July 21, 2013

Georgie rode his bike in the Neighborhood Pioneer Parade.  At church today a member of the bishopric asked him if he had fun at the parade, to which he responded, "I so tired of riding my bike."  The progress was slow, but he was darling.

It really was quite charming with the missionaries leading the way on scooters.  And it was wonderful because the parade route went right by our house and our big tree provided a lot of great shade for spectators.

Last night Abe and I and Elinor and Faith went downtown to the Conference Center for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir's Pioneer Day concert featuring Lindsey Sterling and Nathan Pachenco.  It was really magnificent, but the evening was somewhat marred for me because of something I did as we arrived at the Conference Center.

I lied.

As we were walking to get in line at the door we were to enter an usher lady stopped me and looking at Faith she said, "Do you know this event is for ages 8 and up?"
Now I knew this.  But in my rationalizing mind I figured they set 8 as a guideline to make sure they wouldn't have crying babies and distracting toddlers.  I know my Faith  and she is quite sweet and well behaved and not at all prone to tantrums.  And besides, she will be turning 8 in March.  Unfortunately she is really little and could easily pass for a five or six year old.

So I responded, "Yes, I know.  She is good."
Couldn't the woman have left well enough alone with that response?  I didn't actually lie.  I simply said she was good.  She is good on many levels.
But no, she delved deeper, "So she is 8?"
"Yes."  Oh good heavens, I just lied to someone at the Conference Center!  AND FAITH HEARD ME DO IT!   I'm feeling bad and hoping that perhaps the shame of a public confessional can alleviate my guilt.

So in other upsetting events this weekend, Abe took the crib down today.  In some cases this is a cause for celebration-- signaling the end of the challenging baby years-- the sign of moving on to the next phase of family life.
I suppose that if I wanted this phase to end now, then I would feel happy about the dismantling of the crib.  But I'm not smiling-- rather, I shed a few tears.

Some of you know, but many do not know that I've had a couple of miscarriages since December.  The most recent was at the end of June when I went in for a ten week initial appointment to have an ultrasound, thinking I was 10 weeks along and there was no baby.  Things had begun, but never progressed and I just hadn't miscarried yet.  I had hardly been sick at all, and I knew that wasn't normal for me.  I wasn't surprised at all that things had not developed properly but I was sad.  I had a D and C on Friday and left for our Spokane trip early Monday morning.  Our trip was really, really enjoyable, but I wasn't able to process and deal with the loss.
I admit that I've been quite down in spirits since returning home.  I don't think anything is really wrong that God, time, family, and friendships won't put right again, but I'm hoping that it might be kind of cathartic to share my experience on the blog.  Keeping it to myself isn't feeling so good.

I have six beautiful children here on earth.  We are bursting at the seams in our house and car and we are certainly not rolling in the dough.  I can understand that many would think us crazy for wanting more children, but we do.  Our children-- our families are some of the very select few things we do here on earth that matter enough to carry on in the eternities.  There is nothing worth working harder for.  We will gladly sacrifice a few comforts to have as many as God sees fit to bless us with.

If there are not to be any more Fox babies for us, that is okay.  I trust Heavenly Father.  He knows we are ready and willing to care for more of his children.  But if Georgie is the end of the line we will gratefully and happily move onto the next phase of no-baby family life.  I hear it can be pretty enjoyable as well!  But for right now I'm a little saddened at the prospect.  I hope and pray we may have reason to put the crib back together again (before grandchildren).

Like I said earlier, not very many people knew I was even pregnant.  I didn't want to tell until I'd had my first ultrasound.  Those very few who knew were so kind to me-- not only did they respect my privacy but they quietly and sensitively brought me food and treats and flowers.  And I am so grateful for the support and friendship.