You know what this means....

He got the job.

:)

Don't worry, I stole the pen we signed the contract with.

Lately the past few months, I've been trying harder to have the influence of the Spirit in my life.
I've tried to keep the house cleaner.
I've been praying and reading my scriptures everyday.
Having a kid or two had really gotten me out of the habit of doing those things, especially the prayer and scriptures part.


And wouldn't you know, it hasn't really solved all my problems.
My children are still cranky.
I still get stressed out.
My marriage isn't perfect.
But I wanted to record some of the things that have happened since making a true and honest effort to involve the Lord more in my day-to-day life.

I have been amazed at how much more I'm noticing when the Lord answers my prayers.
(Turns out that it's sort of hard for Him to answer prayers if you aren't praying, I guess!)

Recently I had been praying for more friends.  It's been hard moving around from place to place the past few years, and sometimes it takes awhile to really "fit in" to a new place with new people.  But wouldn't ya know, almost the exact day that I included that in my prayers, friends starting dropping out of the sky right and left, including me in playdates, inviting me over to watch TV-shows-that-I'm-too-embarrassed-to-admit-I-watch, etc.  I felt so blessed.

A few months ago, BK and I started looking around Dallas for different cities we would like to live in.  We looked many places, but none of them really seemed to match up to the first place we looked. The second we pulled into the subdivision BK and I both fell in love with the area.  Upon further investigation, we were heartbroken to find out there were only two lots left.  With BK not graduating until May, we thought surely we had missed the boat.

But all of the sudden, things sort of started working out.
Job interviews started coming in out of nowhere.
Job interviews with job offers months before the start-date.

And so we looked back into the whole building-a-house-thing in the area we loved.

And wouldn't ya know, it just might work out after all.

This weekend we put money down on this here lot:

(Beautiful isn't it?  Hmmm....I promise it will look better when we're done!)

And so, for now, it is ours.

There are still several things that have to fall into place for this dream to actually become a reality--so I'm not quite ready to reveal the colors I chose for my granite countertops and kitchen cabinets.  It could still fall through--as anyone who has been through the loan approval process knows.

I don't consider the house an answer to my prayers (yet). I consider the ability to have the Spirit's influence in my life the answer to my prayers.  I can tell it's there.

Just today I sat down to crunch some numbers to see if we can really make this work.  I felt specific promptings "Amy, you know, maybe if you make a table showing this information, you'll be able to understand it better."  or "Do you see how much easier this can be if you pay off the car a few months early?"


When I couldn't find where my two-year-old had relocated my scriptures today, I was prompted to read an article in the Ensign.  It directly corresponded to the problem I was trying to find a solution for, and I was blown away with how specific the advice was to our situation.  It made me feel that the Lord approved of the solution I had been thinking about.

I'm a smart girl, but I have absolutely no experience in these sorts of financial matters.  I knew that the Lord was helping me to understand how we could make this work (and if I'm lucky it actually will...)

I was reminded of another time I specifically felt the Lord's guidance in financial matters.  When BK was in Iraq, he made quite a bit of money (in comparison to our part-time college salaries anyway!).  And I was left solely in charge of it.  I knew the money was a blessing, and I sought out the Lord's guidance to know how best to use it.

Again, using a language I understand (namely math and charts and tables), He led me to see how by paying a car off a little bit early and by saving x amount of dollars a month here and there, how we could actually have some money saved by the end of our undergraduate time at BYU.  And you know what?  It actually worked.  We used that money to pay for part of BK's tuition for physical therapy school and our babies and other big things.  But there's no way my 21-year-old self could've had that kind of foresight with little-to-no-experience in financial planning.

Like I said, I understand math.  I get it.  But handling money just makes me nervous. So I have greatly appreciated the times the Lord has stepped in to show other solutions to problems and other ways to reach our goals.

My children will still be cranky.
I will still get stressed out.
My marriage will never be perfect.

But as long as I'm trying to have the Spirit in my life, it will all be okay, and I'll know what to do in any situation that comes up.

And that, my friends, is what I learned today.

The First Time Landon Broke Something of Worth

I guess I should consider myself lucky that it has taken my child almost three years to break something I actually care about.

I mean, usually, it's like, "It's okay, Landon. We'll get another Ensign next month."

Or


"It's okay. I can reload all my apps on the ipod another time..."

But yesterday that little weasel scurried himself up to the top of our entertainment center, snagged my Kindle, and attempted to pry it off my $65 blue leather cover (with attached reading light!) that I got from BK for Christmas. The lovely little gold prong snapped off, and so now the reading light doesn't work.

I. Was. Ticked.

He eventually apologized, but I found myself still mad because--guess what--the apology DIDNT FIX THE KINDLE COVER.

Yesterday had been a rough day even before this whole episode, and it was sort of the last straw.

I put both of my children to bed at 6:20.  They were both crying.
But actually this is where the whole thing gets a bit comical.

I overheard Landon crying to Spencer:
"Spencerrrrrrrrrrr.  I'm SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD.  Spencer, where's DADDDDYYYYYYY?"

