Monthly Archives: May 2009

Four Years Ago This Very Day


Today I have been married to Adam Kenneth for FOUR years.

My wedding day was not perfect. I started the day by clipping my grandma’s toenails (no joke).

I then arrived at the temple to find that my husband-to-be had been up more then half the night as sick as could be. He was only marginally better throughout our entire wedding day. You can’t miss the yellow tinge to his face in ALL our wedding pictures.

Speaking of wedding pictures…a grand majority of them were accidentally deleted. What we ended up with wasn’t much.

Like I said, it wasn’t perfect.

But my marriage has been. Adam and I are SO happy. We have a great relationship and I boldly declare that we are incredibly well matched. We compliment each other so well. My weaknesses are his strengths and vice versa. I love him so much, and KNOW that he loves me almost equally :). I honestly can not imagine how marriage could get any better.

Below is part of the video that my brother-in-law Tyler made for our wedding day. We have watched it a million times and never get tired of it. Megan also LOVES watching it.

Here’s to many many many more happy years. Love you “babe”!


To Michigan for a Funeral


Grandma We were so sad when it didn’t work out for Adam to attend his grandmother’s memorial service in Utah. We went back and forth toying with so many different options but finally had to just accept that we wouldn’t be able to make it. When we heard that the actual funeral and burial would take place in Michigan, we really hoped that things would fall into place so we could go, and at the very least that Adam might just go on his own. Well, things did fall into place just perfectly and Adam was able to be there for the funeral this past week.

Adam phoned me during the luncheon that took place right after the services. From his voice I could tell immediately that he was so happy that he had gone and as he told me about the funeral and his time there, I could see why. The funeral was really beautiful, he said, and SO many people came to pay their respects to such a wonderful woman. He heard so many sweet memories and stories about her, from so many different people. Adam also felt so honored that he was able to dedicate Grandma’s grave site. What a tender connection he will forever have to this woman he loved so much.

Adam was also able to spend some time with his mom and her three siblings while there. He told me about all the stories they shared with him about growing up in Michigan. He came home just bursting with lots of fun stories about them and his grandparents. He told me several times how nice it was to just listen to them and be a part of their tender memories. I loved listening to him repeat what he had heard. I especially enjoyed hearing things about my mother-in-law in her youth. It was fun to imagine what she might have been like back then.

I sure missed Adam while he was gone in Michigan, but I am SO glad that he was able to go, and more importantly, HE was SO glad that he was able to go. We both loved Grandma Williams SO dearly, and we are so grateful to be a part of her eternal family. Those who knew Grandma know that she was always quick with jokes and could have even the grumpiest of people smiling in seconds. I will always smile when I remember her.
‘Till we meet again!

Slightly Embarrassed


I was probably quite the ridiculous sight this morning as I:

• walked to the bus stop
• rode the bus to the park
• spent some time at the park
• walked to Hy-Vee
• picked up some groceries
• walked to another bus stop
• rode the bus again in the opposite direction
• and then walked home…

…with these two in tow:
Emily and Megan

Oh…the things we do for our children…

SiX MoNtHs


It’s hard to believe that it was half a year ago today that Jack was born.

This morning as I laid in bed thinking of that morning, my thoughts turned to the happenings before he was born.

So many precious memories happened before we even arrived at the hospital, but this would be far too long a blog post if I included every detail of that day. Today my thoughts are mostly on the hospital part of labor and the delivery.

After we arrived at the hospital, things seemed to be moving along at a pretty good pace. I was at a five upon arriving, and before too long I was already at a seven. Yes the contractions were painful, but not at all as bad as I expected. When the midwife told me I was at a seven and that it was time to get an epidural if I wanted one, I told her I didn’t want one. I was induced with Megan, and I remember the pain being more intense then I could ever describe. With Jack, it was endurable. Perhaps my body was just used to being in pain, after all, I had suffered through a pretty miserable pregnancy. Well, whatever it was, I felt strong.

It was merely minutes later when the doctor arrived and said we needed to get Jack out: and it had to happen NOW. He recommended an emergency c-section. I was deflated because we had come so far and we were so close. However, we weren’t close enough and nothing more mattered at that point except getting little Jack out, and getting him out alive.

