Music Therapy

Music session held by Stephanie.
Malia was dropped off by dad. She did not transition easily. Dad hugged her to say goodbye, and Malia's eyes immediately began watering profusely. The therapist gently took her hand and said they were going to music so she didn't need to worry. She smiled and followed the therapist but still appeared shaken. She immediately got out the schedule and opened it up, and the therapist reminded her that the hello song comes before the schedule. She smiled and nodded and found a chair to sit in. She played through the first verse fine but began to frown and become sad during the second. She started crying a little bit, and the therapist asked her if she wanted to just listen to the rest of the song to which she said yes. The therapist played the remainder of the song, and Malia went to the corner to cry. The therapist asked if she was sad about her dad hugging her outside and waiting too long, and she said yes. She attempted to tell her that her dad simply loved her and just wanted a hug goodbye, but this did not seem to help. The therapist turned her back to her and blew bubbles and played the I spy game with colors. Malia engaged in the I spy game after a few verses and agreed to going outside to pop bubbles with castanets. It took 15 minutes for Malia to calm down to do this. Upon coming back inside for music, the therapist asked what was next on the schedule. Malia took off her boots, and sand poured out of the boots all over the carpet. The therapist said, "uh-oh", and Malia began crying. She was consoled when the therapist offered the solution that it wasn't a big deal since it could be vacuumed up easily. She helped the therapist find the vacuum, plug it in, and turn it out, and return it. After this, Malia still refused to use the schedule. The therapist got out the ocean drum, a preferred instrument and Malia asked for it. The therapist attempted to play with it, but Malia tore it away and said no. The therapist said that the instrument needed to be shared or else she could not play with it. Malia turned away and held onto it, showing that she clearly did not want to give it to the therapist. The therapist took it away and explained that she could have it back if she shared. She became behavioral and cried while kicking the wall. She also tried to knock a few things over. These behaviors were ignored. Objects that she attempted to throw were immediately taken out of her range, and she appeared upset by this. The therapist once again turned her back to Malia and engaged in play with a Mr. Potato head and put things in the wrong places which made Malia laugh. Malia would come over, put the items in the correct place on the potato head, and then return back to her corner. She finally sat down to play with it after about 5 minutes of this and played with the potato head with the therapist.

 
My Precious little Malia,
I have been very sick this last month.  I went to the ER a 4 days before your 8th birthday.  Your world got turned upside down.  Dad stayed home for a week, Lauren took care of you and the house.  Dad took care of Halloween, your birthday, my birthday and tried to keep a routine for you, but it has thrown you over board.  This has been so hard for you and although I am up and doing more now, you are still struggling. 
Lately you seem to take bad words and saying them over and over again.  You can't control it you will cover your mouth to try to keep them from coming.  It is so sad to see you struggle with this.  You've also been sticking out your tongue profusely.  It has become a major problem for all who work with you, and you often will get your color changed at school for doing so. 
I feel so helpless. As a mother I have an inner desire to help you over come your obstacles.  Yet our communication is blocked.  I often feel as though I am talking to a wall when I try to talk with you.  The basic such as where are we going, what do you want to eat.  These are easy topics.  Yet anything to do with school, behavior, tooth fairy, church, relationships.  This is the block!  These things aren't tangible and thus we are at a stand still with our communication.  This tears at my heart, I year to bond with you in this way.  I want nothing more than to know how you are feeling, what are you thinking, how was school?  Yet this is our life, this is what we were given and I can only have the hope that all these things shall give us experience and be for our good.

I love you Malia, your trials are large, you must feel so trapped not being able to express your thoughts, you must feel lonely and misunderstood often.  This breaks my heart, yet I don't know how to help.  I do all I can and hope that in the end it will be enough.
I love you, I adore you, you are a treasure, a true gift and miracle from Heavenly Father.
With all my love
-Mommy

Colic

We left the hospital hand in hand walking on air as the anticipation of bringing Malia home filled our hearts! We drove the few blocks while Malia slept peacefully, I looked up at Cimmaron to see love and contentment in his eyes and “Life was Wonderful.” We parked under the overhang, I pulled myself to my feet as Cimmaron released Malia from her base, we held hands as he carried Malia to meet her new home for the first time. As we entered our apartment Timbrlee and Breckell came running to greet us. Mom had cleaned the house and made everything look beautiful with welcome home signs and balloons. I bent down to hold my two older babies with smiles on everyone’s faces. The girls got to take another peek at Malia. She was asleep and content, we put her in the nursery and enjoyed the homecoming.

Two days passed, the weight of being pregnant was fading, I could stand longer and lay on my stomach! When I rolled in bed the pain wasn’t so sharp, although I am sure the Ibuprofen the doctor prescribed helped relieve some of the pain. Life was Wonderful, for the last time in four months.

I woke up November 5^th, Malia was five days old, nursing well, sleeping decent for a new born, and happy. Looking down at her sleeping peacefully, I slipped out of bed and got dressed looking forward to sometime with Timbrlee and Breckell before Malia woke up. I found Mom and the girls in the kitchen eating breakfast, I sat down at the table to join them.

“This is my last day here sweetie,” Mom stated. “Is there anything you would like me to do for you today before I go?”

“No” I replied “you’ve done so much for me already, it must have been a sacrifice for you to leave Dad and come this far, thank you for all you’ve done.”

“It’s not going to be easy taking care of these three little ones, do you have anyone close by to help you when things get hard?” Mom asked

“I have a dear friend Yara, she is always looking out for me and she only lives about a mile away.”

“Oh I am glad you have someone who you feel you can count on.” Mom said.

After morning breakfast we enjoyed the day talking and taking care of the little girls. Mom was preparing to leave the next morning, so after dinner she started packing and I went into my room to nurse Malia. She had been a little fussy throughout the day, new borns are so unpredictable, and I thought she might want to nurse and go to sleep. I fluffed the pillows on our king bed, sat down putting Malia on the bed while I prepared myself to nurse. Her crying increased so I quickened my pace. By the time I picked her up she was screaming, when I attempted to nurse she only screamed louder. It seemed the more I tried to calm her the more upset she got. I stood up and walked to the window bouncing her lightly, patting her back and shoooooo softly in her ear. She arched her back and wailed, pushing herself away from me; I was surprised at her strength. This went on for several minutes, with no change in Malia’s response. Laying her on a blanket I wrapped it tightly around her, and put a pacifier in her mouth, I picked her up once again, yet she was not happy with either of my solutions. In the other room Mom heard the wailing and came to see if I needed any help. 

