Dear Charlie,
Here is your birthday letter. It is five months late, but that's par for the course. I can't, however let the year go by without recording a few thoughts about you. Where to begin? It's been a big year for you. This year, you lost two teeth and played soccer. You discovered Star Wars and (unfortunately) Pokémon. You still remember and retain everything and it is incredible to see you learning and applying your knowledge to new situations. You've never met a stranger. You love to chat with anyone and it doesn't occur to you to be shy.
This age-six years old is a tough one too. It's the time when you start to feel embarrassment. You're starting to enter the time when some of your jokes aren't cute, they are really just annoying. And that's unfamiliar territory. Sometimes I think you desperately want to be cute, but if anyone treats you as though you are cute and little, you're offended.
When we were choosing your name, we loved Charlie for a bunch of reasons-the primary reason was/is that Charlie is the name of everyone's friend. In every book, movie, song and story it seems that there is a friend named Charlie. You have lived up to our idea more than we could have dreamed. You really love everyone. You consider every person your friend and your equal. You will sit and chat with my grandpa for an hour. You adore and love to spend time with Bapoo's Hispanic employees. You play with everyone on the playground. I've observed you on playdates. You are very calm and measured. You don't get upset easily. I've been surprised how polite you are-and not just the "please and thank you" stuff, you really listen to your little friends and respond with questions or thoughtful comments.
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
Monday, November 23, 2015
The Story of John Henry
I've never met a birth story I didn't like. A birth is so much goodness wrapped up in tiny little fingers and soft blankets and warm milk. It's the thinning of the veil and the growth of a family. It's getting acquainted with a little stranger through snuggles and sacrifice. Boyd K. Packer described it perfectly when he said, "Every time a child is born, the world is renewed in innocence." When all the pain, tears and just plain yuckiness lead to the renewing of the world, the story of a birth is a good story.
As I sat down to write about how our little Henry came into this world, I realized that although he is the star of the story, the story isn't about him. Henry's story is a collection of kindness. I can't think of his birth without feeling the renewal of hope and a desire to act on the impulse to be kind. Cam told me that in Spanish, the literal of translation of "to give birth" is "to give light." A most perfect phrase, is it not? The light is so bright and it reflects off every surface and everybody. When a baby is born, we are all a little more kind, a little more gentle and a little more loving.
When my water broke unexpectedly at 6 am on Memorial Day (one week before my scheduled cesarean) I was almost immediately bathed in kindness. I had just helped Stella to the bathroom and though she's almost always completely contrary these days, she went to her room and waited quietly while I grabbed a towel and tried to calm my racing heart. I summoned my sleeping husband, who after hearing it repeated a few times, finally smiled and cheered "we're having a baby today!" He went right to work doing all the things that he knew I'd need done; waking, dressing and feeding the kids and packing up the things he knew I'd need.
I woke my parents with a phone call and without a thought about the holiday plans that would be waylaid, they were on their way to get Charlie and Stella settled at their house and to meet Cam and I at the hospital. Cam's parents were also woken up with a phone call and immediately began preparations to drive from St. George. Cam and my dad were full of concern and frustrated at my leisurely pace-only envisioning the frantic rush to the hospital in various tv shows and movies.
The charge nurse at the hospital was one of my favorites from my two previous stays at the hospital. She was so funny and took such good care of me. Mom had alerted the masses and within an hour Jessica, Hayley and Abby had all arrived to take photos and watch the C-section and just not miss out on anything (as that is most important for the Roberts family). My surgery nurse ran out and got an extra cute hat for me to wear in surgery and the charge nurse convinced the anesthesiologist to ignore the tiny muffin I'd eaten and move ahead with surgery right away.
In a most tender mercy, the anesthesiologist working was a woman who was so calm and kind during the spinal block and all the other preparations. She was reassuring and piling warm blankets on me and I loved her. Thankfully, my beloved Dr. Judd was on call that particular holiday and soon arrived to delivery my baby boy.
It was a strange thing to lie there on the table listening to the nurses count out sponges and check temperatures, feeling quite helpless and alone. Then they brought Cam in to sit by my head and I felt so much peace. He held my hand and shared his excitement and love for me. Gosh, he's a good man. I can't think about my hospital experience without thinking about how much he loves me. The doctors and nurses calmly chatted away and then before we knew it, sweet Henry was crying. He was chubby and sweet. The nurses and respiratory therapist made sure I could see him while they weighed and checked him. Cam held him briefly and brought him to me to see, then they were hustled off to the nursery while I was closed up.
