Women who inspire me--"Cosette"

How do I tell the story of Cosette? How do I honor her today? I have been trying and trying to make myself commit to writing this post, but every time I have a spare minute, I talk myself out of doing it. I don't know why.

It shouldn't be hard. I have written essays about it before. I have shared my story several times within the Families Supporting Adoption groups that Britt and I used to meet with here. I have born my testimony of adoption during special fifth Sunday presentations at various wards throughout town. I even participated in a panel once at the high school, where I talked about how the choices which led me to adoption have affected my life. It really is not a sensitive subject to me. I am not ashamed or afraid of this story.

But I do feel the need to do justice to this tribute to the baby girl who changed my life, and helped me birth my testimony of this Gospel. Not telling it quite right, I think that is what I am afraid of.

Well, let me tell you, anyway. She will forgive me if it doesn't sound perfect.

My mother will tell you at that time in my life, she had been fervently praying that I would gain a testimony of the Church. That used to really bother me, because I always thought I had a testimony; I just didn't fully appreciate how the Gospel, and especially the Atonement worked in my life. Looking back now, I think a critical part of my testimony was missing. And that was--even though I would have denied it--that I did not fully accept that I truly was a child of God, with a divine nature. And as his child, that I truly mattered to my Father and my Savior.

There was a friend of mine waiting in heaven, watching over me as I struggled through this time in my life, when I intentionally made some pretty stupid choices, just trying to find my way. I believe she and I knew each other in the premortal existence, and we both knew that we would have a profound effect on each other's lives on earth. But there she was in heaven, helpless to aid me, frustrated that I couldn't see my way, and how could she be there for me?

Then, she was. She totally was. Just when I needed her most, she came into my life. In the most unexpected way. She was the one. She brought me around. Because of her, I began the repentence process. Because of her, I finally read through all of the Book of Mormon on my own. Because of her, I came to accept and understand the Atonement of the Savior and his love for me. I learned to truly serve others, and to accept the service of others. Because of her, I was able to feel the Spirit, carrying me, comforting me, guiding me. I was able to say, probably for the first time in my life, "Not my will, Lord, but thine be done."

I love her for that. How can I not?

I was not as young as some girls are when they discover their life choices have led them to a place where their choices are no longer just about them, but now include a baby. But I was still very immature, and I knew it. When I realized I was going to have a baby, my first thought was that it was going to have to be adopted. I would be a terrible mother.

For the first time in my life, I started to make arrangements for what would need to be done. I had always had help before. My mother practically had to fill out college applications, scholarship paperwork, make phone calls for me, and anything else that might be considered "responsible" previous to this time. But I did it all on my own this time. I found a place to live. I started the repentence process with the bishop of my new ward. I contacted LDS Social Services to start an adoption plan. I found my own doctor.

I didn't tell my family anything about what I was doing. They thought I was just moving to Logan to get out of Blanding. To find a job and eventually go back to school.

I was five months along, when I told my family. It was tough, but not terrible. I felt good about the decision I had now made, and I believed they would support me. I knew they would be disappointed, but I never doubted their love. (Thank you, my dear family. I will love you always for your patience with me)

Cosette.

The agency that I went to while I was pregnant with Cosette was not exactly what I expected. I walked in the door telling them what I wanted to do with this baby. And they said, "Wait. Wait before you make any decision. Consider your options." That really bothered me. I knew what I wanted to do, so let me get on with it, I thought. They encouraged me to consider whether or not marriage was a possibility. Well, since I hadn't heard from the boyfriend since I told him (I think Tim had something to do with that--thanks, little brother), that didn't seem a possibility. And I knew deep down I did not want to marry him anyway. Think about single parenting, they told me. Why??? Ugh, I know what I want. Wait, step back. Okay, maybe I should listen to them. Maybe I really should weigh my options, write down the pros and cons to each, pray about it.

So, I did. And I always felt right about my first choice, adoption. But I am glad that I received confirmation from the Holy Ghost that this was the right choice. I am grateful that as painful as my life was in the months after she was born, when letters could not come fast enough, and information was way too limited, I NEVER regretted my decision. I owned it. I knew the choice I had made, and I held to it. I believed, and I know the Spirit witnessed to me, that the little girl I held for 9 months and 2 days belonged to the family she is now with.

I am so grateful for the time I had with her. I am so glad that because of her, I finally learned how to really take care of myself. I am grateful that because of her, I got to have a relationship with her dear, sweet parents, who loved me so much. Who prayed for me in my struggles, when I didn't even realize how I was struggling. They helped me overcome my trials and move on. I love them, and I miss that relationship today.

