Jill and Logan's Reception

Jill chose deep red with white, and touches of silver as her colors for their reception. It was held in the evening of September 25, 2009 at The Bungalow. The Bungalow is a private and authentic Arts and Crafts Style home built in the 1920's. There is a secluded patio, gazebo, pond and grounds outside, along with the "bungalow" reception hall which is where we served the food. We hired The Bungalow to cater the food except for the amazing chocolate dipped strawberries that were made by my girlfriends Marie, Lisa and Kathy. My friend, Debbie provided all the flowers. And another dear friend, Sharon, made the bows you see adorning all the pathways. So, as you can see... (get into Beatles mode:) I got by with alot of help from my friends.

The rest of the decorating was very easy. We set up a candy table with little white and silver gift bags as a favor for guests. It was a lovely evening. Jill was very happy with how everything turned out, so of course, that made me happy. Enjoy the pics!

The Amazing Recovery

Heavenly Father created the human body to be able to heal itself. How amazing is that? It is such a miracle, something that I can't possibly understand, but one that I am eternally greatful for.

These pictures were taken just 2 1/2 months apart. Mikey in surgery on July 4, 2009, and Mikey going to the Homecoming Dance on September 19, 2009. I acknowledge the healing power of Priesthood Blessings and the Grace of a loving Heavenly Father for this miracle.

Michael's Miraculous Recovery

Part Two: Michael's Recovery

It takes us 3 and 1/2 agonizing hours to get Mikey off the mountain and to Utah Valley Regional Medical Center.

Day 1, July 4, 2009: Michael in the ER at UVRMC. The best Neurosurgeon and the best facial plastic surgeon just happen to be on call. They are with Mikey within a minute or two after arriving. I was mostly worried about Mikey's ear, but they insisted that a CT scan be performed first. Good thing, because he had a brain hemmorage. (This was the same kind of injury that Niam Leeson's wife died of this past winter. The person is talking and alert, they don't seem to have any signs of a concussion, and then they just die. It's called, "the talking dead" -- a horrible name, if you ask me!) Dr. Reichman said that if he had gotten to Mikey 4 hours later, he would have died. We could see on the CT scan that Michael's brain had been pushed over to one side. It was so scary looking at the scans. They immediatley took him to surgery. The surgery lasted 4 1/2 hours.

Day 2 in the Neurological ICU: Dr. Cook reattached his ear and put all the little pieces back together. It took 257 stitches. The white styrofoam was sewn onto the pieces to help them be sturdier during recovery. At this point, the plastic surgeon said our chances of keeping the ear "alive" were very, very small--and that we shouldn't get our hopes up.

Day 3 in ICU: Dr. Reichman removes the drain from the top of Michael's head, that was continuing to remove fluids from his brain even after surgery. Here you can see some of the 40 staples used to reattach his scalp after removing part of his skull to stop the hemmoraging.

Day 2-5: The physical therapists can't believe how quickly Mikey is recovering. (They said that because he was athletic and young, that that helped immensely. But still were amazed how coordinated he was after having such a severe head trauma.)

Day 6: Finally some real food. His surgeons told us he'd be in the Hospital for 7-10 days. But, he's ready to come home now! Our most heartfelt thanks to all those who prayed for him. Surely, we have been so blessed by his miraculous recovery.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

For the past couple of years, we've taken a 4-wheeling ride up Provo or American Fork Canyon on the 4th of July, with our good friends, the Maglebys. We loaded up the trailer with our 4-wheelers and drove up to Tibble Fork in A.F. canyon and began our ride to Cascade Springs. Our group included Reed, myself, Michael, Dana and Daril Magleby and their 4 kids. As we were loading up, I told Michael to wear his helmet, and he said, "It's OK, Mom." I didn't think again about it. But now, that's all I can think about.