(Landon, let me tell you something.  If you broke something of "DADDDDYYYYY"'s he would be a WHOLE lot more upset about it than I was.  Just for the record.)

Then Landon breaks out of his room and comes to tell me that he has an oww-ee on his foot.
I see nothing on his foot and tell him to go get back in his bed.

"But I want to read SCRIPTURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRES!!!"

Well what sort of a parent is going to turn that down?  At least not in good conscience anyway.

"Fine. Sit down on the couch."

We proceed to read a scripture story, and then I told him to go get back in bed.

"But what about a PRAYERRRRRRRRRRRRR!!"

I told him it was his turn because I really didn't feel like praying.
He said the prayer, and during it, I decided that I was feeling better about my Kindle cover and that I could nicely talk to Landon about rules.

Me: "Landon, do you know what a rule is?"
L: "Yeah, like follow the rules."
Me: "Exactly."
L: "And eat a roll for dinner."
Me: "No, that's a roll.  I'm talking about a rule."
L: (looks at me like I'm an idiot, since it sounds like the exact same word.)
Me: (explains what a rule is) (gives examples) First of all, no more climbing inside.  Climbing is for the park.  If you climb on the entertainment center, you could fall and break your arm.
L: Here is mine arm. It's mine radius.  I could break my radius.
Me: Yes, that's your radius.
L: Here is mine femur, and mine patella.  And mine tibia.  Could break.
Me: Yep, they'll all break.  Don't climb on my entertainment center.
(BK likes to have bone discussions with Landon, can you tell?)

This morning when Landon woke up, BK got up with him.  The first words out of his mouth?

"Dadda!! I'm can follow the rolls!!!"

And then when I got up:

"Momma!!  I'm didn't break your book today!!"

So, he's totally got obedience down now.

Right?

:)

Dear BK

There are lots of reasons I like you.

And there are lots of reasons why we are good together.

But today I was thinking of a reason I never thought of before.

Namely, that I'm really glad that we have the exact opposite tastes in granola bar flavors.

Because in our Great Value Brand granola bar variety pack, I really don't like the s'more ones.

But you do.

And so everytime I open up the box and find it filled with the peanut butter chip ones that you so luckily despise, it just makes my heart happy.

And I know you feel the same about the s'more ones.

So it just works out.  You and me.  And our granola bars.

Happy Valentines Day!

Love you,
AmyLynne

Birth Stories

My husband BK and I found out we were expecting our second child in August 2009. This came as quite a surprise to us, as it took us nearly 4 ½ years to get pregnant with our first son, Landon. This pregnancy came after trying for about 2 months. Go figure....But we were thrilled.


And even more thrilled when we found out Landon was going to have a baby brother.
Two boys. 23 months apart. Heaven help us.

My labor with my first son Landon was long. I went 8 days after my due date, so I made the decision to be induced. I wasn’t dilated or effaced at all at my 41 week appointment and I was done. So SO done. We set a date to be induced at 41+1 day. The day before that, I went in for a prostin gel placement—twice. And then that night my water broke and I headed to the hospital. I was put on pitocin, which basically made me want to die. An epidural brought sweet relief, (until the nurse turned it off when his head crowned and it wore off before the doctor FINALLY arrived…) and Landon was born vaginally after sitting in a hospital bed for 12 hours. He was 9 pounds 3 oz, 19 inches long. I pushed him out in 3 pushes. I know, right?!? I am AWESOME at pushing out babies…



Here's me a few hours before I had Landon. I can't believe I even let my mother take this picture. And I wish that bag of McDonald's food was mine, but alas, it was my husbands.  No food for me...

Here's me a few hours after I had Landon. MUCH HAPPIER. Thank you, Wendy's! You're much better than McDonald's could ever hope to be anyway!

Here’s me with Landon: Awwww….

And for anyone who really has nothing better to do today:

Here's part of a video I made for Landon--but mainly just focus on the clip of me at 1:11 restraining myself from flipping off my husband (since I had specifically requested that he NOT video-tape me before I had the baby... UGH!).  And also, please ignore my annoying laugh.  Sorry in advance about it.








Blah, blah, blah... Landon, Landon, Landon...



So fast forward to my second pregnancy. The one you actually came to read about.

About 6 1/2 months along

I was worried about having another big baby, but I was absolutely against going over my due date again. It was horrible, but at the same time, I didn’t want to sit in a hospital bed for 12 hours. I knew I couldn’t take the contractions on pitocin.  To be honest, mainly I was just DONE being sick and huge and pregnant.  I began to look at my options for being induced.



My doctor told me about a method called the Foley Ball or Foley Catheter.



Basically, they insert a catheter with a deflated balloon on the end of it into your cervix and then pump the balloon full of water. It’s actually the same type of catheter they insert into your urinary tract during labor if you have an epidural, but in this case they insert it in your cervix. The increased pressure it creates simulates the natural pressure from the baby's head, thus resulting in your body producing more prostinglandins. (Prostinglandins are the chemicals responsible for the dilation and effacement of the cervix.) This technique is supposedly a more gentle way than the synthetic prostinglandin gel for giving your body a push in the right direction. Plus, rather than lay in a hospital bed for "an hour" (which from personal experience with the gel procedure--it's never just an hour) the day before you give birth, the doctor can insert this Foley Ball during your regular appointment and send you home.



