Early July Morning, Cocoa Beach, Florida

Thursday, July 23, 2015


Twenty-seven years ago today, after countless miscarriages, I finally gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. I want to share my story in hopes that it can help others going through the same things I did.

About a year after my husband and I were married, we decided to start our family. Everyone else around us had no problem starting their's and so we thought in no time, we would be having pitter patter of little feet.  That was not what was to happen.

At the time I was working at a major hospital, just downstairs from their infertility clinic. I was told that after one year of trying, then come see them. The first thing they did was run a few basic tests on both my husband and I. Everything came back normal. The next thing was to check if my plumbing was free and clear. After a very painful procedure, all was great.

Shortly before these procedures started, a family member approached me and suggested I have a progesterone test. She had had infertility issues and miscarriages, and come to find out, her problem was low progesterone. All that was needed to check this was a simple blood test. I mentioned it to my doctor, but was told that was pretty rare, and they first needed to run some other tests.

My next procedure was a laparoscopy to make sure of several things, including endometriosis. Before the test, again, I inquired about the progesterone. Still nothing.

After my laparoscopy, I was told there was some scar tissue, but not enough to prevent me from getting pregnant. They lasered what was there off, and spoke to me about what next. Again, I asked about the blood test. Still nothing.

During all this time, I was having very HEAVY and painful periods. I asked about that, and even wondered if maybe I was having miscarriages. I was informed that was not what was going on. I kept asking, and finally they told me the next time I think I had a miscarriage, to bring it in.  Well...I did.

Guess what!? I had had a miscarriage. No telling how many I had had. Finally after three years of going to the infertility clinic and one documented miscarriage, they did a blood test. I had EXTREMELY low progesterone. Really!? All of this heart ache could have been avoided. 

At first nothing was done, and I did get pregnant, long enough for a positive test. Sadly, shortly after I found out the good news, I miscarried...again. My doctor told me that we needed to wait a couple of months before getting pregnant, and that he would put me on progesterone (25mg, TWO times a day). Several months of me taking the progesterone, there was still no baby. The next step were infertility drugs. We really did not want to go down that street, and fortunately, we did not have to. I got pregnant! At first I was told to stay in bed for a couple of weeks, and after everything seemed to be fine, I was able to return back to work and most my other activities; everything, except dance and exercise. Needles to say, I was not able to get my baby fat off after the pregnancy, but that's ok, I had a beautiful baby boy, and that was all that mattered. 

We now have three boys and one girl. All our children were progesterone babies. In between all of them, and after our youngest I had other miscarriages, only because we had moved and I had new doctors who would not listen to me.

One story I would like to share...about two years after we had our daughter (2nd child), I became pregnant. Immediately, I went to the doctor asking for progesterone. He asked why I thought I needed it. I told him...so, then he prescribed progesterone, but told me I would not need it for a couple of months. I was really upset, and tried to explain my story. To shut me up, he gave me a shot of 25mg and told me to come back next week for another. I told him it would not be enough, but he would not listen. A few days later, I miscarried. I was furious! When I went in to see him after this, he told me, "Your young, and you have two children...." I left in tears and never returned to the heartless doctor!

A few months later, I found another doctor, and told her about what had happened. She put me on progesterone, and within a few weeks, I was pregnant. After a short time on bed rest, I had a very healthy pregnancy, and gave birth to another beautiful baby boy.

It wasn't long after we had our third child, that I got pregnant again. We had since moved to another state; the same state and doctor that delivered our last child. I learned I was pregnant very early, and called the doctor's office immediately. They told me I needed to wait a couple of months. I told them no, and came in. They did see me, and I was able to see the doctor. He was amazed that I knew so early. I told him that I had been through so much, that I knew my body well. I also told him about the progesterone. He decided that I needed it, but not for a couple of months. NO! I begged him to look at my records, which he did. The expression on his face was priceless. 

"Oh my!" He said. "We need to get you on that like, yesterday!" Sometimes I get so upset at doctors. It is so refreshing to have one that actually will listen. 

I was to be 35 by the time this child would be born, so I was double high risk, but this was actually my healthiest pregnancy. I took tap lessons, and even performed at 6 months pregnant. I never even had to have bed rest with this one YEAH!

Sadly, we did have one more miscarriage when I was 41, and that was the end of this story. Having a miscarriage not only puts your body through a lot, but also messes with your mind. I think of those babies that could have been...especially the last. I know it seems weird, but I feel that it would have been a girl, and I think of her a lot, especially when June comes along, because that is when she was due. She would have been 14 this past June...going into high school...

But you know, I must move one. It is not bad to think of these little spirits, and I hope that my story can help someone. I think sometimes we go through these hard times so that we can not only grow, but help each other. I am grateful for our four children, and now I am a grandmother. Life is such a special thing, and we need to all embrace it, and be happy with what we have...it could be so much worse. 

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Are You A Pioneer? YES!

When we think of Pioneers, we think of those people who, long ago, went west to settle that vast area. These people were strong and experienced many things...both good and bad. 

The other day, I was reading an article which asked the question..."Are you a pioneer?"  I have heard people talk about their pioneer heritage and have marveled at the many stories they have shared. My first response to that question would be, "No." But then as I read on, I found that, well, maybe I am a pioneer. 

The definition of a pioneer is someone who was the first. That could mean the first to attend college, or even graduate from high school. Maybe you were the first to play a varsity sport. There are a lot of ways that any of us can be pioneers. I would like to share my pioneer story with you.

