~

After trying for three years and seeing doctor after doctor, I was finally pregnant! I had no idea how my life would be changed forever. I was carrying an angel, and I didn’t even know it.

~

The day my whole world stopped, was October 5, 2005. I was eight months pregnant with a baby girl. It was my mother’s birthday. I hadn’t felt the baby move all day. I was worried, so I decided to call the doctor. They scheduled an appointment for me that same day.

~

When we went in, the nurse couldn’t find a heartbeat, so she called the doctor. He ordered an ultrasound and that’s when we found out that Madison was already gone. The doctor said there was nothing they could do besides deliver. I was in shock. It was all happening so quickly. I thought it was a mistake, I thought I would deliver, and I would hear her cry.

~

They sent me to the hospital so they could induce my labor. The hospital was just down the street, but it was the longest drive of my life. It was so quiet; nobody was speaking. There were a million thoughts going through my mind. When we arrived at the hospital, the nurses were so kind to us, but you could tell they didn’t know what to say. They placed a white rose on the door to let the other nurses know that the baby was going to be stillborn.

~

Twelve hours later on October 6, 2005, at 1:40 a.m., Madison Jean was born. She was so beautiful. She weighed 3lbs and she 19 ¾ inches long. She looked perfect. She had beautiful red hair and long fingers and toes.

~

The room was silent. The doctor and nurses left to give us some time with her. They said we could keep her in our room until we were discharged. We got to watch the sunrise together through the hospital window. I was holding Madison, it was such a peaceful feeling and somehow I had to find the strength to let her go.

~

The time we spent with her went by so fast, and before I knew it, it was time to say goodbye. The nurse came in and said we were being discharged. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I will never forget what the nurse said as she took Madison from me. She said, “Come on, Madison, it’s time to go.” She walked out, and the door shut behind her. I wanted to stop her and tell her that I wasn’t ready yet and that I needed more time, but I knew I couldn’t. I had to let her go.

~

The ride home without Madison and my pregnant belly was so hard. I was in shock because I was sure the world had stopped, but it was business as usual. It was time to start planning the funeral. I had never done this before. I had no idea where to start. All I wanted to do was stay in bed and try to make the pain of losing her stop, but I had to be strong for my family.

~

The funeral home set up a room with a rocking chair, so I could hold her and rock her one last time. They brought her in and she didn’t look like what I remembered. They had put a lot of makeup on her. She was dressed in the dress I picked out for her, and wrapped in the blanket her great grandmother made for her. I placed a necklace on her that said “little angel.” I also wrote her a letter and I placed it with her along with the white rose from the hospital door.

~

The funeral was October 12, 2005 at 2:00 pm. The service was beautiful. We had a balloon release with purple and white balloons to honor her. As we said a prayer and everyone released their balloon, they came together in the sky and formed what looked like a butterfly which was ironic because her nursery was purple butterflies. I knew at that moment I would be okay because she was with me always.

~

I am so lucky to have had an angel come into my life. She was ours for a moment and God’s forever.

~

The excitement of being involved with such a deployment quickly depleted as reality began to sink in, and we began to realize how dangerous our mission was becoming. We learned about weapons of mass destruction and how this was the weapon of choice in the region we were headed to.
~
About one week before the war began, the crew of the ship practiced a drill to ready themselves for entering waters with minefields. During the drill, the crew opened up valves which allowed sea water to enter into the bottom of the ship, allowing it to sit lower in the water, so that if we were to hit a mine, we could pump the water out and raise the hole above the water line and avoid sinking. The drill sounded simple enough. We watched our Navy comrades spring into action.

~

The problems arose when a valve stuck open and overfilled the well deck and flooded all our vehicles with salt-water. We were instantly overwhelmed when we realized all the work that created for us as mechanics, let alone just being through an ordeal where a ship was near sinking, as well as having to be ready to be mobilized on a moment’s notice. The next week was filled with long hours and little rest to ensure our vehicles and guns were ready when the orders came down.
~
Around 3:00 in the morning, the ship’s captain came over the intercom and said, “All hands on deck.” This meant for us to get dressed and into formation in the cold, dark night air. Once we were in formation, we were told the President of the United States had just declared war and we would be going ashore as soon as it was light out to begin our military campaign.
~
The next few hours were filled with anticipation and all the while watching the bombers light up the night sky to clear the way for us as we would soon be on dry land again, but not under the best of circumstances. The bombings continued non-stop for hours, taking out bridges, airports, and other strategic targets. Finally, the bombers stopped and then it was time to go and do our part. Were we trained enough? Did we have what it takes to stay alive? Would we someday get home to see our loved ones? These were all thoughts that would have to wait.

