A Little of This and That in December

We enjoyed December very much. Because we were somewhat limited with what we could do and had to say no to some of the things we would normally say yes to, it lost some of the frantic, fast-paced energy of other years. I think I need more Decembers like this one. We filled our time with . . .

Spending . . . seven hours making an igloo. At the beginning of the month, we were buried in snow. It was amazing packing snow, and Aaron spent three days constructing an igloo. I was glad he felt like being out in the cold and sunshine for so long. Also, he was perhaps the only sixth grader playing in the snow on a Monday morning. We have to take advantage of these perks while we can.

Procrastinating . . . STEM projects. Both Clark and Maxwell did STEM projects this year (it was optional for Bradley's class, so he opted out). When Mike was asking Clark if he had any science questions that they could answer through a project, Clark said, "How did Jesus make the earth?" That was a little too big for a weekend project, so he went with  a bubbles experiment instead, and Maxwell did something with electricity. You can probably tell that I was not the one to help them with these projects. My job was nagging them to get started with their research, which they finally did . . . the weekend before they were due.

Getting . . . a surprise Christmas present. One day my mom came up to our house to babysit the boys while I was with Aaron at an appointment. When we got home, Ian and Clark were very excited about a present under the tree. It turned out, the present was actually for me. My mom knows about my love for nativities and had decided to get me an adorable nesting doll nativity . . . just because. She brought it early in the month so we could enjoy it for all of December. It was the most delightful, unexpected surprise, and I actually had the perfect shelf for it, so I guess it was meant to be.

Crafting . . . Christmas ornaments. For years now, ever since Aaron was little, we spend some time each December making new ornaments for our tree. This year, I turned to a beloved old-school craft from my childhood: plastic canvas. I used to make all kinds of things with this stuff--Barbie furniture, a tissue box cover to match my room, wall hangings, etc. I cut out Christmas shapes for the boys, and then they stitched their designs onto them. Aaron designed his own BYU ornament, Max created a Santa, Bradley stitched a gingerbread man, and Clark made a bell. Then they made ornaments for their teachers as well. Bradley is my crafty kid, so he especially loved it, and I think they turned out great.

Speaking . . . at Incanta's Christmas concert. Last year, I participated in a brand new women's choir. It was fun but also extremely stressful. So I let it go this year. However, in November my friend, Brooke (who founded the choir), asked me if I would be willing to be one of the speakers at the Christmas concert. She wondered if I would share the story about Maxwell being a bone marrow match for Aaron. I agreed and turned this blog post into something a bit more Christmasy. It was a privilege to be able to share a part of Aaron's story against the backdrop of breathtakingly gorgeous music, especially because it was followed by three of the sweetest lullabies, and these added tender poignancy to my words.

Finishing . . . two big knitting projects. Because knitting is such a slow craft, there are some months where I knit a lot but don't actually complete anything. But then there are other months (like this one) where I finally get to see the fruits of my labor. It felt so good to bind off on a couple of really big projects: a cabled red sweater (that I had been working on since August) and a lace cowl (that I had been working on since March). Of course, I wasn't knitting exclusively on either of these things (in fact, I took a big break from the lace cowl in the fall because I didn't have the concentration capacity to handle it). Both projects turned out just exactly as I imagined them, and I have been wearing them a ton ever since. (Now I need to choose another big project (or two) to have on my needles. It always feels good to have an ongoing big project.)

Enjoying . . . a low-key holiday season. Because we had to say no to a lot of things, we had one of the most relaxed, stress-free Decembers on record. I kind of loved it. And we still managed to do a few of our favorite traditions: the Christkindlmarkt (just Mike and me), our favorite live Nativity (Aaron stayed home), the Johnson family party (Aaron wore a mask), and Frozen 2 at the movie theater (we wiped down all of our seats and had Aaron sit in the back corner with a mask--we didn't look like paranoid parents at all).

Getting . . . my dream calling. For the last year, I've been helping in the young women organization in my church. It was a challenging calling for many reasons, but after going to camp over the summer, I finally felt like I had found my place. I enjoyed spending time with the girls and love each one of them. I anticipated that I would probably be with them for at least another year, possibly more. But then, completely out of the blue, the bishop called me one day and asked if I would serve as the primary pianist. This has been a job that I have always wanted but have never had. So even though it was disappointing to leave the young women after such a short time, I couldn't possibly say no to the thing I've always wanted to do. I'm still not sure how or why it happened, but I'm so grateful to get to be in primary with my kids and help with the music. It's going to be fun.

