One wide-brimmed hat. Check! (Is it really the last time?)

I bought a hat today. I went to Deseret Industries and bought a hat. I had hoped to find more costume pieces, but I really need Seth with me to get the rest, and he's at Lagoon today.

As I exited the store, it occurred to me that this is the very last time I'll shop for costume pieces for a high school musical. I gotta hand it to Hillcrest; they did pick the best musical of all time for Seth's senior year. This November, HHS musical theatre department will present Les Miserables. I can hardly wait.

Even though the show is still four months away, Seth is required to have his peasant costume ready by August 12th for "performing arts boot camp." The search is on! But back to that "last time" stuff. Keep in mind that Eli was in musicals all through high school, and Seth has followed suit, so yeah, it seems like every year for at least the past 80, I've been searching thrift stores for costume pieces.

And I hate it.

Really, I do. It takes so much time and effort to find all these different things and then in all the right sizes. It's not fun at all.

But oh how I will miss it! 

Next year when the musical comes around, Seth could be, well, just about anywhere! He plans to submit mission papers for availability on his 18th birthday, June 14th. I couldn't be any prouder of his decision, but sheesh, what am I gonna do without him? With a full seven years between him and Eli, it's been just Seth and Mom for quite a long time. I've sent two missionaries already, and neither time was easy, but there is no question this time will be harder.

I keep telling myself that a year is a long time. That it won't go fast. I suggest you not be the one to shatter that dream. For now, I'll move forward with my costume search.

One wide-brimmed hat. Check!

Oh and this too! I didn't think we'd ever find the right shirt for the period, so "1-800-Call Grandma!" My mom is an incredible seamstress. Now I know what you're thinking: "That can't possibly be true. Terrianne's mom could never sew." I know, right? But she can. And she's amazing at it. I happen to share neither her natural aptitude or interest for such things, but she is so, so good. I sent her the pictures and the suggested pattern numbers, and she was on it. A week later, we received this very cool shirt in the mail:

Now we just need loose khakis, tall boots, a belt or suspenders, a vest, and possibly a jacket. We'll get there. We always do.

It's going to be an epic senior year. And a long one. Very long. You can be sure I won't miss even the tiniest part of it. I've told Seth I plan to follow his Vocal Ensemble group around to all its performances through the year. That's the beauty of being the last child; mom isn't distracted by anything else. Fortunately, he doesn't mind.

I bought a hat today. One wide-brimmed hat. Check!

Once upon a steak dinner

So a few times throughout each day, either Shulamith or I will turn to the other and say, "Remember that steak dinner?" And we both pause. We pause just for a second, make eye contact, and sigh, "Oh yes!"

Back story, it's not wise for pregnant women to eat under-cooked meat (or cold lunch meat or sushi) because pregnant women are 20 times more likely than the rest of us to develop Listeria, a disease that is very bad for unborn babies and can lead to miscarriage, preterm birth, and a host of other undesirable outcomes. Now Shulamith wouldn't touch sushi with a 10-foot pole, but she really loves cold meat sandwiches and even more, medium-rare steak.

So every pregnancy, she yearns for these two things; what we can't have, we always want most! After every delivery, in addition to other delicious food, I always bring her a steak dinner. And it's always good, and she's always grateful, but with her first two babies, it was never perfect. One time, though I ordered it medium rare, they cooked the steak until it was nearly well done, defeating the entire purpose of eating it (well-done steak pretty much tastes like leather). The other time I think we had eaten a late lunch and weren't hungry enough to fully enjoy the meal.

But this time. Oh. My. Goodness.

Our last night in the hospital, we ate an early lunch and refrained from eating much else all afternoon. At about 9:00 p.m., after the rush of the day was behind us, I went out to Longhorn and ordered us each a Flo's fillet. Let me just say here that I very rarely (pun intended) get the fillet. My dad is now frowning down from heaven because he definitely taught me better. "Terrianne: Always get the fillet!" But at Longhorn, the fillet costs $10 more than a sirloin steak of the same size, and the sirloins are very, very good., so I usually get that (sorry, Dad.)

