Cheesy Love Post

This has been on my mind for a while. So I had to blog it to help me process it. And to help me always remember.

When we started dating, I struggled to let myself fall in love with Jason. Even when I admitted I was in love, often doubts would rush over me, and I found myself drowning in fear. When we would go to the temple, I always knew he was “the one” for me. But we were moving so fast, and I had been hurt so much by the divorce, and then the guy I dated for ten months. I had envisioned myself marrying him, and he broke my heart. There were no “fireworks” or “weak-in-the-knees” moments for us. It just…. was… it just fit.

Even now, after two years of marriage, I find myself fighting to keep old wounds closed. My heart is still hurt. Jason is helping me, but years of hurt will take time to get past. I know we were brought together by a loving Heavenly Father, and because of Jesus Christ we can be together forever.

When we became engaged, exactly 2 months after we met, I still faced many fears. I knew that I wanted to sing a song to Jason at the reception. I had always been afraid to sing in front of people, but somehow I found myself longing to sing to him. Those who’ve known me the longest were shocked when I mentioned wanting to sing in public for him. They teased “he must be good for you if you’re going to sing!”

As I tried to choose a song, I read through all our text messages, listened to the radio, browsed sheet music, and prayed. There were a lot I thought were fitting. Some I couldn’t hit the notes on, some I didn’t like the entire song so I couldn’t use them. I sat down at my parents’ piano, put some music in front of me, and started to play. As I played, I glanced at their digital picture frame, and just as our engagement picture flashed, I was singing “All along, I believed I would find you” and suddenly I knew I had found the song I should sing to my love. Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years”: (lyrics are bold/italicized. My thoughts are regular font)

Heart beats fast
Colors and promises
How to be brave (the last word I’d use to describe myself was “brave”, so how could I be?)
How can I love when I'm afraid to fall (so afraid that if my heart broke again I’d never recover)
But watching you stand alone (I will never forget the first time I saw Jason, standing alone in the IHOP entrance, waiting for me to show. There was some confusion about our first date, so we almost didn’t meet. But when he said “I’ll just get a table for one” I turned my car around. I couldn’t bear the thought of him sitting alone. Later, he laughed about that because he wouldn’t have minded eating alone.)
All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow (when I look in his eyes, I find peace. I’ve said this from day one.)

One step closer

I have died every day, waiting for you
Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more

Time stands still (When Jason proposed, it was like the world stopped for a few minutes as we considered eternity together)
Beauty in all she is
I will be brave (although I don’t feel brave, I can be brave with him)
I will not let anything, take away
What's standing in front of me (and Satan has certainly tried to break us)
Every breath, every hour has come to this (all of our experiences are what brought us together. Without the hurt, we couldn’t appreciate the joy)
One step closer
I have died every day, waiting for you
Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more
And all along I believed, I would find you (after a priesthood blessing I was given, I knew that I would one day find a man that would “leave [me] in awe of the way [I] can be treated”.)
Time has brought your heart to me, (TIME. Timing made a big difference. If we hadn’t met at the time we did, things never would have worked out. The more I think about this, the more I realize the truth in that)
I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more
One step closer
One step closer
I have died every day, waiting for you
Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years (despite his efforts to hide it, Jason fights fears, too. Divorce hurts, no matter the circumstances. Sometimes I forget that, but I try to be strong for him, as he is for me.)
I'll love you for a thousand more
And all along I believed, I would find you (all along… even when I cried myself to sleep. Even when I questioned why Heavenly Father would not stop the hurt. I knew, deep down, that one day I would find the right man for me.)
Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more (and more than that)……….


It's been really hard at times. Blending a family is not for the weak, and I know the worst isn't over yet. But at least we love each other, so we will figure it out with the help of a loving Heavenly Father, who brought us together.

When Your Child is Hurting

My heart is breaking. I don't know where to begin. Every parent can tell you the heartache that is felt when their children are hurting. But to actually experience it, is the loneliest feeling. I am at a loss with my son, and it feels like I have nowhere to turn.

Years ago, Carson started talking about hating himself. Having struggled with low self-esteem and suicidal tendencies at a young age myself, I wanted to nip that in the bud. I tried to focus on positivity, complimenting him, and reminding him of his importance. Several times I sat down with him to explain how much I loved him, how I gave myself shots for months to get him, how I prayed for years to have him join our family. I told him how much I loved him, and we had many family home evening talks about how each of us add so much to our family, and sharing the things we all love about each other.

