Welcome Welcome Joshua George

On the morning of Thursday October 20, 2016 we welcomed our little boy Joshua George into our family.  I have always loved the name Joshua George and got Anna to commit to naming our first boy this whenever he came so there wasn’t a question on the name.  I love the name Joshua which in Hebrew means Jehovah is Generous and we are certainly counting our blessings in our life.  George is my dad’s middle name and I have my paternal grandpa’s middle name and always wanted my son to carry his paternal grandpa’s middle name as well.

Joshua ended up coming early but Anna had sensed that he would all along.  This pregnancy was a hard one on Anna making her sicker then she has ever been with the other three but at the same time I feel and I think she would agree that she felt connected to little Joshua and felt that he was guiding her.  In one way that he was guiding her was on the birth.  Anna had a very spiritual moment in which she felt very strongly that she should go natural with this boy, which goes against everything she had ever felt or prepared for.  She contacted a Doula (which is a fancy way of saying midwife) to assist her as she made this last minute change.  I was terrified of her going natural.  Would it complicate things?  Would it negatively affect our relationship as she lashed out in pain, directed at me, only to have me take it personal and withdraw?  Would this be one more birth story I didn’t like telling?  I was so worried that I asked my dad in private to give me a blessing before we went in to help me be grounded and have the spirit with me, but more on that later.

Anna had been having contractions for 24 hours but as we knew was the case, because of our experience with Maggie, this didn’t mean much.  We knew it was going to happen in the next 24 hours so we asked my parents to spend the night in case we needed to go in and in case the birth went quick because I wasn’t going to deliver a baby on the side of the road.not gonna happen.  Around 1 in the morning Anna came and got me and said “it’s time they are 4 minutes apart” and so we trekked into the hospital and I wondered why is it always the middle of the night.  Is this just God’s way of saying yeah get used to it with a baby you won’t sleep again anyways.  Our doula, Rachel, arrived shortly after and they checked Anna in but said there wasn’t much progress and they would wait until the morning to break her water.  We said a prayer and the spirit was so strong and the gratitude we felt for this little man that was about to be in our arms was palpable.  I wondered what he thought of me having seen me from the other side and been able to compare me to the perfection that is Our Heavenly Father.  I wondered if I was cut out for the role of raising him and was as happy as we were that he was coming to our little family.

Throughout the night Anna continued to have contractions but nothing awful or too painful.  We loved our Doula because she is LDS and very spiritual and had told us how she often feels like she is a veil worker escorting these spirits from the spirit world to ours.  Isn’t that the best image that you don’t always place with birth.  She said that although we are so excited to have these little babies in our arms we need to stop and think that they are saying goodbye and possibly getting a blessing of their own on the other side and to let them have that time.  I just love that thought.   In one of the quieter moments of the night our she  said “I feel a male presence in the room which is odd because at times I have felt a presence in other births but it never is a male presence.”  I immediately thought it was Tate our 5th little baby up in heaven who we have had experiences telling us to not forget him saying goodbye to Josh and comforting his mom in this moment.  Before I could express this thought Anna said “It’s Tate and I have felt him close for awhile now”.  WOW isn’t the spirit something.

Gretchen, our doctor and midwife, came in around 7 am and broke Anna’s water but no water came out.  Josh’s head it was determined was so low it was blocking the water.  This is where things got intense.  The contractions kicked in and got harder.  Anna tried to breath but the pain was overwhelming.  She did snap and get short with people but never with me.  Instead she focused on me and having me close and near.  At one point she said, “I can’t do this get me an epidural” she started to apologize and my only thought was how sad that she feels like a failure when she has endured so much.  Our doula said, let’s have you checked just to make sure you have time for an epidural and so Gretchen checked her and said “Sorry Anna it’s time and there is no time for an epidural but you can do this!”

With all of our other babies Anna has pushed 2 times max and the baby has come out.  Well Josh, not so much.  She pushed and she pushed, she shook from pain and exhaustion.  She pushed and pushed and finally we started to see his head only to have the contraction end and him disappear again.  Finally at 8:04 am Joshua joined our family and we realized why it was so painful and so hard.  Joshua was born posterior, the most painful way to deliver and the cord was wrapped around his body 3 times which prevented him from turning.  Had Anna been on an epidural they probably would have taken him via C-section.

She had done it, he was here.  But we still had to have that dang placenta come out and after Molly’s birth this is always a concern.  10 minutes passed and no placenta.  20 minutes and no placenta and Gretchen started pulling which caused tremendous pain for Anna and she begged for mercy but Gretchen said “we can’t have a repeat of Molly’s birth we have to get this placenta out”.  Well, remember how I told you I got a blessing before coming into the hospital.  In that blessing my dad reminded me that I had the priesthood and that I would be able call on that priesthood to help me in moments of distress.  I remembered this and it stuck out and in this moment I knew I needed to call on it.  I had my hands on Anna’s legs as I was helping support them and stop them from shaking.  In that moment of Gretchen’s fear filled words I looked down at my hands and I said in my mind (knowing He would hear and her body would obey) “By the power of the holy Melchizedek Priesthood which I hold I lay my hands on you and command the placenta to release” and closed it in Jesus name.  In that moment, that very moment the placenta gave way and came out in one fluid motion and I knew why I had that blessing and in whom I trusted.  Jehovah is generous my little Joshua and we couldn’t be happier to have this little blessing in our lives.

