngest girl after she'd been hospitalized for depression and anxiety after having battled with a teacher who bullied her in middle school, and then my youngest son, who was smart enough to look at his siblings' experiences and say, 'Heck with that!'

But oldest girl needed something more - she couldn't take the quiet and isolation after a couple of years. So we went in a different direction.

Collegiate High School

My oldest son was graduating from community college with his associates' degree. My oldest girl decided, at the ceremony, that she should go to early college high school. It was a new program there, also tuition-free, for public school students who wanted to earn a high school diploma and a college degree at the same time.

"Why not?" I thought. This kid can do anything.

And then the world exploded again....

In order to fit all the credits in she would need to earn in order to get her college degree, she had to take the equivalent of 18 credits of class - an extraordinary schedule. Her older brother tried it and found it too challenging - took his GED instead and then took a regular schedule of classes. I thought he couldn't handle it because of his issues with socialization.

The program itself was just plain hard. Oldest girl decided to leave after the first semester, because she was failing the program. Dragged me over to the school to withdraw her from classes. We ended up at the principal's office, where he and some other school administrators sat down with us and told us we were making a mistake. An extraordinary statement, I thought.

They told me she was getting As and Bs, which floored me. She'd been telling me she was failing school. They didn't want her to leave, because they needed the good students to stay.

Oldest girl was unmoved. She told them her reasons - the program wasn't for her, she said. She'd been led to believe she would have more choice in her classes, and she hadn't gotten that. She wanted to take her GED and just go to college, instead of studying 20 hours a day in subjects she didn't care about to get a degree she didn't want. She just wanted to learn photography and work as a photographer and director, and she didn't care about anything else.

And then....a miracle....

The principal abruptly stood up, and went to a closet in his office. He pulled out a camera and some camera equipment, and put them on the table in front of her.

"I bought this so some student could help me take pictures around school - I need someone to run with this - but will you stay if I let you use this equipment?"

She couldn't speak. It was exactly the kind of camera she'd hoped to buy for herself. A tear rolled down one cheek. He bought her lunch and walked her back to class.

And she stayed. And she graduated.

College

My oldest son has one year of college left. Oldest and youngest girl are enrolling in university and community college this year. Youngest boy is passing the GED practice tests, but still too young (according to Texas) to take the test.

We'll see what happens from this time forward. Probably more explosions. But I'm used to them by now....the lights are kinda pretty, when you turn your head a certain way...

Personal History - Parenthood, Revisited

Did you spoil any of your children?

No, I would never...!

Yes, I'm afraid I did. Pretty much all the time.

I would have made a terrible single parent if that had been my path in life. I'm not good at that 'being the mother and the father' thing, and I know it. Although I never wanted to have a career - I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, and financially we couldn't do it - I think in our case it turned out better, because it made my kids grow to be more responsible and independent than they would have otherwise.

My hubby has always been a very nice counterbalance for me in that respect.

Were you strict or lenient as a parent?

I was the good cop, and hubby the bad cop. Only very rarely did it go the other way, but once in awhile it did. I was too lenient, and hubby was too strict, and somehow we ended up safely in the middle of discipline because of it.

Did you find you had to treat each of your children differently? If so, why?

My mother told me once that she thought, when children were born, that they were blank slates you could write anything you wanted on.

I never subscribed to that, probably because of my five brothers and my sister. Not one of us was the same as the other. So I never expected my kids to be the same as each other, and I was absolutely not disappointed.

 My oldest boy is quiet and a reader and writer, like his mom. He also has very high-functioning autism tendencies, like his mom. So he was the easiest for me to relate to and work with.

Oldest daughter was a tornado in human form, so I struggled with her for awhile. Eventually I learned more about energy profiling, while helped me tremendously in understanding where she was coming from, and in learning to live with her personality and energy, which was way higher than mine.