That was the point when the nightmare REALLY began. The prepping for the c-section ranks right up there with the worst experiences of my life and it all went downhill from there.

Words can’t even describe the range of emotions that were experienced from the moment we left our apartment, to the moment our baby was born silently. Perhaps these pictures will be worth a thousand words:

Before we knew Jack's heartrate was high; before we knew we needed a c-section

Before we knew Jack's heartrate was high; before we knew we needed a c-section

Waiting to be released so I could go see my son

Waiting to be released so I could go see my son

While I regret that I wasn’t able to have a natural delivery, and that I had to have major surgery, I would never change a thing because obviously that’s what needed to happen in order to give little Jack a chance. And while my body is forever scarred; I love my scar. I love the physical reminder that Jack was indeed a part of my flesh, especially now that he is gone. Jack is gone, and so also is my pregnancy figure. Sometimes I feel like all I have left is that scar. And I am grateful for it.

Tomorrow I will probably cry when I think of that morning six months ago. But today, for some reason, I can smile. I am holding tight to the many sacred memories I have and I am thinking upon those memories with fondness. I miss Jack and I want my six month old boy in my home, but today I am doing “okay”.

Wish List


A couple weeks ago we received a letter in the mail from one of the social workers we met while in Iowa City. She sent a nice message along with a couple documents on grieving. One of the documents was entitled: A Bereaved Parent’s Wish List. As I read through the list, I felt like each item hit close to home. I honestly have experienced each “wish” at one time or another. I hope it is appropriate to share these things with those who still read my blog and who would perhaps appreciate an honest and personal look into my “bereavement”.

A Bereaved Parent’s Wish List
(I have highlighted in bold the feelings I have most often)

1. I wish my child hadn’t died. I wish I had him back.
2. I wish you wouldn’t be afraid to speak my child’s name. My child lived and was very important to me. I need to hear that he was important to you as well.
3. If I cry and get emotional when you talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn’t because you have hurt me. My child’s death is the cause of my tears. You have talked about my child, and you have allowed me to share my grief. I thank you for both.
4. Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn’t shy away from me. I need you more than ever.
5. I need diversions, so I do want to hear about you; but I also want you to hear about me. I might be sad and I might cry, but I wish you would let me talk about my child, my favorite topic of the day.
6. I know that you think of and pray for me often. I also know that my child’s death pains you, too. I wish you would let me know things through a phone call, a card or a note, or a real big hug.
7. I wish you wouldn’t expect my grief to be over in six months. These first months are traumatic for me, but I wish you could understand that my grief will never be over. I will suffer the death of my child until the day I die.
8. I am working very hard in my recovery, but I wish you could understand that I will never fully recover. I will always miss my child, and I will always grieve that he is dead.
9. I wish you wouldn’t expect me “not to think about it” or to “be happy”. Neither will happen for a very long time so don’t frustrate yourself.
10. I don’t want to have a “pity party,” but I do wish you would let me grieve. I must hurt before I can heal.
11. I wish you understood how my life has shattered. I know it is miserable for you to be around me when I’m feeling miserable. Please be as patient with me as I am with you.
12. When I say, “I’m doing okay,” I wish you could understand that I don’t feel okay and that I struggle daily.
13. I wish you knew that all of the grief reactions I’m having are very normal. Depression, anger, hopelessness and overwhelming sadness are all to be expected. So please excuse me when I’m quiet and withdrawn or irritable and cranky.
14. Your advice to “take one day at a time” is excellent. However, a day is too much and too fast for me right now. I wish you could understand that it is an accomplishment sometimes to handle an hour at a time.
15. Please excuse me if I seem rude, certainly not my intent. Sometimes the world around me goes too fast and I need to get off. When I walk away, I wish you would let me find a quiet place to spend time alone.
16. I wish you understood that grief changes people. When my child died, a big part of me died with him. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I will never be that person again.
17. I wish very much that you could understand – understand my loss and my grief, my silence and my tears, my void and my pain.

But I pray daily that you will never understand.