In Anya's Words

And I’ll wrap it up with Anya’s own words about what she wants you to know about OCD...

“On June 28th of this year, I woke up thinking would be a normal day. Well, I actually don’t remember what I woke up feeling like, but I don’t think I predicted what would happen over the next few months. Anyways, I woke up semi-normal...but I went to bed throwing up and crying because of how sick I felt.

Mom thought it was anxiety; Dad thought it was a stomach bug. I went to sleep thinking that I would wake up feeling at least a little bit better.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t.

The next day, we went to my pediatrician and he prescribed anti-nausea pill and diagnosed me with a stomach bug that had been going around. I went home thinking I was on the right track.

Spoiler alert: I wasn’t.

The next day, the worst day of my life, I was laying on the floor throwing up, crying (or so my mom tells me; I can’t remember anything but how awful I felt...) and not being able to do anything to function. Several times, we considered checking me into a hospital. 

But we ended up going to the doctor again. He gave me an anti anxiety pill, and we went home thinking that I was on the right track.

Spoiler alert: I wasn’t.

The NEXT day, we called to get me into therapy with the same clinic I went to for my anxiety after Ian died. They said they were booked several weeks out and we’d have to wait. (Hooray.) Meanwhile, we called the doctor AGAIN because I couldn’t stop throwing up and the medicine was not working. I was given a faster working anxiety pill until the other one kicked in. We got off the phone thinking that I was on the right track.

Spoiler alert: I wasn’t. And so the pattern of throwing up, crying, having my mom feed me, and not being able to do anything continued for several more weeks.

Finally, we were able to get an appointment at the Primary Children’s clinic. We got in to see a therapist, and we finally though I was on the right track.

Spoiler alert: I wasn’t.

After two or three sessions with the therapist, it was clear that this wasn’t working. I was doing the strategies that I was told to, but they didn’t do anything.

So we went in to the doctor (as we had done weekly to up my dose of anti-anxiety medication) and he asked us if I had strep recently.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: Strep????

Yep. Strep. The most mundanely dangerous thing ever.

We said no, and he asked if we had ever heard of PANDAS.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: Pandas??? The cute furry ones from China???

Nope. Cute name, but it’s a horrible disease.

We said that we hadn’t and the doctor set us on the right track.

I don’t really remember much, but we saw a psychiatrist who consulted with us about medication. After telling her our whole story, she said that she’s never immediately thought that someone’s diagnosis is PANDAS until now. 

Somehow, we found a doctor who specialized in PANDAS. We drove out to the Wasatch front, got to the office, had me tested for strep cultures, and found out that I did, in fact, have PANDAS.

Basically, strep broke my blood/brain barrier and ruined the rational thinking part of my brain, sending my brain stem into overdrive. I was in fight/flight/freeze mode for several months straight. Because the logical thinking part of my brain wasn’t working, my memory was gone and the strep had given me OCD. 

The doctor we saw for PANDAS gave me an antibiotic, and he sent us to the OCD and Anxiety Treatment Center where I practiced exposure therapy for ten weeks. I had to face my fears three hours every day so I that I could get better. We knew we were on the right track now.

OCD is often viewed as something that makes someone extremely bothered by imperfection and things that are visually “off” or something that makes people concerned about germs. 

While perfectionism and contamination OCD are valid diagnosis, there tends to be a single minded view that this is the ONLY OCD diagnosis. Here’s the thing: OCD isn’t about any one thing! OCD is Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, meaning that you obsess over something, anything, and you perform compulsions to try and prevent it from happening.

This....never works.

OCD is more like anxiety than people think. Being constantly down and sick because that feeling that “something-bad-is-going-to-happen-and-I-need-to-prevent-it” is there and won’t go away. Medicine doesn’t take it away, therapy doesn’t take it away...nothing cures OCD. It’s being afraid of something perpetually. It’s being so afraid of something that you can’t stop thinking about it, that you will do anything in your power to stop it. But the catch is: you can’t stop your fear. OCD preys on things that you can’t control.”

The Worst of 2020

 October is OCD awareness month and I’ve hesitated to share our experience but after discussion with Anya, we felt it was the right thing to do. Our family is emerging from a war zone and it has been an experience we would never have imagined.

On June 28 we went to church and came home uneventfully. I don’t remember much about it. But by that evening, the Anya we knew had disappeared - unrecognizably consumed by an unfamiliar monster we now identify as extreme OCD.

