[Ro]

Rules: You have until 12 PM midnight on SATURDAY to join in on the fun. Everyone that adds a cohesive story about a memory that has changed their life (it can be in a small way or a large way) will be entered into a drawing for a $25 Gift Certificate. You will get one chance per memory shared. I will give you THREE credits if you share a memory AND a layout that matches the memory in the gallery, but you must put the link to the gallery post in the same memory post. I'll show you how that looks below. Use the "http://" function above to do that. (Just click on it, enter the link, then the name. It's really pretty easy to do. Just try it and see).

You can enter more than one memory, but you have to let someone else share inbetween. You are allowed to comment in support of other people's memories before you tell your own memory. Just so something in your post to separate out the supportive comments and your own memory. Something like doing this:

-----------------------------------------------


Memory




---------------------------------


I became extremely aware during my 14th year that life was about more than just school and friends and clothing. That there was a purpose to it. That we would go on after death and that what we did here mattered. That my relationship with God DID matter. This changed me tremendously and I never looked at anything the same way and it became the basis for how I attempted to choose what I did.

When I was at the end of my Junior Year in High School, I was trying very hard to graduate early (I succeeded - long story). But there was one particular moment that I want to share now.

The high school principal called me into his office and tried to talk me out of doing it. It just meant money to him, but I wanted out of there. We went back and forth on and on. And then he offered me Validictorian even if I managed to flunk every class the next year. I was horrified, told him that I would not be a participant in anything like that, and stood up and left.

I was keenly aware of truth and knew that I had to live according to what I believed was true. This was not truth. What he called out at me in anger (that my response to him proved that I was socially malajusted) was not truth.

I have tried to judge things ever since according to what I think is true, even if it meant that people did not approve of me or like me or that I was going against popular opinion.

At times, it has been a lonely road. At other times, I have found people like me and those times have been extremely rewarding to me.

I do not have the handle on truth, but I am a truth-seeker.

My layout on how I feel about truth

[Ro]

Come on... Nobody wants to play?

It doesn't have to be a BIG memory. Just a memory!

[momentousangel]

Of course you know I've got lots of memories to share, lol. Was just side tracked reading, lol.


________________________
Memories
Layout is here: Memories
________________________
"I've always loved everything about the country life.
Feeling the tall blades of grass on my bare feet, the
sweet scent of the wind as it softly blew in my face.
The memories of running through the fields, full of
their wild flowers, that often tempted me to stop and
pick a handful or two. Those were the days, the simple
times in life where I had no worries. The days I would
live in the country, as a carefree child. Those days in
my eyes were truly some of the most wonderful days
in my life. As I child I loved mother nature, it didn't
matter to me during those days whether she was calm
and content, or full of rage causing the tivers to run
over. I had to be out there, near her, listening. As I
walked through the leaves that were freshly raked in
piles, to the sound of the leaves rustling under my
feet, to me it was such a sweet sound. To hear early
in the morning the birds chirping, softly singing their
songs in the distance, was such beautiful music to my
wars. Yes, those were the best days. The days when
I too, was a carefree child."
__________________________
There is a second layout that tells how this memory effects me in my life today. It is more of the journaling, but I'm unsure on whther or not I add it here or to a new post?

[BonnyJean]

I was just waiting till I did my layout! lol I have one planned, just have to finish another layout first!

[lisaedson]

(I have more than just this memory and will be scrapping those so I'll post them when I am done!)

When I was five and learning to read properly at school, I would pester my Mum to read with me, but she was always working on the evening I bought the books home, Friday, so I used to persuade my older brother, Paul, to read with me instead, he was 5 years older than me. We used to sit curled up on the armchair, both of us squashed together reading my childish books.

As I got older, he nutured my love of books still by bringing me home books from his library as he was at secondary school and I was reading ahead of my age group. He bought me Roald Dahl's "boy" and "Solo" autobiographies amongst others. We used to fight like nobody's business but we were always close despite the age gap, and he was a wonderful sweet natured big brother.

Because of my brother I was reading well ahead of my age group, I did well in my English and Literature lessons, but most importantly - I developed a love of books and reading that I still have to this day. I read all the time, especially when I am depressed and need an escape.

My brother gave me something when he gave me some of his time on those rainy Friday afternoons more precious than any material thing.

[princess7920]

My memory happens over a course of 7 months.

It was 1993 I worked at Taco Bell making a tad bit more than minimum wage. I was 23 yrs old and living with a roommate, but nothing prepared any of my friends, family or myself to learn I was pregnant.

