I’m sitting in my dark bedroom relying on my laptop battery to make it as long as I can feel this tonight. It’s been one of those days, where everyone is sick and grumpy and we haven’t left the house and its getting close to bed time and I have to go back
  to work tomorrow. Weekends are slipping away too fast lately, it seems like we go to football, clean up the house, go to church and maybe catch a show or two on TV.  It really makes me miss staying home.  But thinking of staying home makes me think of feelings that I am afraid of…

I had made it through the physical part of the miscarriage.  I was on the uphill climb of things but I was at the base of Everest. With no experience in rock climbing. And no rope to reach the summit. It’s a pretty tough thing to lose 5 pints of blood.  When you donate blood, they take 1 and they tell you to take it easy for a few days and won’t let you donate for 30 days after that.  So losing 5 in a matter of 10 days takes a toll on your body.  A big one. 

   
Walking up and down the stairs was enormously difficult. Washing the dishes was now a three part job: unload the dishwasher, rest for 20 minutes, rinse off the dishes, rest for 20 minutes, load the dishwasher, rest for 20 minutes.  Anyone who knows me knows that I am not the kind of person who sits around and watches TV for the majority of the day (unless it’s Greys Anatomy) but I found myself sitting and watching TV for more than ¾ of my day. It only took about 2 days of watching pointless TV shows for me to lose it and beg Kevin to take me to Wal-Mart (I was not allowed to drive for 2 weeks) to get something I could do while recovering. He kept telling me to give him a list and he would get it for me, but I think the going part was what I wanted most. I just needed to get out of the house for a while.  So reluctantly he took me.  I think I picked up 5 or 6 things of yarn for crocheting and some fabric  for sewing and, of course, any and every high iron food that was known to man.  We were there for about 15
minutes and I was toast. I was spinney and lightheaded and out of breath and exhausted.  We could walk about the length of one isle and I had to stop for a few minutes.  Kevin was not happy with me; this is why he wanted me to stay home.   We made it back home and I ended up falling asleep at about 7 pm that night.  But at least I had some things to do for the upcoming days. 

 I had a thought-likely from an angel who needed a little earthly help- to make a scarf for my mom.  A bright pink one, with a
heart charm sewn into it.  It was a hug for my mom from Baby Sister.  It felt inspired.  And then I went crazy making hats, I think I made half a dozen of them all kinds of different patterns.  I then I moved on to head band type ear warmers.  Half a dozen of those.   It was a low energy activity that I could do and still feel like I was accomplishing something.  My mom came down about a week into recovery;  she had not seen me since the funeral and the first thing she said was that I had no color in my face at all.  It wasn’t the first time that I had heard that.  It was true,too. I would put my make on in the morning and it wouldchange the color of my face rather than blend with the color of my face. My lips were pale and my eyes were sunken in. I looked like  a zombie.

The physical limitations that I had were just a constant reminder of what I lost.   I wanted to get out and do something, but walking to get in my car was too much for me to handle.  It was as if something was forcing me to stay cooped up in my house and feel what I was trying so hard not to feel.   I would get really down and have the urge to leave, to actually physically leave
those feelings and get my mind on something else.  Then 15 steps out my door I was exhausted and knew that I had to go back
in. It was torture.  

Low iron has a side effect of depression, that mixed with actual depression from losing my baby was putting me into a pit.  There were a few days that I would sit around and feel it, days that I would push it away and days that I would refocus it into something else.  More times than not I would refocus it into planning for the next pregnancy. I researched reasons people had multiple miscarriages and see if there was any similarities to mine.  I would look up anemia signs and symptoms and see what whoever had a keyboard was doing to combatting them. I made appointments to see doctors and specialists and took supplements and pretty much tried witch craft. I was filling my hole.  I could deal with this hurt and loss if I had a hope of a new baby.  That was my answer: get pregnant again.  


So I went to a specialist; one that my doctor recommended to me.  I think the first time I saw him was the day before Thanksgiving.   I walked in to a waiting room filled with pregnant people, very pregnant people and I hated every one of
them.  Instantly.  They were what I wanted to be.   Well, maybe this was a good sign- if there were so many pregnant people in his waiting room then surely he has good success.  I finally got called back to a room after about 30 minutes of waiting. Then waited for another 30 minutes to finally meet the doctor. He seemed nice; soft spoken, empathetic, took a very detailed history. 
Then told me where we go from here: first a physical exam, then an ultrasound, then after a month of being off birth control, blood work. Then we meet again and discuss diagnosis and treatment.  Okay; 40 days and we will have a solution. Doable.  
Reachable.  The end might just be in sight.  


The physical exam shows nothing, which he thought it might since I had 3 successful pregnancies. The ultrasound found a few rather large cysts, but I had been dealing with those since I had Anderson, so it was nothing new.  One in particular was actually larger than my ovary, which the tech thought was a little alarming, but nothing that would cause a miscarriage. Then we make it the whole month and go in for the blood work. I was finally off the severely anemic list and moved to the just anemic list…until they took the 7 tubes of blood for the multiple blood tests they needed to run. But it was alright this time. We are getting answers. We were almost to the summit. Now I just need to wait for the nurse to call me to schedule my follow up appointment after they got the test results back.  

  Meanwhile, an opportunity looms.  A very good friend of mine calls me one day, right around Christmas and tells me that there is an opening at her work for a part time temp in the mortgage department of UCCU.  I really hadn’t thought about going to work; 
getting pregnant was my goal.  Work would put a definite kink in my plans.  But it was just a temporary job and we could use a few extra dollars. So I talk to Kevin about it and he thinks it will be good. So I apply.  I really don’t think I am going to get this job.  I have no experience, haven’t really worked outside of running our construction company for the past 10 years.  I am anything but
qualified for this job.  But hey, I’ll take a shot I the dark. I get called in for an interview; I think mostly in part from my friend talking me up.  I am certain after meeting with them that I will be placed in the “never going to hire pile.” But it sure would be nice to have a distraction. 


  A few days after Christmas I get a call;  I’m hired.  I’m also in a bit of shock. Did I hear that right? Did she really just say that she would like to offer me a job?  Yup. Starting at the first of the new year. Right when the kids go back to school. There is a little bit of excitement mixed in with a whole bunch of stress.  I can do this. It will be fun, challenging; most importantly it will be more adult conversation than I could dream of.  It took my mind off of pregnancy and miscarriage and anemia. And that was good. 


About two weeks into my new job, I came home one day and had a nagging pain in my abdomen.  One that I knew all too well.  That huge cyst was bursting. I was in for a few hours of awful pain, it was about 8:30, the kids were getting ready for bed, Kevin was out in the garage working, I just figured I would take a pain pill, get the kids in bed and go to sleep myself.  I walked downstairs to get the kids moving and it got much worse than any other time and came on much faster than I remember too.  I was hunched over in pain. I grabbed my meds, swallowed it down and told Logan to go get dad. I managed to make it back up the stairs and got into bed and that was it for me.  This was way worse than I remember, but the ultrasound did show that it was larger than my ovary, so that must be why.  Kevin came in, made sure I was okay and then put got all the kids in bed and went back out to work. The pain pill knocked me out and the next morning I woke up feeling just as I always had; a little achy, but I was fine. I went to work and didn’t think twice about it. Until 2 weeks after that. It was time for my cycle and it came on strong and hard. Pretty unusual for me.  It wasn’t until I was passing pretty big size clots that I put the two together: I was miscarrying again.  Just like the first one I had that was suspected as an ectopic pregnancy. I called my doctor on my way to work and made an appointment for that afternoon. I was going on day 8 of bleeding, which was not normal for me either.  I got to my doctor’s
appointment, told him what I thought was going on, ran a few tests and got confirmation.  My doctor asked what the specialist said about the problem, which reminded me that he had not actually told me anything.  He told me that he needed to see me the next day to run an iron test  to see where my levels were and also ensured me that he would tell the specialist to contact me.  

  I went in the next day to get an iron test and it as dropping, but not dangerously yet.  He asked what the specialist said and I  told him that he still had not called me. I have been going to this doctor for 11 years now. He delivered all three of my babies,  and was the doctor for all three of my babies, I saw him enough that when I called to make an appointment, the nurses recognized my voice.  In all the times that I had seen him, I have never seen him mad. Until now.   He said that he called the specialist and that the specialist told him that he would call me right away to discuss my test results.  He had me stand there for a few minutes while he sent an email to him. It was promptly after that when the specialist called me.  They fit me into their schedule for the next day.  When I made it to that appointment, I could tell that he was not happy about seeing me.  He was cold and very matter of fact. He told me that the tests revealed nothing unusual. He said that I had one hormone level that was low but still within the normal range.  He said that he had no advice to give me to get pregnant and stay pregnant.  He didn’t seem like the same specialist that I saw 2 months before that.  I left feeling more hopeless than that morning in October.  I had to go
back to work that afternoon to finish a few things up; which was probably a good thing because I had to keep it together.  And by the time I got home the 5 alarm fire had turned into smoldering ashes.  


I went back into my regular doctor a week later to get another iron check and told him that I did not want to see the specialist any more, and if he felt comfortable with it I would like to just see him about the solution.  He told me that he would consult the OB’s within their practice and we would come up with something.  He gave me a call a few days later and told me that he wanted me to try taking a baby aspirin and drinking a caffeinated drink each day to thin my blood because there is a suspicion that my blood may be too thick and creating clots, cutting the blood flow off to the fetus and causing me to miscarry. And he  recommended to reduce any stress that I could.  It was something; and I needed something. So I ran with it.  


By now it was February,  I was an aspirin popping, Pepsi drinking Happy-to-see-my-husband kind of girl, if you get my point. My hole had grown just a little bit and I was trying desperately to fill it. With anything and everything.  I started on this house decorating thing. Started making table runners and wreaths for every month of the year- and if you know me, you know that I am
not at all the kind of person that does that.  I started putting my eye on family size cars.  Ones that made room for the baby I was certain that I was going to have.  I started tucking money away for an extravagant vacation that was going to make the summer a great one. I started timing things like ”if I got pregnant this month, I would have a baby in November”


 That hole was nuisance and I wanted it gone.  I just needed one thing to fill it. Anything.  It was overwhelming me, sneaking its way into everything in my life. People would tell  me that they were pregnant and I wasn’t happy. I hated them a little bit.  I would see babies, adorable babies, babies that normally I wanted to pick up and snuggle and squish and I wanted nothing to do with them.  They were what I didn’t have. The hole had to go.  A month passed; no luck. Two months passed, nothing.  Time  to reduce stress.  Maybe that will be the trick.  So I do what I really don’t want to do and give notice to my bishop. I really loved being the primary president, but if I wanted a baby, then I knew I had to give something up.  It broke my heart a little, okay a lot. But I kept my eye on the prize: Squishy new baby.   May was coming and there was a replacement for me as primary president and a rekindled effort to get pregnant fast.  This was it.  I reduced stress, my blood is thinned out, I was no longer anemic, all signs point to go.  The sad day came that I was released and all that energy that I put into primary was now put into baby making.  Kevin and I found that rare moment when there was no kids to interrupt and I told him all about the game plan.   His response: “This doesn’t feel right.  I don’t think that you should get pregnant right now.”


