the chapter I wish that wasn't

          I have written this part of the story in my head dozens of times.  But when it comes to writing it down on paper, it seems impossible.  I'm scared to write it wrong.  Its hard to put as much emotion into my writing that is necessary to explain the next part of the story: the story of Max, our son who may not have been.  Our crazy happy, crazy loving, crazy cuddling, crazy sweet little Max.  From the beginning, we thought our 3 little birds were meant for a different family.  Even after they were placed, we wondered if we were just a stopping ground before they moved onto a different family.  At first glance, Max seemed like a happy 9 month old baby boy.  But in reality, Max cried ALL. THE. TIME.  He seemed miserable.  He screamed even more than he cried.  Dinner time was a nightmare.  I just wanted him to be happy and he only seemed happy if I was holding him.  We knew he had anxiety.  But mostly I thought he was unhappy and hated his new home. I was going insane and things only got worse after Simon was born. I needed help.

        Help and hope came in the form of another foster family.  The *Hansen Family.  They did respite for us the first weekend we had our bonus kids since we had a trip already planned.  It would be the first (and only) time Kyle's parents had ever babysat for us and we didn't want to overwhelm them with an extra three kids.  Penny, Millie and Max had a blast.  A few months later we planned a trip to AZ--but we only had 9 seats, someone had to stay behind.  Max volunteered to stay with the Hansen Family.  He hated the car anyways, and he LOVED the Hansens.  From all reports he was happy in their home.  I knew it was because he had so much more attention--attention that he deserved.  So we went on our trip and Max stayed behind.  After our trip Max spent more and more time with the Hansens.  It made things easier at home, quieter, but oh how we missed him.  I kept telling the kids he was so much happier there, and we wanted him to be happy.  I was trying to prepare them for what I thought would happen.  Kyle and I both truly thought he was meant to be the Hansens son.  In public, I stood confident and faithful in this belief, and we were adamant with DCFS about him being better off in a smaller family.  DCFS was not happy, but told us it may be a possibility (they were lying to us but we didn't know that--as soon as we voiced our opinion about Max, they reached out to a great aunt in Nebraska as a possible placement for all 3 kids--but thats another part of this story for another time).  I was a brand new foster parent.  I had no idea how things worked.

        As I was saying, in public, I acted ok with our belief that Max was better off with the Hansens, but in private, I was devastated, felt like a failure, and mourned over the loss of a son I would not have.  For me it was the hardest most unselfish decision I HAD to make.  I wasn't enough for him, he needed more.  It wasn't until Christmas break that I realized how much we needed Max and how much he needed us.  It was also becoming clear, due to the lack of communication with us, that DCFS wouldn't support Max's transfer.  One of the best decisions DCFS ever made in this case, and that I'm forever grateful for...because I don't know if I would have had the strength on my own to tell the Hansens that I had changed my mind.  Max had started to grow to be a part of their family as well, and I knew they loved him.  It was also around this time that we discovered he would need tubes.  We wondered, and it was later confirmed, that the cause of most of his screaming and crying and unhappiness was chronic ear infections for most of his life.  He didn't show the common signs---he had no fever, but would throw up from time to time--which at the time, we didn't know that puking is also a symptom of ear infections.

          After we informed DCFS that we were happy to keep all 3 kids, and that his new tubes had greatly improved his disposition, we went along our Merry little way.  We were forever indebted to the Hansen family, for how much they helped us, especially during some very hard and long days.  We thought things were looking up and we were very excited and hopeful that we would get to add our new bonus kids permanently to our family.  We had no idea what trial was around the corner--the scariest moment of my life so far.  I still can't believe it happened, and that against all odds, everything worked out how it was supposed to work out.  

Most of my days looked like this...kids fighting for my lap.  Me trying to smile through it.  Sweet, perfect baby Simon, somewhere in the background letting them have me.  If he had been a needy, fussy baby, I think I would have lost my marbles...4 crying babies would just be too much for this exhausted mom to handle.  