I wasnt seeing anyone it was a one night stand. Where was I to go? Everyone told me no. noone would help me find answers. See I am white the babys daddy was black. All through the next 9 months I felt sadness and pain hopeful and hopeless but I felt connected to the child that lay in my womb.

I decided on adoption and then decided I should go back to church and ask my God to help me through this time. I met the parents who would eventually become the adoptive parents by a chance meeting in church one Sunday.

Life was wonderful I knew the second I met them that this is where my child was to be. They shared all my beliefs and values and moreover they excepted him because of him not based on skin color.

The day came and I was to give birth everyone showed up that was suppose to be there. At 130 pm 1994 my son was born to me.

That moment will forever hold and imprint on my heart. For 24 hours I was his mom and he was my son. I sang to him I cried holding him I wouldnt take a million dollars in exchange for that time.

On the sat before Mothers day 1994 24 hours after he was born I placed him in his mothers arms.

This has impacted my life on so many levels for one I can no longer have kids and never had any after him so I am left with this longing that can never be filled. I could give back to the community and adopt myself but I live a lesbian lifestyle now so that isnt a possibility. But my precious baby boy, (12 yrs old this yr) will live in my heart forever...Catherine

[jazijey]

My parents divorced when I was young and my mom moved us around a lot. When I entered middle school we finally stayed in the same town until my sophomore year. I was 16, in love and my mom told me we were moving out of state. I begged and pleaded to stay with some of my friends so I could finish high school with my friends, but she would not allow it.

When we moved to Florida I hated everything about it, especially the school. I came from an open campus to a prison that wouldn't even allow you to cross the street for a soda (believe me I tried and got in trouble). I met an old friend (that's a whole other story) who would ride the bus with me to the school only to walk to the mall catching a bus back to our neighborhood where we would skip at her house. I eventually dropped out.

How ironic that I am now a high school teacher and loving EVERY minute of it. I think of my students as my kids, and I share my story with them in hopes of deterring them from making the same mistake I did.

This past July I entered into an accelerated program to earn my master's degree and I 'm pleased to report I will be done after one more class (but unfortunately it entails my writing a 40 page thesis paper).

I am so happy to have experienced what I have in life as I believe it has led me to the career I truly believe I was destined to have. I dropped out of high school because I felt none of my teachers cared, so why shall I. I hope to make a difference in all my kids lives as I try to mentor them allowing each of them choices in life regarding the paths they chose to explore in life.

[scrapsoflife]

My memory seems to pale in comparison, and while I have others, this was the first to come to mind and I think it's sweet, so it's the one I'll share:

I was just about three years old when my Paw Paw Woodrow passed away. I have a few pictures of him, even some of us together, but no real memories of him.

But I do have this memory of playing this game with my Uncle Donald. He had dentures and when I would pass my hand over his face he'd pop them out sort of, then when I'd pass my hand back the other way he's pop them back in. (Okay, I realize it's a little silly and very possibly gross, but it was terribly entertaining to a two year old, I assure you.)

Anyway. We were talking about things a couple years ago and I mentioned this story to Mom. She was first puzzled because a) my Uncle Donald doesn't have dentures and she had no knowledge of this game. Then she realized that it wasn't Donald that I was remembering, but that it must have been Woodrow, my grandfather who doted on my when I was just a toddler.

It was really neat to discover that not only did I have this independent memory from age 2, but that it was of my grandfather, a person I thought I had no memories or knowledge of, other than a face in a photo and a line on the family tree.

[katiekat]