That hole, the one that was slowly getting filled is now taking over everything.  I don’t have anything to fill it with, I don’t know how to deal with it, I don’t want to feel it. Gaping wide and getting wider. Now what do I  do?       

This is the third time that I have sat down to write this entry and conveniently find something else to do on the internet.  I do not want to relive this day. I do not want to think of every detail and do not want to relive those emotions.  I hated this day. It crushed me. It changed me. It took parts of me that I am still trying to get back. I do not want to push through. Remembering it hurts. 


Eleven and a half weeks pregnant and I am bleeding. I had spotted a little bit with Anderson, but this was more than spotting. Its one of those moments when you bargain with reality and convince yourself that what you are seeing could not mean what you know it means. My heart just stopped. Completely.  I got on the phone with Kevin, who was at work and just blurted out after I heard a “hello” that I was bleeding.  He did as anyone would do and asked what does that mean and I said that I suspected I was
miscarrying.  I told him he needed to come home and take me to the ER.  Then I tried to call anyone in my presidency to take over the sharing time I was supposed to teach.  For about half a second I was contemplating still going to teach sharing time and
going to the ER after I taught, whatever was happening wasn’t going to be any different in three hours, but the stress of not knowing would make me so unfocused I knew I couldn’t do it.  It was only about 5 minutes before sacrament and the likelihood that I  was going to catch anyone still home was slim, but I still wanted to try. I called my second counselor, no answer. First counselor, got an answer. I quickly told her that I was bleeding and needed to go to the ER and asked if she could teach my sharing time.  She of course agreed and I told her I would leave everything outside my door for her. I made a few other phone calls to close friends to see if someone could take my kids so I wouldn’t have to take them with me and finally got someone to answer. My kind sister in law left in the middle of her own church after she heard the panic in my voice and ran down to get my kids from me. Kevin was still on his way home. It felt like time was standing still. I think I was in the mindset that if I got to the hospital quick enough that maybe something could be done to stop it. And was also trying to convince myself that maybe it was a sign of something good. Maybe it meant I was having twins or maybe it was just fine. Please, please, please mean anything but what I know it means.   

  Kevin got home and almost immediately after that my sister in law, who must have been driving 80 miles an hour to get to my house from her house that fast, got there.  She grabbed car seats and piled the kids in her car then we both sped away in different directions. Strangely enough the first miscarriage I had, it was the same sister in law that came to my rescue. She was kind and empathetic and both times it was a Sunday and both times she dropped what she was doing to run to my rescue and
take care of my kids.   She will forever be in my debt, I am so unbelievably lucky to have such wonderful people around me, like her, to help me when I am in need. 

I got to the ER and checked in.  The front desk person was cheery and was taking down some general information and then asked why I was there, I simply stated I was 11 ½  weeks pregnant and was bleeding.  Her demeanor changed and she must have sent a message somehow to the charge nurse because as soon as I was done checking in, she was waiting for me to take my vitals and get me into a room in front of the other people that were in the waiting room. A different nurse came in and started an IV and asked a few questions and then gave me a lot of water to drink so I could get a full bladder for an ultra sound.  Then they left me in the room for what seemed like hours.  Finally a doctor came in and very quickly asked me a few questions about previous pregnancies and told me that someone form radiology would come and get me in a few minutes.  The nurse came in a few times to check on me, she was very nice, one of those so nice people that it was almost annoying, kind of nice people.  I appreciated that she was so attentive, but was also anxious to hear a definitive answer on what was going on. But, really I did not want to hear it I wanted to live in MY realty where everything was perfect and I stayed pregnant  and had a healthy baby girl; one week early with curly blonde hair and blue eyes, so we could continue to say we had the most beautiful blonde boy, beautiful chocolate boy, beautiful chocolate girl and then the most beautiful blonde girl. It was my perfect realty.   “Please let it stay my realty,” I begged to anyone and everyone up in the Heavens that would hear me.  Please, please, please.
 
It was about two hours after I checked in and finally radiology came into get me.  They wheeled me down the hall and started the ultrasound.  I was pleading and begging that when that instrument hit my skin, that they would immediately see good things.  Anything but what I knew it was.  The tech went about his work silently.  It was an eerie reminder of how silent the ultrasound tech was with my first miscarriage. They won’t say anything that they see when its bad news.  They want to get all their facts straight before they tell you anything.  He finally asked how far along I was and after I told him he simply  stated that what he is seeing isn’t what he should be seeing at that stage. He said it looked like the fetus had not progressed past 8 weeks. Then he asked me if I could empty my bladder so he could do an internal ultrasound for a better view. I was bleeding even more than before and was cramping up pretty good too. He finished the ultrasound and then took me back to my room.  Kevin was with me the entire time and was trying to keep me distracted with anything that he could. I glanced down at my phone and saw that I had a few text messages. It was friends at church, who were wondering where I was, they knew the board member was there and knew I was teaching and when they asked my counselors where I was and heard, they wanted to send support and love. It was kind of them, but I hated being the topic of conversation at church. I hated the rumor mill that was now me.  I didn’t respond.  I lay in the hospital bed cold and numb. The doctor finally came back in and very indifferently told me that I was, in fact, miscarrying he told me that I had a choice of a DNC or I could go home and ride it out. He told me that it would be the hardest 10 days of my life, both physically and emotionally. He recommended the DNC, but said it was up to my husband and I to choose.  I told him I wanted to go home and he told me that he would give me a prescription for some pain medication. The nurse came back in and told me how sorry she was. She unhooked my IV and gave me some paperwork to read over. She asked me if I was okay, if I needed some support people to talk to she asked if  I had been through this before, I told her twice. She was very empathetic and said how sorry she was.  She asked if they had any idea what was causing them and I said no. But mentioned to her that I thought this one was most likely stress. And jut briefly explained to her that my sister’s funeral was the day before and it had been a really rough few months between the two of us.  I started to cry and when I looked up, she was too. She held my hand and called me sweetheart and said how truly sorry she was.   She didn’t annoy me anymore. 



I got out of the hospital gown and got my prescriptions and left the hospital. Kevin stopped on the way home to pick them up while I sat in my car.  As soon as he left my phone rang, it was my second counselor and very good friend. I told her how sorry I was that I had to leave them with everything in primary and asked if it went well, she said it was fine and then asked what happened. I told her we lost the baby and she expressed how sorry she was and asked if she could bring me dinner and I told
her to let me think about it. We hung up and no sooner did I receive a text message from her telling me that she WAS bringing me dinner. She told me that I had not given her the chance to say no when I knew she needed it, so she was going to do the same service to me.  I thanked her for being such a good friend.  Kevin came out from getting my medicine and we went home. 
He went to pick up the kids and I called my sister in law to tell her he was on his way. Her husband picked up and asked if everything was okay and I told him our heart breaking news as well.  He expressed how sorry he was and told me that they would do anything they could to help out. 

Saying it was harder than knowing it. Telling people that we had lost our baby seemed to make it so much more real than what it was when it was my own private news.   And every time that I said it, it made it more real.  I sat alone on my couch and cried.  Silently.  Only for a minute. I was afraid of that emotion.  I was afraid that feeling that devastation of losing my baby would consume me. So I stopped and got up and started a load of laundry.  My phone was ringing and I ignored it.  I was getting text alerts and I did not look at them. I couldn’t tell anyone else.  I wanted to get back to my life. I wanted to rewind to that morning and feel that joy and excitement about primary and getting back to whatever normal I was seeking after such a hard few months.
I wanted to feel happy.  

I finally answered one of the many phone calls I was getting; this particular one was our ward compassionate service leader asking what she could do for me.  I told her that the doctor said it was going to be a very hard week and she said she would have dinners taken care of.I hated taking help. I had made it through 3 new  babies, 1 surgery, broken foot and 2 miscarriages without taking help and I was reluctant to take help this time too.  Somehow she new that I didn't want to take help, and before I knew it I had hung up the phone and realized that meals were coming all week long. I was told afterwards that she only had to make one call and received 6 from people in the ward that asked if they could bring a meal in. I was so touched by the friendship that I had. Having served in that calling before, I knew that sometimes you had to make 6 phone calls to get 2 meals into a family in need, so it meant a lot to me that so many people were offering.  The next two days were really not bad at all.  I was up and moving around and wasn’t in any pain, I actually felt guilty for taking meals in those two days, because I was completely capable of doing it myself.

 Kevin had interviewed at a machine shop in Salt lake earlier in the month for a second job and they wanted him to come in for a working interview the next morning.  I was feeling good and we talked about it and decided that it would be fine for him to go, he would be home by 1 in the afternoon if things got bad and all I had to do was get the boys off to school and I could lay around and watch TV with the little lady. I got up that morning and had intense cramps and was bleeding much, much heavier than the previous days. I took the first pain pill that I had since leaving the ER, got the boys ready to go- even had them eat cereal for breakfast, which is never done at our house (my children seem to think that cold cereal is a punishment. I know; weirdo’s)  and managed to stay with it enough to get them too school and home again. I got home and got right into the shower; that’s when things went from bad to worse.  I was bleeding so heavily that the entire bottom of the tub was filled with blood. Even with an entire pain pill that would normally bring me close to a coma, I was still hunched over in pain.  I finally gave up and just laid down in the shower.  I said a quick prayer in my head and asked for just enough strength to get form the shower to my bed and shortly after got a small window to get up, grab some clothes and lay down. Kevin called me at about 10 and asked how things were going and I told him that it was really bad. He asked if I wanted him to come home and I told him that as long as I didn’t get out of bed I was okay and to stay there until he was done.  Unfortunately,  the 2 year old that was keeping me company didn’t allow me to stay in bed.  She made mischief of one kind or another and I was forced to get up a few times. Each time I did, I had blood running down to my knees  in a matter of a few seconds.  I decided to camp out on my couch instead of the bed, where I could at least hear what naughty things were happening.  Noon came around and I felt horrible. I couldn’t stand up without horrible buleeding and the cramping was unbearable.  Kevin called to tell me he was on his way home and I could hardly keep a conversation.  He told me to call the doctor and ask what to do, so I did and they told me to go back to the ER because I was losing too much blood. I got back on the phone with Kevin and told him to drive faster. Then I called a good friend and asked if not only could she watch my little trouble maker, but if he could pack up her own children and come and get her because I could not even stand up let alone drive.  She did and then when she got here had to get clothes on my child and gather a few things for her to take; I just sat helpless on the couch. I knew if I tried to stand up I would pass out  so I did nothing until Kevin got home.  She also agreed to pick up my boys from school and keep them with her until we got home.  She was my angel of the day. 

