The death of me.

I've heard it said that people have known how they would die before the event actually happened.
I tend to be a believer that no man knows when their last breath will be, simply because .... that's the Lord's doing.

That said.
Ants will be the death of me.

I swear.
Okay, maybe I don't. But....man they make me want to.


The story that started it all....

Jessica Scott

I grew up going to church since the second grade and got baptized when I was 13 years old. I didn’t really make a true commitment to the Lord until I was at camp with my youth group in 1995. I was 16 years old. The Lord had really done a lot in my heart previous to that breaking point in my life.

When I was 15 years old my best friend of 8 years had passed on to be with the Lord. I was devastated. That was one of the main things that turned me to the Lord. I realized that I was not invincible and that horrible stuff did happen to young girls.

The next time that I went to camp, the Lord really worked on my heart and it was there that I surrendered to him.

Unfortunately that’s not the end of it. I went away to Bible College when I was 17 years old. When I came back I did a spiral fall down a dark tunnel. I moved out of my parent’s house (I was 18 years old), only to move back in about 7 months later. During that time away I did things that I am not proud of, but I am forgiven of.

On October 31, 1998 I gave my life back to the Lord and even though I've had dark moments, and times when my faith was weak, the Lord has consistently been my rock. My strength. My deliverer. He will not fail me.


Have you ever wondered what it takes for someone to make it big?
To have all of their dreams come true?
What did they do to get there? Who did they know?

I hear stories of people who were from "the wrong side of the tracks", and who had horrible lives growing up, and with just 50 bucks they were able to get to Hollyweird - erm...sorry, Hollywood, and "luck" was with them. They were strummin a song on their beat up Fender while sitting on the corner, some big music exec walks by and says "YOU'RE IT KID!" or whatever.

I don't know how it happens, I don't know how they make it. I just want a chance.
I don't want to be famous. Well, that's a lie. It'd be nice, I'll be honest. More then anything, I'd like to just get out of this rat race, and really not have to worry about finances.

I'd like to be able to look at buying my husband a nice recording software program for his laptop, and not try & figure out how I can swing it. Or, to be able to buy all organic groceries.

I'm not complaining, because I am so happy with my life right now...but it seems like ... no matter how much we get in life, we always want more. We're never satisfied.

I want my husband to have a chance, even more than me. I want his dreams to be fulfilled. He's not had it easy in life, he's overcome alot, and turned out to be an amazing man who fills my heart to the brink of capacity. I want him to experience raw joy. The amazing natural high that one gets from having a lifelong dream being fulfilled.

How do I do it?
Do I call, write, email people until they have to block me? No. I'm not that kind of person.

So what do I do?
He's written a book, an amazing book. I want to help him get it published, but how?!
I'd love for him to get a signed record label, but how? We don't have to money for him to record anything to send out. So how do we do it?

Uuuuuuuuuuug. I just .... It just.... I don't know. I feel like I can't even put it into words.
There are people who are famous...for what? For nothing! Paris Hilton? She's the daughter of a multi millionaire, so she's the one who gets to record an album. I'm not saying it's a good one. But I'm also not a music critic. I do know what I like, and her album is not in that category. Far from it.

There are people who have absolutely no talent, and yet are worth millions, and I just...don't....get it.


I just needed to scream.

Didn't help.


The Miracle That is My Son.

I found out that I was pregnant on Dec. 13th, 2002. My first son was 6 months old, and I was 6 weeks pregnant. Not prepared, but still excited, we told our friends and family members.

Two weeks later I woke up in the middle of the night and was lying in a pool of blood. We rushed to the ER, where we were told that my body was attempting to abort my child. With sorrow beyond comprehension, we were sent home and waited for the pains. They never happened. The next day I went to the Dr, where they did an U/S and heard the most beautiful sound. A strong heartbeat, coming from the strongest baby I've ever known.

I was sent home on bed rest. After 8 weeks I was given the OK to go on home and resume normal daily activities.

Two weeks later, on Sunday March the 16th 2003, I went to the mall with a younger cousin. While there I got a blinding migraine, causing me to lose sight in my right eye.

We went home, where I rested and slept off and on throughout the rest of the day. On Monday morning, March 17th at 2:45 am I woke up laying in a puddle, of what I feared was blood. I got up, went to the bathroom, and it was clear. I figured the baby had just pressed against my bladder, and changed the sheets, got back in bed. Something wouldn't allow me to go back to sleep, so I called my Dr and explained that I felt like something was wrong. I don’t remember our conversation, all I remember is the Dr telling me that I needed to go to the ER, again.

Off we rushed, fear pounding in our hearts. Upon arrival they do a strip test and find that it was actually my water. I had PROM (Premature Rupture Of Membranes). I was 18 weeks. I was also informed that we were having another son.

