A Glimpse, and I Didn't Much Like It

All my life, I have had health insurance. My dad was a fire fighter for the City of Portland, so growing up I was covered under his policy. Then I got married, and Gerald's jobs have always provided basic health insurance. At times the coverage was better than at other times, but I always had insurance.

Until I didn't.

Last fall, Gerald took a voluntary severance package from his employer in Montana, so he could move to Utah where the rest of us were already living. When his job ended, so did our insurance. For the first time in my life, I was uninsured. I had a glimpse of what 50,000,000 Americans live with day after day, and I didn't much like it. I was scared all the time. I would lie awake at night, worrying about what would happen if one of us got into a serious car accident or developed a chronic illness. With the high cost of healthcare, it would mean financial ruin. We are fortunate for sure; we are all extremely healthy. None of us is under the regular care of  physician, and no one in our family takes any prescription medication. But what if we did? What if that suddenly changed? The stress of this situation practically consumed me. We are still providing the major support for four of our five children. What would we do if an unexpected medical emergency left us bankrupt?

Ultimately, Gerald's temporary seasonal job at Backcountry.com became a permanent, full time position, which provides benefits, but those benefits didn't begin until June 1st. That means for seven months, our family lived without insurance. No, it didn't affect us terribly, other than taking a toll on my mental health. We had to forgo our regular dental checkups. That was too bad, especially for Seth, who inherited his dad's bad teeth. I lived with a UTI for several weeks until it got so painful that I was forced to pay the $120 fee at the InstaCare plus $50 for the script, because I could no longer function. We were lucky compared to many. And I am grateful.

Shortly after Swen was born, Gerald and I went to the immunization clinic to get Tdap booster shots. With a newborn preemie in the house, we didn't want to risk exposing him to anything bad, especially whooping cough, which is making a comeback as more and more parents are opting to postpone or forgo their children's immunizations. As we registered at the front desk, the receptionist asked, "Do you have insurance?" My heart skipped a beat before I could answer. "Yes, yes we do," and I pulled out my brand new insurance card. Until that moment when I felt that utter relief, I don't think I fully realized the extent of my anxiety during those seven months we didn't have coverage.

Yesterday, as Gerald and I, along with Baby Swen, sat together watching CNN report the U.S. Supreme Court decision on Obamacare, I was elated. This is a monumental step forward for human rights. Thank you, President Obama, and thank you, to the five justices. Finally, a positive step to correct the atrocity of the healthcare system in this country. The Clintons tried for eight years to make progress but were shut down by the opposition at every turn. Now we go forward in faith that positive reform will continue. Because decent, affordable healthcare should not be a luxury of the rich. It is a basic human right of all. It's no secret that I am not fond of the politics of the presumed Republican presidential nominee, but he has one thing exactly right: If we want to protect and preserve the Affordable Healthcare Act, we MUST reelect the President. Here in Utah, my vote won't count at all, but those of you who live in states that could make a difference need to do all you possibly can for this cause.

I had a glimpse of what it feels like to be uninsured, and let me tell you what: I didn't much like it.

It's All About Shopping

Yesterday was Swen's one month birthday. It was also one day after his due date, but since he basically told his mother "Get me out of here, or I'll kill you," he was born 4-1/2 weeks early. (Okay, that was a "Matt" line, but I couldn't resist.) Since he was a preemie, and because that nasty RSV is still around even in summer, his doctor advised Shulamith not to take him out of the house for the first month, other than for doctor visits. He was also not to be around children, and even contact with adults should be limited. More people = more germ potential! Consequently, Shulamith was experiencing a bit of cabin fever, having stayed in the house with him for an entire month. So on his one month birthday, we decided to take him out to celebrate. We told him he could go anywhere he wanted, and guess what? He chose the mall! The kid obviously has his priorities straight.

