I Just Want You to Know Part 7

You sailed through your time in the neonatal unit-without an issue or a problem as you spent your days next to the large window with a view identical to mine from the ten weeks prior. Had you been aware enough, you could have watched the deer family I observed regularly through the window on that side of the hospital. Their antics occupied my many spare hours while you steadily grew in my belly.

You were exquisite (as Great Grandma always said) and perfect in every way from day one. You had a lot of dark brown hair on your head-and on your arms and back! Your cheeks were rosy and you were so very precious.

The story of your name is an interesting one. I had always wanted a "Morgan" since I had babysat for many years and loved a little girl by this name. Daddy and I both loved the name and thought that was settled. But as time pa.s.sed, I realized I didn't want to confuse things by giving genderneutral names, so I began to rethink it. I remembered a little Korean girl in Great Grandma's church by the name of Leah, and she was beyond precious. She was always happy and giggling, which caused me to not only love her but also her name! So Leah you were.

In keeping with Alexis's and Hannah's middle names, we decided to call you Leah Hope. Our prayers gave us much hope that all six of you would be born alive and healthy. As you know now, Leah, that prayer has been answered completely!

I count your health and the health of your brothers and sisters as my biggest blessing-especially on rough days, when the bickering is overwhelming and being a single mommy of eight kids begins to feel like too much. I try to always see the positive in everything, which allows me to step back and be grateful that you are "able" to bicker and fight-even when you come zooming into the kitchen to tattle for the nine hundredth time in an hour, Leah!

Although cute, you were a difficult baby-not in temperament but in feeding. You had reflux, which caused you to vomit nearly every drop of every feeding. It became a challenge to avoid jostling you so that you wouldn't "lose your lunch," literally. Nanny Joan, as you know, lovingly fed you daily and sat among the many drop cloths that covered the sofa, often wearing the contents of your bottle no matter how careful she was. She happily made it her self-a.s.signed task to see to it that you kept your food where it belonged. She loves you so much, Leah! I appreciated Nanny Joan's help much more than I remembered to tell her. But I know that some of your first smiles flashed in her direction were surely thanks enough for her.

It became apparent to me that Nanny Joan knew almost better than I how to feed you, and it made me sad. It was difficult for Mommy to miss out on so many feedings and snuggles with each of you, but I had to allow others to help and fill in the gaps where I wasn't enough. I remember wanting to pluck all six of you from the arms of your feeders and run. Just because I had six babies didn't mean that I didn't love each of you as if you were my one and only. In fact, I struggled constantly with the guilt I felt because I had to divide myself-and still do-in so many ways.

Over time, as I've learned to be a more positive thinker, I've come to realize that the love and the support of close family and friends was important and good for you-and a close second to my mommy love.

As you grew that first year, you easily overcame the reflux and developed completely normally. Whew! I've often wondered if your rough start caused you to drop from my biggest girl to my tiny princess, as I call you.

You were my first and most enunciated talker. I also give Nanny Joan the credit for that, as she told you volumes day after day as you both sat still as statues in that drape covered throne...I mean, chair. You were so little, but crystal clear when voicing your requests, concerns, complaints, and desires-and everyone else's issues for that matter. Many times I have just cracked up at your mature and unexpected responses! Just today I asked you a question, and your answer was a very poised, "Why yes, I do!" As usual, I had to chuckle at the uniqueness of you!

As you have grown, I have enjoyed your contribution to our family. You add an excitement that only you can add. You are pleasant and kind and helpful. I admire the fact that you interact and love each of your brothers and sisters equally.

Please always remember what I tell you often at the dinner table: "Look around you. These are your best friends. They will be by your side helping you long after I am gone. Other friends will come and go, but these are your true friends." These are important words to remember. Please always strive to remain close to your family. It may be difficult at times, but don't ever allow anything to entice you to become disloyal to those who are closest to you. The perceived benefit of friends will never outweigh the bond you have with family. Strong bonds with trustworthy allies will help you survive in a world where loyalty is cashed in regularly to get ahead in life. Always remain dedicated to those who have proven their loyalty. I promise you, it will be worth the struggle.