Max Today

Preschool Graduation Spring 2017

* Name has been changed.

Oliver: baby to big brother of 3 overnight

               We tried to prepare all our kids little by little for the changes that would come.  We talked about foster care a lot before we even had a placement.  The 3 older kids were excited and wanted to talk about it all the time, but Oliver was clueless.  He had no idea how his life would change--almost overnight.  He was the baby for 2 years and 10 months before Millie and Max showed up.  He adored Max from the moment he met him.  And he found lots of mischief with Millie.  It seemed he was just fine except for one thing--whenever I would leave he would panic.  Scream at the top of his lungs.  Cry and hold on to my legs for dear life.  I don't remember who started it first but pretty soon there would be three screaming babies crying for me not to go.  I was guilt ridden all the time.  I couldn't leave but I needed to--I had to have some breaks from the clinging trio, especially before the fourth arrived.  Millie and Max had a reason for being so anxious, and I knew it would take time for them to feel secure.  But I didn't expect it from Oliver.  I took him everywhere I went hoping that would help.  We talked a lot about how Millie and Max's mommy had to leave because she was not making good mommy choices but that I was never going to make those choices, and that I would always be his mommy.  Anytime I left the littles I would have them repeat, "moms sometimes leave but then they always come back."  After a LONG time with my own made up therapies for Oliver, he started to relax and he started to be the one that assured Millie and Max every time I left.  He was now the one having them repeat "moms come back."  I didn't point out that their mom, may never come back.  

Imagine yourself explaining to your 3, 4, 7 and 9 year old that their new brother and sisters may never go home.  That this may be their forever home.  Or the other possibility that their new best friends would go home someday, and in all likelihood that they would never ever see them again.  Imagine introducing them to this world of children without homes and unfit parents.  They learn words like drugs, and drug tests, and family team meetings.  They learn to share everything including their mom and dads time--so much time given to the other kids that may or may not be part of their family for very long.  Each one of my kids had moments of frustration and jealousy, but thats all they were--moments.  I don't even think they knew what they were feeling when their emotions would surface. But I knew it was because of all of the changes, I had been preparing for the worst but I turned out I didn't need to.  The overwhelming feeling that my kids had for their new siblings was that of love and acceptance and concern for their wellbeing.  I was a proud mama and I still am. 

Oliver has always loved babies.  Ever since he was 18 months old he has been mesmerized by them--following them around trying to take care of them or just sitting but them, watching them sleep.  He was obviously made for his new big brother role.

Kids are amazing.  They are resilient, strong and love unconditionally.  And they easily forgive---its a good thing too!  I have made so many mistakes along the way and I plan on making a million more before I die.  People always tell me that my kids, especially my adopted kids, are lucky to have me.  I have never ever, not even once, felt that myself.  I am my greatest critic and I know all of my faults perfectly.  I agree with you and say thank you when you tell me how lucky these kids are, but in my head I am saying "Actually, I am the lucky one."  They make me forget my faults.  They make me love myself more than I think I deserve.  They forgive me and teach me and if I could, I would adopt an orphanage of children for very selfish reasons.  They make me love so much it hurts.  (Lets not talk about how they also make me so crazy I want to check into a looney bin or that Kyle and I joke about putting them in foster care....bad joke?  Its just a joke don't worry.)

 

And then there were 8

                             
We fell into a routine after a couple of months that kept us sane and mostly happy.  But obviously still sleep deprived because I wet the bed.  Ug. The last time I wet the bed was...wait for it...on my honeymoon!  Too much info?  Talk about the most embarrassing story ever (saved for NEVER! but in my defense I had a UTI).  I didn't want to wake up Kyle but 8 month pregnant self was having a few cramps so I didn't turn on the light and after using the el bano didn't flush and decided to watch Call the Midwives on the computer in the living room.  Kyle eventually stirred and came out to wonder aloud why the heck his wife was watching tv at 5 am.  I told him I thought it might be time to have a baby.  The cramps were contractions and getting stronger.  I went in to check on my yellow sheets and instead found a red surprise.  I found the same surprise when I went to the bathroom to flush.  I had never seen so much blood.  Kyle and I were worried and unsure of what to do first.  We divided to conquer.  He found a sub for his 6 am meet up for cub scout camp that day and I called my friend Michelle to come to the house.