This time. though, we splurged and got the fillet. It was pretty much life changing. I don't know what more to say about it than that, but I struggle to remember a better meal. Why is that, though?  Could it be because

•  we waited until so late to eat that we were both ravenous?
•  we were both walking zombies by that point, after two nights of little Theodore doing his job as a newborn so perfectly and refusing to sleep much at all?
•  we were in a hospital room, where the food delivered three times a day is so disgusting I don't think even Gerald would eat it?
•  the smashed potatoes and fries (Shulamith) and Caesar salad (me) were the perfect sides to complement a perfect steak?
•  we somehow managed to choose a window of time in which we were left in peace, without doctors, or nurses, or vitals checks, or medication, or shift changes, or malfunctioning monitors, or those poor souls who deliver that disgusting food?

I don't know. I don't have an answer, and I don't need one. For now, the memory of this steak dinner is enough. It was special for both of us, Shulamith, because it was her first steak in nine months, and me because the following day we left the hospital, and I went back on my eating regimen with no breaks for the next five weeks.

Once upon a steak dinner....it was epic.

The Webster-Monsons Become a Party of Five: The Culmination of a Miracle!

I once told you a story about a miracle. If you've forgotten and would like to read it again, here it is.

Two days ago, we experienced the culmination of that miracle, as the Webster-Monsons became a party of five. Mom Shulamith, Dad Mathew, Big Brother Swen, and Big Sister Kennedy welcomed Theodore Webster-Monson to their family.

And I fully breathed.

Perhaps for the first time in eight months.

Shulamith often says she has bad luck. And she's right, at least in some scenarios. In her pregnancy with Swen, she developed HELLP Syndrome, a dangerous form of preeclampsia. HELLP occurs in about .003 of 1% of pregnancies in the U.S. In her third pregnancy, which ended in miscarriage, she had placenta accreta. There aren't any statistics on this one because no one besides Shulamith gets it in the first trimester, post-miscarriage.

I tell you all this in order to explain my ridiculously high levels of anxiety throughout this pregnancy. I mean, seriously, who gets both HELLP Syndrome AND first trimester placenta accreta in the same lifetime? Shulamith Ericha Webster!

So pretty much ever since the day she took the positive pregnancy test...

which, in one of God's tenderest mercies, was the

very day the baby she miscarried would have been due,

  

...I have been a crazy woman. In the first trimester, I worried about another miscarriage. Every. Single. Day. In the second trimester, I worried right up until the 20-week ultrasound about the placement of the placenta.  In the third trimester I worried about HELLP, and by the final month, I worried about pretty much everything! This was most annoying to Shulamith, whose lovely, carefree personality doesn't tend to worry at all.

So, when my friend Candie (who happens to be a nurse here at IMC) wheeled Shulamith out of surgery Friday morning with Baby Webster-Monson (he didn't have a name at that point) in her arms, you can't imagine the overwhelming relief. Shulamith was healthy and well. Her baby was healthy and well. Every muscle in my body felt it; every emotion was released.

A friend once commented, "Terrianne is a fierce mother." It might be the highest compliment I've ever received. Shulamith is also a fierce mom. And brave and protective and patient and kind. She has been through so much in the past year and a half and has proven that, short of risking her life, she'll do anything to get her babies to earth. It reminds me of one of my most favorite songs, "Mom." If you hate country music and the voice of the amazing Garth Brooks, maybe you don't want to open this link? 

But on the other hand....

It's really the sweetest song about babies and moms and God and how we partner with Heaven to give these precious spirits the opportunity for life. So maybe you should just open it and listen anyway:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_RHmNXvAw2c

I've had the pleasure of staying at the hospital these three days with Shulamith, while Matt handles the home front and the two kidlets there. Such a treat to do nothing all day and all night but help Shulamith with her newest little guy, make dozens of trips down the hall to the Diet Coke fountain, run out three times a day for all our favorite food (no, Shulamith does not eat hospital food), and just chill with my bestie and her baby boy.

We will go home tomorrow. Baby Theodore with join Swen and Kennedy as the Webster-Monsons become a party of five.

The culmination of a miracle!

Babymoon: Almost successful and good enough to suffice

Tomorrow morning, Shulamith will go to the hospital for a scheduled C-section delivery of her third baby. While a baby is always wonderful in every way (!), she and I both know the lifestyle limitations a newborn brings. I've had five; she's had two, so yeah, we know. We've been trying to fit in all the things it's impossible (or difficult) to do with a new baby, one last time, before "Baby Webster-Monson" (they're still working on a name) arrives tomorrow.

