<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304</id><updated>2011-11-01T01:26:51.444-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Parker Daniel Rowley</title><subtitle type='html'>Some people only dream of angels, we held one in our arms</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-969997174935136161</id><published>2011-03-06T13:15:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-06T13:18:54.875-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Never Ever Give Up in Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="390" height="390"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/EDgVske63cY&amp;hl=en_US&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;version=3"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/EDgVske63cY&amp;hl=en_US&amp;feature=player_embedded&amp;version=3" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="390" height="390"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pause music from blog before starting video  :0)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-969997174935136161?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/969997174935136161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=969997174935136161' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/969997174935136161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/969997174935136161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2011/03/never-ever-give-up-in-life.html' title='Never Ever Give Up in Life'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-125643670619981500</id><published>2011-02-26T10:35:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-26T10:40:44.997-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Refiner of Silver</title><content type='html'>This post is maybe considered a continuation of my last post.&amp;nbsp; A great story about why we may be called to experience trials.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Malachi 3:3&lt;/strong&gt; "He will sit as a refiner and purifier of &lt;span style="color: white; font-size: x-large;"&gt;silver&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-BGSsRUWHFbg/TWk4FEEOhUI/AAAAAAAAFDs/QlTWkrGEcZI/s1600/refiner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" l6="true" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-BGSsRUWHFbg/TWk4FEEOhUI/AAAAAAAAFDs/QlTWkrGEcZI/s200/refiner.jpg" width="151" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;This verse puzzled some women in a scripture study class and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out the process of refining &lt;span style="color: white; font-size: x-large;"&gt;silver&lt;/span&gt; and get back to the group at their next class. That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining &lt;span style="color: white; font-size: x-large;"&gt;silver&lt;/span&gt;. As she watched the silversmith, he held a peice of &lt;span style="color: white; font-size: x-large;"&gt;silver&lt;/span&gt; over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining &lt;span style="color: white; font-size: x-large;"&gt;silver&lt;/span&gt;, one needed to hold the &lt;span style="color: white; font-size: x-large;"&gt;silver&lt;/span&gt; in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities. The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot, then she thought again about the verse that says: "He sits as a refiner and purifier of&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: white; font-size: x-large;"&gt;silver&lt;/span&gt;." She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the &lt;span style="color: white; font-size: x-large;"&gt;silver&lt;/span&gt; was being refined. The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the &lt;span style="color: white; font-size: x-large;"&gt;silver&lt;/span&gt;, but he had to keep his eyes on the &lt;span style="color: white; font-size: x-large;"&gt;silver&lt;/span&gt; the entire time it was in the fire. If the&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: white; font-size: x-large;"&gt;silver&lt;/span&gt; was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, "How do you know when the &lt;span style="color: white; font-size: x-large;"&gt;silver&lt;/span&gt; is fully refined?" He smiled at her and answered, "Oh, that's easy- when I see my image in it." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-8tknpSqo3Ds/TWk4FwCzEVI/AAAAAAAAFDw/6QXDx3n8d_c/s1600/oh_jerusalem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" l6="true" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-8tknpSqo3Ds/TWk4FwCzEVI/AAAAAAAAFDw/6QXDx3n8d_c/s320/oh_jerusalem.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-125643670619981500?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/125643670619981500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=125643670619981500' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/125643670619981500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/125643670619981500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2011/02/refiner-of-silver.html' title='Refiner of Silver'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-BGSsRUWHFbg/TWk4FEEOhUI/AAAAAAAAFDs/QlTWkrGEcZI/s72-c/refiner.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-2174360215253047267</id><published>2011-01-10T10:19:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-26T10:21:20.137-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad Things + Good People = WHY?</title><content type='html'>Why do &lt;strong&gt;bad&lt;/strong&gt; things happen to &lt;em&gt;good&lt;/em&gt; people?&amp;nbsp; Sometimes it's hard to wrap my head around this, especially when it comes to my faith.&amp;nbsp; We are taught that if we live righteously and do what we are supposed to do, then we will be blessed.&amp;nbsp; Okay, that sounds great in theory.&amp;nbsp; How then do you explain&amp;nbsp;why horrible things happen to "good" people?&amp;nbsp; I did everything I was "supposed" to do and my son still died.&amp;nbsp; Why?&amp;nbsp; Was I not righteous enough?&amp;nbsp; I remember wrestling with these ridiculous &lt;span style="background-color: black;"&gt;notions after Parker died.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why are some parents faced with the&amp;nbsp;trial of burying more than one child?&amp;nbsp; It is so hard for me to see good people suffer through horrible afflictions.&amp;nbsp; I just want to fix everything.&amp;nbsp; More than anything, I wish I could suffer for them so they wouldn't have to feel the loss, the longing, the horrible pain.&amp;nbsp; Nobody should have to lose a child.&amp;nbsp; Nobody should have to feel that ache.&amp;nbsp; Let alone have to suffer through it &lt;em&gt;twice&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend of mine buried&amp;nbsp;her&amp;nbsp;baby boy about two years ago.&amp;nbsp; And for whatever reason, Heavenly Father just called her second child&amp;nbsp;back to heaven&amp;nbsp;(another baby born premature).&amp;nbsp; Why?&amp;nbsp; She is the most loving, giving, serving person I've ever met.&amp;nbsp; She lights up the room.&amp;nbsp; She will be an amazing mother when she finally is given the opportunity to raise a child.&amp;nbsp; Why would Heavenly Father take a baby away from someone so utterly amazing?&amp;nbsp; It hardly seems fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I look at the eternal view of things.&amp;nbsp; I already know that infants who die are the choicest spirits of our Heavenly Father.&amp;nbsp; All these choice spirits needed to pass this earthly test is to receive a body.&amp;nbsp; That's all.&amp;nbsp; They just needed to receive a body.&amp;nbsp; I can just imagine our premortal existence.&amp;nbsp; I can picture these sweet spirits.&amp;nbsp; They knew they only needed a body, and we were honored to give it to them.&amp;nbsp; I'm sure my friend was at the first of the line to say, "I'll have the honor of giving you a body!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still don't know why bad things have to happen to good people.&amp;nbsp; However, I do know that those bad things have the opportunity to make us better people.&amp;nbsp; Stronger people.&amp;nbsp; More righteous people.&amp;nbsp; I also know that when we experience bad things, it makes us better able to have empathy towards others.&amp;nbsp; We are better able to comfort others and console them.&amp;nbsp; And if I can make one person's burden even the slightest bit lighter, I am overjoyed.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love each and every one of my friends who've lost a child.&amp;nbsp; I feel so close to them.&amp;nbsp; I've also made many new connections because of my loss.&amp;nbsp; It's amazing how close you can feel to someone who's gone through something similar.&amp;nbsp; It's AMAZING how the Lord brings these people into our lives.&amp;nbsp; The Lord DOES love us.&amp;nbsp; Even if we're called to experience something awful, Heavenly Father loves us and is aware of our torment.&amp;nbsp; He will never leave us alone.&amp;nbsp; He is with us every moment of every day.&amp;nbsp; We are in His every thought and he will never ask us to bear more than what He knows we can handle.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I can't say I'm&lt;em&gt; thankful&lt;/em&gt; my son died, I &lt;strong&gt;can&lt;/strong&gt; say that I'm thankful for what I've been taught.&amp;nbsp; I'm thankful for the people I've met.&amp;nbsp; I'm thankful for the strength the Lord gives me, even now.&amp;nbsp; I can see many wonderful fruits of my trial.&amp;nbsp; And though I'm nowhere near where I should be, losing Parker has brought me closer to Heavenly Father.&amp;nbsp; Parker has given me a goal to reach for: I must live my life as best I can to be worthy to be with him again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-2174360215253047267?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/2174360215253047267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=2174360215253047267' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/2174360215253047267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/2174360215253047267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2011/02/bad-things-good-people-why.html' title='Bad Things + Good People = WHY?'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-2088275006399697990</id><published>2010-06-16T12:42:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-06-16T13:00:23.465-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Pregnancy</title><content type='html'>I am very grateful to be pregnant again and I feel even more blessed to be having twins.  However, there is one thing that I just hate about being pregnant:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you are pregnant, suddenly everyone wants to know how many kids you have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate it.  People usually ask it in the form of, "So what number does this pregnancy make?"  I get asked questions like that at least 4-5 times a week (and that's a lot for someone who's stuck at home on bedrest).  In between doctor's visits and testing at the hospital, everyone is always so curious. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I usually try to avoid completely answering the question.  I try to make it simple on everyone.  I usually say, "I've had two before this" and then hope they don't ask any more questions.  However, they usually do.  "Oh, so how old are your two at home?"  Ugh, now I'm forced to explain that my first was stillborn at full term and that I just have my one daughter at home who is 3 years old. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate the reaction because then there is the awkward silence.  Sometimes they'll say, "Oh, I'm sorry, that must've been hard."  Yes, of course it was hard!