We drove to the hospital and after a scare of possible placental abruption, our healthy baby boy Simon Hernry was born.  I celebrated with a cherry coke.  He was beautiful and I was in love.  I had decided not to nurse for the first time.  It was a hard decision. Not because I especially loved nursing, but because of all of the pressure put on me in the hospital to nurse.  I knew I wouldn't be able to handle a nursing baby and 3 babies at home who thought every time I sat down it was an invitation to climb on my lap.  Nursing was stressful, especially the first few weeks and I wasn't prepared to add anymore stress on our family.  I had to remind the nurses several times (sometimes through tears) that I wasn't nursing.  After a pep talk from Kyle I held strong and fed sir Simon the beautiful bottle with confidence.

Too soon it was time to go home and get back to work.  Vacation was over.  The kids were thrilled to see us.  Oliver  could't contain his enthusiasm over a new baby and made us show him all his fingers and toes. I wish I could remember every little moment of those newborn days but they are mostly a blur.  What I do remember is that for the first time I had an angel of a baby.  He rarely cried and he brought a feeling of peace and love that newborns are often guilty of.  We all adored him and we all needed him and it was clear-- Simon came at the perfect time.

Life was definitely busier with a newborn.  Kyle did the first visit or two but eventually I started driving out to Heber for visits.  I took our three bonus kids as well as Simon.  Simon and I spent a happy hour in the car together just us two.  I cuddled and cooed with baby all the while trying not to think about the visit happening just a few feet away in the Dcfs building.  The kids were always happy to go to the visit, but they were also anxious to get back into the car afterwards.  I remember after only a few weeks of doing visits Millie saw me driving the car after the visit and was so worried that I was going to drive away that she started to freak out and scream.  She calmed down as soon as she knew she was getting in my car to come home.

For the fist time in my life I knew I had postpartum.  I was crying ALL THE TIME and most of the time I didn't even know WHY.  I definitely didn't feel like myself and finally asked for help.  I remember on the phone with the nurse when I made the appointment they asked me if I had thoughts of suicide.  I told them no, but I had thoughts of running away! I arranged with Kyle to have him meet me at the doctors office to pick up the youngest 5 kids so I could talk to the doctor in peace. Unfortunately, we didn't communicate the location of the doctors office and he drove to a different doctors office.  It was too late, I would have to take my baby, 1, 2, 3, and 4 year old into the appointment.  I'm sure her seeing me with those crazy monkeys climbing all over me trying to share one bag of fruit snacks made the doctor want to prescribe all kinds of medication for me. She was so sweet and after figuring out most of what I was feeling was anxiety, she prescribed me a low dose of prozac.  I was doubtful anything would help me, let alone a little pill, but I was thankful she listened and validated my feelings.  She went a step further helped me and my brood out to the car.  Even helping the kids into their carseats.  I will never forget that kindness.

You are told when you certify as foster parents that there will be a rollercoaster of emotions.  But can anything really prepare you for loving a child for a year and then sending he or she back back to  the place of neglect and abuse they came from? After all your hard work to undo the mess the the trauma caused, DCFS sends them back and HOPES that they will be ok.  Some days I couldn't take it and I would just cry in frustration and hope they would go home the next day before I got too attached.  Other days I pleaded with my Heavenly Father to please, please let them stay.  Let them be MY children forever.  In the beginning it looked like the kids would be going to an aunt.  A sister to Penny's birth father.  We prepared to have them moved in every way we could but things never materialized.  Forms were't completed, appointments missed and DCFS was finally told that the aunts husband would only take Penny, not her siblings.  We breathed a sigh of relief and continued on.  Next we were notified that grandma would be taking the kids.  She talked to the kids each visit about how she was fixing up their room, got new carpet, and a crib for Max.  Again, after a few weeks, DCFS finally came out and ruled against grandma ever getting custody of the children because of her past.  I wasn't sure at the time that it was the best decision.  The grandma was very loving, and seemed like she would provide a loving home and stability.  Rumors surfaced that she was still using drugs and that her husband was an alcoholic. But that wasn't what made DCFS decide not to move the children to her home.