During the two months that followed, our family was completely paralyzed by OCD (suddenly triggered by PANDAS, an autoimmune inflammatory reaction to a Strep virus). She couldn’t go outside (except to play tennis in the mornings, a discrepancy which we never could explain or understand but for which I daily gave thanks). She couldn’t look outside. She spent most of her time in the basement with constant white noise playing in the headphones in her ears. She could barely be upstairs - and definitely not if the blinds were open. She couldn’t handle even the changing light or shifting shadows through the closed blinds. She couldn’t eat and was throwing up. She would lay on the floor, curled in a ball, screaming and crying, often needing help even to get up. She had constant vivid dreams, often nightmares, and I spent more than one night sleeping with her trying to help her get some rest. She was exercising as a compulsion. She lost more than 7 lbs. in less than three weeks and at one point I was feeding her (yes, my 14 year old) just to try to maintain any caloric intake. She experienced auditory and visual hallucinations. She had almost zero short-term memory. She had irrational fears (that she recognized cognitively as irrational but were no less real to her) revolving around weather (or the possibility of weather) and unrealistic damage it might do to the dog, the house, the family. She checked weather at least 30 times (probably closer to 50 times) a day and could always find more apps and websites to check despite my efforts to block and prevent. Life stopped - for all of us. All my summer projects (Ian’s Scholarship, my private SLP practice, lesson planning for the coming year, trips to see family) were abruptly put on hold. Overnight everything revolved around Anya’s perceived dangers and her attempts to shelter from them. Izzi was frightened and always angry. We were stressed, exhausted, terrified, and at a total loss to help her. It was the definition of debilitating. For the entire family.

We began seeing doctors and specialists. We even considered hospitalization - and she was asking us to. Multiple medications were tried with little to no impact (and sometimes negative side effects). Fortunately her pediatrician recognized and mentioned the possibility of PANDAS, which ultimately put us on the path to help. We began counseling for anxiety, though on the first intake visit, the therapist admitted this seemed more like OCD and was extreme for her scope of practice. She suggested a psychiatrist and The OCD and Anxiety Treatment Center. After 4 different intake appointments in less than two weeks, we finally landed in a program where she felt understood. Her situation, though unique, was not foreign or mysterious to them - and they knew how to help.

Now, four months later, after almost 10 weeks of intensive outpatient therapy (3 hours a day five days a week), we mostly have our Anya back. We were even able to spend much of the weekend outside in Logan Canyon and having outdoor family pictures taken in the semi-wind. That would have been unthinkable just less than 4 months ago.

Anya will always have OCD. We hope to be able to gradually wean her from her extremely restrictive diet and hopefully at least some of her current medication. But as hard as this has been for us, it was sudden and abrupt and relatively short-lived compared to many families we’ve met through therapy who have suffered and struggled for years. If the onset hadn’t been so severe, I don’t know that we would have recognized it. She had OCD tendencies before, but we didn’t fully recognize them for what they were, nor would we have recognized this as OCD if PANDAS hadn’t jumped in and stunned us so completely that we, of necessity, scrambled desperately for immediate answers.

OCD is not always so severe, but it is real and mercilessly restrictive for those who suffer. We didn’t understand the beast before but we now know what to look for (and how to move forward) as viral infections may cause future flare-ups in Anya’s case. (PANDAS is different than just OCD, so much of her experience is specifically tinted through that lens. The sudden severity and intensity is not typical of all OCD and viruses, infections, and inflammation do not impact all people with OCD as they can for Anya.)

Anya wants to help others avoid her suffering and recognize signs in order to find help and stop OCD in its early stages. When I asked Anya if we should post, her answer was unequivocal: “Yes. People should know. OCD is not what people think. It’s not just compulsive hand washing. It’s not just needing the pictures to be perfectly straight on the wall. It is those things, but it’s more. It’s more than the stereotypical rituals. It’s like really obsessive, consuming anxiety. Intrusive thoughts that won’t leave you alone. It’s doing mundane things compulsively in a desperate attempt to protect yourself and others and prevent things you have no control over.”

https://www.healthline.com/health/pandas-syndrome

https://www.theocdandanxietytreatmentcenter.com/2020.../...

https://www.mayoclinic.org/.../symptoms-causes/syc-20354432

So for those of you who know my An, think of her as one of the variety of faces of OCD. Most of you probably did not know what she’s been dealing with. Remember that: You didn’t know. You couldn’t tell. This is not an attempt to elicit sympathy or attention for her or us as a family. More just a reminder that we usually don’t know what others are silently facing. Have patience. Show love and compassion and kindness. To everyone. Always. Don’t judge. Don’t criticize. Don’t minimize others’ distress or difficulties. And please, do not hesitate to seek help when it’s needed.

