Half-eaten Pizza and Water Puddles

There are sippy cups strewn throughout my home, tipped up on one end as they leak their contents onto my floor. Poor Caleb just slipped on one of these said "water puddles" and we got to enjoy a moment of drama from one of my very dramatic children, much weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth ensued. How is it that without even having time to absorb Jonathan and my own dramatic inclinations, they genetically just ARE dramatic, all on their own?!?!?!?! I mean, all 5 of them! 

Anyhow, I digress. The real focus on this little "rant" is my kitchen. I have had a migraine today, those usually don't come very often but it was a whopper. I was pretty much completely useless, laying around in fits of pain and nausea. Jonathan was a trooper and made a feast for lunch, two of them actually. Revamped pizza (he makes the frozen ones taste homemade) and thai lettuce wraps. Yum. I then had a nice little cat nap after lunch. Hey, wait a minute, I got my Sunday day of rest just a day late! But upon entering my kitchen this late afternoon, the sight that I behold is enough to make me want to pack up the kids and go for a long long drive. Preferably somewhere clean where meals are provided. Any takers?

You may think I am exaggerating, but I am going to lay down my pride and show you a little snapshot of my kitchen chaos at the moment. Brace yourselves:

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I guess now that I see it on this page, it isn't as bad as it is in my mind. But it is now 4:00 pm, I have NO plans for dinner (leftovers anyone?) I have whiny kids who I neglected all day while I recovered and top it all off with a house to clean. Lets not even mention the 8 loads of laundry that are waiting to be dealt with. The migraine is still reverberating  in my scalp and I would be perfectly content with taking this broken down body back to the sweet escape of my blankets. But alas, Jonathan is back and work and there is no one to tag team with me. So… what am I sitting around here for? 

I guess because when I see the to do list sitting in front of me, it always makes more sense to write about it than to actually do it. Procrastination at its finest people. 

Time to kick this butt into gear. ;) 

My Sunday Mistake

Today, I tried to have a nap. Why did I do that? With 5 kids you would think I had accepted the fact that those days are behind me. But in my everlasting state of exhaustion, I missed Sunday naps so bad today I couldn't resist the call of sweet sweet slumber. So I fed all the kids, got them watching a show, and poof! dreamland. It was epic, for the whole 10 minutes that it lasted. I was just breaking the surface of complete and total oblivion when "mom" collided with crying collided with "NO" at my door. With a sleeping night shift zombie beside me and a napping baby at the next door, I bounded out of bed a giant leap before my poor addled brain, to deal with the crisis at hand. After settling the drama, I forced myself to close the door to my room with a sense of finality accompanying the click and trudged to the kitchen. Here I sit, popping potty treat jelly beans like an addict to try to propel my lethargy to a general plateau of human existence. I don't even like these things! But its sugar or a giant pot of coffee, and Im sure the caffeine will not be appreciated in about 7 hours. The only thing that keeps resounding in my head is "WHY DID I DO THAT?!?!?!?!" Do I feel any better? NO! I feel worse, so so much worse. Tired beyond repair, frustrated, foggy, and just generally grumpy. The wrong side of the bed… I live over here right now. Who came up with that anyways? "Did you wake up one the wrong side of the bed???" Seriously, what is the RIGHT side? Because I can't seem to find it.  Every side I manage to clamber out of leaves me feeling incomplete, unrested, NOT READY to face the day. Deep breaths.

It's Sunday, the day of rest. Ha! My sour sense of humour mocks me with the reminder that with young children, it's really quite the opposite. Instead of staying in our pyjamas, doing school, relaxing all day. We have to wake up early, get everyone ready to go, pack up the van, show up late to church, try to keep everyone from becoming wild monkeys at the sight of other children to romp around with, just to pack them all back in and drive home. In a state of complete desperation everyone is hungry, tired, grumpy from a full week. No, Sunday is more like crazy day. I have tried to impose quiet time, put everyone downstairs, talk about how they need to stay down there. But when you put 4 kids in the same room, aged 2-7… who am I kidding?

The little angel on my shoulder reminds me that I went to church, listened to a nice sermon, I should be spiritually renewed and ready to face another week. But the OTHER me, the more skeptical, pessimistic side, laughs at the high hopes of a peaceful, encouraging Sunday. And reminds me that one day, in about 5-7 years, I can hope to have a relaxing Sunday come our way. Until then, buckle up my bootstraps, stop eating candy for pete's sake, and get going. Life doesn't stop for nothing around here, my biggest mistake was hoping for it.