Mikey and Kyle (also 16) rode ahead with me shortly following, the rest of the group was spread out over a couple of minutes. We would stop periodically and catch up with each other, then ride on. During one of these stops, I told Mikey to slow down because it was hard for me to keep up with him. (I am usually the fastest--I know, it's hard to believe, but for some strange reason I turn into crazy-speed-demon-woman when I get on my 4-wheeler.) He said, "OK, mom." But it didn't happen.

Not 10 minutes after I told Michael to slow down, I came upon an accident. There were several 4-wheelers stopped in the middle of the dirt road and people huddling over a man and some stranger standing 15 feet from the accident holding his hands up for me to stop. Although I could only see the blue jeans of a man lying in the road, I knew instinctively, it was Mikey. I jumped off my machine and ran to him. He was crying and obviously in shock.

The left side of his face was bloody while other parts, where his hair should have been, were white. Then I saw his ear, or I should say, what was left of his ear. It was very bloody, but I could see pieces coming out that looked like little squiggly worms. I didn't know if it was brains or ear or scalp or what...I just got down in his face and made him talk to me.

He wanted me to hold him, I didn't want to move him at all, because I didn't know if he had any spinal injuries. But he immediately moved his upper body onto my lap and told me to hold his head. I remember someone telling me that they had already called 911. And so, for the next half hour or more -- I honestly don't know how long-- I tried to calm my screaming, crying, bloody little man down.

Apparently, during this time, although I was not aware of it, First Responder Paramedics were travelling by 4-wheelers from Cascade Springs to our location. Total strangers were helping to retreive Mikey's 4-wheeler that had gone down the side of the Mountain about 150 feet. The point of impact where Mikey hit a cut in the road to where his body landed, was apppoximatley 70 feet. An ambulance and life-flight helicopter were put on standby. Reed and Daril gave Mikey a Priesthood Blessing. When Reed finished the blessing, he noticed another man--who he did not know--participating in the blessing. A woman who was on the trail, happened to be a nurse and came to help us. Other people were blocking traffic up and down the road, so no (more) dust would get onto Mikey's wounds. Phones calls were made to Reed's brother to go and get our truck and trailer from Tibble Fork and bring it around the mountain to Cascade Springs.

20 minutes after the accident, the Paramedics were with us. They put a neck brace on Michael and called for the life-flight helicopter. For some strange reason, this made Mikey very upset. He began screaming that he would not get into a helicopter and he began resisting the Paramedics. He was screaming at me and telling me not to let them do anything to him--he said he was fine and just wanted to stand up and get back on his 4-wheeler. At this point, it took me and 3 paramedics to try and keep him down. He was very agitated and it got to a point where I had to step aside and let them do their job.

Shortly afterwards, an ambulance made it up the bumpy dirt road to where we were. The Paramedics from the ambulance began to put an IV in Mikey's hand -- he went ballistic! Again, he was crying and screaming at me to not let them do this to him. It was so difficult to deal with him being in shock and restraining him so he wouldn't hurt himself. One Paramedic held his head still, one held his legs down, one was trying to put the IV in and I was trying to get him to breathe and not hyperventilate! It wasn't 5 minutes after they got the morphene in him, that he calmed down and started to apologize to all the medics for being so difficult. He was apologizing to everyone and it was so sweet. But he still refused to get into a helicopter, and apparently, even though he is a minor and his parents were right there-- it was his decision. (The paramedic told me that they shouldn't do anything that will cause him more anxiety.) So, the Paramedics decided that because the road was so bumpy, that they would take him to Cascade Springs on a "toboggen". And then when they got to the paved road, they would put him in the ambulance and take him to Utah Valley Regional Medical Center.

The toboggen was a plastic sled on wheels pulled behind a 4-wheeler. They strapped Mikey to a back board and then strapped him tightly into the sled. It looked like those cargo holders people put on the top of their cars, only bigger, and with an opening on half of the top. There is a seat for the paramedic to sit on while they hold the IV bag, and care for the patient.

