Concerns

Thank you all for your love and concern for me. Yesterday was probably the hardest day for me since the day after we found Camille. I really appreciate all your comments. I want to address some of your concerns for me.

First, the "burden" of the blog -- This blog is not a burden to me. I look at it as therapy/homework. I started the blog intending to write nearly everyday. The audience keeps me true to that. I like to write. 

Many who know me personally have asked me when my blog will stop focusing on my grief. My answer is, when I don't need it to anymore. Writing about my feelings makes me feel better. This has always been true for me. I have had some really good days in the last two months where I have written about things other than Camille and my grief. But I will keep writing about those subjects too as long as I need to get them out. I don't know how long that will be. I think it will be a gradual thing where the posts not about Camille become more frequent. We will see.

Second, as to my mental state :) I am doing much better today. I know the difference between sorrow/grief and depression. Most days I feel varying degrees of waves of sorrow. Some days I am not hit by any of these waves. Some days I am battered by these waves all day. Most days are somewhere in the middle with a wave or two a day and I am fine. 

Yesterday was a whole different animal. Yesterday I was depressed. But the source of my stress was not the burden of the grief alone. Bearing this grief is like carrying a weight around with you. It is incredibly heavy. It is never taken away. We are just made stronger to carry it easier, sometimes even without noticing. I still feel the weight of this burden. But it doesn't usually overwhelm me. 

Occasionally, big huge stressful things happen in life. You know the ones I am talking about -- illness, job loss, money problems, marital problems, family relationship problems, fight with a friend, etc. These happen all the time to lots of people and they just cause a lot of stress. Yesterday, I had a similar type of stressful situation with which to deal. It would have stressed me out and gotten me down under normal circumstances. But with the burden of grief already weighing on me, well it was just almost more than I could bear. That separate stress resolved itself favorably yesterday afternoon. Thank the Lord.

Here I have to say thank you to my mother and father. Their prayers for me gave me the strength I needed to pull myself up off the floor and carry on. Also a thanks to Mrs. Gallant whose heart boxes got painted yesterday by the girls and me. These little wooden boxes are so stylish now. And a thank you to my mother in law both for her continual prayers and for buying Hello Dolly and letting us watch it. Nothing can brighten a bleak day like singing and dancing to Hello Dolly.

As for the comment of the person who disagreed with the quote. Depression does not equal defeat. I am grateful I do not regularly have to battle with depression. I know so many people do. No, defeat is giving up the battle and letting the depression win. Defeat is physical or spiritual suicide. We must fight on with no talk of defeat. We must press forward steadfastly clinging to the hope we want to have when we can not see the Hope we need. Queen Victoria knew that depression can lead to defeat in battle. She would not let it win. 

Depression is a tool of the Adversary. I know many suffer with it everyday. I am all for doing whatever in necessary to pull free of it. The Lord wants us to have joy in this life. I don't begin to purport to understand what it is like to live with that everyday. For those of you who do--fight it and may the Lord bless you with success in your battle.

To those worried about me giving myself a break and taking time to let myself grieve. I am doing that as much as a mother can. My kids don't want a mopey crying all the time mom. They make me happy and I try to stay happy around them. I also take time for myself when I need it to just let it all out.

Lastly, I am creating a private blog for parents of little children who have died. Every person invited will be invited as an author. We will all be able to post our feelings to the other moms and dads and get support though comments. It is just different talking to those who really KNOW exactly what this feels like. I have found emailing some of these other moms very helpful. I am not including miscarriages and stillborn children parents in this blog. This is not to say those losses are less significant in any way. I just think it is the experience is a little different and I am limited on how many authors I can add on the blog. If there is great interest among those who have lost children in utero, let me know and I create a separate blog for that. I could be on that blog too. :)

If you would like to be involved in this separate private blog and have lost a young child, email me.

Loves to you all and Thank the Lord for a happier day today.

Feeling the Weight of the World

Sometimes it feels like there is an elephant on top of me-literally. Today is one of those days. I have been fighting depression today. It is a difficult fight when I feel so beaten. I think one of the hardest things about this most difficult trial is the living part. 

Normal life is full of daily stresses. There are bills to pay, appointments to make, work to be done, children to worry about, money to be made, relationships to navigate... The list could go on for pages. Some of these stresses are hard to bear under normal circumstances. We have all felt stressed out about some of these things at some point.

I remember the night before taking the bar exam how stressed I was. I couldn't sleep or eat. I could feel the stress oozing out of every pore of my body. It was the most stressed I had ever been in my life. It was just a test, but it stressed me out like nothing before that had. I wasn't nearly as stressed about it once I got in and started taking it. Once I saw the questions I realized it really was just another test. 

It is hard for me to hold onto that perspective now, with this incredibly long and daunting test in front of me. It is hard to remember that in the end, this is just a test. Life is just a test. When we tally the score, it will make no difference what kind of house you had, how much money you earned, how many degrees you had, how many tests you passed. What will matter is whether we became more like Christ or not. Did we use our talents to help us become more like Christ? 