From a jaded realist…. I truly hope that your Sunday has been more restful than mine. And if you have young children and your hubby is busy today: for heavens sake…. DON'T TRY TO NAP!!!! ;)

The Grand Finale

I have been putting off writing for some time simply because I am unsure of where to begin. It has been 6 1/2 months since our precious little addition was born and that is a lot of ground to cover. I have considered fast forwarding that time to the present and just moving on from here, but I feel like I need to lay to rest the situation you were following. Therefore, I will be reminiscing D-day today. So sit back with a cup of coffee… or maybe just skip ahead to the next post ;)

Jonathan and I left the kids on a Wednesday morning, stopped by RIH for my second steroid shot (OUCH!) and off we went, bound for Vancouver yet again (have I mentioned how thrilled I am that those trips are behind us?!?!?!). We arrived Wednesday night, got settled into our new "home" for the next little while and had a restless night. Thursday was prep day. We had to be at the hospital at 8am to find out where we would be going, to do the preparatory bloodwork, non-stress tests, etc. Once that was done, we had the rest of the day to walk around and managed to get in some pre-black friday deals at staples and old navy. Some retail therapy helped us keep our minds off the next morning and Jonathan had fun pushing me around in the wheelchair. But alas, the next day was soon approaching. So we had dinner before my fasting began, I made "if I die" letters for my kids, anointed with tear drops each one, and we tried to sleep.

It was an early morning, we had to be at the hospital at 7am for surgery, and I needed to use this special pre-surgical scrub. Determined not to look like a total hag, I did my hair all nice and we were ready to go. They brought me by myself to a prep room with about 6 other people in it. Here I waited for a while in my breezy little gown. Shivering as much from nerves as from the cold. Dreading what was to come and wishing Jonathan was there with me. I met my main anaesthesiologist, a student in her last year. She was so kind and understanding and spent a good 20 minutes just getting to know me as she began her preparations. (I had 2 other anaesthesiologists that were in the room BTW, so it wasn't just a student, she just had primary care of me). They started 2 IV's, which took some time, some hot packs, and some coaxing as my veins had shrivelled up in a state of wary protest. Jonathan joined me for the last 10 minutes and then we were separated once again as I was taken to the OR to begin the rest of the preparations. I was taken to a huge OR that was FILLED with equipment. There was at least 12 people in the room from nurses to the paediatrician, to the three anaesthesiologists, to the doctors, to the students, to the interventional radiologists, to the ultrasound technicians, etc. etc. etc. There were lights and carmeras and I was ready for action. Have you ever lain on a table shivering, cold, scared out of your whits, losing all facade of modesty, with cameras aimed on you at EVERY angle (yes, even the most awkward of ones), lights blaring? My arms were held down on each side as someone tried to get in an arterial line. This took about 10 separate attempts. They froze me first but HOLY SMOKES that hurt. Digging, trying, failing, bleeding, pressure pressure pressure, and try again. Meanwhile, down at my lower half, interventional radiology was having the opposite problem with my arteries in my groin. He was trying to insert balloons through my arteries there that would thread into the main arteries on either side of my uterus to cut off blood supply while they worked. Instead of the ten minutes we were advised, this took over an hour. They had to share ultrasound with the vexed anaesthesiologists poking and prodding my arms to try to find the right arteries, as my veins were so big he was putting it in the wrong area. More ultrasounds, x-rays, and jiggling needles later and I was strung like a bow. with tubes in my back (epidural), legs, both my arms, and FINALLY the production could begin.

Jonathan was called in, my stomach was swabbed with iodine, and I waited in total horror while they started cutting. Worst thing EVER. Hoping that the epidural is going to work well. *insert shudder*

Once it was started it wasn't so bad, it only took about 5 minutes until our screaming little peanut was out, and now the real work could begin. As soon as she was out, about 4 of my "attendants" dropped off to deal with her and everyone else got pretty serious. I hate how no one talks to you. I was trying to find out about the baby but they were trying to inflate the balloons, deal with anaesthesia as I was pretty uncomfortable, and try to remove the placenta as gently as they could. Within about two minutes, it was clear something was wrong from the tone of their voices. I was listening intently to what I could make out over the curtain, and it didn't sound good. Sure enough, a small portion of my placenta was attached and would not release. It was turning my entire uterus inside out in its attempt to expel it. I heard "what is happening? What is it doing?!!!!"and then my doctor popped her head over and said "ya, we're going to have to do the hysterectomy Rebecca". and that was that. Jonathan came over to say goodbye, I cried, and then asked them to put me out under GA so I wouldn't have to be awake for the rest. I woke up around noon in recovery, with the interventional radiologist coming to remove the balloons and put pressure, for 20 minutes! on the arteries so they wouldn't bleed.