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being pregnant makes me think of Parker even more than normal.  I'm forced to talk about him more.  I definitely don't mind talking about him, but I hate that he comes up so casually and so often to random strangers.  I cherish my memory of him - it was a very special experience to me.  So I hate having to sum the whole situation up in the sentence: "My first was stillborn."  I'd prefer to talk for hours about how wonderful and perfect and beautiful he was.  I'd love to show pictures and explain how amazing it was to hold him and how I'll get to see him again someday.  Rather than just shrug him off as some small trial I went through years ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still miss Parker and think about him every day.  I will always think of him everyday.  I refuse to leave him out of our family when people ask about our kids.  He IS my son and he is sealed to me forever.  Why on earth would I leave him out?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-2088275006399697990?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/2088275006399697990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=2088275006399697990' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/2088275006399697990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/2088275006399697990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2010/06/pregnancy.html' title='Pregnancy'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-2342971368223853574</id><published>2009-11-03T13:32:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T14:35:09.110-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Should I Say?  What Should I Do?</title><content type='html'>People often ask me what they can do to help someone who has lost a baby. I thought it would be a good thing to post about. Here are some of my ideas:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:180%;"&gt;Ideas for what to say/do when someone has lost a baby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Some ideas compiled from&lt;em&gt; Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Say something&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;!&lt;/span&gt; When we lost our Parker there were so many people who didn't dare say anything to us because they didn't know &lt;em&gt;what&lt;/em&gt; to say. Friends would avoid us if they saw us at the store. You don't need to preach to us or say something profound. Usually what means the most is, "We're thinking of you" or "You're in our prayers" or "We love you". And if you really can't think of anything to say, just hug us and hold us. We'll feel your love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't avoid them&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; I know it's hard to know the right words to say, but just being there for them so they can cry on your shoulder means more than you'll ever know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Please don't say that you know how we feel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; because you don't; unless you too, have also experienced the death of a child. And if you have, please share your story with them and be patient while they share theirs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-It's great that people say, "Let me know if you need anything," but let's be honest here: most people are not going to call you, even if they really need something. You need to &lt;strong&gt;take the initiative&lt;/strong&gt; and just &lt;u&gt;DO&lt;/u&gt; something. When our son died, one friend called me and said, "I'm bringing you a soda and a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;candy bar&lt;/span&gt;. What's your favorite kind?" Other friends rented some movies for us to watch and brought us some homemade popcorn. These two things meant the WORLD to me. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Take the initiative and just do something for them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-If you are &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;running errands&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, call to see if they need anything from the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Let them know that the death of their baby affected you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, also. Validate their child's life. Let them know you are sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Let them share their story&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; with you. Over and over again if necessary. Sometimes, they need to keep going over the details until they seem real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Send them a card&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Let them know you are thinking of them and care about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Give them something with &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;their child's name on it&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; An ornament, a magnet, a figurine. Seeing or hearing your child's name means the world to any parent, but especially parents who have lost their child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-If they have other children, please remember them. The siblings will be grieving also. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Offer to take them on an outing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, because it takes some time for the parents to face the reality that "life goes on."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Please &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;arrange meals&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; for the family. Not only did they just have a baby, but they are also grieving. Cooking will be the last thing they want to worry about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Remember the baby on his/her birthday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Mark the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;birth date&lt;/span&gt; of the baby on your calendar so you can send a note or call. It makes me smile when people call and say, "I was thinking of Parker today". It means so much to me when people remember his special day. Just to hear the name of my baby or to see it in print gives me comfort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Offer to come over&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; to throw a load of laundry in the wash, or other light-duty house work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Give a gift basket just for mom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Bubble bath, shower gel, stress relieving soaks, candles, etc. You could also give lounge clothing and a box of chocolates or other sweets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Plan a pamper night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; for the mom. A good friend of mine said, "We're giving you a make-over!" And they cut my hair, colored it, and made me feel like a queen again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-If you think about giving them a call or stopping over for a visit, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;don't think about it - just do it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. I can't tell you how many people I've had come up to me and say, "I wanted to call you or stop by, but...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Don't tell them their child is in a better pl&lt;/span&gt;ace&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. How could anywhere be better than in mother's arms? Although this comment is well-intended, it can still hurt more than you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Acknowledge their pain. Also acknowledge their strength&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Many people would try to minimize my experience by saying, "At least you didn't get to know him, that would have been worse." Or they'd say things like, "He never took a breath? Oh, then he wasn't alive" or "At least you can have more children." Any mother can tell you that you love your child like &lt;em&gt;crazy&lt;/em&gt; before they are even born. And any mother who has felt a child move inside her can attest to the fact that her child is/was, in fact, alive. And no matter how many children you have, you can never replace the one you lost. I appreciated those who acknowledged how hard my loss was for me and also complimented me on how strong I must have been to get through it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Give them helpful books. If they are religious, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;buy them a book&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; that pertains to their beliefs and that will offer them comfort. Find quotes from their prophets and church leaders that will help them through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Write the baby a note&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. I know it seems weird, but at my son's funeral we had people write letters to our son and then we kept them. I love being able to read back on them now. It also helps solidify that my child was real and that others loved him, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Just &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;be there for them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Let them cry when they need to cry. Hold them when they need a hug. Don't run from them when they shed their tears. It is a difficult thing to ask, but it lets them know you care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure there are many, MANY more helpful things you could do to help someone who has experienced loss. These were just a few ideas. Hopefully they will help you help others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please feel free to leave comments and offer more ideas/suggestions for things you've done or for things that have comforted you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-2342971368223853574?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/2342971368223853574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=2342971368223853574' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/2342971368223853574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/2342971368223853574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-should-i-say-what-should-i-do.html' title='What Should I Say?  What Should I Do?'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-5056384367463027261</id><published>2009-09-04T13:31:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T13:23:25.574-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When Hello Means Goodbye</title><content type='html'>Five years. It's been five years to the day since my son became an angel. My sweet Parker. It's almost crazy to still be feeling this overwhelming love for my son. Not crazy to me, but maybe crazy to some. After all, I never got to meet him outside of the womb. I never got to hear him cry. I never got to see him smile. I never got to see his beautiful eyes look up at me. And yet, I love him as deeply, as purely, as completely as I do my Hayley. My heart bursts with the love I feel for Parker, especially today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On this day every year, I let my guard down. I allow myself to be vulnerable. I let the pain back in. Along with that I am able to feel the emotions from that day again - both good and bad. I go through his box, I look at his pictures, and I read all of the old cards, letters, and his obituary. I allow myself to cry. Some years I will listen to his graveside service, but most years I can't bring myself to do it. Some emotions are better to stay distanced from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never would have imagined that the day I first met my son would also be the day I'd have to say goodbye to him. I never imagined that I'd be saying Hello and Goodbye in the same breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to wrap my mind around the idea that he would be five years old today. He'd be playing t-ball and soccer, he'd be teaching his little sister how to pump her legs on the swings, he'd be waving goodbye to me as he left for his first day of school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I will see him again and for this reason I rejoice. I still miss him like crazy though and I love him with all of my heart. I love you, Parker. Always, forever, no matter what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy 5th Birthday in Heaven, my sweet son.