Monday, February 13, 2012

Hearts

It's Valentines Day tomorrow... a day to celebrate Love.

The shopping for gifts and cards of days gone by has changed for me.  Don't get me wrong, the celebration of this day is no less important... But, the money spent on treats that sabatoge the New Year's health intention and  the decorations & cards that get thrown away just seem like an oxymoran to the celebration of "Love".


... and hearts, might we celebrate our hearts in the literal sense?  Keeping healthy hearts = self-love, right?

So, I decided to have a little fun creating my Valentines in my everyday routines and forget the shopping, money and cards this year.  Here is what happened over the weekend with this very thought in mind... (ok, so I did not totally adhere to a rigid health kick and found a few sweet and sugary "treats" around the house!)


It started with the cookie cutter I used to make some rolled oatmeal cookies for the Grandkids:


Then proceeded to the breakfast arena, Toast, then French Toast and some cinnamon Toast the way my Mom used to make, where you broil the buttery, sugary topping on the toast!

More and more hearts started appearing throughout the day!
I went for a walk with hearts on my mind on a cloudy, stormy day mixed with sunshine.  This heart jumped out at me and I almost missed it with my camera! It moved and changed so fast!

Walnut Orchard - Central Valley, CA

On to lunch and suppertimes, the hearts continued with little creative tasks inspired by Love....
Potato Salad
Meatloaf - Done!
ready for the oven

Inspiration continued as I started texting my Girlfriend my little Heart displays -



My Valentines are my wishes for us all to find hearts everywhere we look... and to keep our Hearts full of LOVE

Happy Valentines Day!



Saturday, February 4, 2012

Fresh Fruit Presentation!

Fresh Fruit
Credit Bridget Beashbum for putting this photograph up on a FaceBook Post!  Still looking for the origianl photographer/creator for  proper credits.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

California Icycles

Waiting for the rain….. the dry spell surprised us all this winter. It’s not that we want to complain about 65 degree temps in December and January where one can go out for a walk at will, any time of day, sometimes with no jacket. Or that the clear starry nights were not noticed while out and about throughout the Holidays. We were carefree as we had little concern for roads conditions or remembering umbrellas as we dashed out the door.

Those of us that live in Rural Farmtown America know better than most the weird twist and costly risk of this type of weather pattern. Established orchards that lack rain and water slowly dry out to the point that a hard freeze can be fatal. Twenty degree mornings will have their effect on the trees and the cost of no water will eventually hit us all in the pocketbook.

An occasional wintery site will result from farmers scrambling to save their trees as the irrigation is turning on to keep the soil moist only to result in freezing water for those magic few hours of the early morning. It creates a visual excitement amongst the townspeople as they scurry about to work and to school. An area that sees no snow form year to year suddenly is graced with icycles glistening in the sunlight.
  
A little winter magic…. As we are waiting for the rain…..

Wallnut Orchard in Central Valley, CA


Sunday, January 15, 2012

24 years....

"I prayed for my babies, I prayed for myself, I prayed for my family."

Now that my Triplets have reached the 24 year milestone, I have finally gotten around to dusting off the old 1990 issue of the Triplet Connection Newsletter to post online.

Here is my story.....           

I prayed with such intensity! There I was, once again in my doctor's office, trying to make some sense of the waves on the sonogram screen. Why was I threatening a miscarriage after all we had been through? “Please” I prayed, “Let me have this baby!”


We heard the doctor say, “There are three embryos!” Triplets? I looked at my husband in disbelief. My first words were “I want them all! What are their chances?”


Could this really be happening to us? The Doctor and nurse were really excited. The sonogram showed cardiac activity from each of the three engross. While my doctor explained some of the risks of mufti-fetal gestation and pre-term labor, we both knew that we were committed to do anything we could to ensure the lives of these three.

As victims of secondary infertility and its emotional trauma, “Why us?” was a question we regularly asked ourselves. After successfully conceiving one child we were amazed to learn that we might never be able to have more children. I was torn between decisions I never thought I'd have to make. How far are we willing to go to have a baby?

After two years of charts, tests and treatments, we decided to use a fertility drug (Pergonal) to achieve conception. This was probably our last hope to have another baby. Were we wrong to want more children when so many childless couples would be happy to have just one?