Youngest girl, same thing...but in the opposite direction. She was more low-energy, and stubborn. Once she made up her mind about something, there was no changing it, and as long as she wasn't intent on self-destruction, I let her make her own decisions. Her creativity was amazing, as well, even though her sensibilities are different than mine.

Youngest boy is like a combination of them all - high-energy, creative, and a deep thinker who's very generous in sharing his ideas.

How am I supposed to parent all this out of the same book of rules and regulations?

To a certain extent, I did, but then I needed to make allowances for each temperament, and different circumstances that arose as time went on.

Don't ask me how I did it. I can't tell you, other than I prayed, and then I did the best I could. And it sort of, somehow worked.

Personal History - In the Trenches of Parenthood, Good and Bad

What did you find most difficult about raising children?

Raising children split my brain. I'd spent so long in solitary contemplation, even when married, that now I needed to reserve some of my mental powers to deal with this new little person.

I had to figure out a new language...the language of babies. It took some doing, and I didn't always get it right, but eventually I figured out what each different cry meant, and how to answer it. I still hear that when I go to the store, and listen to other women's babies...I know what each kind of cry means, but it's not my job to answer that cry.

I also got frustrated with my own physical limitations; little kids run circles around most grownups, even when those grownups are relatively young. My best workouts were when I was chasing them or playing with them, but those workouts wear an adult out very quickly.


The most difficult point for me, strangely enough, was the point where I officially ran out of arms. When I had three children, and only two arms. It was then that my mental capacity was really stretched to the maximum, trying to make sure they were safe and cared for, while simultaneously trying to do my work that I was being paid for.

Looking back in retrospect, I should have probably hired someone part-time to help me, but I didn't. We really couldn't afford to do that, even with both of us working. I consider myself incredibly fortunate that I didn't have to put my kids into full-time daycare, which I was adamantly against. Not that it's terrible for everyone, but it would have been terrible for me and my family.

Once I had four children though, somehow the mental strain evened out, and then it didn't matter how many other children were around me. I was okay with it from that point on.

Personal and societal expectations also made parenthood probably more difficult than it should have been. I wanted to go into parenthood with a deliberate plan - feed them spinach in their brownies and smoothies and home school them, and throw big parties and go on play dates and expose them to all kinds of experiences that were out of reach financially for us.

I felt bad about that...but I did whatever I could, and hoped that it would work out somehow. And as my kids got older, I told them over and over...therapy is a wonderful thing. Get it. You'll probably need it on account of me, because I don't really know what I'm doing here.

What did you find most rewarding about being a parent? 

As cute as they were when they were little, what I really loved was watching them unfold into adults. I find that an incredible process - one that's largely out of my control.

I also loved all that I learned while being their mother, about myself and about them. Some of it was really dark and difficult, but those moments were just as valuable as anything else.

Parenthood was and is hard work, and a lot of faith and luck. Even with that, it could have gone a lot worse than it did for us, and for that I'm forever grateful.

I sure love these guys!

Personal History - Taking the Wayback Machine to Regret-Land

If you had to do it all over again, would you change the way you raised your family?

There are so many things I would do different, if I could go back in time and meet my past self...and if my past self would listen and understand and take advice from my future self, which is doubtful, knowing my past self as I do.

There are times I look back through my journals (I've kept journals off and on since age eight) and I cringe. It's not really a pleasant experience for me. It's at times like that that my regrets come running up to me, but more often than not, I push them back down.

I know I always did the best I knew how at the time. Still do. I've made a lot of progress since age eight.

My family is overall in a very good place, and I'm blessed to not have too many overwhelming regrets (thank the Lord!). Yet, there's still a few things I might have changed...

Television

I'd have deep-sixed that puppy - put it right out the window, along with the Internet once I realized how television-like it was becoming. But truth be told, that's hard to do, when you rely on that electronic babysitter as I did. My kids are able to read, and while I might wish that they liked reading more than they do, they do actually read from time to time.