An aside: I have not, with any of my three babies felt overly emotional or the incredible feelings of love that I so often hear people describe. Perhaps it would be different if I delivered them and held them on my chest right away. But, I sort of think that it wouldn't. When they arrive they are sweet and wonderful, but also strangers. It isn't until we've spent hours staring at each other and I've watched them sleep and learned their cries that I feel overwhelming love.
I was hoping that Cam and Henry would be waiting for me when I arrived in my room, but they weren't. The next little while is a bit fuzzy in my memory. People coming and going from my room...Henry not breathing well...on c-pap...waiting....tests and oxygen...heart murmur...Mike and Deb arrived...everyone telling me how cute he was and so strong...Charlie and Stella came to the hospital to see their brother, but they could hardly see him through the windows with all the tubes and wires. Cam would go in the little NICU and take pictures and send them to my phone. I wasn't worried at all. I knew we were the only patients in our little wing of the hospital and they were probably taking extra precautions.
As the day wore on, I became a little more worried. The respiratory therapist came to talk with us about his concerns and the problems sweet Henry was having. His lungs weren't expanding right. He was moaning with each breath, which meant it was labored and something was wrong. He had a noticeable and concerning heart murmur. They tried turning down his oxygen, but his little body needed it badly. In the late afternoon, I was up walking to the bathroom and asked the nurse to help me walk to the nursery so I could see Henry. I felt good walking to where was on his little warming bed. He was so chubby and wonderful. After a few moments I got faint and nauseous. The nurses went running for wheelchairs and gently hurried me back to my room.
Kevin and Leona came to see us, my parents and Mike and Deb were still there and I was completely overwhelmed. At one point everyone was coming and going from my room and I told them all to leave. I needed to sit with Cam and sort things out. We counseled with the pediatrician who had arrived and examined the baby. She was also concerned about his heart murmur and felt that he needed and echo right away. Unfortunately, there was nobody at Orem Community Hospital to read an echo on a holiday. He'd need to be transferred to Utah Valley Regional Medical Center, but I would stay put.
I was wheeled into the NICU shortly before the ambulance transfer arrived to spend a few minutes with the baby. Cam, Mike, Kevin and my dad gathered around his little bed and Cam gave him a powerful blessing. I don't remember many of the exact words, but I do remember him saying, rather forcefully, "we want this baby. We want him in our family." I sat in a puddle in my wheelchair. I was crying so hard. It caught me off guard that there might be a real problem. It occurred to me that they don't take babies away from their mamas unless they need more help than the mama can give.
The nurses were hustling around, bringing tissues and reassurance. One nurse saw what a mess I was, came up behind me and gave me a huge hug and promised me he'd be okay. I'm not too touchy-feely, but that tenderness and kindess that I felt was so appreciated.
The transport team arrived with the lead respiratory therapist from Utah Valley NICU. They gathered all his information and transferred him to their machines. They promised we'd be able to hold him before they left. I hadn't held my baby yet and I was aching to. I sat in my wheelchair next to his little bed and sobbed. Uncontrollable, ugly sobs. At this point Cam and I were completely exhausted. I'd had a major surgery and Cam had been back and forth between me and the babe all day long, trying to keep me from worrying too much.
I think this sounds awful, but
As I sat down to write about how our little Henry came into this world, I realized that although he is the star of the story, the story isn't about him. Henry's story is a collection of kindness. I can't think of his birth without feeling the renewal of hope and a desire to act on the impulse to be kind. Cam told me that in Spanish, the literal of translation of "to give birth" is "to give light." A most perfect phrase, is it not? The light is so bright and it reflects off every surface and everybody. When a baby is born, we are all a little more kind, a little more gentle and a little more loving.