“She won’t nurse, and I can’t comfort her.” I responded with pleading eyes. Mom lifted Malia from my arms and rocked, bounced and swayed around the room, all the while holding the pacifier in her mouth. Malia kept crying. I hadn’t fed her in several hours and I knew she must be starving, but the natural response to being hungry for a baby is to suck, yet she wouldn’t even suck on the pacifier. Mom laid her on the bed and we changed her semi wet diaper while Malia kept on crying. We changed her clothes and wrapped her up once again in a blanket. No change. After two hours of trying everything a mother of six and a mother of three could think, there was still no change. 

Cimmaron walked through the door about 8:00 p.m. The crying of Malia put a panic look on his face, now we knew we weren’t crazy. This cry was not a normal unhappy baby cry, she was mad and upset and didn’t plan on feeling happy anytime soon. I walked to Cimmaron holding Malia in my arms with a look of plead in my eye. Maybe Cimmaron has the answer I hoped. At this point I was willing to try almost anything to get her soothed and eating. With Cimmaron at home Trudy put the other two girls to bed. I got him up to date on the events of the evening with hopes of a solution. “I am not sure what to do.” He stated. “She’s got to be hungry!” he stated. “I know she is but she won’t eat!” We decided we needed to try any means of getting her to eat. I sat on our bed and tried for 30 minutes to coax her into nursing. She would arch back, and wail as if I was torturing her. In all reality, I was torturing both of us.

I had nursed Timbrlee for a whole year, which was a wonderful bonding time for both of us. Then when Breckell was three months old we went to Arizona to visit my sister While we were there Breckell got very sick she stopped eating. For over 24 hours she was sick and crying, I was on the phone with my Doctor in Logan more than once within that 24 hour period, he advised me to get her nourishment anyway I could. So when all was said and done, my heart broke as we resorted to formula. By the time she got better I was dried up and we bottle fed her for the remaining nine months. I felt sad, as if I wasn’t good enough for her. The doctors thought maybe she had developed an allergy to my milk, it is rare but it does happen. Either way this experience with Malia was a sore reminder of the past with Breckell and almost more than I could bear. More than anything at this time in my life, I wanted to bond with this Special Spirit and have the opportunity to nurse her. I was determined to make this work. I WOULD NOT GIVE HER

FORULA!

I walked out of the room feeling beaten and hopeless and Malia cried on and on. With loving eyes Cimmaron and Mom looked at me and gave me some advice.

“Maybe we should try a bottle.”

“No” I stated, they knew this was the forbidden word, and I was not going to do this, no way, there had to be another solution.

“Maybe if you just put your milk into a bottle, then we could help get her to take it.” Mom suggested.

Feeling like this might help I okayed the plan. Cimmaron washed a bottle while Trudy sterilized the nipple. I rocked Malia in the overstuffed lazy boy while she screamed on. Looking down at her pain struck face I felt so helpless. Going into a night clinic might be our next option, not that I even knew what was wrong with her. I mean she’s a baby…..she’s crying…..she hasn’t eaten in what seven hours now….this doesn’t carry a strong enough case to put before a doctor, at least not yet; if we could just get some food into her then I know she will feel better. While I rocked my baby and straining to think of any other possible solution, Cimmaron came up behind me holding the prepared bottle with my milk in it.

“Would you like me to feed her?”

“No, I think I will.” I replied.

I took the warm bottle from his hand and placed it in her screaming mouth. I jiggled the bottle from one side of her cheek to the other in hopes of her getting a small taste of the liquid. When she didn’t even acknowledge I was there I stood, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other with the bottle still in her mouth. Nothing, just the same crying we had been listening to for the last three hours. I gave up and handed her to Cimmaron, with his a new efforts he walked around the small living room soothing sounds rolling from his lips. He tried this for eight or nine minutes. Then it was Mom’s turn. She too walked, shoooshing, rocking, and bouncing with not so much as a pause from Malia’s constant crying. We were all spent, what more could we do?

Then came the dreaded unspoken thought. “We should try giving her formula.” I didn’t know who had said it, but I was spent, anything at this point to get my baby to eat. I would try anything to get my the Special Spirit some nourishment, even if I would feel betrayed. In all reality I doubt it would work, I mean we have tried everything we could think of to get her happy, why would some stinky formula be any different, sure go ahead, just another idea to be shot down!

I lifted Malia from Mom’s arms and walked around the room while they prepared another bottle, this time with stinky formula. Before I knew it Cimmaron was at my side again with another warm bottle of milk, this time formula. Without asking my opinion this time he lifted Malia from my arms and rocked her for a minute, not that this calmed her in anyway, but just to give him confidence he had done everything needed to prepare to feed her. He placed the bottle to her mouth and wiggled it back and forth so she could get a taste of the fluid. She cried on until a few drops made their way to her tongue, then it was all over, she took hold and started sucking! I was stunned, I watched but I couldn’t believe it, this must be some fluke thing.

“Here let’s give her the bottle with my milk in it now that she is sucking.” Mom retrieved the bottle and quickly replaced my bottle with the formula bottle Malia didn’t even know what hit her, she continued sucking, but only for a second, her wailing returned as if she hadn’t ever stopped, she was mad and she wasn’t afraid to let us know it. Before I could respond Cimmaron grabbed the formula bottle and wiggled it back and forth in her mouth, again she started to suck!

Shock and relief hung in silence over the four of us. I wouldn’t have believed this if I were to hear the story second hand. Yet here I was witnessing the intellect of a five day old child who could tell the difference in the taste, or texture of the liquid she was drinking, she gulped it down as if she hadn’t eaten in days. She finished it off before reality had sunk in. Since we had only made her a small 2oz, Mom quickly made another bottle which Malia drank contently. I numbly walked to my room, shut the door quietly and curled up in a ball on my bed. Cimmaron rocked Malia to sleep and placed her in the nursery. There would be no more tantrums in Malia’s room on this night. But in my bed there were soft, heaving sobs as I cling to my pillow and let all the pain from the past meet with all the pain of tonight engulf me. Cimmaron came in quietly, laid next to me and wrapping his gentle arms around me and rocked while I heaved out my pain on his shoulder. This night had been one of confusion, frustration, relief and now I was left with the pain of it all. The pit in my stomach was heavy, knowing that I couldn’t bring myself to nurse her ever again, the pain was too great, almost more than I could bear.

