Gasp! 2 posts in 4 days...I'm not sure what the world is coming to.
I have a fun tutorial up on the American Crafts blog today. It's a cute home decor project you can easily make with buttons and brads. I'd love it if you stopped by!
I also have a few American Crafts projects to share.
The first one is a card I made for my 4 year old's first birthday party. I'll admit, I wasn't sure about this Confetti line when I saw the photos, but after seeing it in person I really, really love it. The colors are super fun and vibrant.
This next page is very personal, and very special to me.
PAGE REMOVED FOR PUBLICATION
I'd like to share the journaling here, as this story is as much a part of who I am today as anything else.
Fall, 1980
That summer, we put in an in-ground pool, to the delight of everyone in our family. I have so many amazing memories of that pool; time with family and friends and just hanging out with my brothers and parents, but all of it was almost erased. Because of me. Because of what happened that fall.
It was Autumn, the air was brisk and the leaves were turning, and so was the color of the pool water. A murky green, our Dad hadn’t quite gotten around to covering it. Three year old me was outside playing, my brother was outside as well, and Dad was in the garage working. Just hanging out, spending time together, but apart, any average family on a day off. After a while it occurred to my Dad and brother that they hadn’t seen me for a bit. To hear them tell it, they looked for at least 7 minutes before it occurred to them. Before that horrible idea wiggled it’s way into their brains. Before they realized that the murky depths of the 5 ft. pool might conceal something more than dead leaves. Dad dove in, searched around, and finally found me. Tiny, three year old me, as blue as the water in the summer and not breathing. James called 911, Dad performed CPR. Both of them knowing that it was likely pointless...by their account I’d been under at least 7 minutes, and how can anyone, much less a tiny little girl, survive that? The ambulance came, I was rushed to the hospital.
Mom was at a pageant thing in town and was tracked down quickly, given the news over the phone. Jeff was at baseball practice and he says he can still to this day remember Nana walking up the field and telling him what had happened. They both came, everyone came, all my loved ones rallying around me and sending me their love in the hopes that it would help. More life-saving measures were performed, but there was little hope in the hearts of my loved ones. Finally, after what must have seemed like forever but in truth was mere minutes, a heartbeat. I’d had my heart re-started after 7 minutes underwater. Later. I wake up, I see the faces of my parents hovering near me, anxiously waiting for me to talk to them, to find out if there was any lasting damage. The first words out of my mouth were about my Popo. My mom’s Dad, a man that was greatly loved and had been deeply missed for 3 years, a month shy of my entire life. I told Mom and Dad that Popo came to me; he told me I had to go home, that it was not my time to go. This is my miracle.
I remember none of this. It’s been told to me a million different times in a million different ways, but the heart of it remains the same. Something happened that day; something miraculous and incredible, something that my family holds very dear to their hearts. The doctors said the only reason I came out alive (and with no apparent brain-damage, though some people may argue that fact) is because of two things. First, upon falling into the pool, I immediately hit my head and was knocked unconscious, thus slowing down my entire system. Two. That water was cold. It lowered my body temp just enough to keep me alive. But noone, absolutely noone, has an explanation for what came out of my mouth when I woke up. I’d never met my Popo; I’m sure I’d heard thousands of stories of him, I’m sure he had been ingrained in my consciousness as sure as if he’d been alive, but I’d never met him. Sometimes I’m not sure what to believe, if the story has gained much in the re-telling, but in my heart of hearts, I know, and I believe.
Now I’m grown up, with two amazing little girls, and a swimming pool. I live in fear in the summers, and am constantly vigilant...I do not want the phone call that my Mother got. Ironically, I frequently profess to not believe in God. But then I think back, I remember, and I know. I’ve been given a miracle, my life is a miracle, and I am forever grateful.
And now after my dramatic little journaling, some cute overload. Some photos of my chubbamuffin girl, her first teeth recently popped through and have been giving her quite a time. but she's a little trooper. A slobbery little trooper. She's also rolling over both ways, wanting desperately to crawl, and recently began solid foods. This sweet girl is such a sunny, happy baby. She is so calm and content to just be. I'll admit that all these firsts are a little bittersweet for me; I know this will be the last time for all of them. So I'm trying as hard as I can to cherish every moment.
And now for the big sister. She can be so challenging; she is smart as a whip and stubborn as a mule. She pushes me to my limits daily, but also brings me more joy than I've ever known. She has such a beautiful mind, but she sees things just a little differently than the rest of us. There are days when I don't know what her future will be like, I worry about her constantly. And then other days I know that there is not a single thing wrong with her, she is who she is; she is different, and in that difference she is amazing.
wow Jen.. that is amazing. and my God.. i dont want that call either. *shivers*
Posted by: sasha farina | February 22, 2011 at 05:24 PM
Oh Jen. My eyes are just filled with tears reading this. Thanks so much for sharing...I will admit my curiosity was piqued when I saw the photos. That is a HUGE fear of mine, as well...and I don't even have a pool! It's such an incredible story.
As for your girls...adorable. That second picture of Nora...priceless. And I can't believe how old Ayla looks!!!
Posted by: justem | February 22, 2011 at 05:28 PM
Oh my goodness. What an inspiring story. I do believe in God and know first hand that He is gracious and loving and cares for all people. His desire is that all come to faith in His Son, Jesus Christ. I'm thinking He has some very important work for you.
Posted by: Laurie | February 22, 2011 at 05:28 PM
Make me cry again!
