I woke up early yesterday morning because I had to drink a bottle full of barium sulfate before I went to the hospital for a CT scan.  I had been dreading the drink since the moment they gave it to me, even though it had a label on the front that claimed it tasted like a “berry smoothie.”  Quite frankly, berry it wasn’t.

It tasted like thick milky chalk and that’s being kind.  Within about 20 minutes of starting to drink it, I began throwing it back up.  I called the hospital and got this guy named Gary on the phone who seemed a little too cheerful for 6:20 a.m.  He told me that I might be having an allergic reaction and to come on it.

When I got there, Gary met me in the lobby and gave me something else to drink that we were going to substitute for the chalky drink.  Unfortunately, it still contained barium sulfate which we quickly learned I could not tolerate.  Gary and I sat in chairs beside each other, staring at the wall while I tried to drink that junk.  Every few minutes, I would hand him the glass and say “Gary, I’m done.”  And then Gary would say “No you aren’t” and hand the drink back to me so I could keep trying to get it down.

Eventually I tried another tactic with Gary.  “Gary, I’m having a really bad day.  I’m done drinking this junk.”  Gary just laughed at me and sat there beside me while I drank it.  Little did Gary know that I was silently cursing the entire time; not cursing him, just the barium junk.

I finally choked it down, got on the CT table and waited for Gary to hook-up my IV.  “You’re going to have a hard time getting it in,” I told him.  “No I won’t,” he said.  Four tries later, we had an IV line going and they were ready to start sending the dye through my IV line.  They did the scan and, when Gary walked up to me, I pointed at the trashcan with one hand while covering my mouth with the other hand.  Gary held the trashcan for me while I threw up every last drop of barium sulfate my body could find.  When I finished, I looked at Gary and said “I’m having a really bad day.”

It felt good to say it to someone and not feel guilty about it.

Well, yesterday morning’s tests went fairly well.  I arrived at the hospital before the sun rose armed with 42 papers to grade, expecting to be productive while they took a little peek at my gallbladder, liver and intestines.  Unfortunately, as it turns out, to have the tests done you have to lay flat on your back inside a machine with an IV in your arm so grading those papers didn’t actually, you know, happen.

What did happen, however, is that the technician couldn’t get the IV line into my arm so I laid there staring at the ceiling thinking about the one time I was in the ER and they were trying to get an IV line in and it took 13 tries before it worked.  I started to get a little nervous, so I made myself thing about this new project I want to do where I would write down all the things I want the fabulous five to know as they grow up, just in case I’m not around in their lives to tell it to them myself.  I’m not planning to die, of course, but there are things that only I know that they will need to know when they wonder what they were like as little girls.

Who will tell MacKenzie that, every single time she came to spend the night with me, she proudly pulled out whatever pair of pajamas she had packed so that I would ooh and ahh over them?  Who will tell Angelina that I really wasn’t joking when I told her she had a beautiful voice every single time she sang to me from the backseat of my car?  Who will tell Aviean that she looks just like my mother did at her age, a spitting image of the picture my grandfather drew of my mother?  Who will tell Juliana that she used to put her hands on her hips and stare me down when she was in trouble for something?  And who will tease Olivia about how she used to run through my living room screaming “naked babies!” as loud as she could?  As you can see, I obviously need to start writing these things down for them.

Once the IV got started, they put me in the machine and I fell asleep thanks to a little something they gave me to help me be less anxious.  The first test as an hour long and I slept right through it.  The second test was a little different; it was an hour and a half and it involved my IV plus a different drug going in through the IV port.  I slept through most of it, too, until the nausea hit and I started trying to move around in the machine.  The nurse told me through the speaker system to try to keep from moving and, bless her heart, she counted down the minutes left until I could throw up.

