Honest Not Noble

I have dusted off and started reading again a dear old friend, a book, called, "Gone Too Soon". I also attended BYU Women's Conference recently. I chose to attend some classes that dealt with topics such as grief, mourning, and trials. There is one thought that keeps ringing out from the book I am reading. The thought in the book was that we should write down our feelings as we work through the grief we experience when we lose a child. We should journal those thoughts openly and honestly, but not be noble. I thought that was key to be honest, but not noble. Of course there are lessons to be learned, miracles to be found, and the silver lining to be seen. While those things are true, if you can't be honest with yourself, then how can you ever really move on?

It's a rainy day today. I love rain, thunder, and lightning. Today that dark sky matched my mood. The rain matched my tears. I felt as if Heaven was weeping with me. I didn't want to get out of bed. I wanted to stay snuggled beneath my comforter. I got up and went through the motions. I made breakfast, fixed hair, signed school papers and got my children off to school. I faked my smile. I faked that happy mommy tone. I assured my kids that today was going to be a great day, even though I didn't believe it would be.

I feel like I have had some better days. I have had days that I haven't cried. I will count that as a win. I have had days that I have laughed so hard I snorted. I have had days where some amount of time passes and I feel like my old self.

However.... certain things make me feel like I have been punched in the stomach and have had the wind knocked right out of me. When people make stupid and insensitive comments... that's the worst. These are some of my "favorites" and I promise they have all actually been said to me:

1. You know you already have 5 kids right? 
2. Do you feel guilty? You didn't seem excited about your pregnancy because I never saw you post about it on Facebook.
3. There was probably something really wrong with your baby. You guys already have a lot of medical issues. Just think of all the appointments to Primary Children's Hospital you have saved yourself.
4. You seem sad. Should you be on some type of medication to fix that?
5. At least you have more kids waiting for you in the next life, I don't.

When a friend told me that she is trying to get pregnant I felt as if I had been totally deflated, like when air from a balloon departs in one big gush. It's not that I'm not excited for her, I am. But I think to myself that was me and it didn't work out. I am jealous that this other person is not jaded because nothing has ever gone wrong with trying to conceive, ability to maintain a pregnancy, and her kids are all perfectly healthy. I crave that innocence. I wish I was none the wiser and believed that what I want will happen when I want it to happen.

When I see several neighborhood ladies walking around with thir cute little bellies, I think that should be me. I would have been halfway through my pregnancy now. Halfway to holding my precious baby. As these pregnant women complain about being sick, tired, uncomfortable, or that this is a trial for them because it was a "surprise" pregnancy, I get irritated. I think, do you even know how lucky you are? Do you know there are thousands of women praying for your "trial"? I think that if your biggest challenge to date is a surprise pregnancy at 40, then may everyone in the world be so fortunate.

I still have hCG almost 6 weeks after my D&C. Without getting into all of the details, the bottom line is that my body still thinks it is pregnant. I have been pregnant all year whether with child or hormonally speaking, all year with nothing to show for it. Nothing. My belly had started to round and pop out. Well I guess it still looks that way because someone told me last week that I have a "pregnant belly". Yes, I do and thanks for pointing that out, as if I wasn't already painfully aware of that. Bills have come in for doctor visits, ultrasounds, lab work, and ultimately a surgery that delivered my baby. I am paying for a baby that I never even held. It makes my heart ache.

My arms ache to hold a baby. The other night I woke up in a cold sweat when I swear I heard a baby crying, only to find that obviously there was no baby. We went out to dinner as a family last night. We sat down at a table with 7 chairs and I was telling my husband that we needed 1 more chair so we could all fit around the table. He looked so confused, but I was adamant. And then to my horror I realized I was counting for a family of 8 because I still feel like we have 6 kids. In the deepest level of my subconscious I am still looking for that missing child. As we strolled through a Tulip Festival I saw two ducks walking with their 6 ducklings. I suppose you notice what you want to, but 6 is the number I see everywhere around me.