Earlier this week, we got gel manicures. Today, Matt's mom kindly offered to keep Shulamith's kids, so we could go to the temple. That didn't work out as we'd hoped. Because the Jordan River Temple is closed for renovation, surrounding temples are crazy busy! We arrived at the Oquirrh Mountain Temple, thinking it might be okay on a Thursday morning, but nope, the wait was way too long for an uncomfortable pregnant girl. Dang!

Instead, we went for pedicures (delightful!), followed by a quick trip to Target to pick up some last-minute things Shulamith needed for Baby and some hospital snacks for when I don't feel like going out to get stuff. Then we went to a kid-free, sit-down lunch. In addition to keeping Shulamith's kids, Matt's mom gave us gift cards to Red Robin. Thank you, Dawn! Red Robin is always yummy, but honestly, food just tastes so much better when it's free.

The other "babymoon" thing we wanted to do was go to a movie, but there is seriously nothing playing that we want to see. Nothing. Check for yourself. It's pretty sad.

So no temple and no movie, but still a lovely morning to ourselves before the arrival of Baby Webster-Monson tomorrow morning.

It's about connection

I'd like to introduce you to my friend and personal therapist, Jay Ericksen. To be clear, she is not related to Gerald. Their last names are like homonyms--sound the same but spelled differently.

I met Jay 13 years ago, when we moved from Washington to Billings, Montana. She remembers our first meeting. I don't, but she says it was in the foyer of our church building, one of our first Sundays in the ward. She says 4-year-old Seth was by my side, and through the years as I post updated pictures of him, her mind is always blown because to her, he will always be that 4-year-old little boy. Me too, Jay. Me too.

We barely knew each other when we decided to take a road trip together to Utah. She wanted to visit her sisters here, and I wanted to visit Shulamith, who was in her first year of college at Westminster. I'm still amazed that we decided to do this. Nine hours each way in a car with someone you hardly know?! That comes with the potential for all kinds of scary.

All I can tell you is that trip changed everything. We literally (and I only use that word in its most correct denotation) talked nonstop the entire drive there and back. Let me add one other thing here about Jay. There are so many wonderful things to say about Jay, but this....this! She enjoys driving! That's right, she actually likes to drive. I hate driving, so she gladly drove both ways.

I can't tell you every single thing we talked about in those 18 hours together in my minivan. I'm sure I've forgotten some things, and others--well--therapy is confidential for a reason. Despite fairly different backgrounds and demographics, we discovered important commonalities and connected on a level that parallels few other relationships I have, even some that have been years in the making. In all my trips between Billings and Salt Lake City (and there were way too many to count), I have never felt the time pass so quickly. 

After that trip, we were forever bonded, bonded as friends, bonded as confidants, bonded as each other's "therapist." How incredibly lovely! From that point on, Jay and I continued our "therapy" sessions monthly-ish. Sometimes we'd get busy, and two or three months would go by without one, but that just made it all the more special when we could finally meet. We always went to Applebee's in the Heights, where we'd eat dinner and sit for 3-4 hours.

That all ended in July of 2011, when my family left Billings and moved here. Now our therapy sessions are only once a year and last only a couple hours. I am so thankfu to her for taking the time to see me when she's here visiting family, and equally thankful to her family for graciously letting her go.

One of those yearly therapy sessions happened yesterday. I think the Lord's hand works in our lives far more than we realize, and I think the timing of Jay's trip this year was a tiny tender mercy. I had been feeling extra lonely these past couple weeks, struggling to find my place here in Salt Lake, wondering if I'll ever belong here or if a happy life here will ever be possible. When Jay messaged that she'd be in town this week, I may or may not have jumped right out of my seat and shouted for joy!

The time is never, ever, long enough. Those couple of hours sail by quickly. Somewhere in the middle of our conversation, Jay said, "It's about connection." She is right. Connection is what separates our more superficial relationships from those that endure. Emotional connection is what powers those lasting friendships through the ups and downs of life. I am grateful to have a few of those connections, and so very glad Jay is one of them.

Safe travels back to Billings, Jay. Already looking forward to next year.