There are two things I have been telling myself today.

The first is that at the end of the day, I am still breathing. My kids and husband still love me. I still have my faith. All these trials are but the fast track to becoming what I am destined to become.

The second is a quote by Queen Victoria. I think I need to plaster this quote on my bedroom ceiling so it will be the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see before going to bed. I also think I need to learn more about Queen Victoria. I am seeing she was quite a leader in my gooogle search of her. She had some fabulous quotes. Can anyone recommend a good biography on her? One that won't put me to sleep? In any case, in the darkest week of the South African war she uttered the following. A roommate gave me a copy of it long years ago; 

"Please understand that there is no depression in this house; we are not interested in the possibilities of defeat; they do not exist."

Amen Queen Victoria. Amen.

The Comforter

I relate the following true story today because I need to hear it. I need to remember it. I need to be comforted in its message.  It is an experience I had years ago that taught me a valuable lesson. 

Also, yes you can use any of the stuff I put on my blog for your personal use. The stories, feel free to print them out and read them to your kids, or tell them to your kids. Any parts may be used for lessons or sent to friends or linked to or quoted in your blogs. 

I am all for sharing the love and the lessons. There is only one thing I ask no one to do. Please do not take anything off this blog and publish it to be distributed for profit. Other than that, you can feel free to use it as you please.  Thanks. Now on to the story.

The Comforter

In January of 2000, I was pregnant expecting my first child. I was about 10 weeks pregnant when I started cramping and bleeding. After a week of this, I was resting and watching a movie one Saturday night with my husband. The bleeding kept getting worse. By 10 p.m. that night, I was in so much pain and was bleeding so heavily that I was close to fainting. My husband took me to the ER.

At the ER, we were told to sit and wait. Long Beach Memorial has its fair share of gun shot wounds and other more serious emergencies to address. After a few minutes, I was bleeding through my clothes and not able to sit upright without feeling faint. 

I started to lay down on the floor in the waiting room. The nurse at the desk saw me and told me they had a gurney in the hall that I could lay on while I waited. I appreciated this and took her up on the offer. My husband held me up and walked me to the gurney. 

After about 20 more minutes, I was wheeled into a room for an exam. During the exam, the doctor noted I wasn't breathing very well. I have asthma and it gets worse when I am pregnant. He prescribed a breathing treatment, and told me to do it while I waited for an ultrasound.

One thing I hate about asthma treatments is how they affect my nervous system. They make me jittery. My regular inhaler does this a little bit. I had never had a breathing treatment before, but I would learn that night that their effect is 100 times that of my inhaler. After the treatment, I could breath. That was good. But, the side effects set in and my whole body started to shake uncontrollably. 

They did an ultrasound next. By the time the doctor came back to talk to us after the ultrasound it was close to 2 a.m. He told us my OBGYN was on his way. I had an ectopic pregnancy (it was stuck in my fallopian tube.) And I would have to have emergency surgery to remove the pregnancy before it destroyed my fallopian tube.

I had never even had stitches before. I had never been to the ER. I had never broken a bone. Now here I was going into emergency surgery? This was all a very new experience for me. 

We signed all the forms and headed off to the operating room. Operating rooms are cold. I think they keep them purposely cold to help prevent bacteria from growing or something. But they are cold. I had to lay down naked on a cold steel operating table in this very cold room while they prepped me for surgery. I had to stretch my arms out wide so they could also lay on cold steel.

I was already shaking uncontrollably from the asthma medication. This cold room, cold table, and lack of clothing did not help. I was now shivering and shaking. My teeth were chattering audibly and I could do nothing to stop them. 

The anesthesiologist started giving me the drugs to put me out. Then just before I lost consciousness, the nurse by my head came over and brought some blankets. She laid them on my arms and across my chest. They were so warm. They felt like they had just come out of an oven. My body immediately felt warmer and my shivering ceased. It was still cold and I was still shaky but these blankets felt like they were ... heaven sent.

I looked up at the nurse and the the last thing I remember was saying to her, "Thank you so much. I know I don't know you but right now, I LOVE YOU!" Her laughter in response was the last thing I remember before slipping into unconsciousness. 

We all have to go through cold rooms in life. Some are colder and more complicated than others. But they are just a part of life. They are uncomfortable, they can be very painful, they can cause us great anxiety. We cannot avoid all the cold, uncomfortable, pain inducing rooms of life. God will not keep us from them. He will not take the cold out of the room. The cold is essential for our health and safety.

However, we do have the assurance of the Holy Ghost to be the warm blankets to cover us in those cold rooms of trial. If we live worthy of this most scared gift, we will always have the peace that only the Comforter can bring. He is the warm blanket to comfort us in the cold rooms of our lives.

I am thankful for the gift of the Holy Ghost. When all else around me seems to be tumbling down I cling to the peace he brings to pull me through another day. May we all feel the warmth of the comforters peace today.