Someday I hope I can meet with her again, and really thank her in words that she can hopefully now understand. I hope she can know that she was my angel. I pray we will be friends again.

It's coming--I am almost there

Do you ever just say something, and after it is out of your mouth, you realize that that particular moment may not have been the best time to share exactly what you had on your mind? Whenever this happens to me, I just feel like hibernating for months, so I don't have to go out in public again, and make a total fool of myself.

Adoption has been on the brain this last month for me.

Especially my personal adoption experience.

So, I was at the church for a craft activity with the ward last night. Etching on glass dishes. Apparently they have to be new glass casserole dishes, because the etching stuff did not stick to my pans. Oh well.

Rylee Lyman was there. She was babysitting the extra kids and also working on her own glass pan. Her mother, Patty was in the background helping everyone else. This is the part where I make myself feel like a fool.

Rylee was teasing her mother about how old she is. She's not that old, but she and Bruce were married several years before they adopted Sydney, and Rylee two years later. Rylee became part of the Lyman family a little bit less than a year after I placed "Cosette" for adoption. Rylee has always been special to me. This is because she is a tangible witness to me of the love with which "my" little girl has been blessed, I am quite sure, within her own family.

Patty and Rylee's birth family had a face-to-face meeting. I had participated in one of the first ever face-to-face at LDS Family Services, where the birth parent and adoptive family actually get to see and talk to each other. They did not allow us to use our real names, and they were very diligent about making sure we did not exchange any identifying information. When we corresponded, they screened the letters to be certain nothing that would give away our true identities or locations would be divulged. I hated that. I wanted to know the family better, but back then, LDS Social Services believed that keeping everything private and closed was the best way to go. (It is a lot different now).

Well, Patty and Rylee's birth mother made a point of secretly exchanging information. Rylee's birth mother even went so far as to send Rylee a gift package which included a Disney princess movie. But the video inside was actually a video of labor and delivery when Rylee was born. Outside of the agency, they began calling each other, and they continued to correspond well beyond the bounds of what LDS Social Services allowed. Bruce and Patty attended the birth mother's temple sealing about a year later. Rylee often goes with the birth mother's family on vacations. Her birth brother has even come here to visit.

I have always been a little jealous of the openness of their relationship. I even tried to secretly send my address to the family in one of the letters we exchanged through the agency, but I never heard from them via regular mail. I suppose some people are terrified of having a true relationship with the birth mother, because they think she might change her mind, or stalk their family.

This is not my point, though. I was telling you about how Rylee made a comment about her mother being so old. When, out of the blue, I tell her, when I was selecting an adoptive family for the baby I had before Britt and I were married, I was seriously freaking out about how old they were. Since they were already 30, I was afraid they might be dead before I even had a chance to meet them again.

And the air got cold. I felt like such a fool. A couple people in the room were asking me for more details about my experience. But I could tell I had possibly offended others. I don't know who. Still, I remember having that same distinct feeling after I shared part of my adoption story at a Relief Society retreat when I lived in Mesa. The time that the bishop later reprimanded me for telling about my adoption experience.

I am sorry. Like I said, adoption on the brain.

I am almost ready to pay tribute to Cosette.

She Inspires Me--Kimberly Hurst Glover

Sorry about the picture. Those of you who follow my blog may have noticed, I have added a couple buttons on my sidebar. I just discovered some lovely websites about adoption, and I had to share. But more on that later. And you will see, this post has two parts, because I will be addressing the other "woman" who inspires me relating to this same experience in my life. This is a topic I have been wanting to cover for months, but I hadn't found the right way to do it.

Here we are, it is officially Adoption Awareness Month, and the perfect opportunity for me to express my gratitude for some awesome women in my life.

A little shout out here for Kristy Black who inadvertantly led me to these sites, which inspired me to get serious about posting about this very important part of my life experience.

There are so many reasons Kimberly Hurst Glover is inspirational to me, I could not possibly name them all. Today, I choose to focus on the time she was my friend and birth coach, 15 years ago when I was 19 years old, single, secretly pregnant and planning to place my baby for adoption.

Where do I begin? The first person I told (other than birth daddy--we won't go into that) was my brother, and he of course told his new fiance, Kim. So she was one of the first to know, and she was literally with me all the way. Since I lived in Logan, away from the rest of my family, the two of them were my total support system there.

