Europe

Me and Jason went to Europe back in May and I wanted to post some pictures, but my thoughts seemed to drift another way after we got back.  Here are some pictures from Bruge, Belgium (my favorite place).  We could hear the church bells ringing as we walked down the cobblestone road eating Belgium waffles.  Yes, it was amazing.  There are waterways that boats travel on and we even took a little ride.  Brugge is sometimes called the Venice of the north because of their canal system.  Our whole visit was so picturesque.

                   

This is called the church of the lady (not to be confused with the church of OUR lady which is in Denmark).  We were confused because we thought we would see the Christus here and instead we saw the Madonna (which is still pretty cool, but seemed like a let down....)

We discovered that all of the water was warm in Europe. I don't think they believe in ice.  Even we got bottled water it wasn't very cold (but it looked pretty so I was okay with it).

This was our waiter at a little restaurant in Bruge.  I took his picture because I wanted to remember him.  Everyone in Belgium speaks either French of Finnish.  He spoke French and couldn't seem understand my request for a WAFFLE.  I JUST WANTED A WAFFLE....  I thought it would translate. He acted exactly as I would have imagine a French waiter acting (although I don't know where the idea I had was conjured up).  He didn't make eye contact and was all about getting the job done as fast as possible.  At first,  I just thought everyone was rude, but after awhile, I realize that it was just their culture. It was like they didn't have time for courtesy. We felt like a lot of people in Bruge were kind of irritated by tourists; which I found pretty funny because it is such a touristy place.  They were especially annoyed when we pulled out our VISA.  Almost everywhere accepted VISA, but they did not want to take it and showed open annoyance at us for trying to pay this way.  

                       

We bought some of these little candies because they looked so interesting.  I can't remember what they were called.  They are basically a hard sugary shell with liquid sugar inside.  I didn't love them, but they were fun to try.

This was waffle #3.  The famous liege waffles.  The entire trip was worth it for just a bite of this.  It doesn't look like much, but trust me when I tell you that it is probably the best thing I have ever eaten.  We went to a place called Bruge waffles and Frites in Provo a few weeks after we came home.  They CLAIM to use the same ingredients and are able to duplicate a waffle made in Bruge.  Not so.  The place was good, and we wanted it to be the same, but it just wasn't.  The sauces were especially different.  They must use higher quality ingredients.  

These are some picture from Copenhagen, Denmark.  We went to the temple.  It was closed the day we were there, so we were only able to see the outside.  It was kind of interesting because it was in the middle of some apartment buildings; kind of hidden away.  I am so used to seeing huge temples with a large area for the grounds.  This was definitely not like that; much smaller and tucked away in the city.  It was beautiful.

This is a castle we went to.  It was really great (for the first hour or two).  Our tour guide was very passionate about the history or her country and we saw more artifacts and heard more information about Denmark than most of the people living there having probably seen and heard.  Fun for awhile, but we were ready to move on.

The highlight of Denmark was going to the church of our lady that holds the original Christus statue.  I read an interesting article about the statue here: The Christus Legacy

I'm not sure if this picture needs a caption at all.  It doesn't matter that you can't read what the breads are called.  Pointing to what you want works just fine.  I had something called a Pain Au Chocolat.  It is basically a croissant with two big sticks of chocolate running through it.  Yes, that's right.  It was out of this world. The croissants and bread were so much different than I have ever tasted (and I used to work at a bakery).  It must go back to the ingredients.  I should mention, in light of this picture, that no one in Europe was obese.  I'm sure there are some obese people there, but we didn't see anyone who was.  Look at all these breads?  How is that possible?  I am going back to the ingredients...we have been duped in America.  (And it doesn't hurt that everyone seems to ride their bike there).

Here are some pictures of Norway.  I loved this huge door because it had a number 5 on it (and the number 5 is kind of big deal if you didn't know).