I feel asleep crying in Cimmaron’s arms and when I awoke he had already left for morning classes. The horror from last night came flooding back to me. I laid there listening to the giggles of Timbrlee and Breckell eating with Mom in the kitchen. They were singing a funny song as they ate. She was so good with the children, they seemed to gravitate to her. What an angel she had been the night before, how grateful I was she had been here last night. Now she was leaving, headed home to Dad and I would miss her terribly, but I knew I couldn’t ask her to stay, that would have been selfish when she had given so freely of herself. Now it was time for her to be home with Dad. So I pulled on my pajamas and walked into the kitchen with a happy face. When she saw me she got up from the table and came to me with open arms, no words, just love, my smile dropped and tears flowed all over again.

“I just can’t leave you like this” she stated. I had resolved to let her go and not let my selfish needs get in the way of her plans.

“I will be okay,” I promised, not really even sure how I could make it through another horror night like the last. “ I can call Yara if I need anything, she will help me out.” I promised.

She pulled me back looking into my wet eyes and asked “What can I do for you?” “Mom, you’ve already done so much, I couldn’t ask any more of you.”

"I’ll do whatever you want me to do, should I stay a few more days?” the reality of her staying longer was inviting, I almost said yes, but I vowed not to let my needs get in the way of her plans.

"No, things are going to get better.” We embraced, I tucked away my tears, put on a smile and whispered “thank you.”

By the afternoon she had packed up her things in the tan Honda Accord . We waved goodbye to mom then, shuffled the girls inside and away from the cold. I slid the door shut and heaved a long sigh

“okay, it’s all up to me now.” I looked at Malia in her swing she was not happy, she had taken the bottle okay but constantly seemed uncomfortable and fussy.

By her two week check up I was sure something was very wrong. All us girls pilled into the Honda van and I drove 10 minutes to Malia’s pediatrician Dr. Russel. She cried the whole way there. I released her from her base and carried her inside. After a short wait we found ourselves sitting in a waiting room, I unbuckled Malia and tried to calm her down with a pacifier, bouncing, rocking, and shooshing but the doctor entered the room with her in a full wail. A look of concern crossed his face as I rehearsed the events of the past two weeks. He took her temperature, felt her tummy, and looked in her ears, eyes, mouth and nose. All the while asking me questions about her sleeping pattern, feeding times, bowl movements etc. hoping that something would trigger a red light. Then he turned to me with pain in his eyes, my stomach turned and I feared the worst. Bring it on I thought let me know what we need to do to fix her up and get her happy and healthy again. I would do anything to help her feel good, does she have a tumor, maybe one of her organs are to big, what is it? Just tell me so we can fix her! The words I heard exit his mouth were more painful than I had anticipated. “COLIC”…..colic, no, no the dreaded word. The word that means there is no hope for your child to stop crying until they are three months old, one of the sicknesses doctors don’t have answers for.

“It’s an abdominal pain resulting from trapped gas in the digestive tract.” My doctor continued. “Most babies out grow it by the time they are three months. If you will hold her upright, with one arm under her diaper and the other across her abdomen, like this.” He said putting Malia upright “This does seem to lessen the pain. “I’m sorry I wish there was more I could do for you. Please call me if you need anything, here is my home phone, you can call day or night.” With those soothing words and advise he walked out of the room.

In reality colic could be any number of things, gastroesophageal reflux, lactose intolerance, just about anything to do with the digestive track! Since it only lasts three months I am sure there aren’t many labs working hard to find a cure for a three month illness. This is fine for the majority of the people in the world. But when a mother of a new born hears the word COLIC, we see three long months of a crying baby with no hope in between.

Yet Dr.. Russel did give me some sound advice “if you ever feel like you want to hurt her, or your out of control, just set her down, walk away and let her cry while you leave the room to calm down.”

Little did I know this advise would give me a ticket to sanity when I had no ride left. I walked out of the office feeling more hopeless and alone than I had felt in years. My Special Spirit, the one God told me would fill our home with joy..... would now fill our home with crying. I dragged my feet to the van feeling the prison bars enclose me once more.

I cracked my eyes just enough to see Cimmaron roll out of bed, he walked into the bathroom and turned on the water, I wanted to see him if only for a few minutes. All the girls were still sleeping and these precious minutes we had alone felt short, and very far in between. I crawled out of bed, and walked to his side. It had been four weeks since my visit with Dr. Russel, FOUR LONG WEEKS. As I wrapped my arms around his waist I caught his look of concern.

“You don’t look so good” he said. The past four weeks had caught up with me and I no longer looked or felt human. There was no point in getting out of my pajamas, or even looking in the mirror, nobody came to visit or hardly called, not that I blame them, who would if all they had to hear was the constant back ground noise of a child screaming.

I clung to Cimmaron wishing he could stay home for a day and help me. I knew this road had an end, but the road seemed so long already and it wasn’t even half over. He turned to me and said the words I hadn’t dare utter, but he knew somehow that I felt them.

“You must feel a dread getting out of bed every morning knowing you have to listen to Malia cry, and knowing there’s nothing you can do for her.” Just hearing those understanding words racked my body, maybe he did understand a particle of what I was going through.

“Yes, and when I wake up, I wish is it was night again” He held me in his arms and rocked me, “I’m so sorry, I wish I could help more and be here for you.”

The hard reality is, nobody could take this away, this was my lot, this was my time to be tried and tested. The only expectation I had for myself was to stay sane, I knew if I could last three months things would get better...