And because I just KNOW you want to see what this thing looks like:



I decided to try it, and we set a date to be induced—April 22. At 39 weeks. Heavenly.



So on Wednesday, April 21st, I had my final doctor's appointment. I was not dilated or effaced at all. (However, this was not surprising to me, as even at 41 weeks I was not dilated or effaced at all with Landon.) Luckily, despite my "posterior cervix," the doctor was able to insert the Foley Ball. It was a bit uncomfortable to have it placed (much like a pelvic exam), but afterward I didn't really notice it was there, except for the smokin’ hot yellow tube I had hanging out—which they politely taped to the side of my thigh. Just so you know, the thing leaks blood—so I wisely wore pants that I didn’t care a lick about and wrapped the end of the catheter up in a piece of toilet paper. Yuck, yuck, double-yuck.



The plan was that I would report to the hospital at 5AM. My doctor was hoping the Foley Ball would help me dilate to at least a 3 or 4 “on my own.” Then they would hook me up to pitocin and get things really rolling. I was planning on getting an epidural again anyway, so I was fine with this plan. Best case, the Foley Ball would actually put me into labor. If it happened to fall out, it meant I was dilating and that would be a good sign. And I had a few contractions throughout the day, but definitely nothing to write home about.



BK came home from school around noon, and we spent the day cleaning the house and packing our bags. And by "we" I obviously mean BK. Yes, somehow I managed to procrastinate packing for the hospital until the DAY BEFORE. I kept waiting for some sort of nesting instinct to kick it, but it never did—so I finally forced myself to clean and pack the DAY BEFORE. Oh well.



We decided to take Landon to Fuddrucker's for his Last Supper As An Only Child, and Heaven knows I was going to need the carbs and iron. We came home, bathed Landon, and put him to bed. It still hadn't really hit me that in 12 hours or so I would be heading to the hospital to have a baby. My parents showed up around 9:15pm, and we visited for awhile and then went to bed. I decided a warm shower was definitely in order, so I showered and did my hair and laid down in bed to find an episode of something mindless to watch. I checked the clock on my cell phone--12:15am.



Excellent. If I fall asleep now, I can get four good hours in before we have to leave.



And that's when the contractions started.



At that moment I was watching an episode of Seinfeld. I glanced at my cell-phone clock with each contraction, noting that they were about 5-7 minutes apart and lasted about 30 seconds. No big deal.



However, as the Seinfeld episode progressed, my overall ability to concentrate and/or breathe normally started to blur with each contraction. They were still 5 minutes apart, but I could tell the pain was increasing. I put on my ipod in an attempt to block out the pain with loud music and possibly rest for the next four hours before heading to the hospital at 5.



There would be no such luck with sleeping.



While the first song I listened to happened to be “Run” by Collective Soul, my main songs of choice while I labored at home were from the Glee Soundtrack.



Because, let's be honest:



What song could be more motivating to make it through labor than Mr. Schu singing "Gold Digger?"

What song could describe my thoughts more at the time than Finn singing "I can't fight this feeling anymore?"

What song could be more distractingly awesome than Mr. Schu and Kristin Chenoweth singing "Alone?"

And don't even get me started on "Don't stop believing."



I resigned myself to the fact that I would get no sleep, so I decided to go ahead and get on my computer to distract myself.  I also decided it would be smart to at least monitor my contractions on contractionmaster.com. I chatted with various people online and read blogs. I wrote a blog-letter to my son Landon. I googled birth stories. Just ANYTHING to pass the time. I could tell things were definitely progressing though. My contractions were 4-5 minutes apart and lasted about a minute. It was about 1:30am at this point. Another half-hour passed. 3-4 minutes apart. Another half-hour passed. 2-3 minutes apart. I tried moving in different positions to ease the pain during the contractions. I stood, I sat, I laid down. I tried to breathe slowly.



I went to the bathroom, and I decided to check the Foley Ball. It seemed like it was hanging lower. As I investigated the situation (interpret that how you will) I realized the baby had dropped… substantially. My cervix definitely felt… different. Low, thin, and just… different. Not that I really had anything to compare it to in my own experience, but I just knew something was up. I decided to give the Foley Ball a tug. It came flying out. Yes, flying. And just because I know that if you’re reading this, you would want to know: the mucus plug was attached to it when I pulled it out, along with a ton of blood and other disgustingness. I considered waking up my husband to show him, you know, just to make him feel… included. But I decided he probably wouldn’t really appreciate it or ever look at me the same again, so I just threw it away.



 I decided to see how the Foley Ball’s exit would affect my contractions, and I wondered if it was the only reason I was even having contractions. My absolute nightmare was to show up hours early at the hospital, only to be told I was only dilated at a 3. I would rather be in discomfort at my own house for as long as I could bear it. I decided that if the contractions were still going strong at 3am that I would wake up BK and head to the hospital.