We went a Viking museum.  It was interesting....not my favorite.  It seemed like a lot of things we saw dealt with life and death.  They bury people at Stonehenge.  Some of the churches had a crypt underneath because they buried certain people beneath churches (which actually makes sense to me now.  It wouldn't have made any sense before).  The ships that were found had the remains and many "burial gifts" which they had on display.  It was all intriguing, but I was a little done with all of the "burial practices" by the time we got to Norway.  One too many reminders of burying people.  It's a little different when you are thinking about your own child and not some old person that lived hundreds of years ago.

The fjords as we left Norway were beautiful.  I didn't even know what a fjord was?

Here are some pictures of the grounds of a castle.  It was so beautiful.  

Here are some random pictures of different things we saw as we walked around.

First day of school

I am a little behind on blogging.  Katelyn and Ethan started school last week.  Katelyn is in 5th grade and Ethan in 2nd.  I was grateful, so grateful, that Lincoln has another year at home before he starts kindergarten.  That would have been a disaster.  Me and Jason considered waiting another year before getting pregnant with Eli.  I'm happy we didn't for so many reasons, but Lincoln's age is one of them.  I need to have him home right now.   If we had waited to get pregnant, everything would have moved forward a year (in theory) and my arms would be even emptier as I said goodbye to Lincoln at school.  It would have been much too abrupt to have all of my kids in school.

I have to say that I enjoyed the summer for a short time...tolerated it for a time...and was anxious for school to start near the end.  I feel like summer is just too long and my kids need more frequent breaks instead of one LONG 3 month break.

I enjoyed doing new things with them at the beginning of the summer, but my energy was pretty much gone by the end of July.  My kids ALL have a lot of energy and no one here has a docile temperament.  Lincoln was docile once...it was when he was really sick.  Most of the time he is one big circle story like those If You Give a Mouse a Cookie books.  He goes in and out of the house constantly and I am always trying to figure out where he is.  He can make a mess more efficiently than any of my other kids have been able to do.  He keeps me hopping when it is just me and him.  Katelyn spends a lot of her time doing gymnastics routines all over the furniture kicking things and people she shouldn't even though she has been told a million times that she is "not allowed to do gymnastics in the house."  I tell her to clean up her breakfast or practice the piano and instead she walks into the front room and starts doing a cartwheel?  Ethan spends a lot of time telling Lincoln all of the rules he isn't following and protecting his precious Pokemon cards.  I hear a lot of  "Lincoln....STOP!" from his mouth. I love all of my kids, but that much intensity mixed with too much energy and not enough structure was too much for me when my emotions are still a little wild and my energy not up to par.

Anyways, I was looking forward to school starting because I feel like I haven't had a quiet moment in months.  I craved the structure and I think they did too (even if they didn't know it).  Me and Lincoln walked them to school the first few days.  Every year it feels a little strange.  As happy as I was to get some quiet, I was torn.  It felt very weird to just leave them at school.  It's not like I haven't done this before, but the feelings were the same as they have been in years past....maybe a little amplified.  And coupled with the fact that I have said goodbye to another child leaves me feeling unsettled when I say a goodbye like this, even though I am told that they will come home after school.  It's pretty likely that they will, but sometimes your kids don't come home even though they are supposed to.  After they have left and come back several times, I start to feel better.  Maybe its because I trust that they will come back after watching it play out.

When me and Lincoln came home on the first day, it was sooooo quiet.  So quiet.  It was welcome, but unfamiliar after the summer of noise and chaos (even though a lot of it was good noise).  I didn't realize how much noise had been present.

I guess my point is that as excited as I was for school to start, it is always a little hard for me to just leave my kids somewhere and trust that their needs will be met.  I worry that the other kids won't be nice or they won't eat enough for lunch and be hungry or they will be too afraid to ask their teacher for help if they need something or they will forget to take their coat out to recess and on and on.  Katelyn recently told me that I was "overprotective" after I wanted to know the EXACT location of her friend's house.  Overprotective?  You bet Katelyn.  That wasn't an overprotective move, but she was right and I told her she could define my behavior any way she wanted to, but it wasn't going to change anything.  I would probably be pretty interested in her friends and their houses and their parents and their siblings in the future and she was just going to have to deal with it.  I know I can't protect my kids from everything, but I do my best to make sure their needs are met and they are safe.