*As a side note, the doctors were wrong and this wasn't really an ectopic pregnancy. It was a miscarriage. I had a D and C two days later.

Story Time - Stellilalagoogoos I

Those who have read ALL my posts, even those before the accident, may have noticed my story back there in May I think. One of the cool things I have wanted to do with this blog was record some original bedtime stories I have told my girls so that I could publish them later. Then someday when I am a grandma, my kids will have a book of bedtime stories their mother made up to read to their own children.

I think I might be ready to write a post that is not about grief. So, here is a story (one in a series) I made up on the fly the other day to entertain Lauren and my two nieces Charlotte and Stella in the car.  

Lauren and her cousin Charlotte (Charby Goo Goos) with their dolls.

These two are little Mamas.

Stellilalagoogoos 

and the Purple Flower Juice

Once upon a time there was a little fairy named Stelli-LaLa-GooGoos. She was about this tall (show about 2 inches) and she lived in a magical forest in a little house with her mother. Throughout the forrest there were beautiful flowers of all different colors. The fairies in the forrest loved to drink the juice from the flowers. 

Our cousin, Stella Ann Harris

Everyday, Stellilalagoogoos went out exploring in the forrest. She took her best straw with her to drink flower juice. One day she was out exploring and she saw a beautiful purple flower. It was the most beautiful purple flower she had ever seen. So, she decided to have a drink. She got her straw (hold up a fist) and she stuck it down into the middle of the flower (slam your fist against the open palm of your other hand). And then she started to suck up some juice (put your lips to the top of the fist and make sucking noises). 

As she drank and drank, she started to feel funny. Then she noticed the flower was getting smaller and smaller. She looked around and saw that everything looked smaller. She looked at her feet and realized that had grown. She was now as big as you! (point to the kid being told the story). 

Stellilalagoogoos was scared. She did not like being big. Where would she live? She was bigger than her whole house. How would her mother give her hugs? Her mother's arms wouldn't even fit around her ankle. Something had to be done.

Stellilalagoogoos decided to go visit the giants in Gianormoville to see if they could help her become little again. It didn't take long to get to Gianormoville. She walked there in just 10 minutes. Once she got there, she asked the giants, who were not much bigger than her now, how she could get small again. Everyone she asked said, "I don't know. Why would you want to be small. I love being big." 

Stellilalagoogoos did not like being big. She wanted to be little and grow up to be just like her Mama. Stellilalagoogoos decided to find some small people to ask. She went to the land of Miniville where everyone was even smaller than fairies. It only took her 20 minutes to walk to Miniville. 

The people of Miniville heard Stellilalagoogoos coming from far away. Her footsteps were so big they shook the whole town. They were scared. They thought they might get stepped on. They all ran in their houses. They would not come out to even talk to Stellilalagoogoos. 

Now Stellilalagoogoos was even more sad and she was very tired from all this walking. She didn't want to be scary. She didn't want to be big. She wanted one thing more than anything. She wanted her Mama.

Stellilalagoogoos was afraid her mother would be upset with her for growing so big. But she really needed her Mama and she knew her Mama would always love her no matter how big she got. So, Stellilalagoogoos went home.

When Mama saw Stellilalagoogoos she started to giggle. She flew up to Stellilalagoogoos face and gave her a tiny little kiss on her great big cheek. Then she flew over to Stellilalagoogoos ear and said, "I see you found the most beautiful purple flower in the forest."

Stellilalagoogoos couldn't believe her mother knew about the flower. "How did you know?" she asked.

"When I was a little fairy, I found the same flower and I grew just as big as you are now," her mother told her.

"But you aren't still big like this," Stellilalagoogoos said. "How did you get back to fairy size?"

Stellilalagoogoos' mother told her it was time for bed. They would talk about it in the morning. Mama led Stellilalagoogoos to the back yard where there was a clearing in the forrest. Stellilalagoogoos laid on the ground. Mama made many many trips to the house and the neighbors and brought hundreds of blankets and put them all over Stellilalagoogoos till she was all covered up and she quickly fell asleep.

Lauren and Stella putting their babies to sleep.

When Stellilalagoogoos woke up it was very dark. She felt lots of heavy stuff on top of her. She started to throw things off of her. Finally she saw the light of day. She discovered she had been under all the blankets. They were everywhere. They seemed huge on her. She was little again! 

Stellilalagoogoos was so happy. She ran in the house to find her mother. Mama had breakfast on the table waiting for her. 

"Mama! Look! I am your little fairy again!" cried Stellilalagoogoos.

"So you are," replied Mama.

"How did you do it?" asked Stellilalagoogoos

"The purple peony is a magical flower. It's juice makes you grow 100 times your size." said Mama. "But it only lasts until you have a good nights sleep. Sleeping makes the juice lose its power. Just remember you can always come to your Mama with any problem or question you ever have. I will always love you, bit or small, no matter what. But I am happy you are my little fairy again so I can hold and squeeze you."

"Yes Mama," said Stellilalagoogoos. "I am glad to be little again too."