The contractions continued. 2-3 minutes apart. One minute of pain. At 2:45am I suddenly had a very loud thought in my head: Amy, head to the hospital.



I was 25 seconds into the song “Since you’ve been gone” by Kelly Clarkson. (according to my ipod when I turned it on several days later)- Apparently if your contractions are bad enough that listening to that song on full-blast won't drown them out, you must really in labor--according to my experience anyway.



I woke BK up and we grabbed our bags and headed to the car.  Our hospital was right across the street from our apartment complex, so it took a total of about 45 seconds to get there.



We walked into Labor and Delivery and I told them I was supposed to show up at 5am, but that I had been having contractions for three hours. They were really nice about admitting me early and we even got the biggest room on the floor! The nurse gouged me pretty bad putting the IV in. I think I might've lost more blood in that experience than the actual delivery. But soon fluid was pumping into my arm, and the nurse began filling out my medical history. At first I was just a bit uncomfortable with the pain, but soon I became engulfed in it. Simple questions like, "Do you have diabetes?" suddenly became impossible to answer. My contractions were about 2 minutes apart. The nurse decided to (FINALLY) check to see how far dilated I was.



At this point I was fully-prepared to be told I was at a 3. The pain I was feeling was about at the same level I felt when I asked for an epidural during Landon's delivery--which was at a 3, almost 4--about 12 hours before I pushed him out. (I attribute that now to the pitocin I had with Landon's delivery.) She poked and prodded, and I thought--If she's having to try this hard to find my cervix, I really must not be that far along.



"Umm. I'm going to get another [read: more experienced] nurse to check you. Your bag of waters is bulging, and it's making it hard to measure it correctly."



And suddenly she seemed to be in a real hurry, paging this other nurse.



"So I'm not that far dilated then?" I asked, bracing myself for news involving little to no progress.



Her answer completely shocked me:



"I think you might be at an 8 or a 9."



At this point I sort of started panicking. I wasn’t prepared to give birth without an epidural. I hadn’t read any books or practiced breathing or anything else really. (A problem I plan on fixing the next time around—you just can’t really rely on epidurals… you gotta have a plan B!) But I kept telling myself that if I had progressed this fast already, that even though I might've missed the boat on getting an epidural, I might be able to do without. Generally speaking, if you’ve progressed past a 7 or 8, you’ve missed your window of opportunity on an epidural, since they want you to have it before you hit transition labor.



The more experienced nurse came in and immediately deduced that I was not at an 8, but rather a 6.



(insert sigh of relief here)



Thank goodness!



At this point it was about 4:15am and I hadn't slept all night. If they could hurry and get me an epidural before I progressed any further, I would be able to catch a couple of hours of sleep to gain some needed energy for the delivery.



Once I filled out the paperwork for the epidural, it seemed as though it took the nurse anesthetist at least 8 hours to get there. However, when I looked back on the timeline of the whole thing, it turns out it was only 15 minutes- but the pain was excruciating.



Finally the Nurse Anesthetist arrived. She had me sit up and lay across a birthing ball in order to round my back out properly. (When I got my epidural with Landon I was so far gone I couldn't move, and they had to put it in with me laying down.) The added pressure on my cervix from sitting instead of laying added even more misery to my situation. I was quite certain this baby was going to fall out at any moment. I tried to breathe slowly as SHE TOOK HER SWEET TIME putting it in, but I wasn’t very good at breathing slowly, so I started hyperventilating and my fingers went numb. As soon as it was in, I felt immediate relief and I could breathe. And then I could feel my fingers again.. The epidural did make my blood pressure drop, but when they had me switch positions, it fixed the problem.



About half an hour later (around 5am), they checked me, and I was at a 7. I decided to try to get some rest. (BK had no problem whatsoever falling asleep on the couch at this point. But that shouldn't really surprise anyone who knows him. Hence the lack of pictures of me in the hospital…) Around 6am I was almost at an 8.



The doctor came in around 8am to check me. He decided I was at an 8 and broke my water. Basically they insert a crochet hook into your cervix and pop the bag. It doesn’t hurt at all, there’s just a HUGE gush of warm fluid. He said he wanted them to check me again in half hour and if the contractions weren't closer together to put me on pitocin. I probably would’ve argued with him about this, since I was obviously progressing. Landon didn’t react well when I was on pitocin the first time. His heart rate dropped, —but it was necessary with Landon since I wasn’t really having huge contractions on my own. I wanted to avoid putting stress on this new baby if it wasn’t necessary, so I was a little nervous about having to tell them I didn’t want the pitocin. I forgot to discuss this with my doctor previously. Oops.



The nurse checked me around 8:45am, and I was fully dilated. Pitocin wouldn't be necessary. Yay! They paged the doctor. Time to push!



The nurse had me give a push to see if the baby was going to move at all. She had me stop mid-push, as he was moving quite fast, and we were waiting for the doctor. Soon the room filled with nurses waiting to help. At 9:15am the doctor said he was on his way and to go ahead and start pushing. I pushed 3 or 4 times, and Spencer's head crowned right as the doctor walked in. He scrubbed up just in time to catch the baby--at 9:20am. (Like I mentioned before—I may suck sometimes at GETTING pregnant, but I am an AWESOME pusher.)