~
Once we landed, the scene was like that in a movie: burning oil wells shooting flames hundreds of feet in the air, oil droplets falling on everything, and the amount of destruction was devastating. I found it impossible to sleep for the first three nights. The amount of adrenaline flowing through my body has never been matched.
~
For days we travelled in convoys, headed for downtown Baghdad. The fourth night after landing, we were finally able to spend the night in an empty warehouse. Everyone was beyond exhausted.
~

After a couple of hours of sleep, the warning sirens went off, meaning that scud missiles were inbound, and heading our direction. As we had learned earlier in our training on the ship, this was the most effective method of delivering nerve agent by our enemies. Immediately, we were to put on our gas masks and be prepared for the worst. Fortunately, the gunners surrounding our area shot the scuds down at a safe distance with Tomahawk missiles.
~
The next few weeks were filled with convoys carrying supplies from base to base, with small fire fights from the resistance. After a while in convoy, you almost start to look forward to hearing rounds bouncing off your vehicle. That meant you got to stop and exchange fire for a while, which usually ended up with us capturing and taking prisoners to the rear for interrogation purposes.
~

Although all these things were scary enough on their own, probably the worst thing I encountered while serving the whole time over there was night runs in my wrecker to retrieve broken down vehicles from the middle of nowhere. I never realized how dark and desolate the desert could be at night.
~
While our main purpose was to retrieve the vehicle, the worst part was that it was only myself and two assistant drivers, and our wrecker. The A drivers only job was to protect me while I connected the truck to the wrecker.
~
Often times on these missions, we would take fire from small arms weapons, the only relief was that the Iraqis were not very precise shots. Thank God. The sound of bullets ricocheting off of anything around you was a sound you could never get used to. As you heard them you couldn’t help but think every time, the next one might not miss. After connecting a vehicle, we would load up all our gear and transport it to the nearest temporary base for repair in the daylight.
~

While I don’t ever want to experience a conflict of this magnitude again, I don’t regret a minute of it. I am proud to have served our country and fought for our freedoms. The experience of war changed me from a boy and grew me into a man.

The Lesson
by Angie Cloutier
Yavapai College
~
It was early in the morning on a fairly warm Saturday, for December in Prescott. I don’t know why I woke up so early. I do remember looking at the clock that had lost power in the night and thinking later that it was funny one of Joey’s favorite sayings had come to mind, “Aren’t you awake yet?” he would say. “It’s almost noon.” In my opinion, he rarely said this anywhere near noon. He would say it anytime after 8 a.m. as an indicator that it was time to get ready, there were things to do, lessons to be learned.

~

Joey was my grandfather. His name wasn’t even Joey. It was Clifton. I had adapted the name Joey because that is what he called us kids when we were growing up. A Joey is a small kangaroo, and I assumed he referred to us that way because we were always bouncing around and getting into things. In middle school, after some years of my calling him Joey, my Grams asked me why I didn’t call him grandpa anymore. I told her, without hesitation, “Everyone has a grandpa. I have something better. I have someone more important. I have a Joey.” She accepted this answer without question.

~

Everyone knew we were inseparable. So it wasn’t terribly odd that something he should say would pop into my head; but on this day, Joey wasn’t even in town and it was early. Like, Joey early. But here was the clock flashing 12:00 at me anyway. Joey was in Utah with Grams, doing yet another job. My grandparents traveled a lot for work back then. Having several hours to kill before anything important was supposed to happen, I decided to go for a walk, and then set about some menial tasks before work.

~

When the phone rang, my boyfriend, Bobby, answered it and handed it to me. It was my mother. As soon as she spoke, I knew something wasn’t right. There was a tension in her voice, mixed with relief for being able to reach me. “Oh good, I thought you’d be a work.”

~

I told her no, and that I didn’t work until later.

~

“Don’t leave Okay? I’m coming over.” I was confused by this and she could tell, but she persisted, “Just don’t leave. I’m on my way.”