I don't know what to do going forward. My maternity clothes are packed up and the baby stuff is put away. Do I get rid of it all? I sometimes want to string up the infant car seat and whack it like a pinata. Sadness is real with grief, but so is anger.  When does it get easier? When will my body get the message that there is no baby and get rid of this pregnancy hormone? When will I stop thinking that I have 6 kids when I only have 5?

Thoughts For You

The Classical version of "Baby Mine" is playing on Pandora. Naturally, I think of you. I thought it was time to write down some of my thoughts.

I knew without a doubt there was 1 more child that was supposed to be part of our family. I never was able to get pregnant as quickly as I did with you. I knew that first time we decided to try for another baby that something incredible happened. I knew before I even took a pregnancy test that you were here. When I finally took a pregnancy test, it was immediately positive. Both lines were dark, also a first for me. I happily shouted out to your dad to come and look. I was so excited and so surprised. I felt that this was surely a sign of how meant to be you were for our family.

Given my history, we started prenatal care right away. I had my hCG tested 2 days later and the quant that came back was higher than I had ever had. I tested it again 4 days later and it was an excellent rise. You were a viable pregnancy. I had an early ultrasound done. Everything looked wonderful. I saw the flicker of your heart and your heart rate was 111, perfect for an early pregnancy.

I didn't tell anyone I was pregnant yet. I wanted to tell everyone and now I wish I had. I was happy. But I have lost a pregnancy before and that was so difficult for us. Ok, so I'm totally jaded and ever since that loss I have held back telling anyone about my pregnancies until about the 20th week. I will admit that at the time, I wondered about the timing of all of it. Your brother was going in for heart surgery and I had never been so worried about any of my children like that. I was so stressed as I worried how that would all play out. And for that I am sorry. I wish I could have focused more on you and our short time together. But given the hCG rise and early ultrasound I thought our time would go on. I had no reason to believe I would lose you.

I saw you in another ultrasound 2 days before Liam's surgery. This would be the last time I would see you alive. Your heart was a strong 170 and everything looked perfect. Your growth was right on schedule. Luckily, your dad was there too. He saw you once. We saw you wave. We were so happy. It almost felt too good to be true. How lucky were we to have you. What a strong spirit you had and brought with you. You were a part of our life during the most stressful time and yet you thrived during that time. You were a miracle. You were what kept me as grounded as I could be during that time. You reminded me of all the perfection and goodness in the world.

After Liam's surgery went so well I felt happier than I can ever remember feeling. All of my children were well. Your tiny heart stopped beating around the time Liam went back to school. It was as if as soon as he was fine, it was time for you to leave.

I didn't have any idea you had passed away. This bothers me more than I can tell you. I knew when you were conceived, how could I not know your spirit had left? I don't think I have ever been more devastated than I am now. It has been one thing to lose you, but it has been almost unbearable to have the post-op complications that I have had and what that means for me and our family's future.

I go to sleep crying. Sometimes I wake up crying. I cry during the day. I want to shut myself inside my house from the world. If I could have done something differently to save you, I would have. For every question I find some kind of answer to, 10 more questions arise. I feel like I am drowning in sadness and doubt. I feel like I need something.... but I just don't know what that something is.

I feel like my heart is shattered. I feel like I will never be happy again. I have never wanted anything the way I wanted you. The last night I was pregnant with you, even though you were gone, was still time I was with you. I woke up the day of surgery at 3 am. I went into the bathroom and dropped to my knees and prayed as strongly as I prayed only one time before. I poured my heart out, but it didn't stop any of the pain that just kept coming.

I had already planned out how we would switch around bedrooms. I started buying things for you. I started thinking of names. I would have another baby here this Fall, for all my favorite holidays. I could picture your fuzzy little head. I could smell your sweet new baby scent. I could feel your weight upon my chest as I pictured rocking you at all hours of the night. You were here and you were real. The loss of all the plans I had for you is another loss in itself.