The episodes were infrequent. But they weren't stopping.

Eventually, Carson wasn't just talking about hating himself. He started talking about wanting to die. I tried everything I could think of. I prayed, I had discussions, and continued to show him unconditional love.

The episodes were more common.

Things escalated. Carson would lash out, trying to hurt his siblings or break things and talking about killing himself. Nothing I did made a difference. After a while, he tried to hurt himself. I told Carson that he should probably not get baptized if he didn't respect his body. He wanted to get baptized, and I felt like it might help him overcome those feelings if he had the companionship of the Holy Ghost. It did help for a while..... but the episodes came back.

Carson didn't just threaten to hurt himself. He actually did. It was superficial, but it scared me. I called about getting him into counseling.

The counselor was no help at all. He never once talked to Carson individually, he didn't seem to be trying to find the root of the problem, he didn't try any sort of therapy, just talking. I am sure the therapist was good, but he wasn't a good FIT for us. He made me feel like I just had to make some changes in my parenting and Carson would improve.

I read articles online, I prayed, Jason and I discussed at length what we should do. Carson always waited for an audience before he would act out. He would sit, waiting, and once I looked at him or gave him any attention, he would start trying to break things, or hurt himself (or others). I tried, and I failed. Nothing was working. Things were escalating. Before, Carson only acted up at home. Usually only around me. If friends or extended family were over, he didn't say those things. Jason felt he was just trying to manipulate me because he knew I would react. Which seemed to be right. And to some degree, I still think that is true.

Soon, I got a note from Carson's teacher. This year is the first time the twins have been in class together. Vanessa told me that Carson had acted up, and the teacher wanted to talk to me. The note just said "I would like to discuss something that happened with Carson. Please call me." We played phone tag for a few days, and then I went in one afternoon. She told me Carson had talked about killing himself in class. He had started banging his head on the desk, and several students were afraid. Then, he wrote "I am stupid" on assignments. I fought back tears as we discussed how we could help Carson.

In the 4 months since school started, I have received multiple reports (usually from Vanessa before anyone else) about Carson trying to cut himself with scissors, or banging his head on the desk. At home, he was threatening to kill others. Talk of killing, running away, death, and suicide became commonplace. When I called my insurance about a new therapist, the person I spoke with made me feel like I wasn't doing my part to help my son. Like I didn't care enough about him, because I didn't rush him to an ER and have him admitted to the psych ward.

I have hidden all the sharp objects in our home, and Carson started therapy with someone new last month. I thought things were looking up. But the last two days Carson has had episodes in school. That's the first time he's had back-to-back episodes.

For several years this has been escalating. All I can do is wonder what I've done wrong. I have struggled with depression, anxiety, and bipolar disorder. I should know how to help my own child. I doubt every decision I make when it comes to Carson. What will make this worse? Will anything make things improve? I was hopeful, and I still think this therapist is a good fit. But I'm losing hope.

I am afraid to ask for help or advice because people will often blame me. I must have raised him wrong, or he is being abused, or I got remarried too quickly, or I had a baby and he was traumatized. If circumstances weren't to blame, then it's my genes. I passed on a mental illness to my son. I am to blame, and I don't know how to fix this. My little boy will probably struggle for the rest of his life. I don't know if I'm strong enough to help him. I am so afraid for him. I am in shock how he can go from screaming about killing himself, to wanting a hug and a kiss and telling me he loves me, in a split second.

When a child faces serious illness, parents usually face feelings of guilt. They may feel lonely, or afraid. They can find support groups, other parents struggling, doctors that understand, neighbors who will help, family to pray for them. While I know that I have been very blessed to understand mental illness, and I realize that society has come a long way in understanding, I also know that this is never going to be accepted as "just" an illness. If he is medicated, there will be those that think he's too young and I should not "drug" him. I will face judgement on every decision I make, and I already struggle with those decisions. I find myself trying to shut down, afraid to love him because I know that it will hurt to love a child with this kind of life-long battle.

I truly don't know if I'm strong enough to watch my baby fight depression.

Travis Joshua White (TJ)

I can't believe that just 6 days after my last post, I delivered my sweet little boy, and I was blessed to have the VBAC I had hoped for. At about 11:00 on July 12th, I felt a small gush as I was cuddled up to Jason in bed. I rolled over, getting ready to make yet another trip to the bathroom. As I rolled over, there was a much bigger gush, and I knew my water had broken. I told Jason my water broke, and he said "are you sure it wasn't just pee?" then he looked over at the bed, and said "oh... yeah... your water definitely broke."