Spencer immediately gave us a good cry. They plopped him onto my stomach while they checked his heartbeat. This was new to me, as Landon was born blue, and so they had to rush him off to get him to breathe. I really enjoyed getting to see Spencer RIGHT as he was born. I hadn’t previously known just how slimy and bloody a newborn really is. But I also hadn’t previously known that I wouldn’t care at all and that I would think he was still the most precious creature in existence.

My first thought: He's so small!

My second thought: He looks just like Landon.



Spencer was surprisingly spunky. He came out with his eyes wide open and screamed quite loudly while he was being examined. BK tells me he tried to roll away every time the nurse touched him. They weighed and measured him.



7 pounds, 5 ounces. 19 inches.

They brought him to me. He couldn't have been more perfect. And to make things even more perfect, he latched right on to nurse. The nurse left us alone for a little while. I felt great.

Speaking of feeling great, can I just say that I know now with a certainty that my epidural with Landon had almost totally worn off when I pushed him out?? (The nurse turned it off when his head crowned, thinking she was making my recovery easier, but when they couldn't find the doctor, by the time they did, it had started to wear off...) My epidural this time was perfect. I felt pressure, and I could tell when I was pushing. I could move my legs and even put my body weight on them to move around, but I felt little to no pain. BK was shocked as to what a jovial mood I was in while pushing Spencer out, as compared to the hyper-ventilating mess who pushed Landon out.



I felt so blessed that my induction went so well, as sometimes they can be nightmares. My labor was quick and relatively painless and everything else I could’ve asked for.  I definitely recommend a Foley Ball-induced labor as opposed to a prostin gel/pitocin-induced labor.  So much quicker, so much less of a shock to my body--at least in my experience.  Another plus?  It's cheaper.  The doctor can do it at your regularly-scheduled appointment.  When you get induced with gel, in most cases you have to go to the hospital the day before actually getting induced to have it placed--which equals a lot more medical bills.  And who wants more medical bills? NOT ME.



I delivered the placenta quickly. The doctor stitched up my first and second-degree tears. I had torn in the same places I had with Landon—nothing major though. In fact, the doctor said I didn’t actually even need the stitches, but I asked him to anyway.



I recovered very quickly, and we left about 24 hours later.

And Spencer is an awesome baby, and has fit into our family just perfectly.

Here’s to hoping for a girl next time…

A Story for the Grandkids--Part XIV

"We're coming home. Expect me sometime in the middle of June."



I was so excited. He would be home in less than a month. Which meant I had to get crackin' on cleaning my apartment, buying a new outfit, getting a hott haircut, etc...


The next couple of weeks seemed to take forever, of course, but partly that was a good thing because I really did have a lot of cleaning to do. I wanted everything to be perfect. And as Janelle mentioned once in a comment, I did keep ALL the flowers BK ordered for me from Iraq, and part of the the cleaning was throwing them all away--a ceremony, if you will. But I did take a picture to document the occasion.

P.S. Leslie, I found this lovely picture of your Joe when I was going through our pictures... just had to share... hahaha...

Anyway.

Eventually, they were able to fly safely out of Ramadi to Kuwait. Then the military did another really annoying thing which was to have them go back to Camp Shelby, MS for a few days until EVERYONE got there. It was actually kind of nice to ease into the situation--talking on our cell phones all the time (when I wasn't student teaching... grrrrrr....).

Then the day came. The day when they left hurricane-ridden Camp Shelby forever. They would stop in Cedar City, UT first to drop off most of the soldiers, and then fly the rest of them to Salt Lake. He called me from Cedar and said it was pretty much the most depressing(/happy) thing to watch all of his friend reuniting with their wives and families, while he watched through his airplane window. But he said that they would be leaving any minute (they were, for once, running WAY ahead of schedule) and that it was only a 45 minute flight.

WHAT.

Why am I always so unprepared for these important airport ventures! I quickly showered, got dressed in my pre-planned outfit, jumped in the car, and drove up the freeway to the Salt Lake Airport to get my husband once and for all. The very thing I had been waiting 18 LONG months for.

I beat the plane again by MAYBE 3 minutes. Now I'm going to let you re-live this moment with me. Here comes the plane:

Then the door opens.

And here he is 5th person from the bottom:

And here he is off the plane (not the huge guy with the moustache, look to the right!) and looking dang hott in his uniform, if I do say so myself:


Of course at this point, no security guard in their right mind could restrain me. I'm not kidding about that. I actually busted past one of them and pretty much tackled him on the tarmac. It's too bad I don't have a picture of THAT, right? This next one will have to do.
Yes, you're right. That is pretty much the happiest two people in a picture you will ever see. And you know you like the lipstick on BK's lips. He doesn't look like he minds too much... And can I just say--since he had nothing better to do in Iraq, he went to the gym--every day--and he was BUFFFFFFFF when he got home! Okay, I'll stop. I was just trying to help you re-live the moment.


Anyway.


I took him home with me that day--and he got 6 weeks of paid leave. So we hung out. For 6 weeks. No work. No school. Just me and him. Finally.