I go back this morning for another test; they’re tracking everything in a 24 hour time span.  I’m having a CT this morning which means another bit of time in a different machine with yet another IV, but I can handle it.  I’m actually trying to choke down one of those chalky drinks they give you before a CT as I write this; let’s just say it isn’t going very well so far.  They call it “berry smoothie” flavored, but I’m not tasting the berries just yet.

Within about a week, I’ll have the results from these tests and we’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.  I cannot explain how anxious I am about what these test results will show.  Basically, they’re testing me for a disease that may have been misidentified as Ovarian Disease.  If it’s this other disease, it would be an answer to prayer because surgery could fix most, if not all, of my health problems.

If it isn’t this other disease, I’m still left with the same diagnosis of infertility, chronic pain, etc.  And, if that’s the news I get, I can guarantee you that I will be a very sad girl.

But, as you hopefully remember, I promised myself that as soon as I did these appointments, I would let myself show you some of the pictures of the fabulous five that I took in a wooded area right outside of town.  Since I’m finishing up the tests this morning, I think it is only fair that I get to show you the pictures today.  That way, while I’m back in the machine for another couple of hours this morning, I can rest assured that you all are having a fit over just how darling the fabulous five are wearing their fairy wings while they traipse around the forest.

(Click any image to view in full size.)

Darling, darling, darling.  Didn’t I tell you?

Well, I had planned to take you on a tour of all things wedding, but instead I’m at the hospital having a scan done. They called me yesterday afternoon and told me to be here at 6:30 am. I’m waiting for the IV to get everything in and then they’ll put me in the machine (I’m blogging from my phone). I’m pretty anxious about spending two to three hours inside a machine, so if you see this on Tuesday morning, please pray for me. I’m sitting here staring at the machine and I’m kinda unnerved. Okay, really unnerved.

Too bad I can’t take my phone into the machine with me or I’d totally blog for the entire test.

I am a sleepy puppy this morning.  We had my cousin Marisa’s bachelorette party (!) this weekend as well as her bridal shower.  I spent yesterday laying on my couch watching episodes of Whale Wars while trying to recover from all the bridal fun but I’m still pretty tired this morning.

As you can see, I’m not the only one who sometimes falls asleep whilst sitting on the couch.

Tomorrow, I take you deep into the world of all things wedding — pictures, stories, oh my!

I mean, if I stay awake long enough to write the post.

On Thursday night, when we were eating in the campus dining hall, Gosling thought he’d be smooth and steal a bite of Angelina’s slice of pizza when she wasn’t looking.  Little did he know that Angelina believes in the concept of an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, and a bite of food for a bite of food.

Exhibit A: Gosling, staring in disbelief as Angelina picks up the sandwich he had just carefully created.

Exhibit B: Gosling laughing to himself, thinking “Oh, she won’t go through with it.”  Notice that you can see the pizza in his mouth.  Angelina likes to serve her revenge while the iron is still hot.

Exhibit C: “OH NO, YOU DIDN’T.”  “Oh yes, yes I did Papa Gosling.”

Exhibit D: Please note Angelina’s look of satisfaction as she goes in for the bite.

Exhibit E: Please note Angelina’s smug smile as she enjoys Gosling’s sandwich.

Please note that it is unlikely that Gosling will ever try to steal her food again.

When I heard that a “puppet show” was coming to our college campus, I decided that it was a perfect event to take some of the fab five to — especially since I want them to be exposed to the arts!  I immediately marked the date on my calendar, which happened to be last night.

I couldn’t bring MacKenzie in from Knoxville for it, but I was able to round up the other four members of our fab five for a night “on da cwollege campus.”  The girls love to come to work with me, so I surprised them by taking them to the campus dining hall for dinner.   To make it even more fun, I asked Gosling and one of my college girls, Anna, to meet us there.

Needless to say, the dining hall did not disappoint the girls.

Even with help from Gosling, Anna and Anna’s sister (who is a new college student!), I still couldn’t keep the four girls under control.  At one point, I looked up from where I was helping Angelina get a slice of pizza only to see Gosling carrying the other three girls in his arms across the dining hall.  Good thing those girls are little, right Gos?