 Kevin got there shortly after my friend left and I directed him to go and get me another change of pants, my 4th pair for the day, and then he carried me out to the car and took me back to the ER. They took me straight back; apparently my doctor called them and warned them that I was coming.  They hooked me up  to an IV and took some blood to test and then told me to wait there for radiology.  I laid in the bed lifeless. About 30  minutes later a lady from radiology came in with a wheel chair.  She said she was there to take me for an ultrasound and asked me to get in the wheelchair. I told her I could barely sit up let alone stand up to move from a bed to a chair and she explained that she was in a car accident a few months ago and she didn’t have the strength to push the bed.  The attitude that she told me that really did not make me sympathetic to her, it just irritated me.  Kevin said that he would push the bed and she grunted and told him to follow her. 

She was very rude. We got to the ultrasound room and she very insensitively asked me if I had passed to fetus, how much I was bleeding, if I had passed out, then started the ultrasound.  She pushed the instrument so hard against my  already sensitive stomach and flipped it all kinds of directions and then just blurted out in a very tactless way, “No, you haven’t passed the fetus. It's right here, disintegrating.  You’ll probably pass chunks of it in a few hours.”  I did not even have words. It was hard enough to know that my baby had died, but for her to so cruelly say that it wasn’t even in one piece any more was so much more disturbing.   She finished up with the ultrasound and then showed Kevin how to get back to our room.   I had an fluids going in my IV and the doctor came in and told me that he thought he worst was almost over. He said I  could go back home after I finished the IV bag and didn’t give me any other information. I just laid there in pain and heartbreak for about another hour.   I did feel physically better, like I had a little more energy, after I got the fluids. I even walked out of the hospital and to the car to go home.  It was short lived, though.  I got home, made it up to my bed and started cramping really bad again.  It was close to dinner time and my new visiting teacher, who I had not met yet, was bringing dinner over. I thought I heard a knock at the door and I was feeling pretty good so I wanted to go downstairs and meet her. I got about half down my stairs and started feeling really lightheaded and felt blood running down my legs again. I headed for the bathroom and knew that I was fading fast. I called for Kevin, managed to say “I’m going to pass out” and I was out.   Kevin told me he freaked out and caught me from falling off the toilet and shook me a little bit  to wake me up, which he did. I think I mumbled something to him and I was out again. 

Side note: When Kevin was in his early twenties, his grandmother called to him from the bathroom in a panic and died, right there in his arms, so him freaking out would be a huge understatement.
 
He had laid me down on the floor while I was out, in a pool of blood.  I laid there for a few minutes until I felt good enough to sit up, Kevin lifted me into the tub and started the shower then he cleaned up the huge mess.  Saying that he was super-husband was an understatement.  He carried me upstairs, got me some clean clothes and told me that I was not to get out of bed for anything at all. He got my cell phone, told me to text him when I needed to get up and he would carry me.  Clearly, he was freaked out.  All night long he got up with me every few hours, made sure that I was getting enough to drink and eat and kept me on continuous pain medication.   I still felt horrible and so run down.  It was at this point that I knew the doctor was right in telling me that the next week would be really tough.
 
Kevin was trying to take care of Kena, the boys, the house, me and try to get some work done too. Kenaley fell asleep so he told me he was going to go outside and get some work done. He told me to text if I needed anything. I hated being such a burden to him, hated that I was taking so much of his time. I figured that for sure I could get up to go to the bathroom by myself, it was only 12 feet or so away from where I was, so I got up.  Right away I knew it was a mistake, I was bleeding bad.  I held the edge of the bed and tried to move as fast as I could to the bathroom. It was bad, really bad, the blood soaked through my pants, was past my knees and was leaving a trail on the floor.  I made it to the toilet, and then passed a clot as big as my hand. Right then I heard the kitchen door close, so I called for Kevin. He ran upstairs, saw the blood everywhere, gasped and then yelled “are you okay?” I told him I was fine, told him I was going to take a shower and told him how sorry I was for the huge mess. He cleaned it all up and got me back in bed, then told me to stay there. Again. 

Later that afternoon, I had a doctor’s appointment with my regular doctor. We got there and he asked me a bunch of questions, Kevin told him that things were really bad and he was freaked out over how much blood I had lost.  He took some blood to get a blood count to see what kind of shape I was in.  He came back in a few minutes later and asked what my level was yesterday in the ER. I told him the doctor did not tell me and he said that I was extremely low. Dangerously low.  He called the hospital to get the level and came back in to tell me that I really could not lose any more blood.  He told me that the numbers he was looking at pointed to me loosing 4-5 pints of blood. He said it was really bad and I would likely need a transfusion.  I really did not want one.  He told me he would let me go home, but gave me a prescription for a 2000% iron supplement. Told me to come back in the next day to get my level checked again. He said if it was lower then I would have to have a transfusion.  He asked me if I thought I had passed the fetus and I told him I wasn’t sure.  I told him what the radiologist said, and he said he was going to consult a few OBGYN’s  on what to do next. 

The next day was halloween. the kids costumes were luckily mostly done, i just had to do a few adjustments to them, which a bed-riden person could easily do.  I gave very clear instructions to kevin to get them ready for school in their costumes and sent them off.  It made me sad.  i usually loved halloween. They always had a parade in their school and this was the first year i was going to miss it. Kevin went and tried to give me a play by play, but it wasn't the same.  They came home and sat on my bed and told me all about their day.  I loved listening to it, but it was more that i had lost.  I couldn;t go to their schooland I knew that going trick or treating with them was a no-go.  I made it down the stairs and onto the couch to get them all dressed up again, took a few pictures and then sent them with Kevin to go trick or treating.  He was so good and took at least 20 pictures and the kids came hom enad offered their most prized treats to me.  They were so sweet and made it almost bearable. 

The next day I got a phone call from my doctor and he told me that he called a prescription in for me.  He told me that it is a drug that they use when moms who just gave birth are hemorrhaging; the drug makes their uterus clean everything out and stops the bleeding. He told if I had not passed the fetus then I would bleed very heavily, in which case I would need to go directly to the ER and get a blood transfusion, but if I had then I would stop bleeding.  Kevin and I talked it over and we decided that it would be better for me to start it in the morning rather than at night, because we would have a really hard time finding a babysitter for our kids if we needed to go to the ER in the middle of the night. We told the doctor our plan and he agreed.   So we stuck it out one more night, and made plans for me to take the medicine in the morning. For the first few hours it intensified the cramps and made the bleeding a little heavier, but then slowed it down remarkably by the afternoon. Things started to get a little better and the bleeding slowed way down. I had to go in to my doctors office everyday to get a blood draw and see if my levels were still okay, so that morning I did and they were very, very slowly climbing up.  It seemed like we were out of the woods.   Physically, the worst was over. Emotionally, I hadn’t even cracked the  surface.

Are you ready? Are you ready for the next part?? Its intense people. I’m gonna warn you, it isn’t a feel good, happy ending for a
little while. It’s the start of a downward spiral. So if you are coming here and hoping to get a little inspiring message, this is not the one to read.
 
Baby Sister’s funeral. The day arrived. October 27. I had very little to do with the planning of it. Really the only thing that I did was pick a few things up for my mom and make the program for it.  My mom and 3 of the 5 sisters made the arrangements; the other sister would have liked to be involved, but she was gone for the majority of the time in England on business.  It was up
near my mom’s house, close to where the accident happened and where Baby Sister was living just before she died.  It was just over an hour away from my house, so I decided that in the interest of time and money I would invite my friend to drive up with me. My kids were staying home with Kevin and my friend was leaving her family at home too. I told my mom that I would come up a few hours early to help her set things up and so we were on the road at about 8 am. It was going to be a long day.  I had a sick feeling that things were going to get heated with so many people going there that had heard such bad things about me. I had to face these people and my husband, who is usually my wing man to step in when things get out of control, was staying home.  I was still pretty sick from morning sickness and was just not myself from all the stress that I was dealing with on top of the anxiety from actually going to the funeral. After stopping in at my mom’s house and realizing that she was already at the church we headed that way to help set things up.  My mom and 2 sisters were there getting things started. Because Baby  Sister had such little kids, they wanted to release balloons after the funeral was done, so one of my sisters was filling balloons in a room right next to the entrance- the hot headed sister. She had also been working on very simple scrapbooks to give to the kids
of all the pictures that Baby Sister had taken. They were going to be displayed for the funeral. The plan was to use these tall vases filled with glass beads and have bamboo shoots coming out of them with twine strung from vase to vase and have the pages hanging from clothes pin. The idea was to focus on her life and all the things that she did and all the pictures that she took with her kids. Really, the whole focus of the funeral was the kids. My mom wanted them to remember every good thing about their mom and to remember that the day of her funeral was happy and we sent her to heaven with smiles on our faces.  It was a very sweet sentiment.   


So one sister was filling balloons, one sister was trying to set up vases, my mom was arranging flowers that people had sent  and making a nice display for her erne.  I came in and tried to start helping, and my friend who was with me tried to be helpful as well. We started by taking all the scrapbook pages that Hot Head Sister made and putting them in slipcover and then into a binder.  It wasn’t a hard job, just time consuming to put 200+ pages in slip covers and fit them into 2 books.  Hot Head shouted hello to me and asked who was with me, when I told her the temper started simmering.  She was one of those fine people who has no filter from her brain to her mouth.  She made some snippy comment about how my friend had no right to be there and my mom yelled at her to knock it off. The one level headed sister started with her temper too.  She was trying to set up the vases and was having no luck, the pictures were too heavy for the line and one vase tipped over and broke.  It was all hats off at this point. My mom was frustrated, both sisters were yelling and there is broken glass and glass beads all over the place. The vases weren’t working. They were trying to keep them stable by putting chairs next to them to keep them from standing up, I made a suggestion to get a few heavy rocks and put them in the vase to keep it stable and was yelled at to stay out of it.  The other sister arrived and walked into this huge yelling war between Hot-Head, Level- Head and my mom.  My friend and I were sitting on a couch in the foyer still doing our picture job when Hot Head walks in and yells at my friend that she doesn’t want  her touching anything, she has not right to be there.  My mom interrupted what was the start on a really ugly confrontation and told Hot Head to leave.  Level Head followed her and then shortly after, the oldest sister left.  So it was me, my friend, my mom and a few other lingering people. It started to calm down, we got things set up and people started coming.   I was mortified. So embarrassed that my friend had just witnessed the horror of my sisters. I was embarrassed that my sisters could not een be kind enough for a few hours to people who were also greiving. Mortified that they had such little respect for the church that we were in and the people who were there witnessing this whole thing.  In that moment I really did not want t claim that these people were related to me.


