Patrick 4 years old!

I love my son.  He is turning 4 on Saturday and I cannot believe how much he has grown.  We are getting him a violin. He is so interested in learning and wants to play any instrument as if it were a violin.  I hope he is excited to see it and to have his police officer birthday party.

Falling fast

When an airplane looses momentum it starts to slow down. The jets Lester their speed and the plane drifts slowly to the ground. Not me. I'm crashing.

Dad

Dad passed away on Friday October 21st at 5:49 am. Harder thing to watch. We were all there and staying up all night to say goodbye. Funeral was beautiful though.

Back on track

I'm so glad not many people read this. :) I have been seriously mad at God for quite some time now because of so many reasons. Pay's horrible ending and death, infertility and losing all hope to create a child with the man I love, bipolar depression, sore body, elderly father with Parkinson's, church doctrine verses LDS culture, the lack of love in people, losing friends or having non, and a job that I love but one where I see the tough reality of beautiful children's messed up lives. 

I don't get why things happen or why they don't. I've been so focused on trying to make sense of the why that slowly I stopped praying, listening to, and believing in a loving God. The scriptures say that even the elite will be deceived. In no way am I an elite, but I do want to keep my testimony. So for the past year I have been fighting to hold on while doubting absolutely everything. The only reason I didn't stop trying to believe is because of my son and the blessings I have received from Jeff. Every time he gives me a blessing it becomes so personal. This last time I feel like it has actually healed me. 

Two Sunday's ago I came home in bad shape. Though I teach a Sunday school class and do a pretty good job doing it,relief society would always set me off. Sacrament meant nothing to me and  many times I would have to fake my belief in the doctrine I was teaching. I didn't lie, but I didn't know if I believed it. I kept going because I'm a huge proponent of faking until you make it. Plus I wasn't ready to give up what gave me hope for one day seeing Patience again and for being an eternal family with Jeff and Patrick. So in a way I stayed because I was scared. I also stayed because of those blessings and the witnesses I have had in the past. I knew something had to be correct and hoped that I could move past the negatives.

So, back to two weeks ago. I came home really thinking that my faking it wasn't working and thinking that I needed to talk to the bishop and ask him to release me from my calling and just be on my way because me trying just wasn't working. I had stopped praying sometime after Pay died. And if I did pray, the heartfelt feeling was gone and I would bluntly tell God that I didn't want to talk to him, but to just let me talk to Pay. I fought Jeff on saying prayers at night and would act like I was too tired. I would say prayers with Patrick when ever I could because I still felt like he needed that comfort and knowledge and that I didn't have the right to take that away from him. Yet, in the back of my mind I think I did it because I still knew it, but couldn't believe. Then a month ago I slowly started to pray again, very simple and angry, but I started asking for a possible desire to open my heart. So I tried, I asked Jeff to monitor my media and help me to lessen my time on it. We made a prayer schedule, me odd days and he had the even. I tried to read scriptures a little too. But the feelings I would get were forced and felt unnatural. 

So, when I came home two

Weeks ago and felt like giving up, I remembered a blessing Jeff gave to me and I begged God to talk to me. To show me that he still loves me and that he would fight for me. I cried in my car after dropping something off at my parents and came in the house. I had dried up my tears and asked for the blessing. Jeff asked what was going on and I told him that I didn't want to tell him. So, of course he knew that I was testing to see if the blessing was real or not. I was born with a questioning mind, sometimes that gets me in trouble. So Jeff prayed and started the blessing. 

His blessings always start the same. ( your heavenly father loves you and you have a husband that loves you very much too.) but that changed quickly. Jeff's words became more deep and slow. His vocabulary changed and he sounded much calmer. Then he changed from talking about God to talking as if he was. Meaning, instead of saying he or him, he started using I. God told me that he knew I was questioning and having a hard time with losing my friend. He said that she was there with him. That she was special and sometimes He has greater plans for people and that he needs them with him sooner than they want. He said she was doing well and that she loved me. Then he said how much he missed me...(I'm crying now as I write this). He said that I used to talk to him often through out the day. I would talk to him while driving in the car or would ask him to stay and talk to me throughout the day. (Which I used to do very often and wouldn't end my morning prayers until much later in the day.) He said he missed that, and wants me back. He also promised me that one day he would sit me down and explain everything to me face to face. He pleaded with me to talk to him. And I couldn't help it. My heart changed, I actually wanted to talk to him. I wanted to call him father and I wanted to be close to him. I was finally free of the hatred and he made me whole.

 

Afterward, Jeff and I talked, and of

course I questioned him on why he said the things that he did. It's so funny because he is all serious when giving the blessing and right before and after he gets his normal attitude and relaxed tone of voice back. 

The short of it is that I knew it was from God. The blessing was specific to me. My father wasn't mad at me for hating him so much. He wasn't angry because I fought against him. He was hurt that I wasn't taking to him and I could sense his pain because of it. He just wanted me home. He wanted me. And he still wants me. 

I'm working hard to fight now. I'm working to strengthen my belief in the gospel and to let go of the judgment of the LDS culture and to let go of the imperfect parts of my religion. I'm working hard to focus on the main gospel principles charity, love, hope, faith, atonement and the plan of salvation. Because I know the priesthood is real, I know that the rest has to be true. It doesn't mean that it's perfect, but it's working toward it and I'm working toward it too. 