~

I agreed and then hung up. There was a yet unexplained, nagging tightness in my stomach. I couldn’t focus anymore on what I had been doing. When Bobby came around the corner to see what was up, all I could say was, “Something’s wrong with Joey.” And immediately, I needed to sit down. I wandered like a zombie to the living room, and sat staring aimlessly and unfocused at our Christmas tree.

~

My answer, though seemingly out of the blue, stemmed from my knowledge that Joey was in the hospital for what was supposed to be a routine procedure (a stomach problem that required some surgery). My mother, being a medical assistant, had not been too concerned about the operation, but had called him anyway the night before to say she loved him and good luck. I had declined to speak to him, citing that he wasn’t feeling well, and I would call him when he was out of the hospital and up for talking, but I sent my love. And in this moment, sitting in my living room, dreading and anticipating my mother’s arrival, I had the sinking feeling that I would not be able to make that phone call.      

~

It’s funny how time can feel so differently depending on what’s going on around you. It felt like I sat there for hours, days even, rewinding and playing the same things over in my head. I began the careful process of self assurance and denial. How could I know it even had something to do with Joey? If anything, it was probably that the procedure hadn’t gone as planned. But surely he was fine; he would recover from whatever it was. After all, I would know if he had died. I would just know it, because I would feel it. You hear these stories about those whose loved ones die, and they always say, “I just knew,” or “I could feel it the moment it happened.”

~

Joey and I had always been close. He was my grandfather, my mentor; he had been teaching me my whole life. He had taken the place of my father when I had none. I learned the importance of growing up right and good through him. He taught me to wash my hands before dinner, never feed the dog from the table, taught me how to drive, how me how to maintain my car, to respect what was mine, and respect what I borrowed from others even more. This man was as much my best friend as he was my guide in the scary or troublesome times. His leadership, his guidance, his love, I could not be without these things. I could not go on without him, and he could not have left this earth without my knowing it! Right?

~

Then I bargained. You hear about the five stages of grief, but I was living them and in no particular order. I prayed. This is not something I do often. I am not one to be found asking “higher powers” for favors. But on this day, I sat on the couch, staring perhaps ironically at the small angel perched atop our tree, and I would have traded my soul for his had someone offered.  I told myself I would not take for granted even one more moment with him. I would do whatever I had to in order that he should know I cared about him above anyone else. I would spend more time with him; I would help him with anything he needed. So long as the powers that be let him be alive. But then I would very rationally remind myself that he simply could not be dead. I would know it. And then I would cry. All the while Bobby continuously trying to convince me not to get worked up, that I didn’t know anything yet.

~

When my mother finally arrived at my home, I froze. The moment I had so anxiously waited for, when she would come and tell me everything was okay, and yet I just couldn’t face it. I suppose I was afraid of the truth. I suppose I knew that things just couldn’t be right.

~

I heard her truck out front, and it was as if death himself was knocking on my door. I found myself utterly terrified to answer it. In the end, it was Bobby who moved to open the door for my mother and sister. I will never forget looking into her face and begging, like a child, to be wrong. In that moment, I was not 20 years old anymore. I was six, and I needed to be told the monsters in my head weren’t real. “Mommy, please just tell me he’s okay?” My mother, not knowing I had spent all this time agonizing over what had happened, simply thought someone else must’ve called and explained things to me already. She heaved a heavy sigh, “Someone told you already. I told them to wait until I got here. I can’t baby. I can’t fix it for you. He’s gone. I’m so sorry baby.”

~

I didn’t think people screamed like that in real life. When they did it in movies, I thought it was cheesy and unrealistic. And when I heard the noise; a loud “NO!” cutting through the air in my own home, I remember wondering who had done it, and then realizing it was me. I fell apart utterly and completely then. I begged, I pleaded, I asked what I was supposed to do without him.

~

I don’t remember much of the hours and days after that. It was as though my brain had decided to grant my soul its wish, that if he should not exist, I wouldn’t either, at least for a little while. It was a 12 hour drive to Utah, and I can only remember small fractions of time. One such time was my sister telling my mother that I was finally awake, and that I was crying. And my mother quietly reassuring her, “I know. It’s okay; sometimes she just needs to cry.” I remember how angry I felt. Irrational though it was, I expected that if my world had ended, so should everyone else’s. Cars shouldn’t be moving, stores shouldn’t be open, and no one should be talking to me.