The Worst of 2020

The next entries will detail some of the most intense 4 months our family has experienced.  It's a work in progress and one that we only have time and strength to write about as we're approaching the (sort of) finish line.  Of course, it all happened in 2020...

15th Birthday - Part 2

Plus, Anya has just about the coolest dad EVER!  

Check out his birthday surprise for her...

Anya's 15th Birthday!

15 Admirable Attributes of Anya:

1.  Joie de vivre

Since she was tiny, we've always commented on how much Anya loves life.  Her passion and energy are inspiring.  Her dad and I often used to talk about how much of a needed blessing she was in maintaining a positive outlook during the hard work of being Ian's parents.  Her joy is buoyant and contagious.

2.  Fierceness

Anya doesn't do anything halfway.  She lives and loves and feels everything with gusto.  If she does (or feels) something, it is done completely and with passion.

3.  Humor

She totally shares her dad's sense of humor.  It is fun to watch them get silly together and the laughter is (again) contagious - even if I'm laughing more at their laughing than at what they're laughing at.

4.  Intelligence

Learning has always been important to her.  She's been a little sponge she she was tiny and Ian was in therapy.  She wants to learn and she enjoys learning.  And watching it come so naturally to her helped us appreciate both her gift and Ian's hard work.

5.  Empathy

Anya is blessed with a true ability to think about and understand what others are feeling.  Again, developed in part by the opportunity to be Ian's sister, but much of it was, I believe, an innate gift for her.

6.  Loyalty

Anya is definitely someone you want in your corner.  And if she's there, she's there to stay.  (Remember #2?)  Nobody messes with Anya's people without being met with her righteous indignation.  (See #14)

7.  Persistence

If she decides to do something, she will stay at it until it is done right.  She may get frustrated on the way (and we'll know it - again #2), but she will stick with it until she has succeeded.

8.  Resilience

This ball of fire has experienced hard things in her life.  She maintains an overall positive attitude and works hard to keep moving forward.  She's needed it and we're glad she's been blessed with this stubborn ability to bounce back.

9.  Motivation

Anya has always been super self-motivated.  We've been the spoiled parents who have never had to hound her about school work or projects or other obligations.  There have been some big school projects (Boo-ography, for example, in 5th grade) where I've wanted to help her learn a skill (planning things out on a poster in pencil before diving in with pen or marker, for example) but I've had to jump in and make suggestions because she just takes things and runs with them!

10.  Faith

Through all the hard things she's done, Anya is the first to turn to her Heavenly Father for help.  When there's been a problem or question that arises in the family, by the time I've paused in trying to "act" to fix things long enough to think to remind us of prayer, Anya ALWAYS says, "Oh, I've already done that, Mom."  Her scriptures and her prayers are her first line of defense.  (Again with fierceness!)

11.  Integrity

Anya has a definite sense of right and wrong and no tolerance for injustice.  She will come to the defense of right with (you guessed it) complete fierceness when required.

12.  Compassion

Anya's care for others and, yes especially for animals, is certainly one of her defining characteristics.  Her tender heart is always ready to reach out and help someone who needs it.  I remember after devastating storms in our area when we lived in Memphis, I had talked to Anya about families who had lost everything they had - clothes, books, homes, etc.  My little 5 year old quickly ran to her closet and grabbed a favorite outfit and said we should take it to her school where they were collecting donations.  We then went shopping for towels and other household supplies because my little girl was determined to help meet the need.

13.  Creativity & Artistic Ability

Have you seen her photography?  She truly has an eye and captures some visually stunning images.  Hearing her develop her talent with the violin (and recently sharing it as we learn to play a difficult duet) has also truly enriched and blessed our family.

14.  Bravery

Bravery is not the lack of fear.  It's pushing through despite it.  Anya has always been more reserved around people she doesn't know well - even to a point where she didn't want to go to the park when she was younger because she might have to talk to kids she didn't know.  But if something must be done (see the entire list of qualities above), fear will not get in the way.  Once she came home from kindergarten (a definitely trying year for her) and told me that she'd had to set some big boys straight in the lunchroom.  "They were saying Ian was a baby because he drank from a sippy cup.  I told them he was NOT a baby.  His body just didn't work the same as theirs."