It was 8 A.M. on September 14 when I woke to mild contractions. I didn't get my hopes up. There were 3 false alarms and my daughter was late. I just went about getting my son fed and myself showered as usual. but by the time I got dressed my contractions had brought me to my knees. My husband took me to the hospital. The nurses checked me after 3 hours and found out I had dialated 5-6 cm. Things were going quickly. I started having trouble laying on my back and had to lay on my side. Something wasn't right, things didn't feel right. The moniters started their screetching beeping sounds, my daughters heart beat started to drop with every contraction. The nurses jumped to action calling my doctor, no one would tell me what was going on. The doctor finally told me they had to deliver the baby now, it didn't matter if I wasn't completely dialated we had to try to push her out. I held onto the bed gripping the rails. My husband took my hand and I squeezed hard and started to cry. Tears were streaming down my face, finally my daughter crowned. "You need to stop pushing" The doctor told my husband and I the cord was wrapped around my daughters neck twice. When they pulled my daughter out she was crying. Thank you God she was crying! I was crying. But then there were 5 doctors surrounding her and putting a mask on her face and checking everything. My doctor was talking to me but I didn't care I just wanted to know if my little girl was alright. I wanted to hold her to rock her and tell her everything would be okay. They wheeled her over all hooked up to oxygen in her bed. I barely got to see her before they took her to the NICU. My husband told me he should go with her and I agreed, one of us should be there. But they were gone so long...and as I sat there I didn't know what to do or think. I didn't want to eat. I was all alone now in a dark room. The doctor came back and told me something about the cord blood indicating that we were lucky we delivered her when we did. Lucky. That word stayed with me as I looked up at the clock...an hour and a half and they were still gone. The nurse finally told me my daughter had some minor trouble breathing but she was okay...After 3 hours they wheeled my down towards my room and I asked almost desparately if I could first see my daughter. They wheeled me up close and I was able to finally hold my little babies hand. I started to cry the moment my hand touched hers. They let me hold her and I thought to myself I can't believe she is mine, She is so beautiful.


http://scrapgirls.com.ipbhost.com/index.ph...cmd=si&img=6110

[roxanna]

one memory that I have from when I was younger was going to grandma's and grandpa's house that was right over a hill from where I lived.... I'd walk down the hill and I'd meet my cousin who lived below in another house and we would go to their house and have coffee bread! You are probably wondering what coffee bread is... well my grandma would begin by making her normal coffee... which included the hot coffee (of course), milk and sugar... she would get a bowl, place some coffee on the bottom, get a piece of bread put on it... pour lots of sugar on that piece of bread then added more coffee and then another piece of bread and then more sugar... sometimes it would just be two layers like mentioned just here and then sometimes it would be three... But this is one of the few memories that I can remember growing up as a kid into my early teens

[Cropnpix]

princess7920, on Mar 21 2006, 06:38 PM, said:

My memory happens over a course of 7 months.

But my precious baby boy, (12 yrs old this yr) will live in my heart forever...Catherine
<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Catherine, this is a very moving memory. Thank you for sharing it with
us and trusting us with such a personal memory.

[Heather J]

When I was 24, I was a single mom in college, two jobs, a nasty apartment in the city and no life.

It was my 3rd semester in a 2 year program and I was on deans list the whole time. In class one day I suddenly began to feel strange...I tried to leave the room and run down the hall but I never made it. The next thing I recall was waking up in an ambulance. My first thought was my 2 year old who was in the college daycare. There was only my mom for me to count on to get her or help me and how could I call her in the hospital?
But that memory fades to days in the hospital, tubes and wires and needles...tests and more tests and then finally they said I could go home. My mother and Dad came to get me with my daughter and we sat silently waiting for the doctor to give me my discharge papers. When he finally came, he looked grim as *** and my mom squeezed my hand. I don't recall HOW he said that I had a brain tumor, or even what my mother asked in the numbness that followed I only recall my smiling daughter's face as she sat on my lap and looked up at me, slowly swinging her feet between mine. Something happens to you when you think you are going to die. After the fear, and then the anger, and then the sadness, comes a freedom. I found myself being a kinder me, a more understanding me, a free-er me.

The sickness came and the weakness and the pain meds that kept me asleep most of the time, thank God. But dimly I recall pretty crayon pictures shown to me and handprints of finger paint and kisses and snuggles and stuffed animals tucked in beside me.

I am now 38, I am on my second marriage, I have 3 kids, one on the way. I have not died. The seizures and pain that I experienced at 24, ended (so far) when I was 29 although I still suffer from headaches, transient vertigo and partial deafness. My two year old is almost 17. She is my pride and joy and she and I share a bond that I cannot share with my other children. We escaped death, together. We lived.

[HisThao]

These are awesome stories, ladies. Thank you for taking the time to share them!

[Ro]

Oh what wonderful memories you guys are sharing with us. I am so touched that you would trust us in this manner.

It is kind of awesome that you can share and feel like other people are hearing you, isn't it? Makes me feel like I am less like a single tree in an endless forest - or at least like some of the other trees know that I exist.

[roxanna]

reading these brings some tears into my eyes that is for sure...