Exclaiming . . . over favorite presents. We couldn't have asked for a nicer Christmas Day. We spent the day at home--unwrapping gifts, trying out new games, and enjoying the new snow (Salt Lake delivered a last-minute white Christmas again!). Among the many delights, there were a few standouts: a can of Easy Cheese for Clark (turns out it was something he had always wanted, and to have his own can with no restrictions for its use was basically a dream come true for him); a little stuffed dragon for Clark (this was a whim purchase on Christmas Eve, and it ended up being his very favorite gift that he has played with every day since); a big dot-to-dot book for Bradley (he spent most of the late afternoon on Christmas working on one); a cookbook for Max (as well as his own mixing spoon); a Playmobil garbage truck for Ian (the thrill of dumping trash into the back of the truck did not get old for a very long time); a Hygge survival kit for me from my sister, Anna (she wrapped up a giant stack of presents, and it was so fun opening each one and seeing how it fit into the Hygge theme--she knows me well); and finally, a hover board for Aaron (it was the only thing he asked for (besides socks), and it did not disappoint--nothing quite compares to getting exactly what you've been dreaming of for over a month). After all was said and done, Mike and I only forgot to buy one gift (a whittling book for Max to go along with his pocket knife--we searched for it frantically on Christmas Eve but to no avail), and we only had one accidental purchase (a Playmobil school bus that somehow showed up on our porch--we'll save it for Ian's birthday).

Sledding . . . on Christmas Day. We didn't get a ton of snow on Christmas, but the mountains did, so Mike took the boys into the canyon to go sledding. I stayed home with Ian (who was taking a nap) and sat by the front window, knitting my Christmas ornament (see below) and watching a Christmas movie. The afternoon left everyone feeling happy and satisfied.

Continuing . . . with my personal tradition of knitting an ornament on Christmas Day. Mike laughs that I'm calling this a "tradition," since technically, this is only the second year I've done it (although I did knit an ornament in 2017 as well, just not on Christmas Day). But I think I'm safe calling it a tradition because I anticipate it continuing for many years to come. An ornament is a perfect little project to complete in one day, and it feels so festive to work on something that will be hung on the tree when it's done. Plus, each one later reminds me of that specific Christmas, which I love. This year, I made a cute little gnome. It had been a long time since I had made anything with double pointed needles and little parts, and I loved the process.

Baking . . . up a storm. Max has fallen in love with cooking (and baking, specifically). It's an interest that has steadily been growing for the past year. I decided to get Max a cookbook for Christmas, and he has already used it so much. Over the break, he made snickerdoodles, zebra cake, banana bread, and monkey bread. Mike or I were available for questions, but he pretty much made everything by himself. (Now if only I could get him to clean up the aftermath so independently . . . ) I told Mike, "If Maxwell asks to bake something, say yes. It always puts him in such a good mood." And it's true. I can often hear him humming and singing in the kitchen as he mixes up batter or rolls out dough. And then he practically bursts with pride (while feigning total nonchalance) as we all try his creation. It has given him a kind of confidence I haven't seen before.

Reaching . . . Day +100. Aaron did it! He made it to Day +100. The BMT team gave him the all clear to eat all of his favorite foods again, and that very day, we got take out from Jimmy Johns for lunch and pizza from The Pie for dinner. It's like Christmas every day for him as he gets to eat formerly banned foods. I thought he was going to die of happiness recently when he got to put lettuce on his chicken sandwich.

Taking . . . Bradley to Hale Center Theater's production of A Christmas Carol. We have a tradition to take each of our boys to see this play the year that they turn eight. This year, it was Bradley's turn. We went on the 26th, and it was so nice to have something fun to look forward to after Christmas. We had front row seats this time, which meant we could see the actual tears in Marley's eyes but also made the costume makeup look more garish than usual. I loved watching Bradley at the end of the play. He was practically bursting with excitement as Ebeneezer Scrooge began to right all of his wrongs. He loved some of the lines so much that he repeated them to himself, and I had to remind him not to be too loud. This has been such a fun tradition with our kids. It's weird for me to think that the next time we go, it will be with Clark, and that means he'll be eight.

Ringing . . . in 2020! We spent part of New Year's Eve at my parents' house and then came home for the remainder of the night so that Ian could go to bed.

That pretty much sums up our month all the way up to 11:59 pm on New Year's Eve, so there isn't anything left to tell. I hope all of you had a wonderful holiday season as well. 

Now You See It . . . Now You Don't!

Mornings are often very reflective for me, and as I'm writing this on an early Saturday morning, I can't help but think on the many blessings and miracles we've seen over the last five and half months since Aaron's diagnosis. 

For the first few months, it was all about adding things: transfusions, central lines, medications, food restrictions, appointments, chemotherapy, hand sanitizer, hospital stays, and stem cells. But now we've reached a point in treatment where we are gradually taking things away.

Yesterday we got rid of a big one: Aaron's broviac line was removed!

Even though it was literally a five-minute procedure, he still had to be put under general anesthesia to do it, which meant he had to be fasting. This would have been fine except that they had to add an emergency laparoscopy ahead of him, which set everything back by three hours. Aaron was a good sport about it until the iPad ran out of battery, and then all he could think about was his complaining stomach.

Everyone was so nice and apologetic about the delay, but I didn't feel even a little bit resentful about it. It felt like a privilege to be there for something so celebratory when another family was desperately trying to find answers for what was wrong with their baby. 

I was worried they might bump Aaron off the schedule completely. This would have been a bummer, but merely that--a bummer. Nothing tragic. But luckily, they eventually took him back, and everything went smoothly (including a bone marrow aspiration and biopsy, which we'll have the results from next week). 