There are a few details from Penny's first week with us that I will never forget.  She was a colorful cute little liar that first week.  She told me she lived in the biggest house on the street.  That her grandpa drove a submarine.  Another memorable conversation was about foster care.  She told me in her happy go lucky voice, "It is normal for kids to go to foster care.  Lots of kids do.  My mom did".  I had to tell her in the most loving way that it wasn't normal, or ok. I explained that the reason her mom went to foster care was because her grandma made some bad choices and didn't know how to be a safe mom.  I also explained that she was in foster care because her mom had made the same bad choices.  She was in foster care to be safe.

Her birth mom had been placed in foster care when she was about 16, and after some time, moved back home--only to continue to use drugs and live her colorful lifestyle.  It was only a matter of time before the cycle resurfaced.  I don't think mom ever had a chance to live a normal happy life.  Life isn't fair, but that wasn't Penny, Millie, or Max's fault.  I was determined to make them know that.

I am also determined to finish this story, but Lice interfered.  We are now a proud family of 12 lice FREE scalps.

at the doctors.  So much fun!

 This is not a staged picture.  This was my life.  I can't really believe I did it--not without help of course.  But I did it.  Not only survived it, but I came out a better and stronger person-because of them, all 8 of them.

Detour

This is my journal.  Originally I envisioned it being private, but after a lot of thought, I decided I'm ok with it being public.  People ask a lot of questions about foster care, adoption, our life with 10 littles and I'm totally ok with that but most of the time I don't know how to answer right on the spot, or I don't have enough time.  Here I can take the time to formulate all the words I have swimming around in my head.  Also--I really do love to share our story.  Not because I think we are amazing, or special, but because I want to show everyone that we are just regular.  And that regular people CAN do AMAZING things if we listen to the promptings of the spirit and follow them.

My journal includes a lot of talk about God, and the spirit, and power of prayer.  And if that makes anyone feel uncomfortable I'm not sorry.  First of all, because this is my journal, and second of all--my life, this life, my husband, my children, would not have been possible had I not listened to the spirit.  I can't take the all credit of doing amazing things because without God, I would not be able to do any of them.  Compliments seem to be hard for people in general to accept.  It sometimes feels like you are prideful if you too easily accept a compliment.  Most people make some type of excuse or another why that compliment is unfounded.  I do it all the time.  People say, "Emily you are SO amazing!" and I always say,  "No, I'm insane, it's different."  The other week someone told me I was amazing in Costco and it played on repeat all the way home.

"Is it ok for me to feel amazing?  Because I don't.  But, isn't what I'm doing amazing? Yes--yes it is!  I alone am not amazing.  I am not perfect.  I am full of flaws, but that doesn't mean I don't do amazing things." 

When I was a senior in high school someone taught me how to take compliments.  How to not feel so uncomfortable with accepting them.  I have let myself forget it these last few years, but I am going to try harder to remember.  When someone gives you a compliment you imagine it bouncing off of you to God and back down on you again.  Its like you are saying thank you to Him first, because that is where you came from, where all your talents, and skills, and beauty originated.  It's because of my Heavenly Father and Savior Jesus Christ that I decided to do this blog.  It may sound cheesy, but its my way of complimenting Them. Show how amazing They are for helping me to do amazing things.  That being said, I really truly believe ALL mothers and women (and sometimes men..j/k...they are amazing too) do amazing things each day.  I see them all around me.  Teaching me and showing me how to be a better me.  