[BonnyJean]

wow, thank you everyone! I really feeled privledged to hear everyone's stories! now, I just need to work on mine! lol

[s_k_wilson1990]

My daughter renewed her wedding vows on Sunday which brought a flood of memories to my mind. The one that sticks out the most is her birth. She was born 5 weeks early on a February morning, 1984. Labor was relatively easy. The delivery was normal but suddenly the room was filled with medical staff running here and there. I keep asking "Is my baby alright?Is my baby alright? No answers came for what seemed to be an eternity. Finally some said she is having trouble breathing and she was gone. I never even got to see her. I was alone in my room afraid to see her and afraid not to. See, I was already totally attached to her, my first born. Finally I worked up the courage to walk down the endless hall. As I reached the nursery the nurse walked and said she was out of danger. I cried tears of joy.

http://scrapgirls.com.ipbhost.com/index.ph...cmd=si&img=6125

[Sherry_in_AL]

I am a 56 YO female, married to my DH 36 years the end of this month. We have 1 grown son, who has made me proud all of his life. But I remember one evening when we were eating dinner in the small house we used to live in at the time. I wasn't working -- I was being a SAHM. DH didn't make a lot of money, but we were happy. That night we were have a pot roast, with some vegetables. All 3 of us at the table having a nice meal and talking about the day. My son was about 5 years old at the time. Ever since he was little, when he would get choked on something, he would come to me. I would kind of slap him on the back as he coughed, and he would put one arm up in the air (I have no idea where that started, or how he or I thought that one arm in the air helped, but it was just something that got started and continued). On this night, he took too big a piece of meat. He looked at me strangely, and I thought this was just another one of the usual "I swallowed it wrong" time of things. But he wasn't coughing like usual. And the look on his face wasn't the same as the previous times when he would get choked. He came toward me, and there was a panicked look in his eyes. I knew this wasn't the usual -- he really was choking, and it was serious. Although I am now both a nurse and a pharmacist, at this time I was neither (I'm a late bloomer!!) But I did watch and read just about anything medical. And I had seen and read about the Heimlich maneuver. Never tried it, of course, but. . . One look at him, and I knew -- really knew -- that he was in trouble. He was half-heartedly trying to raise one arm, but that was just old habit, and definitely wasn't going to do anything at this point. I grabbed him, swung him around, put my arms around his little body, making a double-fist with one hand over the other just below his ribcage, and pulled. But having never done this before, I didn't know how hard to pull. I did know that this first pull didn't have any effect. I held on, and jerked again -- really hard this time. The piece of meat in his throat flew across the room! And while all of this seemed to take forever, it was over so quickly that DH was hardly out of his chair by the time it was over. It was like a natural event -- I hadn't even gotten scared up till then. I just acted. But once the meat flew, and my son started coughing, and DH reached us, then I reacted! I started shaking so hard I couldn't stand anymore. I sat down and cried for the longest time. But I learned one valuable lesson about myself that night. Well, two lessons, really. One -- I can act quickly and logically in an emergency situation. But two -- I will completely lose it after the emergency is over. I'm sure glad to know it works that way, and not the opposite!

[Bonnie]

I live in South Africa and I am 27 years old and have two children, a son aged 5 and a daughter aged 2 and a half.
I think as a mom, the birth of your children stand out in your memory as the most special. So i won't go into those, I want to talk about a recent memory that happened on the 3 March this year.

It all began in 1994. I was a 15 year old girl, living with my dad as my older siblings had all moved out and gotten married and had children. I knew a woman who had moved to England and so got in contact with her and asked if she could find a girl my age that I could be penpals with. So she put me in touch with a girl and through this girl I started writing to other girls. One of them was called Emma. The other two girls consequently fell away and I remained writing to Emma. She too at the time was living with ther parents and two sisters. Our letters started off as small ones, just general news, but as things happened in our lives, like the loosing of friendships, crushes, boys, then when I got engaged and married and two years later she lost her father and then got married. I had my first child after two and a bit years after we were married at the age of 21 and then she fell pregnant and also had a little boy who is now two.
I had my second child when I was 23. We have seen each other through 9 years of love, heartache, joy, laughter. I know her like the back of my hand. She has been my one true friend, when others have moved on. She never left my side and soon our letters grew to sometimes close to 200 pages (written over the course of three to four months taken in turns). We send each other a gift parcel once a year, photos, we share our lives, our thoughts our fears. We talk on the phone, we email. W always joked about the kind of scenario that would eventually lead us to meet. I suggested that we write to Oprah with our story and maybe she would fly us to her studio and we could meet on international television! I have never been out of SA and with two small children and now, just don't have the money to travel.
Then last year her husband ran into some extra cash and told her that she could have anything she wanted for being such a loving wife and mother. She choose to come to SA to meet me. I was honored. She could of chosen anything. She left her son with him for two weeks (very hard for any mom to do and something I will always admire and thank her for that) and she came to a country she had never been to before to meet me for the first time in our lives! That was the 3 March when I fetched her from the airport!
It was like seeing a walking and moving photo coming towards me. We hugged and I cried tears of joy. The two weeks she was here were two of the most amazing weeks of my life. This person I knew so well on paper I knew so well and liked just as much in person.
It has strengethed and cemented our unique and amazing friendship and I know we will always be friends and one day I hope to go to England and meet her family and her husband and son.