Aaron came right out of the anesthesia, but he was the grumpiest he's ever been. He kept telling the nurse, "I want to go home." And if she asked him if he wanted anything, he would either close his eyes and rapidly shake his head or huff, "Okay." The ride home was worse as his displeasure turned into uncharacteristic wailing, but as soon as we convinced him to eat something, he calmed down, and his easy going mood was restored.

And now, the line is gone, leaving just a little scar behind as a souvenir. Actually, Aaron has two scars, one on each side, because, you might remember, his line had to be replaced awhile back after it inexplicably started to come out. 

Here are a few other facts about his line:

--It was removed four months to the day of when it was placed (the first one, that is).

--When Aaron was in the hospital, his line somehow got contaminated, and so it could no longer be used for blood draws (if they needed a tacro level). One benefit of having the line replaced was that it was once again clean and fully functioning. 

--Mike or I flushed and heparin locked his line every morning and evening. When they first showed me how to do it when Aaron was still in the hospital, I was scared and nervous. But by the end, I could pretty much do it in my sleep with Ian and Clark clustered around and Aaron trying to build Legos at the same time.

--We were also trained on how to change the claves and dressing (which had to be done every week), but I was never brave enough to try it at home. This was partly because we had such an excellent home health nurse who came to our house every Monday to do it, so I didn't feel any sort of motivation to do it myself.

--Aaron's line always flushed really smoothly. When we told Brooke (our home health nurse) that Aaron's line was coming out this week, she said, "It kind of pains me to get rid of a line that is working so well." 

--When Aaron was discharged from the hospital, he was taking all of his medication orally except for magnesium. So once a week, the pharmacy dropped off the next seven days of magnesium (little spheres the size of a tennis ball), which we hooked up to his line every night. Three weeks ago, we finally switched him to an oral magnesium, and he has done just fine with that.

--I've had an alarm set on my phone for 9:00 am and 9:00 pm so I could always remember to give Aaron his tacro and other medications and flush his line. It has become such a part of our routine that whenever it goes off, Ian says, "Oh, it's time for Aaron's medicine!" or "It's time to do Aaron's line!" 

--I have a feeling that even though the line is gone, I will still be finding blue caps and the tops of syringes under couch cushions or behind chairs for many months to come.

Last night, Mike's dad showed up with a pink box from Mrs. Backer's in celebration of the line removal. That pink box has somehow become a symbol to me of all that we've been through over the last few months, and it felt like a triumph to all gather around and gorge ourselves on yummy pastries, no restrictions attached.

P.S. We have felt so blessed by the thoughts and prayers of so many of you during these hard few months. A couple of nights ago, Mike told me, "When I thank someone for their prayers, I mean it. I really believe it's because of the prayers of others that Aaron has done so well." I agree with him completely.

Although Aaron is still on the road to recovery, it feels like he is on the home stretch. It has been a fairly smooth ride, and our hearts are continually drawn out in gratitude for our many blessings.

This week, I learned about a little girl who received a bone marrow transplant about six weeks ago. Last Friday, she suffered one of the rarest and most serious side effects of a bone marrow transplant when her lungs became inflamed and shut down. My heart is aching for this sweet family as nine different medical teams try to figure out how to help her. Our whole family has been praying for her this week, and I'd like to invite you to do the same. We have seen the power of prayer in Aaron's life and know it is the same for Indy. 

Be Present: A Look Back at My 2019 Goals

My focus for 2019 was to be present. This was prompted by a desire to truly connect with my kids, husband, friends, neighbors, and the world around me. Little did I know that the year would bring some real challenges where an ability to be present and live in the moment sometimes made all the difference between a good and a bad day.

I spent the first half of the year working diligently on my goals only to abandon almost all of them in August. Interestingly, the ones I held onto were those I had originally put in place in an attempt to keep me anchored and present. The projects were forgotten; the habits were life-saving. 

In November, I began to resurface. The intensity with which we lived August, September, and October had relaxed into something much more manageable and quiet. I revisited my goals and decided to make a real effort to complete them before the end of the year.

Nothing gives me a thrill quite like accomplishing goals, so I ended 2019 on a high note by checking off three of my goals in the final week. It was a mad dash to the finish line, and it felt good. 

Still, even with all of that pulsing ambition, it wasn't enough to pull out a perfect score. I'm okay with that. No, really. I just took a moment to think about it, and I feel content with my efforts. I tried my best, but I didn't turn into a maniac trying to get everything done in a rushed or superficial way (something that has possibly happened in the past). 