The End

Stella and Lauren playing house in the backyard.

A Lesson in Patience

I have always felt like it is easier to learn life's lessons vicariously. I have tried to learn from the experiences of others so that I could live to maximize the good and minimize the pain. This theory has helped me avoid many unnecessary pitfalls and inspired me to glean pearls of truth out of the experiences of others. 

But some lessons we, apparently, must learn through first hand experience. Those lessons learned first hand are the most deeply engrained. For me this most personal and very real "investment" in celestial kingdom has been a lesson in patience. Patience as I wait the rest of my life to hug and kiss and raise my sweet baby girl. Patience with myself as I grieve. Patience with my children as I train them to become women of grace, strength, endurance and ... patience. 

I am glad to hear in your comments that you have found a bit more patience in you when dealing with your children. I want to share this lesson with everyone as much as I can without anyone else having to learn this first hand. So, in an effort to do this, may I write a bit more on the patience I have found in dealing with my children.

In my post entitled "Angry?" I mentioned that my kids were some of the few who were able to anger or frustrate me. That is true. I think it is more often a feeling of frustration than pure anger. We all know how that feels when we have asked a kid to do something for the 5th time and they still aren't doing it. Then we remind them we should only have to ask them once. And they still aren't doing it. Then you have to get up and go help them do it. It is tedious. It is tiring. It is all part of parenting.

Before the accident, I let these tiring, tedious things get under my skin and fester.  By the end of the day the woman I liked to call "Mean Mama" would come out and everybody better be in their beds or watch out.

My home has changed since then. This is for me the best single change born from this tragedy. 

Here I am blogging. Lauren is by my side hatching a plan. 

All photos by Sabrina Waite age 7

From the time the police finally let me go to the hospital after all their interviews until two days later when the coroner came for Camille's body, I did not go home. I was either at the hospital or my sister's house. I was scared to go home--scared to walk in these doors without her here. 

Then my twin brothers gave a duet of blessings-one to Camille by Darren and one to me from Stephen. Darren was the first brother to arrive and he immediately gave Camille a blessing with Jonathan. It was a beautiful blessing, profound in fact. There was one part of it where he told her there was no fear in love. 

Later after his twin brother Stephen arrived, Stephen gave me a blessing. He said something very similar about there being no fear in love. This opened my heart to feel all the love around me and let go of the fear. I knew I would be alright going home because my home was filled with love, and that was not scary.

Shortly after arriving home, when tempers would flair among my kids, I would quickly sit them down and explain how important it was that there be only love in our home. I explained that now that Camille was an angel, she could only be where there was lots of love. I needed her to be in our home, I told them. So we must be only loving with each other.

I drilled this into them as much as I could. Generally, they have been better lately. But they are still kids. There is still discipline to be done and training to do. Sometimes this training includes a bit of "righteous indignation" to get the point across. But there is never anger anymore. Not from me. Not in my home.

The greatest factor for me in being able to be patient with them when they are being disobedient now is remembering who they really are. I remember the way I saw Lauren, through Camille's eyes. I felt humbled to be her mother. I wish so much that I could let each reader see their own children this way for even but a moment. 

Lauren is getting ready to strike. She is going to "get" her Mama's attention.

You have to understand, Lauren was 2. VERY 2. She was becoming aggressive and demanding. She was at that age where I felt at my wits end everyday. To see her that way of all the kids-- it just made me revamp my whole parenting style. I want to be a mirror to them of who they are and how they should act because of who they are. 

Before she can strike, I "get" Lauren.

I treat them with more gentleness, more respect, and far more patience. Patience has never been my forte. But somehow, knowing I will have to wait like 50 years or so to see Camille--well it kinda redefines the limits of my patience.

 

I am not sure I can really share this lesson I have learned in a way that will allow you all to benefit from it. But maybe Camille can. I hope next time you are getting frustrated with your kids, she will remind you of who they are and give all you mom's out there a little extra dose of patience.

Lauren "gets" me.

Life After Death

Camille Kathleen Waite 6 days before she drowned.

I am a firm believer in life after death. 

When the energy of our spirits leave our mortal bodies, we do not cease to exist. I know this because every bit of my being tells me this is Truth. I know this because, at times, I can feel my daughter's presence right next to me, though her body is miles away decaying in a coffin. 

Some Truths are so vital for our happiness here on Earth that our loving Heavenly Father seems to have implanted in our souls a detector to recognize them when we are presented with them.

This detector lets us know when we are reading, hearing, speaking, thinking or feeling Truth. It gives us a warm peaceful sure feeling as we ponder Truths. 

In the last two months, I have been presented with many versions of what life after death is like. In sifting through all this information, I have come to know some great Truths. The Truths about life after death that I have come to know are closely tied to other Truths previously established in my belief system. I have listed these foundational Truths below.

Some Foundational Truths I know for sure:

God lives.

Jesus Christ is His Son.

We are all the spirit children of God. 

