Mixed emotions

This is not a blog about same sex marriage. Well at least that isn't my intention.

Not only do I have mixed emotions right now but I have LOTS of them. So bear with me....


If you know me you know I love my kiddos. Like REALLY love them. I also really LIKE them. They are fantastically amazing human beings that bring beauty and joy to this world but especially to me.  

I know it's a natural mothering reaction to want to kill anyone that hurts our babies. It's simply the mama bear, mama lion, whatever you want to call it instinct. If you are a mother you are nodding your head right about now because you know.  And if you have ever witnessed it, I hope it wasn't on the receiving end.  What you all may not know is that - at least for me - this instinct goes both ways. Meaning, when someone is kind and loving towards one of my babies my heart melts and I have an instinctual love for them. (usually)

I could make a list of the humans that have been on the receiving end of this mama bear love, and I just may do that someday. But today I am thinking about a couple of dear souls that entered my Sara's life about a year ago.

This could become a big or little box story (only my kids will get that) so I will try to not make this too long of a story.  

Sara started a new job and after her first day of training I asked her if she made any friends. She said that this gorgeous girl walked into class and Sara was sure they would either be best friends or enemies. (most women will understand that feeling) I don't recall if it was that same day but very soon Sara said something like "I found out she is a lesbian so there is no competition issue so we are going to be best friends." Sara soon met Jess's fiance, Jamie, who also worked there and they all became fast friends.

Cut to the controversial stuff----  I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I believe that marriage is a sacred union between a man and a woman. And I believe that same sex attraction is a challenge for all involved. I do not believe that the attraction is a sin but acting on it is because I do believe that sexual relations outside of marriage is a sin. THAT BEING SAID.... I have sinned. In more ways than just this. And I know my neighbor has in some form or another. And my family all has. We are not on this earth to be perfect, but we are supposed to try.  But we are a world full of sinners. Period.  And it is not my place to judge what should happen to any of us that sin. What it boils down to for me is this... I thank heavens that I don't have to agree with everything a person says, does, or believes in order to LOVE them.  If I did, I would have a very lonely life.  

I have quite a few gay and lesbian friends. People that I sincerely love and choose to have in my life.  I could be wrong but I don't think anything I say here will come as a surprise to any of them.  I'm not generally known as someone that keeps my feelings to myself.  

And let me address this concept. I am a "good" Mormon. That discussion gets thrown about a lot. "But you're not a 'good" Mormon, Shelly." Yep. I am. Garment clad. Temple recommend holding. I am what would be considered "good" by any standard. Sadly what usually comes next is "Ok... but you aren't one of 'those' Mormons."  When I dared to ask what "those" Mormons are I was told... judgmental. Hateful. Just all kinds of shades of judgey.  Ok... you are right. I am not one of THOSE. But neither are a whole lot of the rest of 'them". This is sincerely a situation where a few rotten apples have spoiled the bunch.  But I am not hear to speak for the bunch.  That isn't my place. I will direct you to check the website www.lds.org for the OFFICIAL stance on this and other issues.  If individual members of the Church choose to interpret or live differently, it is their life to live.

This brings me to a HOT topic I may address more fully at another time.  Same sex marriage.

Cut back to Jess and Jamie.  These girls love my daughter and bring happiness to her life. So guess what? I LOVE THEM. And that means I hope they are happy.  (Refer back to my comment about not needing to agree with a person's choices in order to love them)

Jess and Jamie are not the couple I taught my children about when I taught them about temple marriage. But they have taught my children something. They have shown us all a great example of love.  And so when they were married this past weekend, we were there to celebrate with them.  We cried when Jess walked down the aisle. We cried during their first dance. (Ok...Hunter didn't... but us girls were BAWLING) We brought a gift. We danced with them at the reception. And we congratulated them with hugs and kisses.  Because we love them. Period. It's really simple actually.

I made the choice several weeks ago to not post photos and make a big deal of this 'good' Mormon lady attending a same sex wedding because it wasn't about me. It was their time. And I knew that I'd have comments. I knew it would become something I didn't want it to be.