Lincoln really wanted his picture taken too.  Love him.

The dead tree

Here it is again.  I am talking about that dead tree.

We went to the firework show on the 4th of July.  There was a large section of grass that was vacant and looked like a good spot to sit.  There were some in our group who thought that one of the big trees would get in our way of the view.  Others (including me) insisted that the fireworks would be much higher and we would be able to see fine.

As the fireworks started I found that some of the fireworks were well above the tree, but many were below and I didn't have a great vantage point.  Although they were bright, the tree was still blocking a full view of it.  I kept thinking: "That stupid tree.  I didn't think it would be in the way." I was sure the fireworks would be higher and I wouldn't even notice the tree there.  I found myself looking at the tree instead of the fireworks; not the entire time, but for a little while.  Because it was dark outside and I could only see the silouette of the tree, it looked dead.  It would have looked green in the sunlight, but the darkness made it appear dead.

This dead tree being in the way of the fireworks paralleled a thought that has evolved in my mind over the last year.

At first, I thought "this" won't "get in the way" of my "normal" life.  (lost of quotes there....)  All of those quotations marks have changed dramatically for me over the last year.  I didn't want "this" meaning the grief, pain, sorrow, yearning, awfulness, etc, to overshadow and put a damper on my life.  I wanted to tie it up in a pretty box with a perfect little bow and put it on a shelf.  I would look at it, but it wouldn't "bother" me forever.  It would be a reminder of something beautiful and fulfilling.  I think I clung to this false idea because I felt like I was given a life sentence with Eli's diagnosis and I was trying to run away from it.  I knew that he was going to die and I would enter a new world that scared me (and scarred me) and I didn't want to do it.  I heard things like "grief never ends" and "it never gets better."  By the way, only one of those statements in true.  The other is a definitely not.  But, either way, I was scared because the life I had lived and the life I was planning to live in the future didn't include death and cemeteries and unfinished business and a whole slew of other things that were not appealing.  I felt I was willing to pass through the fire only if the burning stopped to my liking and if I could go back to my previous life.  That is like saying I don't mind if you cut my arm off, but I don't want it to bleed a lot or hurt too much.....oh, and you have to give it back when you are done....and I would prefer no scar....thank you.  That's not how it works.

When I think of the dead tree I think of my grief.  I didn't want it to get in the way of the beauty of my current life.  I thought it would.  I was willing to give it space and time, but not too much space and not too much time and certainly not in a place where it would block my view of the fireworks!  When this journey began a year ago, I thought it wouldn't "get in the way."  Not after awhile anyways.  I thought I would be baking Christmas cookies and spending time with my family...snuggling and kissing my children and living in gratitude for all the God had given me.  That's not exactly what happened last Christmas.  I couldn't believe how big the tree was.  I couldn't believe how it blocked everything. I was angry and surprised and confused and wondered how I would live my life with such a dead tree looming in front of everything else I wanted to see.

But, the tree isn't really dead.  It just looks that way in the dark.  The tree causes pain but is also a teacher.  It causes longing, put also patience.  It feels heavy, but also shades you from so many distratctions in the world.  It makes you find places in your soul (good and bad), you didn' t know existed.  The tree is a reminder of the pain and also the growth, and it certainly isn't dead.  Dead things don't grow the way the tree has helped me grow.  Dead things do not give life.  And this tree has given me life.  Not the life I thought I would have.  Not the life I thought would be best.  But the life God always intended for me and for Eli.  Eli was not a deviation in my path.  He is my path.  It is not a taker of my happiness, but rather an expander of all things good and beautiful.  Painful, yes; difficult, yes; unbearable at times, yes, but never evil; never bad, and certainly never in the way.

Inner light

"Sometimes in the deepest darkness there is no external light-only an inner light to guide and to reassure."

Brightness of Hope-Neal A Maxwell

Is it really that bad?