And so we began our trip off the mountain. First, was Mikey in the toboggen, then me, Reed, and the two older Magleby kids on our 4-wheelers, followed by the ambulance. It was tedious driving. They were going so slow so as to not jostle Mikey. It felt like a nightmare when you are trying to run fast but everything happens in slow motion. I felt like I was trying to run in neck-deep water to save my son, but I couldn't go fast enough to reach him.

As we were driving down the mountain, I realized there was no traffic coming up! They had stopped all traffic to allow us to come down without interferance. At each major intersection, there were Park employees keeping the area clear for us. I was so greatful. We finally arrived at Cascade Springs and they transferred Mikey into the ambulance and drove away. They wouldn't let me ride with him. I was so angry! At this point, I realized that I had to sit here in the parking lot, and wait for Reed's brother to bring our truck and trailer to us. How long was it going to take? Am I just supposed to sit here and do nothing? And why are all these tourists staring at me? Reed's cell phone wasn't getting service. Why can't you get service??? Was Mikey scared? I was just about ready to go up to each and every tourist in that parking lot and ask one of them to take me to Provo, when John (Reed's brother) and his son Trevin came rolling in with their truck and our truck/trailer.

It was immediatley decided that John and Trevin would take me to the hospital in their truck, while Reed and the two Magleby kids would load up the 4-wheelers and take them home and then Reed would meet me at the hospital.

When I arrived at the hospital, they had just rolled Mikey into the ER. I went in and went up to the clerk and said, "I need to get to my son, they just brought him in." To which he replied, "OK, what's his name, I'll see if he's in the computer yet." To which I replied, "I don't care if he's in your computer or not, open those doors, now!" To which he replied, "Yes, Ma'am." (A word to the wise -- Don't mess with a Mamma bear and her cub!)

As soon as I arrive in his ER room, a "Crisis Advocate" Social Worker starts running interferance, trying to talk to me about what they are going to do for my son. I tolerated him about as well as I did the clerk in the waiting room.

The ER Doctors and nurses got more IV's in him and ordered a CT scan. They rolled him into get his scan and of course, I couldn't go in there. By this time, luckily, Reed arrived.

They wheeled Mikey back into his ER room and we met Dr. Reichman the neurosurgeon. He called Reed and I out into the hall to look at the CT scan. Here were pictures of my boy's brain and skull and it was obvious that there were dark places that shouldn't be there on his brain. Dr. Reichman began talking about the actor, Niam Leeson and his wife who died from the same injury that Mikey has. (Is this supposed to be helpful?? Because, let me tell you, it's not!) Apparently, when one suffers a head trauma, they can still be talking and acting like everythings OK, except they just have a headache. But there is blood hemmoraging into the brain and you don't know it until you stop talking because you're dead. It's called, "The talking dead." And this is what my little boy, who's 6 foot 2 and not really little, has. He also has a bruise on his brain, and see this? This is where the center of his brain should be but it's been pushed over to this side. Dr. Reichman then informs us that they need to do surgery immediatley, and how lucky we are that we caught this in time, and if we had waited 4 more hours, Mikey would be dead.

Dr. Cook, the plastic surgeon then comes into the room, and looks at Mikey's ear. "I don't know if we can save it, but I'll try." he says so nochalantly, like this is something that I hear everyday and can digest and process like someone asking me, "do you want fries with that?" And then he begins talking about how good they can make prosethtic ears...and my mind goes numb and I just want to hold my baby's hand and tell him everything is going to be OK.

Amber and Jill and my son-in-law Logan, are brought in to see Mikey. Jill immediately began crying as she looked at her little brother for the first time. I am comforted by Amber and I just want to dissolve in her arms and make this all go away. She comments about all the blood on my arm and shirt. I hadn't noticed.

We announce that we want to give Mikey another blessing before they take him to surgery. The two lead Doctors, the male nurse, the Social Worker, any number of men can help with the blessing if needed, they inform us. Consecrated oil is brought to Reed like it's as common as a band-aid, and my son is given another blessing by he and Logan.

