Ruth's birth story (only a year late!) part 1

Baby #6. Our little Ruth Ann.

Let me start 6 years ago, because that was when I knew that Ruth was going to be joining our family. I wrote about it a little bit in Lincoln's birth story, but it is really Ruth's story...

We had just moved to Provo and Stephen had started the MBA program at BYU. It was a Sunday afternoon; Stephen was upstairs playing with the 3 (at the time) kiddos and I was downstairs reading my scriptures. Out of nowhere I had the thought that there was a little girl named Ruth waiting to come to our family. Okay, good with that. Then another thought that she was going to be born naturally. Again, I can do that. Then that it didn't need to be immediately, just be thinking about it. Okay, can do. And then "you should go tell Stephen."

Over a year later Lincoln was born - most assuredly not a girl. Two years later, along comes Trevor - again, not a girl. And then this pregnancy. In the days leading up to the ultrasound I kept wondering if this was our Ruth. I was excited to be having a baby either way, honestly and truly, because I knew eventually we would get our little girl. As soon as we saw our baby was a girl, Stephen and I looked at each other and knew it was our Ruth.

But now I'm getting ahead of myself, because there was another happening before I got pregnant as well. It's kind of a silly one, but made all the difference to us! Ready? We bought a second car. Funny, right? We've always been a one-car family. For a little while when Stephen and I were dating we each had our own car, but that was it. Thirteen years of one car. And the thing holding us back from having another baby was our 7-seater minivan + a very small student stipend = can't afford a bigger car.

Then my grandpa sent a very generous Christmas present and Stephen said, "why don't we get a second car?" Aaaaaaaah! Lights from heaven! If we had a second car we wouldn't need to buy a bigger car! And that meant...another baby! So we found a car, offered the guy what Grandpa had given us, and away we drove!

There was just one more thing we had to plan for before getting pregnant: the Nutcracker Ballet. We couldn't have a baby until after the ballet in December since both Stephen I serve on the Board of Directors. But after the ballet we would be ready! Stephen would hopefully have a job lined up and we'd be a few short months away from an income again.

Anyhow, the first trimester of pregnancy was rough. Not really any different than the other pregnancies, only it lasted a little longer. I pulled out my super power during this time: the ability to fall asleep any time, anywhere. Like while reading to the kids or singing to Trevor at nap time or sitting in the car waiting for an activity to be over or working on spelling with the older kids. Things were great until about week 35, when I started realizing that being pregnant at age 34 is quite a bit different than being pregnant at 21.

At 32-33 weeks we all flew to Oregon for a final goodbye visit/family reunion with my mom. It was wonderful and awful and physically and emotionally draining. So worth it, but so hard as well.

One of the absolute best moments of the trip was being in the temple together - Dad was sick, but Mom, Stephen, all my brothers and their wives were able to do sealings together and then go visit the Celestial Room and sit and talk and cry. We all knew Mom was on her way out, so being reminded of our temple covenants was especially meaningful.

I was just over 35 weeks pregnant when we had Nutcracker...that was a long and tiring week! By the end of show day I could literally barely walk. A Christmas tree excursion, two concerts (I accompany Mason and Sammy's Boys' Choir), and a Christmas Day later, I could finally start thinking about the baby...

Mom's passing and today

My mom died on January 7, 2015, after fighting an aggressive ampulary cancer since February 2013. She tried diet change, chemo, alternative treatments. We all prayed and fasted and plead with the Lord. In fact, she said that if she was to die from the cancer it must be God's will, because there were too many faithful people praying for a miracle for her. And she believed in a God of miracles.

The last two years were filled with hope and then despair and then hope again. I call what I experienced anticipatory grieving, but tried to be hopeful and believe in miracles throughout. Sometimes I miserably failed, and it was hard to be optimistic like Mom was.

I talked with her the Saturday before she died. It was the last time she was coherent. She said she was just so tired, and ready to go. She didn't want any more pain and any more waiting. She was ready. She'd said her goodbyes and didn't want to keep saying them.