There are times when you anticipate doing something scary or nerve racking, only to find out that it wasn't nearly as bad as you thought it would be.  There is some relief after it is over because you realize you totally hyped up about something that wasn't THAT bad.  

There are other times when what you have to do IS as bad as you imagined....or worse.

Smarty pants

Ethan made this card for Eli.  He is pretty insightful

cemetery thoughts from the kids

A few days ago we drove to the cemetery as a family.  I felt like each of the things my kids said to me  made a lot of sense:

Lincoln:  "I hate the cemetery.  I don't want to go.  It is frustrating and makes me mad."

My commentary:  I have never hear him use the word frustrating before.  I don't think he fully grasps what it means, but he must have heard it in a negative connotation and felt it fitting.  He says "hate" a lot more than I would like him to; not sure where he picked up that word because I don't feel like it is said a great deal in our house.... anyways.  He says he "hates" a lot of things that he doesn't really hate (like breakfast time and sunbeams), so I don't take him too seriously.  He has been in a strange mood that last couple of days and this verbiage isn't totally unlike him.

As he said those words I totally related to him.  "I hate the cemetery."  I hate that I have to be there.  I hate that this is part of my new life.  I hate it.  I hate that month markers are not enjoyed by a new milestone such as sitting up or crawling or a new tooth.  I hate that we know that another month has passed, not by watching Eli grow, but by watching how many hard water stains we can see on Eli's decorations by his grave.

"I don't want to go."  I hear you Lincoln .  I don't want this to be part of my life.  I want tiny shoes and chubby hands to hold onto instead of the balloons I take to him each month.

"It is frustrating."  Yes, it is frustrating Lincoln.  It is frustrating that your little brother is in a casket in the ground and you don't even understand what that means.  It is frustrating to feel stuck in grief at times.  It is frustrating to feel like the only place I can buy something for Eli is in the lawn and garden area because you don't exactly go to the baby area to get "decorations" for a grave.  It is frustrating to want something so badly and have not way to assuage that feeling.  It is frustrating to watch everyone's life go on except yours.  It is frustrating to have a righteous desire feel so painful when it is not realized.  It is frustrating to not have life work out like you had hoped.  It is frustrating that I have to wait to hold him again.  It is frustrating that my thoughts are so wrapped up in the only child I can't take care of when my other children need more from me.  I agree with Lincoln.  It is frustrating.

"...and makes me mad!" It makes me mad too, Lincoln.  Sometimes very, very, very mad.

Katelyn:  "I don't know why we come to the cemetery.  It's not like he's here."

My commentary:  It is pretty normal for Katelyn to have argumentative comments like this.  I think it is how she deals with her emotions.  I think her heart is tender, but she covers it up with anger and apathy at times.  This is a pretty normal comment from her.

I have felt that at times.  "Why am I here?  He's not here."  But he is there sometimes and the spirit is always there.  It is sacred, dedicated ground.  We don't dedicate that many places; our temples, our homes.... graves. It, quite literally, is holy ground. I talked with her about this.

Ethan: (I saved his comment for last because he is the most soothing and on target).  I asked him if he liked coming to the cemetery.  This is important to me because I don't want to drag my kids there if it isn't helpful or beneficial to them.  So far, I think our monthly visits as a family are a good thing for all of us.  He said, "I like being here because it makes me feel calm; except for when Lincoln is here..."

My commentary: Really sweet and unfiltered.  I mostly readily agree with Ethan.  I go to the cemetery because it is a calm place.  Ethan senses that.  Not everyone does.

Sometimes I have asked myself why I go?  I have had thoughts about how he isn't really there...it's just his body.  I recently had a conversation with a grandpa of another baby that is buried near Eli.  He said that he didn't feel like his grandchild was there...it was just a place for his body.  I thought about his matter-of-fact comment as we talked.  I thought to myself," Then, why are you here?"  I think he felt something.  Even if it wasn't the presence of his grandchild. something drew him to that tiny grave.  He drove in his car and got out and walked over there.  You wouldn't do that if some feeling weren't drawing you there; if you didn't feel something.  Or if you weren't trying to feel something.