God loves us as a Father.

God wants us His children to know of Him.

God loves us in this age as much as he loved his children in the times of the Bible

God speaks to prophets like Moses and Noah to teach His children more about Him.

After the death of Jesus Christ the apostles were killed.

In 1820, in answer to a young boy's prayer, God and Jesus Christ appeared.

This young boy, Joseph Smith, grew up and became a great prophet.

He had many, many revelations to help him restore Christ's original church on the earth.

God and Jesus Christ speak to a prophet today.

I came to know these foundational Truths because I have followed the counsel in James 1:5, just as Joseph did. I have asked God in faith and that detector of truth, the Holy Ghost, has witnessed to my spirit that these things are indeed true. 

Now on to the Truths I have found about life after death.

Many of the prophet Joseph Smith's visions dealt with life after death. The truths he taught about what happens to us after we die resonate with truth throughout my entire being. He taught that families can be sealed together by the same power to bind in heaven what is bound on Earth that the Savior gave to Peter. See Matt 16:19. So while earthly marriages are until death do we part, the Lord wants us to be married by one who holds that divine sealing power that transcends the bonds of death and binds you to your spouse through the eternities. When a couple is sealed together by that divine binding power of God, their children are also bound to them in the eternities. Those family relationships go with us beyond the grave.

I know now more than ever that heaven -- life after death -- is all about family. It is enjoying perfected versions of the familial relationships we had here on earth. It is about remembering our place in the great family of our God.

We all have the ability to follow that invitation in James 1:5 and ask God, who giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not. We all can find our own answers to our own questions. We can learn what a dream meant or if we can be with our family forever. All we need to do is seek to find answers, gather information, and ask which answer is Truth. God loves us. He will let us know.

My knowledge of these Truths, given to me through personal witnesses of the Spirit, gives me peace. In this peace there is, for me, a way to enjoy my life after her death.  My life after her death revolves around one thing--Family.

I am a firm believer in life after death.

Sabrina took this photo of Lauren and I today

Sweet Dream

Yesterday marked 8 weeks since this nightmare began. Last night, tired from little sleep and feeling the crushing weight of the reality of my life, I went to sleep early. I slept long and hard and in my sleep I had a dream. 

I was in my mother's bedroom talking to one of my girls. Behind her on the bed was Camille. She was just a little older than she was when she died-- maybe the age she would have been about now. She was beautiful. She was so alive. She was so aware. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. 

She was talking but I don't remember what she was saying. In my dream, I knew she had died. My other daughter to whom I was speaking was unaware of her presence. My conversation with the other daughter continued, but I can't tell you which daughter it was or what we talked about because my entire focus was on my sweet, living, beautiful baby girl behind her. How I wanted to go to her- to hold her and squeeze her and feel her wiggle in my arms again. But, even in the dream, I knew I couldn't.

I worried that she would disappear, but then I was told, I am not sure by whom, that she would always be there. She would always be that real, that much a part of our home. We just wouldn't be able to touch her or talk directly with her. But she would be talking, watching, and living in her own way right along with us. It was a powerful feeling.

We were interrupted by a doctor, but not just any doctor. It was the Chief Medical Officer at the hospital where Camille was born and where, 14 months later and one floor higher, she died. In real life, he had come to visit us the Sunday morning before Camille died. I had never met him before, but he knew my father and he was recently made our Stake President (a church leader over about 8-12 congregations). 

Back in the dream, Dr./President Jones came in to tell me the autopsy results were something I should see.  I followed him into the living room and he showed me Camille's skeleton. He showed me a hole in one of the bones on her leg. (In real life my sister in law Nikki's dad recently found out he has a form of cancer that causes holes in your bones.) 

I asked the Dr./Pres. Jones in my dream if that was evidence of cancer. He said it was. He told me she had very early signs of a very aggressive and painful cancer, nothing we would have been able to detect yet, but that would have been fatal. He told me her drowning was really a blessing because it saved her from feeling so much pain.

The next thing I remember was waking to Lauren tugging on my ear and telling me she wanted me to go downstairs with her to turn on Little Bear and give her a "jelly sandwich." (This kid is addicted to Uncrustables).

As soon as I got Lauren set up, I came to write this. It is so fresh in my mind and I don't want to forget it. I know Camille probably didn't have early signs of cancer in real life, but the message of the dream was real. If it hadn't been this, it would have been something else and maybe something more painful. 

And though I don't get to see Camille here in our home, lighting up the background to every conversation, I got her message. She is always near -- smiling, talking, watching, living. 

Angry?

The last comment I read was the following:

Bless you for being an example. I know that "suffering is part of the human experience" and I know that I too will face trials that may bring the same kind of unimaginable heartache that you've experienced....I fear that I'll be angry with God. I hope that I'm strong enough to see His Plan. Do you every feel angry?

God's Blessings to you!

Ann in Missouri 

Thank you for the question Ann. I would like to respond to this publicly. 