15.  Friendship

As Izzi has entered the picture, Anya sometimes seems to think I prefer the preschool age - that it's more fun.  I've explained that while I do love the development of Izzi's age - and that it makes for great stories (she had an equally wonderful array at the same age - I've come to truly appreciate and enjoy the relationship I share with my big girl.  I was afraid of having a teenager.  But I love it.  I know moms aren't supposed to be their daughter's "friends" (and I think she'd agree with you that there's an equal amount of "mean mom" there, too) I consider Anya one of my best friends.  I love our conversations and spending time together.  We are also so glad she has the wisdom to associate with good friends - the mutual loyalty and support of her friends is definitely an asset to her and to our family.

So happy birthday, "baby girl".  You'll always be my baby.  But I love and admire you more every year as my big girl. 💛💛💛

Ian's 18th Birthday

18 years ago, I became a mom.  18 years of loving and learning and joy and sorrow.  18 years of blessings.  I've tried to note one memory/treasure from each of those years (though it's been hard to narrow it - so you can look for more on the his memorial page https://www.facebook.com/groups/rememberingIan 🥰).  So, join me as I remember: 

Things I learned from Ian by the time he was ...

1 year old - I can memorize and recite children's books.  

He had memorized many favorite books and could find any page - even if we recited them out of order.  "Where's 'The attic had a little room.  I cleaned it up with mop and broom and settled all my wooly guests while urging them to get some rest.' Ian?"  (See, I still have Farm Flu memorized, too.)

2 years old - I can run.

Ian could, so I had to.  He was quick and often attempted to escape on adventures of his own making.  Constant Vigilance actually became my self-proclaimed username for some things around this time period.

3 years old - I know the parts of an airplane.

I vividly remember sitting in our apartment in Taiwan and talking about airplane pictures with Ian.  He'd point to the plane and I'd tell him what that part was.  He never learned to say them, but he could point out fuselage, cockpit, wheels, wings, tail, and propellor.

4 years old - I love preschool.

I loved how excited Ian was to go to preschool.  He loved the bus (for summer school - we drove during the year) and wearing his little backpack around.  He loved his friends - we would practice identifying them by their pictures (I'd say the names and he'd find the picture).  Clayton and I had to giggle each time we'd drop off our little redhead - literally the only white kiddo in a sea of cute, dark little faces.

5 years old - There is no connection like that of a sibling.

Ian was careful with "B An" (Baby Anya) like he was with absolutely NOTHING else in his world.  By the time she was 2 they were already partners in crime and could understand one another better than probably anyone could understand either of them.

6 years old - There are things I can't fix.

We got Ian's Sanfilippo diagnosis just 3 1/2 weeks after he turned 3 (on my 30th birthday, actually).  I remember the devastation as I began (and continued learning) that no, I can't work hard enough to make this better.

7 years old - I am loved incomprehensibly by my Heavenly Father.

Ok, so I'm still learning this all the time.  But in October of 2007 (I know, technically by the time Ian was 6, but I put it to use over the next year or so) I heard a talk by Henry B. Eyring (https://youtu.be/7h13b0D2CcI) and took it to heart.  He spoke of making a point to write down all the tender mercies and ways we see the hand of God in our lives.  This came at a time when I needed it probably more than ever and, though I wouldn't have wished Ian's situation on him or anyone, I am grateful it helped me pay attention and learn some of these lessons.  (I wish I were still more diligent at writing these moments and blessings down.)

8 years old - I know what terror feels like.

Ian ran away from school.  Well, really he just escaped.  Somehow he got out of his classroom and the elementary school unnoticed.  Not sure how since he would have struggled to push open the heavy doors on his own, but he did.  His teacher called, upset, and told me "something really bad" had happened.  She neglected to tell me he was ok (finally found on the playground wandering - not in the street, not in the nearby creek) until the end of her harrowing story.  I think people might be serious about things making your heart stop and your blood run cold.  There is nothing like the fear you feel on behalf of your children.

9 years old - Snuggles are NOT overrated.

Most moms probably don't get to snuggle their 10 year old boys, but Ian always loved this - even if he did have rather sharp elbows he used as leverage on whichever of my body parts was necessary to adjust his position or to get up when he was finished snuggling.

10 years old - Swallowing (and breathing at the same time) is important.