Now Isaiah tried to dissuade him. "Don't do it, Swen! Don't sell out to these two. I swear they will have you in shopping malls for the rest of your natural life. Dude, seriously, stay home with me and play video games." Did all this peer pressure work? Nope. Swen is definitely his own baby. He opted to go to the mall with us. Ha! And did we take him to just one? Oh no! There were stores we wanted at both malls, so we took him to South Town Center AND Fashion Place.

And he did great. What a little shopping trooper. He's going to be just fine. He was especially impressed that both malls have mothers' lounges perfect for diaper changing and nursing. With rocking chairs, even! W00T! And he thought his stroller was a way cool means of transportation (that is, as long as his mom or I kept it in constant motion). We were able to get so much accomplished: make-up brushes, $5 Gap shirts (nice, huh!), and bras for both of us. TMI, you say? Whatever. Best of all, Swen found an infant-wear store that spotlights one of its cutest outfits every Tuesday and sells it for 40% off. We bought that for him to wear for his first time at church this Sunday, and Swen plans to go back every Tuesday to take advantage of that weekly special.

Video games? Are you kidding, Isaiah? Swen knows how to have fun. It's all about shopping.

A Week to Remember

When we moved from Billings nearly a year ago, we left behind some treasured friends. One of those was Seth's best friend, Ethan. Here they are just before we moved. That was the last day they spent together.

A whole year went by. Both boys continued on with their lives, Ethan with his friends in Billings, and Seth with his new friends here in Utah. They kept in touch to some extent though not all that much. Then last week, the opportunity arose for Ethan to come and spend a whole week with us while his older sister attended EFY. Everyone was excited for sure; still, I found myself wondering how it would be after a whole year. Would it be awkward? Would they still get along as well as they always did? Would they have changed and grown in different directions?

The answers to these questions became clear the second they saw each other when we drove up to Ogden to pick up Ethan at his aunt's house. It was as though the year never happened, and their friendship picked up right where if left off. On the drive back to Sandy, they sat in the backseat of the car and escaped into their own world, which consisted of trying to find "yogurt" (yellow?) cars, listening to their favorite music, and plotting out what was sure to be a week to remember.

I know from experience that one thing they like to do is stay up all night eating junk food and playing the card game Killer Bunnies (pictured above). And I do mean all night. So I warned them that first night that, because Seth's 12th birthday was the following day, I had plans that would require them to be up and ready to leave the house by 10:00. "Consider this, when you organize your sleep schedule," I admonished. They did. Gerald said they were actually in bed by 1:00 am, definitely an early record for the two of them.

Because little Swen was born just three weeks before Ethan arrived, I was less able to be away from home for long periods of time, so I enlisted the help of the guys in the family to make this a fun week for Ethan and Seth. Brenda (Ethan's mom) and I had plotted a surprise birthday trip to Lagoon, a huge and super fun amusement park north of here. This became Isaiah's contribution to the week. He took the boys for nine straight hours of rides. Though I gave them money for food, apparently all they ate was a quick pretzel in between rides. By the time they got home at nearly 9:00 pm with a pizza to sate their hunger, Isaiah was thoroughly exhausted. Those little boys wore him right out. All three reported an awesome day, and Seth's gratitude for the birthday surprise was indeed heartfelt. I told Ethan I was sorry that the best activity of the week happened to be his first day with us, but he said he didn't mind.

And I believe him. The remainder of the week was filled with one fun thing after another. On Saturday, Gerald took the boys hiking in the High Uintas Wilderness Area, where Ethan taught Seth to fish. How crazy is that? Our family is not exactly "into" such things, but Ethan brought his fishing pole, and the two of them managed to catch six fish! That night, in case they weren't tired enough from a six-mile hike in the mountains, Matt took them rock-climbing. This is Matt's favorite hobby, and Seth has gone with him many times, but it was Ethan's first experience. From what I hear, both boys were able to successfully climb something; I'm not sure what...but something. When I asked Ethan if he liked rock-climbing, he recounted a story of falling off a boulder and Matt catching him and catapulting him onto the crash pad. I didn't ask any more questions. On another day, Matt took them to Nickelcade, a big arcade where all the games cost just a nickel. Ten dollars entertained them for several hours.

