That one prayer.

It wouldn't be hard for me to recall the number of times I have begged God to hear 'that one prayer'. 'That one prayer' usually comes in a very desperate moment when I have to dig deep within myself to see where my faith lies. And it never ends up being just one prayer, but in fact several of the same prayer, repeated over and over like a broken record, just in case He didn't hear the first 100 times. But it gives me comfort to say His name over and over until I'm consumed with His love. Saturday morning, I called on one name more than any other. I called out for my Divine Heavenly Father. I had to plead with Him to hear 'that one prayer' twice. And I know that He did.

It is a daily battle now to catch my breath. I have to make breakfast while sitting down, as well as doing Elle's hair and showering. I'm getting used to feeling like I'm going to topple over at any minute. I've just assumed that it's part of the process with this little one inside me. Before I go to a store I make sure I've stocked my belly with food so I don't relive my Wal Mart incident.

Saturday morning I decided to brave Costco because we were in desperate need of food. Elle wanted to come with me, so we loaded up first thing in the morning so we could be one of the first ones there. While she waited in the car for me, I made myself half a peanut butter sandwich, just in case the bowl of cereal wouldn't provide enough energy. We drove off and I ate it in the car. About 8 minutes past my house I started to feel short of breath. It got progressively worse with every second. I rolled down the window to see if that would help, but I still wasn't able to catch my breath. I felt like I was being suffocated. I kept repeating to myself,

"I can't breath, I can't breath...what do I do...oh crap..." All the while, Elle was in the back asking if I was okay.

I started to feel the cold sweat come on and my vision started to blur. I quickly pulled off onto the next street I could, slammed the car in park and tried to reposition myself. I knew if I tried to get out and stand up, I'd fall over, so I tried laying on the console.

That was when I passed out.

I'm not sure how long I was out, but I remember waking up to screaming. Again.

I couldn't hear it very well, it sounded very distant, but I knew it was Elle. She was crying out, "Mommy, Mommy, wake up! Mommy!!!!!" I tried to lift my head but couldn't. I was still out of breath. I touched my head and felt drips of sweat coming down. My right arm was numb and my body felt like it weighed 3 tons. Elle's crying kept coming in and out. Which I guess means that I was going in and out of conscience-ness. It almost felt like I was drowning. I couldn't breath and I couldn't do anything about it. Elle was still screaming. This time I heard her yell, "Unbuckle me! Unbuckle me! Call daddy, I want daddy, let's go home!!"

While she was crying out to go home, I was also crying out to home. I had 'that one prayer' in my mind. I kept repeating,

Heavenly Father, Heavenly Father....but I couldn't put any words behind it. I just called His name.

At one point I wondered...
Is this how I'm going to die. Am I dying? Will someone find me in time to save the baby? What about Elle? Is she going to watch me die here?

Heavenly Father, Heavenly Father, Heavenly Father....

Still, no strength to move.

I don't want to die.

It was that thought that got the ball rolling.

Phone, where's my phone?

It took several attempts to try and reach it on the passenger floor, but I was able to reach it and punch in H.O which brought up my home number. I touched the screen and it called Brian. He answered and all I had strength to say was, "I need help." He asked where I was and I told him I was at the river bottoms. He told me he was calling 911 and he'd be right there.

My phone then rang and I hit the screen. It was the fire department or someone, I'm not sure, they were asking me lots of questions and told me to stay on the line.

A few minutes later a police officer came to my window, I was still draped over the console struggling to breath and lift my head. He asked if I was in labor. I shook my head no. He tried to ask me millions of questions and told me to keep talking.

Yeah right. Stop talking to me. I'm trying to breath here.

Instead of talking to him, I handed him my phone so he and phone guy could have a nice conversation and leave me a lone. It was too hard to answer all of their questions. Finally, the police officer went to comfort Elle. He asked her what her name was and she clearly said, "Elle." He repeated, "Ella? That's a pretty name." I wanted so badly to correct him, but I couldn't.

I then heard the sirens coming. Brian and the paramedics showed up at the same time. Brian got Elle, and the Paramedics got me. They put me on a stretcher and hooked me up to oxygen and we were off.