I grew up going to a Catholic school and yet was a member of the Baptist Church. I remember my mom taking us three girls to church every Sunday. We attended the First Baptist Church in our hometown. I was about eight when I was baptized there. As the years went by, I started have many questions. I remember one time talking to our minister about some of them, and the answers I got disturbed me. 

One question I had was what happens to us after we die? Will we know our parents? Our family and friends? The answer I got was, "No. We will have no recollection of this earth life." Now I do know that many Baptist Churches believe in an after life. This particular minister did, but how he explained it to me, that we would not know our parents in heaven as our parents on earth, seemed so, well, not right. What is the purpose of this life anyway?

As I asked more questions, I can remember the minister telling me that I should not question God. Well, I was not questioning Him, I just wanted to know Him better. Soon after this, at the age of about 12, I quit going to that church. Our congregation at the time was loosing a lot of members due to some type of uproar, which I won't get into. My mom also felt uneasy, and so we started going to other churches...all Baptist, just different congregations. 

Eventually, my best friend and I decided to start visiting other religions. We went to all kinds, but still, I was not getting my questions answered, and I felt uncomfortable at these other places. By the time I was 14, I was not going to any church, and I was also not attending the Catholic school anymore. I was in high school. 

The second semester of my Sophomore year, I met a girl who was a Mormon. I really did not know much about Mormons, just that the Osmond's were Mormon. Not quite sure I even realized it was a religion.

One day, my friend came to lunch with some strange looking gold book. She had given a speech about her religion...Mormon. Hmmm. I started asking questions...A LOT of them, and she was able to answer ALL of them. Hmmm..I was very interested in this church. By the time we were graduating from high school, we were pretty good friends, and she was heading out to a Mormon school in Idaho. 

Our family was about to embark on a six week trek across the country from Florida all the way to California, into Mexico, up the West Coast of the US, into Canada, and then down through the Rocky Mountain States and then home. One place we were going through was Utah, and my friend suggested we go to Temple Square. 

I loved Temple Square. I loved everything about it, and before we left, I filled out a card so that I could receive more information about the church. Several weeks after we got home (I had forgotten all about getting information), my information showed up...in the form of two young men. We let them in, and they proceeded to teach us about the church. 

After several visits, my dad told the missionaries that we were not interested. I was very sad, because I was interested. I pretty much thought that was the end of that, but soon, my friend returned from college for Christmas break. We hung out a lot together during that two weeks...I even attended a church meeting with her. She eventually went back to school, but ended up coming home for the summer, and that is when I really started to do my investigating of the Mormon Church.

Long story short, I ended up going to the church college with my friend, and it was there I joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Six months later, my mom joined. It has been 36 years since I was baptized into the church, and it was the best decision I have EVER made. Because of the Mormon Church, I am who I am today. If it was not for the church, I hate to think where I would be...not a good thought. 

Many do not understand that members of The Church of JESUS CHRIST of Latter Day saints are indeed Christian. One thing that impressed my mom when she was learning about Mormons, is that everything we do, is in the name of Jesus Christ. When she was learning about the church, she was a Baptist Sunday School teacher, and found that in her lessons she was actually using the Book of Mormon to clarify many of the teachings in her class. The Book of Mormon testifies of Christ, it helps to understand the Bible. The Bible and the Book of Mormon go hand in hand in testifying of the Savor and his atoning sacrifice for ALL of us.

As members of the church, we are far from perfect, but we strive to head in that direction. Most of us try to be good examples, we pray to our Heavenly Father for guidance and direction, and we read scriptures often, many times daily. Family is very important, and we believe that if we live in accordance to our teachings and through our temples we can live with our families forever.

If you want to know more we have a great website mormon.org. Also at the top right of my blog there is a link (I'm A Mormon) to part of my testimony. Or you can just click here. You can check that out, and even read testimonies of other members. I hope you check it out. 

Monday, July 13, 2015

Nasty Wallpaper!

Several weeks ago, I decided to start taking down the wallpaper in the kitchen. We have gobs of wallpaper that need taken down in our new home. I hate taking down wallpaper, because you never know what you will get yourself into when you do start. I had a hunch that this paper had been on the walls since the house was built in 1989, and that it was on untreated drywall. 

here is the French Country kitchen with pink and white pin stripe wallpaper

I called a painter and a lady who later I found is the one who put the paper up. Both came to have a look see. I could tell they did not want to tackle it. By their reaction, I knew it was not going to be an easy job, but it must come down!!!!

Both these people left, and were to get back with me with a price to get it down, and also a price to paint. I have yet to hear from them. I decided to start on my own adventure of doing it myself. Both the painter and wallpaper lady did tell me how to tackle it, and both gave the same advice. HOT, HOT water in a spray bottle, spray it down and CAREFULLY start to scrape the paper off. By the way, the lady did a wonderful job putting the paper up. She told me she puts it up so it won't come down...she is right...it doesn't want to come down.

As I started pulling down paper, I noticed, there is another layer of wallpaper that had primer on it....ugh!!!! Some areas the paper comes down pretty easily, but other areas, not so much. I believe they put some type of glue onto the surface of parts of the drywall before they hung it, so those areas are very difficult to remove...very meticulous. 

I started this project a few weeks ago, then headed to Dallas to spend 10 days going to Six Flags and Hurricane Harbor with my in-laws. Now that I am back, I have started back up again. Our youngest son will be back from college in less than two weeks, so I would love to have this room completed by the time he comes.

Ok, so much for my break...back to work!