As a senior in high school I remember a seminary lesson we had on anger. I think we were discussing Jesus in the New Testament and his righteous indignation. I don't remember the whole lesson. I just remember my teacher Bro. Strobelt asserting that we can choose whether we get angry or not. Being the head strong opinionated know it all I was (and sometimes still am), I took him to task on this assertion.

"You can choose how you feel! You can't control your emotions," I said. "Emotions just come to you and they are natural and there is nothing wrong with feeling a certain way." I never took a psych class but I would guess they would teach something like this in more eloquent and academic terms.

He stood his ground firmly. "You can control how you feel. You can master your own emotions and tame the natural man," he said. He then gave the example of how if someone does something mean to you, you have a choice. You can choose to feel hurt or you can choose to feel angry. Most people don't like feeling the hurt. Given the choice most humans choose anger because it is easier than the hurt. But you can choose to feel hurt instead and the anger will leave if you make that choice.

That was his basic argument, if not his exact words (it has been some years since then.) I was still doubtful about his theory. Nonetheless, I pondered his assertion and decided to try his theory out. Over the next few years I thought of this lesson each time I felt angry. Time after time, I found that really I was hurt and letting anger take over so I wouldn't have to feel the hurt. I made a conscious effort to let myself feel the hurt instead of the anger. Amazingly, it worked--almost without fail. I really can't remember the last time I was really angry. (Okay maybe I can -- my kids can get me angry or at least frustrated, or at least they used to be able to before -- that is a subject for another post)

Now to answer the question of the comment. I know anger is one of the five steps of grief and it is very common for people to feel angry. I am not saying that it is wrong to feel that emotion as a part of grief. But I think all these years of practicing being hurt rather than angry have helped me skip over that part of the grief process. 

In short, No. I have never for a moment felt angry at anyone. Not anyone in my family, not Camille, not the situation, and certainly not at God. I had a moment the first night after the accident when Camille was in the hospital where I felt a fierce fighting feeling. I was praying with a fierceness I never had before, willing with my whole soul that she would be made well. But I wouldn't call that feeling anger. 

My life has been so blessed. Even taking this trial into account I am so incredibly in the debt of the Lord. I know where I stand before the Lord so there is no anger in my heart. 

I think of Mary, the mother of the Savior. She was so young when she was told she was going to have a child. This news rocked her world and put the whole of her future happiness in jeopardy. This was a great blessing wrapped in a terrifying trial. My situation is not much different in that aspect. There are great blessings in the midst of this incredibly painful trial. 

Even as early as my time in the hospital with Camille before we knew whether or not Camille would live, I felt to echo the wise words of mother-to-be Mary, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word." Luke 1:38

The Scoop behind the Scoop

In honor of the 200,000 hit, 100,000 unique visitors, and 50,000 returning visitors, I want to share the real story of why I started this blog.

Let us go back in time (Oh if only I really could). It is mid April 2008. I am in a serious funk. You know those times in motherhood where you feel like your life is just one dirty diaper after another? Yeah. Don't get me wrong. I loved and appreciated my kids. Truly my cup was running over with joy in them, most especially the littlest who was too young to ever do anything naughty. I loved being a full time mother too. I just felt ... unidimensional? 

I am not sure I can describe exactly how I felt now any better than I could then. I can tell you that I have always been happiest when I have been very busy with lots of deadlines to meet. I work well under pressure and I work best when my plate is very full. If I only took 12 credits (4 classes) in a college semester, I would procrastinate studying and probably do very poorly. But if I took 18 credits (6-7 classes), I would get all As and Bs and be happier being busy.

Putting that type of personality into being a full time mom has been challenging for me, especially when I wanted by principle to avoid taking any job on me that would take away from my time with my kids.

I have always known I would have a career besides motherhood at some point. I even knew what I wanted to do with my life. The planner that I am, I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. (The foreign ambassador to the Bahamas.) I love politics. I want to do something political with my career ... someday.

But I have lots of unrelated interests. I like to cook and bake. I love to write. I love traveling. I have always avoided doing anything with these interests because they did not contribute to my end goal -- politics. I didn't open an ice cream store because I didn't want to be a ice cream shop owner. That wasn't what I wanted to be when I grew up. I didn't want to be a baker or a writer or a business person.

Still I felt like I needed something more in my life. I started adding classes to my kids schedule and signed up to start taking pilates. I was seeking things to fill my schedule that were compatible with motherhood.

Then one morning in late April I woke up at 5 am and couldn't go back to sleep. I am not a morning person. This was highly unusually for me. I got in the bathtub to help myself fall back asleep and get a little more rest before the kids woke up at 8. 

As I sat there in the bath, I thought about my life. I thought about who I was in high school. I sang and danced and golfed and played the piano and was in numerous clubs. No one who knew me now would guess I did any of those things. I was a totally different person then. 

Next I thought of my life in college and my 20s. I was focused on school and politics and public relations and journalism and law school and criminal law. No one who knew me then knew about my high school interests. I was a different person in my 20s than I had been in my teens.