And so after that detour--I will end with a story.

Once upon a time, there was a husband and a wife.  They had 8 beautiful (and sometimes a bit crazy) children.  One day they became foster parents (again) to two little girls. The wife had an experience that she will never forget that made her believe these little girls would be her daughters someday...before they were even born, she thought this.  But as the years passed by, doubts of this ever becoming a reality started to surface.  She pushed them away over and over again.  She asked her husband what he thought, and he said, "Don't worry about it, it will all work out. And you already got your answer."  He reminded her of the analogy of Peter walking on water towards Christ. If he kept his focus on Christ, he would not sink.  But he wasn't able to do it.  He encouraged his wife to walk on water.  She continued to pray for faith and assurance that what she felt so long ago would; stay strong with her through the storm and the raging waters.  But some days were hard.  An especially hard day she asked her husband to remind her how he felt about the situation.  He said he believed what would happen but he did not know what would happen or how long it would take.  This made her feel as if the rock she had been standing on disintegrated into sand.  She realized she had been relying on his faith and had misinterpreted his beliefs.  She was devastated.  She felt confused.  Betrayed even.  How could she do this hard thing and NOT know what would happen. She felt as if she might drown if she couldn't know the outcome. She wouldn't survive it.  This wife tried to stop feeling sick about it and went to sleep.  She went to sleep and dreamed.  The dream was so vivid that she cried real tears of fear in her dream.  She didn't think much of it until the next morning when she was reciting the dream to her husband.  When she put the images into words, she realized that the dream was not a coincidence.  She had never had a dream that seemed to mean anything. The dream went like this:

The wife was at a familiar beach.  She was on the sand alone and without a warning, a huge rush of water came and surrounded her.  It was a tsunami and it was terrifying.  She survived but every time she remembered her experience she cried.  Later, she visited the same beach, she was scared but felt assurance it would be ok.  She was floating on the water in an inner tube and all of a sudden the inner tube submerged under water and she felt as if another tsunami was headed for her.  She was under water and drowning.  She heard voices.  It was her parents calling out to her.  "Emily, you are only in three feet of water.  You are not drowning, just put your head up!  You will be ok!"

It wasn't a dream about walking on water.  It wasn't a dream telling me everything will work out how I want it to work out.  But it did tell me I would survive, to not worry, that I will be ok.  I guess that will have to be enough right now.  I will live in the moment and love those two foster babies for as long as I can.  I will put my head up and I will be ok.  

Adoption is both sad and happy but mostly just a lot of love!

Before we adopted Penny we talked a lot about what adoption means.  I've always told her adoption is sad and happy but mostly just a lot of love.  But I've found over the years that its not just sad for the birth family and their children, but it is sad and quite painful at times for the adoptive families as well.  There are so many wonderful things about adoption and I'm so happy that most of the time they over shadow the hard things.  I am reminded sometimes, how human I am, even though I try so hard to be a Super.  I want to have the so much confidence in my decision to have an open adoption and never doubt it.  I don't want to feel jealous or insecure.  I know how I want to feel, how I'm supposed to feel (unselfish), but sometimes it just doesn't work like that.  Like when you have all the birth family over for a 3 hour visit on a Saturday, and watch your 5 year old snuggle up as many times as she can to her birth mom that she has NO memories of before she came into foster care and was adopted.  She only knows her because you've helped create a few good memories.  Or when you are explaining to your 10 year old why some people have closed adoptions and others open and she says, "you don't have to worry about me loving them more than you, because I love you both the SAME."  

I hugged two *drug dealers this weekend.  Welcomed them into my home.  Let them hug and snuggle my babies.  But it was hard.  Even if it feels right, and you know its what is best for these particular children and this particular family, that thriving human inside of you struggles to the top and fights to be heard. 