Kim helped me go to the doctor, and she attended LDS Family Services support groups with me. She helped me find a place to live when the roommate situation didn't work out for me. She kept me entertained during many long days, letting me visit her while she worked at a babysitting job. Oh, Kim. She helped me fall in love with Diet Coke and peanut butter sandwiches. She laughed with me when friends who didn't know any better set me up on a date. (I was a tiny pregnant lady--only that one time, though). She literally took care of me.

And I am sure all she really wanted to do was enjoy being engaged to my sweet brother. They even put off their wedding for my sake. Looking back now, I can believe that must have been tough for them. But a sacrifice willingly given by my future sister-in-law. I love you so much, Kim.

And a memory of that time that stands out so strongly in my mind:

We had gone to the hospital. I was in labor. Man, that was nearly the only time I got to experience what it was like to go into labor on my own. But that's irrelevant to this story. I was sure the nurses would turn me away, but they said I could stay. A couple hours later with the epidural taking full effect--I digress again, but what I wouldn't give to have gotten to partake of that pain-free experience for the delivery of my own five kids--we called some friends to come and give me a priesthood blessing.

I don't remember the words. I can't even honestly say I remember the feeling. But I do remember what my beautiful future sister-in-law said right after the blessing. She said she was impressed by how strong the Spirit was in that little labor and delivery room. And I missed it.

That has always struck me. Was it because the Spirit had been watching over me during that whole blessed experience, the pregnancy, the adoption process? Did I simply take it for granted? Or was it that I was so consumed with myself that I did not recognize that wonderful gift of the Holy Ghost, surrounding me, waiting for me to receive it? I always wonder about that.

So, the thing about this fabulous lady, Kimberly Glover, that inspires me the most, is her ability to recognize the Spirit. May I always be in tune enough to recognize this unique blessing in my life, as she was then in that remarkable time in both of our lives.

I have to add that of course this wonderful woman also inpires me because of her strength in overcoming the MANY adversities involved with infertility issues and the process of adopting her second and third child. I know for her, it has not always been easy to keep the faith, but I LOVE that she has. And I absolutely love her, more than she can possibly know.

How the Bartons celebrate a beautiful weekend

So, Cole's football game Saturday morning accidentally got cancelled. They were playing against Cortez, on the most inopportune day, the opening day of the rifle deer hunt. Bishop Macdonald, Cole's coach, and his four daughters had all drawn out for the hunt, so they could have been up the mountain. But because the game had already been scheduled, and couldn't be changed, our team decided they would play. And every boy but one decided they would come down off the mountain, or postpone their hunting plans. Family came from far away (like Drew) to watch them. Unfortunately, Cortez didn't show up. Our team received a phone call from the Cortez team explaining that they had received a message that because of the hunt our game had been cancelled.
The boys decided to have a short scrimmage against each other, with Britt's team victorious in the end. Then, we sent them on their way. As we were leaving, a bus showed up with the Cortez team. The Cortez 6th and 7th grade team, I mean. Our boys are 4th and 5th grade. Blanding's 6th and 7th grade team had decided they didn't want to play on opening hunt day, so they called Cortez to let them know the game was cancelled. The message got mixed up, and the wrong team was told not to come, and obviously the wrong team came. So, two teams wasted their morning. UGHH!

But it was such a nice day. It seemed like we ought to do something, since we didn't have the game. Britt had a project at the house he wanted to finish. That took him a few hours, but there was still a few hours of good daylight. Britt and Garrett had not drawn out for the hunt, which was too bad, because maybe they would have been better off hunting.

Well, I said to Britt, let's go for a hike, or we could watch a movie, or just take a walk. He said, how about we go for a motorcycle ride? All right. Took us a while to get going. We couldn't get Cole's KTM to start. Britt tipped it over to fix it and when he turned it upright, he broke the exhaust pipe. So, in frustration, he told Cole to get on the little Yahama, which is also broken, but at least rideable. Then, Britt took off on his motorcycle, sending gravel flying back at those of us who were waiting to go.

That's just the beginning of the story. We finally got on our way. Sorry, I didn't take any pictures of our crew. As I said, it was such a process to get going, I just didn't feel like taking any pictures. Garrett was on the Honda CR50. Cole on the Yamaha YZ50. I was on the Honda 4-wheeler with Tyler, Rachel and Olivia.

We headed toward the canyon next to our house. The path we took started just past the college. Britt was in the lead, but he kept stopping to wait and see if us girls made it okay down some of the rougher parts of the trail. Then, I came around the corner on the 4-wheeler and I could tell something was wrong. Britt was yelling his head off and then he threw down the bike and hopped on one foot off the path and sat down in the brush.

