Tag Archives: Natalie

Parental Preference

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Natalie is a daddy’s girl. One night while I was tucking her into bed, she told me, “I like daddy better than you.” “Why?” I asked. She responded matter-of-factly, “Because daddy smells like truck, and I like the smell of truck.”

Alrighty then.

The other day (after reading one of those horrible news stories) I breached the subject of child molesters while she and I were driving in the car together. Basically, it was a 3-year-old-level discussion about appropriateness and safety, etc. When I told her that she could always come talk to me and daddy about anything, she rolled her eyes and looked up at the ceiling.

“Is this embarrassing to talk about?” She shook her head no. “Is it silly?” She sighed and said, “No, but I’m going to talk about it to daddy instead because I like him better than you.”

Oh, right. I reassured her she could talk to either one of us about anything and if she wanted to talk to her daddy about it, that was fine.

This weekend I’m taking a little girlfriend-type getaway. I’m going to meet up with a few bloggy friends and do important stuff like talk and eat food. I’m really looking forward to it. Every time I mention it to Natalie, she gets all pouty and doesn’t want me to go.

This morning, I reminded her I’m leaving soon and she made the most disapproving face she could. I said, “You’ll be fine. You like daddy better anyway, remember?” She softened a little and said, “But you’re the best cooker in the whole world.”

Take that, Matt. You may smell like truck, but I can make a mean chocolate chip cookie.

I’m expecting an angel to ring my doorbell in about 5 minutes

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I’ll spare you most of the details of how miserable the last 24 hours have been. On Monday, Natalie had a 2-hour consultation with a pediatric urologist at the local children’s hospital in an attempt to stop the onslaught of urinary tract infections. While we were there, she peed in a cup and was pronounced clean. By that evening, she was starting to fever. Again. By morning, the fever was rising. I got her in to get some labs done and -surprise, surprise- it looked like there was some bacteria in her urine. There has been much medicine wrangling, shivering, vomiting, and general misery. This morning her temperature was 105.7. Seriously?

I had to take her in to get some shots, which she was not happy about, and in the struggle to get her to put her shoes on (that were all too tight, or too bumpy, or too “weird”) I told her that we can get her some new shoes another time, but please just put them on so we can get to the doctor on time. She got shots in both legs and was not pleased. She demanded that we buy her some new shoes on the way home. Even though I know it’s probably not the wisest idea, I decided to appease her and fulfill my promise and maybe ease some of her misery. (Note to anyone who’s thinking about calling the CDC: UTIs are not contagious even if they have a fever.) We tried on a few shoes, but that wasn’t going well, so I convinced her to go home and come back another day when she felt better. I tucked her into her carseat and covered her with her blanket and headed home.

A few minutes later, Matt called me to tell me that a lady called him from my cell phone saying she found my purse. Oh great. He then told me that she’s bringing it to my house. After a day like I’ve had, her honesty and kindness are a real blessing. I’m so glad that there are people who will respond with charity, even when they have no idea who I am or what I might need.

“I have spoken here of heavenly help, of angels dispatched to bless us in time of need. But when we speak of those who are instruments in the hand of God, we are reminded that not all angels are from the other side of the veil. Some of them we walk with and talk with—here, now, every day. Some of them reside in our own neighborhoods. Some of them gave birth to us, and in my case, one of them consented to marry me. Indeed heaven never seems closer than when we see the love of God manifested in the kindness and devotion of people so good and so pure that angelic is the only word that comes to mind. . . . My beloved brothers and sisters, I testify of angels, both the heavenly and the mortal kind. In doing so I am testifying that God never leaves us alone, never leaves us unaided in the challenges that we face.” — Jeffrey R. Holland, “The Ministry of Angels,” Ensign, Nov 2008, 29–31

I hope when my doorbell rings, I can express how much it means to me.  Any wagers on whether I can do it without crying?  These are the kinds of days you can’t make it through without knowing that God is watching, helping and caring.  And now I know He is, because he sent me an angel.

