The Burrowing Cry

I keep sitting here, not sure how to start this, so I guess I'll just start.

In the wee hours of the morning (1:00ish?) on September 23rd, my mom, on a houseboat vacation with my two older siblings in Lake Powell, Utah, woke up to discomfort and a voice telling her, "This is a heart attack, you're having a heart attack."  She had already thrown up a couple times before she went to bed (thinking she was just sick but actually was experiencing angina) but, as she woke up more and started to try and rouse my dad and tell him what was going on, she began throwing up again. 

I wasn't there so I can only convey bits and pieces without much timeline accuracy, but I know that she continued throwing up many, many times throughout the night... 30 or so was a guess.  She had intense chest, arm and back pain and it was hard to breathe.

My dad was terrified and felt rather helpless.  You see, they were on this houseboat on a night with just a sliver moon that wouldn't even rise until about 5:30am., no spotlight and a VERY treacherous lake, twenty miles from the closest marina and medical help.  Lake Powell is full of unknowns under the water.  It can be a dangerous lake to navigate in the daylight, much less the darkest of nights with no light on the boat.  My mom relates now that my dad was trembling and he tried to hold her and offer her some sort of comfort.  I can only imagine the anguish that they were both experiencing.  My mom wrote up a summary of events as she remembered them.  I hope she doesn't mind if I put some of that here in my own record of things:

"I was pretty freaked out, panic was rampant for a while. [As time passed,]I got to a point that I saw a really cool mosaic of blues & blue-green looking spots that formed a spiral. It moved ever so gently & beckoned me... I thought with great clarity... "So this is what it's like to die from a heart attack" There was no panic at that point. It was a peaceful, resigned, calm place & feeling."

"I don't know how much time passed but I started feeling & then speaking out loud to Brayt "I CAN'T die on this boat" "I can't do that to these kids, my kids & grandkids."  I knew with certainty, at that point, that they would heap some kind of guilt on themselves about not doing something different... [so] I knew that I couldn't die on the houseboat. I asked Brayt to give me a [priesthood] blessing. He obliged & then later he felt like he should go consecrate some oil & do the full ordinance, so he did. Then when he said his blessing he stated: "I bless you that you will survive this night".  ...[and] something shifted after that. I was in agony for more than 8 hours and I survived the night. I didn't die on the houseboat."

My dad, in the retelling, says that he had so much fear as he tried to do something but felt so helpless.  He gave the first blessing without oil because he forgot to bring it, and later felt commanded by the Spirit do the full ordinance (as mom said).  As he gave her the second blessing, he told me that he felt the powers of heaven pour into my mom and felt the fear that gripped him relax.  He said it felt that it wasn't up to him now.  She was held by the Power of God.

Even still, the night was agony.  My mom said she kept looking at the sky, hoping to see some light, some signal of time passing.  She felt like it would never end.  But, as all hard things do, the night finally did come to an end.  Morning came and they got her on the power boat and to the ramp at Bullfrog Marina. 

Upon arrival, my dad ran up the ramp and found a Ranger sitting in his Jeep.  He asked him if there was a Clinic close by. 

"Why?" the Ranger asked.

"Because I think my wife is having a heart attack." replied my Dad. 

The Ranger asked where she was and my dad pointed to the power boat bobbing at the dock.  The Ranger, who happened to be a Medic, jumped in his Jeep, radioed for an ambulance, drove down the ramp, grabbed his bag and ran to where she was in the boat.  He, on the bobbing boat, started an I.V. of something, and then the ambulance was there and they were loading her onto the gurney.

She was taken to the small clinic at Bullfrog and was given some sort of pain meds and who-knows-what.  In short order, a life-flight helicopter crew arrived and, in Mom's words, "They were the BEST! Light, good energy, competent to the max & the let me joke with them & they seemed to get it! The pilot came in & asked "How do you feel about a helicopter ride?" Me: "That's probably the best part of this whole thing so far!" Pilot (laughing): "Now that's my kind of patient!" Whoosh..... off to the chopper..."

Mom was in a drug induced haze after that.  She remembered snippets of things... being unloaded from the chopper... flashes of the Cardiac Cath-Lab... the Cardiac ICU with no familiar faces around... and then seeing my dad (who had driven the five hours from Lake Powell to Provo, where she was taken).... and then my dad walking in the room again, followed by me.  My Dad had called me Friday afternoon at about 1:00 to tell me what was going on and that Mom was in a helicopter on her way to Provo.  I called Taylor and Lacy, my siblings, and then Dustin.  Dustin could tell I was rather shaken and suggested that I call my friend Rebby.  Rebby offered to watch my baby Brynja and pick up my kids from their bus stop.  I took her up on the offer and was on the road by about 2:30.