All too soon, the week was over, and it was time to drive south to meet up with Ethan's aunt and cousins, who would take Ethan with them for the following week. I could sense the boys' growing angst at their final day together came to an end. When would they see each other again? Would they have to wait a whole year? If I could figure out a way to teleport Seth to Billings in July or August, I would do it. Seth is not very demonstrative with his feelings, but as they said goodbye, Ethan hugged him, and they both tried to smile.

I'm impressed with the maturity of this friendship in two kids so young. I wonder if they will always be friends. I think so. Will they one day go to the same college? Be roommates? Will they keep in touch through their missions? Will they attend each other's weddings? One of my closest friends is a girl I have known since I was 12, so exactly Ethan and Seth's age. She lives in Vancouver, WA, but we still correspond by email several times a week and see each other whenever possible. I am thankful for Ethan and for the good and steady friend he is to Seth. I am thankful for his wonderful parents who have taught him so well.

And I'm thankful for this past week, most definitely a week to remember.

It's Just Different with Preemies

Yesterday, I was having a conversation with Matt's mom, who had stopped by to visit Shulamith and Matt and Swen. The two new parents were downstairs catching some desperately-needed sleep, and I had Swen upstairs, so Dawn sat down for a while to visit. It's always nice to talk with her. As we talked, our focus turned from making strawberry freezer jam together (Yum!) to how life is going with Baby Swen. In our conversation, it occurred to me how very different the experience of Swen's birth and homecoming has been from that of my own five children. I never had a premature baby. All my kids took their own sweet time making an appearance; all were a week late, and averaging 9 pounds, they were half grown by the time they were born. They never wore newborn clothes or diapers. They never had to struggle to gain weight. I didn't know how easy I had it.

I never had to worry about many of the things Shulamith does. It's just different with preemies. With premature infants, weight gain is always the first and foremost issue. All newborns needs to gain weight, of course, but with preemies, it's critical. Full term babies have sufficient stores that they can afford to lose a little weight as they wait for their mother's milk to come in; preemies don't have that luxury. And getting them to gain is no easy task. First, their little mouths are often so tiny that they struggle to latch on correctly and suck effectively. Every time she nurses, I hear Shulamith encouraging her little one: "Big mouth, Swen. Come on, open wide. You can do it!"

In addition, there is the issue of calories consumed versus calories burned. With my babes, I didn't have to worry about conserving energy. No, I didn't let my babies cry; I don't believe in leaving babies to cry regardless of the situation. Still, if they happened to cry for half a second while I put down whatever I was doing to go to them, I didn't have to fear they were burning too many calories. It takes lots of energy to cry. Preemies, therefore, need to be kept calm. And warm. Because calm, warm babies grow. On the other hand, if they are too calm and warm, they tend to want to sleep rather than wake up and feed. Gracious, it's complicated! How do you win?

The answer is through commitment, perseverance, and unwavering determination. Shulamith and Swen are winning the feeding game because of her constant attention and concern for his unusual needs as a preemie. Though still recovering from HELLP Syndrome, a dangerous complication of preeclampsia, not to mention the normal recovery that goes with any C-section and the sleep deprivation that comes with any newborn, she continues to make Swen's feeding needs her constant priority, even when it's hard. It has taught her that she can do hard things. It's not easy to wake a sleeping newborn in the middle of the night when you are so very, very tired, yourself. But Swen needs to eat at a minimum every 3 hours, and if he doesn't wake up himself, she needs to wake him. And she does.