Taking those extra five minutes with me made Cimmaron rush to get out the door, I sent him with a banana for breakfast and a promise from him that he would call at lunch. We kissed at the front door and he was gone, I starred outside, it seemed like another world, where I couldn’t venture. The Logan bowl was covered in snow. At least two feet deep maybe more. The temperatures low was -12 and on a good day we might reach zero, if the sun came out which it rarely did, in fact we were in a bowl and being in a bowl with over cast only means one thing, inversions. There were signs up on all main roads warning people from being outside because it was hazardous for our health. Thus we stayed inside, to protect our new baby from the poisonous air. . I closed the door softly just in time to hear Malia cry. The weight Cimmaron had lifted from my shoulders in those few short minutes came down harder than ever at the sound of Malia. I walked slowly to her car seat where she now slept every night. She seemed to sleep better sitting up, this way I could also rock her. I lifted her up while she wailed, and placed her on the diaper changer to change her diaper and clothes. Even though she was my third girl and she cried all day, I still found some sanity in having her look cute. So I usually had her dressed in something she could squirm in and scream, but also an outfit she looked cute in doing it.

As I carried her to the kitchen we had to pass Timbrlee and Breckell’s room so with Malia crying her daily cries, naturally they woke up as well. I warmed up Malia’s bottle while Timbrlee and Breckell jumped around me asking for a drink, cereal and fruit. with all three shouting, yelling and crying I had to pick my battles carefully. I had learned Malia takes a lot more time and energy so if I could get Timbrlee and Breckell fed then I could attend to Malia with less havoc. Placing her in the bouncer to cry I set the girls up with breakfast. After their mouths were busy chewing. I picked up Malia to feed her a bottle. She did enjoy eating and this was one of the only cry free moments throughout the day. So with the girls all eating I rocked Malia in the chair dreading the beginning of another long day.

Burping a crying baby takes twice as long as a happy baby, air is going in and out so fast it’s near impossible when they are sucking in air faster than they can burp it out. This in it’s self took half an hour if it was a good day.

I placed her in the swing while she wailed. Dragged my feet to the kitchen I cleared the breakfast dishes and nibbled on some fruit. After wiping down the kitchen I walked to the girl’s room “We want to play in the snow!” Timbrlee insisted.

“It’s so cold out there.” I respond.

“No it’s not!” she shouted.

“Sweetie the air is bad to breath, it can make you sick.”

“No it won’t!”

“I’m sorry but we can’t play outside until the air is clean.”

“No, no” Breckell and Timbrlee joined in unison.

Two and three year olds don’t listen to logic and don’t have a desire to learn any. They wanted to go outside and nothing I could say convinced them other wise. When it came down to it “No” was all I could say. They threw themselves on the floor and cried. I stood in the hallway at one end Malia was wailing and the other Timbrlee and Breckell crying because I’m not fair. I took my Doctors advise, I walked into my bedroom and closed the door, I could still hear all three crying so I went into my small walk in closet with just enough room to kneel, and I closed the door with the sound of them crying still on my ears, so I bawled too. On my knees, hands over my face hunched over rocking myself; the tears came easily now, the pain had been present for so long with overwhelming obstacle, I clung to the darkness hoping to disappear. The ache of having no one who could help, no family who lived close, I started to pray. I plead with the Lord to give me peace, to help me through this time where I knew I couldn’t do this for another moment. The yearning sobs come on stronger and my cries entered the girl’s ears. They found me hunched over in my closet, face in hands and wet with slobber and tears. Even as I looked up at the two small children wide eyed before me I could not stop. They ran to me for comfort for the confusion they felt and we all cried there in the closet together, as I rocked all three of us back and forth.

Children seem to bounce easier and let things go, their cries soon turned into the next fun activity.

“Can we have some crackers mommy?” Timbrlee asked. “I want a puzzle.” Breckell piped up.

“Oh, mommy can Olivia come over?” Timbrlee’s eyes shinning. My heart wrenched within my chest, I needed more time, facing Malia still seemed unbearable. With tears falling over my red soaked face I respond

“I will get a snack and puzzle for you in just a minute okay.”

“Okay mommy” they chirped. As they exited the closet my thoughts turned to Yara whom I had promised my mother I would ask for help. Yara was in Illinois taking care of her sister who gave birth to quintuplets a few days before Malia’s birth.

I had nobody left on this earth who could save me. Reality hit, this time numbness crept through me. There was no way out, this was my life, I had to face it but not completely alone.

“Heavenly Father,” I started “I feel utterly alone, just the thought of walking out of this closet seems impossible. I cannot do this without you, please please….help me.” I begged. Heavy sobs shook my body, no more words came. I held myself and rocked while silently pleading for help. I stayed this way, kneeling, bent over myself crying. But tears do have to dry, and I did have to try again even if I was set up to fail.

Strength crept slowly. I breathed in a long sigh, my mind started to clear “I can do this, with God’s help, I know I can do this.” Giving myself a pep talk. I took a few more deep breaths and walked from my closet. As I reached my bedroom door I could hear Malia once again, nothing had changed, she was still as mad as before. I turned the corner and walked down the small hallway. I found Timbrlee and Breckell trying to give Malia a pacifier and rocking her. We all felt helpless, we all wanted to help her but we didn’t know how.

“Thank you girls for trying to help her be happy,.” I managed to say. Stopping the swing I unbuckled Malia, and lifted her out, as I wrapped her in a blanket I smelt a dirty diaper. I walked into the nursery/office to change her. The dirty diapers brought a small

relief, this was something I could help her with, something I knew I could do right, and I enjoyed even this small task.

It was now close to 10:00 a.m. the time where I would attempt to lay her down for a nap. I placed her in her car seat, turned on a monitor that makes noise, and with one hand I held the pacifier in her mouth as she contorted around in fierce screams; with the other hand I rocked her slowly. This routine lasted until my hands, arms, and legs, fell asleep. After about 45 minutes, I might get lucky and she would fall asleep for ten minutes. Ten short minutes. If it was a bad day which was more common, she would end up madder than when I started.

