Funeral and marker

These pictures are actually a lot harder to look at then I thought they would be. We looked at them once right after he died and this is the second time. 

I just want to add to all of my other blog posts about Conor that I know there is a God. 

He is a sweet, loyal, promise keeping God. I know he is there. I swear by it. I know he sends angels to comfort us. And he has sent angels to comfort me personally. I know Conor is with him and there is a beautiful well thought out plan for him. And for me. I know that the principles of this church are true and right and they will keep you safe, protected and comforted. I know nothing is a coincidence. Everything happens for a reason. I know the prophet and apostles are men of God and what they say is what God wants us to hear. It's what he needs us to hear. I know I will be with my baby boy again. I know he waiting for us and praying that we will be good enough people to be with him forever. 

Owen stood and watched all of the kids lay down the flowers, as if he was watching over his little brother. It was amazing.

Chris and his parents.

And this was just put in yesterday. Owen brought him and pumpkin and a scarecrow.

Conor

"All your losses will be made up to you in the resurrection, provided you continue faithful".
Prophet Joseph Smith

The last few weeks have been some of the most difficult weeks of my life. You know in the movies when something bad happens, someone says "It felt like a bad dream?", that's really how it feels. Like not real, just a dream/nightmare.

Just when I think I can't do it, I can and I do.

 I believe in Christ.

I actually started this post about two weeks after we lost Conor- My thoughts on the whole experience have rapidly changed in just six shorts weeks. So some of this is from then and some is from now, but I really feel it's important for me to share both. 

Leaving the hospital without Conor in my arms was probably the most devastating hour of my life. It felt wrong. We just went home and cried. Every small detail of the event hurt. Food lost it's taste, hobbies didn't seem to make me happy and just about everything made me cry. I sobbed as I put my maternity clothes away, folded up the baby blankets and crossed the gender reveal appointment off of my calender. Every time I looked in the mirror I cried. I wanted my baby belly, I want to be uncomfortable, I want to feel his kicks and moves, I want to have to pee all night long, I want the exhausting labor and delivery of a full term baby and hearing the first cry of an infant, I want the sleepless nights feeding that sweet babe, I want my Conor. I want to raise him now, not in the next life, now.

Being a Mormon doesn't make you perfect but sometimes we are held to this crazy high standard that because we know so much, we shouldn't struggle, be bitter, or even be mad at God.. We know we will see him again, therefore we should just move on with life right? I always thought that if something like this ever happened to me, believing that it never would, I would be fine- I would do the Mormon thing (not that anyone really does) and be fine. I could move on with life and understand that my baby is in a better place. I hate to break it to you, but I'm not perfect. I don't understand it. I don't like it.

 Only a few close friends have said, "It's okay to cry and be mad", which is sooo much more reassuring than someone telling me I'll see him again or that I can have another. (Both have been said) Which just gave me a good idea for a next blog post- "What not to say to someone who just lost their infant".

 I was talking to a good friend  a week ago and I told her how mad I was. I said, "I'm not mad at God, I'm not mad at the doctors or Chris, I'm just mad and I don't know who to be mad at, so I'm just mad. No one did anything wrong. I hate what happened and it's not fair. Not only did it take us eight months to get pregnant with Conor but he died". She said "Sarah I think God would understand if you wanted to mad at him for a while, He is hurting just as much as you are".

 I felt relieved. I have never heard anything like that before. I have never thought of it like that, He is hurting just as much as I am.

"Lucifer whispers that life's not fair and that if the gospel were true, we would never have problems or disappointments.. The gospel isn't a guarantee against tribulation. That would be like a test with no questions. Rather, the gospel is a guide for maneuvering through the challenges if life with a sense of purpose and direction".  Sheri Dew

Everyone has been saying, "Aren't you grateful for the knowledge we have of the gospel and the Plan of Salvation?" or "You'll get to raise him someday". Let me be honest, that doesn't help right now. I mean it does, it really does, but don't tell me that. How do you know that? I know I will see him again but when? In 100 years from now? That doesn't help. I want him now, I want to raise him in this world. Yes, I'm being selfish. We want our Conor. We want Owen's brother. We want our son. I hate going to the cemetery and seeing a gravestone that shouldn't be there. He should be with us. I have never before felt such a deep longing for a child, my child until now.

 This pain, desperation and heartache is exhausting and excruciating.

  I can't help but think of all the things I will miss with him, the first smile, laugh, trying to feed him baby food, watching him crawl, walk, staring at him sleeping at night, praying that he will be safe, squishing his cheeks, first day of school, dating, a mission, college, marriage.  Everything.