When my water broke unexpectedly at 6 am on Memorial Day (one week before my scheduled cesarean) I was almost immediately bathed in kindness. I had just helped Stella to the bathroom and though she's almost always completely contrary these days, she went to her room and waited quietly while I grabbed a towel and tried to calm my racing heart. I summoned my sleeping husband, who after hearing it repeated a few times, finally smiled and cheered "we're having a baby today!" He went right to work doing all the things that he knew I'd need done; waking, dressing and feeding the kids and packing up the things he knew I'd need.
I woke my parents with a phone call and without a thought about the holiday plans that would be waylaid, they were on their way to get Charlie and Stella settled at their house and to meet Cam and I at the hospital. Cam's parents were also woken up with a phone call and immediately began preparations to drive from St. George. Cam and my dad were full of concern and frustrated at my leisurely pace-only envisioning the frantic rush to the hospital in various tv shows and movies.
The charge nurse at the hospital was one of my favorites from my two previous stays at the hospital. She was so funny and took such good care of me. Mom had alerted the masses and within an hour Jessica, Hayley and Abby had all arrived to take photos and watch the C-section and just not miss out on anything (as that is most important for the Roberts family). My surgery nurse ran out and got an extra cute hat for me to wear in surgery and the charge nurse convinced the anesthesiologist to ignore the tiny muffin I'd eaten and move ahead with surgery right away.
In a most tender mercy, the anesthesiologist working was a woman who was so calm and kind during the spinal block and all the other preparations. She was reassuring and piling warm blankets on me and I loved her. Thankfully, my beloved Dr. Judd was on call that particular holiday and soon arrived to delivery my baby boy.
It was a strange thing to lie there on the table listening to the nurses count out sponges and check temperatures, feeling quite helpless and alone. Then they brought Cam in to sit by my head and I felt so much peace. He held my hand and shared his excitement and love for me. Gosh, he's a good man. I can't think about my hospital experience without thinking about how much he loves me. The doctors and nurses calmly chatted away and then before we knew it, sweet Henry was crying. He was chubby and sweet. The nurses and respiratory therapist made sure I could see him while they weighed and checked him. Cam held him briefly and brought him to me to see, then they were hustled off to the nursery while I was closed up.
An aside: I have not, with any of my three babies felt overly emotional or the incredible feelings of love that I so often hear people describe. Perhaps it would be different if I delivered them and held them on my chest right away. But, I sort of think that it wouldn't. When they arrive they are sweet and wonderful, but also strangers. It isn't until we've spent hours staring at each other and I've watched them sleep and learned their cries that I feel overwhelming love.
I was hoping that Cam and Henry would be waiting for me when I arrived in my room, but they weren't. The next little while is a bit fuzzy in my memory. People coming and going from my room...Henry not breathing well...on c-pap...waiting....tests and oxygen...heart murmur...Mike and Deb arrived...everyone telling me how cute he was and so strong...Charlie and Stella came to the hospital to see their brother, but they could hardly see him through the windows with all the tubes and wires. Cam would go in the little NICU and take pictures and send them to my phone. I wasn't worried at all. I knew we were the only patients in our little wing of the hospital and they were probably taking extra precautions.
As the day wore on, I became a little more worried. The respiratory therapist came to talk with us about his concerns and the problems sweet Henry was having. His lungs weren't expanding right. He was moaning with each breath, which meant it was labored and something was wrong. He had a noticeable and concerning heart murmur. They tried turning down his oxygen, but his little body needed it badly. In the late afternoon, I was up walking to the bathroom and asked the nurse to help me walk to the nursery so I could see Henry. I felt good walking to where was on his little warming bed. He was so chubby and wonderful. After a few moments I got faint and nauseous. The nurses went running for wheelchairs and gently hurried me back to my room.
Kevin and Leona came to see us, my parents and Mike and Deb were still there and I was completely overwhelmed. At one point everyone was coming and going from my room and I told them all to leave. I needed to sit with Cam and sort things out. We counseled with the pediatrician who had arrived and examined the baby. She was also concerned about his heart murmur and felt that he needed and echo right away. Unfortunately, there was nobody at Orem Community Hospital to read an echo on a holiday. He'd need to be transferred to Utah Valley Regional Medical Center, but I would stay put.