We are ushered into the surgical waiting room for families. Our Bishop arrives. Dana and Daril Magleby arrive, and a "calling tree" has been started in our Ward for people to pray and fast for Mikey. When I hear the low base booms of fireworks going off from the Stadium of Fire, I finally persuade the Bishop and the Maglebys to go home and enjoy the 4th of July with their families. They don't want to go. But Reed tells them they have to, so they leave. Jill is sitting in the surgical waiting room with us and begins coughing badly. This is when she informs me that she was in the hospital just the day before getting fluids through an IV because she got dehydrated from her acute pnuenmonia! At this point, I decide that I am justified in having a little melt down, and have a good cry.

After 2 1/2 hours of surgery, Dr. Reichman comes out and tells us that he was able to control the bleeding and that it is a miracle, considering the trauma his head received, that Mikey isn't paralized. He also mentions that he felt Divine Intervention while performing the surgery.

Two hours after that, Dr. Cook, the plastic surgeon comes out and tells us he's done. He informs us that it took 257 stitches to put Mikey's ear back together--the most stitches he has ever done on an ear. They used 5 litres of solution, instead of the usual 1 litre, to try and clean the ear out, and still couldn't get it all clean. "It will take a miracle to keep it alive--but try and be hopeful." he tells us.

They wheel Mikey into the neurological ICU and I don't leave his bedside. The story of his miraculous recovery will be posted in a few days.

Living In Lindon

Recently, our little town of Lindon built an aquatics center. They were raising funds by selling engraved cement pavers. So we purchased one and put our names on it.
I didn't think much about it until I actually saw the paver one day when I visited the swimming pool. There it was, a permanent cement paver with our names on it right in front of the main doors. It dawned on me how much this little town has meant to our family since we moved here 21 years ago.
Our town is small; it's only 3 miles wide, but stretches the length of the Valley from the Lake up to the foothills of Mt. Baldy. When we built our home, you could count the number of homes up here on the bench. We could see the lake, we rode our 4-wheelers all around the foothills that are now filled with homes and schools and parks and walking trails.
This is where we raised our children. This is where we served on PTA and community committees, helped lay sod for the park, Chaired the City Parade. We're some of the "old-timers" now. Although we haven't moved an inch, we've been in 4 different Wards over the years, allowing us to know over half the population of this town.
Reed and I have lived in this home almost half our lives. This is home. This is Lindon.

Spring Has Sprung!

It's spring! It's spring! Oh, how I love spring! Technically, I suppose, it's almost summer. But to this Southern girl -- you can't say it's spring until there are blossoms on the trees and all sorts of flowers flowerering. Not just crocuses and hyacinths, all kinds, all colors, lots and lots of flowers. And warm weather. You can't have spring if you're still wearing a coat outside.

Of the four seasons we enjoy here in Utah Valley, I'm most grateful for spring. Spring means an end to the long, cold, yucky winter. I love summer. I love early fall. I dread late fall. And I pretty much hate winter. (I'm probly the only Utahn who has never -- I repeat -- never skied here.)


The snow peas are almost a foot high in the garden, so we planted the rest of the veggies on Saturday; a couple of different kinds of maters, peppers, squash, and cukes.


The lily pond has come back to life after a dormant winter. Darting flashes of gold, red, white and greenish-charcoal. I amazed that these delicate fish can survive freezing temperatures all winter long. I wish I could come out of winter feeling no worse for the wear.

I've put the furniture out in the gazebo. The grass has been mowed. The spinkler system is up an running. And I've put pink geraniums in the planters on the deck. Life is good. Did I mention I like spring?

My History of Mother's Day

Many years ago...
"Will all the mothers, er... I mean, women please stand up to get your flower."
It was my first Mother's Day as a married woman. I sat in a pew at church and watched the little children blow kisses and wave to their mothers as they sang "Mother Dear, I Love You So." We didn't have any children yet, we were newlyweds, but I wondered if I would ever have children sing to me on Mother's Day. It had already been confirmed that I had severe endometriosis and the chance of conceiving was negligible.
I sheepishly stood up and received a scraggly red geranium in a green plastic pot. Mother's Day was my Mom's day, not mine. After church, I called her up and wished her a happy day.