One of the very few pictures I have of being pregnant with Conor.

But then I think of all the things he won't have to go through in this life, like teething, diaper rashes, sleep training, falling, hurting, nightmares, heartaches with friends, temptation from peers, feeling alone or sad. That is a blessing for me. I won't have to watch him suffer or cry, be scared or afraid.

The next day Chris and I went to pick out a casket. It was the second most unbearable hour I have ever experienced. I had to pick a box to lay my sweet baby in... How do you choose? I know he really isn't there, but to pick a box that he will stay in forever is so deeply painful. We had no idea what we were doing; trying to cope and understand what just happened and on top of that, we were asked so many questions. We had to make so many decisions. We talked about what was going to happen to him, what we wanted him buried with, and when the memorial service would be, and what it would be life. It was unreal.

We decided on Friday August 1st, no special reason, I guess we wanted it over as soon as possible. Next we went to the florist. I was fine until they asked what I needed. Through sobs I asked for an arrangement for my infants casket. We looked through magazine after magazine and I didn't want any of them. Not a single one. It wasn't right to have to pick one. I was mad that I had to choose one. The whole day, we both were in denial. I kept feeling like I was doing this for someone else's baby, not mine. I just cried as I looked through all of the arrangements. We finally picked one and saw the price.. As if losing my child wasn't tragic enough, the cost of burring him was just as tragic. The florist said that they would just donate it all. I cried even harder and she cried with me. It was such a blessing. After spending $600 on the casket and $500 at the cemetery, we felt like we couldn't afford to have a service.Tender mercy number one.

Then someone in Chris' family called and said they had written a check for $1000 to help with the funeral costs. We could not have done it without help. I still cry when I think of loving and generous that was. We needed the help more than they knew and we will be forever grateful for it. And I almost think it means more to us because there is not an attachment. It was just a very generous gift and that is the most helpful, most loving thing anyone has done for us. That sweet memorial for Conor wouldn't have happened without that help. Tender mercy number two.

Friday morning we woke up and got ready for the service. As I was getting ready, I listened to as many talks on child loss as I could. What else was I suppose to do? Hoping and praying something would be inspiring. I was watching an interview with Elder and Sister Wickman about losing their then five year old son. They said it was the hardest thing they have ever been through and all of the sudden I felt justified for sobbing all morning. If an apostle said it's the hardest thing he's ever been through than that means it can be the hardest thing I've ever been through. He said something that really stuck with me and I believe it always will. He said,

"We had many kind sentiments expressed by our friends and people are so kind but people don't know quite what to say, they do the best they can. One that stands out that I've always remembered is a friend who wrote to us, she said-

"Sometimes in the midst of our blessings and affluence (wealth), we forget that this is suppose to be the lone and dreary world".

And for some reason that resonated with me, just a reminder that that's what this world really is. But the Lord is there to bless us and He will. You'll get through it and there truly is joy in the morning".

Hearing that was exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it. The whole week I kept thinking "Chris served a faithful mission, we were married in the temple, we even went to church schools, we had a baby on "Mormon standard time", we pay our tithing, hold our callings, we have been humbly living in my parents basement to try and pay off debt and save money, everything! By the books, we have done everything right, why is this happening?!" Now obviously none of that makes sense but after losing a child, you tend to say things that don't make sense.

 So hearing that meant the world to me, I stopped asking why and instead asked

"What are we suppose to learn from this? What is it making us grow for?" 

The drive to the cemetery was quiet and solemn. Chris just held my hand and we both cried. I didn't want to go. We kept saying how unreal it was to be driving to our sons burial. It was like a really bad dream. Unreal. 

All of our family was there when we showed up. The grave site was all set up and beautiful. As soon as I saw the casket, I lost it. It's like it hit me again, the fact that I couldn't wake up from this nightmare.

 The small cousins sang "I Am A Child Of God" and released balloons. Chris' dad dedicated the grave with the most sincere prayer I've ever heard. It was beautiful and I felt for the first time that Conor was okay. That we were going to be okay.  Like the prayer had made things alright. Like we were finally letting go and telling him we would be fine. I felt like we were giving him permission to leave. As if we had some sort of control. It was incredible.