My mom was in the Cardiac ICU from Friday until Sunday afternoon.  Sunday they moved her to the regular Cardiac Floor (which was bustling and crowded... and her new room we not-so-lovingly called her "Harry Potter cupboard-under-the-stairs" because it was so small...)  I stayed in Provo the whole time and was at the hospital all day, every day until she was released on Tuesday evening. 

My dad and I took turns being the information liaison for everyone who was calling to inquire and send their prayers and love.  She had many visitors and love and prayers being said for her. 

Because she went so long without any medical intervention, she did suffer some damage to her heart, but it is improving and she is working to get her heart function back.  We learned after her surgery (where two stents were placed) that the problem was in her lateral anterior descending coronary artery.  This is the artery that is also dubbed "the widowmaker" because it has a VERY high mortality rate.  They tell us that it was 100% blocked by a blood clot that had developed on the stent they had placed there last year.  How my mom survived so long with such a thing and how she is currently doing as remarkably well as she is... TRULY a miracle.

As for my own experience and the title of this post... I had NO idea, in the midst of my own hospital "supportive role" experience, how taxing to my own psyche it was.  I thought my mom was doing fairly well on Saturday and Sunday, all things considered.  And she was.  She was not really eating, though, and battling nausea, chest pain (from Pericarditus, they think, but were never sure...) and drug-effects, among other things.  It was rough.  More rough than I realized at the time.  Monday rolled around and she showed such improvements from the weekend that I had a dawning understanding that she had been worse than I knew.  But she improved so much on Monday.  She started eating more, had less nausea and started walking more with her cardiac therapist.  Then Tuesday she was WAY better, even, than Monday.  It was an amazing transformation.  Her spirits were higher on Tuesday and we got word that she was most likely going to be released that day. 

As I, unconsciously for the most part, started to relax about my mom's condition Monday evening and into Tuesday, I began allowing myself to feel my exhaustion.  I felt like I had been a piece of cloth that was spray-starched into rigidity for support and suddenly someone poured water all over me, releasing the starch that was holding me up.  I was "puddley".  I had permission from the universe to be tired and, boy-oh-boy, was I tired.  I also felt like I was made of blown glass.  All my emotions were suddenly right at the surface, and I would shatter at a touch.  I worked at "keeping it together" to some degree for the rest of the day, but all I wanted to do was cry my eyes out in someone's arms.

My dear husband was at home with the kids these five days and trying to work and juggle schedules, etc.  He was anxious for me to come home, so on Tuesday night at about 8:30, I left Provo for my trek home.  It was late to be leaving, tired as I was, but I didn't want to stress D out any more than he was.  As I was driving, my tears, held together most of the day, were bursting to come out.  But to drive safely, I couldn't let them come.

I wanted desperately to stop at a friend's house who was on the way home, but the late hour and other circumstances didn't allow it. 

And so, I swallowed it. 

I know it was a mixed blessing to be able to do that.  I needed to not delay my drive any more since I would be home very late as it was, but I also felt like I really needed to cry.

But I didn't.

And the emotions burrowed.  They went subterranean and I can feel them there, like a splinter in my body. 

Did you ever watch a movie called The Holiday?  Cameron Diaz's character couldn't cry, try as she might.  I've felt like that ever since.  I do cry, just a little bit.  But then those tears just dry up as quickly as they came on. 

I did get some release yesterday.  My mom came over to my house to help me dip pretzels, of all things to do post-heart attack (bless her, but she saved me!).  In my gratitude for her help, I hugged her and said my thanks.  And I started to cry.  She hugged me for a long time.  She said sweet-mommy things to the child in me who needed comfort.  And I 'got it' in a way I hadn't yet.  A new level of settling in.  My mom so nearly lost her life.  She was spared by the power and grace of God and her own will that made the choice to stay.  She was here with me in my kitchen offering me comfort instead of me desperately seeking the slippery peace I would have been had she merged with the blue/green mosaic that was beckoning her on that turbulent night in Lake Powell.

My tears went underground, but my mother stayed, and I will wait patiently and in gratitude until those tears would like to come forth.

I love you more than words can express, Momma.

Friday's Fabulous Five

It's been a while since I've done a FFF post. Life is so fabulous, I better do ten.

1- My dad is pink-skinned and breathing on a daily basis. I pray I never take that for granted again.