"I can't believe I have drug dealers in my house, they might be the most respectful drug dealers ever, but they are still drug dealers.  I don't care if you are clean today.  You were forced to be clean because of your 30 days in jail.  Lets face it, tomorrow you could be using again and you won't care about us as much as you do today.  I don't want our kids to love us the SAME.  I want them to love me MORE.  I've done WAY more for them, and I obviously LOVE them MORE."

This weekend reminded me of a couple things.  One, It is absolutely amazing to me that two families, different in almost every way, can be together, love each other, be unselfish together.  I'm ordinary, but I know I'm doing an amazing thing.  And two--lets forget about number two right now and just focus on number one.  

The day after our visit birth mom posted (word for word) on her Facebook page:

"Ten years ago today I gave birth to the best little thing that ever happened to me I love you penny rose I know that one day you will come home to us and i can't Waite to make it all up to you have a happy happy birthday baby"

Why does she do this? She has written this kind of message before and she tags our Facebook account that we have set up for her so I can post pics of the kids for her. We also get together a few times a year. Recently she wrote a letter and tried to communicate to me through our daughter. "Mommy loves you so much, I want to get you a birthday present, ask your mom if that is ok." Luckily I intercepted the letter. She wrote it in rehab, and I'm pretty sure it was supposed to be an apology letter--but it wasn't. One day I will tell her that she cannot do this. That any letters she sends to my house need to be addressed to me. And if she wants to talk to me--to contact me. But since I have her two other kids in care right now...I don't really want to rock that boat.  Its just hard sometimes to be the nice one when I want to give her a dose of reality---you can never make this up to her!! She will not be coming home except for a polite visit one day. She will lead a beautiful drug free life and she already knows coming back to you isn't what she wants to do. She knows you are a drug dealer. That drugs are the reason why you have lost all FIVE children. She loves you, but my hope is that I will fill her up so much with love and understanding (and resources when that doesn't cut it) that she won't NEED you to make it up to her. 

What is she thinking tagging me in this????  The thing is she doesn't think.  She has no clue about how insane that post will sound to me.  Come home to you?  She IS home. AND you can NEVER make it all up to her.  EVER.  What you have done to these children may never be completely reparable, but I know for one thing, YOU won't be making anything up to them.  They will figure out how to repair themselves with the help of me--our family and with the help of their Heavenly Father who is the only One that can truly make it all up to them.  And He will.

Here are some honest truths I've told Penny:
Birth mom does drugs, deals drugs.
Birth mom goes to jail, goes to rehab.
Birth mom loves you.
Birth mom's brain stopped developing around 13.  
Birth mom doesn't have a good memory because of drug abuse.
Grandma did drugs, birth mom was in foster care.
Both aunts did drugs but are recovering addicts and doing really well.
You can make bad choices and still be a good person. 
Everyone is a Child of God and is very much loved, but not everyone can be trusted.
We can love people who make bad choices, and we can learn to not make those bad choices.
We will make our own bad choices.
Birth mom lies sometimes, because she thinks the truth will hurt you.
I will tell you the truth, and help you feel better when it hurts.
We have to live with other people's consequences.  It sucks.
Being adopted was Heavenly Father's plan for you all along.
You are loved by SO many people!

*drug dealers are more normal than you think...and these ones aren't dangerous, I assure you.  If you met them, you would actually love them like I do.  They have only been kind and loving and respectful towards me and our family.  I've heard lots of stories of how they act around other people, but I have never witnessed anything that would make me think they were dangerous or a threat in any way.  Plus they were clean.  And addicts that are clean, are WAY different than when they aren't.

I put on my happy face.  I was the bigger person that I wanted to be, that I should be.   I have been dealt a better hand in life than she was.  She never had a chance.  I had about a million.  And I really do love her.  And I don't think she realizes how much she has lost, but I know. Could you even imagine losing all of your children?