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-5056384367463027261?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/5056384367463027261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=5056384367463027261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/5056384367463027261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/5056384367463027261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2009/09/when-hello-means-goodbye.html' title='When Hello Means Goodbye'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-4416501619205499207</id><published>2009-07-27T16:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T16:41:24.475-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Please Don't Tell Them . . .</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Please Don't Tell Them You Never Got to Know Me&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by Pat &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Schwiebert&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is I whose kicks you will always remember&lt;br /&gt;I who gave you heartburn that a dragon would envy&lt;br /&gt;I who couldn't seem to tell time&lt;br /&gt;and got your days and nights mixed up&lt;br /&gt;It is I who acknowledged your craving for peach ice cream&lt;br /&gt;by knocking the cold bowl off your belly&lt;br /&gt;I who went shopping and helped you pick out&lt;br /&gt;the perfect teddy bear for me&lt;br /&gt;I who liked to be cradled in your belly&lt;br /&gt;and rocked off to dreamy slumber by the fire&lt;br /&gt;It is I who never had a doubt about your love&lt;br /&gt;It is I who was able to put a lifetime of joy into an instant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-4416501619205499207?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/4416501619205499207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=4416501619205499207' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/4416501619205499207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/4416501619205499207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2009/07/please-dont-tell-them.html' title='Please Don&apos;t Tell Them . . .'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-4391755438410751287</id><published>2009-06-15T22:12:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T22:51:25.286-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Hands</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/Sjcd9IbTVcI/AAAAAAAAEFI/Q8mtMJmMzf4/s1600-h/P1070559.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347776018596976066" style="WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/Sjcd9IbTVcI/AAAAAAAAEFI/Q8mtMJmMzf4/s400/P1070559.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When my son died, I was given a precious gift. A lady in town made a plaster cast of Parker's hands. I was so grateful for this gift because it was something tangible that I could look at every day and remember my son. I can remember just how perfect his little hands were. For years I've wished I could properly thank this kind lady for making this for me. About a month ago, I finally got my chance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was working at the bookstore when I overheard an employee helping a customer. It was a man and he was giving the employee his name and address so he could be put into our rewards system. I heard the last name and immediately recognized it as the last name of the woman who made my precious gift. I noticed a woman standing with the man and so I walked over to the register. I asked her first name and then realized it was the woman who I've been wanting to thank.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I asked her if she was the lady who made the plaster cast of the hands of babies who died. She told me yes. I told her that she made some for me when my son died. She completely remembered who I was, and she even remembered where I had lived at the time. That was amazing to me since it has almost been five years.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I suddenly felt overwhelmed with emotion. Not only was I feeling a deep love and sense of gratitude for the gift this lady had given me, but I also felt extremely touched that she was one of the very few people who was able to hold my son in this life. That is so special to me to know that she saw my son and that she held him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My eyes filled with tears as I expressed my gratitude for what she did for me. I explained to her that it is my absolute most-prized &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;possession&lt;/span&gt;. I asked if I could give her a hug and she welcomed it. I hope she knows how much her act of service means to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After she left I completely broke down and cried. I had to run to the backroom and take a few minutes to compose my emotions. I'm not sure why the whole thing made me cry. Maybe it was because I finally got to thank her. Maybe it's because the gift means so much to me. Maybe it's because she knew my son. Maybe it's because she remembered him after all this time. I guess it could be a culmination of all those things. Either way, I welcomed the tears, I cherished the memory. It's okay to cry when you need to. Even if it's been almost five years. Tears are healing and therapeutic. They help me feel close to my son. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In short, I just feel truly blessed to have been able to finally thank this kind lady. I cherish this gift every day. I am thankful that I was given the opportunity to meet her. Thank you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-4391755438410751287?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/4391755438410751287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=4391755438410751287' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/4391755438410751287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/4391755438410751287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2009/06/little-hands.html' title='Little Hands'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/Sjcd9IbTVcI/AAAAAAAAEFI/Q8mtMJmMzf4/s72-c/P1070559.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-7524361519235342215</id><published>2009-02-24T21:51:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T21:57:58.346-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing You</title><content type='html'>Parker,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been missing you so much lately.  It's been quite some time since I've just let my tears flow.  However, the other day I found myself crying in the shower.  Missing you.  Missing you like crazy.  It just hit me like a load of bricks.  I lost it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your memory was so clear and fresh in my head.  Your sweet face, your curly hair, your little toes.  You felt close.  Closer than usual.  It hurt.  My heart ached for you.  I want to hold you again.  I'm feeling that deep longing again.  I want to see you.  I want to rock you.  I want to run my fingers across your face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm wrestling with emotions that I haven't felt for awhile.  Pain.  A broken heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'll get to hold you again, but I've been weak lately.  I've been missing you too much.  I love you and no amount of time will ever erase that love.  A mother's love never lessens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although this fresh reminder of the pain hurts, I'll take it.  I'll take as much of it as I can get as long as it helps me feel closer to you - if even by an inch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Missing you.  Loving you always.&lt;br /&gt;Mom&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-7524361519235342215?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/7524361519235342215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=7524361519235342215' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/7524361519235342215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/7524361519235342215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2009/02/missing-you.html' title='Missing You'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-7750528457523706300</id><published>2008-12-05T15:11:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T16:14:47.237-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Funerals</title><content type='html'>I attended a funeral today. It was a beautiful graveside service. Everything was beautiful. Funerals always make me think of Parker. My heart always aches for the family as I remember the powerful emotions I felt at Parker's graveside service. I really do think I was still in shock on the day that we buried him. I never in a million years would have thought that I would be burying my first child. It hurt. Bad. Still does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I almost feel like I'm a seasoned vet at being around death and at funerals. The first loss I experienced was when my older brother (and best friend) died. He was almost 12 and I was eight. That one was hard, but I was young enough that I didn't quite understand it all. After my brother died, it seemed like I went to a funeral every single year. Uncles, great-grandparents, cousin, grandparents, etc. It felt like the domino effect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then a month before I got married, my real dad passed away. Yes, my real dad made a lot of dumb choices, but he was still my dad. And I loved him VERY much. That loss was harder than most people realized. But I got through it. I always do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think all of my losses helped me know how to manage my emotions and feelings when Parker died. It was still difficult, but I think I had a better understanding of things since I'd been forced to face death before. And it's definitely nice to have the gospel of Christ to help put everything in perspective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my Grandma died almost a year ago, I was able to have some of the neatest, most spiritual experiences. I am grateful for those cherished moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I'm just rambling now. In short, I'm glad I was able to attend the funeral today. Even if it did bring emotions to the surface. I'm grateful that I could remember my son today and feel a little closer to him. I'm thankful for all the angels in our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heavenly Father DOES have a special plan for our loved ones who pass away.  There is a mighty work in heaven that He needs them for.  What an honor to have had these people play a part in our lives.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-7750528457523706300?