Now that the year has ended, a little reflection is in order: some confessions, some excuses, some celebrations. Using the same format as when I first presented them in January, here are the categories, my goals, and my thoughts on each one:

Habits I Wanted to Make

• Edit photos on a weekly basis--I instituted this habit at the very beginning of the year, and I stuck with it, even during the time that Aaron was in the hospital. Sometimes I was late by a week or two, but for the most part, I stayed on top of the editing (with the exception of the end of August, which I somehow didn't realize I'd never edited until I was looking back through photos this week). It has helped that I almost never use my real camera anymore so all of my editing can be done on my phone while I'm riding in the car or waiting in line or sitting at a soccer game. This is a habit I plan to continue in 2020.
• Write 2-4 paragraphs for "This and That" posts at the end of each week. I tried to dedicate some time every Sunday to summing up any important happenings or anecdotes. This made it so much easier to compile my "This and That" posts at the end of each month. Both this goal and the one above confirmed something that I already knew about myself: I would rather work on a goal in small, consistent steps than have it consume my entire life for hours (or days, as the case might be). In December I neglected this habit, which I deeply regretted when it came time to write my monthly update. 
• Write book review within three days of finishing the book--Or how about, stop writing book reviews altogether? This goal was going so well until the summer. I'd like to blame it on all of the medical things that took over my time, but to be honest, I had already begun to slip before then. We'll see what happens in 2020, but overall I'm feeling a less pressing need to record all of my thoughts after finishing a book. 

Places I Wanted to Visit

• Go on a family vacation in the summer--We went to Lake Tahoe the week before Aaron was diagnosed. I'm sure we would have cancelled it if we'd known what was going on in his body at the time. But we didn't, and it was a blissful five days with my brother's family. Besides that, we also took our kids to Disneyland, went to southern Utah for spring break, and took a couple's trip to New York City. Not too shabby before all of our plans for adventure came to a screeching halt in August.

• Take my kids to the Joseph Smith exhibit at the Church History Museum in downtown Salt Lake City--I'm not even going to pretend with this one. I didn't do it. The sad thing is, it wouldn't have been at all hard to do (especially pre-August), but I just never prioritized it. But with 2020 being the 200th anniversary of Joseph Smith's First Vision, it's probably better that we waited anyway. At least that's what I'm telling myself.
• Try new restaurants that are close to home--I failed to keep a list, but these are the places I remember: Caputo's, Meier's, Layla, Iced, Copper Kitchen, Real Taqueria, A Pig and a Jelly Jar, Harbor, Cheddaburger, and Tradition. Out of all of those, my favorite was probably Copper Kitchen, mostly because their beet salad basically blew my mind, and I dream about it more often than I should admit. This was a really fun goal and one that I'm sure we'll continue in 2020 (in fact, we already have plans to go to a new place tonight). 
• Go to a Utah temple I haven't been to before--I went to the Draper temple with my friend, Sarah, and was planning to just count that for my goal (even though I felt like it was cheating just a little bit since I had been to a sealing there previously). But the temple I had in mind when I made this goal was actually the Provo City Center Temple, and I had a hard time giving that up. So five days before the New Year, I convinced my mom to go with me, and we had a lovely afternoon in the temple. 

Projects I Wanted to Complete

• Sew a dress for myself--I ended up sewing two dresses for myself. The first one was made out of the wrong fabric and felt like I was wearing a stiff burlap sack (plus, just when I was almost done with it, I noticed a big flaw running through the fabric). So I purchased a nice lightweight linen when we were in New York and remade the exact same dress. The result was much better, and it is going to be the perfect neutral canvas to wear some of my knitted pieces with (see below). Also, it maybe rekindled my love of sewing (if only I didn't have to drag out all of my equipment every time I want to make something!).

Dress #1

 Dress #2

• Knit a lace cowl--This is my crowning achievement of 2019, or at least it feels that way. I fell in love with the Prism cowl back in 2017. I attempted to make it but ended up ripping it out in total frustration after just seven rows. After a year of other projects (including some lace and chart reading), I decided I was ready to tackle it again. I cast on in March and wove in my final end on December 31st. It represents close to 200 hours of focused work (no mindless knitting here), and I am insanely proud of it. (Plus, it pairs perfectly with my handmade dress!)

• Landscape the front of our house--I was overthinking it, and then one day in the spring, Mike just decided to buy a bunch of random bushes and plant them in the front and back yards. It isn't perfect, but sometimes done is better than perfect. (I'm excited to see how much they've grown in the spring . . . or how many we've inadvertently killed.)

• Decorate Ian's bedroom--I love decorated spaces, but I am not a decorator. I just don't seem to have a vision for it. I don't know how to use space very creatively, and I am very distrustful of my own taste and preferences. So in the end, I didn't change as much as I wanted to, but I still: purchased a new chair, swapped out the rug, found a perfect bedside lamp, rearranged the furniture, painted the walls (credit goes to Mike), and hung up pictures. I still would like to find a good way to display/store picture books, hang a mirror on the opposite wall, and possibly do some kind of window treatment (although I don't want it to make the room feel smaller . . .). Also, Ian is going to be moving out of his crib in the next couple of months so that will change things, too. But for now, here is a before and after shot.

• Read Saints: The Standard of Truth, Volume 1--This was the only goal I made that had anything to do with reading. I listened to this book off and on throughout the year. I found myself needing to take breaks from it because, quite frankly, it was rather faith-shaking and disturbing. I think I grew up with a rather glorified view of the early pioneers and founders of my faith, and although it's true that they made a lot of sacrifices and had strong testimonies, they also made a lot of mistakes and succumbed to many human frailties. I am still wrestling with how to move forward with some of this information. 