Ian really helped me to find practical application for what I had/would continue to learn through my undergraduate and graduate programs to become an SLP.  His swallow studies became one more part of his ongoing care (and our ongoing education) as we learned that he was silently aspirating thin liquids and that it took much longer (people would assume he had to be full because meals took so long) and much more effort than most people realized for him to consume enough calories (he worked so hard that he burned them as he ate) to stay healthy.  By the end of his last summer, Clayton had "fattened" him up again through his diligent, persistent, focused efforts.

11 years old - Modern adaptive equipment is amazing!

Our front room was full of a stander and a peapod and finally a wheelchair (when he wasn't in the chair).  We were SO thankful to finally get his wheelchair after months of "working" with insurance.

12 years old - Our Heavenly Father is aware of all of us.

We lost Ian suddenly about 6 weeks after his 11th birthday.  He left a gaping hole and an 8 year old best friend sister to be comforted.  I remember sitting and watching the General Conference of our church with sweet Anya and being overcome by messages that reaffirmed again and again that He was aware of our little family.  At one point Anya turned to me in sincere amazement and asked, "How did President Monson know about Ian?" (https://youtu.be/kbNnlQjwZb0) The talks were directed precisely to our needs.

13 years old - Loss is hard.

Within the first year of adjusting we learned that, though we were glad Ian had been spared much of the physical pain and suffering which could have been his, there is an emptiness - an incompleteness - that is not dimmed by time.  We learn our way through it.  We adjust to it.  We work through counseling and friends and family support.  But it is not forgotten.  It just becomes part of the new "normal".

14 years old - I have strong, resilient children.

Anya adamantly did NOT want another sibling.  The loss and struggle was still too real and too scary.  But as soon as Izzi arrived I watched Anya take on the actual role of big sister that she had practiced so well with Ian.  Best friends or fiercest enemies, nearly 11 years apart rather than just 3, the relationship between siblings is still strong.  I am thankful for the compassion and caretaking and fun Anya learned, remembered, and practiced as Ian's "big" little sister.

15 years old - I am thankful for technology.

Memories of kindergarten Anya "reading" bedtime stories to Ian and giggling with him on his bed and in his tent still bring a smile (and sometimes a tear) to my face - even more so when I can watch them on the home movies Clayton so diligently collected.  And Izzi has a much better concept of who her big brother was/is because she can see and hear him as we watch together.

16 years old - There's always a positive side.

No matter how dark or how hard things feel, there is always something beautiful to be learned.  It's not always easy to find and we often need help grasping it.  But it's there - and the help to find it is as well.

17 years old - People are good.

Thinking over the memories of all of the amazing friends we've made and examples we've known that we would have otherwise missed has been a true comfort and blessing at difficult times.  We are so thankful that Ian helped bring out the best in others - and helped us find and appreciate it.

18 years old - I still need training wheels.

I often referred to Ian as my training wheels.  Being his mom kept me focused and balanced and moving in the right direction.  I feel like I lose sight of that more easily the farther I get from the active engagement of his constant care.  I think I need to pull out the manual and practice some more.  This exercise in gratitude has been a good step.  But I sometimes think he's probably disappointed in how wobbly I've become without him.

Silver Lining

So I guess there is a silver lining or two about losing much of the back fence (and having to wait a month for completion of repairs)...

     

Sum-Sum-Summer Time

We've been carefully and selectively participating in things outside the home.  The girls, especially, have really needed it.  We figured that tennis (outside and fairly socially distanced, as far as sports go) and swimming lessons (small group and all that lovely chlorine!) would be reasonable to try.

Anya has been playing tennis 2-4 hours most mornings and loving it - for the most part.  There has been a bit of skin unpleasantness.  Being 14, she refused to let me take a picture, but she got a sunburn which then exploded into a drug reaction, exacerbated by the sunscreen she was using.  She's been on an antibiotic that we knew could make her more sensitive to sunburn, so we had been hounding her about application (and reapplication).  We were actually getting after her for not being vigilant (though she said she had been) since the first Friday she came home looking pinker than she had all week.  She rested after Friday (a week ago) and did not go out in the sun over the weekend and it looked better.  However, Monday it looked bad, Tuesday it looked worse, and Wednesday I insisted that I oversee her first application of sunscreen - she OBVIOUSLY was not putting enough on.  We really slathered it all over her face (though oddly enough, nothing but the bridge of her nose and cheek bones were burning) and I kept texting her to make sure she was reapplying.  She came home upset because her eyes had watered the entire time and her face was still looking really bad.  I tried the dermatologist but got no answer.  Thursday, we tried another sunscreen and I had her leave it layered thick but not rub it in - maybe it would act as more of a barrier?  While she was gone, the dermatologist's office returned our call and told her she needed to stop taking the antibiotic - that a "drug rash" was a potential side effect.  When she came home, her face was nearly purple and her hands and lower arms were starting to turn red and itch.  We researched several creams and ointments and obviously stopped the medication.  (However, in researching this side effect, we also learned that this medication can cause esophageal ulcers - which she had had treated earlier this summer.  No one even mentioned that either of these things could be possible and even after the month-long ulcer treatment, nobody caught the connection.  I'm sure it was NOT a coincidence.). Anyway, lack of photographic proof aside, she's looking better and feeling much more comfortable.  And we're prepared for the next week of tennis - hopefully without a repeat interaction.