My sisters and I were supposed to sing this particular Mumford and Sons song that we had never even practiced together. 
After the huge fight that went on, I felt like me going up there with them was going to cause more contention, so I decided to sit that one out.  They finally arrived back to the church with a few other people that they collected at my mom’s house and the mood was very different.  They were cheery and relaxed and just seemed a little more mellow.  I thought for sure they had gone to my mom’s house and gotten high, but was assured later that they did not.  The sisters found an empty room and gathered together to practice the song they were singing, they told me to come in and I said that I would let them do it alone, they rolled their eyes and made some snippy comment below their breathe. I didn’t care.   My very best friend in the world finally got there, and was a huge relief to me to have a wing man.  I knew she wouldn’t let anyone push me around like they had that morning. The funeral was starting and she and I sat alone on the side of the chapel.  Oldest Sister did the eulogy and Level Headed sister did a talk as did my mom. My uncle read the book that was given to the kids and then my sisters sang and then the cousin’s to Baby Sister’s kids sang to them. We went outside and released the balloons and then went across town to the fire station where my mom’s ward hosted a luncheon for us.   

A big crowd of Baby Sisters friends decided that they were going to go to the local bar and have one more drink for her, which I
thought was incredibly poor taste. They showed up about an hour late to the luncheon.   later found out that they took a picture of them at the bar raising their glass to Baby Sister. In that picture the light was beaming down at a strange angle and if you look at the beam of light, you could see the face of Baby Sister.  I looked at the picture several times and finally saw it.  It was really defined. Kind of creepy how clear the face was. All of her friends were sure it was Baby Sister. The idea never really sat well with
me.  Of all the places to be seen, why would she pick a bar?  Maybe she was just there with all her friends but a Bar. I didn’t like it. 
 
The funeral, the actual program was nice, parts of my sisters talks made me really upset because I felt like they were outright  lying about things.  But who knows what the truth was. I would always joke about Baby Sister when people I knew also knew her.  We would always have conflicting stories about things and we would joke that we knew what her name was but everything after that was hearsay.  Sad that even at her funeral I  was questioning the truth of things. 

I mentioned before all the horrible things that people had said about me and to me and at the funeral were all the people that
had said them.  Two of my brother-in-laws came up to me in an attempt to make things right with us, but the things that they said were nowhere near an apology. They simply said there’s never really been anything between us, so we should just be friends.  
Another one who I was the most offended by , stopped me made am actual apology and gave me a hug. Later he proved that he said sorry, but through his actions he showed otherwise.  It was a smack in the face.   I hadn’t told very many people that I was pregnant, but somehow the word got out and everyone was asking when I was due and things about the pregnancy.  I didn’t appreciate that they used me being pregnant as a way to ease back into my life without making anything right between us. 


It was done and I was ready to put it behind me and move on with other things in my life. It had consumed such a huge portion of my thoughts, given me so much stress and anxiety, made me so angry and I was ready to be done with all of it.  I had things to
look forward to. I had a board member of the General Primary Presidency visiting my primary the day and I was teaching sharing time, something that I loved doing. I had my 12 week appointment that week and was so excited to hear a heartbeat of the life that was in my belly. Halloween was that week and I had  costumes to finish up and pumpkin carving to do. I could put this behind me. I could be done with it.  It was a relief. 
 
I came home and told Kevin all about it and we both rolled our eyes and washed our hands of it. I finished up the last preperations for my sharing time and had a relaxing (anything would be relaxing after the morning I had) night with my little family.  I got up the next day with a new focus. I was going to be cheerful. I was going to be grateful. I was going to find the good. I was so excited to teach sharing time.  it was the highlight of my week to go to primary most weeks and today I got to have a Board Member come and visit with our primary. I got all my morning meeting done. Came home and got the kids ready and was just about to walk out the door, yelled to the kids to gather up their stuff and make sure they had their hair and teeth done. And I went upstairs to use the bathroom. I was bleeding.  Pretty Heavy. 

Cheer...gone. Grateful....gone.
 
Panic....fear....devastation were the

I played hooky from church yesterday. Maybe because I was too tired or because I had a ton to do before I went back to work today or maybe because I was determined to have a tangible thing that I accomplished over the weekend. We may never know.  But, the fact remains that I played hooky. It made me a little nervous to do such a thing, because I have finally been feeling better, much to do with me writing and sharing about this experience and partly to do with another part of the story that is yet to come (it’s a spoiler, so I am not going to divulge)   I was thinking that if I don’t give back for all the good that has happened over the last few weeks, then maybe it will stop happening and we will go back to crappy things.  I dunno, does it work that way?  Or do you get one free pass to stay home and just be home?  I’m hoping for the latter.


So I left you with songs and quotes last time.  They went on for the better part of a month, during all the planning for Baby Sisters funeral.  Like I mentioned, I had one sister who was in England on business, 2 sisters who came in from California to help my mom and one who was living with my mom, then me. I talked to my mom and one of my sisters and would get each one of their stories of why things were chaotic and who the other one was crazy. I understood, it was stressful. It was hard to plan a funeral for a person who you felt was prematurely taken from here. It was hard to make things right for her children. It was hard to tell people how much she meant to you. It was hard.  So I listened to them and tried to be supportive to them; but refused to help with any planning.  I would take a task on, but I did not give input on any ideas.  I just thought with all the people who thought so poorly of me that would be at the funeral, they would think I had no place in planning things for her.  So I offered to help with small tasks that were someone else’s ideas.  It wasn’t much, not near the amount of things that I helped with for my dad’s funeral, but I felt that was my place.  And I was okay with it. 

I had a few short conversations with one of my sister-in-laws who would call and check up on how things were going and how I
was doing.  She kept mentioning a book she wanted me to read. I hate reading.  If I am going to take hours and hours doing something I want to have a tangible thing in my hands as a result of all my time. I found reading to be idle.  A waste of time.  But she mentioned to me how helpful this book was for her and how powerful the message was. She briefly told me the story of how a man instantly forgave a teenage drunk driver who killed his pregnant wife and 2 of his children. That was all I needed to know to be sure that this was a book that I was certain I never wanted to read. I have never, never, never been one of those girls who likes touchy-feely movies. Would so much rather see Avengers over any chick flick.  So, yeah, reading THAT book, was on my “things I will never do” list.  But she mentioned it in several conversations that we had. Maybe because I was a hormone raging, sleepless, kind of crazy emotional pregnant person at the time.  That could have been it.  


Or it was just her so finely tuned in to The Spirit that she knew persistence was what I needed.   


She one afternoon was driving by and stopped to give me a treat and this book that she had sitting in her car.  “Let It Go” by Chris Williams.  I kind of tossed it aside and thought, I will just return it to her after having it over here for a few weeks and tell
her I didn’t have time. I threw it on my catch-all-counter. I think it was a Tuesday when she dropped it off,  Wednesday it stared at me all day, there mixed within all the other junk on my counter. For the better part of Thursday it burned a hole through my very being. Thursday night I was cleaning up dinner and I swear the thing was like one of those creepy pictures where the eyes follow you.  FINE!! I will read it. But if I am not interested in this book within the first 2 pages, I’m not going to finish it.  It was about 5:30, maybe 6 when I started it.  The first few pages of the book was him having a conversation with a person, who I assume had a similar tragedy happen to them and he was trying to convey how he could forgive such a horrific thing.  

Little bit interested. Good writing. I will read the next chapter. It was about 6:30 and I had a little time before Grey’s Anatomy was on that night.  Then he flashed back to his life with his wife and children and the things that they would do and the way their family ran. It was sweet, he was a kind man, who was not afraid to admit that he made mistakes and learned from them.

Then the night of the accident.   I was hooked. I hurt for him. I felt his loss. I was astounded by how he instantly forgave this person who took so much from him. He talked about going to the temple shortly after his wife’s death and how he so badly wanted to feel her spirit there, and the disappointment that he had leaving there. He talked about the low points when he felt such tremendous loss and felt so empty and lonely without his family with him.  He spoke of going to church not even 24 hour after this horrible tragedy happened and how words came out of his mouth that he still cannot recollect, telling the members of his ward that he knew it was  an impossible thing to forgive this person, but that he knew it was what the Savior needed him to do.  He talked of how he told a friend who was doubting their faith to lean on his at a time when he had nothing to give, he was telling this person to borrow some of  *his* faith. 

It was amazing and powerful and inspiring.  I couldn’t put it down. It was 9:30 and Grey’s Anatomy was done and I hadn’t watched a second of it and the amazing part was I really didn’t care.  I wanted to read this book.   I read on for about another hour. Everyone in my house was sleeping and I was lying in my bed using the light from my laptop so I could read. I was tired and I needed to have energy for my coming day. So I put the book on my nightstand and tried to go to sleep.  But I was wide awake.   I was running through every amazing message I had just read and how much it was so similar to things I felt and things I said and experiences I had.  I was thankful for a sister-in-law who was so aware of what I needed even when I wasn’t. 

Alright. Sleep. Must get sleep. My TV was on and was illuminating my bedroom just enough that I could see.  I wasn’t paying much attention to what was on, my mind was racing with what I had just read. I started to stare into my doorway deep in thought and that’s when it caught my eye.

Standing there clear as day was Baby Sister. Right there in my doorway. I could see her face. I just looked at her for a moment. 
She was just still.  Surely it was my sleep deprived brain.  So I focused on it for a second.  It had to be a shadow of something.   Nope, it was her. Standing right there.  I could feel my heart pounding out of my chest. Then this glimpse of that stupid movie City of Angels came into my mind. You know the one, where angels would come and get spirits to take to heaven. I leapt out of my bed and very anxiously walked to each of my children’s beds to see if they were still breathing. Stupid, I know.  


It’s late and my mind is playing tricks on me. I said a quick silent prayer for comfort and lay back in my bed. But still couldn’t sleep. I opened my eyes and looked in my door way again and there she was.  I looked at her right in the eyes and got a rush of warmth.  I wasn’t afraid any longer.  She looked at me for just a second then slowly turned her face towards my nightstand  where the book was.  Then looked back at me and smiled, but not the kind of smile that expresses happiness. More  the kind of smile that begs.   So I picked up the book and continued reading.  I think I stayed up until 2 am that morning to finish it. I would glance up in my doorway occasionally but she was gone.  She made it known what she wanted me to do.  She needed me to finish the book.  She needed me to hear the whole message of despair, forgiveness, healing and finding joy again.   

It was absolutely the most astounding book that I have ever read. There were so many things that I had experienced that was in
this book. Such similarities in things that I said to others around me and things that were said to me.  There were much more things that I cherished from this book, but they were private and personal and things that I keep to myself. 


  A few days after I read the book I found out that alcohol was a key factor in how Baby Sister’s accident happened. I can’t say more than that because the case is still pending. N the moment that I fond out about this detail of her death, I was angry, I felt robbed, and then I pictured her standing in the doorway and realized that there were other reasons that she wanted me to read that book.  I think she knew that I would be angry and troubled by this detail of her death, but after reading the book and hearing the whole message I knew that it was not my burden to carry.   She, once again, healed me.