Things I Wanted to Do to Be More Present

• Notice the eye color of the person I'm talking to--If you've noticed me gazing uncomfortably into your eyes over the past year, this is why. Haha, I'm just kidding. I actually dropped this goal after the first month or two, but I think it had the long-term benefit of increasing my attention to others. I maybe didn't always consciously notice the color of their eyes, but I noticed other things about them, and that helped me in my sincere interactions with them. 
• Observe what the sky looks like every day--This might have been my very favorite goal of 2019. What a gift it was to consciously notice the sky every day. I saw things I never have before and felt sweet gratitude for the world I live in and the beauties all around me. I would encourage everyone to just take a minute to look, really look, at the sky each day and see how it makes you feel.

• Limit phone use by setting weekly time and usage goals--Oh, this goal. I tried so many different things to break away from the chains of my phone. And many of them worked. But all of them felt really restrictive--not like I was becoming less addicted to my phone, but more like I was forcing myself not to look at it. I do much better at abstaining than moderating. But abstaining doesn't really seem like an option in today's world, at least not completely. Yes, I could delete my accounts on Instagram and Facebook. Yes, I could switch back over to a flip phone so that I wouldn't have access to my email or the internet. But what I really want is to still be able to have my phone for when I really need it but not feel its constant pull to use it and look at it. Here are some of the effective things I did to help me manage my time on my phone: daily blackout times, not looking at my phone after I went to bed, earning social media time by listening to a talk first, setting a time limit on certain apps, deleting apps off of my phone, and staying off Instagram on Sundays. Like I said above, these things have worked, but they haven't changed my actual inclination or desire, and that's what I really want.
• Write down three things I'm grateful for every night--I was really good with this one for the first month or two of the year, and then I reinstituted it when Aaron was in the hospital. But other than that, I haven't done the best with actually writing down my gratitude (which is kind of funny since I'm already writing in my journal every night so it would be so easy to do). I believe in the power of gratitude though, so I'm trying to figure out a way to make it a tangible part of my 2020.
• Continue with weekly special time with my kids--I wrote an entire blog post in October 2018 about my love of one-on-one special time with each of my kids. Soon after writing that post however, some of the boys started to resist it (Maxwell had already been complaining about it for quite some time). I think I made that goal in the hopes that I could power through and save it, but instead, I decided to let it go. It was meant to be a time each week that my kids looked forward to, but it seemed to be having the opposite effect. So instead, I decided to not force my kids into my own rigid ideas of quality time but rather listen to them when they asked for something and then do my very best to agree to whatever it was. If one of them wanted to play a game (or jump on the tramp or read or talk or make something), I tried to say yes. It wasn't easy for me; I like things to be on the schedule so I can plan for them; and I don't like taking a break if I'm in the middle of something that feels important. But being spontaneous felt more genuine. Maybe that will change this year. I don't know. But for 2019, that's what felt right. 

I remember at the beginning of 2019 feeling rather silly for choosing "Be Present" as my theme. It seemed a little cliche. But I couldn't deny that I felt drawn, almost compelled, to choose it. 

As I committed to be present every day, a funny thing happened. I delighted in the very simplest of things: clouds cradled between mountain peaks, a brilliant orange sky on Halloween night, a poplar tree that inexplicably wouldn't drop its leaves (even though its two neighbors did), an old house in minty paint that I never noticed before even though I'd driven past it a hundred times, the smell of pine in the air. These things have brought me an inordinate amount of joy.

And the thing is, they have always been there. I used to notice them only when they were highlighted in some way. But this year, I sought them out, and they rushed to show themselves to me. It's been kind of magical actually. 

Now I'm turning my attention to 2020. I have my theme; I've narrowed down most of my goals. I'm ready to commit to something new.

A Tribute to Good Nurses Everywhere

The other day, Aaron said, "Remember when I was in the hospital?" He said it almost like it was a distant memory. It's amazing how quickly such a big experience can fade away into the normalcy of daily life.

The truth is, I actually think about our time in the hospital almost every day--or rather, I think about the people in the hospital. If it's Tuesday, I know Kathy is probably there. If it's Friday night, then Mariah. If it's Sunday, Dave.

We're still at the hospital a lot--at least twice a week on Tuesdays and Fridays, but most of our favorite nurses work in the inpatient unit, and we no longer have an easy pass to those hallways. I often wish that I'll bump into one of them on the stairs or in the lobby, just so I can say hello and ask them how they're doing.

To them, I realize that Aaron was just another patient (and, from what I could gather, a pretty easy one at that). Their days (or nights) followed a very typical routine. The patients in the rooms changed, but the tasks stayed the same.

But to us, these nurses meant everything. They were in and out of Aaron's room all day--switching out medications, checking vitals, drawing labs. We learned about their families and interests. They told us funny stories. They helped break up the monotony of those long days.

We would anticipate the changing of the guard every morning and night, wondering if we would get a favorite nurse or if we would be meeting someone new. During the four weeks we were there, I can honestly say we didn't dislike any of our nurses. Each one was capable and professional. Aside from a couple of very rare exceptions, it always felt like Aaron was in good hands.

But we definitely had a few that we liked best, and those are the ones I think about frequently. They were the ones I felt like we could have been friends with in real life, even without an IV pole to help break the ice. But when we left the hospital, our goodbyes carried a note of finality. We knew the only way to see them again would be to be admitted, and we certainly didn't want that.