Last, I thought about my life now. I am the mother of four girls. That is where I stopped. I didn't have all these varied facets to my life as I had in the past. I was a totally different person now than in my 20s or my teens. 

Then I had what was to me a revelation. 

Insert angels singing and light streaming down from heaven. 

I could be more than one thing in my life. I didn't have to pick one thing to be when I grew up. I could be a different person every decade if I wanted to. I could be a lawyer in my 20s, something else in my 30s, another thing in my 40s and then go into politics in my 50s and be the ambassador to the Bahamas in my 60s. :)

Instantly I knew I needed to decide what I wanted to be in my 30s other than a mother. I had to be something that wouldn't take time away from my kids. I love writing. I needed to document my life better. That would contribute to my mothering, not take away from it. I could do it at night when the kids were in bed. It fit. My 30s would be my writing years. 

Until this point I had been anti blog. I was uncomfortable having so much information about myself out on the net. I had started a private blog before but found that few people check a private blog. I needed an audience to serve as my "deadline." 

In this revelatory moment, I just knew I needed to get over my fears and start a blog, an open to the public blog. I needed to practice my writing and try to do it everyday if I could. Then maybe, when my writing skills were sharpened, I would write a children's book or do some freelance journalism work.

That week, I set up and started www.adailyscoop.blogspot.com.

I had no idea then how grateful I would be for following that divine direction. Not only has this blog been a life line for me personally, but I have a few precious entries with and about Camille in the last 7 weeks of her life. I never dreamed, even after Camille's accident, that so many people would come and read what I wrote. I am still astonished at that. 

I was grateful to the Lord for this revelation then. It took me out of my funk. I am even more grateful for it now. It was one of many preparatory pillars the Lord, in His mercy, put in place to hold my life up when the hurricane of heartache would hit. I cling to those pillars now as treasures.  They stand as evidence of the Lord's love for me and His foreknowledge of this twist in the plot of my life.  

News bits

• It is the last week of SYTYCD. Tonight is the last night to watch the performances and vote. There will be the usual party at my house. 8:30 p.m. Treats to be served.

• Tomorrow is the finale. The winner will be announced. Usually we don't gather for results shows... BUT the finale is when they bring back all the best dances from the season. Soooo, there will be a finale party at my house again at 8:30. We will have treats and there will be some sort of game to play along with the show.  Call me if you want to add to the party in some way. I know Cat is bringing fruit pizza. It is going to be the Best Show of the season so we need to make it the best party of the season.  :) By the way for all those wondering ... Joshua. He is my pick to win and who I will vote for. I wanted the top four to be Katee, Chelsie, Josh and Will. If it had been I would probably have voted for Will or Chelsie. But... we all know how well that plan worked out.

• In other news, I have to throw a shout out of thank you to my ding dong ditcher on Monday. WOW. My kids think you ROCK and so do I. :) Thanks so much.

• And the other question I have often been asked -- Will I write a book?  At the very least I will publish this blog as a book on blurb and make it available to the public that way. I would love to write a book. I love to write. If only getting published were as easy as writing. If any of you know a publisher who is interested, you can send them my way. ;)

• Another item of note - I am now making public my email address for those wanting to communicate more privately than commenting. My email address can be found on my profile page.

• Lastly, I want to thank all of you for your comments. I appreciate all of them. I have yet to be put off by or offended by any comment on my blog or to my face. Many of them make me smile, laugh, cry, feel loved, or just give me good fodder for a much needed post. Normally, I consider myself fairly unoffendable. I have rather thick skin and can debate many otherwise taboo subjects without letting emotion get in the way. Right now, I am not really my normal self. A large part of me is raw and vulnerable. I share most of that sensitive area with all of you on the blog. I appreciate all of you who have been so lovingly protective of me because you know this. Thank you to all my commenters for being gentle and loving in your comments. To those readers who don't agree with me or my views, thank you for remaining silent on such matters.

Camille's Latest Message

The curtain behind the casket is where we buried Camille.

We buried Camille indoors in a mausoleum. We wanted to have our own graves next to hers. We wanted to be comfortable when we visited her grave, not hurried because we were baking in the Vegas heat. It is quiet inside and air-conditioned. It is peaceful.

Last Sunday we went to visit Camille's grave. This was our second visit since the funeral. The only marker for her grave still looks like this:

I look forward to the day they get her marker put up with her picture on it and a vase we the girls can put treasures in for her. 

So, last Sunday we were at the mausoleum sitting on a couch there facing Camille's grave. The mood was thick and peaceful. I turned to Sabrina and out of curiosity asked her if she had heard any more messages from Camille. (She has, in the past 7 weeks, relayed to me some simple truths she has heard Camille whisper to her mind and heart.) 

"No, nothing." she said. Then about 30 seconds later she turned back to me and said, "Oh wait. I just got one."

I smiled at how promptly this prompting came to her. Convenient.

"What did she say?" I asked.

She looked at me with a face that held no guile and replied simply "Have Fun."