2- My mom is a total rock. I've known it all along, but she kept things so calm the night that my dad was in peril. I've since realized how freaked out she really was that night, but she kept it together so well for her children. She's amazing. She wrote a note to many friends and family explaining what happened to my dad. Here's the tail end of that note and I want to preserve it in my someday-blog-book:

We are both extremely grateful for the gift of his health & "new lease on life". There's nothing quite like an extreme wake up call to sharpen the senses & bring perspective to things.

To those of you who knew about this already; thank you for your love, support, kind words & prayers. To all; including those who are just finding out in this message, it's been a wild ride, one that I don't wish on anyone. My children have noticed that they want to be sure to speak the words of love that they may not utter often enough. I feel the same way. It's so easy in our workaday lives to lose the focus of the importance of speaking words of love, support & caring. To add a touch, a pat on the back, a caress or a hug and to look someone in the eye & commune soul to soul and convey all the feeling in our heart, soul & mind that is the love we feel. It needs to happen every day. Whether big or small, everyday. (If we focus on the love & sharing it it's easier to avoid the other stuff too) That's what's been going on in my mind a lot the last 1 1/2 days.

Love to you all AND go hug your loved ones & tell them how you feel. Right Now!!

Like I said... my mom is a rock.

3- We haven't gotten much school done at home because we still don't have Mac's books, computer, etc, but having my two little sons home with me has been more of a joy than I would've ever imagined. Mac has been nicer, more helpful, more cooperative and just generally more light and easy than he has in... well, years. This alone is making this endeavor worthwhile. I hope it continues until he's in, at least, his twenties. ;-)

4- My brother, who lives in Salt Lake, came up the day following my dad's heart attack. (He and his wife Nicky) Nicky stayed until Wednesday and then went back to Salt Lake. Zandy stayed to be my dad's muscles for a few days. You see... my dad's heart is fantastic. He looks and feels great, but he can't lift anything over five pounds for about a week while his femoral artery incision heals from his surgery. My dad does construction for a living. Bless my brother for lifting 200 lb doors and swinging sledge hammers for a few days so my dad can still earn a living and keep his commitments to the job he's on. I love my family.

5- I love a freshly vaccumed floor.

6- You know the miracle of the loaves and the fishes? I've had a miracle of the caramel.

7- Marci's Napolean Dynamite dance on her blog. Awesome. (sorry, ya'll... she's got herself a private blog so I have to enjoy that one alone... or with a few people whom I know who read her blog.)

8- I don't feel sick from being pregnant anymore. Not that I ever felt super sick, but even feeling a little sick sucks, don't you think? But now it's all gone.

9- For these few days, I get to watch my brother enjoy my children. Rohan especially. Rohan has a way of worming himself into people's hearts. Zandy is loving it and I am loving it too.

10- Dustin.


Happy Friday!

From The Jar... #33

My little Jar says...




Did you and your mother share an interest in any special activity?





Why, yes, actually. We did.


I suppose that the Jar wanted to follow that question with something like, "What was it, and why was it special?" That's pure speculation on my part, but I'm going to go with it.

My mom and I shared a special interest in being together. I can't say that there was any one particular thing that we liked to do, but whatever we did, we loved that we were friends and could do it together. I loved spending time with my mom. Always. Even when I was a teenager we had an excellent relationship.

I remember so many times, she would come and tap me on the shoulder and quietly ask if I wanted to run to the store with her, go shopping or run an errand. I had to keep it "hush-hush" so my siblings wouldn't be alerted. I know she loved us all equally, but she loved to take me to the store the most. :o) I didn't beg for whatever candy we were walking past or whine for her to buy this or that for me. We were "pals" and we just had fun.

My mom had a little Yamaha scooter. (well, for a scooter, it was actually kind of big) We would cruise all around Salt Lake on that thing. Those are some of my favorite memories. She would retire it in the winter, but I remember one time, mid-November or December, when our van was broken and I had to have a ride to early-morning Seminary. So, at 6:00 am, Mom and I wrapped ourselves up in warm layers finished off with GORE-TEX windbreakers and we hopped on her scooter and rode a little more than a mile in below-freezing weather. We screamed/laughed the whole way. This particular road goes over a gully with a creek. The moisture in the air drops the temperature by 5 or 10 degrees and when we crossed that part of the road, our screams went up in both pitch and decibel. We were laughing hard by the time we got there and I went into Seminary remembering, not how my cheeks stung with cold, but how my heart filled with warmth and love for my mother!