This whole time, I have not been able to be in control. My body did what it wanted, I had no control over that. I had no choice. At the funeral, during the prayer, I felt, for the first time, like I had control. I kept thinking "Okay, you can go, we'll be fine", again, giving him permission to leave. In reality, now I see that it was just me deciding that I would be fine. I won't stop being Owens mom and Chris' wife. I will grieve but I will move on. I will let it go.

 I won't ever forget BUT I won't let this keep me from living a good, joy filled life.

 You know you always hear "I felt peace come over me like a blanket" in testimony meetings at church.. ya I never believed that. I always felt like people were making it up. But I swear on my life it is real. For the first time I experienced it. It happened. It felt literal. I just kept hearing and feeling that he is okay. Conor is in good hands.

The best hands.

That helped me to let go, just a little, of the anger and bitterness. I will never forget the peace I felt. I still don't like what happened but I know for a fact that he is doing something great. My infant, is a full grown, as tall as his daddy, faithful man serving a mission. I felt like he was telling me he is great. He is happy. He isn't an infant anymore. He is obedient and serving the Lord. What more could I ask for?

Chris and I have had a lot of time to sit down, look back and see the beautiful tender mercies and warnings of this trial. We have been able to see some of the cushions and the cautions, the blessings and tender mercies.
Some of these things may seem silly or even like a coincidence but after going through this experience, I don't see it that way. I know this isn't over, I know that I will learn so much more about this burden as life moves on. I know that Heavenly Father was preparing Chris and I for this. He truly cares that much- That, I would say is at the heart of my testimony is. He knows me. He knows what I need(ed).

Family picture with Conor

a. For a year we had been trying to find a job and for months we had been trying for another baby. Within two weeks of each other, we had gotten both. But his boss gave him a really late start date of August 4th, which we thought was so far away.  Conor died July 28th and we buried him August 1st. Chris was able to be around the whole time because he didn't start his job until almost two months after he had gotten it.

 b.Within the first week of finding out we were pregnant, I had two very clear dreams that this baby wasn't going to make it. Two. In both, the baby died mid pregnancy. At first, I called that just my "worried mom paranoia" feeling. Now, I call that a warning or caution. I didn't think anything of it at first and pretended like it didn't mean anything because well, you hope until there is no hope left.

c. One week before Conor died, Chris and I were watching Leverage (our new favorite show on Netflix) and a scene went back to the main character's son dying of cancer in a hospital. They showed the son flat lining and the father screaming and begging for him to stay with him. It was a very emotional scene and I looked at Chris with tears in my eyes and for the first time, saw tears in his. We paused the show and cried a little. I asked him what we would do if our son died, a question that had never crossed my mind before. We sat and talked about what we would do. A week later, Conor died. And it's exactly what we have been doing.

d. Going into the labor and delivery room with Conor, my nurse came in and it just so happened to be the same exact one that delivered Owen. I love her. She helped make me feel as comfortable as I could. It was like having a really good friend there. Then when they took me to do the D&C, the same anesthesiologist that gave me the epidural with Owen walked in. I loved him too. It was a pretty unbelievable coincidence.

After we told Chris' family what happened, they all came up. His sister and family, whom I just love, And his parents. It was amazing. We had all the support we needed. A loving ward, family and really great friends who offered and gave their love. Although the basement looked like a florist shop, we appreciated how good people are.

Our Bishop came over the day after we got home and wanted to talk. He and his wife had also lost a son a while ago so he had some very encouraging words. He said "it just sucks". And I am not kidding you, that is one of the best things anyone ever said to us. So just in case you know someone who goes through something similar, it's okay to say it."I'm sorry and it sucks". There is nothing you can say to make it better, nothing will change what happened. So saying that is sucks is okay. Because it does.

(Also- things you might not want to ever say to a woman who just lost her baby may include:)

"You're young, you can always have more", or something to that affect.
As if I can replace him? Like I just lost my puppy and can get a new one?

"Well, he was only 20 weeks, it's not like he was full term".
I have no comment.

When talking about having another "Let's hope it works this time" (This was actually said by a four year old, so she is totally off the hook).

I'm actually going to stop here, the list goes on, and it get's even better, but I'm started to get offended all over again- so I may save this for another day.

We are doing well. We miss him and want him badly. I get just a little irritated when I find out someone is pregnant but that's life. Or when I see the sweet chubby faces of newborns but that's life too. I have my moments, hours, days. I hate what happened and I have no clue why but I know there is a reason and I am okay with that. I am okay knowing there is a reason. He is my son and always will be. Just not here, not now.

And just in case you are curious- the why on why it happened..