After we finished dinner, we walked over to the building where the puppet show was being held.

When I show you pictures like the one above, are you just in love with the fabulous five (MacKenzie, too!)?  I get so frustrated sometimes because I can’t figure out how to explain just how darling these girls are on a blog.  You just can’t understand it until you’ve met them but try, for me, to fall in love with them through the computer screen, okay?

We had seats reserved on the second row, so the girls had a perfect view of the stage.  As we got settled into our seats, Anna handed me the program for the performance and mentioned that she wasn’t sure if it was appropriate for children or not.  It didn’t take me long to realize that we weren’t going to be seeing cute, sweet puppets as I had imagined but instead a show about “vicious, mean-hearted puppets” (no, really, that was a direct quote).  Instead of it being a puppet show for children, it was some kind of artsy, foreign puppet show for adults.  Before I could even consider getting up to leave, the lights went down and the show began.

I cannot remember a time in recent history when I have had to try so hard to keep from laughing.  The puppets were “scary” and, before three minutes had gone by, Gosling, Anna and I all had little girls in our laps.  Gosling had two of the little girls in his lap and he and I kept looking at each other and trying to choke back laughter.  I thought I had come up with this awesome, cultural event for the girls to go to and they were about to wet themselves right there on the second row.

About halfway through the performance, Aviean had to go to the bathroom so I slipped out with her.  On our way out of the row, I stepped on Gosling’s foot just to be silly but didn’t realize until too late that the foot I stepped on was the one he recently fractured (sorry again about that, pal).  While we were in the bathroom, Aviean informed me that, when she grows up, she wants to be a puppet.  On our way back into the theater, I reminded Aviean to be quiet as we went back in.  She obeyed me until we got directly to the front of the auditorium where she announced, in a very loud voice, “FREE INTERNET!” I gasped and reached over to cover her mouth but, before I could get my hand there, she broke out with “Would you like a lollipop, lady?”

Speaking of the whole lollipop thing, I cannot believe I haven’t told you all this yet.  Do you remember the day I told you about how she kept asking people in Target if they’d like a lollipop?  A few hours after I wrote that post, I got the following message in my Facebook inbox from a girl in my town who reads my blog:

“I was at Target yesterday afternoon… and thought I saw Aviean {with her mom}.  I’ve just seen pictures from your blog so I wasn’t sure if it was her or not.  She was sitting in the buggy and as we passed by, she asked if I wanted a lollipop.”

Jaclyn, I hope you didn’t hold out hope for a lollipop.  So far, Aviean hasn’t delivered any to the other 87 people she’s offered them to during random trips to Target.

Anyway, we made it through the puppet show but not without Juliana cowering in Gosling’s lap while repeatedly saying “Da puppets are scwary!” over and over again while Olivia buried her face in my chest.  Even Anna, who has a good attitude about everything, leaned over to whisper that, if there was an intermission, she was leaving me with the kidlets.

I think it is safe to say that you’ve never seen kids more excited to see the end of a “puppet show” than these.

Oh yes, Papa Gosling carried three of them on his shoulders, back and arms all the way to my car.

Yesterday, I asked Becky if I could tell you about how she and I met when I showed you her engagement pictures and she happily agreed.  If you only knew half of Becky’s story, you would fall in love with her just like I did.

A couple of years before I began writing this blog, I took an interim position as assistant director of a residential treatment program for girls who needed help with various problems in their lives.  The woman whose spot I was filling was on maternity leave, so for four months, I lived in Nashville working very long hours in a very intense work environment.  The home cared for 43 girls at a time (!) and I can still remember the names and faces of each girl who came through the program while I was there.  From my very first day on the job, one stood out to me in particular — Becky.