Recently our family life has changed. I know that you have wrestled with these changes. It is evident to me that you are sad; and when you are sad, I am sad. I just want you to know that I am here for you and that my love for you will never change. I will be your "same mommy" for all of time. Nothing and no one will ever take your place in my heart.

You recently told me, "I've waited my entire life" for something on your Christmas list; just the same, I've waited my entire life to be your mommy. I want to walk beside you, holding your hand as you grow and learn to navigate the sometimes scary, sometimes happy, and sometimes difficult times ahead of you. I dream for you a successful career, a happy marriage, and a fulfilling family life. Come to me when you need a hug, a hand, or just your mommy with a heart that swells with love for you-today, tomorrow, and forever. I'm here for you!

Love forever and always, no matter what, Mommy

12.

PLAYING SAFE.

After the show started airing, our privacy disappeared. People would run up on our porch and take pictures through our windows, park in front of our house to watch our kids ride their bikes, park on the side of our house to watch them play in the backyard. We couldn't do anything to stop it. We were on display like fish in an aquarium. Our house was also close to the road without fencing, so the front and back of the house were exposed. We constantly had people stopping by to try to see our kids. We couldn't even let them play outside on the weekends, as people would take photos and post them on the Internet.

Our lives got more complicated with public appearances and other media that came along with it; but we realized we could never go back to our pre-public days, and we still needed to provide for our family.

We already couldn't develop our photos because of the security risks of the photos being taken and posted online or worse, sold. To this day, thousands of family pictures are filed away on the computer, waiting to be printed. People-and this is just fans of the show at this point-would come up to the bay window at the front of our house and take photos. We had to keep the blinds drawn at all times to try to regain pieces of our privacy.

In the fall of 2007, one specific eye-opening event occurred. Our family had an appearance on a local cable show. While we were waiting to go onstage, a man was in the waiting area who claimed he was somebody's driver. He put our kids on his lap and took pictures of them, and n.o.body could do anything to get rid of him. I kept mentioning my discomfort as politely as possible, but whenever he was asked to leave, he kept reappearing. I felt powerless and completely creeped out; so from then on, we traveled with security at my insistence and had the total support of the network. There was no going back.

Besides, it was essential for safety. With eight small kids in airports and just two of us, what were Jon and I going to do if someone s.n.a.t.c.hed one from us? We had seven others to keep an eye on. Security a.s.sistance meant we could just focus on our kids and let someone else watch people's intentions.

It always thrills me when my kids have the privilege of flying.

Overzealous attention was bad enough, but when those actions turned into vandalism, it became ugly. Our mailbox was destroyed several times, our house was egged, among other things. We were already confined inside with the blinds drawn the majority of the time, and I felt horrible because this was no life for any kid. They need to be free to run outside and play. So I constantly felt torn between keeping them safe and allowing them a normal childhood. They just wanted to ride their bikes on the driveway. Seriously, was that too much to ask?

They just wanted to ride their bikes on the driveway.

At the request of the network, a security review was completed on our house and it highlighted areas where security needed to be improved. Unfortunately, neighborhood building codes prevented us from making the necessary adjustments, so we needed to look into a more secure home location.

It took awhile for us to find the right house. When we finally found it, we had a moving plan in place set for the end of November, right before the holidays. It couldn't come soon enough for us.

That summer when we were on a vacation in North Carolina, Jon and I said to each other, "Let's just not go home. Let's stay here." If only! We dreaded going home.

When we were home, I would wake up every single morning and the first thing I would think about was, "Where can we go? How can we get away from here? Where can we go where people aren't staring in our windows?" I felt there was never anywhere we could go to get away from the prying eyes. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, cars were parked along the street. People were watching us at every moment. I would look out my window and see somebody with a camera pointed into my bedroom window taking a picture. We were constantly reminded that we couldn't keep our own children safe. As a mom, I was horrified. I felt like I wasn't doing my job.