So even though they'll never see this post, a round of thank yous is still in order:

To Ashlyn, who, on our first day at the hospital, noticed my silent tears and asked if we wanted her to pull the curtain for some privacy. I said no, it was fine, I just couldn't seem to quell my emotions, and she looked right at me with a look of sincere compassion and said, "It's okay. It's hard." She has remained our favorite nurse in the clinic, and she is one of the only ones on this list that we still get to see on a regular basis. (She also taught me how to pop a heparin flush--a little trick that cannot be overemphasized.)

To Chelsea, who took Aaron to get a chest x-ray but got more than she bargained for when his knees suddenly buckled and he fainted onto the floor. She was Aaron's tech several times over the course of his hospital stay, and she was always so cheerful and friendly. But the best thing was when she walked into his room, saw the photos of him and his brothers on the wall, and said, "Oh, my heart."

To Tracie, Aaron's nurse on the first day of his long, extended stay. I asked her a question when she came in for the first time, and she made sure to explain every single thing after that. She brought ice for Aaron with his first dose of chemo. She flew into quick action when he had a bad reaction to the ATG. And she said that adolescent boys were usually her least favorite patients, but she'd never had one like Aaron. She couldn't believe he was for real. (I'll love her forever for that.) (And because we had her right at the beginning, I wasn't in my picture-taking rhythm yet, so I don't have one with her.)

To Mariah, who helped with an elaborate setup to accommodate a huge board game. This involved removing the foot board from the bed and bringing in another table. She persevered with a solution even after Mike gave up. She was a stealthy night nurse, entering the room on tiptoe and showing the utmost consideration for Aaron's sleep. She told me she liked working nights because she had "lots of time to do research." She also called and yelled at the pharmacy when they were late with Aaron's tacro.

To Callie, the only child life specialist Aaron liked--a true BYU fan through and through. She helped us decorate his room, asked him silly questions, had him out of bed playing basketball, and threw an awesome going-away party. It was unusual for Aaron to express any sort of fondness for anyone, but he was quick to tell people about Callie and how she was the best child life specialist ever. He always lit up when she came into his room.

To Rai, Aaron's nurse on transplant day. The day before, she sat down beside me and went over every single medication on Aaron's long list, explaining why it was being given, what it was for, and how often he was getting it. She also ate a piece of pie with the rest of our family to celebrate Aaron's transplant while Aaron snoozed away, oblivious to the world.

To Megan, a night nurse we only had one time, but it happened to be on Aaron's hardest night in the hospital. I wasn't there, but Mike said she was so kind to him, even as he was wailing inconsolably. She came back several nights later, even though she wasn't assigned to Aaron, to cheer him on when he shaved his head.

To Amanda, our very favorite tech, who was just weeks away from graduating from nursing school and being hired as a nurse at Primary's. When I told Mike that she was almost a nurse, he was not one bit surprised. She handled all of her tasks with so much confidence and skill but never seemed like she was above the most menial tasks. She is going to be the best nurse.

To Kathy, who charmed me from the beginning with her Boston accent (I may have covertly recorded her talking, just so I could listen to it again). She had worked at Primary's for over 25 years and was there for the inception of the bone marrow transplant program. She was a wealth of knowledge, and I consulted her about things even on days when she wasn't our nurse. She was always very interested in whatever Aaron was doing, cheered him on when he was playing hospital trivia or bingo, and congratulated him on every calorie he ate. She also told the best stories. Oh, and did I mention that she played roller derby, traveled all over the world, and was also a knitter???

To Dave, who had the heart of a teacher. He explained every cell count and metabolic number--printing out labs, pointing out trends, and circling important numbers. He used data to relieve my fear and anxiety. He taught me how to do a dressing and clave change. He also didn't get offended when my kids were puzzled (but mesmerized) by a "boy nurse."

To Emily, Mike's favorite night nurse: practical, efficient, and nice. She provided the clippers (and moral support) when Aaron's hair was falling out and it was time to shave it off. And she found the perfect BYU hat on the tree stand and brought it to Aaron.

To Allison, our nurse on our last two days at the hospital. I still remember the text Mike sent me on the morning she was assigned to us: "You are going to like our nurse today." And I did. She was very thorough in all of the discharge instructions, coached me through another dressing and clave change,  and made sure we were well-prepared to go home. I think we had pretty similar personalities and actually could have been friends in real life.

To Brooke, who has come to our home nearly every week in the last two-and-a-half months. Because, in spite of all the training I had from Dave and Allison on caring for Aaron's central line, I  still feel more at ease when a nurse does it. It's pretty amazing that a nurse will just come to your home. Before this happened, I never knew that such services existed. (It's really too bad that they won't let the home health nurses draw labs too--Brooke told me today that they can for every other patient except for bone marrow transplant kids.)

Although I have mentioned specific people in this post (and felt a little emotional seeing all of these pictures in one place), it is really meant to be a tribute to good nurses (and other medical professionals) everywhere. My gratitude knows no bounds.

On the Horizon

In the world of bone marrow transplants, Day +100 is a big deal.