As adults, our relationship is much the same, except I can't always sneak away since I have my own responsibilities as a mother. But we love spending time together. I feel so blessed to have such an amazing relationship with my mom!

More Rohan

*Rohan and Mom were eating breakfast. Mom was reading while she ate. Rohan blessedly interrupts Mom's read...*

R- Hey Mom! Did you know that animals have black spit?

M- Oh yeah?

R- Yeah....*pause*..... Some do....*pause again*.... Two of dem do.


*Very long pause*


M- So, which two animals have black spit?

R- Hmmmm.....I don't know.

*more pausing*

R- Mmmmm, bears have black spit. No. Bears have brown spit. That's cause they are brown. SHEEP have black spit! But they don't spit.

M- Really?


*Rohan continues eating his breakfast. Mom quickly writes down the conversation because some things little boys say are too funny/precious/adorable to trust to memory.*

Friday's Fabulous Five

Well, here we are. Friday again. Did this week go really fast, or was it just me?

1- I have a GYNORMOUS wound on the roof of my mouth... you know, a Captain Crunch wound? (well, mine's not actually from Captain Crunch, but it's that kind...) It had been there forever now- a week or something. Will it ever go away? I'm thinkin' yes, but I've never had one last quite this long. You may be wondering why that made the list. I'm wondering the same thing.

2- Someone I love is making me a scarf. Her first scarf EVER! I am so blessed.

3- My house is REALLY messy right now. REALLY messy, and there's someone coming over at 10:00 am. Say it again? OK. REALLY messy. But... he's coming to measure CARPET!!!! I'm so excited, messy or not.

4- I have a Captain Crunch wound, but am, otherwise, in perfect health!

5- My dad is the coolest. He's coming to my messy house to paint some more. I love him so much. My mom is the other coolest. She tags along for the fun of it and gives my children gum. It's extra funny because she taught Ella that your gum won't get all hard if you put it in the freezer. Ella taught her brothers. I find a lot of mummified gum in my freezer door that they forgot to chew some more. It might sound gross to you, but I think it's adorable. Little trails of precious, gum-saving children.

6- Bonus round. That gum story reminds me that maybe I should look at drips of jelly on the counter top or smears of toothpaste on the sink, or tracks of snow in the entry as precious little trails made by my favorite little people. I would cry for those messes if they were suddenly taken away. I'm grateful for cleaning up after my children, and teaching them to clean up after themselves.

Phone, Sweet Phone

My mom smells good. I'm not sure what the magic combination is... perfume, makeup, bath soap, farm house and acreage with a stiff breeze blowing through it? I haven't figured it out, but she carries around on her person one of my three favorite smells on this green earth. On Tuesday, I had an errand to run and she popped over to watch my kids for just a half an hour. I returned and she left. End of story. Or so I thought.

The next morning I was sitting at my computer and I picked up the phone to call someone. As I brought the phone to my face, my senses were assailed with that sweet scent that is my mother. I was not immediately and consciously aware of her scent that first time I picked up the phone. As the day wore on and I made or answered more phone calls I would inhale deeply and think of my mom. I realized that the phone smelled like her. I thought this was strange. She was only here for a few minutes. Why would she come to my dungeon, uhhh basement and talk on my dumb, non-cordless phone?

I asked her later on if she was on the phone in the basement while she was here. Indeed she was. She came down to check something online and the phone rang. She was on it for all of one minute.

"Why do you ask", she said. I told her that my phone smells like her. She laughed out loud.

It's been two days now and her lovely scent still lingers when I say 'hello'. It makes me smile, and I feel privileged to be the daughter of such an amazing woman who wears a scent as sweet as she.

From The Jar... #22 (revisited)

I wrote a witty and colorful account the other night of this jar topic, but, as you all recall, that got flushed down the cyber toilet, never to be seen again. It's probably floating in the lost-post cyber-sewer-treatment-plant right now... next to your lost blog entry. So, I will make an attempt to recapture what I wrote previously. You can be sure I'll be watching that autosave every few minutes.

So LAST week the Jar said:

Tell a courtship story about your parents. How they met, how they got engaged, etc.

My parents have a tidy little package for all three. Meeting, courtship and engagement.

My dad was 20. My mom was 19. Mom was attending Ricks College in Idaho and Dad lived in Salt Lake. My mom went down to SLC to visit her friend, Sydney, for the weekend and on Sunday they went to church together. My mom saw my dad for the first time while he was passing the sacrament. He had hair down to the middle of his back, and my mom thought that long hair was hot stuff! (who are we kidding, she still thinks that to this day!) She nudged her friend and asked, "Who's the long-hair?" (I could be making stuff up... Mom, if you read this, feel free to fill in holes or tell me I'm up in the night if I'm wrong.)