 I saw Baby Sister a few more times in the doorway of my room. She and I would just look at each other for a fraction of a second and she would be gone.   There is a line in my patriarchal blessing that says that sometimes it is hard to hide the veil from me. I know that this is what it was talking about.  It was those instances that I got a little too close. Or those times that I could hear her whispering to me. I was too close. It is a comforting reminder that there is more out there.


 I am thankful for those glimpses. I am thankful for messengers. I am thankful for forgiveness. I am thankful for Baby Sister.

Can I just pause for a moment from the gabbing and tell you all thanks.   No, I mean, REALLY…Thank you. You make a girl feel loved…supported…thought about…strong…NORMAL. And its been a while since I have felt normal. So, really from all that is in me…Thank you. :*)
 
I last left on a bit of a high.  I felt good. I felt at peace. I was having frequent conversations with my mom. She invited me to go with her the day that Baby Sister was being cremated, just she and I with my daughter and Baby Sisters daughter tagging along. Someone needed to make the final identification of her body before the cremation could take place, so I would be able to see her body once more.   I agreed, but it was more so that I thought she would need some support with her than me wanting to go see her body.   I was never one for looking at a person’s spiritless body; it just seemed cold to me to want to see the shell of who a person was. She had with her in her casket a note from her son and a drawing from her daughter; they were clutched in her hand. They wanted her to have those notes with her when she went to heaven.  It wasn’t at all like the day we went to see my dad before he was cremated. Three of my sisters and I all went with my mom on the day that my dad was cremated; to the same funeral home that was helping with my sister’s final arrangements.  We met there, we saw my dad’s body and we felt a peace that this is what he needed to be released form a long, painful string of illnesses.   When my mom and I, with the 2 little ones in tote, saw Baby Sister it was a confirmation that things could have and should have been so different.  Her daughter stood there beside her mom in the casket, which was such an unnatural thing, and said goodbye to her mommy, she said “my mom is so pretty;”  it just made my heart break.  I gave my mom some private moments with baby Sister and then we took the 2 little girls to get some lunch and I wanted to get baby Sister’s daughter a Build-a-Bear, so that when she missed her mom,  she could hug that bear and remember all the good times she had with her.  We let her pick out anything she wanted for that bear. Of course, being Baby Sisters daughter, she chose a pink bear and my mom and I more or less talked her into getting a voice box in it that said “I love you!” She wanted the annoying pop music, which is also so like Baby Sister.  It was good for me to be able to give something to Baby Sister’s daughter that I know she would have wanted her to have.   We spent the afternoon playing with the 2 girls and listening to them fighting in the back seat of my car. It was a flash back of when Baby Sister and I would do the same thin in the back seat of our family car.  It helped me to remember the good times with her.  My mom went back the funeral home o get Baby Sister’s ashes and I went home.  

 We continued our frequent conversations ; my mom was really struggling.  Two of my sisters had come from California to “help” with the funeral plans and were causing headaches for more than just my mom. One sister has only 2 emotions that she expresses: Happiness and rage; the later was the more frequent of the two.  I would call my mom and she would tell me that all 3 of the sisters at her house were fighting and she just wanted to have a quiet house to go home to.   I hated nothing more than
to hear my mom crying and to hear her feeling so down. I became a little obsessive with trying to lift her spirits.  Knowing my Baby Sister, anyone would say that she hated seeing people down. She always had a smile on her face and would part the great seas if she could to help a friend.  I felt like both me and Baby Sister were alike in this way.  I needed to help my mom feel better- for the both of us.  I started  sending her quotes every day.  I called them little bits of love. Just a little something to remind her that she was in my thoughts and to bring up her spirits.  Some were scriptures that I always found helpful when I was down ( like Joshua 1:9) and some were just little things that  I found to give her that little push she needed.   A few of my favorite ones were:


If what’s ahead scares you and what’s behind hurts you just look above, He never fails to help you.-Catherine M Wallace


When one door of happiness closes, another one opens. But often  we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one that is opened. –Hellen Keller


When God solves your problems, you have faith is His abilities.  When he doesn’t solve your problems, He has faith in yours.  


The most beautiful people I know have known defeat, known suffering known struggle, known loss and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness and a deep loving concern.  Beautiful people do not just happen. –Elizabeth Ross


When I was 5 years old, my mother told me that happiness is the key to life. When I went to school and they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I told them happy. They said I did not understand the question. I said they did not understand life. – John Lennon.



Then I found this quote: Music is what feelings sound like.  So I got a little obsessive about songs.  I would send her links to
songs such as this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pyue2N1XZ0M


and this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M0IDiVQxZYg


 and this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UJWk_KNbDHo

and this:
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i-0gsQ-1py8


It helped... Me.

 I found so much more peace in sending these to my mom than maybe she did.  I would hear the songs on my MP3 player and think of Baby Sister and find  even more peace.  I would start to get down, or have a thought enter my head that was not kind of
her and a song would come on the radio  or repeat itself on my MP3 player and I would be reminded that I love her and I forgive her.  We would have little private moments together through these songs.   I would tell her hello when I would hear a song  and I would thank her for being with me and guiding me with what I needed to do.   And she would give warmth all around me.  


Funny how things work out like that. 

  About a month or so after  Baby Sister passed away, her best friend since grade school had gone to see a psychic. (Disclaimer: I do not believe in Psychics, but  I do believe that spirits have ways of communicating messages to their loved ones so  just hear me out on this one.)  In the visit to this psychic she drew a picture that had a pretty close depiction of the book that I made for her children on it and wrote “thank-you” next to it;  then right next to that, wrote something like "songs on the radio," and a few other things that I will get into later.   I knew what it meant.  I knew it was for me. 



She and I were okay. We were helping each other help those who were so shattered and bruised. Including the two of us.  

I’m lying in my bed tonight attempting to type in  the dark.  And I am trying a new format so when I post this maybe it won’t do the weird format thing that randomly shortens a line.  I’m trying to figure it out so it isn’t so annoying for you guys to read. Which, by the way, is it just annoying all together? Are you so sick of my drama that you are ready to unfriend me? Did you already unfriend me and no one is reading this at all.  Well….this is awkward. 
 
But I will continue anyway. I left last time the night I went to the temple.  While I was in there I was pleading to somehow get out of this slump. I hated feeling this angry and every time that  I thought I was getting better, I would hear something new and get angry all over again.  I wanted to be happy again. I wanted to overcome this funk.  When I left I was disappointed that I did not get that answer of how to get out of it.  
 
Kevin and I walked to the car and opened the trunk where I grabbed my phone. There was a missed call and a couple of texts that I missed.  I looked and it was a friend of mine asking if I could bring a meal to someone in need.  And then her taking it back because she forgot all that I was dealing with.  And like the flip of a light I knew what I needed to do to get out of this funk. I needed to find someone that I could help. So I called my friend and insisted that I was bringing this meal. Explained to her that this was answer to MY prayer, this is what *I* needed to feel better. I might have been bringing a meal to someone who needed some food, but I was the one that needed to do that service.  
 
I needed to forget about my problems and help another in need.  So I did. And I felt a little bit better.  Good enough that I felt like leaving my house other than to wear myself out on a long walk. My errands had stacked up so the next day I ran all over the place catching up on them.  I had bags of things that I was carrying in the house after I picked up the boys from school  and one of them brought a friend home to play with as well.  I walked through the door and even though I had a whole bunch of things
to get done in the house I felt like the most important thing in that moment as for me to sit down and write.  I tried to ignore it for a few minutes, but every time I started to do something else, it become more obvious that for whatever reason I needed to sit and write something. I didn’t know what, but I did know that ignoring that prompt was not a good idea.  So I told my boys  that I was going to go sit in my room for a little while and work on my computer.  I sat down, opened a Word document and stared at the blank screen for a little while.

My room was silent and, remarkably, the kids were being incredibly quiet downstairs. 

I listened. And I heard a faint whisper.  And a rush of warmth ran through my  whole body.  I started typing and didn’t have any idea what voice my fingers were listening to. Tears started welling up in my eyes as I was reading what was being typed by my fingers.  It was that moment that I knew I was a vessel. A messenger. This is what was typed that afternoon:


Today I sat up in a cloud and watched you play all day; I saw you  smile, I heard you laugh, I helped you on your  way.


I held your hand so tight today and hugged you when you fell; I kissed it better and wiped your tears stayed till you were  well.


Today I saw you win that game and jumped up and down with bliss; I was so proud and cheered and yelled and blew you a great big kiss.


Today I saw you read that book that you have been working on; I helped you sound each letter out and followed right  along.


I sat and listened to your heart and heard each thing it said; Today I cried each time you cried and laid with you in your bed.


I stared deep in your eyes today and remembered all those times; your laughter rang within my ears just like Christmas chimes.


Today I knelt right next to you and listened as you prayed; I heard you say you wanted comfort when you were afraid.


I watched you make a friend today and saw how scared you were; I whispered in your ear, just then, that he would be nice, I was
sure.


I saw you all alone today and heard your heart cry out; I sat beside you and stroked your hair and helped you not to doubt.


I tucked you in your bed tonight and kissed you on your head; I watched you as you fell asleep and prayed for your day ahead.


Tonight I watched you dream all night and made sure they were sweet; I scared the bad ones all away then softly kissed you on your cheek.

My sweetest little Avanley and toughest little Nash, beside you I will always be, I'll always have your back.



I did not write those words. I simply typed them for my Baby Sister to tell to two children.

 
It was an incredibly dreamlike experience. It was her. She needed to tell her babies those words.  And she needed me to hear the heartbreak that she was now living with.  We had things taken from us when she died, but no one had more taken from them than her children did.  I felt her pain. I felt the emptiness she felt. I pictured her crying and devastated that she couldn’t hold them again.  
 
 I forgave her. How could I not?  I instantly felt relief from the anger. She healed me.  

 I later took the words she whispered to me and together with pictures of her and her 2 kids that I gathered put them into a book and gave them to who they belonged to.  

Tonight I decided to put my I-pod on shuffle a I wrote and this was the first song that started to play:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CMPIxEWGs5g

It was one of the songs that we played for my dad in his last hours.  We needed to feel some comfort and music was always such a huge part of his life so we felt like he would appreciate hearing some of his favorites. It is now the ringtone for when my mom calls me so I will forever be reminded of my dad’s love.  Open another window and listen to it as you read the next part of my falling apart.  But before I do thank you for all the kind words of encouragement and confidence that you have in me.  It’s your words that kept me writing and working through this. <3

Its that surreal moment. The one that you can literally hear your brain try to process what it has just heard.  I am in the middle of
a noisy movie theater hall and I can hear my heart just stop.  I’m pretty sure that I sat just right in the middle of the hall; and then
realized that I sat in the middle of a hall and scooted towards a wall.  There was just faint crying coming from the other end of the phone.  And I had not yet caught up to what I was just told.  For a split second I actually had the thought that this was just another one of her little schemes, but the authenticity of my sister’s reaction proved it to be wrong.  