The next day she stopped talking, and Brett and Dad moved her to the hospital bed they'd set up in the office, by the window so that she could look out over the filberts. Brett said that they could tell she didn't want to be there, but they insisted it was time.

The kids and I skyped with her a couple of times on Monday; Trevor was there with her and joking around. Sometimes she would squeeze his hand and he'd tell us she liked what we were doing. She'd fall asleep while we were singing or talking, so Trev would call us back when she woke up. I called again on Tuesday, but by that point she was completely out of it.

She died about 2 a.m. Wednesday morning. Ruth was born at 12:47 a.m. two weeks later, another Wednesday. I think Mom was there with me the last little while, when I was pretty sure I couldn't have that baby.

I talked with Aunt Lisa (Mom's sister) in July, and learned some details I hadn't known before. Aunt Lisa had planned to come visit the weekend following Mom's passing, but moved up the date when Aunt Lori (another sister) told her it was probably now or never. Aunt Lisa said that was one of the best decisions she's ever made. She and Lori took turns sitting with Mom when Dad was resting, and they were both with her when she passed.

Aunt Lisa said it was so peaceful and reverent. One second she was there, the next she was gone. She just quietly slipped away.

I like to think that there were hundreds or maybe thousands of people waiting to greet her--from her mom, my beloved grandma, to her grandparents and great-grandparents to the myriads of people she discovered through family history and temple work. She served so many! I'll bet they were so happy and excited to meet her--I know she was excited to meet them!

I mourn for me. I mourn for my kids, who will never know their Grammy like I knew my grandma. I mourn the times we would have spent together, the babies I never got to see her meet. I mourn the time I thought we would have. I mourn no more phone calls and encouraging words. I mourn her laughing at my stories and getting me to see the humor in the situations. I mourn no more emails or visits. No more baby quilts or garage sale-ing. No more walks and talks. No more bouncing ideas off of her...

Dad gave me her scriptures and journals. I tried to open the journals a month or so ago, but just couldn't do it. I've managed to use her scriptures a few times--I hear her voice when I read her notes in the margins, and know she would be so excited for my calling of Gospel Doctrine teacher.

All the family was together at Thanksgiving, where Mom gave us each a copy of some things she'd put together--her testimony, things she wanted us to know and stories from her journals. I tried to read them then, honestly I did, but I wasn't able to until months after her passing.

After she passed I had an overwhelming show of love extended to me. Mom's friends and Stephen's family sent me cards and flowers. My pseudo-sister Mel drew a beautiful picture of Mom holding Ruth. I still haven't read the cards, and even though Elise put the picture on our mantel, I still can't look at it.

I met with a grief counselor at Hospice this last week. She gave me some ideas on how to take baby steps to help me through grief--there is no way around it. It was so good to talk to someone who actually understood me and my pain and my grief. She listened and validated my feelings and gave me gentle suggestions so that I can keep moving forward and not get stuck in my anguish.

Last Wednesday I had scary thoughts like I just wanted to be with Mom and not be here anymore. My practical side knew that was wrong--too many people need me here--but my soul was ripping apart with pain and sadness.

Susan, the grief counselor, told me that hard days are normal, but the goal is that they decrease in intensity and frequency. That has been happening, so that's good. Baby steps forward, a few back, but overall the goal is forward motion.

For me that means re-establishing connections that I have let slide. With my Dad, with my brothers, with my aunts. I'd like to start talking with them again, but am apprehensive about how to start up again. Susan said to give myself time, and have a Plan B in case I can't handle something once we start talking. That not being able to handle things is okay, but not to let myself get stuck there. Days where I feel like doing nothing are okay, but they should be decreasing in frequency.

I need to let myself run the gamut of my emotions, and be honest with myself and those around me. I think I'm actually pretty good about that in my immediate family, and there are some close friends with whom I can also be perfectly honest.

In fact, last week, on my hard day, I texted Sandy (who lost a baby about 10 years ago). I asked her if she ever just wanted to join Aryn and not be here any more. She said yes. I felt so much better knowing I'm not alone in my feelings. Though that is kind of selfish, because it means someone else feels terrible, and I really don't want that.