I took a shower, called my coworker to inform her she'd need to cover me the next day, and let my mom know we were headed to the hospital. Jason woke Karleah up to let her know what was happening and that she'd need to watch the kids for a while.


We got to the hospital after midnight, and the nurses seemed to doubt that my water had broken. They had to "make sure". Of course, they confirmed it and admitted me. I was blessed to go in when I did. The nurses questioned if I wanted a VBAC once they saw that I have 2 previous cesareans. I had the perfect nurse for my situation. She questioned why I had the 2nd cesarean, and rolled her eyes because she agreed there was no reason I couldn't have had a VBAC then. She was realistic, but very optimistic as well. She supported the VBAC option, and said that if I had to have a C-section, she would make sure the staff knew that I wanted to hold my baby immediately and have skin-to-skin contact and be able to nurse the baby right away. She had done personal studies on the importance of this contact, and even though it wasn't exactly hospital "policy" she would do her best to make sure I had that opportunity. I was so relieved!


There was meconium in the amniotic fluid, so I knew the hospital would be putting me on a timeline, and if I didn't progress quickly enough, I would have to have cesarean. I was afraid to get an epidural too soon (or at all) because it had slowed my labor before. I was pacing my room, trying to "move things along", but when the nurse (Jenni) checked me a couple hours later, I wasn't progressing. I know that I looked frightened, because she turned and put her hand on my leg, then calmly said "it's OK. Things could change. You've done this before, and can do it again. Either way, it will be the best outcome for you and baby." I couldn't have asked for a better nurse! So wonderfully supportive of my choices and hopes!


Around 4am, when Jenni returned, she was just as surprised as I was to find just how quickly things were moving. I got the epidural. I was struggling with the decision, because I wanted another un-medicated birth. Part of me is still disappointed I didn't wait it out. But I had very high hopes that at least I would have a VBAC. At about 5:30, I knew it was time to have my baby. My doctor showed up just in time! TJ was born at 5:59am, weighing 8 pounds, 3 ounces and 20 inches long. I got to hold him immediately, though only for a couple minutes since he was struggling to breath with all that meconium in his lungs.


I lay there in the hospital, thrilled that I had successfully delivered my baby, feeling very empowered. Jenni had just missed it. But I DID it! My doctor said "way to go! you beat the odds!". I just smiled, and looked at Jason.


TJ is now 2 1/2 months old, and I still feel so happy that I was blessed to have the experience I had hoped for.

Sorting it out

I am 38 weeks along in the pregnancy today. I am so excited to have a baby with Jason, and to see him interact with a newborn. I am also increasingly frustrated at the number of people that share their opinions on my hopes for a VBAC delivery. It's probably just because I'm hormonal, more so this pregnancy than any other! I don't want to justify my feelings and thoughts, but I do need to sort them out so here goes.


10 1/2 years ago, I had an un-medicated birth experience. Nathanael was born before I was admitted to the hospital. The doctors didn't believe I was in labor, because I managed to stay calm through some training I received on natural childbirth. I had such a sense of satisfaction, such pure joy that I had been able to accomplish such a thing, when so many people are against it. Choosing natural childbirth doesn't make me "crazy" or "hippie" or "old fashioned". It just means I made a different choice than many others do. WHY people always have to question those of us who choose natural methods, is beyond me. It's how it was done for centuries before. I recovered quickly, and when I moved 10 days after Nathanael's birth, I was lifting boxes and furniture with the men.


Fast forward to the twins, I had an emergency cesarean because my water broke and with Carson bum-first and Vanessa foot-first it was not really an option to deliver any other way. Compared to the feeling of accomplishment after my previous experience, this was discouraging. I struggled with deep depression (no stranger in my life...) because I felt I had done "nothing". I was strapped to a table, and my son was passed into the next room for breathing help, and I barely got to see my daughter. Physically, my recovery was much easier than anticipated, but it was the emotions I struggled with. Maybe if I didn't have any comparison, it would be different. But there is no skin-to-skin contact immediately after delivery with cesarean, and I had to wait several hours to try and nurse. The staff gave Carson formula against my will, WITHOUT consulting me. I felt so powerless, with Carson in NICU, and the staff there pushing me to leave a feeding tube in when I wanted nothing more than to breastfeed him. I was not a first-time mom, but I felt like the entire staff refused to hear me out, they just wanted things to go according to their own timeline, their own plan, and their policies. When you are overwhelmed with so many other things, what can you do?