Can't imagine my life without you either!!! Love you bunches and bunches.
Emmy
Posted by: Emmy | February 22, 2011 at 05:36 PM
What an amazing story... I have shivers. I wondered about this layout when I saw it at 2 Peas the other day, so glad you shared it here.Really a miracle that you survived and you definitely had an angel watching over you.
The way you've described your daughter reminds me so much of my older son... he has always marched to his own drum, he is extremely brilliant, and he is different than any other child I've known. Just give her room to grow, and she'll come into her own just beautifully. The baby is adorable too, what a chub!
Posted by: melanie | February 22, 2011 at 05:36 PM
Wow. I related to this on so many of your points. My brother drowned 9 years ago this summer. He was 31. It is not a great call to get and probably worse as a parent. My Dad passed away the same summer and one day my niece who was three at the time started talking about Bumpa (my Dad) and how he taught her a magic trick. It was making a penny disappear. I looked at my sister and asked when Dad had shown her that and he hadn't. Not to our knowledge because the last time my Dad had seen her she was just a baby. I always think that children can truly truly see what we don't. And lastly, I have the same fears of my almost 4 year old son. Your words could have been mine. Thank you for this post.
Posted by: Jen | February 22, 2011 at 05:40 PM
Wow! Jen, that's an amazing story!!!! So glad you're still here!
Posted by: marcy | February 22, 2011 at 06:32 PM
thanks for sharing your amazing story. it's incredible. makes me think twice about my dream house w a pool
Posted by: samantha | February 22, 2011 at 07:51 PM
WOW. And more wow. What an incredible story, Jen!
Posted by: Jill Sprott | February 22, 2011 at 08:07 PM
Seeing my babies born was enough to convince me there is a God-getting them through their teens abstaining from sex, drugs and foul language-makes me absolutely sure there is a God who loves us all!
Posted by: lyley | February 22, 2011 at 10:20 PM
P.S. Loved the monogram!
Posted by: lyley | February 22, 2011 at 10:23 PM
one word: goosebumps. thanks for sharing the journaling. =)
Posted by: Debbie | February 23, 2011 at 02:45 PM
Oh my goodness!! What a story! Gave me chills. :)
Posted by: Michelle Clement | February 23, 2011 at 04:05 PM
Thank you so much for sharing that beautiful story. My mom raised us to believe that when a person hears a truth--a good, wonderful, merciful truth--they will get the kind of goosebumps that so many are getting from reading this. You and your family were given such a gift that day, the world is different and blessed to have you here. Never be afraid to believe.
:}
Posted by: Launi | February 24, 2011 at 02:43 PM
Wow, what an absolutely amazing story, beautiful journaling, I love the way you have included it on your page.
Posted by: Christine | February 24, 2011 at 04:08 PM
Beautiful story, Jen! Wow!
Posted by: Keshet | February 24, 2011 at 04:58 PM
What an amazing story! So glad it had a happy ending!! Truly a miracle!! I can't imagine the fear your family felt until the moment they knew you were okay.
And your girls are beautiful (& growing so quickly)!
Posted by: Stephanie Eaken | February 24, 2011 at 05:04 PM
wow, thanks for sharing some of you.
Posted by: Jenny Dziekan | February 24, 2011 at 07:45 PM
I was about to leave a comment about your amazing art work with the buttons and brads (your, I admit to just just looking at pictures and quickly scrolling down to leave the comment!poor me). A quick glance at the comments and I realize I have missed out on an amazing story about a miracle. Rush back and read the most amazing tale. Wow. Life truly is precious and 'more than meets the eye'. Good call, popo, that he send you back!
Posted by: Brandt-Lassen | February 25, 2011 at 03:38 AM
Gosh, how incredible! We put a pool in this summer and I'm paranoid to say the least, I keep thinking, he's nearly four, he knows not to go in, but you never know, gives me shivers
Posted by: Kathleen Glossop | February 26, 2011 at 01:52 AM
I think this is the first time I have EVER commented on your blog, I'm a loving lurker....But today I have to comment, that was an AMAZING story--And yes, it is a miracle! Glad you are here to share it with us and your AMAZING talent.
your girls are beautiful, I can't believe how much hair your youngest has, my kids were all pretty much wispy bald kids. :) I know what you mean about appreciating all the little things because you know it is the last. it's true, can't believe my baby is 8! Thanks for sharing your creations and story, you truly inspire me.
Posted by: Diana Waite | February 26, 2011 at 05:56 AM
What a story!! I have nearly the same one and I now understand how people feel when I say it...
Posted by: Ladybird | February 26, 2011 at 06:16 PM
what an awesome story
Posted by: virginia | March 01, 2011 at 01:37 PM
Chills all over!!!!!! So glad you made it through! You clearly were meant to be on this earth. I remember as a child my friend's live-in maid's grandson disappeared. The whole neighborhood looked for him forever. The pool was so green that no one could see. Heartbreaking! It made me fearful of pools as well. Thank you for sharing your amazing story!
Posted by: Shannon Taylor | March 04, 2011 at 04:04 PM
The 4 year old son of a friend died last year after a near drowning accident, and knowing the heartbreak that his drowning caused, all I can say is you are certainly one very lucky girl to have survived unscathed. I am so glad for you that you were alright. Every reminder like this is invaluable, to take care of our children with pool fences and gates, and watchful eyes at all times.
Posted by: Ceci | March 12, 2011 at 03:54 PM