Devastated, we are told to go home and wait for him to die. We tell the Dr’s that we cannot accept that, and asked for a referral to a Perinatologist.

We are given a number, and a message from the Dr. The message was not one of hope. We head home, to give the horrible news to our family, who had gathered in our living room at this point.

The contractions have started, and my worst fear is coming true. The pains were even stronger in my heart, as I felt it shattering into a million little pieces. At 9 o’clock in the morning, my husband and I get in the car and head to the perinatologist’s office without an appointment.

Upon arrival we give them our name, and they rushed us right in. We waited for about 5 minutes, and the Dr walked in. Within minutes we were confident that we had made the right choice in seeing this Dr, as he was a fellow Christian who not only prayed with us, but read us a scripture that brought us much hope!

I was put on strict bed rest, allowed to shower ONCE a week, had to use a bedside commode, and was seeing weekly for ultrasounds and water level measuring.

After 5 weeks of being rushed to the ER two to three times a week, due to my Terbutaline pills failing to stop contractions, they decided to admit me into the hospital. At 23 weeks I was informed that, should I progress into full blown labor, they would not have a NICU team at the birth, because a baby is not considered viable until 24 weeks gestation.

A week passes, and the NICU doctors are brought in to consult with my husband and I. We are informed of who would be in the delivery room in regards to the medical staff (including how many members of the NICU transit team), what would happen, and what did we want to do if certain things were to happen. Or not happen. I was also given the 2 shots of steroids, to help strengthen my angel’s lungs.

We made prior arrangements that my mom would be in the delivery room, as well, knowing full well that my husband would go be with our Son.

Mother’s Day that year was on May 11th. It was my first mother’s day. And one of the worst days of my life. I went into full blown labor, but the contractions were not picking up on the monitor. I was told that I was imagining things.

The night passed rather painfully, with only more terbutaline pumped into my system, causing me to not sleep. The next day I was so grumpy and frustrated. I felt unheard, and I felt like the nurses were frustrated with me, thinking that I was over exaggerating. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, I was not.

That night, at 11:50 PM I started bleeding again.

The Dr that was on call came in, checked me, and said that I wasn’t dilating or effacing, at all. I was given a ton of meds for the pain, and something else to help sedate me, as I was becoming near hysterical.

After a short night of sleep, I woke up to pain beyond anything I could imagine. I called my husband, and he dropped our son off w/my parents, and rushed over. I was wheeled into L&D, and they hooked up the internal monitor, where they realized that my contractions (which were still not picking up on the external monitor) were off the charts.

They checked me at 8:00 a.m. and I was dilated to 1. The pains became even crazier, and more intense, taking my breath, making me scream. Five minutes later I was checked again and was dilated to an 8.

They hurriedly did the epidural, and were literally running down the hall, pushing me in the gurney as I screamed “I Need to push, I need to push.” We got into the delivery room, they hooked up all the necessary machine. The NICU transport arrived, everything was set up.

And it all came to a screeching halt. After 20 minutes of waiting, the NICU transport team went back to their hospital, and we waited. About 10 minutes later, his heart rate plummeted with a contraction. It was down in the region around 30 – 40 bpm. Frantic movement and harried nurses became a blur, as I realized my baby was struggling for life.

The NICU Team came back, I was prepped for surgery, where they did an emergency c-section, took my baby, and whisked him away. I saw him from across the room as they were resuscitating his precious life. Then I saw him once more, as they wheeled him past me in his isolette.

After an excruciating 4 hours in the Recovery room, due to unstable blood pressure, I was finally sent back to my room. 30 minutes later, just got settled in my bed, a nurse comes rushing in and tells me that they need me to get into a wheelchair, my son is dying, and I need to say goodbye. I struggled for 20 minutes to sit in a wheelchair, but I couldn’t. My stomach had been torn apart, my muscles severed. It was impossible.

The nurses in the anti-partum unit called the NICU where they were given the go ahead to transport me in the gurney.

I was rushed across the street in my gurney, taken to the third floor NICU, and wheeled into a room full of bleeping and breathing machines. None of it made sense, and I was in a morphine induced fog. I sobbed as I couldn’t get close enough to my baby. I couldn’t touch, or hold him. I couldn’t whisper strengthening words of encouragement to his precious ears. I laid in my bed and sobbed.

My sons pod was completely void of parental units, as is custom when a baby is going to die. The only other people in the room were the NICU Dr’s, a handful of nurses, my beloved husband, and myself.

After a few hours I asked to be taken to my room, where I laid and waited for the news that my son died.

The news never came.

He grew stronger, but was still near death, over the next week. I was discharged from the hospital, and my husband and I took our oldest son and moved into the Ronald MacDonald house. Exactly 1 week later, I was changing at the House, and got a phone call from the hospital. I was told that I needed to get to the hospital as quickly as possible, as my son was dying again, and needed to have surgery within the next few hours. Death was imminent.