Two years later, I had Faith. I told my midwife (YES!! I WENT TO A MIDWIFE! I'm still not a crazy hippie) I wanted to do VBAC. Because of my previous cesarean, he had to send me to an OB/GYN, but he still saw me regularly. The midwife wanted me to go VBAC, but informed me that the hospital I had to deliver at, and the OB he had sent me to would probably not "allow" it. My baby was in position, I had already delivered vaginally twice, and yet I felt completely alone in my hopes for VBAC. I don't think it was medically necessary, but when everyone that is supposed to help you pushes you towards another C-section, it's hard to argue. I had a cesarean at 39 weeks. I prepared myself for it this time, having known it was going to go that way. But if I had been able to see 6 years down the road, and known how much that would affect my choices if I had another baby, I would have fought harder. How can anyone expect a pregnant, emotional woman to argue with medical professionals about their options?


So here I am, 38 weeks along, hoping and praying I go into labor naturally and things progress so quickly that no medical professional can force me to have cesarean. Yet, I am scared that if I do that, there will be problems with the scar tissue and it will be much worse than scheduling a C-section. My doctor supports my hopes for VBAC but also warns me of the dangers. Jason's job requires a lot of weighing risks to benefits. Although the concept of struggling emotionally with having a C-section is foreign to him, he knows how much it means to me. But my sweet husband, he is just as concerned about the physical risks. He would have so much on his plate if things went poorly.


I am struggling with the choices. I don't want to deal with the surgery, the recovery, trying to carry the burden of a newborn while balancing the needs of my other 10 kids, and the things that need to be done at home and in the yard. But I don't want to take unnecessary risks if this baby really is as big as the doctor thinks. I have had suggestions for blue/black cohosh and the use of clary sage essential oil to induce labor. But every time I think about it, it feels wrong. I know it is not for me, and it almost makes me angry that Heavenly Father is pushing me away from what I think I want. There is a reason.


Monday I have an appointment, and Jason and I both feel that he will want to schedule a C-section. The doctor has wanted that for a while, but has postponed it because of my hopes for VBAC. I still struggle with the decisions. I cry when I think too much about it. It's out of my hands.

Double Baptism

For several before Carson and Vanessa turned 8, I would ask them about baptism, quizzing them on primary and family home evening lessons. I wanted to make sure they were choosing baptism, not just following the crowd of friends, neighbors, and relatives that have made that choice. If the Lord has said that at 8-years-old you are accountable for your choices, then I know they are able. But they still need to make an educated decision.

Every time I asked why they wanted to be baptized, the answer was simple. They wanted to be like Jesus. In a brief meeting with the Bishop, I was in awe of their innocence and understanding, and of their strong desire to be baptized. They just wanted to do what they felt was right.

Just like when Karleah and Nathanael were baptized, I felt so anxious about everything. Had I really taught them enough? Did they really understand what a big choice this would be? To follow Jesus throughout the rest of their lives? 8 years is so little time, and I know that I could have done more to prepare them. As with every major event in a child's life, I become overly aware of all my failures and shortcomings. I question the way I handle things, what I have made my priorities, and what I have failed to teach them. Then, as I hear the simple testimony of my tiny, 8-year-olds (all 4 that I have watched reach that age...) I know I am not doing it all wrong. I still fail, but there are primary teachers, family members, friends, and neighbors that help fill those gaps.

The big day was April 9th. We got up early and got everybody ready. Vanessa had a beautiful dress my mom made, and Carson had a brand new tie and tie-tack I chose for him. They were both ecstatic and I tried to focus on that as the chaos of getting 10 kids (and my husband) ready and out the door on time sometimes overwhelmed me.

The twins had asked Grandma Stout to say the opening prayer, Grandma White to give a talk, Grandpa Stout to give a talk and Grandma Stucky to say the closing prayer. It really touched me to see all those grandparents there for them.


Their dad (Aaron) baptized them. Vanessa went first, Carson said she needed to, "Ladies first!" I watched Vanessa, then we stood right outside the font to watch Carson. When it was time to be confirmed as members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, Vanessa said it was Carson's turn to be first "I had to go first last time!"

Jason confirmed them and gave them the gift of the holy ghost. In the circle was their dad, their stepdad, 3 uncles, and some men in the ward. I nearly cried when I saw Aaron and Jason in the circle together, hands on each other's shoulders as they focused on the event. There were no hard feelings between any of them, there was no contention. The twins could feel pure joy. It was such a blessing for all involved.