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/7750528457523706300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=7750528457523706300' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/7750528457523706300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/7750528457523706300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2008/12/funerals.html' title='Funerals'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-7884272467676680308</id><published>2008-11-11T14:46:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T15:23:43.677-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Count Your Blessings</title><content type='html'>After Parker died I remember having this insane longing to go to the temple and to church. I was aching to feel close to my Heavenly Father and His love. So although I wasn't physically healed well enough from the delivery to be leaving the house, I decided to brave through the pain and at least attend Sacrament meeting. I sat on a couch out in the hall and listened to the meeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had already had the funeral for my son and I was trying to piece my shattered life back together. Our bishop had attended the funeral and had been a great support to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the sacrament was passed, the bishop got up and expressed his desire to share a few words. He said he felt incredibly prompted to read the words to the song, &lt;em&gt;Count Your Blessings&lt;/em&gt;. He read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Count Your Blessings&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When upon life’s billows you are tempest-tossed,&lt;br /&gt;When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,&lt;br /&gt;Count your many blessings; name them one by one,&lt;br /&gt;And it will surprise you what the Lord has done. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Count your blessings; Name them one by one.&lt;br /&gt;Count your blessings; See what God hath done.&lt;br /&gt;Count your blessings; Name them one by one. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Count your many blessings; See what God hath done.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you ever burdened with a load of care?&lt;br /&gt;Does the cross seem heavy you are called to bear?&lt;br /&gt;Count your many blessings; every doubt will fly,&lt;br /&gt;And you will be singing as the days go by. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So amid the conflict, whether great or small,&lt;br /&gt;Do not be discouraged; God is over all.&lt;br /&gt;Count your many blessings; angels will attend,&lt;br /&gt;Help and comfort give you to your journey’s end.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he read the words, I broke down crying. No, not crying. Bawling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt such a strong connection to that song. Although I can't be certain, I do believe that the bishop was prompted to read these lyrics for my sake. I felt just as the song described: tempest-tossed, discouraged, lost. I felt that my load was too heavy to bear. I knew that this song was giving me direction. It was telling me what to do! Although I was having an incredibly difficult time in my life, this song reminded me to "count my blessings" and so I did just that. My heart was overwhelmed with comfort and peace as I thought of the many blessings in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I have been going through some incredibly difficult struggles. Struggles that are racking at my soul and hurting my heart just like when I lost Parker. Before church a few Sundays ago I had prayed and prayed that I would feel peace during the meeting and that something might speak to me to help heal my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again, my bishop (a different bishop than the one before - and a different ward), stood at the pulpit and expressed his desire to share the lyrics to the song, &lt;em&gt;Count Your Blessings&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he read the words, I wept again. I knew this time without a doubt that these words were for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the two most difficult times in my life, the Lord spoke to me through His messengers. He gave me the same advice both times: Count Your Blessings. How amazing that the Lord really cares about little old me! How comforting to know that He is aware of my problems and that He truly does love me. If I will count my blessings, "every &lt;em&gt;doubt&lt;/em&gt; will fly" and "angels will attend" to give "help and comfort" until my "journey's end." How comforting!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-7884272467676680308?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/7884272467676680308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=7884272467676680308' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/7884272467676680308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/7884272467676680308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2008/11/count-your-blessings.html' title='Count Your Blessings'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-315634449303447407</id><published>2008-10-10T00:12:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T00:26:26.156-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dreaded Question...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"&lt;em&gt;How many kids do you have?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For most people it's an easy question. For me it's full of heartache and hurt and longing. I still can't bring myself to leave out my son in the tally. But then if I add him in the tally then I am forced to explain that he died. And I most definitely don't mind talking about that, but it always makes the asker-of-the-question get uncomfortable. I'm sure anyone who has lost a child will understand how hard this is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I answer by saying, "One" then I feel like I am leaving my sweet Parker out. And he IS my son. I HAVE TWO CHILDREN. Granted, one might be in heaven, but I do in fact have TWO children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it might seem like a little thing to you, but it's a hard thing for me. Maybe one day I'll get to the point where I can just answer the question without counting Parker so I can avoid having to explain anything. But as of yet, I can't do it. I don't want to do it. He is my son and he will forever be my son. So maybe it's not my problem at all. Maybe the person asking the question just needs to be more comfortable with how I answer it. Ha ha, what do you think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-315634449303447407?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/315634449303447407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=315634449303447407' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/315634449303447407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/315634449303447407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2008/10/dreaded-question.html' title='The Dreaded Question...'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-5008378169797664257</id><published>2008-09-28T18:35:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2010-01-08T14:25:34.918-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If Life Were Easy, It Wouldn't Be Hard</title><content type='html'>I hate "trying." Actually, I &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;really&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; hate it. For any of you that have fertility problems, you know what I'm talking about and you would most likely agree with me - hands-down. It's not fun or easy. I hate having to take my temperature every morning. It's even more frustrating on days when I forget or take it late. And the most frustrating thing of all is when my temperature never rises (meaning I didn't ovulate). I hate taking four different medicines just to make my body do something that it &lt;em&gt;should&lt;/em&gt; do on its own. And even worse, I hate it when those medicines don't work! Ahh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this is a downer post, but I figure I can express my feelings on subjects like these on this blog more-so than my family blog. Plus, I'm really not one to share my business with others. I seriously hate it when people know that we are trying to get pregnant. We haven't ever told anyone when we were actually trying. I just hate the pressure. Because then every time you get together for family functions everyone is always waiting for the "big announcement," which in my case rarely happens. Or when you aren't feeling well one day everyone assumes you are pregnant. Grrr. But I figure everyone knows that we are wanting another baby since we already were pregnant and miscarried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If life were easy then we'd all get pregnant when we wanted to. Hey, wait, some people actually &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;can&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; get pregnant when they want to. Don't you love that? It seems like some people just wash their underwear together and they get pregnant. I'm not mad at those who are lucky in the baby-making department, it's just hard to swallow sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If life were easy, it wouldn't be hard. But I guess in the "hard" parts of life that's when we truly learn and grow. I know that I appreciate my daughter tons more than if I would have conceived her right away. So I do understand why we each have our own trials. I understand that I've learned patience and trust and reliance. I know that Heavenly Father has a plan for me and it's better than any plan I could have conjured up for myself. I am grateful that He sees things that I cannot and that He guides my life. I understand and appreciate all that. But I can't be strong all the time (hence, the reasoning behind having to vent in a post).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So even though I understand it all, I still long for a baby. I want one! I want one now! I feel like the bratty girl on the original &lt;em&gt;Charlie and the Chocolate Factory&lt;/em&gt; movie when she sings, "Don't care how, I want it NOW!" ...Of course right after she says that she falls down the chute to the garbage disposal...hmm...maybe there's a parallel there that I should be learning from. Nah, I want a baby!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why does &lt;em&gt;trying&lt;/em&gt; have to be so complicated and emotionally draining?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-5008378169797664257?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/5008378169797664257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=5008378169797664257' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/5008378169797664257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/5008378169797664257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2008/09/if-life-were-easy-it-wouldnt-be-hard.html' title='If Life Were Easy, It Wouldn&apos;t Be Hard'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-1461566431602711530</id><published>2008-09-21T21:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T21:56:04.544-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Parker's Birthday Pics</title><content type='html'>Here are some pics from us visiting Parker's grave a few days before his birthday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SNcW-spwpQI/AAAAAAAACMs/Czept9DYZ9s/s1600-h/P1040879.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248689157117617410" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SNcW-spwpQI/AAAAAAAACMs/Czept9DYZ9s/s400/P1040879.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SNcW_GdYtMI/AAAAAAAACM0/RbErvQtBTTY/s1600-h/P1040884.