College

I'd have finished my bachelor's degree when I was younger...the spectre of my unfinished degree really has haunted me and my family for many, many years. But try as I might, there never seemed to be a good time to do it. Other priorities always presented themselves as more important, over and over again. I did get my associate's degree, and do still plan to go after my bachelor's degree when the kids aren't relying on me for theirs, so we'll see in that department.

Better Prepared
 

I'd have worked harder to understand what learning disabilities and autism spectrum and mental illness really are and how better to deal with them. Every time I got hit with it - every child I have suffers with one or another of these - it threw me into a dark place of blame and shame for awhile, that I didn't really need to do, looking back.

One Major Project At a Time

My most major regret - one that I hope I can make up for in the next life if time travel is really possible - is missing the play I directed in high school.

When a senior in high school, I had the opportunity to direct a one-act for the school's one-act play festival. I'd never done any project management at this level in my life, and with all my heart, I wanted it to be good.

I found the funniest play I could find, and grabbed my actors that I wanted at the very first opportunity. Dennis for the lead, my friend Patty for the teacher, my best friend Andy for the voice of conscience, and then I filled in the rest of the minor parts with other students from drama class.

I spent so much time working on that play, I nearly flunked three other classes, but it was on my mind constantly. I made lists and lists of details. Those actors worked hard for me. They were so perfectly cast. The rehearsals were hilarious, and everyone took direction so well.

I only had one meltdown from Andy, and we worked through that, but then performance night came - but I wasn't going to be able to be there.

You see, I'd also (stupidly) auditioned for and won a chorus part in a local community production of "Hello, Dolly!" which was playing performances on the very same evenings as the one-act festival at school. I would be able to come AFTER the one-acts were over, but I couldn't be there for the performances.

No problem, I thought. Andy was my assistant director, and he knew what to do. I didn't need to be there.

What I didn't realize later was how much I would want to be there.

When I arrived after the first night, everyone surrounded me, excitement in their eyes. The audience loved it! They roared with laughter! Everything went off without a hitch. My play was head-and-shoulders above the others.

I won Best Director and Best Play that night. Oscar-style, I stood up, stunned, to receive my awards. Dennis won Best Actor. Patty won Best Supporting Actress.

And I missed the whole thing.

Sure, I saw it in rehearsal...but I missed the audience. That live moment of a crowd, roaring in laughter, at something I'd done. Instead, I chose the chorus of Hello Dolly, and I really shouldn't have done that. I should have quit Hello Dolly that night, but I'd already committed to do it, so I was stuck.

So I'm hoping, someday, that that moment is in some great heavenly archive that I can pull up and experience again in its fullness. Not to change anything, but just to see it. To be there when it happened. That would be a great, great gift. :-)

Personal History - Mother's Day Tributes

What was the funniest thing you can remember that one of your children said or did?

My children say and do funny things all the time, but one of my favorites are the videos my oldest girl (and usually youngest girl, and maybe some others) made for Mother's Day.

Her Mother's Day videos are epic, and they crack me up every time I watch them.

This one was more sentimental than funny, but a little funny:

There was another one I can't find at the moment, of oldest girl singing 'Wind Beneath My Wings' while youngest girl pelted her with laundry from off-camera, with hilarious consequences.

Trust me...you have to see it one day.

Her latest one I must have seen twenty times now, and it still makes me laugh:

 What can I say? These are my kids. :-D

Personal History - I Don't Give Advice...Unless I Do...

What advice would you give/did you give to your child or grandchild on his/her wedding day?

Honestly, I try not to give advice.

Unsolicited advice.

The advice I give comes from the wisdom of a long-lived life, lived from a place of the most integrity I could manage, and I would love it if people would take my advice and value it for the gem I'm handing them.

More often than not, my advice is dropped on the ground like a bedraggled piece of toilet paper, that gets dragged around by someone's shoe without their ever knowing about it.

I hate that.

So I try not to give advice...even when someone says something where my advice would perfectly help them.

It often won't.

Advice without motivation to act on the advice is inert and useless.