Cole wants me to let you know he was swearing like crazy.

Tyler was terribly concerned, and wanted to run over and help him, but I made her get back on the 4-wheeler. I pushed Britt's bike out of the way, then he reminded me to turn off the gas.
He was pretty ticked off, so none of us could do anything right. I told the girls to get off the 4-wheeler and start walking back up the trail, with Cole leading them on his motorcycle.

I could see that Britt's foot was bleeding inside his tennis shoe, the top of the shoe was torn up. It took him a while before he was willing to leave the place where he was sitting. He was in a lot of pain, and really freakin mad at that stupid motorcycle. I won't tell you all the things he said; they are not meant for tender ears.

I brought the 4-wheeler further up the path, and turned it around. He got on the back, and we started back up the hill. Then, he kicked me out of the driver's seat, because I wasn't plowing up the hills aggressively enough for him. Once we had gone far enough up the hills, he let me drive again. I passed the girls and Cole, and told them I would come back for them. (We honestly weren't that far from home).

Once I got Britt home, I tried to convince him to get in the van, so I could take him to the doctor, but he did NOT want to go. So, I got him situated on the couch, with his foot propped up on pillows. I gave him two prescription Motrin pills. He wouldn't let me take the shoe off.

I went back for the girls, and got them home. We put all the bikes, including the upside-down KTM--turned right-side-up--into the shed.

The girls noticed that some cards had been left for us from Grandpa Joe and Grandma Carol, for our anniversary and Olivia's birthday (just a little late), so I called Joe to thank them. "I'm in Salt Lake," Joe said, "It was Jesse who brought those to Blanding for us." Then he asked how we were doing. And I told him. He said to call Jesse and have him bring Britt's bike back for us.

Well, Jesse was on the Monticello side of the mountain, gutting the deer he had just shot. I said, don't worry about us, we'll figure something out.

So then the kids got on the phone and started calling people. Cole called Macdonalds to tell his friend Preston that his dad has broken in his foot. Preston was out hunting with his dad, but his mom answered, and when she heard the story, she offered to help. She came right over, and helped me convince him to take his shoe off. There was a great gash down the side of his second toe, and the ball of his foot was swollen something fierce.

The kids were all starving, so I made them pasta while Lisa took care of his foot, washing the dirt and rocks out of it. (Good thing it was her, because I don't think he would have been so nice to me beating up--carefully--on his foot). Meanwhile, I had tried to call a few different people to help bring back the bike. Everyone was on the mountain.

But DeAnn Hunt read between the lines of the story she got from her daughter (one of the people I called), and decided to come over and try to help. She helped clean up the kitchen after the kids were done eating. She also got the kids ready for bed later, after I finally took Britt to the doctor. Yes, we actually convinced Britt to see a doctor. Apparently the left-over pain medication we had given him kicked enough to calm him down and make him reasonable enough to deal with whatever pain the doctor might subject him to.

And then, Garrett had called James Hughes to tell him what had happened. James is Garrett's scout leader. I got on the phone, and asked him to come give Britt a blessing. After he and Brady Tanner gave Britt a blessing, they helped him get out to the van. We all convinced him that at the very least, he would need stitches.

Garrett wants me to tell you that Britt did NOT want to get stitches, because he would not be able to take a shower.

Long story short: Britt has five broken toes, and the laceration on the side of his toe was stitched up. Michelle Lyman, the Physician's Assistant who doctored his wounds, said he was lucky he didn't tear the tendon, which was exposed, or damage the nerve which was also visible under the tendon. She had to work carefully to avoid those as she stitched his skin back together. She also had to do a digital block, which meant poking a needle in the nerve of each toe. OUCH. OUCH. OUCH!!! Then, once he was stitched up, she pulled all three middle toes back into alignment. Oh man, just describing it is making me hurt.

I am such a wimp, the nurse had to hold his toe while she stitched it, because I didn't want to be that close to the whole process. Now I am feeling guilty about that, but there it is.

This is how Britt described what happened. He was coming around a corner, hugging the inside of the turn. As he came around, his left foot hit a rock jutting out of the ground. The momentum of the motorcycle shoved the front of his foot under the footpeg, crushing it between the peg and the rock. I guess it could be worse. Let's cross our fingers this is an injury that doesn't require surgery. We just hate recovering from those surgeries (right, Mom?).

Well, I just have to say, my kids were having a great time out on a family ride, right up until that moment. Oh well. Guess that is how it goes sometimes. Thanks to all our friends for looking out for us. Here we go again. Anyone out there looking to buy a motorcycle?