I was the happiest girl alive. And you know what--I still am. If you can't tell--I really love my husband. He has always been exactly what I needed. When I was 17, I needed him to sweep me off my feet in a dramatic whirlwind romance. And boy was it dramatic! (Well, you already know that. We're practically best friends now that you know the entire saga, right?) And since then, he has been exactly the husband I've needed--calm, patient, loving, and full of faith. He has never ceased to be my best friend, no matter if we lived together or across the world from each other. It didn't matter.


One time when he was in Iraq, I was sitting in class, having kind of a down day. All of the sudden the Spirit spoke to me so strong: "BK loves you." And it wasn't just a sentence. I could just feel it. It was like for a split second I just "got" it. I knew exactly how he felt about me and that he always would. I told BK of my experience when I talked to him on the phone that night, and he teared up and said, "You know what, AmyLynne, I know you've been having a really hard time lately, and I've been praying more than ever that you would be able to just know that I love you, and that you would be able to feel loved, even though I couldn't be there. This was a direct answer to my prayers."


What a guy.


I can tell you I probably could've written 80 more posts just on how the Lord took care of me while BK was gone. You got the watered down version. It truly is amazing what He can do when we put our faith in Him. At a time when I should have felt completely alone, I never was. Heavenly Father always sent me good friends and experiences to help me out along the way. And most importantly, He brought my sweetheart home safe and sound.


And since then we haven't spent much time apart. Except for an occasional scout camp-out... well, and then there was that one time he abandoned me with a 10-day-old baby to move to Texas to start school without me... and you know, I do go see my mom and dad occasionally without him... but besides that. Not much time apart. And you know, I hope it always stays that way. I miss him too much when he's gone.


BK served in the National Guard for one more year after his deployment. He got out last February with nine years of honorable service for his country. Three months later we were blessed with the birth of our son Landon. And currently, BK is working on getting his DPT (doctor of physical therapy) degree at Texas Tech University--just like he's always wanted to.


And we lived happily ever after.


Happy Valentine's Day, BK. I love you with all my heart.

A Story for the Grandkids--Part XIII

"I'm going to Iraq. For real this time." He said. "For 18 months. 6 months in the states to train, and 12 months overseas. I'm leaving in January."


Worst news ever.

But at least they gave us two months' notice this time instead of 4 days. The holidays that year were bittersweet, as we knew that it would be a long time before we got to share another one together. It was a really rough time emotionally for us both. We went back and forth from wanting to cherish every waking moment with each other to just wanting him to leave so that we could get it over with. It was extremely hard for me when I went back to school in January to have to leave him at home, when I wondered if it would be the last few weeks we ever got to spend together.

Finally the weekend came to drive BK down to St. George and drop him off. He said goodbye to family down there and the next morning I dropped him off at the armory. Next stop for him--Camp Shelby, Mississippi.

Many people have asked me over the past few years what it's like to live without your husband. It's horrible. I'm going to attempt to give you a good feel for what it's like in this post.

In my journal on January 24, 2005, I wrote:

"My worst nightmare has come true--again. BK left this morning for National Guard duty. Right now he's in Mississippi, then he'll go to CA, then to Iraq for a year. I can't do this again. I feel just sick. I don't do well by myself. It's worse just being here in our apartment all by myself. I keep expecting him to walk through the door and come cuddle with me on the couch. What is the Lord trying to teach me in all this? Why do these things always happen to me? Why can't my marriage just be normal for once? Didn't I prove myself the first time? And now he'll be gone for 3 times longer. I'm behind in school, I'm depressed, and I'm lonely. For such an independent person, I really am a baby."

February 1, 2005:

"Well, I got through the first week. I miss him so much. I don't feel like myself really. It's like a part of me is missing."

I actually got lucky enough to see BK once a month while he was gone. Once again, professors were totally nice about letting me miss classes, tests, class presentations, etc in order to accommodate my unique situation. I went down for a weekend in February, and BK was able to spend a couple hours a day with me. I went down for our anniversary in March, and they let him spend one night with me.

An email from BK, March 28, 2005:

"I am sorry that I didn't get to talk to you on Easter. My phone charger was really frustrating me. I was really sad not being able to talk to you much the last couple of days. I really mean that. You always make me smile when I talk to you. I think deploying being married is harder than being single in a lot of ways, but in others it makes it easier. Knowing that you are thinking about me and praying for me makes this a lot easier to deal with. I have a lot of comfort knowing that when this over I have someone permanent to come back to. Really I think it would be hard being here single. You give me so much that I can't offer myself. I know that we have definitely had a tougher path to follow than most couples, but I know that it will definitely help us appreciate each other more. Sometimes its hard to see how other people's lives appear easier with less challenges. I wish I knew why we have things so hard. Many have had it tougher than us. The good thing is though, after this things will be better. We will still have challenges and trials but at least we can deal with them together.... Anyways, I love you tons and I can't wait to see you in few weeks."

