Today is International Women's Day. I usually just check off days like this just like any other day. Yes, women have come a long way -- especially in the last 100 years -- but we have a long way to go.
This afternoon I saw this day in a different light. I saw it as a day to rejoice. My phone rang this morning, and my daughter asked me to babysit this afternoon. She is pregnant with her third child and had a doctor's appointment this afternoon. Her husband wanted to go with her to drive because she is having Braxton Hicks contractions, or what we used to call in my day, false labor. With or without the fancy name, it stinks, and it's miserable.
Grandpa and I played with the grand kids and fed them dinner. My daughter looked absolutely miserable when they picked up the kids a few minutes ago. I was hoping she was on her way home to go to bed, but she is actually on her way to a church meeting. She is Primary President (head of the organization for the children -- think Sunday School) for our LDS congregation, and there is a presidency meeting tonight. She doesn't want to cancel it because there are things that need to be handled before her baby is born, and she has given birth early the last two times, so she wants to be prepared. As much as I wanted to hog tie her to a bed to get some rest, I knew that she is doing what she thinks is best for the children at church. She has a responsibility to them which she takes seriously.
Women all over the world put themselves last. We are the nurturers. We take care of everyone else first -- to the detriment of our own health sometimes. As worried as I am for my lovely daughter who will soon have three children under age three, I admire her and my other daughters for being nurturers. My daughters are wonderful examples of what women should strive to be -- caring, loving servants to humanity.
So instead of just marking off one more day on the calendar today, I will celebrate in my heart International Women's Day. I will celebrate it in honor of all those strong women who have gone before me, and those who will come after me. Thank you all for being my example.
Showing posts with label Pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pregnancy. Show all posts
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
They Are Too Innocent
There was a picture on Facebook the other day of a baby who has heart problems. Those close to the family were asking for others to fast and pray on behalf of the baby, the family, and the medical staff who will be performing surgery shortly. I don't know the family, but immediately my heart went out to them, as it always does when I hear of little ones suffering. We have been there.
My first pregnancy was very difficult. I gained 80 pounds, and it was not because I was eating. As a matter of fact, about the only things I could consistently keep down for nine months was Jello and raisins. Meanwhile, the doctor was yelling at me for eating "fried foods." Yeah, right. Whatever! If it had not been my first pregnancy, I would have known something was wrong. Molly would kick me until I would double over in pain. I didn't know that was not normal. Two weeks past (the doctor's) due date (only three days past mine), my water broke, and it was green. I didn't know that was not normal either, but soon found out that meant trouble.
To make a very long story short, Molly had a lung cyst the size of a baseball. Unfortunately, only one in 100,000 babies has this problem, and the symptoms are the same for a diaphragmatic hernia, so she was originally misdiagnosed. A diaphragmatic hernia is caused by the lack of a diaphragm so the bowels move up into the lungs. They go in, put everything where it belongs, and then try to form a diaphragm. They originally gave her a 50/50 chance of survival. Before she was 12 hours old, she underwent two separate surgeries. They took her in for surgery originally for the diaphragmatic hernia, but after five hours of surgery, came back and told us that she had the lung cyst. She was still under the anesthesia, and they were about to do the second surgery. They told us that they might have to remove part or all of one lung, but that the other lung would probably grow to twice the size to compensate. It turned out that they were able to remove the cyst without removing any of the lung. The recovery process was long and hard, but she is now my rocket scientist with a family of her own.
Hannah was my most healthy child, but when she was four months old they almost put her back in the hospital because she wasn't gaining weight (which was a problem with all my children). They waited one more week, and then she began to pick up a little. There is actually a note in Hannah's medical chart that says, "Nonthriving child; good mom." (In other words, don't call Child Protective Services.) Like Molly, Hannah too survived, has a career and a family of her own.
After Hannah, I had a miscarriage. I wasn't very far along, but I still think about that baby. I wonder if we'll have the opportunity in heaven to raise the baby. We don't know, because it is one of those things that Heavenly Father has not yet revealed. I hope I'm prepared for the answer when it comes.
I was borderline diabetic when I was pregnant with Ezra, so he was born addicted to sugar. I wasn't even allowed to hold him when he was born. They ripped him away and began pumping sugar down him. He was followed by an endocrinologist until he was 15 years old because of his odd growth patterns. He was short for a very long time. There was a point where they wanted to give him growth hormones, and we said no. I'm so glad we did, because he finally caught up. If we had given him hormones, he might have been eight feet tall! Ezra also grew to adulthood, and he also has a family of his own.
I had the flu when I was pregnant with Kaylonnie, and the amniotic fluid was contaminated. When she was born, instead of taking a large breath and getting all the fluid out of her lungs, she took a tiny breath and left most of the contaminated fluid in her lungs. We almost lost her to pneumonia. I had never heard of a newborn with pneumonia. I came home from the hospital on Mother's Day, leaving Kaylonnie in the Nursery Intensive Care Unit. Kaylonnie is a fine young woman--now 21 years old and will soon be off to serve a mission in Brazil.
These little babies are much too innocent and precious to have to deal with all these problems. There were obviously some lessons that we needed to learn as parents. Someday, one of the first questions I'm going to ask Heavenly Father is if there might have been a better way to teach me those lessons without my children having to deal with all that. I know there must be a reason that I can't now comprehend.
So what did I learn from all this? I learned that my marriage can withstand anything if my husband and I stick together through thick and thin. I learned that every tiny baby is a fragile and precious gift from God. I learned to rely on Heavenly Father when there is nothing that I can do on my own. I learned that life is not easy, but well worth it.