Ashlynne knew you were here. She told me there was a baby in my belly before I even tested. She would put her ear to my belly everyday and talk to you. She said one day that you were being good. Another day she said you were tired. After you left, she knew. One morning about 1 week after my D&C, she crawled into bed with me. It was early morning. I love that early morning light. No one else was awake. She looked at me said that you were still here. I felt like your sister at only 4 had a greater understanding than I did. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I thought of you.

I fear that I will never understand why you couldn't be born and that I will never have the greater perspective of whatever plan is in store for me. I worry that I won't be able to be truly happy again because you should be here. I know that I am not a lot of things and I may not have it all. But I know that I loved you from the instant you were mine and I will never stop loving you. I would have been a good mother because I loved you. I would have done everything if my power to give you all that you needed and wanted. You would have never been put down with  older siblings who would have covered your chubby cheeks in kisses everyday.

I am so sorry that it didn't work out. I wish I knew why. I wish there was something in my control I could have done differently. I will never say goodbye. I don't think I could ever do that. I really hope you  are mine in the eternities. The one hope of 'til we meet again is all I have left.

Heartbeats

There is nothing more comforting than the sound of a heartbeat.

Liam finally had his heart surgery in March. We planned for the worst case scenario, but ended up with the best case scenario. It was truly miraculous. It only took about 5 hours. As soon as the 6 catheters were placed in his heart he went into atrial fibrillation all on his own, no medication to stimulate SVT was needed. He went into SVT in the lower 2 chambers, but not into ventricular fibrillation, so they never had to shock him. The extra electrical pathway was in the left ventricular side. This is exactly what we had hoped and prayed for, it was the most treatable location. They would be able to burn the pathway which is more effective than freezing. They could not access the pathway via his PFO, so the surgeon had to make an additional hole in his heart. This hole that was made inside the heart would not cause Liam any pain, as there are no nerve endings in the heart. After the 2 surgeons burned the pathway they injected medication into his heart and could not get Liam to go into SVT which meant that there was only 1 extra pathway and they had shut it down. They did an echo immediately and saw fluid around his heart, which could have been a result of the surgery, but we later found out that night with a second echo cardiogram that the fluid had not increased, so it was likely already there and unrelated to his surgery.

The surgeon met with us in an office and showed us a printout of Liam's heart. This picture showed us exactly where the catheters were placed and where the pathway was located. We learned that his extra electrical pathway was seriously dangerous with how quickly it was conducting electricity. We had waited just long enough for Liam's heart to be big enough for the surgery, but had done the surgery just in time.

When I saw Liam in PACU the first thing I looked at was the monitor. His heart rate was 108 bpm. A completely normal heart rate for the first time ever. I will never take a heart rate for granted again. He did extremely well post-op. He was admitted as an inpatient. He had to lay completely flat and still post-op for 6 hours and he did it with no complaints or tears. He had an EKG after his echo that night. His surgeon came in to speak with us. We compared that night's EKG results with his previous ones and were astounded. His Delta wave was totally normal and completely flat. His PR interval had slowed way down. I feel like with so may surgeries you don't necessarily see immediate, measurable, or readable results. We saw test results that proved his surgery was a success.

Liam was able to come home the following day. He was sore and stiff and tired but only cried when his pressure bandages were removed. He slept a lot over the weekend. He will take aspirin for a few months. He will see his surgeon in May. If the pathway were to reopen, it would most likely happen within the first 2 months post-op. So after he undergoes some tests in May, we will know more. If those test results come back normal he will follow-up with his surgeon every year for the rest of his life.

I have noticed the color is back in his face, He was so pale and the circles beneath his eyes were so dark. He has started eating more and gaining weight. He gets up around 7:30 am instead of 11:00 am. His energy level is up and he is able to be more active and keep up with kids. He feels good and is happy. I felt that I witnessed a miracle. His heart has been repaired and he does not have a pacemaker. Only time will tell, but I have a really good feeling that he will have an amazing and full life.