Two weeks later, our new family loaded into the van attempting the impossible. Driving the short distance to our new church building, we had a boundary change three weeks before Malia was born, we didn’t know anyone and they didn’t know us. Yet we knew we needed to begin life again with a new born, weather she had colic or not. We parked in the snow covered parking lot and climbed out of van, Cimmaron released Malia from her base and carried the crying infant into the church speed walking over the salt covered sidewalk. I unbuckled Timbrlee and Breckell, picking them both up, one in each arm, sliding the door closed with my pinkie finger I treaded through the heaps of snow until we made it to the sidewalk. Setting both girls on their feet I held their hands as we attempted to walk into the building. Breckell broke from my grasp and headed for the snow, I lunged for her hand, and just as I did Timbrlee broke free in the opposite direction toward the parking lot. I lurched for her, but she had made it to the parking lot now. I watched in slow motion as she slid across the ice and landed on her back end. I made it to her side, pulled her up, and brushed the snow from her clothes. Big warm tears trickled down to her chin, but I didn’t have any time for sympathy yet, where was

Breckell? Carefully making my way to the sidewalk, Timbrlee on my hip I scanned the area for Breckell. Catching the glimpse of a small dot running towards the other end of the parking lot, I ran lugging Timbrlee. I was closing in on her as an older woman approached Breckell, she caught hold of her hand and led her towards me. We met at the end of the sidewalk, with a judging glare she stated

“you’d better keep a closer watch on your children.”

“Thank you for your help.” Was all I could muster, I had no fight left, just more pain and inadequacy dripped into my heart, as I silently agreed with her scold. Reaching the doors of the church I peeled off the girl’s coats, their dresses and tights wet now

“What happened?” Cimmaron questioned. “the girls ran away from me, Timbrlee fell on the road, Breckell ran the opposite way, a lady caught her and told me I was an awful mom, which I am, I can’t do anything right.” My tone lifeless.

He stared at me. “I’m sorry,” wrapping his gentle arm around me not knowing what else to say.

“I’m wet mommy!” Timbrlee complained.

“Me too!” Breckell repeated. Malia all the while crying in the back ground.

“why don’t you go into the chapel and I’ll stay out here with Malia.” Cimmaron volunteered. The thought of no crying in my ear was all to inviting.

“Okay, we will meet you here after sacrament meeting.” we planned. We were late now, making our way to some folding chairs in the back of the chapel. I pulled out some coloring books and snacks. The speaker was a young returned missionary whom I had never met since we were new to the church. It didn’t matter what he said, the voice of a human without background screaming was all I needed to find peace. It was music to my ears, and I enjoyed every minute of it. All too soon the fist meeting ended. Cimmaron met me with strung out eyes, “can we trade now?” He pleaded.

Feeling somewhat refreshed I took Malia while Cimmaron escorted the girls to class. Sunday School had started and most people were in class already, I circled the halls aimlessly. Nobody knew me, so I was given some judging looks as if to say “why don’t you do more for your child then just walk the halls with her? Feed her, change her, anything as long as we don’t have to listen to her cry!” They were right, I knew it, and I shouldn’t be here disturbing everyone around me with the cries of my child.

Thus I stayed home from church, outings, shopping, and friends houses because nobody wanted me with my crying baby. There’s a frazzled feeling everyone seems to get when a baby is crying uncontrollably. It’s almost an instinct we want to try every means possible to calm the precious child. Yet when there is nothing left to do, the frazzled feeling turns into a numb, thin, distant void leaving you without emotion.

Timbrlee and Breckell had long gotten use to the fact that their baby sister cries, and for the most part they adapted well to their new situation. How grateful I am they had each other during this hard time, for they could close their bedroom door and go into their own world of make believe blocking out the crying infant. I on the other hand spent most of my day going crazy with the idea that I could do something to help her feel more comfortable. I seemed to go through a routine, of changing her diaper, feeding, burping, rocking her, changing her clothes, bathing her and on and on and on. Engulfed in the idea made me close to mad, for as the weeks wore on and my efforts were in vain, the frustration built up inside. I was helpless, alone and day after day my energy was sapped leaving me drained of all sanity.

Sanity, I needed some sanity. The phone rang, I ran in to answer it ,I didn’t care who it was, I just needed to hear another human beings voice over the age of three, even a telemarketer would be welcomed,.

“His sis,” I heard Sarah say. “Oh Sarah!” I said in a dragged out voice. “I am going insane, Malia cries constantly, I feel so helpless no matter what I do it doesn’t help. I don’t know how long I can hold out, I don’t know what else to do for her.”

We talked about what things I have tried and I admitted I’d had a complete break down. Then she rang music to my ears as she volunteered.

“Let me take Malia for a weekend, even if she screams the whole time I can handle it for a weekend, you’ve been doing it for two months, a weekend won’t kill me.” I broke down in sobs, this was bitter sweet. Yes I wanted silence without a crying baby, but I didn’t know if I could put my new born in even the best of hands. Somehow if I stayed with her, maybe something would change, the motherly instinct clung to some hope of helping her.

“Sarah I can’t do that, I can’t leave her.”

“Stacee, it’s only two days, three at the most, you need it. I will take good care of her I promise.” I had no fight left, she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and there was a part of me which longed for quiet sounds. When all was said and done Sarah talked me into taking Malia and Timbrlee. We met half way in Brigham City at a Maverick gas station where I handed my crying two month old over to my precious sister.

“She will cry all day Sarah, she won’t really nap for you either, but at nights she finally gives in.” I instructed. “Also, she eats about every three hours, but rarely can we get her to burp.” I showed her a few ways Dr. Russel had taught me to hold her. “But after an hour your arm gives out, and please if you get frazzle, just leave her to cry while you take a breather.” My list seemed to stretch on and on

“Stacee, I will take good care of her, I promise, you need this, do some things for you this weekend, promise?”

“Yea,” I paused,” “I’ll try.” After our short reunion I watched Sarah climb into her car with Malia’s crying piercing my ears for the last time in two days. Sarah pulled the door closed……..there was silence! No more crying, I listened as cars drove by, gas station pumps beeping and people talking in the distance. Life seemed to still be moving, yet I felt an alien to it all. I scanned the area, for the first time an unexpected arose me…freedom, I could go anywhere, I could go to the store……the store! A place I hadn’t been in over five months. I could go out to eat! Anywhere I wanted!! The reserved feeling when Sarah and I were discussing Malia had fled from my mind as I skipped to the van to peer on Breckell. My precious, quiet Breckell! I jumped into the driver’s side seat and took off! I was a new woman, and I was going to sap every ounce of freedom I had. Breckell and I shopped, first to the mall. I didn’t have much money, but that didn’t stop me. We ate an ice cream in the food court, I laughed at Breckell as she stuck her whole mouth over the double scoop cone. Ice Cream covered her eyelashes, nose, mouth and cheeks! Laugh…..I hadn’t laughed in months, and it felt so good.