She and I took him to the doctor today for a weigh-in, just to reassure ourselves, and I'm thrilled to report that he now weights a whopping 6 lbs. 5 ozs. He has gained 5 ounces in just 4 days, which is positively fabulous. We celebrated with drive-thru McDonald's ice-cream cones and Diet Cokes on our way home. We will both sleep easier tonight. Well, I should probably say I will sleep easier because Shulamith doesn't actually get to sleep much. But she will rest easier knowing all her effort is paying off. Through her incredible commitment, she will be able to give her little baby what she believes is the best start possible, exclusively breast milk for the first year.

I have always been proud of my daughter. So many occasions have made me proud. When she called me from a friend's house and asked me to come get her because the girls at the middle school party were going to watch an R-rated movie, I was proud. When she rose above the endless drama and led her cheer squad to accomplish great things, I was proud. When she walked across the stage and received her bachelor's degree from Westminster College, I was proud. When she entered the temple with her wonderful husband-to-be, I was proud. But I'm pretty sure I have never been as proud of her as I have been these past three weeks as I've witnessed her unyielding and relentless love and care for her little son. It's just different with preemies. And this precious preemie is so very lucky to have the mom he does.

Pictures!

As you may have noticed, my blog is heavy on text and light on photos. There's a reason for that. I love to write, and I hate taking pictures. Why? Because I'm a terrible photographer. Are you surprised? Of course you're not. Just add photography to the list of dozens of other skills I do not have. When I take pictures, usually they are blurry, or someone's head is chopped off. You probably don't want to ask me to photograph any important event in your life or even an unimportant one. Just sayin'. Moreover, I'm also not very adept at uploading photos to this blog. I can do it....sort of. I have no idea how to strategically embed photos around text to create an aesthetically pleasing, artistic page. No idea at all.

Consequently, I mostly stick to what I like to do. I write. And most of the time, that's good enough. This time, though, Shulamith really wants Swen's early photos to be included in this blog. Since one of its purposes is to record our family's history, that definitely makes sense. So I'm going to try. I'm going to try to upload several pictures of Swen. If you see them, it worked.

 First bath!

 Froggy outfit

 Shulamith Webster, Mathew Monson, and Baby Swen Webster Monson

 Swen in nursery, with Isaiah and Seth looking in the window

 Kissy face!

 Rockin' the lion gown!

 With Daddy

 Meeting Mommy for the first time!

 With Mommy

 Finally leaving the hospital after four days. We are tired, but happy!

Mommy snuggle time

 The Webster-Monson Family. Could they be any happier?

The Perfect Name

When a couple learns they are expecting a baby, one of the very first decisions they begin to consider is what the baby's name will be. And though they have several months to decide, most expectant parents begin the discussion immediately. They scour baby name books. They make lists of potential girls' and boys' names. Some wait until after the mid-pregnancy ultrasound, so they can narrow their search by gender, but most at least consider some possibilities earlier than that.

With our oldest two children, ultrasounds weren't routine, so we didn't know the sex of our babies until they were born. Both times, we went to the hospital prepared with two names. In my first pregnancy, those names were "Luke" and "Shulamith." Most people assumed that we chose Luke after St. Luke from the New Testament, but that is not the case. The truth is (don't laugh) there was a hot actor on my favorite soap opera named Luke Spencer, and that's how I first thought of it. As for Shulamith, on the way home from my first prenatal appointment for Luke, we bought a book of 13,000 unusual baby names, and in the car ride home, I flipped through the pages. At a red light, Gerald glanced over at the book and said, "Shulamith! What a beautiful name. It even means 'peace.'" That was the extent of our discussion. We instantly loved the name. It was decided. Our first girl would be Shulamith. We still love the name to this day, except when a few misguided people try to shorten it.

In less than three years, we had two amazing children, Luke and Shulamith. At some point in there, someone enlightened us to the Biblical significance of these names. Okay, yes, we knew Luke was in the Bible, but we had no idea Shulamith was. Sure enough! Right in Song of Solomon, there she is. Some translations refer to her as "the Shulamite woman," but others use her actual name. Who knew? With two Bible names, my CDO (which is OCD alphabetized, as it should be) insisted that all future children also have Bible names. This limited our options considerably, especially for girls. But as you know, we never had another girl, and by this time, routine ultrasonography revealed that mid-pregnancy.