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248689164045038786" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SNcW_GdYtMI/AAAAAAAACM0/RbErvQtBTTY/s400/P1040884.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SNcW_qe1frI/AAAAAAAACM8/6NbA5qI2I1I/s1600-h/P1040890.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248689173714796210" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SNcW_qe1frI/AAAAAAAACM8/6NbA5qI2I1I/s400/P1040890.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-1461566431602711530?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/1461566431602711530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=1461566431602711530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/1461566431602711530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/1461566431602711530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2008/09/parkers-birthday-pics.html' title='Parker&apos;s Birthday Pics'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SNcW-spwpQI/AAAAAAAACMs/Czept9DYZ9s/s72-c/P1040879.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-9172018869648756823</id><published>2008-09-04T00:01:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T10:59:03.206-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Parker's Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SL91UtkPWHI/AAAAAAAACE4/yd3H07MQSG4/s1600-h/6588490-R1-039-18.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242037489971976306" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SL91UtkPWHI/AAAAAAAACE4/yd3H07MQSG4/s400/6588490-R1-039-18.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I’ve just assumed that everyone knows everything that happened with my son. I’ve been surprised lately to realize how many people don’t know much of anything. I guess it’s one of those situations where people are afraid to ask for details. So I’ve decided to share Parker’s story for any who want to hear it. If you have any questions, please ask. I always love to talk about my son.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found out I was expecting in January of 2004. I was excited and shocked when I found out. We had been trying for over a year and I’d kind of given up on the possibility of me getting pregnant. Needless to say, it was a pleasant surprise. I was due September 13, 2004.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything was picture perfect with the pregnancy. Of course I was sick and threw up almost all the time, but other than that everything was as it should be. Everything always measured normal and the pregnancy was everything I could have wished for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In April we had our ultrasound and we found out we were having a boy. I was seriously SO excited. I figured we were having a boy because that’s almost all the Rowley’s know how to make! We were excited and started shopping for baby stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a couple baby showers in August and we got so much stuff. We felt like we won the jackpot! The last week in August we decided to set the baby room up. My mom had bought us the most beautiful crib and I had painted signs with Parker’s name on. We had a blast decorating the room. I washed all of the 0-3 month size clothes so that I would be prepared for when my son arrived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt good my whole pregnancy so I decided to work up until September 1st and then that would be my last day until a couple months after I had the baby. September 1st was my last day of work and I was counting down to the day! I was coaching a local high school drill team at the time as well as working at Deseret Book. The morning of the 1st I drove to the high school to coach for a few hours and then I worked at Deseret Book until like 4:00pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom had decided to come to town with my Grandma and Aunt (who were coming to see plays at the Shakespeare Festival). My mom stayed at my house and she was there when I got home from work that day. Feeling exhausted, I sat on the couch and just visited with my mom while she worked in the kitchen. After a little while I said, “I haven’t really felt the baby move for a while.” I adjusted positions and thought I felt some movement. We were pretty busy the rest of the night so I didn’t really give it much thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor’s office called me and asked if they could bump my appointment up to early the next morning (I had an appointment for later the next night). I switched my appointment. My mom was supposed to head back to Salt Lake the next day, but she called and asked if my Grandma and Aunt could wait until after my appointment to leave because my mom was excited and wanted to go to my appointment with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Thursday, September 2nd I woke up and got ready for my appointment. Daniel wasn’t going to be able to go to this appointment with me so I was very happy that my mom was coming. Plus, I was hoping that the doctor would say, “Oh, you are in labor – let’s have a baby!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrived at the doctor’s office and sat out in the waiting room for a bit. The nurse came and called me back. My mom and I both looked at each other because we weren’t sure if my mom should come back or not. I’m a pretty shy person when it comes to my body and so my mom thought it would be awkward for her to come. But I was like, “Duh, come on back!” That in itself is a great miracle that she came with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked back to the room and the nurse had me jump right up on the table. She got out the machine to check for a heart tone. She lifted my shirt and placed the machine to my belly…silence. She kept moving the machine around and continued to get the same result…silence. She told me that maybe the machine was bad so she would get another one. She told me to go use the restroom because sometimes that helps babies move around so they can pick up their heartbeat. I used the restroom, washed my hands, and then dropped down to my knees. I asked that Heavenly Father please let everything be alright. I prayed that the nurse would be able to find a heartbeat when I went back into the room. I prayed with all my might that my son would be ok. I felt an overwhelming warm feeling of peace overcome me. I felt peaceful and wasn’t really worried that anything serious could be wrong with my son. I naively walked back to the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another nurse came in with a new machine and tried to pick up a heart tone for what felt like 10 minutes. I asked her what was going on and she reassured me that their machines were probably malfunctioning. She left the room to go get the doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor came rushing into the room and put the machine to my belly for not even two seconds. He took the machine off and asked, “When was the last time you felt the baby move?” I started to sweat and told him that I really couldn’t remember. He rushed me into the ultrasound room and quickly started up the machine. My mom followed. He scanned my belly back and forth, taking measurements and looking at different angles of the baby. After what felt like hours of him looking at the ultrasound screen, he turned to me and said, “I’m sorry, but he’s passed away.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom started weeping, “Jenny, no! I’m so sorry!” Tears filled my eyes and my heart sunk into my stomach. My mom jumped up to the table and embraced me. I felt as if my body went limp. The doctor hugged me and said some very comforting things to me. After a few minutes, he sent my mom out to call Daniel to come down to the hospital. They called Daniel but didn’t tell him anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor continued to reassure me that I would someday know the rich blessings of motherhood but that Heavenly Father had a different plan right now. I felt great comfort in his words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next was the worst part – when Daniel came. I had done an okay job of keeping myself composed. I was crying, but I think I was mostly in shock. But then Daniel walked in the room. It was just me and him. He opened the door and saw tears running down my face. He ran to me and just held me. I started sobbing. I couldn’t speak for a bit. Finally I said, “He died.” My husband lost it and started sobbing and we just held each other as we felt our hearts break. Our dreams felt shattered and our bodies were aching for this precious little soul we hadn’t yet met.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while the doctor came in and explained that they would induce me first thing the next morning. I was still trying to fathom what had just happened. By the time I was leaving the hospital my aunt and grandma had already arrived. I walked out the door and they ran to me and hugged me. I sobbed as they held me. They helped me outside to my car and we drove back to my house. I made it home onto my bed and just cried as hard as my body would allow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom and husband started making phone calls to inform family and friends of our situation. I’m glad I didn’t have to call anyone because I wouldn’t have been able to talk. I definitely appreciate the courage and strength of my mom and husband for making the calls to our loved ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bishopric came over and gave me a blessing. They were very loving and very supportive. My brother-in-law, Kevin, also came over later that night to give me a blessing. I felt the Spirit so strong while Kevin was giving me that blessing. He told me that Parker was a very choice spirit of Heavenly Father’s. And that Satan would have tried very hard to get him. He spoke many truths and the spirit whispered much comfort through that blessing. I felt as though the hands of a thousand angels were on my head while I was receiving the blessing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night as I knelt in prayer I received more comfort. I wanted more than anything to pray for a miracle, but my heart and mind knew that a miracle was not part of Heavenly Father’s plan. I prayed for strength and shook in fear when I thought of having to deliver a stillborn son. I didn’t think I had the strength. I didn’t think I could do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning was a very somber morning. We woke up bright and early and headed for the hospital. My stomach was too upset to eat. We walked in and the nurses immediately knew who I was and what I was there for. There was a special sign they put on my door so everyone would know that I wasn’t going to be taking my baby home with me. There were so many sweet nurses who cried with me and held my hand. I couldn’t have asked for a better staff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They started the induction at 5:00 or 6:00am. I had a relatively peaceful labor until my water broke. Throughout my pregnancy, I had been planning on trying to do it naturally without any drugs. I had comforting/peaceful music playing and I was trying my best to relax. After my water broke the Pitocin was causing the contractions to come very fast and very hard. Most of my labor was in my lower back because my son was facing the wrong direction. At about 10:00pm, I asked for the epidural. It took awhile for the anesthesiologist to get there but it was so much better once I got the medicine. It had taken me about 15 hours to go from 0 to a 4 centimeters and after I got the epidural I went from a 4 to a 9 in like 30 minutes. It definitely helped me relax and my only regret is that I didn’t get it sooner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as it was time to start pushing the nurse asked me if I wanted to see my son right away or if I wanted her to clean him off first. To be honest, I was a little worried how he would look since he had already passed away. I was scared so I told her to please clean him off first. I pushed for about 45 minutes. He was born at 12:53am on September 4, 2004.. When I felt my son come out my whole attitude changed. As soon as he came out, my body was filled with this overwhelmingly powerful love for him. It’s indescribable how much love I felt for him in that instant. I didn’t care what he looked like. I said, “I want him! I want to hold my baby.