My first pregnancy was very difficult. I gained 80 pounds, and it was not because I was eating. As a matter of fact, about the only things I could consistently keep down for nine months was Jello and raisins. Meanwhile, the doctor was yelling at me for eating "fried foods." Yeah, right. Whatever! If it had not been my first pregnancy, I would have known something was wrong. Molly would kick me until I would double over in pain. I didn't know that was not normal. Two weeks past (the doctor's) due date (only three days past mine), my water broke, and it was green. I didn't know that was not normal either, but soon found out that meant trouble.
To make a very long story short, Molly had a lung cyst the size of a baseball. Unfortunately, only one in 100,000 babies has this problem, and the symptoms are the same for a diaphragmatic hernia, so she was originally misdiagnosed. A diaphragmatic hernia is caused by the lack of a diaphragm so the bowels move up into the lungs. They go in, put everything where it belongs, and then try to form a diaphragm. They originally gave her a 50/50 chance of survival. Before she was 12 hours old, she underwent two separate surgeries. They took her in for surgery originally for the diaphragmatic hernia, but after five hours of surgery, came back and told us that she had the lung cyst. She was still under the anesthesia, and they were about to do the second surgery. They told us that they might have to remove part or all of one lung, but that the other lung would probably grow to twice the size to compensate. It turned out that they were able to remove the cyst without removing any of the lung. The recovery process was long and hard, but she is now my rocket scientist with a family of her own.
Hannah was my most healthy child, but when she was four months old they almost put her back in the hospital because she wasn't gaining weight (which was a problem with all my children). They waited one more week, and then she began to pick up a little. There is actually a note in Hannah's medical chart that says, "Nonthriving child; good mom." (In other words, don't call Child Protective Services.) Like Molly, Hannah too survived, has a career and a family of her own.
After Hannah, I had a miscarriage. I wasn't very far along, but I still think about that baby. I wonder if we'll have the opportunity in heaven to raise the baby. We don't know, because it is one of those things that Heavenly Father has not yet revealed. I hope I'm prepared for the answer when it comes.
I was borderline diabetic when I was pregnant with Ezra, so he was born addicted to sugar. I wasn't even allowed to hold him when he was born. They ripped him away and began pumping sugar down him. He was followed by an endocrinologist until he was 15 years old because of his odd growth patterns. He was short for a very long time. There was a point where they wanted to give him growth hormones, and we said no. I'm so glad we did, because he finally caught up. If we had given him hormones, he might have been eight feet tall! Ezra also grew to adulthood, and he also has a family of his own.
I had the flu when I was pregnant with Kaylonnie, and the amniotic fluid was contaminated. When she was born, instead of taking a large breath and getting all the fluid out of her lungs, she took a tiny breath and left most of the contaminated fluid in her lungs. We almost lost her to pneumonia. I had never heard of a newborn with pneumonia. I came home from the hospital on Mother's Day, leaving Kaylonnie in the Nursery Intensive Care Unit. Kaylonnie is a fine young woman--now 21 years old and will soon be off to serve a mission in Brazil.
These little babies are much too innocent and precious to have to deal with all these problems. There were obviously some lessons that we needed to learn as parents. Someday, one of the first questions I'm going to ask Heavenly Father is if there might have been a better way to teach me those lessons without my children having to deal with all that. I know there must be a reason that I can't now comprehend.
So what did I learn from all this? I learned that my marriage can withstand anything if my husband and I stick together through thick and thin. I learned that every tiny baby is a fragile and precious gift from God. I learned to rely on Heavenly Father when there is nothing that I can do on my own. I learned that life is not easy, but well worth it.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
He Took Pity On Me
I was 8 1/2 months pregnant with my first child. I was miserable. My feet were swollen twice their normal size. My back hurt so bad I thought I was going to die. I was HUGE, and I felt like a baby elephant. I was determined to work as long as possible because we needed the money, and because I didn't want to sit in the non-air conditioned home we had just purchased and stare at the many projects I needed to do, but was too pregnant to begin.
At the time, I was working in a 4-attorney office, and George Littlefield was the senior partner. One day during a quiet lunch hour, I was so exhausted that I decided to take a 10-minute nap. There was a couch in George's private office, and I curled up and went to sleep. Unfortunately, I slept hard and woke up an hour and a half later. To my horror, I discovered that George had tiptoed into his office, grabbed the project he was working on, and taken it to the conference room to work so that I could continue to sleep. Obviously, I thanked him profusely through my embarrassment, but I was (and still am) quite touched that he took pity on me and was so compassionate.
We never know how long our little acts of kindness will be remembered. I'm sure that in the hot summer of 1977, George wasn't thinking that I would still be touched in 2011, long after his death, from that little act of kindness. As I go through this week, I'm going to think about George each day. I'm going to seek to do little acts of kindness each day.
At the time, I was working in a 4-attorney office, and George Littlefield was the senior partner. One day during a quiet lunch hour, I was so exhausted that I decided to take a 10-minute nap. There was a couch in George's private office, and I curled up and went to sleep. Unfortunately, I slept hard and woke up an hour and a half later. To my horror, I discovered that George had tiptoed into his office, grabbed the project he was working on, and taken it to the conference room to work so that I could continue to sleep. Obviously, I thanked him profusely through my embarrassment, but I was (and still am) quite touched that he took pity on me and was so compassionate.
We never know how long our little acts of kindness will be remembered. I'm sure that in the hot summer of 1977, George wasn't thinking that I would still be touched in 2011, long after his death, from that little act of kindness. As I go through this week, I'm going to think about George each day. I'm going to seek to do little acts of kindness each day.
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