Here's to driving to the cemetery as a family; the thing you never thought you would do.  We don't usually work that location into our life plan.

9 months and unexpected reminders

It has been awhile since I have written.  I find that I need not just quiet, but stillness, to formulate my thoughts into words.  I would not describe my home as a place of "stillness" most of my waking hours.  Why don't we do year round school anymore?

As I pondered about the fact that it has been 9 months since Eli was born, my mind immediately went to what "9 months" usually conjures up.  I now stand at a place in time where Eli has been gone as long as he was here.  It has been 9 months since he was born.  I think back to my pregnancy and can scarcely believe that it was really 9 months long.  I think about the 9 months that have passed since he died and I can scarcely believe it has only been 9 months.  It doesn't ever seem like we are quite content with how time passes.  It moves either too slowly or too quickly.

A very strange thing happened to me today.  I have had some problems with my shoulder since December.  I probably got a little too excited during a few too many workouts; go figure. Whenever I have a problem with a certain muscle or joint I wait it out because "time heals everything," right?  If the problem persists, I call my brother Tyler, because he conveniently became a physical therapist, so I can have all my questions answered.  I called him and did what he said,  (It was probably hard for him to totally evaluate the problem over the phone).   My wait it out and see followed by a phone call to Tyler has always worked in the past.  Well, here we are 8 months later and nothing has gotten better, so he told me to go see a physical therapist in person.  I couldn't go to him because he lives 14 hours away.  How inconvenient.  But it just so happens that my cousin, Justin, is becoming a physical therapist as well and works at a physical therapy office.  He said I could bring my kids with me and he would entertain him.  He knows them pretty well and he still said I could bring them....I'm not sure he knew what he was getting into.  They are not calm, sitting down kind of kids....like EVER!  Especially Lincoln.  I can't even get him to sit down at meals.  So, off we all went to the appointment.

I had to put on a hospital gown for part of the assessment.  I thought to myself, "You must be joking.  I'm not putting that on."  The last time I wore a hospital gown was EXACTLY 9 months ago.  EXACTLY.  I couldn't look at the gown the same way.  It didn't seem like an inanimate object anymore.  There was too much wrapped up on a little piece of scratchy fabric.  I remembered my thoughts from the hospital.  I had such a hard time putting the gown on when we checked in to deliver Eli.  I knew that once I took it off again my life would never be the same.  And the strangest thing is that last time I put a gown on, I had to take off my Team G shirt.  I was wearing my Team G shirt today as well (because it is the 5th).  I'm pretty sure all hospital gowns are made out of the exact same fabric.

I told the physical therapist that the last time I wore a gown like this I had delivered a baby.  He laughed; not sure why that would be funny no matter what the outcome, but maybe it was a nervous laugh like "why are you telling me this?"  He said how nice that was.  I had to break the news at some point in the conversation that my baby had died.  I wasn't feeling like an emotional wreck today which is the only reason I could put that gown on in the first place, so I was able to say it (probably a little too matter-of-factly).  He stopped laughing.

At the end of the appointment Lincoln needed to use the bathroom.  He is OBSESSED with public restrooms.  LOVES THEM!  I will tell you more about that another time.  We went in the bathroom and I washed my hands and realized that the sink in this bathroom (which is an intermountain facility) was the same sinks they have at the hospital (also an intermountain facility).  You might think it's funny that I remember the sinks, but I did work at the hospital for five years and had plenty of potty breaks in that time.  The faucets have a certain feel.  And the soap is the same.  Yep, exactly the same smell.

It felt really odd to put on the hospital gown that I wore 9 months ago...who knows...maybe it was the same one.  They all go to the central laundry.  Then I washed my hands in that same sink with the same soap.  That was a lot of senses to stimulate and a lot of unexpected things to be reminded of.  

But besides all of that----- the appointment was just fine.  Who knew I would have such an adventure at physical therapy?