I started viewing everyone as our enemies. I'm sure most of them didn't mean any harm; they were just curious. Each person driving by probably thought he or she was the only one who drove by our house. What they didn't realize is that "just one person" five hundred times a day gets excessive day after day after day after day. We felt bad for our neighbors because we brought so much chaos to the neighborhood. Besides the fans (and vandals), tabloids started calling the neighbors, and reporters started knocking on their doors in addition to our own.

We needed to get out of there fast.

The last straw came unexpectedly one October morning. As I headed out to work on a new book with my editor, I jumped in our white minivan and as I started to back out, I realized it had two flat tires. Annoying, but I could just take the Big Blue Bus instead. When I saw that the bus had two flats as well, I noted that this was not an accident. After closer inspection, I saw large gashes in the tires and realized that someone with a knife had walked up our driveway and deliberately slashed them in the middle of the night.

I ran back in the house and yelled, "Jon, we need to move now!"

I had heard there was a lot of anger toward me on the Internet, but why would someone do this? I not only felt violated-and upset, since we now had to pay for four new tires-but I no longer felt we could keep our kids safe. The crime happened right underneath Mady and Cara's room. What was to stop this person, who was obviously armed with a weapon on my driveway, from taking it further? He could have just as easily smashed the windows, entered the house, hurt our children, and set the whole house on fire.

My mind was not lacking in coming up with horrible scenarios. Since people were coming up and knocking on our door, what was to stop them from acting out my worst nightmare-abducting one of my kids? One adult in charge of eight kids was not good odds to be able to stop somebody. We needed to move immediately.

As we put the plan in motion to move that fall weekend, I realized that our circ.u.mstances had drastically changed. We moved in as a happy little family-okay, maybe not so little, but certainly naive-and moved out older and wiser.

We moved in with a U-Haul truck, but moved out with a security company and unmarked trucks so no one would know our new address-or that we were moving at all!

We moved in not thinking twice about giving out our email, cell, address, and other personal contact info, but moved out only sharing our post office box address with the outside world.

We moved in grateful and excited if someone dropped off a package on our doorstep, but moved out having been instructed by our security team not to open any unexpected items.

You can imagine that we did start to question our chosen profession with the increasing security issues. But any parent with a dangerous job has to make the same choices. Think about cops, fire-fighters, and military personnel. I'm not comparing skills, only the risks involved in any chosen career. Every job has its ups and downs, and we still saw this job as having far more benefits than risks: We were able to work at home with our kids, paychecks were coming in to pay our bills, our kids were able to travel and have experiences they wouldn't have had otherwise.

What it really came down to, though, was that privacy infringement and security risks-which were the negatives of this job-would continue even if we stopped the show immediately, but without the positives.

So once again, we found ourselves in unusual territory. Our differences did not stop with having two sets of multiples. Everything about our lives felt weird and abnormal at that point. I still struggled to make life as normal as possible, but frankly, we never were normal-from the way we went about things to the places we went, the times of day, and the days of the week that we had to go anywhere.

Thankfully, the house we were moving into would let our kids have as much of a "normal" childhood as possible. They wouldn't be locked indoors with the blinds closed anymore. Thank G.o.d!

When we went as a family to see the new house for the first time, Leah gasped and said, "Thank you, Mommy!" as we pulled up to the driveway. Seeing a four-year-old that appreciative is so rewarding. Those kinds of reactions are why I can keep going. When we opened the door, all eight kids began screaming and took off running in various directions throughout the house.

They love that house so much. In our old house in Elizabethtown, day in and day out, no one could get away from each other-no rest, no quiet, no privacy. Kids were in every nook and cranny-with no personal s.p.a.ce except their own beds. Some of my first memories of the new house include seeing Aaden sitting on the couch, reading a book alone, without someone bothering him. I had never seen this happen in the old house. It was just too small. While it looked big on TV and served its purpose well, we really didn't have enough room for everyone, and the kids didn't have their own s.p.a.ce.

Even though people now know where our new house is, it provides s.p.a.ce and security. If our kids can't always go out in the real world safely, at least they can run around protected in their own house and yard. And I've now learned the ropes of what to do to keep them out of harm's way. Looking back, I see that I did not always handle situations well, and I probably seemed like a safety nut. (Okay, let's face it, I'm still a safety nut!) But no matter what the situation is, as mothers, our first priority is our kids' safety, health, and well-being.