The days were LONG

Every mom knows what it feels like for the days to drag on. Some days are longer than others.  After playing for hours on the floor with your kiddos with the constant interruptions of snack times, diaper changes along with multiple calls to action to avoid possible small scale disasters, you realize it is only 10 am.  I knew what it was like with 2 young children--Ruby and Oliver were 4 and almost 3 when we added 2 more stay at home kids.  I enjoyed being a mom, taking Ruby and Oliver on field trips, playing games, and just the regular mom chores.  I got out with friends during the week because they had a couple small children too.  It was manageable, even fun!  Adding 2 more (stay at home kids and then a newborn 2 months later) was not manageable or fun most days.  I was drowning.  Kyle was great, and so were my close friends, but no one can help you all of the time--and it was ALL the time that I was drowning.  Millie was at the hardest busiest age and she made it count every single minute of every single day.  She climbed EVERYTHING.  There was no such thing as childproof.  Kyle always joked that if anyone wanted to see if their house had a weakness, we could hire Millie out and she would find it.  She was full of anxiety and fears too.  I was ill equipped to deal with a child like Millie, and I was too exhausted to even try, but I did my best.  One of my biggest regrets is how I handled my early days with Millie and I've been trying to make up for it still.  Max cried.  A lot.  He also would sit and hit his head against a wall or couch over and over again.  Not enough to hurt, but it was obviously an unsettling behavior. I held him anytime I could.  Oliver, Millie and Max constantly fought over my lap.  My jeans grew holes in the knees so quickly from being on the floor all day with the kids.  I rarely if ever found time to eat.  I was consumed with all of the roller coaster emotions that accompany foster parents--will the kids stay or will they go? Max and Millie had so much anxiety I couldn't leave the room without them having fits of panic and crying hysterically for me.  Almost immediately Oliver started to exhibit the same anxiety.  In the beginning I was full of guilt anytime I had to leave them.  After awhile, I was filled with resentment for the guilt they were causing.  And then I felt even more guilt, because of my feelings of resentment. 

The days were long.  The first night I cried because I was so exhausted and didn't think I could survive it.  Obviously I was clueless about how hard things would really be when I decided to follow that prompting.  My thoughts of doubt were constant. "Was Heavenly Father crazy?  I thought he knew me.  How in the world did he think I could do this?"   I cried almost every night that first month, and multiple times during the day.  I didn't want the days to begin the next morning, but I never gave in those thoughts.  I woke up, got out of bed, and pushed through every single day.  I remember my mom visiting and suggesting that I hire someone to help clean my house or help with the kids.  Just like most of the other times she had a great idea, I absolutely positively refused to acknowledge that it was.  I didn't need someone else to clean my house.  I could do that.  I was asked to do this hard thing, and so I would do it.  That lasted a couple of months and then I buckled.  Kyle and I decided we really did need help.  We got 30 dollars a day through foster care, why not use that money for help?  And so we did. Every single penny and then some.  After 2 months of doing everything and wondering how I was going to keep it up after baby came at the beginning of August, I had a plan. I would hire someone to help.

Nicole helped me interview.  Of course.  And we found our help we so desperately needed.  I hired 2 nannies (even though I despise that name) to help me during the day.  I hired them at the beginning of July. Kyle didn't ever want me to be alone so we had morning and afternoon hours for our nannies.  Marley and Megan were heaven sent.  I just didn't know how perfectly timed they came into our lives until July 10.  Simon was due sometime during the first week of August.  My mom had made plans to come help at the end of July.  But Simon wanted to come July 10, and so he did.  It was by far, my scariest delivery and the events leading up to his birth were quite exciting!    In short, I thought I wet the bed, I was embarrassed but didn't want to deal with it and was having cramps and couldn't sleep so I watched call the midwife instead--at 3 am.  Kyle finally heard me at 4 am and wondered what in the world I was doing!  I finally went back in our bedroom and discovered I hadn't wet the bed.  More like bled the bed.  It was a little scary to say the least.  Luckily we hadn't seen the blood before deciding it was time to go to the hospital to be safe because of my cramping.  Unfortunately (typed with sarcasm) Kyle was scheduled to go to scout camp that day--he was supposed to leave at 6 am, but we luckily found a sub. Thank you Wilsons!  Nicole was out of town--how dare she not anticipate this early unexpected labor!  My friend Michelle was happy to come and stay at the house until our nanny arrived---barely on the job and she would be handling everything on her own.  It was not how I had planned it--I wanted to help them get to know the kids, show them where everything was, help them get comfortable (before throwing them in to the pit of despair) but this was not to be. After we had the other 7 kids taken care of, we left for the hospital to see about number 8.  Long story short, they suspected the placenta had started to detach but the ultrasound was not conclusive.  They decided having the baby that day was the best course of action and I agreed.  I was worried about him almost being a month early, but all went well, and after taking one look at him, I KNEW he was not early.  He looked the same and weighed the same as all of my other babies--I suspected a wrong due date prediction.  