Over the next four months, I got to see Becky be set free by God and healed of so many things that had been done to her.  I won’t go into details, because it’s Becky’s story to tell, but let me tell you something: that girl fought hard to become free.  A couple of months after my interim position at the home was up, I traveled back to Nashville on a cold Thursday morning to watch Becky graduate from the program.  She didn’t know what would come next for her in life.  I brought her an application from the college I was (and am) employed by and, a short time later, Becky moved to my town and enrolled in classes.

As they say, the rest is history.  Becky finished college, met Tyler and became engaged.  I took their engagement pictures recently and, in a few months, I’m flying to Chicago to photograph their wedding.

When I met Becky, I had no idea that I would even see her after she graduated the treatment program.  Little did I know that God had knit our lives together and that I would get the pleasure of being the one to take pictures of her on her wedding day.

Happily ever after, indeed.

– — –

To see more of Tyler and Becky’s engagement photo shoot, go here.

The morning after my birthday, I loaded up three members of the fabulous five — Angelina, Juliana and Olivia — and set out on a trip to visit the farm I had taken Aviean too a couple of weeks before.  I want to expose them to so many different cultural things and, since we live in an area that has access to plenty of rural areas, I definitely want them to see farmland up close.

We had a blast!  Can you tell?

The farm has every kind of bird, chicken, cow, etc. that you can imagine.  When I had called the owners to ask if I could bring the girls up, they told me that they had two baby piglets — one that was two weeks old and one that was four weeks old.  I never thought I’d write these words, but I think I’ve fallen in love with piglets.

Mom, I know this is going to be hard for you to read, since you are the anti-swine leader of the free world, but despite your best efforts to raise me as a anti-swine girl, I fell victim to the curse… the curse of thinking baby piglets are darling!

Y’all do remember that one of my college roommates had a piglet for a pet, right?  And that, ever since hearing about how she trained it like a dog, I’ve wanted one?

All I have to say is come to mama, itty bitty piglet!

That’s a good wittle, tiny piglet!  Yes he is!  Yes he is a good wittle piglet!

Anyway, there were some turkeys, too.  Fun fact: growing up, my cousins and I ate chicken nuggets on Thanksgiving instead of turkey.  I had a masters degree before I ever tried turkey on Thanksgiving Day and the only reason I tried it then was because I was meeting my then-boyfriend’s parents and I wanted to make a good impression on his mom.  I tried sweet potatoes and stuffing for the first time in my life that day, too.

They had goats, too.  Fun fact: one of my best friends in high school had goats in her backyard.  They were the fainting kind of goats.  Another fun fact: my high school was surrounded by a pasture.  Sometimes there were snakes or mice in the hallway or in a classroom or two.  One time I got sent to the principal’s office because there was a mouse in my math classroom and I wouldn’t get down from standing on my chair until the mouse was caught.

Please note the expression on Juliana’s face as she watches the goat be milked.

Please note the farmer feeding the piglet by bottle while we watched.

Please note that I would like a piglet to feed from a bottle.  Please note that my mother is now picking up her phone to text me.  Please note that her text will say “I DID NOT RAISE YOU TO BE LIKE THIS.”  Please note that her text will be in all caps because that is how she texts when she’s confronted with something as “evil” as swine.

Please note that I am now going to go search the internet for places that sell pet piglets.

All day today, as my college girls have been watching the video I put up of the girls in this morning’s post, I’ve gotten the funniest texts and in-person comments from them about Olivia asking me in the video if she could take her pants off.

We’ve been cracking up today because the whole “Can I take my pants off?” thing is vintage Olivia. I have no idea why, but Olivia is obsessed with being naked. On a routine basis (as in every single night) at some point Olivia will get out of my eyesight, remove all of her clothing except her diaper and run through my house yelling “NAKED BABIES! NAKED BABIES! NAKED BABIES!” as loud as she can. She thinks it is the funniest thing ever, and since she tends to do it in front of people at my house who burst out laughing, she thinks everyone else thinks it is the funniest thing ever, too.