We wondered if we were “playing God' as we carefully weighed the risks of using Pergonal (Increased risk of multiple conception, increased possibility of miscarriage, etc.) I was sure our son was not meant to be an only child. We asked ourselves, and we ask God, “Why us?

We considered adoption. To have the opportunity to love and provide for another child would be the answer to our prayers. As we explored our options the subject of adoption opened up a whole new set of questions and disagreements for my husband and me. Could we take the risk of adopting and loving the child only to have the birth mother reclaim parental rights/ Could we deal with an “open adoption” and possible involvement with the birth parents? What kind of problems would we encounter if we adopted as older child? We felt a little guilty when we thought about adopting a baby when so many childless couples were waiting so long to adopt. We also felt out chances of being chosen as adopting parents would not be good because we already had a “natural” child.

Another year of waiting, hoping and praying went by. This was to be my last month of drug therapy. The expense of treatment, and the physical and emotional stress involved, was taking a toll on our family. To complicate things further, we had to deal with a nation-wide Pergonal shortage, never knowing for sure if enough of the drug would be available to finish the month of treatment we had started.

Finally, we achieved pregnancy! I was going to have a baby! We were thrilled, but terrified at the mere thought that the pregnancy might not be a successful one. My doctor was confident that this was a single fetus pregnancy, as I was carefully monitored before and after conception, and every precaution was taken to avoid mufti-fetal pregnancy.

When complications began at seven weeks gestation, I was terrified! Once again the question, “Why us?” was my constant tormentor. Was a miscarriage going to be the end result of all we had been through? Did I have the stamina to continue fertility therapy now that we knew conception was possible? I desperately wanted another child!

And Now the reality of triplets! There was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. How much risk was involved? Would they survive? Could my family and I manage three babies? While I was experiencing fear for what was to come, there was also an overwhelming feeling of joy and honor that I was chosen to be the mother of triplets. I knew at that moment that my family had something very special – that we were being given this rare opportunity.

The next day I began to research triplet pregnancies. I wanted to know everything I could about my condition and what was to come. It seemed that little was known about multiple gestation and how to insure a healthy outcome. I found very limited information available through our library. In one book about twins there was an address for the “Center for Multiple Gestation.” I wrote to them and received information about the “Triplet Connection,” a national non-profit support and informational service for parents of higher multiples. This organization provided us with answers to our questions, and help with every phase of our situation. We carefully monitored and took life saving precautions, determined to have the bests possible outcome.

At twenty weeks gestation (only half way through a term pregnancy) I began to show signs of pre-term labor. I was recommended bed rest and an oral medication (Terbutaline) to reduce contraction activity. It was much too soon for our babies to be born. Every day became a milestone towards the possibility of healthy babies.

I read all I could about premature babies. Prior to bed rest we had taken tours of two hospital neon-natal intensive care wards. I talked with many doctors and nurses on the phone, as we tried to prepare ourselves for all the possibilities we might face. I contacted other parents of triplets and found our conversations to be inspirational. Everyone I spoke to agreed about one thing – we would need a tremendous amount of help.

The search began for a support network in our community. This was most challenging because we weren't sure of exactally what kind of help we would need. By making our situation known to neighbors and friends, we were fortunate to receive an overwhelming amount of support and including: prepared meals for my family, child-care for my four-year-old son, rides to my doctor, and later, volunteers who helped me feed my babies while my husband was at work.

At twenty-three weeks gestation I had my third sonogram to monitor fetal development. My doctor found baby “C” to be considerably smaller than babies, “A” and “B.” This was a major concern , because it is common to have a weaker baby in the case of super twins, and often the smaller fetus must fight harder for nourishment as the stronger, larger fetuses use most of the supply provided. It was very soon to detect such a difference in size. Baby “C” would also be at risk during the birth process due to her position as the last of the three to be born. People we didn't even know were praying for our babies, and especially for baby “C.”

As the thirty-fourth week approached, we couldn't help but feel fairly confident that the babies would be in reasonably good condition. Baby “C” had caught up in her growth, and the sonograms showed good fetal development. The in-home monitor that I used daily showed continually decreasing contraction activity. I was in extreme discomfort, and it was apparent that my body would not be able to handle much more of the babies rapid growth.

Acting on the theory that my uterus had become so distended that it had lost its ability to contract, we agreed that I would have to be scheduled for a cesarean section delivery. The big question was when? Waiting too long could be even more disastrous for my babies and myself.