I was pregnant during this time. I had seen my little baby 3 times through ultrasounds. I actually saw my baby 2 days before Liam's surgery and all was well, a heart rate strong at 170 bpm. I knew there was another little one that was meant to be part of our family. I knew before I even tested that I was pregnant. I kept the pregnancy to myself, as I have experienced pregnancy loss before. I was nearing the end of the first trimester and felt confident that I should soon let everyone know, but decided to wait until Liam's surgery was over and he was recovered and back at school.

When I went in for my next appointment I had no reason to believe that anything was wrong. My OB could not find the heartbeat with the Doppler, I wasn't worried, that happens. She did a bedside ultrasound and I knew immediately. You could just tell that little spirit had left its body. There was no hand waving this time. I saw the OB try to play and measure the heartbeat only to see a flat line on the screen. She measured its body and it had stopped growing 5 days prior to my appointment. How could I know when this little life was created, but not know when its spirit had departed? I had to meet with my Perinatologist to confirm its death and then again with my OB to form a plan. I had a D&C first thing the next morning. It is such a stark feeling to wake up from a D&C not with child when I was the hour before. After receiving Pitocin and contracting for a good hour post-op, I was recovered in the wing with all the new moms and their newborns. I just wanted to sleep and wake up somewhere else.

My week post-op was extremely rough physically and emotionally. I have cried everyday. I fall asleep crying and I sometimes even wake up crying. I had just experienced a miracle with Liam's heart, why oh why couldn't I have this miracle too? Why did that little heart just stop beating? I have been sad, irrational, and quite frankly mad. I knew this baby was supposed to be here, why couldn't it stay? What kind of plan is this? I have so many questions that I will never have answers to.

The only thing I can make heads or tails of at this time, is that this little one hung on until Liam was recovered and went back to school. As soon as he was ok, I mean that very day, this little one passed away. I am thankful for this one tender mercy, I could not have been the support that I was and as strong as I was for Liam if I had lost this baby beforehand.

I remember the night of Liam's surgery day. Once he was settled, I went down to the cafeteria with my mom to get something to eat. As I sat at the table I was truly, truly happy. For a moment all was perfect in my world. My kids were all ok and healthy. I paused to give thanks. Little did I know then, that could not last. I have come to appreciate the small fleeting moments of perfection.

....But what I would not give to hear that baby's heart rate one more time going strong while relishing the fact that Liam's was normal, slower and steady. Heartbeats are my favorite sound.

Wash, Rinse, Repeat

The other day I was tackling laundry. It never ends. And seriously, where do all those missing socks go? Every now and again it hits me how monotonous it can get being a stay-at-home mom. I wash the same clothes and dishes, clean the same rooms, and prepare the same meals over and over. 

I think the Winter months in Utah are particularly hard. When it's too cold, icy, or it's snowing; you're often stuck indoors. So days will pass when I don't talk to anyone besides my kids and my husband. Sometimes by the end of the day when we get everything done and the kids in bed David and I are just so tired that we crash for the night.

I miss the days when we were newly married. We lived in apartment, easy and fast to clean. We didn't have to worry about home maintenance. I only did laundry once a week. We had 1 or 2 small children with no school schedules or extra curricular activities to keep track of. If you wanted to go to St. George in the middle of the week and David had vacation, we could totally be spontaneous and just get in the car and go. We had 1 cell phone that we didn't really use. We didn't text, we didn't Facebook, or Instagram. Truthfully, there was a time we didn't even have a computer, so we hardly emailed. To some degree life was easier.

I miss the simplicity of that special time. I felt present in the moments. I didn't worry as much. I actually talked to friends more. I was more carefree. I wouldn't change the course my life took. I am grateful for each of my children. I just wish that simplicity could have continued forever.

The First Mistake

As a parent you find yourself saying things that you never imagined you could possibly say. You also hear things that you could never have imagined in your wildest dreams.