I also have to remind myself that while I've taken every safety precaution possible, their safety is still not 100 percent guaranteed. I learned quickly when I was pregnant with the six that ultimately I have to trust G.o.d. I can't control the outcome, but I do pray constantly for G.o.d's protection. When they're on the school bus, I pray for them. When I'm out of town, I pray for them. When they're driving in the car with other people or in someone else's care, I pray for them.

And now that I can let go and trust G.o.d for my kids' safety, I can look back fondly on those past few years we lived at that house with the red door on Andrew Avenue. I learned quite a bit there, and those lessons are the foundation we're building our life on now.

I've learned how to better control my drama and how to handle things differently. I don't let every little thing bother me anymore. When we first moved into that house, if someone spilled a gla.s.s of milk, it would send me over the edge and ruin my day. Now I don't even blink. I hand the mess-maker a paper towel and move on.

Overall my perspective on what is really important has changed. And I'd like to think these changes are for the better and will continue to help me deal with whatever comes my way. I'd also like to think that these changes set a positive example for my kids when they see me navigating the unexpected twists and turns of life that come my way daily.

Letter to Joel Dear Joel, My sweet, quiet boy, you were born last but certainly not least!

At fourteen weeks, at my routine ultrasound appointment, I learned that you were a boy-making Daddy and I both very happy because you were the first, and quite possibly as far as we knew at that time, our only boy. It wasn't until weeks later that we learned we were having three boys-and three girls too! However, I remember that day well. I pondered all day and the rest of the week the fact that I was carrying my first baby boy as one of my six babies! It was such a novel idea after having your big sisters.

You spent your twenty-nine weeks and five days on the top right side of my belly. You were positioned on top of Collin. At the time, he didn't seem to mind and neither did you.. Directly across from you was Leah. You and Leah had the best real estate in my opinion. Early on, I discovered that I was most comfortable lying on my right side, so that meant that although you had s.p.a.ce originally, in reality you were pretty squooshed! Sorry, Joely!

It all turned out okay because you, my last baby ever, were born on May 10, 2004, at 7:53 in the morning. You were nothing but pure gorgeousness when I first laid eyes on you, just eight hours after your birth. In fact, I recall being very startled at the sight of you because I had never seen a baby that looked so very much like his daddy before.

In the days to come, your favorite NICU nurse, Heidi, would write messages on the tape that kept your feeding tube in place. This tape was attached to the area around your mouth, so it was as if you were actually saying, "I love you, Mommy and Daddy." That really melted my heart because I loved you so much! I love you that much, and more, today.

As I've watched you grow into yourself, I am glad that I "won" the battle of your name. I really had to plead with Daddy for a "Joel" and now I can't imagine calling you anything else! You're Joel, Joely, and sometimes even Joely Man! The latter reminds me of your stuffed animal "Doggy Man" that you named all by yourself when you were two. The funny thing is, Doggy Man isn't very manly at all. The poor little gray doggy (I think he's a Scottie dog, maybe?) came wearing a predominantly pink and purple girly sweater. Poor guy, but you two became fast friends and you love him just the same.

Speaking of men, you are becoming one right before my eyes! You have already shown your ability to protect me and your sisters, and that makes me very proud. You and your brothers are the only three men in my life now, and I appreciate your stepping up and helping out within your five-year-old capabilities.

I sometimes become impatient with you being so easygoing, laid-back, and good-natured. I am sorry that my rush-rush personality sometimes doesn't see the beauty in stopping to smell the roses as you often tend to do. Please forgive me, Joely, as I work on this issue.

I have many memories of trips taken as a family when you won the best traveler award-specifically, on the long flights to Hawaii and Wyoming (so much fun, remember?). I was astonished at how quiet and composed you remained. You are typically happy, helpful, and sweet no matter the circ.u.mstance. I admire these traits in you.