So I would leave the advice-giving to my hubby. He loves to give advice, and he would dump everything he knows on the said child or grandchild (bless their hearts, they do try to listen, but it's just sooooooo much....)

And then they would come running to me for relief, and I would hug them and tell them I love them, and what do they need from me?

That's all.

And that's another reason I'm writing all this, you know. So that, when the time comes that need and motivation coincide, my future descendants can look up everything I learned and benefit from it at the right time and place.

Questions are much more useful and helpful, I find.

If I ask a question, the person opens up like a faucet and does all the hard work of thinking things through all by themselves.

Then I listen and nod, and look for another question.

Introverts use questions like well-placed sticks of dynamite. A question placed in just the right place can open up whole areas of exploration and discovery, for both parties.

Giving advice just filled holes that are already full with other ideas and conceptions, and the advice runs over the top and down the drain, wasted.

Someone getting married is full and overflowing with stuff, and I wouldn't do that to them at that point. Really, it's too late then, and the wrong time.

So I give hugs, and I offer to help. And I shut my mouth.

Unless they want advice, of course.

If a solicitous child or grandchild wanted my advice on their wedding day, this is what I would say -

*Marriage is the hardest thing you will ever attempt. If you manage to do it well, it will provide you with incredible satisfaction 20 years from now. If things don't go well, you will gain all sorts of wisdom, and the opportunity to remake yourself over as a better person. There's really no way to lose out.

*Trying to finish a fight before you go to bed is misguided advice. Get a snack. Get some sleep. Most fights may dissolve all by itself if you just do those two things.

*Marriage has rules - and the rules were set by God. If both parties play by the rules, everything goes like it should and everyone has fun. If someone cheats and isn't sorry about it, the other party would be well within their rights to pick up their ball and go home.

*Ask God for advice. I'll give you my perspective if you want it, but His is always better than mine.

*Your spouse is incapable of 'making you happy'. Make yourself healthy, abundant, and happy. It's not selfish...it lifts a great burden off other people, and teaches them how to do it themselves. Parent yourselves now. That's what responsible adults do.

*You are now a 'we', and no longer an 'I'. Everything you do impacts others in a very profound way for generations to come. No pressure.

*Date. Every week. For the rest of your lives. Four hours a week is ideal, but make it as long as you can spare. Make those love deposits every week, and your love for each other will grow and flourish. If you don't, you'll eventually become roommates instead of lovers.

*You are more evil than you know. Work daily to be as nice as you can to the people closest to you. They're supposed to keep forgiving you even when you do bad things, but they're more evil than they (or you) know as well. Don't trust them to forgive you well, or forever, but keep forgiving them. Sounds hard? Remember advice snippet #1.

*Your children will be more than just your children. They're also my grandchildren. I love them with a mama-bear love already, and they're not even born yet. Take good care of my grandchildren, or I will surely hear about it.

*Therapy is a wonderful thing. Get it, if you need it. Get it if you're not sure you need it. But don't make your therapist guess what the problem is...no therapist is that smart. Go to therapy for a specific problem, and then finish therapy when the problem is handled. And then go back for the next problem when it arises. Trusted parents and friends or coaches can help identify the problems. Just ask them. They're not telling you, because you're not asking...

*Nobody knows anything, ever. Not even me. Not even you (especially not you). No one, except God. Keep Him close at all times, and you'll do fine. If you won't, I will...and then you'll get lots of unsolicited advice from me, which you don't really want, now do you?

:-)

Personal History - ...And To Think, I Gave Birth To These People...

Do you remember anything your children did that really amazed you?


I can think of a few things...most of my children are grown now, but I've gotten used to giving them online nicknames for safety's sake. I'll continue to do so here. Those of you reading who know us will know whom I'm referring to...

Oldest Boy

Our oldest son was, to put it mildly, intense, as a young child. Had a scream like an opera singer, which meant a lot of Sundays I was taking him out of the main meeting so other people could hear what was going on.

He and I bonded very, very closely, to the point where he cried if anyone else but me held him...again, quite tiring.