~

This man, who had taught me everything I held as unwaveringly, infallibly right, he was gone from the world. I simply couldn’t see a world without him. I couldn’t comprehend a place where he was no longer my teacher, and I was no longer his student. In the weeks that followed, I found myself asking if I had done right by him. Had I learned enough? Had I shown him that I was paying attention? Who would teach me now? What if the lessons he taught me slipped away because he wasn’t there to reinforce them? Could I make him proud if he wasn’t there to remind me?

~

I wish I could say time heals all things, and that I’m fine now. But time only diminishes the pain; time only dulls the sharp sting of loss and allows you to be able to recollect someone without falling apart inside. In the end, Joey had one more lesson for me, and it was this, “Yes, you can live without me.” After the months of initial grief, and forging forward for years without him, I am coming to accept this lesson. I am now able to listen to songs on the radio we used to share without breaking down. I can talk about him with friends, family and strangers (usually without crying.) and most of all, I am able to take all of the lessons he taught me, and use them in my daily life. I find myself driving in a certain way, because of things he said. I scold others for feeding the dogs from the table or petting them while eating, because Joey never would’ve stood for it. And I am able to share his memory and his lessons with others, because he showed me I have the strength to push forward in life with him only in my heart, and not by my side. And I am thankful and I am thankful for the time we spent, and every lesson I learned.
~
Angie lives in Prescott Valley, Ariz.

~

Now I Remember
By Shimeka Brown
Grand Canyon University

~ 

The pain was something I had never felt before.

~

Being pregnant was different, but today was way out of the ordinary.  I awoke at six-thirty in the morning, and this pain hit me in my back and came around to the lower part of my stomach.  I thought that maybe I was laying the wrong way. Thinking that it would help, I tried to shift my body to the other side. 

~

On November 17, 1999, I found out I was pregnant. I was so excited.  This was my first pregnancy; I could not believe it, and it was as though I was dreaming. The doctor I went to see gave me some prenatal vitamins and iron pills to help my baby grow strong and healthy.  The next two months I felt ill and sick all the time, but I thought it was just morning sickness.

~

Soon, I started to lose weight instead of gaining it. My mother suggested that I go talk to my prenatal doctor, so I made an appointment to see him. He had some tests ran, and as I was on my way home, my cell phone rang. My doctor stated that he wanted me to come back to his office for some ultrasounds.

~

As soon as I returned to the doctor’s office a nurse was waiting for me. She put me in a room and asked me to remove my top, and gave me a gown to put on. My mind started to wonder, and I began to cry. When my doctor came in, he was not alone. Along side of him were three other doctors.  They took some ultrasounds and told me that my baby was not growing the way that it should be. The doctor decided to send me in for some special testing.

~

After all of the testing was done, the verdict was that my baby was not getting enough folic acid to help his bones develop correctly. The water in my sac was sipping into my babies head; if he were to make it he would be blind or have severe brain damage. All of my days seemed to go down hill from there. Throughout the months of my pregnancy, I could not get the thought of losing my baby out of my mind. I cried a lot; everyday I was depressed. My bedroom was the only room that I wanted to see. I sank into depression, and stayed away from people so that I would not have to answer questions about my pregnancy.

~

The day I went into labor was horrible, the pain was awful.  I rolled out of bed on my knees and screamed for my mother. I knew something was wrong because I was not due yet. I was only seven months; I still had two months left.  My mother entered my room in a hurry saying, “Is it time?”  I nodded my head yes.  My knees felt as though they were about to give out at any moment.  As I put my clothes on, I prayed for strength and that my baby would be okay.

~

On May 25, 2000, I was in the hospital in labor with my son. It seemed as if I was in labor for a long period of time. My doctor told me that they were just going to wait for my baby to come out. They did not want to take him, because the extra strain might harm him even more. I was in labor for seventy-two hours. Finally, on May 29, 2000, my son was born at two pounds and six ounces. I named him Qualyn Lucas. He was beautiful, and I loved him so much. I held him in my arms and kissed him as he lay there looking up at me. For three hours we lay in the hospital bed staring at each other.

~

Qualyn began to cough and gasp for air. The nurses ran in and took him to another room. After two hours they returned to tell me that he did not make it. The pain in my heart felt far worse than the pain of being in labor. I asked the nurse if I could see him one last time. As she pushed me into an operating room in my wheel chair, another nurse placed Qualyn in my arms. I kissed his cheek and it was so cold. I told him that I loved him and that he was special to me, but he was more special to God and that God wanted him back.