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They passed him straight up into my arms. He was perfect. He was beautiful. He wasn’t scary, he was my son. Ten fingers, ten toes - dark, curly hair and chubby cheeks. He was beautiful. He was perfect. He was mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I held him and kissed him I felt so much warmth and peace. It really is so sacred to me and words don’t do it justice. Let’s just say that it’s the closest I have ever felt to the veil or to heaven. It is an incredibly powerful feeling - one of peace, hope, love, and eternity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They bathed him, dressed him, and brought him back to me. We were able to hold him and take pictures. It was the most special two hours of my life. We were able to have a lot of family there. He honestly looked so perfect. He looked like any other healthy baby. The only difference was that his spirit was no longer in his body. We named in Parker Daniel Rowley because that was the name we had chosen for him before he died. And it was &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;his&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a graveside service for Parker that was very touching and special. We buried him in Richfield because at the time we weren’t sure where we’d end up and we wanted him by family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weeks that followed were hard and also very enlightening. It is crazy to think that I had to bury a child. I honestly never really thought that I would be faced with a challenge like that. But I have found such great comfort in the words of the Prophets. I have spent many a night and day on my knees praying for knowledge and comfort concerning the death of my son. I miss him like crazy and I think about him every day. I know that he is a choice spirit of our Heavenly Father and that all he needed was to get a body to finish his earthly journey. I feel privileged that I was honored enough to be his mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are definitely times when I wish he were here instead of in heaven. It’s hard to see kids his age because I think about what he might look like or what type of person he would be. But then I think of the Master’s plan and I know that Parker is where he is supposed to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t wait until the day when I can be reunited with my son again. It will be such a warm embrace. I can’t wait to hold him in my arms again and kiss his little cheeks. It was a hard journey but I’d do it all over again just to hold him for another minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you my angel baby! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here are some pics:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SL91UXzMvrI/AAAAAAAACEw/wJmH4isUznI/s1600-h/6588490-R1-009-3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242037484129140402" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SL91UXzMvrI/AAAAAAAACEw/wJmH4isUznI/s400/6588490-R1-009-3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Us right before we left for the hospital to be induced. I like how the picture of the Savior is looking down on us.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SL91T3pj5bI/AAAAAAAACEg/rtI6Elvjbw8/s1600-h/0314760-R1-051-24.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242037475498780082" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SL91T3pj5bI/AAAAAAAACEg/rtI6Elvjbw8/s400/0314760-R1-051-24.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A table of pictures and momentos we had set up at Parker's funeral.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SL91TvsxqNI/AAAAAAAACEY/x3p9oiIcm9U/s1600-h/0314760-R1-047-22.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242037473364781266" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SL91TvsxqNI/AAAAAAAACEY/x3p9oiIcm9U/s400/0314760-R1-047-22.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SL91UOjIo9I/AAAAAAAACEo/ZYyx3UaPNTs/s1600-h/6588490-R1-007-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Parker's casket. I think it was just beautiful.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-9172018869648756823?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/9172018869648756823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=9172018869648756823' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/9172018869648756823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/9172018869648756823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2008/09/parkers-story.html' title='Parker&apos;s Story'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SL91UtkPWHI/AAAAAAAACE4/yd3H07MQSG4/s72-c/6588490-R1-039-18.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-4212353413307879135</id><published>2008-08-28T00:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T00:38:16.502-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Inspired</title><content type='html'>This is one of my favorite quotes regarding the death of infants. It has brought me a lot of comfort and I love that it came from a Prophet of God, Joseph Smith. I was very excited to see it in "The Groves" in Nauvoo when I was there visiting. This quote was given in this actual area where I took the picture.  What an inspired and comforting place!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SLZHQWuVtII/AAAAAAAACAw/TiWR4ZPmSfA/s1600-h/P1040255.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239453562795570306" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SLZHQWuVtII/AAAAAAAACAw/TiWR4ZPmSfA/s400/P1040255.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A picture of the plaque&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SLZHQ0rO1iI/AAAAAAAACA4/u6oFDqPP3D8/s1600-h/P1040257.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239453570835600930" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SLZHQ0rO1iI/AAAAAAAACA4/u6oFDqPP3D8/s400/P1040257.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Close-up of my favorite quote&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SLZHRIrodrI/AAAAAAAACBA/FEbP5TEv5ZI/s1600-h/P1040259.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239453576205989554" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SLZHRIrodrI/AAAAAAAACBA/FEbP5TEv5ZI/s400/P1040259.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The plaque overlooks the area where this doctrine was given&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-4212353413307879135?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/4212353413307879135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=4212353413307879135' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/4212353413307879135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/4212353413307879135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2008/08/inspired.html' title='Inspired'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SLZHQWuVtII/AAAAAAAACAw/TiWR4ZPmSfA/s72-c/P1040255.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-5315544510952148887</id><published>2008-08-03T20:56:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T21:04:35.894-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Little One</title><content type='html'>While going through some things today I found this poem that my mom had written for Parker when he died. I think it's beautiful. Thanks, Mom!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230492650083630914" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SJZxWliGv0I/AAAAAAAAB6A/rtbjjRCxb3k/s400/AngelWingsBaby.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Little one so sweet and dear&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How we've longed to have you here&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To hold, to hug, to make our life bliss&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Though now we must leave you with one last kiss&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And try to somehow understand&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;That keeping you here was not in the plan&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;For Heavenly Father knew better than we&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He kept you near him to wait peacefully&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Until the day comes when we together will be&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Forever and ever throughout all eternity.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;em&gt;Grandma Maycock&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-5315544510952148887?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/5315544510952148887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=5315544510952148887' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/5315544510952148887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/5315544510952148887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2008/08/little-one.html' title='Little One'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SJZxWliGv0I/AAAAAAAAB6A/rtbjjRCxb3k/s72-c/AngelWingsBaby.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-8040605140212629255</id><published>2008-06-16T22:24:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-16T22:32:58.751-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Memorial Day</title><content type='html'>I already posted these on our family blog, but since this is Parker's blog I felt that they should be on here, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SFc-Q32VFPI/AAAAAAAABiI/vwSv09RopDI/s1600-h/P1000989.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212703553295291634" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SFc-Q32VFPI/AAAAAAAABiI/vwSv09RopDI/s400/P1000989.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SFc-RpKYDiI/AAAAAAAABiQ/Zycvav55E_8/s1600-h/P1000993.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212703566532709922" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SFc-RpKYDiI/AAAAAAAABiQ/Zycvav55E_8/s400/P1000993.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SFc-SJHSi2I/AAAAAAAABiY/BFJ8ddxq6Ks/s1600-h/P1000995.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212703575109700450" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SFc-SJHSi2I/AAAAAAAABiY/BFJ8ddxq6Ks/s400/P1000995.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SFc-SuzM7hI/AAAAAAAABig/Ns9MWOptry8/s1600-h/P1000997.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212703585225993746" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SFc-SuzM7hI/AAAAAAAABig/Ns9MWOptry8/s400/P1000997.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SFc-TKO0-rI/AAAAAAAABio/87pfU61bHMA/s1600-h/P1010002.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212703592589621938" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SFc-TKO0-rI/AAAAAAAABio/87pfU61bHMA/s400/P1010002.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-8040605140212629255?