“I can’t help you if you don’t listen.”

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DSCF0006Natalie is a squirmer, and she likes to exert her independence, so everyday when I try to get her dressed, or change her diaper or put on her pajamas, a small battle ensues.  I ask her to come here, and she scampers across the room.  I tell her to lie down, and she wiggles and flops around and giggles.  I tell her to put her arm in her sleeve, and she thinks it’s funny to roll from side to side.  It’s exasperating.  And it gets old fast.  I find myself saying things like this all the time:

“Natalie, I can not help you if you won’t listen.”

“If you’re not obedient, I can’t get you ready.”

“Do you want me to leave and come back and help you when you’re ready?”

The irony of this whole thing is not lost on me.  It makes me think about how much Heavenly Father probably wants to help us, and how it might be so simple to receive that help if we just listened and obeyed.  I can’t help but wonder how often I’m running around doing “my own thing” instead of paying attention to what he’s asking me to, and therefore, missing out of the help I need to do what it is I should do that day.  Spiritually speaking, I need to listen, come when He calls, lay still and let him dress me.

“There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, uponpredicated— And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated.” which all blessings are   (D&C 130: 20-21)

“I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise.” (D&C 82: 10)

Diagnostics.

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kidneyEarly this morning I took Natalie to the Children’s Hospital for a kindney ultrasound.  She was pretty nervous because of all the invasive testing she had done a couple weeks ago when they were diagnosing her UTI.  I assured her that nothing would go in her nose or throat or poke her fingers.  She settled down and did a great job.  Everything was normal.

It was pretty fascinating watching the ultrasound.  Did you know your kidneys are all the way up under your rib cage toward the back?  I seriously always pictured them much further down in the “loins” region.  Anyway, I thought it was such a cool concept that we can take a close look inside ourselves, and and an expert can tell us if all is well or if there’s something that’s cause for concern.  (btw, This graphic is just pulled from an Orlando Clinic I found on Google Images.)

Anyway, I thought to myself on the way home that personal prayer is kind of like our own spiritual diagnostics.  We can look carefully inside ourselves and take inventory of what’s going well and what’s not and then take it all before our Heavenly Father and let him diagnose us, counsel us, and ultimately heal us.  The concept is actually quite cool, even more miraculous than the fact we can see our own guts on a computer screen.  I thought how much I probably put my spiritual health in jeopardy by failing to do daily diagnostics with the Lord.  It made me want to be better at it … again.  (Do you think I’ll really get it someday?)  When I do remember to say my “formal” personal prayers (not the frequent God conversations I have in my heart throughout the day), it’s very robotic and not nearly as penitent as it should be.  At the end of each day, if I took the time to think about it, there are probably many blips or irregularities on my spiritual ultrasound.  I need to discuss those with my Heavenly Father every day and clean that stuff up.  I bet that would make each morning a whole new birth, in a sense.  A fresh, clean start.  Literally.

And isn’t it interesting that something so scientific and medical could give me insight so spiritual and personal?

Here’s my sweet Natalie hugging the teddy bear they gave her after her little procedure.  If I can get my spirit half as bright as hers, I’ll be in good shape, I tell ya.

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Post script: I have to say I was genuinely surprised by the “controversy” that popped up in yesterday’s comment thread.  Let’s not argue about if one way of fighting pornography is better than another way; we’re all on the SAME TEAM for heaven’s sake.  The purpose of the post was simply to say:  I have a new project I feel inspired to do.  Would anyone like to help me out? Thank you to all of you who make efforts inside and outside of your homes to protect your children from what President Hinckley accurately called a “pernicious evil.”  To those of you who offered up some help,  I will contact you soon with some direction.  (And thank you so much.)   I’d be happy to add on any other team members along the way.  I firmly believe that if we can all do some part, in our own best way, to fight pornography or any form of inappropriate media, we will make a difference.