Izzi's adventures have been less eventful.  She's been taking her first formal swimming lessons - and loving it way more than the other two little boys in the class.  She's always been a natural in the water - more coordinated than she is on land.  The two little boys spent the entire first week screaming and fighting to get out of the pool and the second week adjusting.  Because enrollment was low, there was one teacher to each child.  So, Izzi basically glided and splashed and kicked and dived around in essentially a private lesson, avoiding the drama ensuing around her.  She had a good session and is ready to start again tomorrow.

A Glimpse of Izzi

As I remember these moments, I'll have to sprinkle them in here and there - even if they won't be chronological.  These are fairly recent, however...

We've been "playing" a lot of Scrabble.  Basically, ever since we've been experiencing social distancing, we've had a board out on the counter and we all just contribute as we go.  Thursday, Izzi said she wanted me to get out the "kid Scrabble" so she could play.  I think we've entered the creative/invented spelling phase...

"See, Mom.  I'll just make my favorites."  Can you tell which family members she's thinking about?

Her creativity is also evident in play.  I sent the following text to my mom the other day:  "I'm currently playing the part of a teacher bunny rabbit who has adopted a baby giraffe whose parents and siblings died when it was younger and it needed to live in a home with someone who would protect it from octopuses who can walk on land and water and sometimes eat baby giraffes. 

 

"And now Cookie Monster (who sometimes eats cookies and sometimes eats baby giraffes due to his magical powers) is wanting to come in to the house."

 

But it got even worse.  "Now there's a spider who, despite its size, can also eat baby giraffes.  Because it first takes small bites and then grows larger until it can eat the whole thing.  But don't worry: Blue, the helper bunny, just squished the spider with his magical sock." 

           Seriously, I couldn't make this stuff up!  She always keeps us laughing. 

The End of the World As We Know It...

So, starting mid-March, that line from the REM song has been running through my head pretty much non-stop.  

The year started with fires in Australia, wide-spread earthquakes in Utah and surrounding states among other catastrophes world-wide.  A highly contagious pandemic soon emerged in the forefront.

Toilet paper, hand sanitizer, and hand soap were the first to disappear.

About the second week of March, toilet paper, antibacterial hand sanitizer, paper towels, baby wipes, and hand soap began to be a scarcity.  People were panicking and stocking up because of a new strain of highly contagious coronavirus.  On March 12, I was headed to the grocery store to pick up one thing (Thai curry paste) for dinner.  As I pulled in to the Smith's parking lot, they were just announcing on the radio that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was cancelling all live church gatherings in response to the global COVID-19 pandemic.  I walked into Smith's but it may as well have been the Twilight Zone.  Pretty sure the fire marshal wouldn't have known where to start with violations - though judging by the number of people in the store, statistically he was probably there, too.   You couldn't even figure out where a line began and the general mass of humans ended.  And forget about toilet paper - the shelves were nearly empty of most canned and boxed goods as well.  It was surreal.

This was reality - social media and real life - this was what shopping looked like for about three or four weeks.

That evening, Tami (my preschool administrator) texted and asked if I could attend a district leadership meeting in her absence the next day.  Friday, March 13the (yes, I see the irony), I pulled in at 7:30 and the meeting began - unfolding the plans about when (not if) we were told we could no longer hold school on site.  Everything was happening so fast my mind was spinning.  I went back to school, shared the information with first our team leaders and then with all the staff.  But by the end of that day, as I was sitting in a meeting with a parent, the secretary interrupted to let me know that Phyllis (the Superintendent's secretary) needed me to call her.  When the meeting ended, I stopped by the office to find out more and Gladys let me know I needed to call right then - before meeting with the parent standing there in the office already waiting.  I rushed upstairs to call and Phyllis asked if I could be at a meeting in half an hour.  I told her I had a parent meeting and she told me I'd need to finish it quickly.  I made necessary arrangements, cut the meeting short, and rushed over to the district office building to attend my second "district leaders" meeting of the day/my life.  A statewide soft school closure was about to be announced - meaning that on site attendance would not be happening but we needed to figure out a way to provide instruction virtually.  Again, completely surreal...

