I'm so glad when daddy comes home..

When we had one baby I would groggily swim to the surface of an exhausted sleep, to hear the soft "shh...shh..pat-pat...shh..shhh..pat-pat" on the edge of the bed beside me. There, my husband sat, shoulders sagging his own exhaustion, contented baby freshly fed, draped heavily over his shoulder, little downy head snuggled into his daddy's neck (which smells heavenly I may add)waiting for that elusive burp. I would sleepily smile, and knew I could relax and go back to sleep. My boy was safe with his daddy.

When we had two babies, I would awaken after a rough night to the sound of happy chatting. Two year old Benjamin sat eating his "o-meal" while Gabe stared wide eyed from the comfort of his beloved swing. Benj would coo, "how you doin' cutie baby? How you doin?" The sweetest big brother Benj had learned his gentle ways from his gentle daddy. "Cutie baby" Gabe would coo back. I would smile and roll over. I could relax and grab some more sleep. My boys were happy with their daddy.

When we had three babies, I sat on the couch. I was shell-shocked. I had three babies aged 3 and under. Our baby girl was two weeks old, I had incurred some injuries during childbirth related to a toddler sized baby hurtling through my pelvis, which made it virtually impossible and horribly painful to walk, and my husband had come home that day to tell me he no longer had a job. We lived in California Bay Area. The cost of living was prohibitive, to put it euphemistically. He cheerfully said, "I have three months of paid vacation to spend with you all, I'm so happy I will be around to help" (later I discovered that he had wept on his way home but in my post-partum, hormonally challenged state, I never saw anything but calm resolve and faith). From my perch on the couch I watched as he vacuumed the living room. His tiny pink clad bundle of daughter was strapped to the Baby bjorn on his chest,his two little boys played around his feet. Something inside of me felt a sense of peace. I could relax. My children had a daddy who would somehow provide.

On the morning our fourth baby arrived, it was beautiful. My husband had held me, prayed with and for me, and given me the blessings I needed to have the strength to bring this perfect baby boy into the world. It was such a beautiful, spiritual birth. Peace and joy and love surrounded us all. A couple of hours later I was talking to my dad on the phone, when I realized that something was going very wrong. I dropped the phone as a cataclysmic pain ripped through my body and I became very light headed. I sensed that time was of the essence, so as I pushed the button to call the nurse I simultaneously gasped to my husband, "you need to give me a blessing now". When the midwife rushed into the room and assessed my situation, her face confirmed that I was in some trouble. I could feel myself fading out of consciousness. I felt disconnected, as though I was hovering above myself, observing the frantic proceedings. It it hard to say this without sounding melodramatic but I did assume that there was a good chance I was going to die. I did not feel panic but I did feel great sadness, my beautiful family..I did not want to leave them yet! My husband laid his hands on my head and gave me a Priesthood Blessing. I have no idea what was said, but I will never forget the feeling of power and strength that came flooding through my body as it was. I can only describe it as a~~~whooosh~~~ I was no longer disconnected, I was very much inside my body, actually relieved to be feeling pain as my midwife apologized over and over for what she was doing, promising me that she would not let me die as I had apparently politely yet fervently requested of her earlier ;) I was calm now, I knew I was going to be Ok. My faithful husband had been there, and done what he needed to do, and I could relax.

I was going to be around to raise my four babies with their sweet daddy at my side.

Later, the midwife, who is not of our faith said to me that in her 20 years of midwifery, she had never been so afraid for a patient. "I don't know what your husband said in that prayer, but whatever it was..I think that it saved you".

My children are so blessed to have the father that they do. His rock solid goodness, kindness, calm and unselfishness have allowed me the luxury of finding great joy in motherhood. I have never, ever felt alone in the journey of raising these little people. From the first weeks of my pregnancy with Benjamin, when morning sickness left me sick as a dog, unable to sit up to eat, he would sit next to me and actually spoon feed me soup, he has been by my side through it all. My children are blessed, I am even more so.

And now an update on my own dad. He is, in his own words "strong" (though not yet his typical "incredibly strong"). Thank you to those of you who have offered your prayers and good wishes. I spoke to him today and his speech was much clearer and easier to understand then it has been. He described things as "waking up again" and he is getting stronger every day. He will move to a rehabilitative clinic in the next day or two if all goes well. I am so grateful for all that he has taught and given me over the years. He is directly responsible for me meeting Aaron, I have no idea where I would be today if I had not followed his counsel. As my boys and my girl and I have been running together the last couple of weeks, I have been fondly remembering my days of running with my dad. I got so much more then fitness out of our runs together. I love the sense of coming full circle, and I look forward to the day when we can all run together. That is going to be exceptionally cool.

Happy Fathers Day, dad!

Here's what it looked like when you were being

serenaded today. Cute, hey?

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