My favorite Bible name has always been Isaiah. I love how it flows off the tongue. I love that it has three syllables but only two consonants. The decision for our third child was easy. The fourth time around, we struggled more. For some reason, I couldn't find another Bible name I liked. Gerald is less picky, so several would have been okay with him, but I just couldn't get my mind around anything. Finally, about the time Eli was due, I knew we were running out of time. We were sitting in Gerald's mother's living room, where we were staying temporarily as we transitioned from California to Washington, and I got out a Bible. I told Gerald this was it. We were going to find a name. We leafed through the pages, saying names aloud, until finally while looking in the Book of Samuel, Gerald said, "How about Eli?" My reply, "Perfect." So I guess you could say I named Luke, Gerald named Shulamith, I named Isaiah, and Gerald named Eli. Sort of.

Seven years later when we were expecting Seth, it was my turn again, and I had many awesome ideas. For some reason, names I passed right over with earlier children suddenly intrigued me. I narrowed it down to two: Thaddeus and Malachi. Obviously, Seth isn't named either of those. Why is that? Because my two older children thought they should have some input this time, and they hated both names. Shulamith was especially vocal about this: "If you name him Thaddeus or Malachi, I will be embarrassed by my own baby brother!" Should I have caved? I don't know. But I did. I settled for Seth, a name I love now because it belongs to him, but one that wasn't a particular favorite back then.

And now Shulamith has her very own baby. She and Matt chose the name Swen Webster Monson for their new little one, a beautiful name, rich in family significance. Lots of people have asked about his first name. Where did it come from? Is it pronounced with a "W" sound or a "V" sound? The name Swen is from Mathew's family. It is Matt's middle name, his father's middle name, and his grandfather's middle name. It might go back even further; I'm not certain. It is pronounced with a "W" sound, not a "V." I like it because, like his mother's name, no one else has it; however, we are already confusing it with Seth. I've called Seth Swen and Swen Seth several times, and a couple times, I've called each of them Sweth! One syllable, four letters, starts with "S." They are just too similar.

Webster, of course, is Shulamith's last name, and Monson is Matt's. So this little boy has a name deep with family roots.

The perfect name!

Ba, Ba, Ba, Means I Love You

How joyous it is when traditions are passed down through families. When I was first born, my grandma made up a song for me. It's called "Ba, ba, ba," and it goes like this:

Ba, ba, ba, means I love you,
Ba, ba, ba, you love me too.
Ba, ba. Ba, ba.

Ba, ba, ba, means I love you,
I love Tannie, yes I do.
Ba, ba. Ba, ba.

I wish she could sing it for you, so you could know the tune, but I guess the words will have to do. She sang it to me first, and then to my brother Tom born two years later. I sang it to all five of my babies, and Tom sang it to his three. My mother also sang it to us and to our children. I even translated it into German, so my babies could be bilingual:

Ba, ba, ba, Ich liebe dich,
Ba, ba, ba, und Du liebst mich.
Ba, Ba. Ba, ba.

This song is precious in our family, mostly because it reminds us of our grandma's love, but the song has also become for us a general symbol of parents rocking their children. All rocking chairs are called "rockie ba ba chairs." When we moved into our house last summer, we bought two rocker/recliners for our TV room. When I sent my mom a picture of the chairs, her text back said, "Two rockie ba ba chairs!" Yep, and that was a whole year before we had a baby living here. When my children were sad or hurt, they would say, "I need to rockie ba ba in the rockie ba ba chair." The song has a life of its own, and it's lovely.

Pictured above is Shulamith sitting in the rockie ba ba chair, singing "Ba, Ba, Ba, Means I Love You" to Baby Swen. How joyous it is when traditions are passed down through families.