I awoke this morning to news about the court's ruling, or lack thereof, which means that the legal part of Jess and Jamie's union is just that. Legal.  So there are the mixed emotions. I am happy for them. Period.  Does it change my own belief about same sex marriages. Nope. And I am happy to explain that to anyone that doesn't get it.  And perhaps write about it at a future date.  But today I am grateful that the maid of honor Sara gets a chance to rest. And hope that my extra daughters Jess & Jamie are thoroughly enjoying their honeymoon. 

We would all be lucky to find love like theirs.


My favorite thing in this post will be some of my favorite moments from the wedding.

I wasn't going to write but....

Ugh.

When I started this blog I imagined writing in it AT LEAST once per week.  Hahaha.... pretty laughable.


It pops up on my to do list every week. But like many other tasks on that list I gently just move it to another day.

When I saw it this week I thought to myself, heck.... I am too overwhelmed stressed  bummed tired.... excuses, excuses.  Then I told myself that since I would be hard pressed to find something positive to share with my "masses" I shouldn't write anything. Yet here I am. Should I list all the things that are overwhelming, stressing, bumming, and exhausting me?  Probably not.  Should I go downstairs and fix myself a brownie with ice cream and chocolate syrup and whipped cream? Also probably not.

I think I'll go hug my baby girl and then go sit in my sun room and watch for birds to enjoy my new bird feeder.

My baby

She has dubbed herself "The Golden Child".

Becca Erin. She was supposed to be Becca Elysse but she decided to make her appearance on St. Patrick's Day so I felt like we should commemorate that somehow.

Let me back up....

In my last post I talked about some of the thoughts I had while alone in the hospital with my new son, Hunter. One thought/feeling I had was one of peace and contentment. I translated that feeling into our family being complete. I hadn't imagined having "only" three children but I felt so content that I assumed that was the case.  So we decided Matt would get "fixed".

Literally the night before the procedure I had a vivid dream. Don't laugh... I have very crazy dreams anyway... like movies. In this one, I was being herded along a path with other hostages by some foreign military types. I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye, glanced over, and it was a BABY, laying face down in the dirt. But obviously alive. I turned to our captor and asked if I could go pick it up. He said no. I begged, pleaded, and he still said no.  I woke up.  Then I woke Matt up and told him his procedure would have to wait. Perhaps just a crazy dream but I couldn't ignore it.

We spent the next several months praying, fasting, praying, pondering, and praying some more. We just were not getting any clear answers. So finally we threw our hands up and said let's just not do anything to prevent another baby for 3 months and see what happens.  I must admit I felt a little sense of relief when we were approaching our deadline and nothing had happened. That lasted a few days until the tell-tale signs of pregnancy showed up. But there ya go... we had our answer.

Keep in mind, at this point I had a busy 5 year old very ready to start kindergarten, a feisty 3 year old starting preschool, and an 18 month old that was thankfully pretty easy on me.

After 32ish weeks, Becca apparently felt ready to join us. After stopping labor 4 times, we were just shy of 37 weeks so the doctor told me to come on in.  March 17, 1998.

I sometimes feel bad for babies in large-ish families. I was so busy I didn't soak in the newness of this one as fully as the others.  But I did realize that this was FOR SURE our last. So I let myself soak that in. I rocked her to sleep every. single. time. And I didn't rush her into crawling, walking, etc.

Molly loved the baby but had so much to do now that she was going to school.  Sara was too busy idolizing Molly to be too into the new sister. Hunter was just too boy to care. So Becca grew into a child that was very content playing by herself.  And like most youngest children, she has the fewest photos and such.

As children, she was literally terrorized by her brother Hunter. He took great pride in his ability to take her from zero to screaming in milliseconds. It only took her about 14 years to grasp the idea of laughing with/at him and at least acting like he didn't bother her. So fun to hear her now say "I can't wait to see Hunter!"

Becca was only 9 when the divorce happened. She just wanted to love both her parents and see them both. She had no way of understanding some of the things that had gone on and that went on during the ugliest of it all.