To finish off, the Bishop asked Carson and Vanessa to stand on a chair so they could see all the people that came to show their love and support. Vanessa smiled as she teared up a little (no denying she's mine.) Carson grinned from ear to ear, and they both just glowed with peace and joy.

All in all, everything was wonderful. I am so proud to be their mommy, and I am grateful for men that honor the priesthood above all else, making a day like this possible.

We're PREGNANT!

The first couple weeks of November, I could feel a difference. I didn't want to take a pregnancy test, but I had a strong feeling. I was afraid to get my hopes up again. On the Monday 16th of November, I couldn't stand the wait. I bought a test, and it turned out positive. I wanted to tell Jason in a fun way, but I found it impossible to wait until he got home. I called him about 5 minutes after I took the test. He already knew. As soon as he answered, I simply said "hi. guess what I did?" and he said "took a test?" it's amazing how we can be so in sync sometimes.


I was afraid to get my hopes up. A few days later, I knew this pregnancy was different than the miscarriage. There is no real explanation, but I "felt" pregnant more than I did in August and into September.


That weekend, on Sunday evening, the 22nd I noticed some spotting. I stared in disbelief, and after I'd been in there a while, Jason called out to me, and I said "I'm bleeding." I cried, all night. Jason's shirt was drenched in my tears. I had so much anger. I said I wanted to get my IUD back and never try again. I prayed, but it was in anger to the Father in Heaven that has blessed me so much, I was blinded by my heartache. I told Jason that I wish I hadn't taken the pregnancy test so early, because then I wouldn't have known, and the spotting would have just been another period to me.


Monday, at work, the spotting was gone. There was never any pain like there had been just two months before. I started texting my amazing sister-in-law, who has experienced three miscarriages. I just knew she'd help me, no matter what. She suggested that maybe it was the "normal" bleeding some women have. She was so careful not to get my hopes up, but keep me optimistic anyway. Tuesday, two days before Thanksgiving, I bought another test. The one Chrystal had recommended to me, a digital test that would estimate if you had been pregnant for more than 3 weeks. It was positive! Still, I was afraid to get my hopes up. Chrystal helped me so much, and I can't thank her enough. She was my greatest support (Jason was there too, but I needed someone who had been through a miscarriage).


On Thanksgiving, we were invited to Jason's brother's house. We were still undecided about announcing our pregnancy so early. I hadn't been to a Dr. yet. Karleah insisted we get in a circle and have everyone share what they were thankful for. (She had a really good one!) so, conveniently, I was last. Karleah already knew the whole situation, sometimes she takes the brunt of my frustrations and she knew something was off. She knew I had a positive test, that I had spotted, and that we were pretty sure I was still pregnant. Karleah was right before me, so I whispered "record mine" and she got her phone out. I got emotional before I began, I was afraid to say out loud that we were pregnant. I said "I am thankful for 10 amazing kids. For 'that guy' (pointing to Jason) and the new knowledge of that we will soon have 11 kids." There was chaos, Bonnie joked that the exchange student, Maria, was the 11th kid because our kids seemed so shocked that I could be pregnant.


The rest of the weekend, I was so scared. Last time we had shared our news, I miscarried just a few hours later. I was so nervous that I would lose this baby, too. We had a doctor's appointment on Monday the 30 of November, and I expressed my concerns to the doctor. We did a quick "off the record" ultrasound and he said everything looked great. We heard the baby's heartbeat, and saw it on the monitor. Such relief flooded over me.


We had trouble getting a hold of Jason's mom, she works a lot of hours during the holidays so she wasn't up for visitors. Finally, Jason drove over there, and left a copy of the ultrasound picture on her fridge. Sunday, December 13th we told my family, by handing my sister a birthday card that said "for your birthday you get to make our announcement". She just stared at me, and asked "really? really?" then finally announced, but I think everyone had figured it out before she said anything.


Once again, I was flooded with a fear that we would miscarry now that the news was getting out.


I had so many fun ideas to announce our pregnancy to the rest of our friends and family. But I was afraid to. My "public" Facebook announcement was simple, right there with our excitement of our first anniversary together. I had a day of anxiety again, but things are going well. Statistically, our chance of miscarriage again is low, and I'm 13 weeks where the odds significantly drop.