All in all, I needed no blood which was a miracle in itself. In the end I was just happy to be alive, I had had my doubts. The worst was over, we had a healthy baby, and I couldn't be more thrilled. (fast forward to when the epidural wore off and it was a different tune I was singing ;) 

Now I look back on it all with a kind of resigned acceptance. I was, and still am if I admit it, pretty angry that it came to that. I question whether we should have tried to leave it in and see what would have happened. Then I remind myself my uterus was turning inside out, it probably would have been impossible to leave it in, but it doesn't stop the war in my mind. I know that 90 percent of you won't understand. You will look at my brood of 5 kids and think I am crazy for the fact that I am sad about it. But I wanted more, and I can say that once the baby high wore off, I have been pretty devastated by the surgery and I am still working through my "loss". As ridiculous as that may sound. 

So now, 6 1/2 months later, people ask me if we are done, and I finally have an answer. We are done. Our little family is complete. We may consider adoption down the road, but for now, we are just adjusting to the chaos that is 5. God has been so good to us. I am so thankful that we found out about this long before she was born so we could prepare ourselves both physically and mentally for what was to come. I am so thankful that I came home 10 days later with my healthy daughter. I feel totally normal and recovered now, though it was a long painful haul. And we are moving on with our life as a family of 7.

Im hoping to start writing again, especially in the fall once we are more into a routine. And now that this drama is behind us, it will hopefully resume its simple hilarity of everyday life. 

In other related news, I have been asked to head up an accreta awareness blood drive. This condition is so incredibly rare, but because of this, women often die. It is just not caught. Unlike my situation where we were prepared, we had blood there, a stocked OR, balloons in my arteries, etc. etc. A lot of women don't find out until it is too late. I had accreta with Aliyah, and I nearly died because we didn't know about it. I had increta with Janiah and we were prepared. As rare as the condition is, it is becoming more common due to the rising amount of C-sections (your risks increase after c-sections because the placenta adheres more tightly to the scar tissue). So I will be sharing my stories and heading up a blood drive on January 9, 2015 and I am pretty excited to be doing something so near and dear to my heart. So stay tuned for more details. 

D Day Approaches

4 days. 4 days until I say goodbye to my kiddos for who knows how long. Drive the long drive back to the coast, get set up in a hotel, and prepare for surgery. 6 days until I meet my baby. 6 days until I get tubes put into 6 different veins and arteries/locations in my body, a massive incision across my abdomen and my entire uterus removed from my body so that they can take out the baby and attempt to release my placenta. I will be awake for the procedure as long as there is no massive haemorrhaging or complications, in which case I will be put under general anaesthesia. Our little girl will be born at 34 + 3. Nearly 6 weeks early. My heart breaks for her. I am dreading the pain of the surgery, the recovery, the weird sensations and unknowns, being away from my kids, being away from my baby as she recovers in the NICU. This whole situation makes me want to run far away. I do so well in between appointments. You forget, you focus on something else, you try not to think about it. But here it is, right in front of me, and I could just cry myself a river. No bridge. No getting over it ;)

There is still so much to do. I am trying to set up rooms, set up beds. We are trying to have the kids stay here for as long as possible so they are in their own environment, which means having family come up and stay. I want everyone to be comfortable, and as close to routine as they can. This means an overhaul of my house, prepping meal plans so that whoever is watching them doesn't have to worry about anything. We still don't have our room set up for baby either, thats on tomorrow's agenda. Bringing in a dresser, clothes, change pad, etc. etc. etc. The list looms and I am so unmotivated. Then I feel guilty because the poor kids are watching way too much TV while we do all this work around the house and I just want to spend my last few days with them, having fun, making memories. Great, their last memory of me could be me yelling at them to go downstairs so I can clean the kitchen or go play in their rooms. Sigh.