The past weeks after the blessing have been wonderful. I still have bad moments, but I'm enjoying church. I actually liked it today and desired to share my testimony, not because of obligation or hope that I would feel something, but to actually share my experience and to thank my God. 

Things are looking up. I think I will always have to fight for my belief. I'm not

One of those people who was born with simple faith and have the blessing of belief. I have to fight for it everyday, but I finally feel ready to do it, and it feels good.

Grief

So it has been a struggle lately to see my friends having more kids. I get jealous and frustrated with my husband. I show my frustrations in him, when I'm not really mad at him, but I am so devastated that I will not be able to create a human with him. I think all of the Hope from other people saying that you mom got pregnant after adopting, I'm sure God will do that, it was amazing how Patrick came, but I hope you get pregnant.

I wish that everyone would keep their opinions to themselves, unless I ask.  I love my son. I love him more than I love my own life, but I wish that I could have another child to love as well. I want to be able to name her and to watch her grow up from birth. I want to witness her birth. I say her, because I hope to be able to name her a special name. 

I don't feel like that is a possibility anymore. I feel like Patrick may have been my only baby to raise. I am so excited to adopt and foster other children, but I wish I had known that Patrick was my last infant. I tried to live it up as much as possible, but maybe I would have been able to prep myself a little more. Even if I get pregnant, it will not be with the man I love! It wilł come from a tube with some strangers donation. 

I have been struggling with a lot of things lately, but I think that the root of it all is my grief with infertility. Why? I know that everyone thinks that about their own life, and now it is my turn again. I want to build my family. I want to be able to give Patrick a sibling. I want to provide that, but I can't. So give him dolls to take care of and a dog to teach him patience, friends to play with and argue with, but I feel like I am falling short in being able to provide him with a full family. I šhouldnt have kids just for Patrick, but I want them. I want to be a mom of many in my home. I'm like a mother at school and can influence kids and I do love them as my own, but I don't get to take them home, tuck them in, give them a bubble bath and watch them grow into teenagers, parents and aunts and uncles. 

I'm not in a good place now. I need to accept it and feel it, then maybe it will lessen. 

Easter

Today is the day that Christ rose from the dead. He did what no other could do and people still fought against him. He was sincere about it and had no other reason for it other than to fulfill his fathers will. And still people do not believe. The apostles did not believe and they chose to wait until they were forced to believe. Until they actually saw him, and even then, some not until they felt the wounds in his hand.  Were they all equally righteous? Were they all faithful? I think that they were, at least I hope that they were. We all have our moments of faith and question. I'm in my moment of question. I want to believe so terribly badly, but my heart hurts too much. 

Today, in our youth Sunday school class, we talked about the reason we celebrate Easter. It was amazing to see that many of the students did not know the true reason for Easter. Mostly, the answer was about family, good reason but not what I was thinking. We talked about the importance of the symbols of eater, egg, rabbit, new beginnings, gifts. One interesting thing was that one of the students talked about the egg and how when you open the egg, the you leaves and the egg is emptied like an empty tomb. 

This lesson was so difficult to teach. I talked about pay and shared that. Jacob shared that he had a friend die last year at school. He said that she was happy and a kind and that she liked to donate her hair to cancer patients. And then he heard that she hung herself. My focus was not to talk about depression or sadness, but that is where it went. We talked about how we need to make sure that we treat everyone like a brother or sister. That we never know what is going on in their minds. 

Pay struggled so much with anxiety. I struggle with depression. We worked together. We were not perfect but together we were better. I asked the students today how they would feel if they were one of the persons that Christ had heeled and how they would have felt at the time their savior died? Of course, then I thought about Peter and how he reacted after hearing Christ was risen.

6 He is not here, but is risen: remember how he spake unto you when he was yet in Galilee,

7 Saying, The Son of man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and the third day rise again.

8 And they remembered his words,

9 And returned from the sepulchre, and told all these things unto the eleven, and to all the rest.

10 It was Mary Magdalene, and Joanna, and Mary the mother of James, and other women that were with them, which told these things unto the apostles.

11 And their words seemed to them as idle tales, and they believed them not.

12 Then arose Peter, and ran unto the sepulchre; and stooping down, he beheld the linen clothes laid by themselves, and departed, wondering in himself at that which was come to pass.

Peter lost his best friend. He also betrayed him and so terribly wanted to say he was sorry. So when he heard this news he was shocked to believe it.

Poop

I don't know why I am always the one to deal with the potty, but tonight was priceless. Patrick thinks it is so funny to go potty. Lately he will repeatedly tell me, while I am getting him dressed, "I gonna pre on you." Please read it in a melodic mock, lately everything is in song or very dramatic. Then he says, "psssss!" And laughs hysterically. If I tell him that what he is saying is yucky, he does it more, so inhale to ignore his threats.

Now when he goes number 2 it is a different story. He will scrunch up his face, ask to hold my hands and then with the most forced and cheesy grin he begs for me to put my forehead against his and will try to push our heads together. Oh and at random times he will jumpnupnfromnthe potty and give me a bear hug. What a ham.

So tonight he was in his usual mood of pooping and he had started, but then went to touch it. I of course told him no and expressed how yucky it was. He stopped and with a sweet smile held my hands and then with all his force tried to put my hands in the potty and in the most quiet voice he whispered, as he looked stray into my eyes, as if he was giving me a serious reprimand, said, "TOUCH... THE...POOP.... KNOW."

Oh my, what am I going to do with him?