After Cimmaron got home we did the unthinkable, we went to dinner! The three of us sat around a corner cubby at Wingers. We talked lightly, as we watched Breckell explore a restaurant for the first time. She picked up the salt shaker, tasting it with her finger, a sour look crossed her mouth. “Ew” she stated, grabbing the pepper before we could stop her black and grey specks clung to the pink tongue. “Hot, hot “ she said flinging her hands over her mouth. Cimmaron grabbed a glass of water, pressed it to her lips as she drank deeply. Ice water splashed onto her pink shirt, but she didn’t notice.

“All done,” she stated wiping a hand over her mouth. Giving us a confused look she announced “that’s yucky!”

Cimmaron and I looked at each other and laughed, it felt so natural to laugh with him, and yet how long had it been since we’d enjoyed each other, weeks, months, I didn’t know, somehow life seemed a blur. Yet sitting here now, Stacee was coming back to life and laughs were replaced with healing reliving tears. Cimmaron let me cry softly on his shoulder, not understanding why, but knowing these tears were good.

With the waitress asking us twice if we wanted anything else, we knew we had outworn our welcome. but I wasn’t ready to go home “can we go shopping?” I asked Cimmaron. “Sure, where do you need to go?” Need, now that was an oxymoron, I needed to be out, did I need to go shopping No! Did I want to? Defiantly yes! “I am sure we can find something I…need.” I teased! Cimmaron chuckled putting his arm around my wist “okay let’s go.” We both felt free, our trial temporarily lifted from us, nothing was going to stand in our way tonight. We ended up at a local grocery store browsing lightly, mostly talking with each other. After an hour of being pushed in a cart Breckell had had enough, since it was an hour past her bedtime, we figured we had better get home. I stood in the check out line with the few items I NEEDED diapers and formula. Yep that was all I really needed at this point in my life.

After reading to Breckell and kissing her good night Cimmaron turned me around to embrace me. He tenderly placed his lips to my ear and whispered quietly “your back.” No more words had to be spoken, this was all that needed to be said.

We woke up lazily on Sunday morning as silence filled the air. No crying baby, no demands, Breckell crawled into bed with us.

“Did you sleep good sweetie?” daddy asked her.

“Yep!”

“Did you dream anything?” I asked. With her two year old vocabulary which was above average she began on a story about a gooey glob chasing a doggie. How many dreams have I missed from my children’s mouths in the last two months? I was missing out on so much, I wanted to know the details of their lives. I yearned to comfort them in the small things, to talk with them about their thoughts and emotions. All I wanted was to be a good mother to our children. Somehow when Malia cried all day I had no emotional energy to give, I was sapped of emotion leaving me distant from my children and life.

Since church was at 11:00 a.m. we mixed up pancakes and enjoyed the stillness of the morning. Church was easy, Breckell played quietly on the seat next to me while Cimmaron and I sat through the whole meeting! We attended Sunday School hand in hand while Breckell played in Nursery. Class was enriching and edifying, although nobody talked with me or even knew who I was, God does, and his spirit filled every molecule of my being. I was renewed, there really was life outside of our three bedroom apartment.

After a Sunday afternoon nap the phone rang.

“Are you ready to meet?” we heard Sarah ask on the other end. I was surprised, we had planned to meet later that evening or even Monday. Yet, she had already done so much for me how could I ask her for a few more hours?

“Sure,” I responded. “Let’s meet in one hour at Maverick okay.”

“Okay” I responded. I had called a few times to check up on how Malia was doing yesterday, but we hadn’t talked to Sarah today.

“How was she at church for you?” I questioned, I had warned her not to attend church, but she wanted to try despite my advise.

“Yea, that was real fun! I ended up pacing the hallway. She was screaming so loud I didn’t dare pass an open door, because they would all stop class and stare at me. One funny thing did happen though, a little old lady came up to me and asked “can I hold her, I think I can get her to calm down,” I handed her off “I’ve had eight children, I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” She totally was bragging as if she had the magic touch. She bounced her, rocked her, talked to her, but Malia just kept screaming. Finally the old lady gave her back confessing she didn’t know what was wrong with her. “but she sure has got some lungs.”

“I just chuckled and told her Malia cries all the time, not even her mom can get her to calm down.”

I laughed at Sarah’s story. “Honestly Stacee I just thought you were low on nerves and Malia needed a break just as much as you did, I thought I could help her to be happy, but weather I’m holding her or not, no matter what I do, she just keeps crying, sometimes a deathly wail, sometimes just a cry, but always crying. My nerves are shot! I don’t think I could really comprehend what you’ve gone through until now, it must be even harder as her mother, you must want to help her, and feel so helpless.”

Sarah’s small understanding was relief to my heart. I was not crazy, I wasn’t doing anything wrong. It wasn’t only me Malia was screaming for. I gathered my strength together and we drove to Brigham City to pick up Malia and Timbrlee.

Malia's Pregnancy

Dear Malia

I started a book about your early life about 4 years ago.  I haven't touched it since.  Since I have stated this blog I thought I would add segments from your book.  Here is some events that took place before your birth! I hope you enjoy it!

Nights when Cimmaron was doing homework or working late, I found my highlights in the scriptures. How I love to study and learn from the scriptures! I would study and pray in the nightly stillness. During these cherished moments of study and prayer my mind was often opened to knowledge and inspiration. One December night will forever remain etched in my memory. The girls were all tucked into bed. My thoughts were on the Christmas Season as I settled into my favorite chair. The Savior’s birth became the focus of my studies. Suddenly, I felt awed by the love God must have had for Mary for being willing to put her life on the line as well as suffer the persecution of carrying a child out of wedlock; yet because of her experience she was not ashamed. How priceless a child is to a mother. While feeling the spirit strong in my heart, a feeling came so strong to me that we needed to have another baby, because there was a Special Spirit waiting to come to earth and this little one needed to come soon. My eyes flooded with tears, the thought of a Special Spirit coming to our home and us getting the opportunity to raise this precious child was overwhelmingly powerful! I was overcome with joy! As soon as Cimmaron came home I related, the spiritual experience to him. Of course he had no reservations and whisked me off my feet carrying me to the bedroom.