I do feel that I have had help and inspiration through all of this.  For months prior, I had been trying to focus on building up our food supply in earnest.  There was no need for us to scramble - there were some things we couldn't get but we weathered the shortage just fine.  In addition, since the beginning of the year, I had been especially focused on some problems at school regarding service delivery.  I had been praying and doing what I could to work through these unrelated issues and had felt very strongly that I was having a Nephi experience - this was my "ship" and, though I didn't always know the blueprint or even have the requisite tools, I was receiving the guidance to build because the Lord knew I was trying to help His precious children.  This inspiration and guidance intensified as we moved online and that aspect didn't stress me out nearly as much as I expected it to (though there were admittedly other intense stressors to be sure).

Over the next 10 weeks, we went NOwhere - literally.  Clayton would go out weekly for groceries.  The girls and I would take walks at the park.  But the girls and I did not otherwise leave the house.  (Ok, except one trip to the ER for Izzi with another UTI).  Words like masks, and shelter at home, and essential workers, and social distancing, and Zoom, and Meet, and Teams, and remote learning became part of our daily vocabulary.  It was an intense experience trying to be mom and teacher to my own kids while still supervising my team remotely, providing intervention remotely, and meeting with teams and parents remotely.  Definitely a unique experience.

And, though the danger has not passed, the pandemic has slowed here for now.  Just as things began  relaxing, we were placed under another shelter at home directive resulting from an active shooter situation in the neighborhood.  About a week later, Anya's tennis classes were cancelled due to a suspected threat at the high school (school is out, but the outdoor high school courts were being used).  On a personal family level, my brother, Andrew, ended up in the hospital with complications from a several days old ruptured appendix.  My brother-in-law, Dylan, ended up with a blood clot in his leg (though fortunately it was not kidney failure of his years-old transplant, as they feared it may be).  My nephew landed in the ER with a severe allergic reaction (cashews and pistachios, apparently).  And (for those of you who know me and my rodent phobia), we had a mouse in our walls/ceiling for three weeks (before we finally figured out how it was getting in and out and were able to catch it).

Then, yesterday, the latest installment.  We knew there'd been a flash flood warning (a rarity here in the Utah desert) and a severe thunderstorm warning.  Anya and I were standing at the sliding glass door watching the rain pour down in sheets and the wind whip.  I had just been commenting to her that this was "Memphis weather".  We'd seen (and hid from) storms of closer to that intensity, though not for years.  Lights were flickering and just as the power went out, from the corner of the yard, an entire fence panel exploded from its frame, flying through the yard toward us in pieces.  Not waiting to see if the rest of the fence would hold (or if it would come cascading through any of the five windows (including the sliding glass door) on that side of the room, I grabbed Izzi and yelled to Anya to get to the basement with no windows.  (Clayton was downstairs in his office so we caught him on the way.)  Three guesses as to what Anya did first.  Yep, Aggie (our dog) joined us in the dark furnace room.  It felt a bit too much like a tornado warning in Memphis - just minus the sirens.  When the weather let up a bit (it was a long time until it stopped and there was a second wave that followed about an hour later), we returned upstairs to survey the damage.  Fortunately our house was not damaged, but the front and back fences were half gone.  We were lucky - there was far worse in the community and we had a neighbor family who helped us clean the debris within less than half an hour.  We were without power from about 12:20 until about 5:00, but there were some in the area who still did not have power today.  All things considered, we fared pretty well.  But the dog won't be able to roam the yard until we figure out insurance and the fence.  And I'm afraid our garden (which mostly withstood the storm except where fence pieces actually fell on plants), will not survive fence replacement/repair.

Front Yard

Back Yard

From Back to Front

What hadn't warped or blown out was significantly bent.

          Neighborhood Carwash               

I'm beginning to side with Homer...

My Dream...

OUR ENDEAVOR:
Seven years ago today, I began the adventure of my Master's degree - inspired, of course, by Ian.  So today seemed the appropriate time to share our dream.