Writing all of this was part of what I decided to do to help me--one of the thoughts I had while talking with Susan. I think Mom would approve.

Missing Mom

Some days I just really, really miss my mom. Yesterday was one of those days. It started off innocently enough--Stephen finished a "honey-do" item that has been on the list for a year or so. The project was replacing our passenger-side mirror that got pretty beat up when Mom was backing out of the garage. As in, being held on with duct tape. When Mom got home she sent a check so we could get it fixed...probably not thinking it would be over a year later...

Anyhow, when Stephen finished it he walked in the house and proclaimed, "Karin, wherever you are, we finally replaced that mirror!" And I started crying.

I continued to cry--seeing her coat hanging in the closet...watching Ruthie playing on the last quilt she made...pulling out Elise's camp quilt that Mom made--we tied it together when I visited last April when she was in chemo...thinking of how the 4th of July just won't seem the same without her at the farm party...seeing her star quilt and remembering the picture at Mormor's funeral of she and Mom wrapped in it together, smiling...cutting apple slices, like she always did, for my kids during a movie...playing songs she loved on the piano...so many happy memories, without the hope of making more in the future.

I think I'm a little extra emotional lately anyhow, what with the upcoming move, leaving friends, and having my two oldest kids off on adventures. Sometimes I try to numb myself to the ache by watching dumb shows on Netflix or staying really busy, but then all the pushing away catches up to me, and I just cry. I like to think of myself as having the "gift of weeping", to quote Marvin J. Ashton.

I had a...I don't know what word to use--wonderful? sad? happy?--talk with my mom's sister, my Aunt Lisa, last Sunday. It really was all of those words. We laughed, we cried, we talked about dogs and kids and travel and thank-you notes and my mom. She was there when my mom passed, so I got to hear how that all happened--I had never known. There is a peace in knowing how death came to her, quietly and peacefully, with those she loved so nearby.

Aunt Lisa lost her mom, my beloved grandma, 4 years ago. She told me that while the ache never quite goes away, the acute pain does subside. She said that now she and my other aunts and uncles can sit around and talk about grandma without bursting into tears--they can remember the fun and laughter without so much heartache.

I love you, Mom. I wish I could see you with me--so I could share stories and experiences and watch you watch my kids (and me) grow up. I wish my kids could know you like I knew Grandma.

'Til we meet again.

 (pictures from May 2014)

Oregon trip part 3, the Coast 11/2014

My one request concerning our beach house was that each family would have their own bathroom...well, at least that mine would. :) Our house, The Castle, did not disappoint! We spent most of our time inside, just hanging out, though Kaelah, Elise and I did slip away to do some shopping, and most of us went down to the beach at some point. Unfortunately Missy and Marni got super sick, so spent some quality time taking care of each other. And fortunately nobody else caught whatever they had!

Elise and Sammy thought it would be fun to play in the water...water temp 55, air temp 38, wind speed ~15 mph. It was fun...until Sammy did a face plant in the water while running from a wave. Brr! Luckily Uncle Brett can run fast - he ran his little guy up to the Castle and came back for Sammy, who was only halfway of the half mile up the hill to the house.

That wind was cold!!

The tide pools were lots of fun!

Mom was able to come out to the coast for a few minutes before she got too tired. Dad drove right onto the beach, so she was still able to enjoy watching the kids play from the car. Aunt Lori and Grandpa came to hang out for a few days, which was lots of fun!

I think Sammy will always treasure this picture of him and Grammy.

Couple of goofballs...

Ballet on the beach

On our last night all together at the Castle my brothers, some of their wives and some of my kids gathered in Mom's room to pray with her. We knelt around the bed (well, except for me and Mom), and Mom held my and Trevor's hands and Trevor prayed. There was a pretty amazing feeling in the room. Mom told us how much she loved us, and we all gave her long hugs before we left. What an amazing woman! Oh, how we miss her!

Mom did really well in spite of all the chaos. She napped a lot and went to bed early, but she loved that all of us were having so much fun together. She has always loved being in the middle of everything! 