Love letter to Grandma Nielson

My Grandma was a beautiful woman, not beautiful in the conventional view of the world, although in photos I have seen of her younger days, photos of the grandma I never knew, she was a stunner straight from the Hollywood sound stages.  My grandma was beautiful because of how she made everyone feel when she saw them and because of this no one could deny her beauty. 

Whenever we visited the farm we would open the creaky paint chipped door separating the laundry from the kitchen and turn to look where we would most likely find my grandma, sitting in her favorite chair.  Upon seeing us she would light up as if her world was now complete just by having us visit and she would immediately set to work trying to feed us.  My grandma was a great cook.  A real meat and potatoes kind of a cook.  Never light on the servings or on the gravy.  For us, no visit was complete without a breakfast of endless pancakes.  We would do our best to break new records and eat until we could eat no more and my grandma would keep the stacks coming, until we raised the white flag of defeat.  It is here that we learned the delicious secret (one I am still trying to convince my girls to try) of eating cheddar cheese on your pancakes melting under hot syrup.

When I think back to my time spent at the farm it is hard to separate the farm, in fact the entire town of Leamington, from my grandma.  She permeated every memory I have of a place that shaped who I have become.  She was a pillar in the community and I can see an image of her clearly leading an army of women in organizing lunch for the town at Leamerado days.  The town loved her and she loved them in return.  They had become her family in many ways as they worked to make the desert blossom in a place most people didn’t even know existed. 

Although she shined in the town my grandma was a queen of her domain and a home body through and through.  Whenever she visited us we knew it wouldn’t be for long as she always had some excuse or another to get back to the farm.  We all knew it was that she just wanted to be home and who wouldn’t when you had the farm to go back to. 

My grandma loved animals of every kind so it is no wonder that growing up we would love to visit the farm and got to experience interacting with every sort of animals thru the years.  My grandparents had cattle but on their farm itself they had horses in the pasture, pigs for a time and my grandma kept a large flock of chickens and even had Guinea hens at one point.  I will never forget the moment one of those chickens turned on me and I saw my life flash before my eyes as I was sure that chicken was going to land the blow that would end my young life.  My grandma had a big heart where animals were concerned both for those that were hers and those that were wild.  She would feed the homeless cats in the area and became known for her cats with people dropping them off from time to time.  These were not your standard lap cats that you could pet and play with rather these were feral attack animals that we would avoid and steer clear of at all costs least we get fleas or a claw to the ankle.  I remember there was one cat in particular that would hide under my grandparents old blue Oldsmobile and when you would walk by it would dart out grabbing and biting at your ankle so we would run past the car to get into the house.   Along with her pack of feral cats my grandma had a flock of hummingbirds that she would feed.   Summer nights when the family would gather on the back patio under the giant elm tree we would hear a constant din of wings beating as the hummingbirds would come in from every direction to feast on the feeders my grandma kept stocked with rich sugar water.  Still to this day if any of us see a hummingbird we think of my grandma.  My grandparents also had a yellow lab most of my life.  First there was Broccoli (named so because my cousin was saying Barkley from Sesame Street but my grandparents couldn’t understand him) and then Sadie who was with my grandma to the end.  These dogs were the embodiment of the farm.  They greeted you at your car with a wet nose, a wagging tail and a heart full of unconditional love. 

Grandma’s heart was full of love and the times it was fullest and happiest (or at least that is how she made it seem to us) was when the whole family was over for a visit.  Grandma never stopped.  She would cook, she would fuss she would make sure everyone was okay…that is until the cards came out.  The moment someone pulled out a deck of pinnacle cards or Skip-bo cards or any card game really it had the same effect on my grandma as opening a can of tuna fish around a cat…she stopped what she was doing and took a seat at the table, the rest of the world be damned she was in the game.  My grandma was fiercely competitive at games.  There was no light hearted I will let my grandchildren win this one, she was in it to win it, and if you weren’t focused solely on the game she would correct that in an instant.  It was in these moments that many of us grandchildren reveled in the undivided attention of my grandma.  We knew she was all ours in those moments and we took advantage of the time we had with her.

The grandma I knew was a farmer’s wife, a mother and well, my grandma although flashes of her previous life (before me) would shine thru at times.  My grandma had been an English teacher and loved books and the art of the written word.  She would write letters to her family and as missionaries serving around the world we looked forward to grandma’s letters from the farm that were never shorter than 5 pages in her beautiful script.  My grandma also wrote poetry as a way of expressing her love, her humor and her life.  When our beloved dog Liza died my grandma, whose heart was big enough to love our dog as much as we did, wrote a poem about her that was able to heal the holes now missing in all of our hearts.  She also wrote and had published a poem about zucchini and how she would sneak around the neighborhood to drop it off on unsuspecting neighbors doorsteps, all in secret so they couldn’t refuse the offer of an overabundant crop.  I realize that I inherited the love of language and the power of words from my dear grandma as she so willingly gave us this gift. 

My grandma gave me more than a love for words.  She gave me a foundation from which to build.  She showed me a quiet strength that remained hidden for years.  She showed me a devotion to a Heavenly Father and a dedication to her family that was unfailing.  She showed me unconditional love and support and how to make the desert bloom in your life both physically and spiritually.  My grandma made me know, I was enough.  So was my grandma beautiful?  She was the most beautiful woman I know.