You know that saying that in certain situations you will either act or react?  Well that was this time.  I had to act.  My sister was dead, I didn’t know how, I didn’t know when, my other sister was crying on the phone with me and I had ignored the other 3 for the better part of 2 hours.  “What happened?” I know it wasn’t the first thing that I said to her on the phone, but it was the first thing I remember saying. She tearfully explained that she and her boyfriend were out on a four wheeler ride and she didn’t know
the whole story but they crashed and she died.  I remember this sister saying “I don’t know what the hell, I have (baby-sister’s little girl) here and I don’t know what to do.” 

  There was panic, there was devastation, there was pleading through the tears.  I acted. “What can I do? What do you need from me?”  clearly, she was overwhelmed, she was begging for help.  “I need to get a hold of (the 2 dads). Mom won’t pick up her phone and I just can’t tell anyone else right now. What should I do with (Baby sister’s daughter)?”  “I’ll call the dads.  Keep (Baby Sisters daughter) there but don’t tell her anything yet. I  will get in touch with the dad first.

I hung up the phone and my mind went blank. I texted Kevin who was still in the movie theater. I knew it was a long shot, but I was hoping maybe he would come out and see what was wrong. Then I realized I had no phone number to reach dad number one.  The only conversations that we ever had were on Facebook, so I hoped that maybe he had a smart phone and would get the message if I sent one. I simply wrote call me immediately and left him my cell number. Then I tried to call my friend who was sister’s to the other dad. No answer. But in that moment, my phone rang- a number I didn’t know. It was dad #1.  I told him as kindly as I could and both of us expressed shock and concern for his son.  We both exchanged “if you need anything call me” and hung up.  Then I tried the friend again, no answer. Very unlike her. The movie theater, where Kevin and the kids were, started to empty so I walked against the crowd in hopes that I would find the faces I knew.  They hadn’t even left their seat yet but I noticed Kevin looking at his phone. The movie theaters aren’t kidding when they say that a tiny bright screen in a dark theater can be very distracting. The theater was still pretty dark, but I could see the expression on his face; disbelief. He noticed me and gathered the kids and headed down the stairs.  His brother and his wife were there and were kind and offered whatever comfort they could, but I didn’t need comfort at that point, I still didn’t really believe it yet.  

When my dad died the year before that, my sisters and I were all in the room with him in the last hours of his life. We all crashed on the floor and tried to get some sleep through out that night, but none of us wanted to leave him.  In the end, we were all gathered around him on his bed and watched him take his last breaths, it was a relief from pain for him. He had lung cancer that had spread rapidly and relentlessly all over his body and was given 6 months. He made it three, but all of us were grateful to have those three months.It was time to process, to make things right, to say goodbye.  Baby Sister’s death was unexpected and untimely and cruel.  She wasn’t ready to go. We weren’t ready for her to go.  This was a different experience all together.  
 
 She lived life on the edge; she mocked rules and lived life with no cares.  She thought she was invincible, she thought she was only hurting herself with her actions. And she wasentirely wrong.   She died and two wonderful children were without a mother now.  She died and 5 sisters are without her now. She died and our mother is burying her child now.  She died and many, many people were without her friendship now. Her choices affected so much more than her and it was such a painful reality for every one of us to live with. 

Kevin and I packed up our kids and started to drive home.  I grabbed his phone from him, because he had my friend’s husband’s phone number on it and I was hoping to get a hold of her through him so the other father would know.  It was a long shot if my friend wasn’t picking up, but I was trying every angle. He picked up. I asked for my friend and he seemed confused.  “(Friend),  (Baby Sister) was killed in an ATV accident.” It was shock and disbelief. She thought the same thing I did. Is this a trick? Another scheme? I assured her a few times and told her I needed her to call her brother and tell him. I explained that his daughter was with my other sister and she didn’t know yet, we were waiting to tell him. We hung up and then she went on to tell her entire family. 

We got home and things started to settle in.  It was late and I was tired but I could not sleep. I was so disturbed by this news and I felt it was wrong to just go to sleep like any other night. I got up and messaged a few family members that lived far away and friends of hers that I knew.  I couldn’t sleep no matter how hard I tried. My mind simply would not turn off.  It wasn’t right. This shouldn’t have happened. 
 
I finally fell asleep, probably for only a few hours at best and then got out of bed and went  about my day. It was a Sunday and it was my mom’s birthday. What a horrible twist to this story.  I still didn’t know if she even knew about Baby Sister.  I waited a few hours, selfishly, because I really didn’t want to get on the phone and hear the complete heartbreak from my mom. I couldn’t stand hearing that  from her. It was a painful long conversation and I had no comfort to offer her. There is nothing that can be said to a mother who just lost her child, it is a pain that has no comfort.  She told me that she and my other sisters were going to the morgue to identify her that morning and asked if I wanted to go.  I politely declined and said that they can go if that is what will help them, but seeing her body was not going to do anything for me. On top of that, my sisters and I were still on the rocks. 
I knew that my presence would not be welcomed among them, so I let them have that moment.  I stayed home and tried to listen to listen to any conference message that I could pay attention  to, but I didn’t have the ability to focus on anything enough to retain  anything. It was just a distraction for the pain.  I talked with my grandparents that day. They called to tell me how sad they was and how sorry they was that we had to go through another death so shortly after my father died. They said a few things to me that were exactly what I needed to hear in that moment. They knew me. They knew what my heart needed to hear. They were what I needed in that moment. I will forever be grateful for the kind words that they shared with me and for the honesty that I knew they always had.  

As horrible as this sounds, I was more mad than anything else, for an entirely selfish reason: She made up so many lies about me and no one will ever know the truth. I lost sisters to her lies, lost friends to her lies; I lost my reputation to her lies.  She ruined me and then died and it will never be made right.  How could she do that? I hated her for it.  I hated my baby sister for the mistakes that she made, and the mistakes that she made ended up killing her. How could I be mad at her? She ended up  paying the ultimate price for her actions. She won’t get to see her kids grow  up, she won’t experience a kiss from her sweet daughter or a bear hug from her kind son. She knows the price she paid. She lost everything. And yet I was still mad.  Furious. 
So mad that I didn’t shed one single tear for her.  I let that anger grow into bitterness. 

  It consumed me for the better part of a week. Some moments were better than others.  Some were much worse.  I would hear little bits of information from my mom or friends and the fury fire would grow. I was having a hard time even keeping enough energy from the anger to take care of my kids.  I think it was a few days after she died that I decided I needed to something to defuse. So I packed up Kenaley and went for a walk. It was getting close to the time that my kids were getting done with school so I decided to take the long 1 mile walk up a steep hill to go get them. And on the way there I stopped to get a Pepsi, because it’s always good to feed anger caffeine. I had an hour to get up there, it took me about 15 minutes. So I made laps around the school while I waited. It helped. Probably just because I was so exhausted from walking (don’t forget I was also about 8 weeks pregnant and nausea was well into play here)  I got home and just sat around for the night. I had talked on and off with my mom about plans for her funeral but until that point things were not set in stone. One of my sisters had a business trip that she had to take to Europe for a few weeks and needed to leave early in that week.  So it sounded like the funeral was going to wait until she got back and would be kept small and intimate. 

One particular morning that week was exceptionally hard. It was around 8:30. I was up because I had to go and give an assembly to the 5th grade at Logan’s school about being an author. His teacher asked in at the beginning of the year if we had a job that we would be willing to teach their class about and when I told her that I didn’t work, but I had a published book, she was really excited and asked me to talk to the entire 5th grade about it.  This was the morning that I we were doing it. I got a call from my mom, she told me that they were having a private viewing for Baby Sister that morning at 9 in Salt Lake before she was to be
creamated. In one hour.  I was in disbelief. I paused for a minute, so hurt that I was a forgotten detail to this event and muttered out “well, I can’t…” that’s about all I had gotten out before I was interrupted by her saying “Its okay. If you can’t come its fine.”  And then she hurried off the phone and went on her way.  This was the pinnacle of my fury.  I felt so unwelcome, so unwanted, so forgotten.  I blamed Baby Sister.  In that moment I thought, well, you got what you wanted they dismissed me like just  another person on the street. I was left so hurt by what Baby Sister had done  before she died and I felt like this was her final little zing.  I pictured her bragging: “Ha-ha. They forgot to invite you to my funeral.  You are nothing to them.”  I was crushed.  I broke. I threw my phone and turned the hurt into rage and went on a rampage. Screaming and throwing things and making a big scene. Kevin calmed me down and told me that he thinks we need to go to the temple.  I told him there was no way I could walk through those doors right now and he told me to get there by 5 that night.  Clearly, he knew what I needed. I pulled myself together, went and did the assembly without any problems and then came home to a good friend who had her stroller loaded with her 2 little ones and was ready to go walk it off with me.  She had gone to the viewing and brought back with her a picture that my somewhat level headed sister wanted me to have. My friend told me that Sister had handed it to her and simply said  give this to Danyelle.  Nothing else. I was angry and threw it aside without even looking much at it.   We walked and I vented and cursed and probably scared the begeezers out of my friend, she had never seen that side of me before.  She was kind and  understanding and just listened to me and showed that she loved and supported  me freaking out to her.  I will forever be thankful for that walk with her. I got home and in my exhaustion decided that what I needed was space.  I sat with my laptop and wrote a short and to the point email to my sisters and my mom and told them that I needed to have some space. Told them  that of all the hurtful things that Baby Sister had done, being a forgotten detail to her funeral plans was the most hurtful thing of all. I told them that I already felt so unwanted and so unwelcome to that event and to have been forgotten was a worse feeling than that. I told them that I would appreciate to be left alone so I could overcome this.  I got a few replies, one very heartfelt apology from my mother and several others that were not so heartfelt and not apologies at all.  After reading my mom’s reply and a few events that followed, I honestly think that with all the things that my mom had to plan, she really did just overlook inviting me to the viewing. It was planned very quickly and she tough that surely one of my sisters had told me.   It has been forgotten between my mom and I. 

 My grandmother called me again that day. She was sad that I wasn’t there.  She knew little about the drama between baby Sister and I and how my other sisters were carrying on her work. She expressed to me that she was upset about one sister telling everyone that she was baby Sister’s mom and she had practically raised her. My grandmother told me that she followed behind her in her walker and set them straight, she told them that baby Sister was MY baby.That I would carry her on my hip and that Baby Sister knew me as her second mother. She was angry at my sister for taking that credit.  She said it broke he heart to think that I was so devastated that I couldn’t even come.  When I informed her that everyone forgot to invite me, a rage in her that I had never seen before was heard through the phone.  She was hurt just as much as I was and tried we both comforted each other in a way that is a private and cherished memory. My grandmothers voice and reassuring  words was what I needed
to feel calm enough to make it through the rest of the day.
 