When I think of you, I can't help but picture your amazing smile and even more so your giggle that is infectious! When you start laughing, everyone around laughs with you, literally. It is refreshing to have you in our family. You are the perfect final piece in our puzzle!

In the recent months, as our family puzzle has changed and you and I have begun to accept this fact and deal with it, there is one thing I need you to know: My love for you will never ever change. This love I have for you will be constant, steady, and unconditional-always-until my last minute of my last day.

I am sorry that I do not have the skills to father you, but I am committed to properly mothering you to the best of my ability. I want you to persevere throughout life, Joel. I want you to work hard and never give up. Anything worth doing is worth working very hard for. I want you to develop a burning dedication and commitment to those things you deem worthy of your time. These are admirable qualities that will take you far in life!

I desire deeply for you a rewarding career, successful marriage, and a life filled with happiness, love, and lots of your laughter! I pray that you grow to love G.o.d and follow him always. Allow his guidance in your life first and foremost. Life will be difficult, and in the same token, enjoyable. Hang on, Joel, and finish the race strong. I will run alongside you, cheering you on-louder than anyone because I'm your biggest fan.

Thank you, Joel, for teaching me to slow down and enjoy life. I've enjoyed seeing it through your eyes, and those of your brothers and sisters. I didn't pick you, nor you me, but even if we had had the opportunity, we could never have done such a perfect job!

I love you, buddy, forever and always, no matter what, Mommy

13.

LETTERS OF LEGACY.

My parents taught me some invaluable lessons-lessons I'm trying to pa.s.s on to my own kids. Dad instilled in me a strong work ethic and financial responsibility. I remember him spreading out bills on the dining room table and inviting us kids into his process. He always put us in charge of adding stamps and an address label to each envelope. I have tried to follow in his footsteps by always paying my bills on time, working hard, and being as financially responsible as possible. Soon I'll have eight stamp and address label applicators of my own.

Mom, on the other hand, was a constant, steady presence in our lives. She had a home-cooked dinner ready each and every evening and always did her best to keep up with five rambunctious kids!

My grandparents, too, taught me so much, especially about the value of family. They knew I had always wanted to be a nurse, and they watched me work as hard as I could to pay for school. Using babysitting money, I paid for the first year myself but realized I didn't have enough to continue. Even though they didn't have much money to spare, my grandparents paid for my final two years of college. I continued working diligently throughout my schooling not only for myself but for my grandparents as well because they invested in me. When I graduated, Grandpa sent me a letter: "You're going to make a real fine nurse. We're really proud of you, honey."

I still have that letter.

As Grandma and Grandpa got older, I started to collect the other letters they sent. Grandma always sent me cards of encouragement, and Grandpa would take pictures, develop them, and then send them in the mail with a note written in his curly handwriting. They never failed to bring a smile to my face through their letters full of love, encouragement, and belief in me as a person.

Dear Katie,Sure was good to hear from you. Keep on hanging in! We love you and know you're going to be a real beautiful nurse.Grandma has the kitchen all messed up by baking pies. She says there's a small grape pie for us two. The others go to our pastors.When you are here we can talk about your need for whatever you need prior to your operation [tonsillectomy].We love you,G'pa & G'maDear Katie,We really appreciate your letters. You are more important in our lives than you seem to think. We have so many happy memories of you and your siblings. We treasure them all. You were an important part of family during all those growing up years.GrandpaThank you for the love letter! We love you too.G'ma This is one of many sentimental letters from my grandpa. I cherish each one.

As you have already noticed, I'm partial to love letters. Maybe it's because letters are a lasting form of communication. Or maybe it's because you know the writer spent quite a bit of time thinking about the recipient. All I know is how much letters have meant to me throughout my life.

One of my favorite chapters in the Bible was actually first written as a letter, but it is more commonly referred to as the "Love chapter." In fact, I got Hannah, Leah, and Alexis' middle names from this chapter.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails...And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.1 Corinthians 13:413 Grandpa struggled with congestive heart failure following a heart attack while I was pregnant with the six. His weakened heart took him from me in the end, but I know his love for me remains.

