I was asked to speak at my ward Relief Society on Thursday night. Actually Robert was supposed to speak with me but he REALLY didn't want to so he went and had his appendix out. He could have just said no. But it actually turned out better for me to go it alone. Most people in my ward know much of my history so I was able to talk about other aspects, mostly Robert. He hates being singled out and having me say things about him with him right there would have made him really uncomfortable. After, though, I realized that I had never written these stories down. Luckily, he never reads this blog so he will never know, unless someone tells him...
I don't remember this first thing at all, but my mom told me that it is one of the most tender moments she had ever seen. Very early after my stroke, while still in ICU, I woke up once and looked at my mom. Remember that most of my family only knew the sign language alphabet, so I spelled, "Tell Robert to leave me." Robert only caught some of what I had spelled so he had to have my mom tell him. Upon hearing what I had signed, he came to my bed, held my face so I had to look at him, and said, "You are my eternal companion and I will never leave you." My mom said she just stood there and cried.
We had our 9th Wedding Anniversary while I was in the hospital. Obviously we could not do much to celebrate but we both realized how precious it was to get to this day. So, Robert brought me flowers and a movie and we snuggled on my little bed. That was difficult due to my many tubes but we figured it out. It may not have been lavish but all we wanted that night (and every night) was to be together.
I have often felt guilty for all the changes, sacrifices, and things I have made impossible for our family to do together. But Robert is always incredulous when I apologize. He seems to honestly feel that we are all in this together and often remind me of some of the ways he and our kids have been blessed by all this. And he always points out that our family is doing very well and the most important thing is that our kids have their mommy with them.
Before my stroke, I had my voice on the voicemail. The stroke permanently changed my voice. For months Robert would call our home just to hear my voice.
Along those lines, my PT called my house once and left a message. When I returned his call, he asked if that was my voice. He could not believe the difference and even asked if I sang before.
This morning when we woke up, I asked Robert how he had slept. He replied that he had not slept well and that it's all my fault. Now, you might assume it is my snoring, sleep talking, or even stealing the covers but you would be wrong (for last night at least). When I was in the hospital, he would often get calls from the nurses requesting permission for something or letting him know of some crisis that had happened. He was almost afraid to go to sleep. Even when I lived with my mom he would get calls at strange hours from both my mom and me. He has never quite recovered from that and wakes often in the night. I am only slightly saddened by this because sometimes when he wakes up he snuggles up close. If I am awake enough to notice, it sure makes me happy.
There are so many stories about Robert and I could go on and on but for now, the pumpkin cookies need baking!
Oh, some more mommy proud stuff--
Jain's prayer from last night:
Heavenly Father, we love your son. His name is Jesus. I love Disneyland more than ice cream. I love You and Jesus more than Disneyland and ice cream.
Yesterday Robert asked Tommy if he had remembered to bring his jacket home from school. Tommy said that he mostly did. Robert understandably had no idea what this meant and asked Tommy to clarify. An exasperated boy looked up from his video game and said, "Dada, theres a high percentage that I did and a small percentage that I didn't." Percentage? What?
He and Robert were talking the other day and he said something that made Robert laugh. Tommy said, "Dada, I never know whats going to set you off."
I hope he never stops calling Robert Dada.