In April they actually had a Wives's Weekend in which they gave the guys a lot of time off and wives could fly in. Unfortunately I couldn't stay for very long because it was, of course, during finals week. But BK ended up not having to go to CA because they needed someone to stay behind, so guess who got to go live in a hotel with their husband in May for two weeks in Mississippi? Me!

Then BK got ten days off to come visit me. We went to Padre Island in Texas. We went the USA-Costa Rica soccer match.

We tried to spend every moment possible with each other. But then the dreaded day came when I would have to have the worst airport drop-off of all--the last one before he flew to Iraq. We had no idea what the phone or email situation was going to be. We had no idea when or if he would be able to come home for two weeks during that year. It was a very scary thing.

Before we left for the airport, BK gave me a blessing. It was one of the most heart-wrenching experiences in my life. I mean, think about it. If you're BK, what in the world do you say? You're about to leave your wife ALL alone for an entire year and possibly might never come back. In this blessing, BK blessed me that every need I had would be taken care of. He blessed me to know that he would return home safely. And lots of other things that are too special to put here. And here enters another one of the five times I have ever seen BK cry. He was sobbing during this. My shoulders were completely drenched from his tears. He hugged me before we walked out the door and said, "I don't want to go. I can't just leave you here."

We drove to the airport and checked his bags. I kissed him goodbye, not knowing when the next time I would get to do so again would be. I watched him walk all the way through security, as he became smaller and smaller, then as he went up the escalator, then he turned the corner.

And then he was gone.

My heart dropped in my chest. I couldn't see him anymore. He was gone. I was proud of myself for making it to the car before having a complete meltdown.

June 23, 2005:

"Today was the first full day of no communication with BK. :( I have no idea where he is--either in Ireland or Kuwait... so that narrows it down! I hope I get to hear from him soon. I miss him so much! I can't wait till he comes home and we can finish school and get going with our life together."

And although I have told this next story a thousand times, I'm telling it again. So deal with it. A few days later, I was feeling particularly sorry for myself because I hate washing dishes. Yes, that is truly the reason why. BK's job is to wash dishes, and they had started piling up because he wasn't there to do them. This of course sparked a dramatic emotional meltdown on my part. How in the world was I supposed to survive for a whole year without being able to call BK? A whole year! My sobbing was interrupted by a knock at my door--a group of single students from across the street were doing a Home Evening Activity.

"Hi. We're doing a service scavenger hunt, and we've just got two things left. Is it possible that we could wash some dishes for you?"

The Lord had answered a small prayer and let me know that He would watch over me while BK was gone. And they even ended up vacuuming, too!

Then one day he called. It was so great hear his voice. He was in Kuwait. And thus our relationship as marital pen-pals began.

Barracks in Iraq where BK lived for a year

An email from BK July 2005:

"Hi baby, I just got off the phone with you. It sounds like you were having fun at Outback. It was good to get your email. I am glad that you read your patriarchal blessing and watched the wedding video. I know that you probably won't believe this but each day I am trying to put a little time into our marriage. Whether I email you, write you a letter, talk to you on the phone, look at wedding pics on the computer, I am trying to make some time thinking about us. I know that you probably don't believe me saying that, but I really am. I should have been putting more time into that category a long time ago. You have always been a lot better about making time for us. I have noticed a difference though since I've been doing this. It helps me to remind me about the covenants we've made, and about how much we love each other. It's kind of sad, but I think without doing those things I've been doing, I can really see how spouses could grow apart from one another. This helps me to grow closer to you. Not that I think I am going to forget about you during this year or anything, but it keeps me more focused on our marriage and it helps me try to consider your needs a little better. I am sorry you are having a hard time baby. I am having a hard time too even though it's not always evident. I just feel like I need to be home with you taking care of you and progressing in life with you. I kind of feel like I am at a standstill with you and everything else. We haven't had any time since we've been married to just be together me and you and not having to worry about homework, tests, etc. I know last summer we didn't have school but we had opposite work shifts and then being at my parents house didn't really give us a lot of alone time. It's ok that you are having a hard time. This isn't supposed to be an easy thing. I guess we can just take this thing a day at a time. Well baby, I should probably get going now. I hope that you sleep well tonight. Please just try to get some sleep for me. Maybe you should take a bath or something before you sleep. Maybe that will help. I took a bath at my motel room in Ireland just for you, cause you told me to take one. Anyways, I love you tons and I can't wait to see you again. Keep being a good girl like you always are and I'll talk/email you soon. I love you."

A few weeks later they flew to Iraq. Their plane was shot at on the way in, and the pilot had to nosedive to miss the incoming fire. Welcome to Iraq.

We were extremely fortunate to find out that the communication situation wasn't as bad as we had expected. I got to talk to him on the phone almost everyday, except the days they were on lockdown. When there was a casualty, they cut off communication until they contacted the family members involved. Those were always scary days. Sometimes when we talked on the phone, I could hear artillery in the background. Sometimes I could hear the warning sirens, and BK would have to get off and go jump in a trench for cover. It was terrifying.

He was in a completely different world than I was. Ramadi, Iraq was one of the most dangerous places in the whole country of Iraq--and there I was in Provo, Utah of all places going to BYU. (Speaking of, you KNOW you saw my article in the Daily Universe that year--Front Page...OH YEAH!)