But he was always a great listener, and I could tell him anything. Mostly because he couldn't understand a word I said, but you knew he absorbed all the sounds and all the nuances of voice.

He watched a lot of television, unfortunately, but he remembered everything. To this day, he can quote back all the words to 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' like he wrote it. He has a memory that doesn't quit.

We read a lot together too, and he learned quickly. He read his grandpa a whole basic Dr. Seuss book (The Foot Book) when he was only 1 1/2 years old, and my father looked at me with wide 'this-kid-is-a-genius!' eyes. So funny!

 Oldest Girl

My second child matched the first child's intensity and took it to an 11. People today always talk about 'strong women', and my oldest girl epitomizes that in every way.

When she was three years old, I watched her playing with her older brother. He was on a trike, and she decided it was her turn to ride. So she proceeded to rip him physically off the trike, announce that it was her turn in her trumpet of a voice, and start riding while he ran back to me, crying that, "Mom! Aubrey hit me!"

I tried to homeschool her, but something seemed very wrong. I would teach her letters with great diligence, and she would retain it for about a day, but the next morning she couldn't remember anything I taught her - very different from the progress her older brother made. A couple of helpful people at our church approached me and suggested that she should be tested, which terrified me.

Eventually, I put her back into public school with her brother, just to see what would happen. Immediately the school informed me that she tested positive for dyslexia, and they put her into their pilot program for teaching dyslexic students to read.

My daughter, with absolutely no help from her clueless mom, learned to read within the next four years, about two years faster than the other students normally did. Now, while she still feels the effects of the dyslexia, she can read just as well as anyone.

Youngest Girl

My youngest girl came to us with some invisible baggage. She developed a deep depression and anxiety problem, starting around age 5. For years, she hid it from us. Her early teenage years seemed very dark, but I convinced myself it was just a teenage phase. My hubby felt differently, having experienced other family members who were clinically depressed in the home he grew up in.

At age 12, we took her to a psychologist, and thank God, she trusted him with her suicide note and some of her very disturbing drawings that pointed out the problem in an undeniable way. His first words to me after their session were, "She needs to go to the mental hospital. Today."

So we got her some help, which fortunately helped her in the short-term, but got us stuck on a four-year, unhelpful treadmill of a psychiatrist who couldn't have care less if my baby ever got better.

My youngest girl fought back. She changed her diet, removing all forms of sugar for a very long time. She learned how to cook Paleo foods, and became an amazing cook. She exhibited a will of iron against her depression, her anxiety, and even the hallucinations the medication she took induced in her.

I feel somewhat guilty now, for all the times my poor sugar-addicted self tried to tempt her away from what she was doing, but she would take counsel from no one but herself, and I learned to better support her over time.

Today, she takes only vitamins to manage her depression. Our family doctor determined that she has a genetic predisposition to not making sufficient serotonin in her body on her own, so the supplements she takes help her do that, without the hallucinations or other side effects. She has grown into a wise and talented and funny young woman, and I hope to enjoy the pleasure of her company for many years to come.

Youngest Boy

My youngest boy has a brain I cannot fathom.When I married my husband, I thought he was a pretty deep and original thinker, but this kid delves into areas I never considered, and I have a really hard time keeping up with his musings.

He's not a writer (yet), but he comes up with some very unique ideas that I could run with. Some of my very best short stories were born from his fertile imagination.

He's also very kind and compassionate towards others, like his dad, and super helpful and handy around the house.

I remember one day when we were struggling with some mechanical issue in the house - can't remember specifically what it was now. I just remember my youngest boy coming up to me, smiling. "I fixed it, Mom!" Such a feeling of relief, and awe, just washed over me, and all those years of trying to keep him from playing with the toilet as a child finally made sense.

When I can't remember how to turn on the TV, he's there. When the Internet goes down, he's there. When I don't feel like taking out the trash in the rain, he's there.