There is also something about getting in the shower when you have young children. You think you have kids settled down for naps, quiet time, play time, or maybe a movie. That moment when you first step in the steamy shower is so heavenly. You take a big breath. Finally a moment to yourself. And as quickly as you had that thought, something always happens. The baby wakes up, the phone starts ringing, 2 or more kids start fighting. In my case, it's often all of those things. All too often before you have even rinsed the shampoo out of your hair, someone is inevitably in the bathroom. You knew they were coming you heard all that screaming along with thudding footsteps running up the stairs. The heavenly shower is officially over and you scramble to get out quickly. If I'm lucky, I will be in my robe before someone bursts through the bathroom door.

Today was no exception. I heard 3 kids running up the stairs with tales of woe "He did..." and "She did..." and "MOM!!!!" I shouted that I would be out of the bathroom in just a minute. So as soon as I emerged, I asked what in the world had happened in the last few minutes. My oldest daughter was the first to try and explain. "Well, we were playing Hunger Games...". I told her that I was going to have to stop her right there. Clearly I had recognized my first mistake, I let the older 2 read the first 2 books and watch the first 2 movies. I mentally face palmed myself.

Letting It Go

We went to church today. Aidan went up to sing with the Primary for the last time during Christmas. He is so tall and grown up. Where did all the time go? He is so ready to turn 12 and move into Young Men's. I remember the first time we brought him to church was the Sunday before Christmas in 2003. He had an apnea monitor for 6 months after the NICU because he would just randomly stop breathing. We had made it into the foyer with Aidan for the first time when his monitor alarmed. When the alarm went off it sounded just like a smoke alarm. It was so loud. We never made it into the chapel, but we did get him breathing again, and we had attempted to attend church. So fast forward 11 years later and I am amazed how strong and healthy he is. Aidan is by far my healthiest child now. He is such a deep and critical thinker, smart, kind, and funny. I could not have ever imagined in 2003, when he was born after he coded 20 minutes after birth, how well he would one day be. No matter how much time goes by he will always remain a toddler in my mind. He had chubby hands that always grabbed my face and covered my cheeks in kisses. 

As a parent we look forward to firsts and mile markers so eagerly, that we rarely realize when something happens for the last time. All too soon they gain self sufficiency. One less child to bathe, one less child who needs a bed time story, and 2 less feet underfoot. I think it is harder to let them go little by little to make their choices and find their path then it is to have a little one in constant need. Sometimes you can see what will happen form a choice they make and you have to let them find out for themselves.

When I was a younger and newer parent I was such a stickler for routines and structure. I tried to keep nap times, bedtimes, meal times, bath time, and even play time to their exact times. I felt like I had complete control over how the day would go if I kept to the schedule. The more parenting experience I have gained the more I have realized that I don't have any control. The children we have come with their own unique personalities. They come with their individual needs and trials. 

Today I sang Christmas songs for hymns at church with my little Liam curled up beside me. Tears fell. I have a constant prayer in my heart, pleading really, that he will be ok. Between my fervent pleas over his health and the words of the songs I love so much, I felt as if my heart would burst open.  I don't really have control over much. I think the hardest realization for me has been that I just have to let it go. I do the best that I can and send those prayers up, and whatever is to be will be.

I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore

You win some, you lose some. Today kicked my trash. If only I had 3 phones. I was fighting with my health insurance on my cell phone and a hospital on my landline. Go ahead and deny claims before Christmas, Blue Cross, that's exactly what I hoped would happen.

We're having issues with Liam's monitor. Apparently the night shift people are less than stellar and cannot perform basic trouble shooting. He's 6 and could die suddenly, that's cool, no worries. I'll just call back in the morning and talk to someone different.

I don't know what it is about Christmas. I totally feel the Spirit and see the good, but at the same time everything is going wrong. I feel happy and cry tears of gratitude. I feel angry and I cry out of frustration. This month has been filled with the highest of highs and lowest of lows. I feel like I am taking crazy pills sometimes.