Over the previous months Mom had written down a bunch of memories as well as looking through journal entries and pulling out stories she thought we would enjoy. She made new copies of "famous Cochran quotes" for everyone, and gave everyone a packet to have. [side note: I actually couldn't even bring myself to read through it until the night before her funeral. It was in my nightstand the entire time...I just couldn't bring myself to open it.]

On the last morning there she was even more tired than usual. I can still see Dad not leaving her side and shielding her from the chaos all around her. She slept all the way home and well into the late afternoon, when she got up and went to the couch until bedtime. 

Scott & Marni and Trevor & Kaelah had gone home, but the rest of us had a simple dinner and hung out talking until bedtime. In the morning Brett and Dad brought Jeff, Missy and my family to the airport. Saying goodbye to Mom was so hard. We all knew these were our last moments together in this life. 

Our last week together was quite representative of our lives together: Wonderful. I wouldn't change a thing. We left each other with no regrets. 

Oregon trip part 2, Grammy's house 11/2014

As soon as Mom decided to stop doing chemo and was given the "six months...or less" to live verdict we had a family Skype call and very quickly decided that we were all going to get to Corvallis around Thanksgiving and rent a house at the Coast and have our final reunion with Mom. Everything fell into place - a place to stay, no tests (Scotty & Jeff are in med school), cheap(ish) flights...we were just meant to be together.

One of the absolute best moments of our Oregon trip was being in the temple together - Dad was sick, but Mom, Stephen, all my brothers and their wives were able to do sealings together and then go visit the Celestial Room and sit and talk and cry. That was the one thing Mom always wanted: to be in the temple with all her children and their spouses. 

I don't quite know how to express my feelings about it without possibly sounding like "oh, we're so great", but we were all there. After all the challenges and difficulties, we were all there together. And to be reminded that one day, not too soon, we'll all be together again. It was a very joyful, teary time.

We did some singing around the piano - another of Mom's favorite things in the whole world!

The kids had so much fun with aunts & uncles & grandparents and cousins!

Most everyone arrived on Thanksgiving Day, then to the temple on Friday, the Civil War game (OSU vs UO) on Saturday, little Kate Carol's blessing on Sunday and then off to the Coast!

Pics from our Oregon trip 11/2014

This last November my entire Cochran family gathered in Oregon for a final family reunion with Mom. It was a very bittersweet experience - we had a wonderful time together, but in the back of my mind "for the last time" kept nagging me. We had our adopted sister, Mel, come and take pictures one day...

Grandpa taught Mason and Stephen how to make Swedish butter paddles! I love how Mason is looking to Grandpa to see if he did it right, and Grandpa is smiling down at him. Mel knows how to capture a moment!!

Mom & Dad, Trevor, Kaelah & crew

Jeff & Missy, mi familia

Brett, Jen & crew, Scotty & Marni

My mom

I have started this post so many times, but rarely get past the first few sentences. How do I write that my mom is dying? Because putting it in cold, hard words makes it real. And yet, it doesn't change the facts: it's looking like she has less than 2 weeks left on this earth.

That is hard. Impossibly difficult. Soul wrenching.

I burst into tears at times I least expect it. Little Trevor runs for his blanky every time, rushing to bring it back to me and wipe my tears and do a silly dance to make me smile. When we told the kids the news on Saturday there were a lot of tears, and Trevor gave his blanky to Elise to wipe hers. Along with shedding their own tears, my kids comfort me with hugs and prayers.

I said my goodbyes to Mom on Saturday night. She is ready to move on. In fact, my dad said "She just wishes that the next time she wakes up she would be free from this vale of tears." That's essentially what she told me on the phone - this last stage of dying is really just dragging on. She feels like she is done here - ready for the next stage in her eternal life.

As weird as that was to talk about, I'm glad I know she feels that way. It is comforting that she isn't fearful or dreading the future, but can look forward with perfect faith and confidence and peace.

I don't cry because I don't have faith in temple covenants and the sealing power or in Jesus Christ's power to save. I do have that faith. I'm not worried about where she is going - she gets to be with Grandma and her grandparents and countless other people whose temple work she has done. I believe that.