There was a day in my pregnancy that I was waiting for more than any other. We all know what day that is because anyone who’s been pregnant at least 20 weeks knows it’s incredible to see your child whom you have sacrificed your whole well being for the last 20 weeks making its first TV appearance! The ultrasound day! A movie star in the making!

We all piled into the used Honda Odyssey we bought for our soon-to-be family of five and drove to the doctor’s office! The anticipation was almost more than I could bear. I know we are never supposed to want a boy or a girl and you just take what you get and rejoice, just hoping the baby is healthy, right? I mean, that’s what I hear all the time, “I don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl as long as it’s healthy!” “Healthy” is a figure of speech. What does that mean? “Healthy” as in they are breathing and have five fingers and toes? Or as in they are a calm, happy, sweet baby in body and mind.  So all I wanted was a, happy healthy baby BOY! Right. It only makes sense. We had two beautiful girls, what more could I want for my special baby that God has promise me than to have a BOY to add to our family and fulfill His promise? I had it all figured out. God was sending me a special baby BOY. Don’t get me wrong here, I love my girls and I would love a house full of them. I wouldn’t trade my girls for any boy any day. But it just seems like everybody should get some of each, and I was in line to get my boy.

Also, you have to know that I hadn’t breathed a word of this BOY stuff to Cimmaron, whether it was because we saw so little of each other or I just wanted it to be a surprise that we were finally getting a boy, I am not sure. But now that we were driving to the ultrasound, I sure wasn’t going to tell him now. I was going to let it be a surprise for him and watch his face when the tech says “It looks like a boy”.

Walking into the doctor’s office Sally, Doctor Fowers receptionist greeted me “Hi! Today is the big day!” She glanced behind me as I made my way to the front desk to sign in. 
“Oh, look you brought the whole crew,” noticing my family behind me. “I bet they are excited to see your new little one!” I nodded 
“yea, their excited to have a new baby in our home.” Sally knew me well through all the visits and she seemed kind, and considerate
“Two girls huh, I bet Daddy’s hoping for a boy!” 
“Auctually,” I admitted “We haven’t talked about it,” 
“Oh I see.” Nodding a secret understanding. “Okay your all checked in, just have a seat, I’ll let them know you’re here.”

After a short wait a tech called me back “Stacee Smith” I heard her call as the side office door opened. Butterflies filled my stomach while we moved through the door and made our way to the back room. Onto the table, up with the shirt, on with the warm blue goo. The screen lit up with our movie star. He was perfect and healthy as far as the ultrasound could tell: 10 fingers, 10 toes, 2 arms, and 2 legs. Everything proportioned in just the right way and growing handsomely. Then came the moment “would you like to know the sex of your baby?” the tech asked. Cimmaron and I answer in unison, “Yes!” She moves the stick around to get just the right angle and presents our movie star! But there was a big problem. Our Super Hero was looking a whole lot like the other Movie Stars I had seen up on that TV screen and I didn’t believe it. “It looks like a girl” she announced glancing at our two beautiful girls. “Could you check again?” I asked, sometimes these techs can make a mistake, and I wasn’t going to let that happen to me. She found the spot and froze the screen. “If you look here these are her legs.” She said while moving the mouse. “This in the middle of her legs which indicates for sure, it’s a girl.” “Could you get a different angle?” I pleaded “Just to make sure?” “Yea…okay here’s a little different angle, and it’s for sure a girl.” She had been so patient with me so I shut my mouth and let her finish measuring and typing while I laid in silence.

Walking out the office Sally’ voice rang “so what are you having?” I stared at her blankly and couldn’t form the word “Girl”. I just kept walking as if she were speaking another language; and I almost thought she was, I was so beside myself. I wasn’t sure about anything anymore. Luckily Cimmaron was close and answered in an upbeat tone, “It’s a Girl.” The excitement I heard in his voice was painful to my heart. He seemed happy about this!! The thought was beyond me. How could he be happy? Every step I took after that seemed long and painful, a dark cloud settled over me and as we made our way to the van, I climbed into the driver’s side, put the key in the ignition and stared into oblivion. Cimmaron spoke to me a  “What is wrong?” I slowly turned my head to look at him, as our eyes met I exploded into tears. I cried so long and hard Cimmaron thought about going back in there and getting me some professional help. He had no idea why I was crying or what could possible upset me this much. The kind patient man he is, he let his big girl cry.  I came to some sort of sense just enough to murmur, “It’s a girl.” By that time all logic had gone out the window and Cimmaron was completely dumbfounded. This whole time he really didn’t care weather it was a boy or a girl and he certainly had no idea that I cared. This brought on another wave of emotion and I cried all over again. At this point I’m sure he was wishing he had beaten me to the driver’s side. At least he could have been driving while I was crying and slobbering all over the place.

Before we go any further I do have to say something in my defense. Remember, I am pregnant. On the nest means emotional. So with that in my defense I am proud to say I did end up driving home without killing us or anyone else.

If all this pregnancy stuff wasn’t fun enough for me already, I got one final blow. My back gave out. The pain made it so I could hardly walk up those three flights of stairs to our apartment. So with all the fun of fall in Logan I was scared to climb my stairs to get home, let alone have to carry my little Breckell and sometimes Timbrlee if she refused to walk, which was often the case. Not that I blame her, I would have loved to have someone carry ME up those stairs! So we spent much of our time at home. Grocery shopping became a thing of the past,  Cimmaron went shopping after his busy day. And with daddy shopping we ended up with lots of cereal and fruit, guess that's good because I couldn’t stand long enough to cook anyway!

Somewhere between all these health issues I was still in a cloud of “It’s a Girl.” I literally couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone, except the one person I knew would understand my oldest dear sister Sandy who has been blessed with four beautiful healthy girls. I called and cried to her. She listened and understood, although she hadn’t experienced the depression that was covering me now.