We scheduled surgery for January 15, 1988. My due date was February19. The babies would be at 35 weeks gestational age. We knew we would not be taking the home for some time because they would need special care in the neo-natal intensive care unit (NICU). My doctor, husband, and I hoped that this would have the least possible risks considering all factors.

That night we prayed that we were making the best possible decision. I prayed for my babies, I prayed for myself, I prayed for my family. If our outcome was not good, would I always blame my self for using Pergonal to conceive? I wanted my babies to be healthy, I wanted to keep them together, and I wanted to take them home.

The big day finally arrived. The operating room was packed with people. Each baby had to have its own pediatrician/neo-natoligist, resperatory therapist and nurse. Counting the surgical staff, the anesthesiologist, my husband, the babies and me, there were twenty one people present. I elected to have an epidural, so I was awake for the event.

It was 6:30 a.m. On a r ainy morning and I remember asking the doctors if they had made time to have theircoffee. My husband was at my side all the way, We were ready!

Desiree Leanne was born at 6:50 a.m., weighing 4 pounds 8 ounces. She was whisked away immediately and though the anesthesiologist turned my head, all I saw was a blur. Joseph J, arrived at 6:51 weighing 5five pounds. I got to reach our and touch his foot as he was taken to his isolette. The placenta was tearing away prematurely, and baby “C” had to come out fast. The doctor reached in and pulled her out by her feet. Cassandra Michelle was born 6:53 a.m. and weighed 4 pouinds , 5 ounces, a very pink, healthy baby.

Desiree and Joseph had to go on ventilators for a couple of days, but when I left the recovery room the nurse wheeled me right into the NICU and put Cassandra in my arms. She was one hour old, and she was beautiful! I longed to hold my other babies.

The excitement in the hospital that day was incredible. The staff was wonderful. Most of the nurses and doctors who were in the OR came to visit me later. By the time my doctor came back, my room was filled with flowers and balloons. He was happy that the babies were doing so well, and told me I couldn't have carried them much longer because the right side of my uterus was stretched so thin that it could have ruptured at any moment at any moment. What a relief to know that the timing was just right.

It was three days before we got to hold Desiree or Joseph, but we touched them and talked to them whenever we came into the room. When we finally held them it was indescribable to have such an intense bond with each of our three babies. We knew that this experience was a very unique gift from God.

The two weeks we spent with our babies in the NICU ward gave us a whole new perspective of life. The babies we saw fighting for their lives, the families we met, and the commitment of the NICU staff was such an inspiration. We laughed and we cried and and felt a very closeness to people we hardly knew and probably would never see again. We knew that this time in our lives would always be more than just a memory.

Cassandra came home 10 days after her birth. She weighed four pounds and wore doll cloches. Somehow, with the help of my mother, we managed to care for her and make the 80 mile round trip to the hospital to feed and hold Desiree and Joseph every day. Having had very little sleep, and still recovering from surgery, I found this to be more exhausting than having them all home to care for. Fortunately Desiree and Joseph were discharged together four days later.

My dream had come true. They were healthy, we were all together, and we were
home!

Watching our babies grow has been an incredible privilege. At first I feared for their well being as individuals. But now it is apparent to me that they are indeed separate individuals with a special relationship to one another. When I watch them play I am convinced that being a super-twin is a rare and wonderful gift. I am constantly reminded of what could have been, and just how blessed we are.

As their first birthday approached, I found myself reflecting on the past five years, and how I had come full circle. There was a part of my infertile self that would never be forgotten. I now had a special understanding of the infertility crisis and how devastating it can feel. This experience has given me more endurance and patience than I ever had before.

Being a mother of four healthy children is not something I take for granted. It gives me great joy to have my family tackle the enormous responsibility of life with triplets. We are tired at the end of each day, but feel a sense of accomplishment and purpose that is hard to describe.

I am currently a member of the Board of Directors for “The Triplet Connection,” and am deeply committed towards helping to improve the quality of life for multiples and their families.

I hope each of my children will love each other as exceptional individuals, and that our family will always appreciate how extraordinary it is to be blessed with three children at one time.



Monday, December 26, 2011

Occupy - 2012


This is the year I will occupy 2012.  Yep… my own occupy movement is underway.  It is not so much that I am disgruntled, have grudges, or need to make my demands… It is more about choosing the changes and knowing exactly where I want to go with my reactions to what the year may present.