She was intrigued at first glance. Later on that evening, Sydney had a bunch of people, my father included, over to her house to play games, etc. Mom and Dad met and talked all evening. Then it was time for everyone to leave, so my mom walked my dad halfway home (just down the street). They stood on the corner shivering (it was wintery cold outside) and talking for another two hours! Those crazy kids...

As my dad came home that night, he talked to his own father for a bit. In the course of their conversation my dad said, "Dad, I've met the girl I'm going to marry. What should I do?"

My grandpa replied, "GET TO KNOW HER!" (Nice try, Gramps!)

My mom was supposed to go home on Sunday, but Sydney told her she'd drive her back to Idaho on Tuesday so she could see a guy she had been dating at the airport as he left on his mission. I can't remember if he flew out on Monday or Tuesday, but I know my dad and mom saw each other on one or both of those days.

On Tuesday, Mom went back with her crazy friends (who like roasted peanuts- ha!) to Idaho amidst a terrible snowstorm. On Wednesday, my dad called and said that he was coming to Idaho on Saturday to ski and could he see her? (was the skiing part right? I can't remember for sure.) So, he came up Saturday and they did see eachother. I don't know what their evening consisted of, except that it ended with them talking in my dad's car in Island Park, wherein my dad asked my mom to marry him. She shocked herself by saying, "Yes. It's too soon, but I say yes." It was a very powerful spiritual moment for them both.

So, in six days, they went from being strangers to being affianced. (Six days, you say? Yes, you're right. That would be the same amount of time it took me to freakin' decide to marry my sweetheart!) And, they are still married thirty-five years later. Quite happily, in fact.




A shout out to my parents for the awesome example they are to me of unconditional love and acceptance, for the incredible and undying support that they give to me, my husband, and my little family, and for the path they forge of growth and change and learning. I love you, Mom and Dad. You gave me life and by doing so you gave me gifts [solicited or "un"! ;)] that are my joy and/or my greatest lessons that keep me moving forward in my own growth. Thank you. Love you.

From The Jar... #18

What is a favorite family place to go with your husband/wife/kids?

My little family loves to go over to my Mom and Dad's house. We go there nearly every Sunday and have Sunday dinner. They have an incredible piece of property... 10 acres with lots of HUGE trees, a creek running through it, beautiful shady yard with lovely landscaping, a gigantic garden, chickens, geese and llamas (for a limited time... the llamas will soon live at a new home- McKee's Petting Zoo), and a great spot where we burn fallen limbs and all the burnable garbage. The latter is not an official fire pit, but we often burn stuff and have hot dog/marshmallow roasts there. Their home is just a pleasant place to be. Relaxed with plenty of things for the kids to do. (Trampoline, teeter-totter, tire swing, riding lawnmower rides, chasing chickens... the list goes on and on!) We spend a lot of time there and we are so grateful for such a beautiful, feel-good place to spend time with the people we love the most.

As a child, a favorite place was the many canyons of the Wasatch Front in Utah. We spent many a Saturday or Sunday afternoon playing up those beautiful canyons. I have a lot of joy wrapped up in those memories, and I am forever grateful to my parents for taking the time to do little things like that that probably weren't always the easiest thing to do (as I've learned since my journey of parenthood began). Thanks Mom and Dad...

A Little Gushing from the Mother

I just have to take this moment to say how adorable my Rohan is. He's no master of it yet, but today he rode his bike with no training wheels! I was behind him the whole time with my arms ready to catch him, and he did fall several times, but he rode a LOT without me touching him! How cute is that! The kid just turned three in May! Mac was still three when he learned to ride his bike without training wheels, but he was only two months from turning four, not two months past three! He can't identify his alphabet, but he can ride a bike! He's working on the large motor skills.... :)

Sorry. Just had to take the liberty because I can. It's my blog! :)

The Best Things

Sometimes being a little brother is hard. Sometimes your big brother and big sister get to go play at their friends' house and you have to stay with your mom. But then sometimes you feel a little sad and your mom feels a little bad and you get to drive through the Dairy Queen to get a chocolate dipped ice cream cone. Then you get to sit on the front porch steps in the sunshine on a lovely spring day and make a mess of your face, hands, shirt, and pants while your mom tells you how much she loves you and how cute you are!

Sometimes the hard things come and magically transform into the best things with a little help from ice cream cones and love.