I cry because I am going to miss her terribly. I'll miss being able to call her up to tell her a funny story about one of the kids, or because I need help with a recipe, or need advice. I'll miss her not being here when my daughter is born, or showing off pictures of her darling grandkids. I cry because I won't be able to be at the funeral.

So when people try to comfort me in my times of extreme sadness, reminding me of the plan of salvation doesn't help. I believe it. Telling me she will soon be free from pain doesn't help. I know that. Neither does the fact that I will see her again or she is in a better place or it is just us who are left behind who mourn. I've got that.

But losing a parent sucks. It just does. No two ways around it. And right now I just need to grieve and cry and be sad and not do my dishes sometimes. I don't know when my weepiness will pass. I'm told it does, and I'm not one to wallow in misery, so I'm sure it will. I don't always cry, but my tears are frequently near the surface, and I never know when they will start.

So please, please be patient with me as I mourn.

How I'm doing

Today was a great day. Yesterday wasn't so hot, but I guess what I'm feeling is normal--the ups and downs and unproductive days mixed in with my normal cheerful productiveness. My kids are so sweet--in perfect sincerity they each asked me sometime today how I was really doing. Mason, when I was tucking him in, asked me, and commented that this morning started off rough, but I seemed to be much happier in the afternoon. I love that they notice things like that, and take the time to check in on me. :) 


I've decided that trying to hide my feelings and why I'm acting so irregularly isn't good for me, and that it is okay for them to see me struggle. Giving myself permission to not be perfect has been very freeing for me since my downs are further down than normal.

I've also started really answering people when they ask how I'm doing or how my mom is doing. Because frankly, I'm sad and scared and worried and I need people to talk to to help me make it through this--but I am okay because I am going to make it through this. 

My mom is still in the hospital (since Monday) due to a doctor's mistake that caused a lung to collapse, but she should be home tomorrow. She'll start chemo in a couple of days and we are all anxious about what that will do to her. 

Saying things like that out loud to people who care is painfully healing. To actually say the words is scary because it makes them more real, but it is wonderful to know that people really truly care and will let me cry when I need to cry. I feel closer to everyone with whom I share my real feelings. 

I've also decided that I'm just going to cry sometimes. The more I try to hold in my tears the more scrunched up my face gets, and I don't want it to get stuck that way. :) So I just let the tears roll. It's wonderful how loving and understanding people are!

Slump

From Dr. Seuss:

Wherever you fly, you'll be the best of the best.
Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

Except when you don't.
Because, sometimes, you won't.

I'm sorry to say so
but, sadly, it's true
that Bang-ups
and Hang-ups
can happen to you.

You can get all hung up in a prickle-ly perch.
And your gang will fly on.
You'll be left in a Lurch.

You'll come down from the Lurch
with an unpleasant bump.
And the chances are, then,
that you'll be in a Slump.

And when you're in a Slump, 
you're not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself is not easily done.

For the last couple of weeks I have been in a Slump. Nutcracker is over, Gifts of the Heart is over, my mom is sick and I am most assuredly in a Slump. Sleeping in, wasting time on Facebook, reading brain candy books, letting the laundry pile up, staying up late watching shows, saying "sorry I can't do that" too often. Not award-winning behavior, especially for a homeschooling mother. :)

As I was thinking about my Slump today I decided there are a couple of reasons why I'm here. One is simply that I don't have any looming big projects, and I am recovering from my most recent projects. The other is the news about my mom.

I think I am trying to keep myself from thinking. Because if I sit and think about what could happen I start to get all weepy, and I hate being weepy. It's so much easier to not have to use my brain at all, and goodness knows there are plenty of things waiting to waste away my time!

NO! 
That's not for you!

Somehow you'll escape 
all that waiting and staying.
You'll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.

On and on you will hike.
And I know you'll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.

This week my goal is to do that: to face up to my problems, whatever they are. To give myself permission to think about the worst-case scenario and accept that it might happen. To pull myself out of this Slump and start accomplishing things again. To look beyond myself and see what those around me need.

So...be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray 
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,
you're off to Great Places! Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So...get on your way!