His math skills are tremendous, and his potential for the future is really great. I truly don't know how I'm going to afford to replace him when he leaves home. It's going to be an expensive prospect, for sure.

Personal History...And Then, Our Last One - The Youngest Boy that Almost Wasn't

What was the story around the birth of your fourth child?

When my youngest girl was born previously, it was a difficult delivery. It was the second time I risked death to give birth, where if I'd been born before modern medicine, that would have been the end of me.

After a baby is born, the uterus is supposed to return to its normal size and stop bleeding.

Well, my uterus decided not to do that - I hemorrhaged badly. For the first time in my life, the uterus needed some help, and I got a shot of pitocin.

That was one of the worst pains I'd ever felt in my life.

I'd learned to relax through contractions during normal birth, but there was no relaxing through that, and I needed pain medication to get through it as well. Felt so glad for all the things I'd learned about giving birth, and how to do it in an unmedicated manner.

Yet, when I got my beautiful curly raven-haired baby home, that feeling remained...the feeling that I still wasn't done.

And that was frustrating to me. Because I felt utterly, completely spent.

My boss, having seen my work, and having learned to trust me for quality work, allowed me to continue to work from home, despite the head accountant's protests (George was my nemesis). So I was working from home again, and on top of that, Sam was hired to be my in-office liaison, so he was working with me, and we were making a very comfortable living for the first time ever.

But my frustration remained. If you've never worked from home, while trying to balance three babies on your lap and all their needs, I don't recommend it. My brain was burning out.

And there was another child on the way on top of everything else. I knew it. Mentally, I fought it.

I spent a lot of time praying through this challenge - grateful to be working from home again, but dying from all the work involved. How were we supposed to take on more children after this?

I went back and forth, one day open to the idea, another day absolutely against it.

Then, one night, about a year after my youngest girl had been born, I had a dream. Only I wasn't asleep...it was more of a vision.

All I could see was an outline of two people. One of them I knew was Jesus. He stood next to the outline of a small child - a boy - who was standing and looking at me expectantly. I couldn't see faces.

The thought came to my mind - "Do you want this one?"

I realized in that moment that it wasn't about the problems to solve, but the people. This little boy, that wanted so badly to come to our family I could feel it, even though I couldn't see his face.

I said yes. I knew the problems would work themselves out, but I didn't want to disappoint this earnest child.

Almost immediately after that, I got pregnant, and our youngest boy was born. I never had a sonogram with any of my children to determine their sex before birth - only to see if the baby was healthy. I never asked for the sex beforehand, because I didn't really care whether it was a boy or girl. But with this one, there was never any question in my mind he was a boy.

He was my biggest baby, weighing in at over ten pounds - and also my easiest birth, since with him, we found a midwife group in Alexandria, VA that would agree to come to our home when it was time. Since I lived close to a hospital in case of emergency, and since my births were largely uneventful, they felt it was safe for me to try.

There was only one problem - my birth doula, Pam, would be out of town on his due date. She'd been to every single one of our births, and it was important to us that she be there. So we went over the due date, waiting for her vacation to finish up. As soon as she got back, down went the castor oil, and out came that baby, in the middle of our living room! The midwife weighed him on a fish scale, and then Grandma brought back our other little ones to meet their new baby brother.

As soon as he was born, that feeling that there were more children coming to our family went away, and it's never been back since. We were complete as a family unit at last. And right on time too - my body was flirting with gestational diabetes at this point, and I wanted to stay healthy to raise the babies I already had.

Many years later, I came across a painting of the exact scene I saw in my vision, only I could see the faces - Jesus standing with his hand over a little boy, who was looking expectantly out. I don't know if I might have seen this image before somewhere, but I didn't remember ever seeing it before. I looked at that painting kind of flabbergasted for a long time.

Why did you give him his name?

We named him Hyrum, after the brother of the first prophet of our church, Hyrum Smith.

His middle name is 'O'Brien', taken from his father's grandmother's Irish side of the family.