~

My soul felt so empty, and for a long time after my son’s passing I felt lonely and depressed. Every day after my son died I tried to live one day at a time. I started to go to church and gave my life to Christ. Now the thought of my son does not bring tears to my eyes; it is a happy thought, knowing that he did not have to suffer in this world. 

~

I have to keep moving in life. Yes, keep moving forward for the two blessings that God has blessed me with by the names of Shea and Jr. Qualyn is and always will be in my heart, so I thank God for him and my other two children. I want to make my son proud and to let his brother and sister know about him; to give them all the love and care that I have in me. I hope that God sees how much I appreciate my many blessings he has bestowed upon me. I just hope that Qualyn is proud of me and knows that I will always love and miss him dearly.

~

This week I was thinking about how much I love teaching college. My students are great (for the most part!), and they really teach me so much. In one of my classes, my students write narrative essays. Last week I received a handful of essays and the majority of them brought tears to my eyes. I had a woman who had been raped; an older woman who spent her childhood moving from place to place, not knowing where she was going to live next; a woman who had lost her first child; and a guy who had fought in Desert Storm. All of these stories touched me, many of them breaking my heart.

~

Often we don’t realize what people have been through in their lives. We come and go, and sometimes we are too busy to care. All of us, though, have stories to tell. Things that have happened to us and have shaped us. We should take more time to listen.

~

I’d like to start posting some of those stories. They’re too important not to share. So hopefully, that will be something I can blog more often.

~

This blog is for my students. Thank you for the inspiration you are to me. Not only have you been through highs and lows in your lives, but now you’re taking a challenging journey to reach your goals of a college degree, and you have dreams before you that you hope to accomplish.

~

Keep pressing on. The journey is worth it.

Sandi

I feel my blogging (and lack thereof) is like my journal writing. About once every six months I pick up my journal and know I need to write in it more . But that doesn’t happen. I’ve come to terms that I’m an occasional blogger for now. Maybe someday I’ll get better at it.

~

I was (pleasantly) surprised to see that I semi-finaled in the #YALitChat and Sourcebooks contest (http://georgiamcbridebooks.wordpress.com/ — See the March 3^rd post). I won’t find out until the end of March if I finaled, but it was nice to get that far.

~

Soooooo that leads me to plug the YALitChat ning. It’s an awesome community, full of a wealth of information for YA writers. If you’re writing YA, I would highly recommend you join it. Here’s the link: http://yalitchat.ning.com/

~

Happy week!
Sandi

A Couple of Recommendations
~

I also finished “Lipstick Apology,” which I loved, mainly because it reminded me of the type of writing I do—contemporary romance, but with a unique hook. Nice reason to love it, huh? But really, I would suggest this debut author as well.
~

Thoughts on Form Letters
~
Last week I received a request for my full manuscript from an agent. The difference from all the others I’ve ever received, however, was that it was very personal. The agent took the time to be very specific in what she liked about my book. In the past, not only have I gotten form rejections, but I’ve gotten form “request for more” emails. Even if this agent doesn’t end up taking me on, her email made my day (and my week, and month, maybe year!).
~
Since I teach hundreds of online students at any given time, I know the value of a form email. I understand from an agent’s perspective—who is getting hundreds of submissions a day—why a form response is necessary. And I would definitely rather receive a form response than no response at all.
~
But I do notice a huge difference from my students when I use a personal response. They are grateful, and it seems to make a difference in their attitude. It’s during those times that I realize how valuable a personal response can be.
~
Of course I get that this isn’t always realistic. For those of us whose jobs include dealing with mass quantities of individuals, giving personal responses to everyone would be a joke—we’d never get anything done.
~
But I do think that once in a while we should consider that we are not robots nor are the individuals on the other side of the computer robots, and personal responses can make a world of difference in their lives. While it’s not always possible, we should strive to make it happen when our gut tells us we should.

Just some thoughts for you today
~
Have a great week!

Amazon Breakthrough Novel now has a YA category: http://www.amazon.com/Breakthrough-Novel-Award-Books/b?ie=UTF8&node=332264011

KidLit blog (sorry, this one ends today, but she often has contests going on): http://kidlit.com/kidlit-contest/

Sourcebooks contest: http://teenfire.ning.com/

And, associated with that is a really cool YA ning community where they talk all YA happenings and they’ll help you with your ms’s: http://yalitchat.ning.com/