Chris and I went to a high risk doctor to talk about why it happened. Obviously there is not a 100% answer but we have a close one. She said it's most likely an incompetent cervix and very few women have it. Basically, his small eight ounces plus the water, the placenta, all the other junk, at 20 weeks was just heavy enough to "fall" through, causing my body to think it was in labor, therefore go into labor. She said because this hasn't happened before she thinks it was Owen that kinda "broke" my cervix. Stretched it out. And that means from now on, this is going to be a problem with every pregnancy, BUT it is treatable.

I will need to let my OB know as soon as I get pregnant and do weekly checkups to see if my cervix is dilating at all. We will wait the 12 weeks to see if we miscarry and if not, at 13 weeks, do a cerclage (stitch my cervix closed). I am "recommended" to take it easy the rest of my pregnancy. And yes, my OB has met Owen so he knows that's not going to be possible. Possible bed rest and no heavy lifting. (But let's get real, we all pull the pregnancy card when we are asked to lift heavy things anyway). It seems pretty positive for now. But I'm a huge skeptic, as of this last experience. So who knows. I feel like I'm leaving a huge cliffhanger but.. I don't really have anything else to say. The end I guess. Thanks for the support!

Conor 2

I have a really beautiful post about all of the blessings and tender mercies given through this hell like trial that I have been wanting to post. But I just can't. That's not how I feel this week.

I was told many times that the grieving process isn't a straight line. It doesn't flow easily from one stage to the next. I was told that some days I would be okay and others I would want to die. I would want to curl up in a ball and cry. I kind of figured that but I have never had to deal with this kind of grief before. They were right.

At times I feel truly okay with what happened. I don't agree with it or like it and Heaven knows I never will but I feel like I can understand. I know he is in a better place.

And then there are weeks like this. I hate it. Who cares that he is "in a better place?" I don't. I want him here. NOW. I hate that everyone around me is pregnant or just had beautiful babies. I should be further along than most of my friends. It isn't fair. I know I sound like a toddler throwing a tantrum, I know. There are beautiful baby boys everywhere and I want them, I want Conor. There are babies everywhere but where they should be, in my arms.

  Everywhere I turn there are glowing pregnant moms or smiling babies.  I'm so jealous, so envious. I wish I could complain with you about your morning sickness or how tired you are. I was there. And now, I'm not.

The rug was pulled out from under us, fast.

You never think it will happen to you.
Until it does.

I don't want to sound horrible and depressed but I am. This is real. This pain and hurt of losing a infant is an unbearable and exhausting roller coaster. Some days are good. Some days I think we are adjusting. Some days I think we can make it. Some days I think. "It really is okay".

Some days are devastating. Some days I blame myself. Some days I wish I wouldn't have listened to that on call nurse who told me to stay home.

The day we got home, Chris and I went to Deseret Book and grabbed as many books on child loss as we could. I read them all within the next couple of days and they were helpful. In one of them it said "Pregnancy is not a disease, but an all consuming condition". I loved that. The author went on to say that losing a child is the hardest because from the very beginning we plan and prepare. While pregnant everything is about being pregnant. All the way from what we eat to how we dress, what we are doing for vacation and holidays to things we need for the baby. So to go from planning and preparing vigorously to nothing- a dead end, is impossible.

What are we doing for Christmas now? We don't know. We don't want to make plans. Our plans were to have a new baby at home. How do I answer when people ask how many children I have? I have two. I know that. How do we explain to Owen that he has a brother, just not here? I guess it's time to put the maternity clothes and baby onsies away, along with all of our dreams of a new future.

Thinking back to that night, I honestly thought he would be fine. He would be in the NICU for a while, maybe a few months, but ultimately he would be okay. If I look back, I see the ignorant and oblivious girl who didn't have any idea what was coming. She didn't know her world would come crashing down in a matter of minutes. She didn't know she was going to be hit by a train, then a bus, and a shovel. I want to cry for her. This story is awful and devastating and I remember it's mine.

I have to deal with this everyday. I wake up without a pregnant belly, without a due date.

I'm sure tomorrow will be different, but today it hurts. So bad. So so bad.

A little update

I think the last thing I posted anywhere was about Conor. The few weeks after him were miserable. (I have a post on that coming). But we are now on six weeks and we are doing well.