Becca was always the "cute" sister.  Who doesn't love her fantastic freckles? And she was the only one that got a touch of her Gramma Sharon's strawberry blonde hair. She has such gorgeous and stylish older sisters to follow. She has done it with her own unique flair. And as she grows through her teen years I see that she won't always be the cutsie little sister. She is becoming a beautiful young woman... that still has fantastic freckles!  She often reminds me of her oldest sister Molly, with her facial expressions and mannerisms. She shares clothes with her other sister Sara but makes the outfits all her own.  And some days she seems to love that she is the baby. But some days she seems hate it.

Poor thing is stuck home as the only kid left.  She is forced into spending more time with her parents and (eek) step-parents than I am sure she wants to.  She told me the other day that I am her best friend. What more could a mother want? Especially from her 16 year old.

Becca is a planner. She always had her birthday party planned about 11 months ahead of time. She knows how many children she wants to have and what their names will be.  She wants to own a bakery.  She's been known to get a little flustered when her vision and plans don't fall into place but she is getting better at that. Nothing wrong with plans goals though.  I can't wait to see them come to fruition.  And even if she has more lessons in letting go of the vision and going with the flow... I have no doubt she will handle it all beautifully.

My "golden child". ;)

My favorite boy

In the spring of 1995 we had just moved back to California from Colorado and we had another "surprise" baby on the way. The other "surprise" happened when we moved to Colorado so we decided we probably shouldn't move to another state for awhile. It took awhile for things to settle in for me but about the time it did, we found out that our surprise was also a BOY! Surprise!  After two princess girlie girls... I was excited for the new challenge.

Have you ever seen this... ?



So true. I was NOT expecting the level and consistency of noise. Neither were his sisters. And the dirt, grime, etc.... EWWWWW! (the "etc" was the worst)

With no further adieu... let me introduce to you... Matthew Hunter Crabtree!



I will interject here that my gorgeous eldest Amelia is expecting her third baby and we recently found out that it is indeed a BOY! YAY! However, the newest Hartzell youngen's gender has not been received well by his sisters. Funny to me because it is so exactly like how Molly herself responded to the news of a brother. But we all certainly adore "Bubba" now. (What his adoring nieces call him)


As I ponder what more to say about my boy, I have decided some of my thoughts need to be their own separate blog post.  Let's suffice to say boys are just different.  The way you feel about them, the way they feel about you, the dirt, their thought process, the noise, and the RESPONSIBILITY.

I'm going to assume, perhaps unfairly, that this feeling of responsibility may be unique to Latter Day Saint mothers.  But I vividly recall sitting in my hospital room, alone with MY SON, looking at him and thinking "I am holding a future priesthood holder. A future missionary. A future gentleman (we hope). A future husband. How on earth will I teach him how to be all these things? But thank you Lord for giving me this opportunity."

Luckily Hunter was an extremely easy baby so I had some peaceful moments over the next several months to let all that sink in.  And about that easy baby stuff, I have a theory that our third babies are easy so we won't call it all quits. I have met several people that were ready to give up after their 2nd and thought they'd give it ONE MORE CHANCE, only to have angel 3rd babies that make us forget how hard it was.

Hunter was a typical little boy with sisters. Meaning he was dirty- A LOT - and destructive while also being a great problem solver, but would also cry because he wanted his nails painted as well.  He wanted nothing more than to be like his daddy.  He went through a tantrum stage at about 3 that we have documented well with photos.  He was a picky eater but that thoroughly disappeared by his teens.  He was always the teacher's pet. ALWAYS.  And he was adored by all the ladies in the house.  Well, except for his little sister who he took great pride in being able to infuriate to a screaming state within seconds. I think we are finally, barely out of that stage.

Even before the divorce, daddy traveled a lot and would remind Hunter that he was the "man of the house" when he was not there.  One night I was up late and Hunter was with me and trying to keep his eyes open. When I asked him why he didn't just go to bed he said "Because I need to check the windows and doors before I can go to bed."  My heart did a huge "Awwwww" and I assured him I could do it that one time so he could just fall asleep.  (He was about TEN at the time).