I was wheeled into the NICU shortly before the ambulance transfer arrived to spend a few minutes with the baby. Cam, Mike, Kevin and my dad gathered around his little bed and Cam gave him a powerful blessing. I don't remember many of the exact words, but I do remember him saying, rather forcefully, "we want this baby. We want him in our family." I sat in a puddle in my wheelchair. I was crying so hard. It caught me off guard that there might be a real problem. It occurred to me that they don't take babies away from their mamas unless they need more help than the mama can give.
The nurses were hustling around, bringing tissues and reassurance. One nurse saw what a mess I was, came up behind me and gave me a huge hug and promised me he'd be okay. I'm not too touchy-feely, but that tenderness and kindess that I felt was so appreciated.
The transport team arrived with the lead respiratory therapist from Utah Valley NICU. They gathered all his information and transferred him to their machines. They promised we'd be able to hold him before they left. I hadn't held my baby yet and I was aching to. I sat in my wheelchair next to his little bed and sobbed. Uncontrollable, ugly sobs. At this point Cam and I were completely exhausted. I'd had a major surgery and Cam had been back and forth between me and the babe all day long, trying to keep me from worrying too much.
I think this sounds awful, but
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Some Truth
I think that we learn great truths in times of darkness. Today was a dark day. It felt as though a cloud settled on our house, then sneaked into all the nooks and crannies, filling them with discouragement and hopelessness. It was almost tangible-that darkness. Most days Cam and I take turns lifting each other-when one is struggling, the other rallies and rescues. Today, we were both weighed down by the darkness.
We decided that for today success would be making it through until tomorrow, so that's what we tried to do. After everything went wrong, I gave up on making dinner and drove to the pizza place to buy it, which is when I discovered I had no money with me. As we drove to Nana's house as a last resort, I started thinking about the timing of this feeling of despair. A quote came to my mind about how Satan is the author of discouragement and these feelings never come from our loving Heavenly Father. This coming week will be an important, even vital week for Cam and his business. His business will do incredible things. We've been told by countless people who learn the ins and outs of it that it will change the world. I believe it has that power. Then, I thought that certainly Satan wants us to be discouraged on this eve of success and beginning an important work.
My mind felt a little lighter and I felt a new truth come into my heart. I am always doing the most important work. Cam's business is important and Heavenly Father is very involved in it, but the work we are doing as parents and teaching the gospel is more vital than anything else. Satan is always working to make me feel disheartened in my work as a wife and mother. If I do nothing else, I will be successful if I have raised secure children who know who they are and love the Lord. When I focus on that goal, it's a little easier to drive out the darkness and replace it with love and light.
Goodness, I love being a mom. I want nothing more than for these little ones of mine to grow up to be righteous. I want them to be leaders and bring others the joy of the gospel. Satan will always fight against us, but the light of the Savior will force him out of our home and far from our hearts.
We'll have no more terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad days around here. I know what we're up against and that the stakes are high. I have to light up my home and family so that there's nowhere for the cloud of darkness to set up camp. I'm so grateful for the gospel and for all the tools I have to keep this family of mine on the path. They are so worth the fight
We decided that for today success would be making it through until tomorrow, so that's what we tried to do. After everything went wrong, I gave up on making dinner and drove to the pizza place to buy it, which is when I discovered I had no money with me. As we drove to Nana's house as a last resort, I started thinking about the timing of this feeling of despair. A quote came to my mind about how Satan is the author of discouragement and these feelings never come from our loving Heavenly Father. This coming week will be an important, even vital week for Cam and his business. His business will do incredible things. We've been told by countless people who learn the ins and outs of it that it will change the world. I believe it has that power. Then, I thought that certainly Satan wants us to be discouraged on this eve of success and beginning an important work.
My mind felt a little lighter and I felt a new truth come into my heart. I am always doing the most important work. Cam's business is important and Heavenly Father is very involved in it, but the work we are doing as parents and teaching the gospel is more vital than anything else. Satan is always working to make me feel disheartened in my work as a wife and mother. If I do nothing else, I will be successful if I have raised secure children who know who they are and love the Lord. When I focus on that goal, it's a little easier to drive out the darkness and replace it with love and light.
Goodness, I love being a mom. I want nothing more than for these little ones of mine to grow up to be righteous. I want them to be leaders and bring others the joy of the gospel. Satan will always fight against us, but the light of the Savior will force him out of our home and far from our hearts.