I have this amazing story and all her letters to show my children one day as I am sure they won't remember meeting her.

There is nothing more amazing than having someone in your life that so touches you, that inspires you, that makes you laugh, that knows you so well. I will never forget that time.

[jemmia]

http://scrapgirls.com.ipbhost.com/index.ph...cmd=si&img=6126


My life was changed in feb 1983 when i became the mother to two adorable little ones whom i named Victoria and Nicholas. They were born a month early and were conceived as a result of a rape in the previous June.
When i came home that fateful night in June i was assaulted and raped at knifepoint. By the time i got home it was only 10pm and both my parents were out. i was 17 and young. i showered and climbed into bed and somehow fell asleep.
in the morning as my mother woke me, she was in her usual rush to get to work and i didnt say anything,when she came home that night i didnt say anything and i didnt say anything for the next 8 months. As i was a big girl as some would say, no one seemed to notice, not even me, especially under the baggy jumpers.

On the day i went into labour mum came home from work to find me in bed saying i didnt feel well, i didnt even know i was pregnant. mum thinking i had appendicitis took me to the health centre which was right next door to the maternity hospital luckily.
within 4 hours of mum coming home i had delivered my children in that hospital and sat in shock and disbelief as im sure my mother was.

On the next visit my mother arranged for a social worker and informed me i would have them adopted. it was for the best, no choices, this was how it would be.
The last time i saw my children they were 2 days old. My children were 23 years old this year and i sincerely hope and pray they are happy,but the heartache i felt back then has stayed with me all this time, and maybe more highlighted by the fact the i have never conceived again.
i have devoted my life to children in care since then and have worked with many children over the years before deciding to foster.
i hope my children are as loved and cared for as the children i now foster.

[momentousangel]

I'm truly touched by all of these memories. Need more tissues here for sure.

-------------------------------
Memories (this goes with my earlier post)
Memories-Left Side Layout Memories - Left Side
-------------------------------
Dearest Heaven-Leigh,
You always talk of wanting to keep the memories of
you as a child forever. As if you will forget what it is
like to be a child. As if you will forget those moments
in time, where everything seems simple to you. Each time
I hear you talk about yesterday, you seem to play it over
and over again, as if you must remember each of the tiny
details. I can not say how much like me you really are. You
seem to believe that so long as you can remmeber, those
memories will not fade. At one time in my life when I was
just a child myself, I, too, thought that to keep my own
memories I would have to remember even the tiniest of
the details. Then, as I grew, with each year that passed,
no matter how hard I've tried to remember, often, those
memories I fought hard to memorize eventually have had
a plan of their own and have slowly been fading in time.
I used to thing that once I forgot something, that it
would be gone from my memory forever. I didn't know it
then, but I was wrong. Memories are often lost, but
there are simple things in life that can help bring the
memories back again. Seeing these photo's of you as
you were playing and being so carefreeamidst the
backdrop of wild flowers, prompted me to remember when
as a child we lived in the country, where I would run and
laugh. Where I would sit amidst the fields of the simple
wildflowers, and play for hours on end. Seeing these
photo's When I look into your face, I see bits of me
there, and so long as there is a you, there will always be
a bit of me in you. I know you say you are afraid of me
getting old and forgetting things, but I can promise
you, that if there is even one thing I've learned in my
life, it is that never could anyone truly forget the love
of a child, never could I forget the images of me I see,
when I look at you. So write this down so you don't ever
forget it, I Love You!
With Love, Mommy

[Katzkidz1dog]

My heart goes to each one of you who has shared a memory. Thank you sharing these pieces of you-- for trusting us, as others have said, with your precious memories. {{{everyone}}}

[catsmeoux]

My important memory seems rather tame compared to some of these other stories I've been reading here. However, it was a big moment to me. When my oldest grandson was about 12 months old, he was sitting on my lap and we were reading a book. Someone in the room distracted me from the book until all of a sudden I heard my grandson saying "Gamma, Gamma". He wanted me to continue reading but it was the first time I realized that this special little boy knew who I was and had put a name to me. I had a place in his life. Nothing has been as special as that moment. With each grandchild now I watch for that point when they recognize me as their grandmother and someone special in their life. Thanks for letting me remember this again. I'll have to see if I can make a layout of how special grandchildren are. Lynda

[PJwaldrop]

I was relatively new to scrapbooking when the CKU Disney came to town. I was looking for work and watching pennies so I did not have the money to go. A friend of mine had gotten a position as a TA, but when I applied they told me they had everyone they needed. Friday evening I get this frantic call, several of the TAs that had volenteered did not show up. If I could meet her in the morning, she would take me to the desk for the TAs and get me in.