To anyone who knew Ian, the twinkle of mischief in his eyes, the delight in his smile, and his completely contagious laugh are unforgettable.  He was a persistent fighter from the day he was born and in his 11 short years, he profoundly touched the lives of anyone who took the time to get to know him.  If you didn't know him, you really missed out. 

This is a big Ian year at our house. In August, he'd be turning 18 (I know, I know. Pretty unreal, right?) and entering his senior year of high school.  If he'd been a typical kiddo we'd be thinking ahead a year from now to graduation, college, and a mission. Wow! It's a bit much for my mind to wrap around. However, in commemoration of  this milestone year, we've started the Ian Aston Brown Memorial Facebook Page to help us all celebrate the difference he's made and will continue to make through his influence on our lives.

Since he will NOT be going to college, we have decided to help someone else (or hopefully several others for years to come) pursue education in his memory.  His battle to communicate was key in my decision to pursue degrees in communication disorders. The flexibility, availability, and quality of Utah State University's programs enabled me to realize this goal and become an SLP.  So, because we're a USU family (Aggie blue through and through), we've decided to build an Ian Aston Brown Memorial Scholarship through USU to assist students to train in fields that will help those who struggle to communicate. The scholarship will be awarded to a Utah State University regional campus student pursuing a degree in Communication Disorders and Deaf Education.  The goal is lofty and may be several years in the making, but we are all excited to do this in memory of Ian. (And I think it might just make him happy, too.)

Our family will be saving and raising money to donate to USU. Our ultimate goal is to  reach $25,000 over the next five years so we can create an endowed scholarship, meaning it will continue to be awarded in his name even after we are gone. To begin this process with USU, we need to raise at least $5,000 per year for five years - $6,000 if we want to begin awarding it as it grows, so it may take us a little while to get off the ground.  We would love to have something in place so that a student could begin using the scholarship the same year he would have begun attending.  If we can raise $6,000 by December of this year, that is a very real possibility!  If you would like to contribute, consider donating to our Go Fund Me project in Ian's memory or share it with others who might like to join us in an inspiring cause.

Aston Family Updated

(Thanksgiving 2019)...

Isabella Brown

We are thrilled to introduce Isabella, the newest member of the Brown family.
Now, before anyone rushes off to call Guiness, no -- this was not the world's longest pregnancy.   It's just an announcement 4 years late in the making...from a mom who really did find herself 10 years tired-er (with a baby who didn't sleep through the night consistently until she quit napping at 20 months old) this time around.

From the beginning (before she was born, even) she's had a determination and mind of her own.  On my las OB appointment, I asked the doctor about her flipping (since I was certain I had witnessed her perform an entire summersault the evening before).  He assured me she was "way too big" by now and that there simply "wasn't the space" and dismissed the question.  Then, since she was going on a week overdue, he asked if we wanted to have him strip my membranes.  We decided this was a pretty good plan, so he did -- and then immediately asked for the ultrasound machine.  Turns out, he couldn't feel her head because she had, indeed, become a gymnast and had turned again since the last appointment.  We scheduled a planned C-section for the next morning since they didn't want the risk of delivering breech.   But the damage was done: I wound up in the hospital with pretty strong contractions around 11:30 that night.

Because it was overnight and not an emergency, they were unwilling to bring in the team necessary for the delivery until the next morning or until it became inevitable that she was coming.  And no epidural because we were scheduled for a C-section.  Several hours later, the doctor came and I could sense a little panic as he hurried them along to prep me for delivery.  As a result, I was in labor longer without pain relief (kudos to those who choose natural child birth, but I'm not so strong, I guess) than with either of the other two births and still had the disturbing (as Clayton lovingly calls it) experience of C-section and recovery.  However, she arrived safely, if a bit misshapen from her acrobatics (her legs stuck straight out for a while since they'd been wedged up over her shoulders).


And then, there was the Anya adjustment.  She'd been adamant that she didn't want another sibling, but she'd come around.  She had insisted she wasn't going to the hospital, so Grandpa David (who'd been summoned last-minute to stay while we were in surgery) told her she could just ride over in the car.  Once there, she decided she'd go in - but she was just going to see me and not look at "that baby".  He assured her that was fine.  However, once inside, they were best friends from the start.  In fact, Anya is the one who chose her name.  She spent less than 2 minutes with her before deciding that she was definitely Isabella and not Ariana.  And to this day, they are best friends (and worst annoyances) to one another.

Trying to catch up on 4 years of Izzi seems a daunting task.  So we'll just have to jump start and hopefully capture the essence as we move on from here.