We'll have no more terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad days around here. I know what we're up against and that the stakes are high. I have to light up my home and family so that there's nowhere for the cloud of darkness to set up camp. I'm so grateful for the gospel and for all the tools I have to keep this family of mine on the path. They are so worth the fight
Monday, August 24, 2015
Summit
I have so much to write about-like adding a child to our family for one, but I want to write down what's in my heart really quick.
Cam's been gone this weekend to the Summit Series. It's a super exclusive, invitation only retreat for people who are interesting, influential and otherwise important. He's meeting and bonding with incredible thought leaders and the rich and famous. It's an incredible experience. It's surreal to know these people who have been so far outside our little world. It's also been wonderful because Cam went with the intention of building his business and making connections, but primarily to share the gospel. He's apparently now known as "The Mormon" and has had dozens of conversations about the church and gospel principles. He's talking about families and God and people are constantly drawn to him, or rather to the light of Christ and the Spirit that is with him. He's so overwhelmed and grateful for the opportunity to be an example and an instrument.
When he called me a few minutes ago, he said that people were pouring into his condo to party-filling the place with music and beer. As we talked, he was tearing up while sharing his testimony with me. I was folding clothes at 1 am in the living room, surrounded by army men and beads strung onto strings by a determined little girl. There's spilled milk on the table, spilled juice on the floor and piles of dirty laundry.
It's important for Cam to be where he is. I think it's the beginning of the realization of his plans and God's plans for him and for our family. When we talked about business or a career he used to say that he just wanted to be in a place where he could "influence the influencers." I think that's happening. And I couldn't be more grateful to be here at home surrounded by my little sweeties.
I'll be woken up in a few short hours by Henry sucking on his fists and thumping his legs against the cradle. I'll pick him up in the dark, make him a bottle, change his diaper and fall asleep while I feed him in the rocking chair. I'll burp him and swaddle him and put him back in bed. I'll fall asleep and wake up to Charlie climbing into bed next to be to snuggle and play with my hair. Henry will wake again at 6:30 and once again I'll make a bottle and snuggle him close while he eats. Then Charlie will be awake. I'll send him potty and make him breakfast and turn on a show for him to watch while I sleep for a little while longer. I'll wake up to Stella tapping on my forehead or snuggling into bed next to me. She'll want "sugar toast" and milk for breakfast and she'll have to pour it herself.
And so it goes. And it is so perfect. They'll fight and hit. They'll complain about turning off their show to do chores. They'll cry and possibly tell me I'm the worst mom ever, but I wouldn't choose to be anywhere else.
I'm so grateful to be with these incredible little people, trying to teach them the gospel and prepare them to do good in the world. We stayed at my parent's house until after dark tonight with Charlie and Stella riding their bikes up and down the street, while I held Henry. They had the biggest smiles on their faces and were so full of joy. Stella would cry if Charlie got ahead of her and he would patiently slow down and let her take the lead. As Stella would come flying down past us, her feet up and that little pink balance bike wobbling all over the road. She'd call "clap! Clap for me guys!" and we did. Stella saw a cat that she thought was a baby fox and Charlie convinced Hayley to drive him and his bike to the top of the hill on the golf cart because he was so worn out.
On the way home Charlie suggested that we tell ghost stories-because Halloween is only two months away and it was dark outside. He continued trying to tell one amid my protests and Stella's screaming. Then we talked Halloween costumes and Stella suggested that we say a prayer so that Heavenly Father could make Halloween come sooner.
I just love them so much. I love our lives together and the way that they make me want to be better. I taught the lesson in Relief Society today. It was from Elder Christofferson about the sacred and vital role of marriage and family in God's plan. It is true. I know it is. And I love it
Cam's been gone this weekend to the Summit Series. It's a super exclusive, invitation only retreat for people who are interesting, influential and otherwise important. He's meeting and bonding with incredible thought leaders and the rich and famous. It's an incredible experience. It's surreal to know these people who have been so far outside our little world. It's also been wonderful because Cam went with the intention of building his business and making connections, but primarily to share the gospel. He's apparently now known as "The Mormon" and has had dozens of conversations about the church and gospel principles. He's talking about families and God and people are constantly drawn to him, or rather to the light of Christ and the Spirit that is with him. He's so overwhelmed and grateful for the opportunity to be an example and an instrument.