He had NEC – I can’t spell the exact term, but it was a hole in his intestines that was leaking air into his stomach and entering his blood system, causing him to be toxic.

They did surgery, and he had a colostomy bag for 5 months. The same day of the surgery they diagnosed him with Bilateral Grade III IVH’s. IVH is Interventricular Hemorrhage. Grade IV (four) is considered to be death or severe mental delays. For my son to have two grade three’s, and to have them self resolve, and for him to have absolutely no residual problems as a result, is a miracle.

In my son’s first year of life he experienced 6 chest tubes, the brain bleeds, two surgeries, 12 blood transfusions, almost died Four times…and was touched by God for ever.

During the trial of our son's first 74 days of life my husband wrote a poem for our Son and I want to share it with all of you:

God is good Tobias; He really is you see,
He's blessed my wife and I with you; you're here alive breathing.
I know its hard my child with every breath you take,
but son I really love you I'm here no matter what it takes.
My heart it aches with sorrow for all you have gone through,
you've had such a rough start Tobias and its getting harder too.
I don't know what tomorrow holds, will you be there with me?
I long to hold you in my arms please give all your pain to me.
My God's a God of comfort He'll hold you in His arms,
for I am weak with pain and grief and He has held me this far.
I pray that you won't pass away, but Tobi, if you do . . .
I trust that you will see my God and He will hold you too.

Bill Wayne Scott
Copyright ©2003
Bill Wayne Scott

My son will be celebrating his 4th birthday this year. A celebration that I never thought we’d experience with this wee one.

My reason for sharing his story with you, is not because I want you to feel bad. Nor do I want pity or sympathy.

Every year, half a million babies in the U.S. are born prematurely. Premature birth is the leading cause of newborn death and many life long disabilities. The funds we raise in WalkAmerica support research that saves babies' lives.


1/27/05 11:45pm

Earlier this week I was looking for something, and I came across my old journal. Here is the journal entry from this date.

Well, Lord. Here I am again. Wishing, hoping, and praying that I could just wake up and this would all be a surreal nightmare.
I am 24 1/2 weeks pregnant, and on bedrest...yet again.

There are so many emotions that I am filled with right now that I feel as if I am going to explode.

I have a few requests that I ask of you tonight.

1) That You would sustain me and keep me from the bitterness that I had when pregnant w/Tobias.

2) That Mercy would not have to spend more than 1 week in the hospital, able to come home healthy and happy.

3) OREGON! Work it all out. I do not want to be away from Bill, but want to have our daughter here, in Orange County.

Thank You.

You might notice that I ended with "Thank You." I prayed these requests with full assurance that He a) not only HEARD my petitions, but He cared about my requests, and b) He would answer according to His will. I'm not saying that I know that my heart was aligned with His will at that moment in time, but I knew that He would do whatever was necessary in every situation.

Let me update you on those requests that I had cried out.

1) The Lord blessed us with a wonderful nanny the duration of my bedrest and she was such a joy and blessing in my life. She didn't allow me to wallow in my bed all day, she would encourage me to come out into the living room, where the sun was bright & shining. She would bring the boys into my room, and they would lay in bed and snuggle with me. The Lord used her mightily in answer to this prayer. At times I would allow the bitterness to creep in, but as quick as a flick of the broom, it was swept away with the joy of sunshine that Linda brought into my life.

2) Mercy was in the hospital 7 days, after she was born. Exactly. And she is bar FAR the healthiest, and exceedingly happy in all things. She is such a joyful child, always armed with a smile and blue eyes, she can melt any heart.

3) Oregon. Well...we're here. The Lord worked that one out...so perfectly. The very day that I went into labor Bill got the job offer. They asked him if he could be up in two weeks. The kids and I followed a week after him.

The Lord is so unbelieveably faithful, friends. Sometimes we think He doesn't hear us. But He does. Sometimes we think He's forgotten us, when He's actually there, waiting for us to stop with our busyness, and to quiet our hearts and listen to Him. He is always speaking. In a still, small voice. You just need to quiet everything around you to hear It.


Bad Blogger!

For shame!!!!!
I've been gone so long, that they are now out of Beta?! What the heck does that mean?

One would think that, with the amount of insomnia that I've had, I would be ridiculously inspired. Exhaustion to the point of near hysteria would normally make one see the humor in things that are normally mundane, boring, and so yawn worthy. Not that I've needed that. Our weather has been freakishly cold, we got 4" of snow in one day. For those who do not know, we normally get 4" in a year. That was quite exciting. Life just came to a grinding halt, and it was fabulous!