The surgery is scheduled for 8am Friday, November 29th. I have to be at the hospital at 6:30 am for prep and pre-surgery (inserting the catheters/balloons, IV's, arterial lines, etc.) I am not sure how much we will be updating everyone that day as it just me and Jonathan. He'll be so busy just dealing with the baby and me. Ill try to get someone to update my Facebook page once we are a bit settled and on the maternity ward. Tonight, I do 10 loads of laundry, then have a long bath. Tomorrow is another day, with another list, and another opportunity to make the best of a day when I am healthy and feeling good. Those days will not be here for much longer. Prayers are much appreciated. For strength for this little one, that she does remarkably well and surprises everyone and comes home EARLY. That she is big and healthy and breathes on her own and doesn't need interventions and IVs. For me, that I have strength to say goodbye to my kids. To get done what I need to get done. For faith, for hope. With my history I doubt, I stress, I worry that everything is going to go wrong and I am going to die on that table. That everything would go smoothly and no "worst case scenarios" happen. And for Jonathan, that he would have the strength to go through this. My c-section with Malakai was so traumatic for him, Aliyah's birth and fearing I would die was hell to put him through. And now he is going to have to leave me, with our daughter, knowing that the hardest part is yet to come and he won't know what is going on. That God would just draw close to him and give him faith and peace.

This will likely be the last update until after D day, so keep a watch on our Facebook pages for more tidbits, or Sonia's or Jessica's. Thanks for reading, for your thoughts and encouragement and prayers.

31 weeks increta

This week has been one of my most challenging weeks. Mentally it is all just starting to sink in. This is happening. This is reality. I have three weeks until D-day. I don't feel ready. It feels surreal. We don't have any names, even a list made up. My house is destroyed, my to-do list still sitting on my fridge.

This week I have been sick, I have had horrible carpal tunnel and tennis elbow (in both of my arms), my back is so sore I can hardly move (something due to the way I sleep but no real way around that), constant 10 minute apart braxton hicks contractions that are increasingly painful, etc. I had an appointment on Monday which showed that my BP is doing fantastic. Good news! And I had my IV iron infusion this week. What should have been four hours turned into 8, so it was a long day. I had a reaction to the iron so they had to stop for a while, and give me Benadryl. They gave me a strong dose through my IV line and it was so excruciatingly painful. Within minutes all my veins were red and streaking up my arms and for two hours they were so sore. Then of course I was sleepy and drugged out, but stuck sitting in a chair for 8 hours, trying to sleep, trying to get comfortable. It was a sucky day and all I can say is that I am glad it is over.

Today I feel like I have been hit by a bus, all my muscles are so sore, my arm is bruised all the way up and throbbing, I feel weak and exhausted. The iron infusion still takes about a week to two to be converted into iron stores. So I won't feel any effects from the increase in hemoglobin for a while. In the meantime we are getting ready for our next round of appointments in Vancouver starting next week. We leave Monday for an MRI, anaesthetic consult, interventional radiology consult, ultrasound, and OB appt. My answering machine is filling up with nurses, doctors, hospitals calling to book me in for my surgery on the 29th. As long as all is well next week I will be home for one more week before heading back down for D-day. Pretty much that leaves me with less than two weeks at home. Jonathan and I are debating packing up the kids and running away in our trailer ;) It feels so strange to plan all this out, sign all your forms and consent to cut you open when you don't feel like there is anything wrong with you.

Needless to say, another week down, a few more weeks to go. I am keeping my eyes open for a laptop to take down with me. Something I can blog on, go on the internet, do my school reporting etc. Hopefully I won't be too out of the loop. We'll update everyone after all these appointments next week, we are hoping to be back on Thursday and should have a better idea of what is going on after the MRI. As always, your prayers are coveted as we tackle this home stretch. Caleb is having a really hard time with all of this. With me having surgery, needles, being away for so long. He gets very emotional whenever we talk about it and I am beginning to pray for strength for my kiddos as we enter this transitional time in our lives.

Until next time…

29 weeks

Here I sit, scarfing a bowl of cheerios after a 7 hour drive from vancouver (2 hours of that spent sitting on a back detour road and 1 stopped at a restaurant to eat, but still, AHHHH). I am exhausted, emotionally and physically. Driving at night was fine with the older kids but Aliyah was a wreck the whole way. No one slept, we got to the hotel and it was about 11 before anyone was sleeping. The next morning we packed up Aliyah (my younger brother Timothy stayed with the older kids) and rushed to the hospital for our ultrasound where we found out basically nothing. No change. I suppose that is good news, it means it is not getting any worse. Baby is healthy and growing like a weed, we even saw her little hair!