So bleery eyed, I showed up the next morning and was greeted most welcomely. I got two assignments, one working to Epson and one for Pine Cone Press. I got to the second assignment early (bag lunch) and was there as the Pine Cone Press staff were pulling together kits. I volenteered to help. I got to talk to them for over an hour before the next class. I got to meet Pam Lambie, who encoraged me to combine my art work and my scrapbooking. She was so supportive and the whole Pine Cone Press team were so great. Since then I have designed page kits for two on line stores, became a designer for a local scrapbook store, and I am the current scrapbook expert for the East Colonial Orlando Micheal's store and I have my art work on my own Ebay store.

The next time CKU came to Orlando, I got to go as a student. I met Pam and she was so wonderful when I told her how much her friendship and support had ment to me. I still would love to do more with my scrapbooking as a career, but it is great to have the friends and fellowship. Being an artist is often a very lonely and discouraging job. Scrapbooking is one of the few places I can find friendly souls that encorage and share their talents. Thanks to you ALL. ; )

[PJwaldrop]

I am a full time High School teacher. I do not always get to my email everyday. One day I got a email from Ro muttering she needed chocolate. I do not know what posessed me, I went to Hersey's web site and lifted a picture of a bucket of Herseys Kisses. In a reply email I sent the low calorie Chocolate "gift" with my best wishes. Now if you have looked at my posts, you will see I am new to this group and do not know anyone.

A few weeks later a schedule change gave me a night off that I could catch the chat room discussion on publishing scapbook pages. I was new to chat rooms. Never been in one but it is not hard once you take the plunge. Lo and behold Ro showed up towards the end of the class. Once I introduced myself as the chocolate bucket brigade, she let me know that it had made her day. Believe it or not, just hearing that I had given someone else a smile made me feel really great too.

I really appreciate the friends I have made through scrapbooking. The friendships are far better than riches or fame.

[scrappin_twin_mommy]

After a miscarriage I was excited to learn I was pregnant. The first 4 months were pretty normal. My belly seemed to be getting bigger than most people's at that stage but the doctor assured me that nothing was unusual.

My ultrasound changed the rest of my life.

I laid down on the table and pulled up my shirt. "Was the baby a boy or a girl?" was all I could think. The ultrasound technician smeared her incredibly cold jelly over my belly and started the procedure. John was sitting next to me holding my hand. From where I was laying I couldn't see the screen but he could. At first it was all going normally. The technician looked for the head and then she stopped. My heart sank. Something was wrong. She just stared at the screen for a moment before turning to look at me.

"Um, do twins run in your family?" she asked.

"Why?" was all I could get out.

"Because you're having twins!"

From that point on nothing was normal. I went to the doctor all the time. The girls were growing bigger and stronger with each day.

At 30 weeks I went into pre-term labor and was put on bedrest. I was so scared as I drove home from the doctor that day. Would my babies be alright? I had pictures of small sickly babies connected to machines running through my head. It wasn't time yet.

After 2 weeks of rest and medicine to stop the contractions there wasn't anything else to be done. I delivered 2 healthy baby girls. They spent 15 days in the NICU to learn how to eat and to grow a little stronger until they were able to come home. Two days before Christmas my baby girls came home with me.

Its been a little over 2 years now and my life will never be the same nor do I want it to. I can't imagine my life without one or both of them in it.