When he called me a few minutes ago, he said that people were pouring into his condo to party-filling the place with music and beer. As we talked, he was tearing up while sharing his testimony with me. I was folding clothes at 1 am in the living room, surrounded by army men and beads strung onto strings by a determined little girl. There's spilled milk on the table, spilled juice on the floor and piles of dirty laundry.
It's important for Cam to be where he is. I think it's the beginning of the realization of his plans and God's plans for him and for our family. When we talked about business or a career he used to say that he just wanted to be in a place where he could "influence the influencers." I think that's happening. And I couldn't be more grateful to be here at home surrounded by my little sweeties.
I'll be woken up in a few short hours by Henry sucking on his fists and thumping his legs against the cradle. I'll pick him up in the dark, make him a bottle, change his diaper and fall asleep while I feed him in the rocking chair. I'll burp him and swaddle him and put him back in bed. I'll fall asleep and wake up to Charlie climbing into bed next to be to snuggle and play with my hair. Henry will wake again at 6:30 and once again I'll make a bottle and snuggle him close while he eats. Then Charlie will be awake. I'll send him potty and make him breakfast and turn on a show for him to watch while I sleep for a little while longer. I'll wake up to Stella tapping on my forehead or snuggling into bed next to me. She'll want "sugar toast" and milk for breakfast and she'll have to pour it herself.
And so it goes. And it is so perfect. They'll fight and hit. They'll complain about turning off their show to do chores. They'll cry and possibly tell me I'm the worst mom ever, but I wouldn't choose to be anywhere else.
I'm so grateful to be with these incredible little people, trying to teach them the gospel and prepare them to do good in the world. We stayed at my parent's house until after dark tonight with Charlie and Stella riding their bikes up and down the street, while I held Henry. They had the biggest smiles on their faces and were so full of joy. Stella would cry if Charlie got ahead of her and he would patiently slow down and let her take the lead. As Stella would come flying down past us, her feet up and that little pink balance bike wobbling all over the road. She'd call "clap! Clap for me guys!" and we did. Stella saw a cat that she thought was a baby fox and Charlie convinced Hayley to drive him and his bike to the top of the hill on the golf cart because he was so worn out.
On the way home Charlie suggested that we tell ghost stories-because Halloween is only two months away and it was dark outside. He continued trying to tell one amid my protests and Stella's screaming. Then we talked Halloween costumes and Stella suggested that we say a prayer so that Heavenly Father could make Halloween come sooner.
I just love them so much. I love our lives together and the way that they make me want to be better. I taught the lesson in Relief Society today. It was from Elder Christofferson about the sacred and vital role of marriage and family in God's plan. It is true. I know it is. And I love it
Thursday, May 14, 2015
Beginning of April 2015
Stella, my best little sidekick, is always "packing." If you mention leaving the house, she's frantically running around "grabbing some thtuff." She always looks like a bag lady and I feel like one too. This is how we walked to school to pick up Charlie.
A snap Cam sent me Charlie "working" at my parents' house with Miguel. He adores being their on Saturday and follows around Miguel and Luis. He honestly works his tail off and loves it. But he doesn't say "no" to a wheelbarrow ride.
I know that all the pictures I've been using are blurry and really terrible quality, and there are tons of typos-and there are few things that bother me as much as typos, but it's still helping me record some of our life. When blogging in retrospect and with a crazy pregnant brain, at night and from my phone, it's about as good as it's going to get. Besides, when I look back through the blog, I remember so many little things that are sweet, but so quickly forgotten. Here's to catching up on the blog!
Monday, April 27, 2015
The rest of March
Happy day. These two are finally becoming friends! Makes my mama heart so happy
Cam was at young men's, but I was able to take the kids and meet up with his darling cousins. My kids have never been happier and completely adored them. As do I. 
As per her usual, Stella was in fine plumbers form.
The way these two go out in public
Hayley dropped by one night, which is always a highlight for the kids. She got to read their bedtime stories!
It's so easy to get a nice shot of these two. Not.
Morning scripture study. Only battling parts, obviously
Dresses himself everyday
We bought loads of dress-up clothes
Felted wool Easter eggs at festival
Stella always brings pets along
Playing tag with dad
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