Personal History - And then, Another One! The Fascinating Outward and Inward Journey of Youngest Girl

What was the story around your next birth?

As each child came to our family, there was a continuous sense that more children were coming, and it frustrated me a little.

My hubby and I worked very hard to maintain our new little family - harder and smarter than we'd ever had to work before, and it was hard to enjoy that time because everything seemed so precarious.

The supervisor I had before, who had set me up to work from home and trusted me implicitly, retired, and the new supervisor Michael Johnson, who didn't know me, asked me to come in and work in the office again for a time so he could get to know me better. After that, he would be more open to the idea of me working from home again.

So the thing I dreaded - working away from home with small children at home - came to pass at last. I was emotionally devastated. Truth be told, I grew up telling everyone that I wanted a career, but I never did. I only ever said that to provoke my father, because I knew it would make him angry, and making him angry was the only revenge I could ever take on him for all he did that made me angry.

But I really wanted to be a mom. I really wanted to stay home and raise my children. I was one of those women for whom the feminist movement sort of helped me, but sort of didn't at the same time. I was grateful to have the option to work, and I really never wanted it.

That feeling was never so strong as it was when my kids were little.

Fortunately, Sam had the option to stay home with them so they never had to go to daycare, but it killed me to leave them every morning. They would cry as I left, so I would sneak out of  the house before they woke up, so I wouldn't have to hear it.

My only thought at work, the whole time I was there, pregnant now with our third child, was 'How do I get back home?'

It got very dark for me for a time. Occasionally I would look up family websites of people who had lost family members to suicide, and listen to their hurt and pain, and that helped me not do anything drastic with myself.

I listened to lots of scriptures and Conference talks from our church, wondering what was wrong with me, why I couldn't think of any way to stay home that would work, and why on Earth the Lord had allowed this to happen - why was He sending all these kids to our family when I couldn't even stay home and be their mom? Lots of really torturous thoughts.


Eventually, the time came for labor and delivery. I was so grateful that Sam figured out a way for me to get insured (only me - another scary thing), and we could once again go to the Maternity Center and have regular midwives again - a great blessing.

As the time drew nearer, nothing happened. We went a week overdue.

We determined that it was castor oil time, so I dosed myself, gagged, and waited for something to happen. Nothing.

Okay...it doesn't always work the first time, let's try it again. Another dose, lots of gagging. My gosh, this stuff is awful, but it'll be worth it...

Absolutely nothing.

I couldn't bear the thought of doing it a third time, so that night, I lay in bed and decided to talk to the baby. Utterly desperate at this point, almost two weeks overdue. All I could think to do was go into my mind and talk to this kid, who'd set up a satellite dish and a hot tub in my womb, and wasn't about to leave.

I introduced myself, and said, "So what's the holdup, kid? We're all waiting for you to come out here."

I felt a strong feeling of fear, that didn't seem to come from me.

The baby was afraid. Thought that we wouldn't like him or her when the time came to be born.

I told the baby (in my mind) that we really wanted to see it, and that it was time, and that we all felt nothing but love about getting to have you in our home. I said it, but my own depression at that time was so strong, I didn't know if the baby would feel that or not. So I talked about how God was there, and how much He loved the baby, which I felt more confident in saying. The feeling changed to something more peaceful and less fearful.

Next day, labor was going full force. We made it to the Maternity Center, met Pam there again (who was now our good luck charm at these births), and the baby was born.


What was her name, and why did you give her that name?

She was a girl, and we had a name for her at the time. We were going to call her Cecelia Petra. However, when the time came to fill out the name form after the baby was born, we couldn't decide how to spell Cecelia - with one 'l' or two? I's or E's?

It seemed like a name that was too much work, and it really didn't seem to fit her once she was out anyway, hairy and purple and squalling like her older brother. So we thought about it in that moment, and both of us decided that she looked more like an Ashley than a Cecelia.

So Ashley it was. Ashley, and Petra for her middle name, after her father's Mexican grandmother.