We got back to the hotel, Jonathan had an errand to run while I sat crocheting like a madwoman, trying to keep my hands busy and my brain from thinking. Then we packed everyone up and went to the doctors. At this point, my hip was completely out from our first walk to the hospital that morning and I was limping and in excruciating pain. SUPER fun. We found out that most likely the surgery is going to be on Nov. 29th or earlier. Especially due to the fact that it looks like I am getting preeclampsia again. My BP was up significantly at this appt. We talked a lot about what to expect, I begged to be in the hospital for as long as I can to be close to our baby so I can nurse more frequently. To which I was told I will be released once I am stable. Great.

We were up until nearly 2 am that night dealing with Malakai who has a bit of a cold right now. It only flares up at night at which point he starts the most irritating, loud, horrible cough every 5 seconds or so. After an hour both Jonathan and I were so done. He went for a 4 km jog to try to find a gas station with vicks (to no avail) and I sat with him for 20 minutes in a steam shower and gave him his inhaler. Eventually he calmed down enough to sleep and then next morning it was up and at em for our next round of appointments. Kids were done, I was done. We were so tired. Packing up as fast as we could we rushed out of Easter Seal to make our appt. in time. Upon arrival we discovered that parking at st. pauls costs about $4/30 minutes. WHAT????? So $15 dollars later, for just 2 hours of precious parking time, we were making our way in to meet with the social worker and a specialist.

We left Van. just before 11 and Jonathan went straight to work. Kids are in bed, jostling around like orangutans while I sit trying to jam everything in my head and make a semblance of peace with all the new information. I HATE these appointments. I hate driving downtown, I hate the screaming kids in the background while I am trying to meet with a doctor, or seeing the annoyed glares from people around me. I hate having to go live through this all when it hasn't even happened yet. I hate the cold uncomfortable room where I can't even sleep by my husband and how much money it is just to park, eat, and pay for gas/hotel. If I say "I don't want to do this" enough times, maybe it will come true? Right? The cafeteria at st. pauls was terrible, worst one I have seen yet, and the most expensive. Two little plates (and I mean little, few pieces of bacon for me and 1 tiny hashbrown, horrible horrible coffee and jonathan got oatmeal) was $20!!!!!! Financially this is a gong show, and when I think of all the procedures, in this city I can't stand, I just feel like running away.

SIGH.

I guess I have gone through this enough to know that this is my process after each appt. I come back, I adjust, I process, I freak out, it takes me a week to take it all in. But then it all settles down and I go back to reality. So heres my reality. I have 2 1/2 weeks. 2 1/2 weeks to decorate for Christmas, buy a car seat and figure out where baby is going to go, pack my hospital bag, and enough stuff for a month and a half, do what I want to do for school with the kids, get my house organized, etc. In these few weeks I will have numerous doctors appointments in Kamloops, IV iron infusions possibly as many as one per week to get my iron up (nothing else is working) and checks on my BP/bloodwork. IF I make it that time without pre-eclampsia getting too bad, I go back for another round of appointments. MRI, u/s, interventional radiology (balloons in my uterine arteries), anaesthesiologiest, etc. At this point, if BP is still high, I won't be coming home. They will want me closer to Vancouver so they can keep an eye on my condition. I have no idea what we will do about that. If Jonathan can get off work and stay home with the kids, then I am by myself. With Malakai my BP got so bad so fast he didn't even make it in time for the induction. He wouldn't be there with me. I would be driving back and forth by myself in Vancouver. And it makes the time I am away from the kids from 2 weeks to more like 5.

I WANT to come to peace with this. I don't want the fear, the dread, the dilemma of this situation to consume me. But as the clock is ticking by, I don't know how to even do that. "Dont stress" about all I have to do in the next few days is easy to say, but it has to be done, and I have to do it. So its also a completely irrational thing to expect. I will stress. "Don't overthink it" seems ridiculous to me, because if I don't think and plan now for child care, our options, booking Jonathan off work, etc. Then we will be screwed. Time is short, thinking and planning must take place. I want to accept that the baby will be in NICU, that I won't be able to sleep by her, that there is no possible way I will be able to nurse her around the clock once they discharge me and I can't make it back and forth from hotels to the hospital every couple of hours. But the idea of going through the whole situation with Malakai again, worse, and for longer... is so overwhelming to me. It was without a doubt the worst 2 weeks of my life. And having to just "give in", go "visit" my baby instead of taking care of her every need makes me want to scream. It isn't supposed to be this way. And if it has to be this way, let me stay with my baby!!!!! Deep breaths.