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/8040605140212629255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=8040605140212629255' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/8040605140212629255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/8040605140212629255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2008/06/memorial-day.html' title='Memorial Day'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SFc-Q32VFPI/AAAAAAAABiI/vwSv09RopDI/s72-c/P1000989.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-4240617222269561828</id><published>2008-06-07T16:20:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T16:39:04.452-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Good</title><content type='html'>This is a beautiful song that I heard on one of Hayley's "&lt;a href="http://www.signingtime.com/"&gt;Signing Time&lt;/a&gt;" DVDs. The co-creator of Signing Time wrote it for her husband. Their first child was born deaf and then their second child was born with hydrocephalus and spina bifida. I can't imagine the struggles and heartbreak that they have had to face. However, amid their challenges they have also found the greatest joy they could have ever imagined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time (and I literally mean EVERY SINGLE TIME) I hear this song I cry. I relate to this song and it reminds me of all the hard times I've been through. It reminds me of the heartbreak and struggles that life can bring. Yet it also reminds me of the joys I have been blessed with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember as newlyweds I had such great dreams for us. I thought everything would work out as I had planned it. I assumed we'd have the "fairy tale" life like I thought everyone had. I thought we'd get married, have kids, and be as happy as can be. I never could have imagined that we would end up burying our first child. I never could have imagined the years of infertility problems we would (and still will) face. I never imagined how hard life could be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet, I never imagined how good it could be either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are the lyrics for the song "&lt;em&gt;The Good&lt;/em&gt;" written by Rachel Coleman. Hopefully I can figure out how to get the song on here one day. It is absolutely beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Good&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;It was you and me and the whole world right before us&lt;br /&gt;I couldn’t wait to start&lt;br /&gt;I saw you and dreams just like everyone before us&lt;br /&gt;We thought we knew what we got&lt;br /&gt;And then one day I thought it slipped away&lt;br /&gt;And I looked to my hands to hold on&lt;br /&gt;And then one day all my fear slipped away&lt;br /&gt;And my hands did so much more&lt;br /&gt;So maybe we won’t find easy&lt;br /&gt;But, baby, we’ve found the good&lt;br /&gt;No, maybe we won’t find easy&lt;br /&gt;But, baby, we’ve found the good!&lt;br /&gt;It was you and me and a new world right before us&lt;br /&gt;I was so scared to start&lt;br /&gt;I saw you and dreams just like everyone before us&lt;br /&gt;But how did they move so far?&lt;br /&gt;And then one day I thought it slipped away&lt;br /&gt;And I looked to my hands to hold you&lt;br /&gt;And then one day all my fear slipped away&lt;br /&gt;And my hands did so much more&lt;br /&gt;So maybe we won’t find easy&lt;br /&gt;But, baby, we’ve found the good&lt;br /&gt;Maybe we won’t find easy&lt;br /&gt;But, baby, we’ve found the good!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-4240617222269561828?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/4240617222269561828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=4240617222269561828' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/4240617222269561828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/4240617222269561828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2008/06/good.html' title='The Good'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-6490114778912219560</id><published>2008-06-02T22:46:00.009-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-16T22:24:18.778-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Promptings</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SETTvK4EmJI/AAAAAAAABdU/9NVQqfwsCcs/s1600-h/angelbabycloud.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207519876473985170" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SETTvK4EmJI/AAAAAAAABdU/9NVQqfwsCcs/s400/angelbabycloud.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems like an eternity since my last post. I've been wanting to post for quite some time now, but haven't been able to put all my thoughts into words. I still don't know that I will be able to do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My last post was about how grateful I am for temples and the promises we can receive from keeping our covenants. I wrote that post just a day after we had attended the temple. We had done Sealings that day. As we were busy sealing children to their parents, I kept having this strong prompting that I needed to try to have another baby as soon as possible. I wasn't planning on getting pregnant again for another nine months, so this prompting took me by surprise. I shrugged it off the best I could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The prompting scared me in a way because I absolutely hate the emotional roller coaster that follows me while attempting to bring a child into this world. I wanted to ignore the prompting because it reminded me of all the heartache I experienced while trying to conceive Parker and also with Hayley. The thought of "trying again" brings back all the raw emotions of months and months of taking my temperature and waiting for the right time; it brings back the sadness I felt seeing pregnancy test after pregnancy test with a big fat negative. It resurfaces all of the heartbreak I felt while trying to conceive Hayley. I would hurt every time I saw a baby and thought of my sweet Parker. I wanted a baby so badly after I lost Parker that it nearly felt like my heart would burst.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the temple. As much as I tried to ignore the impressions I was having, I couldn't get rid of them. We went to the Celestial Room after we were done and Daniel and I were just sitting, staring at the beauty of the room. Daniel leaned over and said, "I think it's time to have a baby." I was like, "OH CRAP!" Ha ha, don't worry, I didn't say it out loud. I was just thinking, "I guess this means that I can't back down now. He got the prompting too!" And so from there, our journey was to begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called my doctor and asked him to put me back on my medications that help me get pregnant. I started charting my temperatures again and the whole nine yards. Even though we both received the prompting to try again, I know that promptings are not always what they seem. Believe me, I learned that with Parker. I know that promptings may be guiding us down a different path or that they are intended to save us heartache in the long run or to teach us something we may not learn otherwise. I knew that just because we were prompted to get pregnant that it didn't mean that it would work out for us how we'd hoped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my shock and surprise, we conceived right away. I was shocked! It had taken us about a year and a half of trying to get pregnant with Parker and with Hayley. Everyone kept saying, "Wow, this baby is meant to be!" or "I guess Heavenly Father really wanted this baby to come to you at this time." Although I wanted to believe what everyone was saying, deep down something just felt . . . off. Even though two different pregnancy tests confirmed that I was in fact pregnant, I didn't feel like I was. It's a weird feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the weeks passed on, I tried to convince my head and my heart that maybe I was going to have a baby. I slowly started to tell family and friends our good news. As I told each person, I just had this weird feeling. I knew that I wasn't going to get to keep this baby. I tried to think positive, happy thoughts, but deep down I knew that there was nothing there. I was "pregnant" sure enough, but I could tell that there was nothing there to connect with. I felt ashamed that I wasn't "connecting" with the baby. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't going to work out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure enough when I went to my first doctor's appointment, we found that the pregnancy had stopped developing. Blood work showed that I was doomed to miscarry. Honestly, I wasn't surprised or hurt when the doctor told me this. I just said, "I had a feeling you were going to say that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that people must think I am crazy because I didn't mourn this loss. It's not because I'm heartless, it's because I knew all along that this wasn't going to be. I am thankful that Heavenly Father blessed me with the emotions I needed to go through this experience. It's amazing how He gives me strength and comfort at times when I need them most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am disappointed. I did want to have a baby and I was getting excited by the idea of having a baby this November. I am disappointed that we won't be having a baby as soon as we had hoped. I am disappointed that I have to try again. The thought of the emotional roller coaster sends chills up my spine. However, I know that we will be given the opportunity to parent more children. I am hoping that the Lord blesses us to have more of our own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how long I will have to wait until we can try again. I am just enjoying the time that I have until then. I look at my daughter and I am so grateful for her. Tears fill my eyes when I think of others who have lost a child and are still longing for another to hold in their arms. I ache for them. When I look at Hayley I am reminded of how truly blessed I am. I will enjoy every second of her that I can. It really is amazing that any babies make it here. I am so incredibly thankful for the joy that Hayley brings into my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am thankful for the life of my son. Although it was shorter than I ever could have imagined, how blessed I am to know that he's made it. He's where we all long to make it. He is saved.&lt;br /&gt;I am grateful for the experiences that I have been given. I am even more grateful for the things I have learned from them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SETVPK4EmKI/AAAAAAAABdc/sxsCCqW5z3M/s1600-h/IMG_0339_0016.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207521525741426850" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SETVPK4EmKI/AAAAAAAABdc/sxsCCqW5z3M/s400/IMG_0339_0016.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SETVPa4EmLI/AAAAAAAABdk/M77NuLli9ZE/s1600-h/P1010047Parker.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207521530036394162" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SETVPa4EmLI/AAAAAAAABdk/M77NuLli9ZE/s400/P1010047Parker.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SETVPq4EmMI/AAAAAAAABds/2pcMkDM0Toc/s1600-h/IMG_0370_0047.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207521534331361474" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SETVPq4EmMI/AAAAAAAABds/2pcMkDM0Toc/s400/IMG_0370_0047.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-6490114778912219560?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/6490114778912219560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=6490114778912219560' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/6490114778912219560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/6490114778912219560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2008/06/promptings.html' title='Promptings'/><author><name>Jenny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15586435016476710917</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/TSKfcmrirQI/AAAAAAAAFCI/rsfVfTaXoys/S220/Maycocks9.