My Pregnancy

[momentousangel]

Being concerned that when I held Daniel up, he wouldn't make any attempts to push off with his feet, as most babies do at this age. I began to make phone calls in order to make the proper arrangements to have Daniel tested for Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. In my heart I already knew the answer, but I somehow felt a need to have the answer confirmed. On October 8th of 1998 we had an appointment set with Dr. Wendy Johnston at OHSU. There we would discuss our concerns, and figure out the next step to take. As we drove that long hours drive up to OHSU, we drove in silence. My mind raced frantically around, first noticing how the leaves were colored in so many colors, then on to the way there was a single leaf slowly drifting to the ground. My heart felt sad for that leaf, as I thought of how alone it must feel. Then I changed my gaze to my baby, sleeping soundly in his car seat. As I reached out my hand to touch his soft cheek, I was in total oblivion to the world around me. As I realized moments later that we had pulled into the parking lot of OHSU, a part of me didn't want to know any longer. A part of me wanted to scream and run the other way, while another part of me knew it was for Daniel that we were there. In hopes of finding the truth. As we entered into the lobby, I felt a calming sense come over me. Like this was the right choice. In my heart from the day Daniel was born I lived with feeling that I already knew the answer. I was there only to have the answer confirmed. As I checked in, then took a seat in the waiting area, I took Daniel out of his car seat and held him close to my heart. I whispered softly into his tiny ear that no matter the results he would always be my baby and I vowed that I would love him always, unconditionally. As I started humming to him softly and gazing into his eyes, that sweet smile on his face made me feel even more that I was doing the right thing. Moments later we were called and taken back to see Dr Johnston. After discussing with her that I already knew I was a carrier of Duchennes and that my oldest had Duchennes, we began discussing my concerns about Daniel. As I explained to her his calfs were enlarged and he would not push off with his feet, she
agreed that Daniel needed to be tested for Duchenne as well. She ordered a CK test and said if that didn't show any result that we would need to make arrangements for a muscle biopsy to be sure we had the correct results. She then directed us over to the lab where they would draw Daniel's blood for the test. As I held Daniel in my arms while the lab tech prepared to draw his blood, I took one glance at that tiny needle and when I saw that vial they would fill with his blood, I wanted to cry for Daniel. As the tech gently placed that needle in Daniel's foot, I was a bit shocked that he didn't pull away. He didn't whimper or make a peep. He just peered those baby blues into my face, and the look on his face was like he was telling me it was alright. After the lab tech got the amount they needed, we were directed back to Dr Johnston's waiting area, where she was waiting for us. She said it would take a little while for the results, and that we could go on home and she would call us when the results came back. We drove in silence that hour long ride once more. When we arrived home, the other children were quietly watching Barney on TV. We were told that Dr Johnston had called and wanted me to call her back as soon as we got in. As I hesitated to call her back, for fear of the results, I knew it was something that I had to do. Drawing in a deep breath as I dialed the number and placed the phone to my ear, I was greeted by the receptionist who immediately put Dr Johnston on the phone. Rather than having us drive all the way back to OHSU, she agreed to give us the results over the phone. As I prepared myself for the results of the CK test, my mind again raced as I looked across the room at Daniel. When she read the CK levels, my heart ached. Instantly I was in tears and dropped the phone. As I fumbled with the cord to get the receiver back into my hand once again, I finally muttered a thank you for comfirming what i thought was going on and hung up the phone. Not knowing what to say or think, I got up and went out the door in tears. Dealing with the reality of the results was very difficult for me. I didn't understand really why this would happen to my children not once, but twice. Hearing in a matter of hours that my baby the one I fought so hard to keep would be considered terminally ill. Dealing with the pain and the heartache I felt for the longest time once again, was the most difficult thing to do in my life. The next few months following that day were and still remain a blur, no matter how hard I try to remember them. While a coworker where my dh worked at the time knew of what was going on, he also knew that he wanted to help us through and did so much to bring me out of the dark and gloomy sorrow I felt. It was through his laughing and cheerfulness that he sat playing with Daniel one day, as I hid away in my room in tears because the baby next door was beginning to crawl. When he told me to come here fast, I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw Daniel scooting across the floor in a way I've never seen a baby do. Daniel sat up with his legs out in front of him, and using his arms, he was literally lifting the weight of his legs and scooting across the floor. Seeing Daniel doing this made me think and got me to realize that while I was busy with being depressed over the situation, my baby was busy using his own mind to figure out a way to move across the room. This memory has changed my life forever. From then on, I've become an active person in doing all that I can to help other families through the initial diagnosis. To me, this memory was difficult to share, but it is in reality one memory I share with others out of hope in helping them to realize that even though our children may have been diagnosed as terminally ill, they themselves can lead us on a path in life that can make a difference.
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Sorry this one is so long.