Eventually we found out that BK would be able to come home for two whole weeks in November. We didn't know the exact dates--as it does take a good two weeks to even get out of Iraq--so I just had to be flexible and be able to get him at a moment's notice. And that's about all I got.

I knew he was in Kuwait waiting for a flight out, but one day on my way to class, I got a quick phonecall from BK saying that he was in Dallas, TX and was getting on a plane RIGHT then to come to Utah. He would be there in 2 hours.
I hadn't even showered. I ran to my class to explain my situation to my teacher, who was of course, understanding. I ran home, showered, got dressed, jumped in my car and beat his plane by maybe 5 minutes. Soon he was coming down that escalator and walking into the baggage claim with his army backpack on. I ran up to him and leaped into his arms. We had people who didn't even know us crying.
The first night he was home (Wait a second. Get your head out of the gutter. Did you really think I was going there? Anyway.) his time zones were all messed up. He wanted to go to bed at like 4 in the afternoon, so I went and laid with him. BK is generally a very sound sleeper and doesn't move around much. But after being in a warzone for 5 months, it was different. He slept so restlessly--twitching and every sound, sweating, tossing and turning. I just held him and cried. My poor baby.
We had a wonderful two weeks visiting family and friends. BK even got to come to class with me a few times.
And because it was requested, here is a story for you. One night when he was home on his leave, we were up all night playing videogames. I made a horrible bet that if he could beat my score on this one game that I would go outside naked. THAT'S how confident I was, people. On his last try, he beat the score and I instantly tried to run away, but he chased me down.
"Take it off and get out there. I'll even be nice and let you wear a bath robe, but you have to flash the neighborhood."
I went outside, and luckily it was like 3 in the morning, otherwise the single guys next door sure would've gotten an eyeful! Then BK of course had to be funny and lock the door and not let me in.
Anyway.
Then came yet another tragic airport scene must like the last one. I wouldn't see him again until June or July. I got to go to the gate with him (They let you do that when you're dropping off a soldier!)--I kissed him goodbye, and it was bittersweet. It would be the last airport goodbye scene we would ever have to have. I got back in my car and drove to my grandparents' house in Salt Lake City for the weekend so I didn't have to be in my apartment alone.
The holidays came and went. It was great to be with family, but I missed BK horribly. He seemed to just be missing out on everything during this deployment: two valentine's days, our 2nd and 3rd wedding anniversaries, my 21st birthday, thanksgiving, christmas...
On Christmas Eve I found out about an extremely close call with BK. He and a few friends were walking to eat dinner when a rocket came in from nowhere. They immediately hit the ground, but since they were on base, they were not wearing body armor, and they fully expected to have severe shrapnel wounds. After laying on the ground, nothing touched them. They got up to investigate the situation. The rocket had landed in a 6 foot patch of mud-which had absorbed the explosion and spared them from serious injury. BK knew that the Lord had protected him.

Winter semester was my cohort semester. And boy where those girls an answer to my prayers. Although it was a ridiculous semester educationally (girls, YOU know what I'm talkin' about... Oh the drama!)--I made some really great friends.


In my journal on April 2, 2006:
"I was reminded of an experience I needed to record. A couple weeks ago, BK had called me late one night. We had a good talk, but he told me of another "close call."

I didn't realize I was upset about it until I was in class the next day. We watched a clip of "Prince of Egypt" where they sing the song, "When You Believe." For some reason, the song touched me and all the emotions I had been trying to hold back came gushing out. I missed my husband. I was tired of school. I was tired of not having a normal marital relationship. I was tired of my husband being in harm's way. I was trying to control my sobs so that others wouldn't see, but I couldn't. After class my friend Mary came up and gave me a hug. The tears flowed freely at that point. A few minutes later she told me that she had felt prompted the night before, while talking on the phone to another friend, Tiffany, to say, "I feel like we need to pray for Amy. I think she is struggling with something." She and Tiffany told me that they had both prayed for me the night before. It meant so much to me that my friends were in tune enough with the Spirit to be able to ask the Lord to strengthen me the night before I was about to have one of the lowest days of BK's deployment. Upon being reminded of the Lord's love for me, my burden was lifted and I felt sincere happiness for the first time in a long time. I hope that I will never ignore the Spirit's promptings to pray for others. I am so grateful that my friends prayed for me when prompted to--even though they had no other evidence to prove that I actually needed help. This was an answer to my prayers because just the night before, I had asked the Lord to forgive me for not being so diligent in saying my personal prayers. This experience was a powerful witness to me about how quick the Lord is to forgive and bless us. All we have to do is ask Him. Without the Lord, I wouldn't have been able to accomplish anything in the last 15 months without BK. I would have been a complete wreck. I love the Lord with all my heart, and I am eternally grateful for the help I have continually received from Him in my life, even when I have been less-deserving."
Winter term ended, and I began my kindergarten student teaching in May (Another drama-fest in and of itself, right, Emily?). I couldn't believe that I was almost done with college! It had gone by so fast!

And then one day I got the phonecall I had been waiting for.