I know, I know, the Sunday school response is burning on your lips "God is in control".  And I know that. But when everything is so out of my control, I feel like I can't plan for anything. Needless to say, I am going to have to assume the worst, that I have 2 1/2 weeks to get everything done. That means I need to figure out what we need for baby, find a bassinet or co-sleeper and car seat, get organized. And pray that God gives me peace. I think hoping for a miracle at this point will be the death of me, better I just accept and come to terms with the morbid reality of this situation and then I can be pleasantly surprised by twists and turns in the road.

If you are praying for us, please pray that we can get everything done. That Jonathan can get off work and be with the kids, that God helps us financially (may our van get EXTRA good mileage :), that both Jonathan and I can come to terms with everything that is happening and feel peace, I need some peace. That the IV iron infusion isn't horrible (usually takes about 8 tries to get an IV in me with much bleeding and bruising and pain) and my iron is up so I am in the best shape possible for this procedure, and that baby will be extra strong and big and ready so that we can both be released at the same time. Oh, and NO vertical incision. We are really praying that the one cut is enough just considering how long it took my other incision to heal. I may never wear another pair of button/zip pants again people... ;) Thanks for reading my long vent session, your prayers are coveted and appreciated.

28 weeks

At Mission Creek Park with the Kids this weekend

Yesterday marked the 28 week mark for me. I am in my third trimester now and starting to feel it. Bending is becoming so uncomfortable, sleeping seems infinitely more difficult, cramps, braxton hicks all day long, leg cramps and varicose veins. This is Jonathan's favorite part of pregnancy. The immersion of "big bertha". He loves me lumbering through the house, plopping down unceremoniously on the bed and trying to get comfortable, unable to put my socks on without about 5 attempts. It is the part he will miss the most and I think he is starting to get nostalgic that this is the last time I will be like this. As am I. Despite the discomfort, I too love the big belly stage. The baby is SO active, rolling, punching, kicking. Starting to take my breath away at times and it is so comforting feeling her steady, rythmic movements inside me. My own personal little friend that no one else gets to know or have. It is such a special time and processing the ending to this stage in my life is sad.

We have been so encouraged with my BP lately. After my last appointment we were sure pre-eclampsia was on its way, but it has gone down and held steady this last week and we are hopeful that it was just a fluke week related to hormones or something causing the rise. Otherwise I feel fine. Tired, exhausted even, but fine. We are mentally preparing for our appointment on Monday down in Vancouver and now it looks like we will have to stay until Tuesday to fit in an appointment on Tuesday morning. As always, my list of questions is growing and we are looking forward to seeing the ultrasound again to find out of the placenta is holding its position or growing through the wall. I will post again next week once we know a bit more. Surgeries are being booked, our team of medical professionals is coming together, and apparently we are the talk of St. Paul's right now as everyone discusses my case and makes a plan for the surgery. It feels a little weird to be such a rarity and all I can do is hope and pray that despite the lack of information, knowledge, and experience in these cases... God knows my body and he is in control.

Deep breaths. A cup of coffee. And then try not to think about it too much. This is my coping mechanism at this point.

The kids asked me the other day when the baby would be coming, it felt so weird to tell them "in about 45 sleeps". Praying that everything goes smoothly and baby is out of NICU as SOON as possible. I can't imagine driving back and forth to see her every few hours. With Malakai they booted me out after a week and I was in so much pain still. Trying to drive back and forth, the exhaustion. I was SO determined to nurse him every three hours first and then let them tube feed him. I wanted him to master nursing as soon as possible so that we could go. I can't forget the depression, the exhaustion. Trying to do that in Vancouver, possibly by myself if Jonathan has to come back for kids. AHHHH!

So for this morning, I plan appointments, I book hotels, I try to clean my house and fit in a day of school. And I try to rest in the peace that God will work out all the details I can't plan for. That he has a plan and a purpose for me and for our family.

Happy 4-day week my friends!