First thing, we moved out!!!!!!! I am so grateful my parents let us stay that long but holy crap it was time. We got a two bedroom apartment in Orem (right by Target:)) that we just love. It has it's own washer and dryer, a big bathroom, a pretty kitchen and a playground right in front of our place. I have been looking for over a year now but seriously looking for a good six months. There was nothing. Nothing that we could afford anyway. About a week after Conor died, I found this one and it was the biggest blessing. The price was lower than what we were looking at and a lot bigger. It was almost unbelievable but I called and she said she would hold it for me until we looked at it. As soon as we pulled up, I knew it was the one. We are soo happy and soo close to Target!

These are the-chris-is-mad-because-we-are-leaving-town-and-I-HAVE-to-take-pictures-right-now- series. So they are really sloppy but I don't care.

Vinyl navy and white striped wall with an unfinished gallery wall.

This is a caricature picture that was done of us on my senior night after graduation. Funny that my date to my senior night ended up being my husband.

Owen's room. Still working on it.

And the bathroom-

And I'm not showing my bedroom because well, it's just a mattress right now.

Chris is still with Utah County as their Deputy Fire Marshall. He likes it. And that's all we're saying about that. ha He is still testing anywhere and everywhere to hopefully get on a fire department, so who know's where we'll end up.

Owen just turned two and he loves to tell stories. They are hilarious.
I am doing okay. I miss my babe and I want one so badly but I know everything is as it should be. So until I get my post all finished, this is it for now. :)

Conor Hendrickson July 28, 2014

Our sweet baby boy Conor Hendrickson passed away at 19 weeks on July 28, 2014 due to an incompetent cervix, meaning Heavenly Father needed him home.

I started having some pretty awful contractions after breakfast but I thought I could handle them so I ignored them. Throughout the day it was progressively getting worse, it started going into my back and there was lots of extra vaginal discharge. So much so, I started to research all about the mucus plug which I assumed was the problem. I called the on call nurse and she didn't seem too worried so I took a hot bath and tried to lay down. Chris got home from his class around eight and I couldn't take the pain anymore. I got up to go pee and before I could even pee, a softball sized sack of fluid came out, just hanging there. I screamed for Chris and he ran to get my parents. I sat there on the toilet shaking and sobbing. I knew this wasn't good and I knew this baby could not survive outside of the womb at only 19 weeks. I can't even explain in words the sheer terror I was experiencing. I hated it. It's like it wasn't me.. I don't know how to describe it.

My dad came down and I saw the look in his eyes. It was devastating. Without saying anything, we all knew this baby wasn't going to live. As my mom tried to get me to breathe, my dad and Chris took me upstairs.We got in the car and went to the hospital. The ER ran me straight upstairs to Labor and Delivery.

My contractions were still really strong and I felt like my body wanted to push. I kept trying to hold it in, trying to protect him.. I had no idea what was happening so I grabbed the nurse by the arm and told her to tell me honestly. She said "You're baby won't survive this". I have never felt such panic in my life. I kept saying "okay" as I just sobbed into Chris' chest. There was nothing I did wrong and there was nothing anyone could do to save him. By the time my doctor got there I had delivered his body. By that time, he had passed. It was too much stress on his little body and he just couldn't handle it.

He had me push and the rest of him came through, along with so much blood. I started to feel dizzy and light headed. He weighed in at 8 oz, was 9 in long and a boy! I was shocked. I had convinced myself it was a girl just because the pregnancy was polar opposite of Owens. I had a girls name picked out so when he came out a boy, I had no idea what to think. I looked at Chris and we both were clueless as to a name. All of the sudden after holding his tiny body in my hand, I felt the name Conor come to me. It had been on a baby names list when Owen was being thought of but at the very bottom and I hadn't thought of it since. I told Chris and he said it was perfect. Tiny but perfect. Doctor Anderson said everything was perfect. His fingers and toes, his little arms, and his nose that looked exactly like Owens. He was perfect and all he kept telling me was that he had no idea why this happened. I may not know why but I know that there is a reason behind it. But hearing that from a medical standpoint, there is no explanation, it's unfair.

 I was so sick and dizzy. I felt the room spinning. They kept telling me it was all of the blood I was losing. But I couldn't help but feel like it was just the whole situation. He waited for about a half hour to see if the placenta would deliver and it wasn't. Doctor Anderson sounded worried when it wasn't coming so he scheduled the operating room for a D&C. They left baby with Chris and took me into the OR. I remember at that point feeling so worthless. I just laid on the operating table with tears coming so fast, while all of the nurses and doctors were telling me how sorry they were. I couldn't even nod my head. I didn't want to hear it, I wanted my little boy. I wanted Chris to be a dad again. I wanted Owen to have his little brother. I wanted him. Then I went under.