Then came the rough spot. "the divorce"  I've learned that there is no way for me to know how it truly affected and continues to affect my babies.  We each had our own sadness and grief to deal with.  But Hunter was at a very pivotal time in a LDS boy's life. He was ready to receive the Aaronic Priesthood (if any of this brings up questions feel free to ask!).  He was ordained by a good family friend and we had many other friends there to share the day.  Such a sweet spirit was in our home that day.  And Hunter continued to be the "man of the house".

I should for time sake but I cannot leave out a great story from about that time.  It was Christmas. One of my favorite things is having lights on the house. But we were suddenly a family with the only man being a almost 12 year old.  However, my sweet boy came to me and said he could do the lights himself. He had "helped" dad many times so he had it all under control.  What's a mom to say?  But I shared my concern with our home teacher Eric Roweton and he said he had an idea. So the day Hunter had planned to hang the lights, Eric showed up. Only to bring a ladder in case Hunter needed it.  And hung around just in case Hunter needed him to hold something for him or some other easy task.  Low and behold, with his "helper", Hunter got the lights up and working quite well.  He was very proud of himself. And so was his mama.

Hunter's teens have been challenging for me.  After we moved to Utah he decided he wanted to go back and live with his dad in California during high school.  I had my concerns but his dad is a good dad and Hunter has turned out quite well.

Here we are, less than a month before my boy graduates from high school and is officially a "grown up".  I can't believe it. It can't have been 18 years since I sat with that baby in my arms.  But alas, it is true.  I couldn't be more proud of who he is.  His sisters insist he is my "favorite" but moms know we don't have favorites. As I already mentioned, and promised a separate post on, boys are just different. Our relationship is simple. If he is mad at me it lasts about 90 seconds and we are over it.  Well... except for one patch where a crazy girlfriend was involved... but I digress.  The boy can't wait to graduate and get on with life. He has chosen to attend the University of Utah (GO UTES!) which will bring him back to Utah and closer to mom.  We even get a good 6 weeks with him here this summer before he moves into the dorm. And we are over the moon excited.  Even his little sister. Which indicates great progress.  He's a smarty pants. As of now planning to be an attorney. And he is truly a gentleman. He shows his sisters what they should look for in a man.  And best of all... he loves his mommy!


Yikes... I almost forgot photos!

BUBBA!

Water polo stud.

Our Halloween attempt at reenacting "300"

(totally Hunter's idea)

Fibromyalgia? REALLY? Karma... you really outdid yourself this time.

It's official. I have fibromyalgia.

What?

Are you SURE?  I mean we checked for all kinds of stuff... MS, Lupus, Rheumatoid Arthritis... not that I would prefer any of those. But at least they are "real" conditions.  I would never give anyone a funny look or think they were just a hypochondriac if they told me they had one of those conditions.

Now the battle within ensues.

The first time I heard the word FIBROMYALGIA was when I was in high school.  I knew someone well that I considered to be a hypochondriac. But she let me know that she had this crazy syndrome that just made you hurt all the time and tired all the time. No one knew why. No one knew what to do about it. Yada, yada, yada.

(Skip ahead if you'd like. I'm going to include a lot of detail. Just in case it might help someone else)

Fast forward a few years.  I've tried to place when this may have started but who knows. I do remember one day when my children were small- small enough that I was still cleaning their rooms for them- I was cleaning Molly & Sara's room. I had spent a lot of time on the floor sorting their stupid Polly Pocket stuff. (I hated that stuff- almost worse than Legos) Later that evening my knee was aching. A LOT. And it got worse and worse over a few days so I went to the doctor. I do legitimately have an issue with my foot arches that cause knee issues but I don't remember my knee(s) ever not hurting from that point forward. I have braces, shoe inserts, etc. I've gone to physical therapy. On and on.  In the past few years even my ankles and hips have been hurting. Sometimes aching so badly that it wakes me up.  I thought this all had to do with my dumb feet.