I’ll never forget one Saturday when Olivia was in the ICU. They wouldn’t put anything on her other than a diaper and socks and they had shaved part of her head when they were trying to save her. On my way to the hospital, I stopped at a Target right off the exit because I needed some toothpaste or something (I was spending my nights in the ICU room with her). As I passed by the section of baby clothes, I couldn’t help myself: I went and found a pair of tiny pink socks and a little pink bow and bought them, too. When I got back to the hospital, I put the socks on Olivia’s feet and pulled back some of her hair with the little bow. The doctors encouraged us to talk to her while she was sedated, so as I was getting her all “dressed up” in her socks and fixing her hair, I excitedly told her that I was getting her all decked out for an exciting night in the ICU. As I was sitting beside her bed that night, trying to think of things to tell her, I suddenly thought about how happy she would be if she knew that she was getting to play her favorite game of “naked baby.” I remember sitting by her hospital bed, crying, thinking about how 24 hours before her accident, she had run through my living room yelling “naked babies, naked babies!”

And that is exactly why I don’t mind her doing it these days.

After working part of the day yesterday, I headed to downtown Chattanooga for another doctor’s appointment.  Over the last four months, I’ve been having routine blood work done as I’ve tried different medicines out.  Four or five levels have either been too high or too low throughout the four months, one of them being my liver enzymes.  During my appointment with a specialist yesterday afternoon, I couldn’t help but start laughing when the doctor kept repeatedly asking me if I’m sure I haven’t been a heavy alcohol drinker.  She kept mentioning my age and how she wouldn’t judge me if I like to party and, the longer she went on, the funnier it became to me because the closest thing I’ve come to drinking lately is a glass of Sunny Delight on the rocks.

I don’t write about this a lot, because I’m afraid it can come off as judgmental, but I actually don’t drink at all — as in I’ve never had alcohol in my life.  When I turned 21, I was in full-time vocational ministry and, since I was serving young, impressionable girls, I didn’t drink — ever.  Once that season of my life ended, I decided that it was probably best for me not to drink given the fact that I have an addictive personality.  I can’t be certain that I would become addicted to alcohol, but I know myself well enough to know that there’s no reason to even put the temptation in front of me.  I don’t know if I’ll always feel this way about alcohol but, as for right now in life, it just can’t be a part of my life.  I’ve been called boring and a prude, labels that are probably rightfully deserved, but so be it.  I simply don’t trust myself enough with alcohol.

While I was waiting at the doctor’s office yesterday, I pulled out a folder of coupons from my purse and began organizing them by what products they were for — food, diapers, cleaning supplies.  As I sat there thumbing through coupons for children’s vitamins and baby wipes, I couldn’t help but think about the post I wrote on Saturday night about be fearful when it comes to my relationship with the fabulous five.  I thought about how very real those feelings were and are to me and then I thought about how those fears don’t really match up with the action of clipping coupons for diapers for children that are not mine.

I am more fearful about the girls than I admit.  I’m investing a lot of myself — my emotions, my energy, my time, my money — into little lives that could be gone from my life as quickly as they arrived.  I am investing in five little futures that I may or may not be a part of down the road.  I am feeding bellies and washing bodies and fixing hair that doesn’t belong to me.

But sometimes we just have to do it afraid, don’t we?

– — –

P.S. — Last night, after I fed the girls dinner, I was practicing animal sounds with Juliana and Olivia.  I couldn’t help but grab my camera and get a few seconds of the fun for you to see.  Highlights of the video include Juliana becoming very concerned about whether or not there are enough clothes in the closet for her and the girls bouncing around like monkeys on their bed.

P.P.S. — When the girls climb onto my lap, they say “I’m a monkey, climbing a tree!” and then they make that monkey sound you heard in the video.  You can’t handle the darlingness, can you?  It’s okay; I can’t either.