I look forward to this new adventure. I know it will be hard, and there are parts that scare me. But I am excited to share it with my new husband.

Inspiration

Today's Facebook post is funny, but it's sad how true it is:

If you give a mom a yummy recipe, she will want to make a tasty dinner.
To make the tasty dinner, she will need to clean the kitchen.
To clean the kitchen, she must do the dishes.
To do the dishes she needs to empty the garbage.
While taking out the garbage, she will spill and decide to change her clothes.
When she goes to change her clothes, she will notice the messy living room.
As she picks up a few things, she is reminded she needs to change.
As she goes to change, she remembers she needs to do laundry.
As she does laundry, she sees her laptop and remembers she needs to do some homework.
Mid homework, she remembers she never at soup in the slow cooker.
She will head back to the kitchen, only to be reminded how terrible the house looks after a week of not feeling well.
Then, she will get on Facebook and try to forget it all.
But then, she sees another slow cooker soup recipe.....

This is good for a laugh now, but at the time I was so frustrated and discouraged. I text Jason that I wanted to drop out of school. He pointed out I have "A"s and am doing fine, but supported me if I needed to drop out because of emotional stress. He said he loved me, and sent a flirty text. I hate to admit I was not appreciative of his efforts and his support. I finally talked myself in to staying in school, but I am still wondering WHY.....

I didn't get any homework or studying done, but my kitchen looks great! After dinner (we had sandwiches.... never did get soup going...) I saw something that got me really upset. I am part of an LDS Single Moms group, and although I am not singly anymore, I stayed in the group because I have a lot of friends in there, and sometimes I get great advice, or like to try and offer support to the other women. There are quite a few women in the group that are pregnant. Anyway, today I got on to see a post that did not help my mood.....

This woman posted something about being pregnant. There are a few pregnant women in the group, but most of them were married when they conceived, and the rest I just try not to judge, I am far from perfect myself. She has posted a few times now, about how excited she is to be having her boyfriend's baby, and what a miracle that baby is because she had to do IVF when she had been married, but this time she "only" had sex three times........ I'm going to back track a bit here.....

For 8 1/2 years (cumulatively), I cried and prayed for the opportunity to be a mother. I was not sure why I could not be granted such a request, when it was a righteous desire. The scriptures say that we should multiply and replenish, but I couldn't. The scriptures say that we need to ask, and if our desires are righteous we will be blessed. Yet this most worthy of causes, to be a mother, could not be fulfilled by any amount of praying, fasting, pondering, studying, or temple and church attendance. I magnified my calling, and I cried every one of those months that I did not get pregnant. Though my life is different now, I still remember the heartache, and there are scars in my heart.

I was MAD, and HURT by the way this woman just boasted about how she had broken commandments, and was now "blessed" for doing so. I struggled with my testimony during the divorce. I struggled to stay morally clean, and often I faltered. But I worked really hard to get to the temple, and Jason and I try to attend regularly. We consult with the Lord for our major decisions and pray for our kids daily. We read the scriptures fairly regularly. And yet, Heavenly Father, for whatever reasons, did not allow me to keep the baby we felt so strongly about having.

I know that Heavenly Father has a plan for each of us, we all have our own unique trials, and it is not fair to compare. But as I looked at her picture, and read her comments, and the praise so many women offered her for "being strong" the hurt surfaced, and as soon as I dropped the teenagers off for their activity, I started bawling. I don't understand. I haven't lost my faith, I know that there are reasons I cannot comprehend for things like this. Doesn't change the fact that it is a challenge.

I text my friend Emily, who said (basically) to go ahead and be mad today, then pray to be able to forgive tomorrow. What a wonderful idea. So I cried, and let the emotions out. I prayed through my tears, and then my amazing husband called me. Talk about inspiration.... as I explained my feelings (this blog barely scratches the surface) he said "I hadn't thought of it like that" and somehow, that made it easier to let go. It's NOT "like that" and I was letting my emotions control me.

Before I knew it, my husband had left work and come home to comfort me. How is that for a great man? He held me, and I found comfort and peace in his presence.

Of course, after all this, I had to get on Facebook again (yeah, I know.... I'm addicted...) and immediately saw a quote from Henry B. Eyring: "Logical thinking will not be enough to get answers to the questions that matter most in life. We need revelation from God." With that, I was able to let go of the hurt, and feel the love of my Savior and Heavenly Father. They do not want me to hurt, this is not personal, and somehow this will be for my own good.