That night I went to the temple with Kevin.  I so badly wanted to feel Baby Sister’s presence there or just to have a feeling of
peace.  But, it was just like any other trip to the temple. It felt good to go, but it wasn’t what I was hoping to feel that night.
 
I’m going to stop for the night. Mostly because my husband is getting irritated that for 2 nights now I have done nothing but type. And partly because My good friend was right. "Writing will bring the emotions to the surface but it will also allow you to draw them out of your head and give them a place for you to reflect.”  I think I have surfaced enough for the night.
 
  I find it no coincidence that this is what is playing  on my I-pod as I finish tonight:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KpcBjt8Wqg8


 

I’ve been seeing a therapist. For several months.  It wasn’t meant to be a secret, but somehow it became one. 
I kind of (this being the biggest understatement, like ever) hit a wall,  fell apart, slept and cried and refused to get out of my bed for 36 straight  hours after admitting to my husband and best friend that I just wanted to die.  And had even planned it out.  Life  came on too quick and too hard for me and decided to throw me a whole 35 year’s  worth of curve balls in about 5 months, most of the really tough ones in 3  weeks.  My therapist has told me,  several times, that she thinks writing my feelings out and getting it off my chest is going to be more healing than anything else.   And on a day like today, when I really want to crawl back in my bed and  cry, I figured I would give this a shot.


 It’s a long story and seeing as you have come here to get the nitty-gritty and why Danyelle is a little off her rocker, I  am assuming that you want to hear all about how I ended up in bed crying for 36  hours.

 
I’m going to take you back to September.  The 9th. I know the day because it was my  grandmothers 90th birthday. I had been working on a book for the occasion and helping my mom and sisters plan a big celebration for her. It was an exciting day. And to make it more exciting I just so happened to see 2 blue lines on  a pregnancy test that morning. Something that I had been hoping for for a couple of months.  But it was a secret and too early to tell anyone, so my husband and I just kept it to ourselves.  I am one of those people that as soon as I know that there is life within me I need to know when it was expected to arrive.  So I jumped online and typed in the dates it needed and a little glowy circle spun on my screen a few times while it calculated and then it gave me the expected due date for my microscopic creation: May 21. My dad’s birthday.  Which was awesome and amazing and a warm, especially since he had passed away just 10 months before that and I just knew that he was looking at me in that moment telling me that he loved me.  I was elated. But also busy. I had a 90th birthday party to set up and attend. And it was for my very favorite person in the world.  We went and celebrated and it was wonderful and it was awkward and my sisters decided to show their ugly side and make things uncomfortable for me.  They had a tendency to do this more often than not, sometimes completely innocently and sometimes not. Today was half and half. But this was one of those rare occasions that I
had my guy in my corner to back me up. Kevin tended to stay away from my family functions. He hated the way that  all of us sisters treated each other, hated to go and act like everything was a-okay when things were most defiantly not. So he stayed home and on the few occasions that I actually did go to a family function I fought it out myself. We made it through the  party and my grandmother thanked as a hundred times over for such a great time and for all the effort that went into it.  And we went home with loads of party food leftovers.  Crashed and called it good 



Enter September 10th: I get an email from my baby sister’s ex-husband asking if I had any information about where she had moved to.  He told me that she had moved, pulled their son out of school and changed her phone number and did not tell him  anything and he was concerned about his son. I thought he was genuine and he had never given me reason to believe that he was lying or using any information that I gave him for a horrible cause, so I told him what little information I had, which was only a guess as to where she had moved and a phone number that I had been accidently included in on a mass text.  That’s it. Told him I was sorry for not being able to help more and I hoped things worked out the best for their son.  I was acting in what I thought was the best thing for their son, who I loved, and was also trying to dig my sister out of what could be potential kidnapping charges. It happens. 



A few days pass and I hear nothing about anything. Then all the sudden Baby Sister opens the gates of fury. It wasn’t the  first time that she flung open those doors, she was like a soap opera star at starting drama. In a matter of minutes I am getting phone calls from every one of my sisters (there are 5 of them, mind you) and they are taking turns screaming at me, my other line is beeping over and over and they are screaming and hanging up on me and I can barely get a story out of them all I know is they
are pissed and Baby Sister got them all riled up. Finally I get one of the more level headed ones on the phone and she explains to me that Baby Sister has told all of them that I have been in cahoots with her ex and I have promised to testify against her so that she will lose custody of their son and I have also promised that one of my close friends would do the same and we were plotting to ruin her life.




Let me just pause here a moment and say that I do not find this at all therapeutic.  I, in fact, am finding that this is bringing up all those feelings of pain and anger and hurt back to the surface. I really badly want to throw a chair through a window.  What kind
of quack therapist do I have?!  But I will push through for the sake of a good story…where was  I….


So sisters are mad, I am furious that once again Baby Sister has gotten me involved in her latest plot and once again the army of angry sisters is marching with pitch forks and flaming whatever-they’re-called and they are on the attack. It was a common scene in my family. I stood out. I was the fish against water. For a period of time I had what they wanted and they hated me for
that.  I was used to being attacked and I was used to sisters jumping on whatever bandwagon they could to get at  me.  But this time it was different. This time baby Sister had an agenda. Well, she had an agenda every time, but this time she made her agenda known. She wasn’t stopping at the army of sisters, she was recruiting more.  She called her other ex-husband, she called her ex #2’s family she called her friends, she was relentless.  Anyone who was anyone was under the impression that I was the devil in jeans and I needed to be shamed.  She all but stopped at posting it on a billboard. I got phone calls and  emails and Facebook messages and things were said to me that I would expect to hear from a murder victim’s family confronting the killer.  One message in particular had such vulgarity about me, my children and my husband that I threw up after reading it.  For someone to let their tongue get the better of them in a heated argument is one thing; but for someone to seek you out, find a way to contact you, write such vulgarities out and actually press send takes a special kind of person. This was my reality for about a week. I would stand in the shower for  the better part of an hour and cry and think of the hurtful things that I could do so she could feel just a little bit of what she had done to me. I never didany of them, but I had a million of them ready to go if my conscience would just let me.   Instead I just took it. I was her punching bag.  All the horrible lies that she said about me and my kids and my husband and my friends were shattering me.  And I did nothing. I took the higher ground. Alone. Because every person that he two of us mutually knew together was holding a pitchfork. I had a husband, a few good friends and my little minions to comfort me.
 


The hatred slowed and I came out bruised and broken, but I made it through the battle.  I hadn’t talked to any of my sister, except the level headed one a few times, for about a month.  They told me I was dead to them. I just went on living. 



Then October 6th came.  It was a good day, conference weekend.  And on top of that we got a surprise visit from my very favorite brother in law and his awesome wife.  We all decided to see a movie, Hotel Transylvania. I remember because when life throws you a flaming curve ball, you remember things in detail. I turned the ringer on my phone to silent but left the vibrate feature on. We had popcorn and licorice and lemonade and we were sitting on the very top row of the theater. The movie was just getting started; we hadn’t even made it through all the previews yet and my pocket starts vibrating where I had my phone. I snuck a peek at the screen to see who it was. Big Sister. I was not getting into this again, they just need to leave me alone.
What else can she possibly be starting up now? Denied the call.  A few minutes pass, pocket vibrates.  Sneak a peek, same sister…deny. Three or four more times before the movie  even starts. I get tired of looking and just let my pocket vibrate away and can only imagine the voicemails I will be receiving.  I try to ignore it and have a good time with my family watching this  movie.


About ¾ of the way through the movie I start to get a sick feeling. A feeling like I need to go and answer my phone. A feeling like something is not right.  So I get up and walk out of the theater to see what is going on. I look at my phone, 17 missed calls, from a number of sisters. Great,
here we go again. I scroll through and call back the one that is going to be the
most level headed and hopefully not scream at me right off the bat. 
She answers and her voice is pretty shaky. “What’s going on? Why are all
of you calling me over and over?” I demand.  “Alissa is dead.” 

Well hello friends! It's now noon on Tuesday morning and time to choose a winner for the 2 Hello Kitty purses. Here's how it went down: I numbered each comment left and added in an extra entry for those who shared the link, plus I gave an extra entry to Carolyn who commented on the link on FB. 
So your numbers were:
1-Tarynia
2- Tarynia
3- Diana
4- Chelsea
5- Kristen
6- Misty
7- Misty
8- Carolyn
Then I headed over to random.org and entered my high and low. 6 was the first number it generated and then it picked 2.
MISTY and TARYNIA You two are the new owners of the purses!!! Hope you enjoy them. :)

Now on to another tutorial.
I went back and forth about whether or not I should do another sewing tutorial or a cooking one or a scrapbooking one or a furniture refinishing one. My deciding factor was a visit to pintrest where I saw this dress:

I needed to make it. And I just happened to have a yard of pink knit fabric that I got in the remnant bin for 50% off that I was looking for the perfect pattern for. So you get another sewing tutorial.

First let me tell you, sewing with knit fabric is not for beginners. It is a pain. If you are a beginner sewer, use this tutorial with a cotton fabric. It will still be super cute.  Furthermore, you need to use a ball point needle on your machine when sewing with knits, so using a serger is out, unless you have a wierd fedish for threading those beasts. Luckily knit does not frey so you don't need to finish your edges, a simple straight stitch will do just fine to keep it all together. And lastly, when you are done sewing with your knit fabric don't forget to switch your need back to a standard one. If you don't it will poke large holes in other fabrics and make you stitch tension not good.

Secondly, this is complicated sewing in general. You will be making your own pattern and doing a few tricks that took me a while to ge thte hang of. I don't want you to think I am discouraging you to try it, I am just saying don't run a marathon until you have trained for it.

Okay, now on with the step by step.
To get make a pattern you are going to need a shirt that fits the person you are wanting to make this dress for, one that fits loosely. Turn the shirt inside out and fold it in half so the sleeves are to your right.  Using newspaper, butcher paper or any other paper large enough trace around the body of the shirt and around the seam where the sleeve joins the body. Like this, adjusting the neck line as you see fit:

KEEP THIS DRAWING FOR FUTURE REFERENCE FOR OTHER DRESSES YOU MIGHT WANT TO MAKE. It is a very standard bodice pattern and can be easily adjusted  for pretty much any dress you make.
Cut this out and mark the line opposite the  sleeve as a center fold.  Now take the cut out where the sleeve goes and trace it in pencil along the edge of paper leaving a space to finish the rest of the sleeve drawing.  You are going to make that first cup shape into more of an S shape, but you need that measurement  from your bodice pattern.

(first trace the arm hole...)

