The Luckiest Girl in the World

My mind is heavy and my heart is full.

I just finished reading Stephanie Nielsen’s book, Heaven is Here.

Please forgive me as I try to organize all the different thoughts and emotions that are taking center stage within me right now.

I have mentioned before that I envy her. And I still do. Again, not because of the terrible tragedy that occurred, but because of who she is and what she has.

Prior to the accident, she readily admitted that she had everything she ever wanted. After reading her memoir, I have to agree. Did this girl ever want for anything growing up? Ever?? She had a large family that obviously adores and cares for each other, loving grandparents and parents that lived their own fairy-tale love stories, and what can only be described as a charmed life. It’s hard not to compare my fractured youth with hers and NOT be envious.

And then I got to read about how beautiful she KNEW she was and all about her Disney-worthy courtship, wedding, and marriage. And THEN to add insult to injury, I read about her four darling, perfect children that came when she wanted them to. Everything was perfect! Oh sure she was upset about being away from her family for a few years, and she was really sick throughout all of her pregnancies, but even she acknowledged those were small prices to pay for all the wonderful things she had in her life. She was born to be a wife and mother and it comes second-nature to her in a way that it never has for me.

She is one of those people that I thought about when I heard Elder Holland’s talk this last General Conference. Oh, and she knows him personally, by the way. He basically said to not let other’s happiness cause you grief. Heavenly Father loves all equally, and we are ALL entitled to the same eternal blessings.

As I was reading the book, I would glance up at Todd every once in a while. He is done with school now and is reveling in his freedom. I tried to look at him and see him as the man I fell in love with. I ignored all the inconsequential fodder that I have allowed to block my vision lately. Todd loves me. He loves Rylin. He loves the baby boy squirming within my abdomen right now. He might not always complete tasks on the same timeline as everyone else, but he completes them. He wants to provide, protect, and preside over this family. He might not show me he cares in the manner I wish him to, but he does so consistently in his own way. He needs me. He depends upon me. And I haven’t always been there for him. I have resented him for his shortcomings. I have not been the wife that I wanted to be, nor the partner I promised to be.

I have been extremely short on patience with Rylin lately. She’s been on-and-off sick and teething since the beginning of December. Todd has been busy and sick as well, which means I feel like a single parent sometimes (I am quite certain he does too). I felt like I needed to fight for my “me time” and would sometimes ignore Rylin just so I could have time to do something by myself. I sincerely hope she doesn’t remember these last few months. She is too young to understand what is going on. All she knows is that Daddy and Mommy haven’t been the same to her lately. Her type of crying and her eyes show the confusion and hurt she is feeling.

She has started pulling her lower lip in when she cries. It makes her look like a kid I was counselor for at camp. This kid was a nightmare. She punched, hit, bit, and kicked the other girls. She was deceitful and manipulative so that you would feel sorry for her and then she would betray you. Oh, and she was 10. She almost got sent home from camp, and was not accepted back the next year. Needless to say, when Rylin is sobbing and turns in the doppelganger of that girl, it’s impossible for me to look at her and feel love, pity, compassion, anything other than contempt. That’s great mothering, isn’t it? I can’t even stand the sight of my child in that state, so I tell her to stop crying and I turn away. All she knows is that I am abandoning her when she just wants to be comforted. My daughter. The baby I wanted so desperately for 12 years. The little one we rejoiced over and prayed for.

I fed her dinner later than usual the other night. Todd was finishing up some last-minute school work on campus. I was at the end of a very long few days, and was just trying to get another load of dishes done before I passed out. Rylin had to wait in her chair for several minutes after she was finished eating so that I could start the dishwasher. She became impatient and started whining and crying. I tried to entertain her with songs as best I could and let her know I was almost done. I gave up singing when it had no effect. I lost it. I snapped my head around and yelled, “STOP IT!” Of course this just made her cry even harder. I finished my task, retrieved her, and instead of giving her a bath like usual, I just put her to bed, sticky hands and all. I was done. I knew I had to get her to calm down or she wouldn’t go to sleep at all. I put Peter Pan (current favorite) on while I changed her. I turned everything off and had her climb into bed. We said prayers and sang her night-night song. Before I got up, I told her I was sorry that I yelled at her and asked her if she would please forgive me. She hesitated for a second, but decisively said, “Yes!” She then said, “Hug” and reached her little arms out toward me. This almost brought tears to my eyes. After she has been in time out, we have her say sorry, then we tell her we love her, and then ask for a hug. Here was my two-year-old reminding me of the proper steps of an apology.

As I said my prayers last night, I thought of Rylin’s innocence. Of her unconditional love for me. How she readily forgives me and forgets how I have failed her. I know this won’t last. She won’t always be so resilient. I cringe to think that I will be responsible for her losing that.

It didn’t take a near-fatal airplane crash, more than 80% of my body burned, and millions of dollars in medical bills for me to feel like giving up. No, my torture consisted of three divorces of my parents, being on Church welfare after my Dad left, a defunct metabolism and the resulting self-esteem issues, placing my daughter for adoption, a miscarriage, fights with Todd, problems finding work, debt, abandonment issues, and just about losing everything that ever really mattered to me. Same as Stephanie.

But at the end of the day, I find myself even MORE like her than I thought.

I still have a husband that loves me even if I am flawed.

I still have a daughter who loves me despite my failings.

I still am able to have more children.

I still have the gospel.

I still have a Heavenly Father that loves me and will never give up on me. Ever.

And THAT makes me (and you), the luckiest girl in the world.

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