I am occupying the year to make it count.  When I am very old and look back over my lifetime, 2012 is going to stand out in my memory.  Maybe I will view it as pivotal, a time when I decide that I will make changes for the better.   A time that I will be grounded in what my true purpose is. I am thinking that I will choose my responses to new experiences with a quality of eager motivation, less by obligation and expectations.

It took many years to create who I am today.  No more wishy-washy handwringing questions asking, “Who am I? Why am I here?” My occupation consists of my true authenticity.  There is a profound reason that I get to greet another New Year – my existence is a small but important piece in a much larger puzzle.

As I occupy 2012, I will trust my instincts and my gut.  I am still learning how this phenomenon serves me. My intent is to recognize it and trust it. That “feeling” may not be foolproof, but it has guided me out of some sticky situations in years past.  In 2012, it has my full attention!

During my occupation, I will tend to my garden and my soul.  Both need constant care and cultivation.  While never fully completed, the tasks will keep me very busy for yet another year.

Encouragement will occupy my interactions with others.  I do not have to know the full effect that my encouraging words might have on another person.  Encouragement has powerful results even though it is so easy to offer it to someone that passes through my day.  The power?  Well, I trust it makes everything better for all of us.  There is not one of us that does not benefit from someone else’s simple, encouraging remark.

Charitable contributions will keep content in my everyday. My acts of charity will not be limited to monetary gifts, defined causes and percentages.  Each new day presents opportunity for this type of occupation.  I am determined to notice it, recognize it and step up to the plate as I am invited.

This year I am not going to wish my friends and loved ones are perfect… or that they always have my best interests at heart. The reality of love is that it transcends these “tests” of relationships. I invite love to fully occupy my heart and mind. It is my desire to love… and this decision will help me to overcome the challenges of relating with others and honoring our right to have  differences.

This year will be occupied with my negativity being kept in check.  My actions and words shall be chosen carefully. I plan to make my own truths considerate of others and their feelings.  My thoughts will minimize fear based thinking; my heart will keep soft places for tons of love and compassion as I view my surroundings.

My occupation includes more humor… sometimes I get stuck because I view circumstances with  a most serious spirit of trying to “figure it all out” instead of simply being amused by what I observe – yep, more humor in 2012!

I will occupy my nights by noticing moonbeams and seeing the bright stars in the sky.  Sunshine and rain and clouds remind me that it is not up to me to orchestrate everything that happens in a day – what a relief!

Yes, consider the year 2012 to be occupied.  At least 99% plus… by my choices, determination and with my eyes eagerly wide-open to the possibilities.  I am not budging!  And, I am betting there will be many who will join me.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

The Year I Threw Mary & Joseph Away

When I was a child, our family embraced and celebrated many customs and family traditions. These Rituals made me feel happy inside. They kept our family unity constant over the years. We all knew that we could count on those special things - ceremonies, decorations and the making of traditional special foods and cookies year after year. Holidays became family centered even during the toughest times.

Once I grew up, I brought these traditions into my own family, adding more each year to the busy-ness of it all. We added yet another string of lights and I found more recipes to try. There were scheduled Holiday customs like going to the mountains to cut down our Christmas tree on a wintery day. I knew it was important for my children to grow up with these family bonding experiences the same way I had.

Setting out the Nativity was a sacred part of decorating for Christmas. The cherished set my parents had would be handled so carefully as not to break the ceramic figuines. Over the years, I had collected my own beautiful Fontinini Nativity set, piece by piece. I cherished the set for its beauty and its usability. The figurines would allow little hands to pick up them up and play with them with no fear of breakage. I would never have to scold children for handling the pieces or tell them “not to touch”. As more pieces were added, the absence of a third wise man did not bother me. How do we know there were three wisemen anyhow? No one really knows for sure.

Angels became another collection of significance as I became so aware of their existence through miracles I had witnessed and lived through. One Christmas, I wrote about the presence Angels in my life and shared it with family and friends. Soon, relatives began presenting me with angel figurines of all types! It warmed my heart to see the angels all over our house, reminders of God’s protection.

Our storage boxes were growing in number and with that, the added tasks of putting out, hanging up, taking down and putting away until the next year. Trying to make all of our favorite kinds of Christmas cookies became a burden while trying to get the family off to services and performances. Nevertheless, persevere I did, all in the effort to keep “more” of the *Magic*.