On a separate note (or so I thought) I've had (again since my children were small) odd spots on my body that hurt VERY bad if anyone pushes on them. I'm talking just a normal poke to the ribs is terribly painful. I just chalked this up to me being sort of an odd duck and lived with it.

Several years ago I started feeling overly fatigued. I had started an anxiety medication about the same time so assumed that was why.  I also knew I needed to eat better and lose weight so I blamed most of all of this on those issues.  But lately I have been dang tired. I can literally lay down at any point in the day and sleep for hours. However, I have insomnia at night. Even if I make myself get up early and not sleep during the day. It's very annoying.

Finally, the "brain fog" I hear it is called. My kids have just been accusing me for years of having Alzheimer's. I heard once that hormonal imbalances caused forgetfulness so yeah... I had an excuse for that as well.

Several months ago the aches and pains got so bad it was hard to walk sometimes. If I sat for very long I was incredibly stiff when I got up and moving was painful.  I had been taking over the counter anti-imflammatories like mints for years.  But I thought I'd ask my doctor for something stronger.  So he gave me something. I took it for a couple of months and nothing.  So we tried something else and did some blood work.  It showed that my body had a high level of inflammation but I was having sinus surgery soon so he thought we should address it after my recovery and see if there was improvement. But the new meds also didn't work.  I visited him last week and we did more blood work but we also had a nice conversation.  I brought up that "F" word. I asked him if fibromyalgia is real.  He chuckled a little bit and said "I want to show you something."  He turned his computer screen around and showed a note from several visits ago. He had noted "Probably fibromyalgia."

Lame. I walked out in a daze. Lame because so what. People have surely gotten FAR worse news from their doctors.  But I was embarrassed. I didn't want to tell anyone. Certainly not my family whom I had indoctrinated to my 'fibromyalgia is fake' mantra.

No wonder! This explains so much. All the time that my ex-husband blamed me for being lazy and out of shape and why did I sleep so much? It made sense!  I could start letting go of a huge heap of my self-criticism.

But what if I've been right? What if it is fake?  

I know who would know. Dr. Oz.  If he believes in it... then it is OBVIOUSLY real. (insert only slight sarcasm here- he really is pretty cool)

http://www.doctoroz.com/episode/disease-doctors-miss-most-fibromyalgia

Again... wow.

Now what?  I tell David. While he's at work and just kind of busy. Then I tell my kids. NO. REACTION. WHATSOEVER. FROM. ANYONE.

Ummmm.... helllloooo... I just told you gusy I have the "disease doctors miss most". 

But I don't freak out. I call my BFF Amy and whine that no one cared. I get the perfect amount of "oh sweetie... I am soooo sorry" that only BFF's know how to dish out.

In the mix of all this I panic a bit. I recall a time when I was pregnant and was tired, of course. But at my doctor's appointment he freaks out about my iron levels and says "How did you not know? Haven't you been exhausted?" As soon as he said that I felt REALLY tired. I could barely drive home.  Nothing had changed. Except I knew I was supposed to be tired.  So I stopped pushing through and making myself believe I was fine.  What if that happened now? I had to make sure it didn't. I had the power. Right?

I'm still sad at this point that I got zero sympathy from my family.  So I get on the internet. I literally search "my mom has fibromyalgia" and "my wife has fibromyalgia". Try it. Fun reading. Everything I came across was something about the mom/wife laying on the couch all day and doing nothing and the family was trying to be helpful but had enough.  Yikes.

Let's remember. Nothing had changed. Except I had new knowledge. And new meds!!  And they were working!!  Apparently this confirmed the diagnosis. Along with the further test results that ruled out everything else.

So I gently mentioned to my family that I was saddened by their reactions- or lack thereof. They pointed out that it was ME that had told them that the diagnosis I was just given was not a real thing. And they apologized and asked what they can do.  


The update is that the meds are working. I don't have to take a hot bath every night just so I can fall asleep. The fatigue has not changed much though.  And I need to learn my limits.  Went to City Creek with my girls one night including standing in line at Cheesecake Factory for 50 minutes- I could barely walk to the car.  But at least now I know why.

And my apologies to everyone I judged when they said they had fibromyalgia.