Life started to get more normal from that point on. It felt good to lie down and finally catch my breath. They were busy poking my veins to try and get an IV in. It took them 3 tries. While they were busy hooking me up to stuff, pricking my finger, and doing whatever else they were doing, I was trying to stop shaking while I stared at the vents on the ceiling. They were cranking out some serious heat. I had the chills pretty bad and they kept talking about my coloring and how pale I was.

We got to the hospital and I got hooked up to a million other machines. The women's center came down to hook up the baby and monitor her, the EKG guy came in with his gadgets, I got more IV's, oxygen, blood pressure and whatever else they do. When the craziness finally died down, I saw Brian walk through the door.

He had been crying.

When he saw me, his tears started again. I couldn't help but break at that moment also. I quickly told him that I was okay, and baby was okay. It was such a relief to see him. He was my little savior that day. He brought with him Patty, the Relief Society President and her husband, Lee. They live across the street from us. Brian and Lee laid their hands on my head and gave me a blessing. I felt at peace.

The doctor came in and told me that he's concerned I might have Pulmonary Embolism. Which is a blood clot in the lungs. He ordered a CT scan for me. That's when we had issues. He told me that the radiation from the scan can not be totally blocked from the fetus.

I refused the test. The thought of having radiation that close to the baby wasn't even an option for me, and it scared me to death. I was being quite stubborn, so he told me he would consult with my OB and come back.

My dad showed up not long after and stayed with Brian and I through the rest of the day. He told us story after story to keep our minds occupied. I grilled every nurse I could about the CT scan. They all told me that I should do it. My OB said I should do it. When I had a heart to heart with the physician, I asked him what would happen if I had never come here and I did in fact have PE but it went undetected. He said quite simply..."you die."

"Okay. Fine. I'll do the scan."

Brian and I stared at the paper we were supposed to sign that states the hospital is not responsible for any complications, including death to the fetus.

"How am I supposed to sign this?" I asked.

He said, "You have to. We have to find out what's wrong."

So I signed and told him to not stop praying for our little baby.

They shielded me and I laid down on the table and went inside the ring of radiation. The machine told me repeatedly to take a breath and hold it. I went in and out of the ring. They pumped warm fluid through my IV and sent me in the ring again. I cried my eyes out through the entire scan. As I laid there with my arm up and my body inside the ring, I found myself uttering 'that one prayer' once again.

Please Heavenly Father protect this baby. Please hear this one prayer and protect our little baby. Please Heavenly Father...please....

I was hysterical. The radiation guy didn't know what to say when he came back and saw that I was sobbing.

He wheeled me back to my room and we waited. It took hours. When we finally spoke to the doctor, he told us the good news. My lungs were clear. The bad news was, they didn't know what was wrong with me. The ball got put back in my OB's court. They sent me home.

That night, Brian took the kids to his parents house so I could rest. When they came home, Elle saw me in bed and she climbed up into my arms and wrapped her little arms around mine as tight as she could and nestled herself next to me. She fell asleep not long after. She had a very traumatic day as well and we ended it together. I didn't want to let go of her, so we just snuggled. I think we were both feeling grateful for our lives that day and grateful for each other.

It's now Monday and I met with one of the Doctors in my clinic today. I have been ordered to do more blood tests to check my thyroid and I will be wearing an EKG monitor on my heart. Brian has taken my car keys away and banned me from doing any driving whatsoever. I don't like being told what to do, so I'm struggling a bit with that, but I'm feeling so grateful for the outpouring of love that we have received. The neighbors have gone above and beyond to help us, feed us, and volunteer their time to help me get the kids to school and back, etc... My family and Brian's family have done the same. It's humbling, really. I don't know what more to say, other than, my days of over-doing-it are over. It's time for me to learn a lesson on how to trust and depend on others and take it easy. A lesson I'm not good at learning. Brian keeps reassuring me that this is only temporary. We have about 5 weeks left and then we'll have this little baby. Until then, I'm on house arrest, unless I have an escort.

This sweet little baby is blessing us with a simpler life. Brian will be working from home more now, he's done teaching, the temple is being cleaned this month and he will be home every night of the week in December. I don't know the last time I was able to say that. I feel truly blessed.