[katiekat]

My second memory share but this one is fun and in honor of mischief week. I grew up in a large family. There were 10 of us to be exact! My dad was military and we lived on the base in one of those really small military houses so three of us girls had to share a queen sized bed in the den. It was this huge ugly wooden bed that my parents had rescued from the garbage next to our house. They sanded it down it down and painted it red white and blue...and not a pretty deep blue. More like the bright electric blue. There were 2 years between each of us respectively. My moms hands were full with all of us kids and so we often had chances to make mischief. One night my two baby sisters and I decided it would be fun to jump on that queen size bed instead of going to bed like we were supposed to. We had a competition to see who could get the best height. Jumping on the bed just wasn't enough, we needed more height, we wanted to touch the ceiling. So we decided to jump from higher up. Being the oldest I climbed first onto the headboad and seated myself just right on the curve and jumped. It was pretty good. We were getting higher! We each took turns landing in different ways and giggling. It was like the elementary school version of the X games. But we still needed to reach the ceiling. So my sister and I sat up on the headboard together and jumped down. We got soooo close. Oooohhh we thought...if two of us jump to that height three of us would surely be able to jump high enough to reach that ceiling. We were laughing so hard as we all tried to cling to eachother and steady ourselves on that curve enough to jump. We kept slipping down. But finally with our arms wrapped around the other ones back and knees and legs locked against the bed we got ready to jump. ONE...TWO...THREE! The three of us landed on the mattress and the bed buckled. The mattress went crashing to the floor on that side. We were all laying sprawled out on the bed giggling feircely. But then we heard heavy footsteps raising back to our room and a "WHAT HAPPENED". The shock on my dads face will forever remain in my mind. He was horrified. I can imagine what it looked like with the mattress on a severe incline. and his daughters all laying on the bottom half laughing hysterically. As a parent now I think it would be hard not to laugh. He told us we would have to sleep on the inclined mattress as our punishment. Oh, my sisters and I had soo much trouble settling down. We were shimmying to the top on our bellies all night and trying to keep one hand clutched to the top before sliding down again. We hardly slept that night from fits of giggles and pillows falling down towards the bottom. We held onto eachothers hands that night trying to hold the others up. It was good to have sisters that night.

http://scrapgirls.com.ipbhost.com/index.ph...cmd=si&img=6168

[stinkerbelle]

I just posted in the "Meet and Greet" area. Here is my memory...

On Easter Sunday (April 11) 2004 my son Ryan was born. He was our first child. We knew at 19 weeks gestation that he was going to be born with Down syndrome and a congenital heart defect. He was a wonderful little boy, and was thriving at home. He had the most precious little giggle as well.

When he was 6 1/2 months old (Oct 27), he went to BC Children's Hospital to have open heart surgery. Things didn't go well, and he was put onto a life support system. When he was taken off that, Ryan survived! He had to go for a second ohs, and this time it seemed to work. 5 weeks after his surgery, we were able to hold him for the first time again. We also learned that he had sustained brain damage, most likely from the life support system. He had cortical blindness, his lungs weren't functioning well, his heart still wasn't working 100%, his kidneys weren't responding. We prayed and prayed and talked with family. We decided to take him off the ventilator, and once again put him into God's hands. Again, Ryan survived! After 5 1/2 weeks with a ventilator, he started making improvements. Time would tell how long he would live. He was put on palliative care, and we arranged to go to a children's hospice. He was transferred to the hospice on Dec 13, and we were looking forward to having some family time outside of a hospital setting, but still with health care.

On Dec 16, 2004 we took Ryan outside for a walk in the gardens at the hospice. He was well bundled, and we took some pictures of him with us. We weren't outside for too long, and when we went back inside and got off the elevator, we saw that he had stopped breathing. The doctor was nearby and immediately checked his heart. It was over, and our littlel son was taken by the angels to God's waiting arms. Our little boy was healed, and our hearts were broken. He was 8 months and 5 days old.

This memory has changed my life. I am a mom, but I'm not an "active participant" in it. I know now that life is precious, and to cherish it. I know to be patient with life situations- "in time". Now, over a year later, I have written a book (first draft) about our experiences and his life. Just waiting on hubby to proofread it before taking it to the next step of either printing for family and friends, or getting it published as a support for parents dealing with any of these: Down syndrome, congenital heart defects or death of a child. We have been trying to conceive, but it hasn't succeeded yet.

Okay, long post... but that's my lifechanging memory. I don't have a digital layout to share, but I did create a paper album of his hospital stay and everything involved with those 7 weeks in hospital/hospice. Our monkey man will forever be in our hearts.

Stinkerbelle.... "Karen"

[s_k_wilson1990]

Wow these are powerful stories. Thank you all for sharing.