After Grandpa died in June 2005, we knew it wouldn't be long for Grandma. They had been married sixty-five years, and they loved each other fiercely. Theirs was an amazing and rare love story right up until the very end, when Grandma cried, "I just want to go be with Grandpa."

One Sat.u.r.day evening in September 2006, my sister-in-law came over to babysit the little kids, so the girls, Jon, and I could go to Lancaster General Hospital to visit Grandma. On our way we made a wrong turn-and then another one. We drove around Lancaster for about an hour.

Frustrated from what it took to get there, we rushed in to find out visiting hours had just ended. Determined to visit regardless, we walked in to find Grandma pulling out her IV. She looked up, and with recognition on her face, she said, "I haven't seen you and Jon in years!" We didn't have the heart to tell her we just saw her the previous week. As the nurse was putting her IV back in, Grandma remarked that she had never been so embarra.s.sed in her life. Then in the next breath, she turned to her nurse: "Did I do that?"

It hurt to see Grandma like that.

"How are you, Cara and Mady?" I was so happy she recognized the girls! They would have been heartbroken if she didn't. I doubt she remembered we had six others, as she didn't say her famous line: "You always wanted a little brother and he broke into six little pieces."

I held her hand once the nurse left, the IV back in place. I wanted our deep loving relationship to go on forever, but as I sat there with her, I realized it couldn't. "Grandma, I love you," I said, "and even though I'll miss you, it's okay if you want to go home to be with Grandpa. I don't want to be selfish anymore."

"I always liked you the best!" Grandma replied.

This was not the Grandma I knew. She would have never shown favoritism. It was so hard not to see her act like herself.

I looked into her eyes and I could still remember my dear Grandma and all the years of pure bliss that she and Grandpa worked hard to create in their grandkids' lives. The love she and Grandpa had for everyone and anyone-even those who appeared to be unlovable-was powerful.

I suppose I knew the day would come when we would be without them, but I had always pushed it out of my thoughts. As we each gave Grandma a kiss goodbye, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

A week later, I was lying awake in bed in the middle of the night; I kept feeling guilty about not going back right away to visit Grandma again. My sister had told me I needed to visit her soon since she wasn't doing well. I had so many logistical reasons for not going back over to the retirement home after she was discharged from the hospital, but the excuses didn't seem to matter anymore. I had a distinct feeling that I had lost my chance.

When I woke up the next morning, I brushed that feeling off and headed to work. As I was finishing putting my first patient on the dialysis machine and getting ready for the second, the phone rang-which is not an uncommon occurrence, but everyone was too busy to pick it up. About a minute later, the phone started ringing again. I had a feeling it was Jon, so I watched my co-worker Cindy closely as she answered it. As she turned to me, I knew it wasn't good. When I took the phone, Jon told me Grandma had died, and I sobbed, wishing I had been able to hug her goodbye one last time. She had just turned eighty-nine.

After our family's first special aired on TV, when we would visit Grandma in the retirement home, her friends would ask, "Oh, Ruth, are these your grandkids?" She was always so proud. She was a great Great-Grandma!

While Grandma and Grandpa got to meet all their great-grandkids, I'm sad they didn't get to know them better. I'm grateful for the memories I have of Grandma singing with our one-year-olds at our six-seater table, captivating them with her Girl Scout songs and the accompanying motions.

"Mom, tell us the story about Grandma and Grandpa," Alexis loves to ask. "Show us the letter from Grandpa!" I'm always glad she asks, because I'm trying to share with my kids stories of my grandparents' legacy.

Grandma and Grandpa taught me empathy, care, concern, and love. They were busy people, but they always stopped to pay attention to the small things. They loved watching birds, and I can picture my grandma saying, "Art, did you see that cardinal? Wasn't it exquisite?"

Grandma and Grandpa were my examples of unconditional love. They loved people-all people. And everyone was welcome at their house anytime for any length of time. They gave everything they had. Whoever met them, never forgot them. That's just the kind of people they were. They would receive hundreds of Christmas cards every year, and Grandma had baskets and baskets full: forget displaying them, there were way too many.