There is so much to do and I feel like I am struggling to keep afloat doing the things that have to be done. I haven't baked a single cookie. I don't have stocking stuffers. I only ordered Christmas presents off of Amazon on Tuesday,so all of that just arrived and needs to be wrapped. Never mind all the menu planning, grocery shopping, and cooking. I don't do Elf on the Shelf. My kids remind me of this everyday. I don't have time for that, but I wish that I did. I could rock that.

We took our kids out to the zoo on Monday night for Christmas lights. It was really cold. My baby hasn't been the same since. He is fevering and sick. His breathing sounds tight and his famous bark is louder. With his trachea being compressed by his innominate artery, when he gets an upper respiratory infection, he has to be hospitalized. I can't spend time in the hospital with a sick baby. That could very well be my snapping point.

My son told me that he would prefer to "hitch a ride home with Brother ***** because his car is all leather and cool and only has 4 seats". He drives a Mercedes or BMW, I can't remember which. That did it for me. I could no longer keep the tears at bay. I just can't fight this feeling anymore.... I forgot what I started fighting for....

So tomorrow will be a new day. We'll see what it brings. I have several Diet Cokes chilling in the fridge. I plan on downing 2 of them before 10 am.

Take Time to Enjoy the View

I admit that I am a hoarder of sorts. I hoard pictures. I take pictures all the time. I don't even like erasing my memory cards, just in case something goes wrong with our computers. I haven't printed pictures as often as I should and thought of printing 10,000 pictures or doing some kind of kind of digital scrapbook overwhelms me. So I have a lot of memory cards.

But I take pictures almost daily of something because they help me. Everyday I find something that I am grateful for, that I think is cute, that I think is funny, or whatever the reason du jour may be. When I take a picture it makes me pause from whatever else is going around me. It makes me really notice my kids and the world around me. I stop and think to myself things like: I'm lucky, I'm blessed, I'm happy. When I do this, time freezes if only for a few seconds, and I realize what life is all about. (Right now the words to the song, "In My Daughter's Eyes" are going through my mind.) And those pictures I take by the dozens and hold on to get me through the tough times. Those pictures are fleeting moments of perfection where time stood still and I paid attention.

It's interesting how many of us post pictures on social media sites of only our best moments, but I get it. There's a story in between each of those pictures that plays out which many don't know of or see. Those best moments I post in pictures are what gets me through all of the trials. I remember when I look through all those pictures..... it won't always be this way for good or for bad, so take a moment and remember everyday that there is always something to appreciate.

Special Delivery

I got home yesterday evening after a long doctor's appointment with my 6 year old, Liam. His heart is too small to safely do the surgery he so desperately needs. Crazy, right? They can do open heart surgery on a newborn and yet the procedure he needs to have done is too risky for his heart size. We need more time. It's such a gamble. Do the procedure too soon, you risk death. And everyday that we wait we risk sudden death.

I do not sleep well at night anymore. Last night I took half  of a sleeping pill and still sleep eluded me. I have a permanent migraine. I cannot turn off the anxiety, the questions, the worry. I feel like if we do it too soon, it will be my fault. If we wait too long, it will be my fault. This of course is not true. But, I have to have control of things to make me feel sane and normal. And this one... is in God's hands. I can scarcely handle that this is what it is. I have no control. All I can do is take care of my son and pray. And then pray some more.

To buy us some time he will be wearing an event monitor 24 hours a day for the next month. This is legit, it comes with a cell phone so the monitoring company and doctor can reach us at all times. The Cardiologist let me know we will be talking a lot. Then we will start Liam on a beta blocker twice a day to slow his AV Node. Hopefully all of this will let his little heart grow so this amazing surgeon can get in there and fix it.

As I pulled into my garage last night, UPS pulled up. The man came into my garage and handed me our special little package. All of Liam's heart monitoring equipment. Sometimes the reality and weight of this situation comes crashing down on me like a ton of bricks.