Four years later ...
"Here, you can have one anyway."
We'd done everything in our power to conceive a child: countless tests and procedures, strong fertility drug regimens, several major operations, but nothing had worked. When the 12-year-old kid reluctantly handed me a potted plant, it was all I could do not to burst into tears. I immediately went home, threw the flower in the trash and vowed I'd never go to church on Mother's Day again.

One year after that ...
"Honey, what do you want to do today?"
It was time for church, my husband knew I wouldn't be going. We hadn't even talked about it -- he just knew. We went to a movie to try and get our minds off of what day it was. Medical science had failed us. I felt like I had failed my husband and myself. For a women who has been told she'll never be able to get pregnant, Mother's Day is the worst day of the year.
To hear the little children singing would be like pouring salt into my wounds. I couldn't even call my own Mom. I had barely managed to send her a letter earlier in the week.

One year later ...
"All right, you may go to church on Mother's Day but just for one hour. Then you get right back into bed, OK?"
My doctor's instructions were explicit. I'd been laid up in bed for three months already. I was seven months pregnant with twins and suffering from severe high blood pressure and edema. I couldn't even wear shoes -- so I squeezed some flip flops on my swollen feet. My feet and hands looked like surgical gloves that someone had blown up into balloons, but it didn't matter; I wanted to hear the children's voices. I wanted to stand up and receive my flower as if it were a medal that I somehow now deserved. My husband gave me a beautiful corsage that day -- a tradition he has kept every year since then.

The next year ...
"Will all the women please stand up to receive your flower." This year, that announcement didn't stab me in the heart. I didn't even think about it. I just stood up holding one of my babies. My husband seated at my side, holding the other baby. And then, as the flower was handed to me, a flood of emotion swept over me. I was no longer among the ranks of women who boycotted Mother's Day. Had I turned my back on all the infertile women I had known? Had I forgotten we joined together in a sisterhood that few could understand? Had I forgotten all the years of heartache and disappointment? No, I would never forget those years of struggling with infertility. But I felt like I had turned my back on those women. I had left them behind. The experience was bittersweet.

Three years later ...
"Will the children please come up on the stand to sing to their mothers?"
Never in the history of LDS women was there a prouder mommy than me. I wanted to bring my camera to church and record my beautiful little girls singing to me, but knew that was against the rules. So I took a picture in my heart that will never fade from my memory. They sang, "Mother Dear, I love You So." They sang to me! They blew kisses and waved just to me! I thought my heart would burst with emotion.
It was an incredible day. My corsage that day had white roses and pink carnations and baby's breath with pink ribbon. I was a Mommy! I had two beautiful angles singing to me! And here I was, sobbing with emotion and wearing a maternity dress -- signalling to everyone that yes, I was pregnant again. I would be the mother of three children. How could any woman be more blessed than I?

Every year since then ...
"Happy Mother's Day, Mommy, we love you!"
The words are more precious to me than jewels. Over the years, I've kept every crayon-colored card, every tissue paper flower. Now that my children are grown, the day is relaxing and wonderful. I still get a corsage and flowers for the dinner table. My husband and children fix me an amazing dinner. I get love letters from my children -- no more crayons, but words of gratitude for always loving them. My heart is full. My soul is grateful for the eternal gift of motherhood.


And finally, this year ...
As I enjoy a relaxing day on Sunday, I will take the time to go up to the cemetery where my sweet little Momma's mortal remains are laid. I will place flowers on her grave, and cry and pray. I will thank my Father in Heaven for the privilege it was and still is to be her daughter. I will thank Him for my own daughters and son and the blessing of eternal of families. And I will also remember my sisters in the world who have not yet received this glorious blessing of motherhood.
Happy Mother's Day.

This is my husband with his brains exploding.