A couple of months ago, we said, "I wonder what the date is for Aaron's 100 days? It must be right around Christmas." We consulted a calendar and were delighted to discover that Day +100 landed exactly on December 25th.

For leukemia patients, I believe Day +100 is when they start being weaned off of the anti-rejection drug. They need their immune systems back up and running to be able to fight the cancer.

But Aaron doesn't have any cancer to fight, so he will continue to stay on tacro (the anti-rejection drug) for an additional three months before beginning the three-month weaning period. With aplastic anemia, it takes longer to fully restore and replenish the bone marrow, and so the extra months with tacro help give the body time to do that.

But even though Aaron won't enjoy any change in that drug, Day +100 is still an important milestone for a number of reasons:

1. The risk of GVHD (graft-versus-host-disease) drops significantly after the first 100 days. Up to this point, Aaron has not shown a single sign of it. (The risk will increase again when he comes off of tacro in the spring).

2. Aaron has stayed almost completely healthy during these 100 days. This has allowed his body to focus on blood cell production instead of fighting infections.

3. This past week, the BMT team took him off of two medications: fluconazole (given to prevent fungal and yeast infections) and ursodiol (used to protect the liver). I'm not sure how they decide it's the right time to discontinue these medications; his blood counts have changed very little in the last few weeks, so it must have more to do with the passing of time than cell production.

4. This coming week, we are going to try to transition Aaron from IV magnesium to oral magnesium. This is in preparation for . . .

5. . . . the removal of Aaron's central line! We don't have an exact date yet, but if everything continues to go well, his line will be removed sometime in the next two weeks. We are all excited for this one.

6. Most bone marrow transplant patients we know had almost all of their food restrictions lifted at Day +100. The doctors have not talked about this with Aaron yet, so we're trying not to get our hopes up (but I still might have googled "restaurants open on Christmas Day in Salt Lake City" just in case that information proves useful).

7. In the next couple of weeks, Aaron will get to redo a lot of the tests he did before his transplant (pulmonary, EKG, auditory, etc.) to see if he sustained any damage from the chemotherapy.

8. Aaron's frequent clinic appointments will drop from twice a week to once a week.

9. We might be able to relax our rules about isolation. Aaron certainly hopes so because there are a couple of family Christmas parties he desperately would like to go to. However, I'm hesitant to even wish for this or make any sorts of promises since he is unfortunately reaching Day +100 just as cold and flu season is getting into full swing.

No matter what though, 100 days post-transplant is a huge achievement, and I know that Aaron will look at any gain, even very small ones, as the best Christmas present ever.

A Little of This and That in November

I noticed a distinct decrease in the number of photos I took this month. This always happens to me when the light starts to fade with the season. I find that the only really good time to take photos is between the hours of 11:00 and 2:00, and I almost always miss that window. Even so, I still managed to snap a few to go along with all of the things we had going on in November, including . . .

Preferring . . . Mike. Ian is a daddy's boy through and through, and it's been that way for at least the last nine months. He tags along with Mike everywhere--to the store, to do yard work, to make dinner, to take a nap. If Mike is around, Ian basically never chooses me for anything. He wants Mike, and only Mike, to get him dressed, read him a story, change his diaper, get him lunch, or put him down for a nap. Sometimes it drives me crazy because it would be much more convenient for me to get him, say, a drink of water, but even the suggestion causes him to scream for Mike. It's only when Mike goes to work that he finally acknowledges me. It's good I'm at least number two.

Making . . . a Christmas list. Clark has been getting big ideas for what he wants for Christmas. So far his list includes a grappling hook, jet pack, and vending machine. My other kids have always struggled with thinking of things they want. (Bradley almost always asks for something he already has.) But Clark doesn't have any problems coming up with ideas. However, he might be severely disappointed come Christmas morning.

Wishing . . . for a bike path. It's one thing that Salt Lake really needs. I've been wanting to ride my bike more, but sharing the road with cars makes me nervous. We have one path that was put in a few years ago, so Mike and I finally tried it out earlier in the month. But I was disappointed that it hugged the freeway the entire time, and it wasn't very long.

Going . . . to a high school play. My nephew was in the orchestra (on the piano) for his high school's production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat. I took Bradley and Maxwell to see it, and we loved it. In fact, on our way home, we turned on the soundtrack of the Broadway production of it, and we all agreed that we liked the voices of the high school kids better than the professionals. Steven came over and talked to us during intermission, and I can't tell you how grateful I am that my kids have this amazing cousin to look up to.

Exercising . . . consistently. At the beginning of the month, Mike and I decided it was time to begin a consistent exercise routine. We completely let it slip during the last several months, and we were starting to really feel it. We also decided to cut way down on sugar and treats. Since running outside isn't much of an option for me (I hate running in the cold and dark), I've been looking for some workout videos, ideally that can be done in twenty minutes or less. (One of the big deterrents for me with exercise is that it takes up time that I would rather be spending on something else. I want to get my heart rate up, sweat a little, and be done with it.) While doing a search on Amazon, I found a series of videos from Maggie Binkley, and I love them. They are pretty much exactly what I want: short and intense, and I love that she looks like a normal human and isn't trying to show off her body.

Judging . . . Reflections. I was asked to be a judge for the music entries in Reflections (a national school-wide competition celebrating the arts). My kids, who have participated in Reflections for years, were very impressed: "Wait, you're judging Reflections?!" I think it maybe dampened their confidence in the competition if someone as ordinary as their mom could be a judge.

Choosing . . . to be baptized. Due to Aaron being in the hospital, we had to postpone Bradley's baptism by several weeks, but it finally happened. We got permission for Aaron to attend, and he was even able to be one of the witnesses. We had some of our extended family there as well, although many chose to stay home because of colds and other illnesses, which we appreciated. My brother, Gordy, and our nephew, Steven, both gave talks; Mike baptized and confirmed Bradley. It was simple and quiet, and Bradley was radiantly happy.

Learning . . . about the new children and youth program in my church. For the past year, we have known that the Church was planning to discontinue their participation in the scouting program and replace it with a new endeavor for 8-18 year olds. We finally learned more about it this month, and it is fantastic. It's basically exactly the kind of program I would have designed myself. It is goal oriented, dividing up personal development into four categories: spiritual, intellectual, social, and physical. It is the type of program that can be universally applied no matter where you live in the world, what your economic status is, or what your home environment is like. It can be very individualized based on each person's own needs, talents, and desires. I love it. And I'm so looking forward to helping my boys with it and doing it myself. (That said, my heart tugged just a little when we had our final pack meeting this month. I know many boys and men who have been richly blessed by the scouting program . . . including my own sons, dad, and brothers.)

Selling . . . his truck. After five years of loving his perfect old truck, Mike decided to sell it. It was having some problems that he didn't feel were worth fixing, and he was kind of tired of driving a gas-guzzling, difficult-to-park truck to work every day. Instead, he bought an equally old Toyota Avalon from his little sister. Although the truck went to a good home (a cowboy boots clad teenager with a brand new license who loves to work on cars), Mike instantly regretted his decision. He has loved having a truck for hauling stuff around, and he's already missing it. I'd be surprised if he doesn't break down and buy another truck in a few months.

Waiting . . . for the leaves to drop. Every year it's the same thing. Our giant maple tree in the backyard just hangs onto its leaves while the weather is nice and then finally drops them all when it's December and no one wants to think about raking leaves anymore.

Playing . . . in the first snow of the season. We got our first real snow (meaning that it stuck to the ground and had to be shoveled) the week of Thanksgiving. It came down in big, fluffy flakes, and Aaron stood at the front window and said, "This is filling me with joy!"

Saying . . . no. If there's one thing that has changed in the last few months, it is that we have become very good at saying no. No to play dates, family parties, activities, favors, and requests. There have been a few things that have sneaked in with a yes, and those have been very intentional. This is just the phase we're in right now. We still appreciate being asked, but chances are, we'll have to say no.

Cooking . . . a Thanksgiving feast all on our own. For the first time ever, we didn't go anywhere for Thanksgiving, and we didn't invite anyone over either. It was just Mike and me and our boys. We decided it was just too stressful (for us and anyone else involved) to go somewhere. I thought it would feel a little lonely or too quiet or overwhelming to be solely responsible for all of the food. But it was heavenly. As we were planning the menu, we asked everyone for their favorite dishes. Then we divided it up, and each one made something (and okay, Mike filled in all of the gaps). Aaron made key lime pie, Maxwell made mashed potatoes, Bradley made a cheese ball, and Clark arranged the relish tray. :-) As we all sat down around the table, Clark asked if we could hold hands for the prayer. We did, and it was such a tender moment for me. We were unified in our desire to support and love Aaron, and we felt joy in sacrificing our regular traditions. I squeezed the hands of Clark and Ian and looked at the faces of everyone else and felt so grateful that they are mine. My one regret of the day was that we didn't have any sweet potatoes because I am the only one who likes them, and I didn't think I could eat an entire dish on my own. But the holiday didn't quite feel complete without them.

Having . . . dinner at Mike's parents' house. This has felt like such a treat for us, especially Aaron. We feel like it's a safe place to take Aaron since it's just Mike's mom and dad, and we know they'll tell us if they're sick. Plus, they live fairly close to us, so it's easy to go and be back home in a couple of hours. It's been so nice to have a change of pace, especially on Sundays, which can feel a little stifling.

Watching . . . the new movie about Mister Rogers. I loved it. If anyone ever finds out something bad about him, please don't tell me about it, okay? I like thinking that there was someone so genuinely good in the world.

Creating . . . a new game. Mike and the boys have been hard at work developing a new game that uses a combination of dice and a board. They tell me it's a little bit like Stratego. Chances are if we know you in real life, you have been roped into playing it as they try out new rules and tweak the game play. Don't worry, Maxwell already has big plans to manufacture and market it.

Making . . . a Christmas playlist. I spent way too much time over the Thanksgiving break gathering up songs for a playlist for this Christmas. But it was worth it because I landed on a great blend of new and old, sacred and fun, and we've been listening to it almost nonstop ever since. 

And I guess that wraps it up for another month!