When I was younger I loved amusement parks and their super fast, twisting, turning, dropping, upside down thriller rides. I hate them now. I feel like my reality gives me that sinking, dropping feeling in the pit of my stomach everyday. My life is a roller coaster with its ups and downs, twists and turns. I don't need a roller coaster for the thrill anymore. Just living gives me that. I remind myself every day that I wake up that life isn't just to be endured; it is to be enjoyed. Some days I find it easier to enjoy than others. But I always thank my Heavenly Father for allowing me the gift of the ride.

Christmas Perhaps Means a Little Bit More

Last Friday we took our kids up to Temple Square. It was the first night of their Christmas lights. It was a cool night, but not cold. We have been really lucky this December, so far no snow or ice or really freezing temperatures. I have probably jinxed myself by saying that now. It was very crowded. They opened the gates around the temple. I have never seen the gates open around the temple for visitors other than wedding party guests. We took the path less traveled that night and steered away from the reflecting pond and walked right up to the temple. My kids could actually go up to the big wooden doors and touch the beautiful brass handles. I told them to touch the cool, hard granite exterior. I told them how amazing it was that the exterior's stone was carved and bought down from the mountains. I can't even fully comprehend the 44 years it took to build the Salt Lake Temple, more than my lifetime thus far. How many hands had worked so hard to build this wonderful temple? And here my 5 children were with their hands touching this sacred building. As my 9 year old daughter, Seery, stood at the top of the steps to one of the great wooden doors with her hand firmly wrapped around its brass doorknob..... I was overcome with emotion. Never had I felt more strongly the words come alive from one of my favorite primary songs, "I love to see the temple, I'll go inside someday." She will, they all will. My children could feel the Spirit. I could feel the Spirit. I felt happy. I felt time stand still for just a moment. This was a perfect moment.

As we were leaving the temple's grounds we stopped at the crosswalk. I began counting my kids. It is a habit that I cannot quit, especially when we are in crowded areas. My heart stopped as I noticed that Aidan was not right there with us. Thankfully, he came running to my side before I could even say anything to David. I asked him where he had been. He didn't say anything at first, but as David walked across the street towards City Creek with the other 4 kids, we had a few precious minutes to ourselves. I kept asking questions. Aidan finally told me what happened. On our way in to see the lights he noticed a few homeless people. There was one man in particular that stood out to him. Aidan decided that he would think about this man and his needs as he walked through Temple Square. On his way out, he felt he knew just what he should do. Aidan had $2 to his name, that just so happened to be in his pocket. He gave this man his money on his way out, in the hopes that he would be able to buy himself dinner at a place like McDonald's, since they have a $1 menu. I began to tear up as I listened, which of course my son noticed. He told me he did it because he felt he should; it was the right thing to do. He said that he wasn't going to say anything to me because he didn't want anyone to know about it. Well, at this I actually cried. My son noticed a person, perceived their needs, and gave away all the money in his possession in the hopes that it would help and bring comfort without wanting any sort of worldly recognition. It was in this moment that I remembered what Christmas is all about. It was in this moment I snapped out of whatever pity party I had let myself wallow in for too many days. My son reminded me that there is good everywhere. Love abounds. Filling other people's buckets with light is where joy is to be found. If we didn't know sorrow and pain, then we wouldn't know utter joy and true love. My trials have taught me how to be flexible, how to stretch and how to grow. My kids are turning into thoughtful and kind people who seek out ways to serve. I am unsure how far the ripple of effect will be from Aidan's gift to a man he has never met, but I hope the man felt love. Children really are so simple, pure, and trusting. They see people as they really are, as the Savior would see them. I know I felt the Spirit testify to me in that moment talking with my oldest son, that God lives and He loves each and every one of us. If I could have one wish, then it would be for everyone to feel of His love and know that they are of infinite worth. If we all could see ourselves through His eyes, through a child's eyes, I know this world would be a better place.

"Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!” 

― Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas!