Happy St. Patty's Day

The Luck of the Irish was with us this year as we celebrated a wonderful St. Patrick's Day- or as the girls renamed it: "Green Day". Works for me. Everyone laid out their clothes the night before. Matt was especially thrilled since his favorite color is green and wears a green shirt 99% of the time. It's like the best day of the year for him. I found a new 'Lucky Shirt' (he had a different version last year) and knew it would be perfect.Even the girls insisted on putting on their green attire at the early hour of 7 AM and before they were properly bathed. I shouldn't have been surprised. I mean who wants to be found with out green and get pinched?! I happily did sneak in a few soft pinches while they took their much needed bath later on, and they giggled and splashed me. I guess I did deserve it.... This is what they finally settled on to wear.Thank heavens for that bit of apple leaf, or Brynn would have been in trouble!

The real party started that evening when we headed over to the Millar's for an Irish Feast. Okay, so Ashlee told me Drew quickly nixed her meal idea of Cabbage and Corn Beef. Instead we had one fantastic BBQ and the weather could not have been lovelier (70 degrees that afternoon). The kids and I whipped up a few batches of green shamrock sugar cookies and frosting for the party. Ashlee did the rest. The Rosenhans were there as well.Ashlee also had Leprechaun Scavenger Hunt hidden around the house and yard for the kids. They boys were thrilled and actually let some of the little ones find the feet.Brynn shows off her clue (in her third outfit of the day which was completely lacking green).Every clue had a clever rhyme.The boys discovered their treasure stashed inside the mailbox. What sneaky little Leprechauns!Gold ribbon with green soda and green treats. Perfect!

What a holiday! Thanks to Ashlee and Drew for making it so special!

Thirty-two

I have not reached the point, nor ever plan to, that I dread my birthday. In fact, I really enjoy getting older. It just means you have gratefully lived another year, gained some needed wisdom and hopefully become a bit kinder and more patience along the way.

The best part is that you have added another chapter of 365 days of memories into your Book of Life. And let's be honest, aren't the best novels or biographies those that have compelling, gripping, humorous, heartbreaking, tender, joyful and uplifting stories to fill their pages? I think so. February 20, 2009. I find my self thirty-two years young. If you asked my young women I teach every Sunday where they would be at 32, I bet many think they would be half-way in the grave. And yet I know I have so very much life left to life. And many of the best parts are still sure to come. I am planning on it.
This day also marked another birthday on bed rest. But on both occasions (now and when I was pregnant with the girls) I have been surrounded by family to help me celebrate my big day. And that is certainly the way to have it. But just for the record, in future years, I do plan on spending my birthday surrounded by family in Disneyland. Every. Single. Year. While this birthday was supposed to be spent home alone with my kids, my pregnancy problems quickly changed that. My mom was in town and ready to celebrate and Rich flew in from Washington D.C. that very morning for a quick weekend visit. My mom let the girls select a beautiful white and pink cake for us to devour and the girls kept singing Happy Birthday to Mom and Kaitlyn and Brynn all day long. Rich let my mom and I sneak away for a few hours so we could see the new Shopaholic flick. A real treat indeed. Then later that night we all hit Chili's for a birthday feast. Rich surprised me with singing cards that delighted the girls (one was of Cinderella stating that he wished we could be in Disneyland instead of Lexington and I couldn't have agreed more) and my mom and dad gave us a new, much needed vacuum. I certainly felt showered with love as the phone calls, emails, comments, cards and gifts came flooding in. I am one very, very lucky girl. Thanks to all for making it so special!

Baby Jackson

Last week I had yet another ultrasound to monitor the blood clot and baby. As they scanned my belly the tech asked if I would like to know the baby's gender. I said yes before she could finish the question. I was a bit surprised when they told me if our baby was a boy or girl, but thrilled and excited since this news made the entire pregnancy more 'real'. After a month of bed rest and exessive worry, I was ready for some happier information.

As soon as the boys walked in the door from school they rushed to me, asking me if I knew if they were having another sister or brother. After they each shared their predictions, I shared my new found knowledge with them. Huge grins filled their faces.

Within seconds after the much anticipated answer escaped my lips, the telephone rang. It was my little brother Jeff, returning my eariler call.

Matt loves and adores Jeff and I thought it would only be appropriate for him to share the joyful news with his uncle.

"Jeff, Jeff!" Matt breathlessly exclaimed. "You know that baby in my mom's belly? The one that may or may not survive. It's a BOY!"

Seriously, how in the world can you top an introduction like that?!

That could take some serious thinking....

Of course after the intial shock of discovering I am carrying a little bundle of blue inside (I would have bet money it was a girl), my mind immediately thought, we have to start thinking of names. And while the monikor Harry truly isn't on the list, I could only think the right name for that day was his- Harry: The Boy Who Lived.

It just seemed fitting after so much doubt early on, followed by tears and prayers and worry, that things really do seem to be looking up. I am finally starting to feel like a normal pregant lady (if you can call being pregnant feeling 'normal'). The aches and pains are slowly diminishing and every day that passes makes me that much further from the intial drama of the blood, the ER and uncompassionate doctors/staff. Yes, I feel like things finally are going to work out.

The blood clot is still there and still very large, but it is getting older, becoming more stable and hopefully we will see my body beginning to absorb it. I have had regular ultrasounds and will have another one next Wednesday, followed by another one two weeks after that. They can only monitor the clot's progress, but it seems to be improving.

And while I promise there won't be a Harry Jackson name blessing in our future, I am so grateful for this new little spirit inside, staying strong and ever growing.

And that he does indeed LIVE.....

Bring on the MADNESS!!!

There is a magic in the air that is almost palpable. Across this country you can hear the thump, thump of a ball bouncing, the sound of squeaky shoes on a gym floor. You can see the fluorescent glow flicker as the lights high above slowly turn on and illuminate the shiny wooden floor beneath. You can smell the delicious aroma of popcorn and hot dogs as it drifts toward eager fans. Men and women and children across the country proudly sport their favorite team names emblazoned across their chests. Posters are made, camera are focused, dreams hang in the balance and everyone holds their breath until the first whistle sounds.

In my home, the sweet intro song from CBS floats from the speakers and Greg Gumble and Jim Nantz's voice are soft on the ears. The brackets are filled out and on display on the refrigerator door. The DVR is set to record and text messages are being sent to family members far and wide.

It's that time of again. One my very favorite days of the year. When there is one thing and one thing only on your mind.

COLLEGE HOOPS BABY!

The big dance has arrived and boy am I ready to sit back and watch some serious basketball. I guess it helps since that is what I mainly do now- sit. But that is fine by me. I try to soak it all in and fret over every game since my picks are riding on every play.

Even if our once beloved Cardinal and our local insane UK team had to sit this year out and my alma mater BYU has already fallen to Texas A &M, it doesn't matter. The magic is not diminished.

It's like when you are in Disneyland and you realize they closed the Matterhorn for maintenance that day. While it would have been nice to go on that ride, you are still in Disneyland and that is far better than one single attraction.

It's the same thing with the Road to the Final Four. No matter which 64 teams fill those lines, you are ready for the Dance. And no matter which partners match up, it captivates you and makes you root and holler, squeal and sigh. That's the magic of tourney. It just is great no matter how it ends.

What could be better?

Not much if you ask me.

HAPPY MARCH MADNESS!!

The Tipping Point

Every so often you realize life hangs in a delicate balance. A once stable situation can easily become chaotic and ruined over mere tilt a fraction in one direction. Just today I noticed Kaitlyn's cup of root beer leaning in such a way, I was shocked it hadn't just crashed to the floor the second she placed it there. But it didn't because of it's strategic position. It had just the right angle that it resisted the urge of gravity and remained where she had left it. A small miracle if you will. How did it not fall? Balance. It is a crucial part. And it had balance from one thing- a stable, unmoving computer holding it up, keeping it steady. And a little luck helped too.

In my life I can go on with my daily routine and errands and chores and then with one small turn of events everything can go amiss and suddenly your once planned day or week or month is suddenly on a new and completely different course requiring immediate action and major adjustments. Routine life is now not in your future and you have to quickly set new plans in motion and go with the flow. Otherwise you will sink. End of story.

And when real life suddenly goes a bit haywire you know more than ever you need some things to balance you out- to help you do the daily things that are now impossible to complete. You need help and friends and family and while I would not use the word luck, I would say you do need lots of blessings and even a miracle now and then. You do.

And boy have I been blessed. Like the windows of heaven were opened and I was the recipient of boundless blessings. For instance- love and prayers and support and phone calls and emails and it has given me the one important thing I have needed through this rough patch of life: HOPE. You have to have hope to get you through the times when you thing you really might just tip over and become a huge mess. A really big mess. And I know since during the darkest moments since all this started, when that tiny bit of hope seemed to be slipping through my fingers, there was always someone one cheering me on and telling me would be OK, that we would get through. And I knew they were telling me the truth. What a difference that makes. It fact it makes ALL the DIFFERENCE. It pulls you through.

I don't even know how to start my tale and there is still no final ending making it even harder to explain.

Not twenty four hours after Rich left for D.C. and just twelve hours after I wrote the post about his departure the "Tipping Point" occurred. Tuesday morning, February 10, just before I was to head over the to school for lunch with the boys I started to bleed. And that is never good when you are pregnant. Yes, I am expecting baby #6 at the end of August. (So much for a clever announcement on April Fool's Day I had planned....) Blood is never a good thing when there is a baby in your belly. Besides our parents, no one knew I was pregnant. I had yet to see an OB-Gyn since they could only see me five weeks after I called (and the office has an EVIL receptionist by the way). Strike One for Dr. Z.

I called my dad, who is an OB/Gyn. He said I needed an ultrasound. I had one a few weeks earlier to confirm I was only having one baby (which I am- to my relief), but I needed another one that day. I phoned Rich in D.C. and he called the hospital and the tech agreed to take a quick peek that night. With all five kids in tow we headed to the Radiology department at 6 PM. While the boys (clueless to why we were there) sat in the empty waiting room and the girls strapped in their stroller in the room with me, the tech did a quick scan. The baby looked great, but there was a massive dark mass below and around the baby's amniotic sac. The dark mass was blood. She got a second tech, who then got the radiology resident (who is a year behind Rich), who then got the OB resident and they together told me I had a subchorionic hemorrhage. Not knowing quite what this meant I memorized their diagnosis so I could repeat it to my dad and Rich. They also told me to call my doctor in the morning and get a rhogam shot within 48 hours because I have rh negative blood. We packed up and left and I phoned my dad to see what he thought.

A subchorionic hemorrhage is when is a gathering of blood between the chorion and the uterus. A small part of the placenta lifted and that space filled with blood. One some occasions a blood clot will form (hematoma). The incidence of subchorionic hemorrhage is 1.3% of all pregnancies The presence of sonographically detected subchorionic hemorrhage increases the risk of miscarriage, stillbirth, placenta abruption, and preterm labor. Common manifestations of subchorionic hematoma are idiopathic premature labor, painless vaginal bleeding, abdominal pain, and threatened abortion in the first or second trimesters. (Copied from emedicine.com- easier than trying to explain it in my own words....)

As soon as we got to the sky bridge and my cell phone regained reception I called my dad who encouraged me and told me I should be fine, but I needed to stay off my feet and not lift the girls. I was immediately comforted and hopeful. I called Rich and prayed all would work out.

I swore the boys to secrecy that night and told him the real reason we were went to the hospital. I really didn't want to be the talk of the of classroom the next morning in a speech that would have used the words- baby, hospital, blood-during morning announcements. I was a school teacher once and primary teacher too. I know kids. They were surprised and excited, but scared. They knew I was having problems, but they were going to be my #1 helpers, or so I hoped.

Josh threw up that night and stayed home from school. Not good.

The next morning I called my local, but yet to be seen, Dr. Z. I was hoping to just get a rhogam shot in his office making it easy to take the girls along with me while Josh pushed the stroller. The office was not opened when I called at 8 AM and they took my number and had the on call doctor call me back. She was friendly and told me to call the office back and set up a time to come into the office and get the shot. I called the office and evil receptionist (no joke here) answered and told me that I would have to go to the E.R. I told her I had already spent two hours at the hospital the night before and the on call doc told me they could help me in the office. She took my number and said she's talk to Dr. Z. Two hours later I was still waiting.

In the mean time I was still bleeding (not spotting, bleeding) and the school called informing Trey was now sick (totally faking in my opinion) and I ran to the school with the girls and Josh tagging along and picked him up. Still no phone call from Dr. Z. At this point I am in tears. I have talked to my dad and yet my horrible doctor and evil receptionist have yet to call back. Strike Two for Dr. Z.

Rich finally took a break from his lecture at 10 AM, turned his phone on and called me back. He called Dr. Z and of course the Dr. talked to him personally. He told me he was 'swamped' that morning with patients (can you see where this is headed- towards HATE) so it would be better if I went to the OB triage at the hospital.

I called Ashlee to tell her I had sick kids and could not come over to her play date and within seconds I am sobbing and telling her my sad tale and how I need to go back to the hospital, etc, etc and she was there in five minutes to rescue me so I could go to the hospital alone- a true blessing later to be discovered. Tiffany was close behind and I was headed downtown at 10:30 AM.

After parking in the garage across the street and the mile long walk to find the the OB department on the third floor I made it to triage. After a short wait and a few conversations between the lady behind the counter and a doctor in a back room, I was informed that since I had not seen Dr. Z for this pregnancy I would have to go to the Emergency Room. Yes, I was dismissed and directed to the hell hole down the in the bowels of the hospital. I truly would equate the E.R. to being in prison. It's that bad. Strike three for Dr. Z.

Six hours later. Let me say that again SIX HOURS later I finally was discharged. And I knew nothing more after my stay even though I had my blood and urine tested and I had a vaginal check by the ER doctor. But I did get my precious and needed rhogam shot. That was the only good bit.

I also was told by the ER attending that I was supposed to see the nurse at my doctor's office in the morning and that they bumped up my appoint with Dr. Z by two weeks. I thought I might have to give him one more chance. When I finally got home and rescued Ashlee and Tiffany from my brood at 4 PM, I called the doctor to see when this new appointment was and discovered their "swamped" office was closed for the day. Closed before I got home from the E.R. Dr. Z- You're Out! The next morning at 8 AM I promptly called my insurance to find a new doctor.

Even in the mists of chaos, help was on the way. My parents called and said my mom booked a flight to Lexington and would come to our aid on Saturday. Just 48 hours to be alone. We would make it. I stayed down on the couch. The house was a wreck. Laundry piled up. And a friend took the boys to their home to play after school. Ashlee brought dinner (and cleaned my disastrous kitchen) and friends called and I called family and my mom arrived in the nick of time.

My mom deserves an entire post to herself. The woman of a million talents fixed floors, made quilts, painted walls, caulked bathrooms, spackled ceilings, shopped and cooked and cleaned until any person of normal ability would have fainted from exhaust. She's a miracle worker.

All was well until the next Tuesday and I started to bleed again and that night awoke and found myself in a pool of blood. Scary. Very scary.

I called my dad the next morning. He said I needed another ultrasound that day. Since I had not seen my new doctor yet (high risk OB), I was again directed to the E.R. exactly one week after my first frustrating visit. Not an exciting idea, but one that would have to be followed through. It also was gloomy and raining and depressing looking outside, just like it had the previous Wednesday.

(Side note: Just to vent a little, anyone in the world that would support Pres. Obama by radically changing our medical system to a socialized system needs to experience my week. This new system would mean all doctors would be employees of the government and doctors would be assigned clinics with patients. They would find that their doctor, much like my Dr. Z, would not give one bit of sympathy or genuine concern, find that they do not call you back-ever, and who would eagerly pass the buck and direct you to a long line in the E.R instead of fixing you themselves. People would NEVER and I mean NEVER be happy with this care. I know. I've lived it myself. It really is that bad.)

Back to the E.R. I went leaving my mom with the girls and hoping I would be home before nightfall. And while I was there for hours and hours, I had a full ultrasound read by one of Rich's attending doctors, Dr. Freed. I did indeed have a "sizable" hemorrhage and blood clot and he said the outcome of it all is out of the hands of doctors and man (meaning it's up to God). I was worried about the clot, but again still hopeful.

I called my dad told me to keep staying down and that he still felt good about it all.

Then I went to my first real appoint with the high risk group on Friday, along with my mom and the girls in the stroller. How nice it was to finally have some moral support! I had an ultrasound with Dr. Hanson, an attending perinatologist that Rich often works with and really likes. She was wonderful and went over every bit of the scan. The baby looks great- 14 weeks, a 4 chamber hearts, fluid in the stomach, a perfect brain, 2 little crossed legs, 2 arms, baby sucking its thumb, but the blood clot looked scary. The blood from the sides had moved downward and it looked huge. She called it moderate to large, but then later said it was large. Again- words that induce panic and tears. She said clots can weaken linings (amniotic sac) and lead to preterm labor. Again- panic attack to hear. And while she was so nice and sweet and honest and had me talk to the office manager and schedule my next ultrasound along with my first real OB appointment in 2 weeks on the same day (huge favor), I left the office feeling deflated, defeated and straight scared. I could not hold back the tears as we walked to the van.

But then a tender mercy came in the form of my dad. Even with the new, grim news of the clot's current size, he stayed positive and upbeat and told me he really thought it would be OK. I got home and scanned the photos and sent them to him via email. He took a look and passed them along to his ultrasonographer. They both gave me good feedback. The clot is not between the placenta, which is good. And they have seen patients with problems like mine that have resolved themselves by 20 weeks.

Yes, the clot is still huge, I still could miscarry, my body might not absorb it and I'll have to be careful the entire pregnancy (no lifting, grocery shopping, pulling, pushing, excessive standing, etc), but I again had hope. And it made all the difference. I know that no matter how this ends, I'll do my best and we'll get through. It's amazing how a little hope can go a long, long, long way. Hopefully until August.

So to my dear sweet husband, I Love You! He has crossed the country twice in two weeks to spend the weekends with us. In fact, he flew out tonight from Lexington to Cincinnati and then was to go onto Baltimore and his flight to Baltimore got canceled (no 1st officer for his flight and a massive storm system is dumping snow and ice along the east coast). He just rented a car and is driving back to Lexington as I type and will leave on Tuesday morning. What a trooper. Rich, you give me the love and support and help that I need every day of my life. You are my soul mate and I feel privileged to be able to walk through this journey of mortality by your side. We truly can get through anything together.

To my amazing mother, who I aspire to be more like everyday- THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. You saved us. You are my best friend. As you left the car today, Matt said, "I miss her already and it's only been 5 seconds." I couldn't have said it better myself.

To my Dad, world's best doctor (Truly!!!), my ultimate cheerleader and advice guru- you lifted my heart and spirit when I needed it most. You gave me back hope and helped me see the light. Thank you. I love you more than you can know.

To my Mother-in-law who is coming to our aid tomorrow. Thank you for your love, support, prayers and willingness to come and stay and help whenever we ask. Thank you. And to my Father-in-law for giving up his dear wife for two weeks and for his constant love and support as well.

To my sister Kristi- If I would have said 'yes, I need you I now' when you offered while I was sitting in that stinkin' ER, I knew within seconds you would have been on the road, girls strapped in tight, traveling east coming to my rescue. I do not know if I can ever be the friend to you that you are to me. I love you.

To Ashlee and Tiffany- Not five minutes after I called, you were there on my door step ready to pitch in, even with my boys home sick from school and my girls ready to tear the house part. You were real lifesavers in life. I love you both.

To friends far and near (Traci, Marcie, Tiffany, Nancy, Debbie) that have taken my kids, called to check on me and offered service and prayers- thank you, thank you, thank you. You are all real angels ready to give aid.

This mortal journey through life is tough. There are ups and downs. There are happy times and sad times, but through it all I have to be GRATEFUL for the journey. That is what it is. Our test. Our mission. Our time to experience LIFE and that means the good and bad. I am blesssed with amazing family and friends which lift my soul and heal my heart. And through it all, I know that Heavenly Father knows me, loves me and will help me get through whatever lies ahead.

Late Bloomer

Valentine's Day

Please Be Mine!!!

Hugs and Kisses,
The Jackson FamilyThe girls think these Valentine chair backers we send love notes in make perfect backpacks for them.

May you find love and happiness on this special day!

New Year's Eve

Out with the old, ring in the new! Goodbye 2008 and Welcome 2009!
For the first time in YEARS we celebrated New Year's Eve the proper way, in Salem playing Tripoley and loving every second of it. The boys are old enough to understand how to play and while we have tried to play it in years past here alone in Kentucky, it just isn't quite the same.

Growing up New Year's Eve was always one of my favorite holidays. There wasn't a big let down after Christmas wrapped up because not only did we get to enjoy another week without school, but we got to count down the new year playing my favorite game ever!

The Tripoley tradition started even before my birth. My dad and his family played it growing up and he continued it on with us. I certainly am going to do the same with my brood for years and years to come.

In fact Swensons, who often have joined us in our feast and game playing over the years, gave Rich and me a game of our own as a shower gift. We have since purchased an upgrade and the boys love pulling it out on New Year's as much as I do.
Greg and Kate made these fun party hats and brought some sparkling cider to kick off the new year.
We had an ample supply of goodies, treats, snacks and food. As you can see Josh made a wise choice when selecting his chair- right next to the good stuff.We divided up into teams since we had a large group (everyone except Jeff, Sarah and Kurt). Rhett had a Children's Choir performance, so he was gone for a while, but he brought his friends home to say hello and then headed to a party.The girls kept busy running up to the loft then bringing down their toys to play with near the group. They LOVE these old shopping carts Greg and I got as children.The party was going great, we stuffed ourselves with BBQ ribs, potatoes, salad and many other choices. Then Matt ate something (we don't really know what) that didn't quite agree with him. He had an allergic reaction (which has happened before) and soon his lip was swollen. He gagged down 1/2 a Benadryl and then fell asleep. A short while later, I noticed Matt had run to the bathroom and the smell of vomit. I think the intense gag while taking the medicine upset his stomach and he managed to throw up all over the couch, rug, carpet and bathroom leaving a trail behind him. After a long pause of the game (30 minutes) and some major carpet cleaning the party was back on. Just not for Matt or Trey who soon began to complain on stomach pains (but thankfully never got worse than that....)

Greg's winning stack of chips! Josh nearly made it to midnight, but us EST folks had it a bit rougher. He ended up asleep on a pile of towels on the kitchen counter.

Hello 2009! We can't wait to see what you have in store for us....