I didn't know then, but I had my first anxiety episode at the hospital with Simon.  I had amazing nurses but I never liked asking for help.  I felt light headed and got up and almost fainted but caught myself on the side of the bed.  I called the nurse for a sprite.  I started crying as soon as she walked in.  I sobbed and sobbed while sipping that sprite.  I had a hard time breathing.  But focused on sipping that sprite like my life depended on it.  Apologizing for all the unnecessary tears---I didn't know what had come over me, but I knew I did not want to go home.  I wanted to stay in that hospital bed forever.  I wanted those nurses to take care of me forever and drink unlimited sprite.  I couldn't tell her all of those thoughts without sounding insane, so I just cried and tried to breath and sat sipping my sprite in between my pitiful sobs.  That poor nurse.  I'm sure she had seen it all before though.  She was so kind and comforting.  But soon, I had to go home.  Kyle came to get me, and I said I would just like to stay an extra couple of days.  He laughed and and forced me in the car.  Just kidding.  I was a willing participant. I  said goodbye to that lovely nurse and climbed into the car.

There WERE happy times.  The pictures make it look like there were ALWAYS happy times.  I'm ok with that.

Vampire Max and big brother Ollie

 

Millie was so little!!

These sweet sisters didn't sleep.  They would have woke up at 5 am to play dress up if I would have let them.  They were always the first ones up.  During the first couple of weeks Penny wasn't in school so Millie and Penny would play (another frustration of fostering is getting kids enrolled in their new schools--sometimes it is a long drawn out process).

Visits were in Heber.  I would drive an hour, stay an hour, and drive an hour home once a week.  This was Millies b-day party at McDonalds with Birth family.  We had only had the kids a few weeks. It was awkward for me.  I brought my kids.  I remembering wishing I hadn't.  

Our Birthday celebrations with Millie before her party.

Time out buddies.  I just found it amusing that one is smiling and one is crying.  She just thought it was great to be on a high stool.

Millie and Oliver were double the trouble.  Here is after leaving them alone for a few seconds.  Everything piled in the crib.  The picture doesn't do justice.  The room was a hazard zone after they got done with it.  Fun times.  Goodbye clean house!

Crazy hair day for Penny!  Ruby wanted to participate too.  Why not?  Who doesn't want to take the time to braid a million braids in the morning??

I would braid a million braids for this smile.

 Millie participates in crazy hair every morning!

 We celebrated Fathers day!

Penny was a Saratoga Shark for 2 weeks before she graduated kindergarten!

Millie checking for weakness in the house.

Before Simon was born we got to visit the family cabin in Wildwood.  It was really hard to have so many littles so we didn't visit long.

 Ruby was in heaven having a best friend sister.

 Bookworms in the making

I celebrated my 31st birthday!

4th of July bbq with family

I've always loved dressing my kids up.  Kyle calls them my little dollies.  I did have lots of dolls as a child, so its only right for me to have lots of real life dollies.  Having more kids to doll up has NEVER been a burden.  I still love it!