...then soften the edges and make it an S shape.
Measure the arm length of the person you are making the dress for  from the top of their shoulder to the bottom of their wrist. your top line will be that distance, then make a staight linedown about 1.5 inches  for a toddler, 3 inches for an adult (adjust as you need to) and conect the bottom of the S shape to the bottom of the cuff line. Mark the top, longer line as a fold line. You will be keeping this as a basic sleeve pattern, so if you are ambitious, measure the arm of the person for the pattern where different sleeve lengths reach their arm and mark it on the pattern so you won't have to always measure them.

Now that you have your basic patterns for a bodice and a sleeve, you are going to adjust them for this specific dress.
This has a very high waist band- even higher than an empire waist; it is cut at the bottom of the sleeve. So we are going to take our basic bodice pattern and place the fold line on a fold of our fabric and fold the paper patten up to the bottom of the sleeve. Pin it and cut 2 of these.  Then take you sleeve pattern and place the fold line on a fold of fabric and cut 2 of these.
  NOTE: If your fabric has a right and a wrong side you will need to cut out  1 sleeve and one bodice with the top of the  pattern (the side that you wrote on) facing up and one set with the top of the pattern facing down. Knit fabric doesn't have a right or wrong side, so it saves a little time.  Then cut 2 skirt pieces that go from bias edge to bias edge of your fabric and as long as you want the dress to be measuring from under the arm to the deisred length. Kenaley, for instance  had a 19 inch length. You will also need 2 pockets 4 inches by 6 inches with a cupped bottom and 2 pieces for the bow detail on the pocket that are 1 inch by 3 inches, finally you will need strips of fabric that are 2" wide by the width of your fabric- 3 of them, that we will be using for bias tape and the bottom ruffle. 

(this picture does not include the 2" strips)

On with sewing!
You are first going to take the 2 bodice pieces and sew the shoulder straps together. like this:

At this point I cheated. Usually you will finish the neck line off with bais tape, by ironing your 2 inch strips 1/2 inch  in on each side and then ironing that in half, pinning and sewing it to the neck line. You WILL unpick and you WILL hate it. I hate bias tape and have come up with this little cheat that only works with knit fabric. Iron your neck line on the right side of the fabric down 1/4 inch- it doesn't need to be exact, just eyeball it and make it even the whole way around. Then take that over to the sewing machine, line it up under your presser foot  and fold it down one more time, don't attempt to double iron this seam because it is too smal and you will just get fed up with it and give up.  Put your presser foot down and lower your needle by hand into the fabric to hold it in place while you fold over the next little bit that is feeding into the machine. STITCH SLOWLY and right on the edge of the double fold.

You are going to have a little bit of a bump at each shoulder seam, open the seam up and then when you are done stitching, clip it off.  Do this same thing with the bottom cuff of your sleeve.
Then you are going to attach the sleeve to the bodice.  You do this by pinning the S shape into the sleeve opening on the bodice.

Like this. Then just line up the two edges of the fabric and straight stitch the edge on bothe sleeves. You should now have what somewhat resembles a very short shirt with sleeves when you fold it in half.

 SEE!!
Okay, now we are going to work on the 2 pockets for the skirt. First you need to iron a 1/4" seam all the way around the pocket. You will more than likely want to use startch when you do this, because its a small seam on a small piece of fabric. Once you have it ironed, stitch just across the top of the pocket (the flat side) then you are goign to take the the little tab that we cut out and iron 1/4 inch on each long side then make the two ends meet in the middle and iron it again, you can see it pictured just above the pocket.

Once you've got both pieces ironed and the top stitched on the pocket we are goign to make the cute bow detail for the top.  Take your tab and pin it 2 inches down from the top in the center of the back. 


 

Stitch it going once forward and once backwards then forwards again. Flip the  pocket over and fold the excess length of the tab so you have about 1/2 inch remaining. Pull it  down so it just goes over the first stitch you made, esentially covering it up  and stitch it the same way you did on the back side. It will look like this:

Now we are going to attach it to the skirt. Fold one of your skirt pieces into quarters, put a pin in the corner of the folds and unfold itf. Fold it the opposite way and put another pin in that corner. You should have 2 pins in about the same distance in and same distance down.  Place the pocket in this general area, but adjust it as you want to. Pin the bottom and sides then make the top edge as staight as you want it to be and pin that down. Stitch right on the edge of the pocket around the sides and bottom, reversing at the top of each side for strength.   (I got a little excited at this point and forgot to take a picture of this step... sorry)

Next we need to gather our top edge of both skirt pieces. We do this by doing the longest straight stitch on our machine then pulling the top thread on each side and evening out the ruffle. As soon as you are done sttiching in that long stitch, switch your stitch length back to a 2.5-3 or you will forget and have to double stitch the next step. Like I did.   Pin the skirt to the bodice bottom and stitch along the gathered stitch so it doesn't show through to the front.

It should look something like this now...

Now we are going to put our right sides together and stitch from the cuff of the arm all the way down to the bottom of the skirt along the edge. Make sure to match the two ends of the cuff up really well, the other seams should match pretty close too, but this will be the one that looks the worst if it doesn't match.
Now we are going to add the ruffle at the bottom of the skirt. Take the 2" strips that you cut and sew them together so you have one long strip of fabric. Iron this in half with the right side out. Then you do do a ruffle in the same way that we did for the skirt. You may want to make a few stitch breaks in the center of the fabric to make gathering easier. Once you have a good even ruffle pin this to the bottom of the skirt with the two edges together. Like this:

Now you are going to stitch the ruffle to the skirt following the rathered stitch so it doesn't show through. Iron your seam up towards the top of the dress and then do a top stitch 1/8 inch from the seam. It looks better with a top stitch and will help the dress from rolling up.  Now we are going to stitch the other side of the dress up starting from the cuff of the arm. 
You just finished your dress!!!!!
It should somewhat resemble this:

SO CUTE!!!!!
I know you can't wait to start one yourself...but if you are intimidaited by the whole process and just don't think you can do it; call me! I would love to come and help you. Or you can buy the fabric you want and drop it off to me and I will make one for you for only $15!!  It's a screaming deal!!

Happy Sewing !!

Look how cute this skirt is...
 I am going to give you a step by step- with pictures on how to make this skirt in (possibly) under an hour. That's how long it took me, but I make no gaunantees. :)

Step 1: The person whom you are making the skirt for needs to be measured.  From the waist (where they like their pants to sit, which is usually just below the belly button) to the length that you want the skirt. I wanted it to fit Kenaley just below the knees, so her measurement was 10  inches. Then you need to add 1/2 an inch for a seam allowance. Then you need to do a little simple math: that number needs to be divided by 3, as close as you can get it. For me it was 3 1/2 inches. 

Next, you are going to cut 3 pieces of fabric remnant to remnant edge, the first one being the length that you want the dress plus 1/2 and inch, the next one being that meausurement minus 1/3 the length (so for me it was 7 inches) and the other being minus 2/3 the length (so for me it was 3 1/2 inches)
Then you will need one more piece of the same fabric that measures twice the width of your elastic that you are using plus one inch, I was using 1 1/2 inch elastic so I made a strip 4 inches wide from remnant to remnant edge.

The last cuts that you will be making are for your trim at the bottom of each layer. These are 2 1/2 inches wide from remnant to remnant edge.  I bought a fat quarter so I needed to cut more than 3, but if you buy just a strip of fabric by the yard, you will only need 3 of these.  Sew them together only if you bought a fat quarter.

Next iron these in half, with the right side of the fabric out.  Then sew it to the bottom edge of each strip of fabric except the waist band. 

Next, you are going to iron these...2 times. First time you are going to iron the right side of the fabric making sure to get the seam ironed out really well. Then flip it over and iron the seam down because you are going to do some top stitching and it sews nicer when you have more than one layer.

Now for top stitching- because it makes it look more finished. You will want to line up the edge of your trim with the inside tooth of your presser foot.
Let me explain that a little better: The front of your presser foot has two teeth, one on either side. Normally when you sew you want a 1/4 inch seam and so you line up your fabric with the outside of your presser foot to gage that seam length. When you are top stitching, you only want an 1/8 inch seam, so you line it up with the inside of the tooth to gage that distance.  You follow??

Next you are going to take both of your short ends of your fabric and sew them together with the right side together, so you essentially have 3 continious loops of fabric. It is more important to line up the bottom edge of your fabric with the trim on it than the top, because the top will not be showing.

Now you are going to take the three layers of your skirt and put them together  with the longest one on the inside, middle length in the middle and the shortest on the outside. Put a few pins in it to hold it in place then stitch it together. You can use a loose stitch, because this is just to make the next steps easier to finish.

Now you are going to take the waist band, sew the two short ends together, then you are going to iron it in half with the right side of the fabric facing out.  Pin this to the skirt and then sew the two together LEAVING about a 3 inch opening  so you can feed your elastic in.

A gap like this.  Measure around the waist of the person that you are making this skirt for, then take off 1/2 an inch from that and cut a piece of elastic.

Now here is my little bonus tip of the day- technically 2 of them. :) When you
feed your elastic in, put a large safetly pin on the edge that you are feeding
in so you have something that is not flimsy to feed through the sleeve. It helps
a lot.
PLUS!! ....

If you double pin the opposite end of the elastic so you don't just pull it through, it will save you frutration in the end. Put one pin going one way and another pin going the opposite way so they won't get pulled out.  Once you get the elastic all pulled through  lay the two ends flat on top of each other, not right sides together or you are going to have a lump inside your waist band, and zig zag over the ends once forward, once backwards and then forward again.  Pull the fabric flat so that you can  sew up the gap and then you are through!!!

SO CUTE!!!. If you are creative enough, you can use three different fabric to make it even funner!!

 I have done it in this similar skirt, but I wanted to try a little something different with this one. 
And sadly, I did not take pictures of when I was making this skirt. I could give you a verbal how to, but no pictures to help out. Just comment below if you want to learn how to make this one as well. :) This one has a tight ruffle on the bottom and a long tailed bow on it as well. I love the way it turned out too.


So you survived all the way through a tutorial blog on sewing....
You should be proud.

AND SURPRISED!!
Because I want some feedback and if you will give it to me, then  you will be entered to win one of these totally cute kids purses that I also made today ...

Here's how you do it:
Enter a comment on this blog, you hated it, you loved it, it made no sense, I talk too much...whatever you feel you want to say.
 
But be kind.

You will be entered 1 time for commenting.

If you want to enter more times, then share my link on your blog/facebook page or pin this tutorial to your pinboard. One extra entry will be given for each bonus item that you do. Let me know that you did such so you will get your extra entries.
 I have 2 purses that I will be giving away so your chances are already doubled!!
Drawing will be done on Tuesday (September 18)  morning so make sure that you get it all done before then and I will announce the winner with a new tutorial as well!!!

THANKS FOR YOUR FEEDBACK!!!