I love everything about snow. Except how stupid people drive in it. I love to watch snow fall, and to catch it on my tongue. The boys loved learning how to do this! I love making snowmen and dressing them up. Bill made so many snowmen on our property that it was...like a snowfamily here. We had three out front, and there out back. One was even hanging out in our swing. ;) I love how peaceful everything seems when covered with a beautiful blanket of the white stuff. Soft and fluffy, perfect for making snow angels, and having snowball fights. All the hustle bustle noise is muted, the cruch of tire (or tyre for my english friends) over gravel sounds more like a barrel rolling across a fluffy cloud. There is just no noise.

Except the glee and giggles escaping the mouths of the children. Not just mine. Mine squealed, and laughed, and ran, and played, and threw snow at eachother, and ate the snow. They rode their 4 wheeler around and around, daddy making them spin out. The joy that radiated from their faces, the wonder as they learned the way to really play in snow, and the thrill of tasting the snow. Not that it has a taste, but holy cow do they love to eat it.

one of my friend's daughter wouldn't go back in to the house, so they had to bribe her with a bowl of snow to eat inside. LOL

I love snow.
I've always wanted to live somewhere that snowed.

And now I do!


The day that got away...

Bill is at Youth Group tonight, and I have been meandering through various Myspace profiles, just checking people out. I am such a people watcher.

Anyways...After looking at a few pages of people that always appear to be so happy....I've realized. Nothing is as it seems. Ever. Except for the Lord. He is always faithful, and trust, righteous, and true. Noble and loving, forgiving, and steadfast. His ways do not change. But ours do.

All of the time. Circumstances, people, conversations, a person cutting us off on the freeway, a Dr's diagnosis, a mouthy child, a sleepless night, a broken down car, a financial set back, and so many other things truly affect (or is it effect? I always get those two confused) us in our daily lives. The aforementioned happenings are only the negatives that just brushed the top of my mind. Those are the things that would send me in a tailspin through the rest of my day.

For example....tonight Bill is at Youth Group (I like to repeat myself, apparently), and Thursday nights usually just suck. The kids are normally super cranky, nothing goes right, I'm normally in a foul mood from the days happenings (yes, I am so easily swayed by other people's actions & words). Today was different. I've tried and worked very hard to maintain a positive outlook. It's not been a fun day, by any stretch of the imagination, yet I've been trying to stay focused on the Lord.

The kids & I were upstairs cleaning their room, and I was on the phone w/an old friend from High School. Mercy was actually...making a mess, but I digress. I glanced over at her, and noticed a HUGE spider hanging RIGHT ABOVE HER HEAD!!! I screamed, grabbed her by the arm, and yanked her behind me. Causing her to panic, because...well...Mommy never acts like that. Seriously, I think it was Spiderman's long lost cousin who got hooked on steroids, this thing was THAT huge. Again, I digress....
I grab a pair of my slippers that were upstairs, and attempt to kill the mammoth sized arachnid that was invading my home, my sanctuary...MY HOME! I brought the slipper down from above, and smooshed it into the floor. With a triumphant shout of glee I pulled the slipper back up...and the spider was gone!! What the heck?! I frantically look up and down, I take off my sweatshirt, and shake out my jeans. I'm looking under dressers, and peering down the stairs to see if I could see that monstrosity making a quick getaway.
To no avail.
He simply...disappeared.

And I became obsessed. I moved both dressers, and I got rid of a ton of clothes...I cried, I screamed. I panicked. I scared my children because of my behaviour, and everything I had worked so hard for today...my attempt to make tonight go nice & smooth...it all came to a grinding halt. I yelled at my children, and ended up making myself sick with worry.

All over a stupid spider.

And it was all Satan. I realize this now....hindsight & such....it's a beautiful thing. Satan hates the fact that I have been victorious today, in taking my thoughts captive. He despises me, my children, my husband, my life, my Lord. He desires to destroy me. And He knows what arsenal to break out with when the going gets tough...and he did, tonight.

So...the kids are sleeping, my brain is fried, and I'm going to go drink a cup of Tea, work on a gift, and watch TV.

Death to all spiders.


Trust and Assurance.

From dictionary.com

trust[truhst] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation,
1.reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing; confidence.

What is with people these days?

They have your trust. Your confidence in them. You have complete assurance that they will not fail you. Yet they do. You confide in them, something small & insignificant nonetheless, but still, something shared in a quiet moment of whispered encouragement. For someone to take that trust, and trample on it, sharing it with all that they know....why would someone do that?

I do not care if it does not seem like a big deal to you...if someone shares something with you and explicitly tells you not to say anything to anyone....you just don't do it...that's so simple. Right?


Blogger Beta....we shall see....

Do I like it?
Or Do I not like it?

We shall see.......


Really really struggling.

I am full of so many emotions, and I am so ready to get on with life.

As soon as I can post in detail, I will.

Please, in the meantime, pray. For me. I really really need it.