Lessons learned at Urgent Care

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Urgent-Care-Nurses-StationMom guts just know stuff.  Natalie suddenly cried out during church on Sunday that her hand hurt.  She wouldn’t stop crying about it, so Matt had to take her out into the hall.  Strangely, she was still fussy and even cried about going into nursery, so I told them to come find me if she didn’t seem to settle down.  I was meeting in another room about 40 minutes later when I heard Natalie crying in the hallway.  I stepped out and the Bishop told me that Matt was looking for me and Natalie was not well.  We played that ridiculous circle the halls and not find each other game for a little while and finally met up in the corner of the building.  Matt said, “Natalie has a fever and she needs to go home.”  She didn’t look good and she had tremors going on, and I said, “Something’s not right.”  I took her and started asking for directions to the nearest Urgent Care and headed out immediately.  She was hot and listless, and I felt scared.  I know most people don’t react to fever like I do, but when you’ve spent 3 days in Pediatric Intensive Care with a son who had a series of violent seizures that they concluded were somehow related to a (low) fever, you respond a little differently.

So with my eyes glued carefully to the rear-view mirror, I drove quickly and said prayers in my mind.  I took Natalie out of the car and noticed she was quite hot.  I checked her in and the nurses asked all their regular questions, and I knew that I did not land on their “must be seen quickly” list by their reaction to my description.  I added, “I just know something is not right.”  We waited for about 15 minutes or so before Natalie started crying out again.  She threw up all over her lap and mine.  I sat stunned, not knowing where to move or what to do next.  (As a side note, one minor lesson I learned is that God has a sense of humor.  When I was feeling really nervous about EFY and my new church assignment, I went out and bought a $100 skirt because I liked it, it fit me well, and it gave me confidence.  I never spend that kind of money on an article of clothing, much less something that’s dry-clean only.  I knew it was a frivolous purchase, but I bought it anyway.  I was wearing it on Sunday.  Ha ha, sigh.)  A nice man brought me a garbage can and I threw her tights away after I used the dry half of them to wipe us off a little.  After that, she fell asleep with her steamy little head on my chest.  When she stirred for a while, I was able to get a small hospital gown and change her out of her soiled dress.

I sat holding her for a long time after they checked her vitals.  The rise and fall of her hot little body up against mine made me feel a tight bond to her; her health was just as much a part of me as my own.  My mother’s mind went through all the worse-case scenarios, and I mourned each one and ached for her.  I sometimes have days where I fantasize about spending some nice quiet time away from my children for a while, but in that moment, I had a strong impression that gave me a new awareness.  I realized that I would rather be there in that Urgent Care room, covered in vomit, with her than be anywhere else in the world, including a beautiful white and sunny beachfront without her.  I would not trade the love I feel for her for any of the “freedom” my life might be without her.  God gently reminded me how much I need my children.

When we were able to see a nurse and then the doctor, it was determined her fever was 102.5, but there seemed to be no other symptoms of sickness… minus the obvious puke residue.  She tested negative for strep and didn’t respond to a body exam with any expressions of pain, so they determined it was probably just a mean virus and I should keep her hydrated and try to control the fever.  The next 24 hours were spent alternating Tylenol and Ibuprofen, but the fever wasn’t dropping much below 103.  I called her primary care doctor’s office, and other than lowering her fever, they didn’t seem too concerned and gave me the option of coming in or not.  I questioned myself back and forth the rest of the day, but felt like I wanted more tests dones.  They saw her in the afternoon and tested her blood and urine, and ran an influenza test.  Everything looked okay, so they increased my doses and frequency of the Tylenol and Motrin and sent me on my way again.

Today the doctor called back and said that Natalie has a bad urinary tract infection.  Apparently her urine culture grew over 50,000 units of bacteria overnight?  Maybe you medical types will scoff at that, but it sounded scary to me.  I’m just glad to know what is wrong.  I’m glad I followed my gut and kept pushing for more testing.  I’m glad I didn’t just “wait out the virus” for the next several days because her kidneys could have developed toxins, and the fever would NOT have gone away on its own.  Moms just know sometimes, even when they don’t really know.   Sure love that girl.

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