Sabrina then started a game of chase with her sisters and they spent the next 20 minutes running around the mausoleum, laughing, screaming in delight and playing.  They had fun.

As I watched them, I thought to myself how real that prompting must have been. I could feel Camille there watching her sisters in their play. Watching them just as she did as the littlest among them. Watching with delight in her eyes, cheered by their cheer, giggling at their giggles, wanting so much to really be able to join in the fun. 

I have no doubt this simple directive was indeed straight from our littlest lady. May we all follow this counsel today, especially with the little ones in our lives. "Have Fun."

Inadequate Response

Today I want to respond to the anonymous first comment on yesterday's post. For those who don't read the comments, I have quoted it below:

"Stephanie usually when I read your blog I feel as others do - spiritually uplifted and motivated to become better. You are a great example to all of us and I'm sure so many of us have learned to love you even though we do not know you.

 

"Today though I am feeling a little inadequate and I wonder how I can ever achieve the spirituality you have achieved. I have a testimony the same as you do, but as I compare my life to yours I see all the things I'm not doing, and I wonder if I can ever catch up. You have experienced a terrible loss, and yet you seem to be such a pillar of strength and fortitude. How can I learn to be as diligent in my spiritual development, so when I feel I am losing "it" I can find the peace you have found?"

This comment raised an issue that has been a growing concern for me personally with this blog. It also touched a sensitive nerve for me that I want to address.

First let me address my concern. I think I need to throw a bit of reality into this honest, yet edited blog. As my husband noted in his comment, I am far from perfect. I just don't blog about my faults. That doesn't lift me up and right now I need to write things that uplift me. 

I choose to work on my weaknesses privately. I do not beat myself up for them. I am humbled by them. I am grateful for the humility they give me. I work on them. But honestly, I am sure that there are many I just will not overcome in this life. 

I keep working and trying to improve but I trust that Christ will make up for my deficiencies if I give my heart and will to Him. I repent everyday and pray for help to do better and I trust in the power of the Atonement. It is the only hope any of us have of achieving the perfection necessary to be in the presence of our Father.

As for being a pillar of strength and fortitude--Yes, sometimes I feel as strong as a rock. It is strength beyond my own. When I feel like this I go out in public. I call friends. I write strong feeling posts. 

But there are other times when I feel more like a puddle of tears than a pillar of strength. Last Friday was a day like that. Just before writing my post that day I had spent nearly an hour in my bed huddled in the fetal position in gut wretching sobs feeling completely incapable of dealing with life and wishing I could crawl under a rock and disappear. It wasn't pretty. 

My husband laid by my side trying to cheer me up and comfort me. He worried about what happened to make me so sad. What had triggered this? There is no trigger. Sometimes the dam just overflows when a single drop of worry or stress is added to the lake of my life.

I am not always strong. But I always manage to remember where to turn for strength. And even in my weakest, lowest moments I know I have at least 3 very beautiful wonderful reasons for pulling myself up out of that bed and going through the motions of living until my heart feels alive again.

Okay now for the sensitive nerve: Inadequacy. 

Warning: Soap box magically appears. 

I know how many women there are out there who feel unnecessarily inadequate. It is time we all realize that this is a tool of the adversary to depress our spirits and dim the light of our true Divine Nature.

When we approach the judgement bar of God, He is not going to judge us as compared to our sister or brother. 

Remember the parable of the talents? We are all given different kinds and numbers of talents. It is totally unimportant how many or which talents we are given. What is important is how we use and improve upon those talents. 

As one of the commenters responded -- It is not as important where you are in your spiritual progression as which way you are headed. Life is about becoming like the Savior. We must only look at our life and ask ourselves, "Am I living my life to become more like Christ?" If the answer is "no," we must repent and work to turn around and head in a more direct route to becoming like Christ. If the answer is "yes, but i feel I will never get there," then we pray for hope through the atonement.  

There is an epidemic lack of self esteem in so many women, young and old, in our day. Woman was the Father's ultimate, most complex, and beautiful creation. We ought to better appreciate the work on His hands. Can you even imagine the power for good the women of the world could be if they all had a perfect understanding of their true Divine Nature?

I know the Lord loves us even more than I love my own children. He knows us far more intimately. He wants us to feel that love and know how precious we are to Him. He wants us to do our very best to live the commandments and become more like Him. 

If we are not living the way we should, we need to let those feelings of guilt work in us to motivate change and a new resolve to be new creatures. If we are trying our best, we need to accept that our weaknesses give us essential humility and know that our offering of a broken heart and contrite spirit is acceptable before the Lord. Jesus Christ's atonement will make up for us what we lack.

The Lord is the only true source of self esteem. When we know the Lord accepts us and is happy with our offering, the world's, our peer's and our own assessments of ourselves are unimportant.

I pray that we all can seek to align our lives with the Lord enough to feel his acceptance of our offering.  In that acceptance comes the peace that prevails through the horrors life can throw at us.