I remember being back in my room and not fully awake but needing to throw up. So I did, all over my bed. As if the puddles of blood, the shots and blood drawn every hour wasn't enough. We tried to sleep through the rest of the morning but it was impossible. This morning we got a lot of time to hold him but I just bawled every time. It was so unreal. Holding a dead child has to be the worst feeling in the world. I was breathless at some points. I felt like I couldn't do it. I didn't want to do it. I'm Sarah, I don't have angel babies (I miscarried a five weeks before Owen), other people do. I love this gospel and I know that is how I am surviving this but it doesn't mean this hurts any less just because I know I will see him again. This sucks. It's awful. While Chris was holding him, I looked up the meaning of the name Conor. Turns out it's Irish like Owens and it means strong willed or high desire, which means a strong intention or aim to start a new life. 

I couldn't even get through the sentence without feeling completely okay. This was meant to be. He is too great for this life. I am at peace with it. I am still broken and I have cried all day but I know he is okay. I know that my grandparents are up there running around with him. I know he is happy and he is beautiful. He is serving a far greater mission than he could have here. We are okay. As okay as you can be in this kind of situation. Owen doesn't get what happened but he understands that I'm not okay and he has been the sweetest guy giving me hugs and wanting me around. Chris and I are still in a little bit of denial but I'm sure that will phase out soon. I wanted to write this so everyone knows what happened. Thank you in advance for the love and support.

Catching Up- Spring Break, This Is The Place & Kamas

Wow have I been slacking.. Turns out a two year old is harder to keep busy/take care of than I thought. I've only lost him a couple times.. this week. He made it down our street in a diaper.. by himself. When I found him, the neighbor was holding him looking around for me. I ran down the street to him and said "Mom of the Year award right?" and hurried away in shame.

This is going to be one long post (mostly for my personal record keeping) just fyi

Time to catch up- In April my family took us to Las Vegas for Spring Break. My grandpa got us the nicest suite at the Wyndam right downtown. Our rooms overlooked the airport so it was perfect for Owen. It's kinda weird to visit (like tourists) somewhere you've lived before.

We went to Hoover Dam. My mom, Owen and I sat up at the top where we parked and the rest of the crew walked all the way down. (I just had a knee surgery a few weeks before).

If you look closely you can see us sitting on the ledge above the bus.

 We went to the Pawn Stars shop and didn't see anyone cool. TV is so deceiving.

 I took two pictures because in this one my dad doesn't look like he wants to kill someone.

 
We walked around the good hotels and saw creepy statue people.

Owen hated it. Can you blame him?

We did so many other things that I didn't even think to take pictures of.. so this will have to do. It was a great trip. We also found out at our doctors appointment that the conception of this babe puts it right around then so my original plan was to announce it by saying "What happens in Vegas doesn't always stay in Vegas". But my siblings got creeped out by that. We all had separate rooms..

A couple weeks ago we decided to go to Salt Lake for the day. I wasn't feeling very well but somehow Ikea made that better. :) We then went to the This Is The Place Monument and stayed all day. I've gotta hand it to Utah- they know how to entertain families. Everything here is so family oriented. Even the malls here have nursing rooms. What? 

We rode a train and Owen loved it so much he was holding still- he doesn't even hold still when he's sleeping.

 
It was baby animal week and they don't care if you pick them up and touch them. Owen held some baby chicks and ducklings.

We got some taffy from the ZCMI candy shop- that's what Owen's chewing in the picture below.

It was such a good day. There was so much do and for so cheap, total for the train rides, splash pad, animals, playgrounds, shops, it was about $20. I would recommend this! 

Chris' family grew up going to Kamas to an old cabin and he has great memories of this so we decided to go find it. And stop and eat at the famous burgers and shakes HI Mountain Drug store.

I'm just realizing most of these pictures are just Chris and Owen- I did not try to do this on purpose. I'm actually a little sad that I'm not in these.. Dang.

At the fish hatchery.

75,000 fish in this run. Can you believe that?

There I am! And the nice baby bump (at 12 weeks). A sweet biker lady asked if she could get a picture of all of us- at Provo Falls.

  Touching the water.

The cabin- either I am an amazing photographer or my camera is awesome.

 Trying to catch a snake.

It's been a good summer so far. Now we have to send Jeff off to Paraguay. I think before Owen I could just say "See ya in two". But now, I've found myself sobbing when I think about the day Owen leaves. Ahh this mom stuff is hard.