Depression is an interesting thing. I don’t really understand why I was feeling so down in the first place. I tried to lift the chin and put on a happy face, but deep down there was a dark cloud which followed me wherever I went, and no matter how hard I couldn't shake it. This is very real and at some time in all of our lives we may experience it, some more sever than others, but it is real; and while we are under that cloud it usually takes something big to make the clouds part. Well, at this time in my life I knew why I was feeling low, but it didn’t make sense why it would linger so long. I mean I’m having a baby, a Special Spirit, I should get over this and rejoice. I knew this... yet the dark cloud loomed over me in despair. I woke up every morning in my pajamas, and stayed in them all day. I didn’t want company over, and I surly didn’t want to confess that my depression was due to the fact that “It’s a girl.” On top of being depressed, I felt guilty for feeling depressed, I felt like the worst mom in the world, how could I even be worthy to carry this Special Spirit now? Here I was pregnant and supposed to be excited to have this child which God had promised me, yet I wasn’t happy. To say the least, I was a complete wreck. I stayed in my pajamas and mopped around the house.

One bright spot in life was my weekly worship in the temple. Cimmaron and I had to trade off watching the children, so we both had to fare temple attendance alone, but I still attended faithfully every week. It had been eight weeks since our ultrasound and I was starting to show the roundness of pregnancy. Waddling down our apartments three flights of stairs, I pulled myself into the van to attend my weekly worship.

Driving through Logan is like playing hopscotch. Every road connects to the other road in town so you can take a different route every time and still end up at your destination. On this day I chose a back road which “T”d at a high school. I stopped at the stop sign and starred at the school. With the cloud still hanging over me I cried all over again, just right there at the stop sign, staring at the school. Luckily the roads were desolate. I thought of Timbrlee and Breckell and how smart and beautiful and how fast they were growing. I imagined them going to school someday, dating, driving, college and becoming mothers, and the precious day when I will get to be a Grandmother. Then my thoughts turned to this precious baby in my growing round belly and asked out loud what Heavenly Father wants of me with this child. I bawled and bawled and bawled. The cloud that had been hanging over my head now had settled over me. It pierced my heart, mind and soul. The ache was so strong it engulfed me and I hung over the steering wheel with heaps of sobs. I still don’t understand it, yet I let it all out there at the stop sign. I repented for being so unwilling to accept whatever the Lord has in store for me. I repented for being an unprofitable servant these last weeks; and I repented for wallowing in my own pity and doubt. I promised to accept His will and told Him I will do whatever it is He wants from me. At that moment, a light rested upon my mind and as clear as day I heard Him say, “This child is so beautiful, joy will fill your home with her presence.” The clouds parted, peace filled me heart, complete joy engulfed every fiber of my body and I was free.

The last months of pregnancy were peaceful and slow. My excitement was full in preparing for this new baby. If I was not taking care of our two little girls, I was busy making a baby blanket, washing clothes, bedding, and preparing a nursery, Our spacious three bedroom apartment was filling up fast!

Music therapy

Dear Malia,

You started music therapy a few weeks ago.  It was a hard step for you, anything that changes is so hard.  The first session I went back with you, which the facility doesn't normally like to do, but the therapist could tell you were really needing me.  You clung to my neck and cried.  I had to eventually just leave you in the therapy room screaming and clawing at the door as I left.  It broke my heart but I just remembered the story of Temple Grandin that her mom pushed her to do hard things, so she could gain confidence in herself.  So I left you crying, while i cried with you. 

I called later to find that you had calmed down.  Well the next session was worse.  When you saw the therapist you threw yourself on the ground and wouldn't go with her.  The therapist is a tiny little thing and with you throwing yourself and kicking she was unable to carry you, so she had to get help from another therapist to carry you into the building.  It again broke my heart.  I thought if this doesn't change soon I am not going to send you to music.   Yet I know how much you love music and I knew you would learn so much. Music is so good for the brain and I wanted so bad for you to go.... but not at your expense. 

So the third time we were driving there  I called the therapist and asked her if she would be waiting for us and just whisk you off before you had a chance to start a fit.  It worked!!!  It all happened so fast you just went with her wondering what happened.  Since then you have had 3 more sessions all big successes!  You now ask everyday "I go yife today?"  Life is the name of the facility where you receive your therapies.  It has been great to see you transform!  Here is an email from your music therapist in your last session.  She is very happy with how you are transitioning!


Malia transitioned easily. She was a little hesitant to give up her flash cards she had brought along but was reminded that she gets to see cards during music, which seemed to help. Hello song: Malia sat down today relatively quickly and only needed a little reminder to do so. She is doing better with understanding the routine of this rather than going to the bookcase or drawers to try to pull things out. After strumming in the hello song, the therapist created a schedule for her to follow, and she sat very quietly waiting for it to be done. She enjoyed the schedule today and appeared comforted by having something to look at visually to see what was next. 

 

Oral motor: Needed moderate prompting to work on a frown face, fish face, and licking her upper lip. The last of these was the hardest, but she made some progress in moving her tongue to her top lip. Sequencing: Malia loved the Halloween brewing song today. She got to wear a witch hat and a cowboy hat to dress up, which was discovered to be very rewarding for her. She needed moderate to maximum prompting to follow the steps, name creepy things to put into the witch's brew, and stir with drum sticks. She also needed prompting to tell the therapist when she was ready to be done. Body part recognition: Worked on singing body parts and putting them onto a Mr. Potato head. Malia seems to get overwhelmed with a lot of choices when everything is on the floor and does better with a smaller choice field.

Way to go Malia!  Love you so much!
xoxo
-Mom

Cheer leading

Malia, 

You are in special Needs Cheer Leading sponsored by Aunt Sandy and Uncle Brett! 

You love it and beg to go everyday!  You call it "cheewing"  guess it's a hard word to say! The girl that works with you is Baylie and you love her!  You two are so so cute together!  It's so fun seeing you enjoy something this much!

You were awarded Student of the Month for October!  That was fun you, and Dad had that morning off so he was able to come and see you receive your certificate!  When you were in Kindergarten you received an award for attendance, but you were to scared to go up and get it, I had to carry you.  Look at you now 2 years later!  Walking up there like such a big girl smiling your big smile and walking up there by yourself!  You are growing up my little darling!

Speaking of growing up you learned how to buckle your seat belt last week!  It was a big happy day for me!  You finally decided you were going to do it and you did!  Look at all you can do when you put your mind to it!  Now all of my four children can buckle themselves!  Wahoo!  If we could just get you potty trained!