Occasionally an ornament would break, maybe one from when I was a child. Often an old school project decoration made by my child’s little hands would be found crumbling in the bottom of the box. I experienced different levels of heartache with each loss depending on the sentiment attached to the item.

One particular year changed everything - our family broke apart. The big “D”. I knew that our customs and traditions were needed more than ever, especially for the children. But, with each one came a painful realization of what had just been “lost”. The memories, even the happiest ones, would bring each of us to tears at one time or another… We all forged ahead in spite of the changes and each of us tried to keep our chins up and go forward, believing that Christmas *Magic* is about more than just our memories of the past.

Over time, there were new friends, new loves and new places to go. I slowly started to crave simplification and ease with how we would move through our Holidays and Family Traditions. I recognized a need to create space to embrace the new. This became especially important as I remarried and our family took on another new shape.

Little by little, I started weeding out the more ordinary mementos from the massive collections stored in boxes and bins that were marked “Xmas”. Hanging on to so many things was not giving me that satisfaction that I once thought it would. I gave away some ornaments and some of the homemade projects were boxed and thrown in the trashcan. It was somewhat sad, but also liberating. The progress was slow, but the paring down continued spurred on by the realization that we had just “hung on” to too much and that all that “stuff” was just bogging us down. No one missed the items that were gone… No one was asking where it all went.

One year, as I unpacked my beautiful Fontanini Nativity, I could not find Mary and Joseph! As I frantically tore through old boxes and the wrappings, a realization hit my heart with the impact of a sledgehammer. I knew what had happened. In my quest to downsize the decoration inventory, I had accidentally thrown out a box that the Mary and Joseph figurines had been placed in the year before. I was horrified! How would I explain this to my future little grandchildren as they were learning the Christmas story? That their Grandma had “lost” the little Baby’s parents?!

It took me a while to see the significance of my sad loss. At first, I was afraid to display the Baby Jesus without Mary and Joseph present to take care of their Little One. It seemed sacrilege to put out an incomplete set. Then, over time, I reasoned that the Angel, the Sheppard, the Wise Men and even the awestruck barn animals had the Baby Jesus’ back. Surely, they will take care of him in the absence of his parents.

I looked in stores to replace the missing figurines only to find that the set that I had was currently unavailable. This left me to struggle with the phenomenon, year after year. I continued to place the incomplete set out for display and found that its beauty still took my breath away. It told the story even though Mary and Joseph were missing. My admission of my error of why there are missing figurines told to wondering little faces will someday assure them that I am human, make mistakes and have regrets. The story of the Nativity will still be told, the way it should be.

During these years, I discovered that it is not up to me to keep the “constant” of the Holidays for myself or anyone else… nor can I “create” a perfectly complete Christmas. There is a gift in accepting that there will be more evolving circumstances and that changes will occur as the years roll by. Many people travel through our lifetime… And, the mistakes, the losses, the changing customs – it is all OK. The real Christmas *Magic* remains. It is constant. And the real “Gift” is to Believe.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Pumpkin Seed Roasting


Fall is here and with the cool winds and falling leaves come the smells from the oven as the cooking gravitates from the outside BBQ into the kitchen.  Home centered projects leave one to feel content to be inside.
One annual kitchen project is the roasting of the pumpkins ... and the seeds!

My son came to help make Jack-O-Lanterns and expanded on my seed roasting method this year.  The additions of a little olive oil and another sprinkling of salt made the seeds better than ever! 

I am often asked how to go about roasting the seeds, an important part of carving Jack-o-lanterns as well as a side job on the same day that I roast the pumpkins for pies.

My step-by-step method goes like this:

1. Separate the seeds form the pumpkin "guts" and rinse the seeds in a collander.


2. Boil the seeds in a saucepan with water to cover and add about 1/3 cup sea salt.
3. Simmer 20 minutes (do not let it boil over).
4. Strain and let the excess water drip off.
5. Spread onto a cookie sheet and roast at 175 degrees ("convect roast" if you have a setting, bake is fine if you don't).
6. Stir the seeds about every 20 minutes.
7. After about an hour, drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle a little more sea salt - stir some more and again about every 20 minutes for about 2 more hours.


Once the pumpkin seeds are dry and a little brown, roasty looking, they are ready to put into jars... or eat!