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2j6934VNbS0/SETTvK4EmJI/AAAAAAAABdU/9NVQqfwsCcs/s72-c/angelbabycloud.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-1762970514764560088</id><published>2008-02-25T21:12:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T21:20:53.585-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank Heaven for Temples</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R8OR6fr-QfI/AAAAAAAAADM/kUF7JWvJRkU/s1600-h/DSCN3987Temple.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171137231275835890" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R8OR6fr-QfI/AAAAAAAAADM/kUF7JWvJRkU/s400/DSCN3987Temple.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Right after Parker died I remember having this overwhelming desire to go to the temple. I not only wanted to go, I &lt;em&gt;longed&lt;/em&gt; for it. I knew that being in the temple is the one place I could go here on earth to feel as close to my son as possible. After I healed from the delivery I headed down to the temple. I felt such peace there. Just sitting in the Celestial room brought a warmth to my heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Even now I love to sit in the Celestial room. I always feel a smile sneak upon my face and a warmth fill my heart when I think of Parker. It's kind of our special place.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am grateful for this gospel and the opportunity I have to go to the temple. I am thankful for the peace and comfort it brings. I am thankful for personal revelation, especially that received in the Celestial room at the temple. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thank my Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, prophets, and church leaders for the temple!  Whatever would I do without them! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-1762970514764560088?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/1762970514764560088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=1762970514764560088' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/1762970514764560088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/1762970514764560088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2008/02/thank-heaven-for-temples.html' title='Thank Heaven for Temples'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R8OR6fr-QfI/AAAAAAAAADM/kUF7JWvJRkU/s72-c/DSCN3987Temple.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-7294158378845917655</id><published>2008-02-13T16:30:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T17:05:52.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Happy Place</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R7N-Bvr-QeI/AAAAAAAAADE/bNTHKczsoS8/s1600-h/Sleep+Heavenly+Peace.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166611765969961442" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R7N-Bvr-QeI/AAAAAAAAADE/bNTHKczsoS8/s400/Sleep+Heavenly+Peace.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night the Fire Department had a meeting for the Firefighters and their wives. It was a Critical Incident Stress Debriefing meeting. The lady taught us about the type of stress the firefighters have after some of the things they see while on a call. We also learned how to manage the feelings that arise because of the things the firefighters see. It was a very interesting meeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The most interesting part to me was when the instructor had us close our eyes. She peacefully talked us through what she wanted us to visualize. We were supposed to walk toward a door (any type of door) and slowly open it. Once inside the door, we were supposed to visualize a place. Most people chose to visualize somewhere that they had been before - a cabin, their favorite fishing place, their porch, etc. My place was a little different.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I visualized a place I had never been before. It was bright and sunny, with beautifully lush trees. There was green grass everywhere and I was dressed in white walking through it barefoot. It felt so good underneath my feet! And then rather than just imagining the place, I also imagined that Parker was there. I ran to him and held him in my arms. He was still an infant and I was able to hold, kiss, and rock him to sleep. I felt as if I were in heaven. It's the closest I've felt to him in a long time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then the instructor told us to walk back toward the door and come back to reality. I nearly cried as I placed my son back on the grass and walked toward the door. Actually, I did cry. It was one of the worst feelings ever.  I thought, "How dare you bring me to such a happy place and then make me go back!"  Ha ha ha! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The instructor had us open our eyes. She told us that the place we had just imagined was our "happy place" - a place where we will always feel peaceful and joyful. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Of course it is true. My son will always bring me peace and joy. I loved the experience I had and I was grateful to realize that Parker is in my happy place. I'd like to go there again!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-7294158378845917655?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/7294158378845917655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=7294158378845917655' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/7294158378845917655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/7294158378845917655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-happy-place.html' title='My Happy Place'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R7N-Bvr-QeI/AAAAAAAAADE/bNTHKczsoS8/s72-c/Sleep+Heavenly+Peace.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-295080626594992574</id><published>2008-01-28T22:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-28T22:56:55.358-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rites &amp; Promises</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R569EASOtxI/AAAAAAAAAC8/zBFkLI_P4u0/s1600-h/Wedding+Pictures+023.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160770099506755346" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R569EASOtxI/AAAAAAAAAC8/zBFkLI_P4u0/s400/Wedding+Pictures+023.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I ran across this picture from our wedding day as I was looking through some of our pictures on the computer. It reminded me of something I learned from it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I always liked this picture, but I never really saw past the fact that it was a picture of our hands and wedding rings. I had this hanging in our house several years ago. A couple of weeks after Parker passed away, our Bishop's wife came over to visit with me. She was getting ready to leave when the picture caught her eye. She stopped and admired the picture for a moment. She told me how neat of a picture she thought it was. I told her "thank you" and didn't think much of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next Sunday in church was testimony meeting. My Bishop's wife got up to bear her testimony. In her testimony she talked about trials and she specifically mentioned what Daniel and I were going through. Then she brought up this picture. She talked about how much this picture had touched her. She pointed out how symbolic it was - about how our hands are on the doorknob to open the door to the temple; and how that was symbolic of us holding the keys to the rites and promises that are given in the temple. Having been married and sealed in the temple we have been promised that we will be with our son again. Our hands will literally open the door to the rites and promises one day and we will hold our son in our arms yet again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course when she spoke about this she was much more eloquent. I don't even know if I am making sense or not. Nonetheless, I thought it was beautiful and the Spirit testified to me so strongly that what she was saying was true. I know that if I live up to my end of the covenants I made, I will be able to live with Parker forever. I am so thankful for this gospel and all it teaches me. I am thankful to my Bishop's sweet wife for pointing the symbolism of this picture out to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-295080626594992574?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/295080626594992574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=295080626594992574' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/295080626594992574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/295080626594992574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2008/01/rites-promises.html' title='Rites &amp; Promises'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R569EASOtxI/AAAAAAAAAC8/zBFkLI_P4u0/s72-c/Wedding+Pictures+023.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-3847373755893880769</id><published>2008-01-04T16:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T16:45:36.672-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love this poem</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Christmas in Heaven&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see the countless Christmas trees&lt;br /&gt;around the world below&lt;br /&gt;with tiny lights like heaven stars&lt;br /&gt;reflecting on the snow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sight is so spectacular&lt;br /&gt;Please wipe away that that tear&lt;br /&gt;For I'm spending Christmas&lt;br /&gt;with Jesus Christ this year&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear the many Christmas songs&lt;br /&gt;That people hold so dear&lt;br /&gt;O', the sounds of music can't compare&lt;br /&gt;with the Christmas choir up here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For I have no words to tell you&lt;br /&gt;of the joy their voices bring&lt;br /&gt;for it's beyond description&lt;br /&gt;to hear the angels sing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know how much you miss me,&lt;br /&gt;I see the pain inside your heart&lt;br /&gt;but through our memories so dear&lt;br /&gt;We're never far apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't tell you of the splendor&lt;br /&gt;or the peace here in this place&lt;br /&gt;Can you just imagine Christmas&lt;br /&gt;with Our Savior.......face-to-face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll ask him to light your spirit&lt;br /&gt;As I tell him of your Love.&lt;br /&gt;Then I'll pray for 'One another'&lt;br /&gt;As you lift your eyes above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So please let your heart be joyful&lt;br /&gt;and let your spirit sing&lt;br /&gt;for I'm spending Christmas in heaven&lt;br /&gt;and I'm walking with the King.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-3847373755893880769?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/3847373755893880769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=3847373755893880769' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/3847373755893880769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/3847373755893880769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2008/01/love-this-poem.html' title='Love this poem'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-1875609079615274118</id><published>2007-12-27T21:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T21:59:37.502-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Parker's Ornament</title><content type='html'>This is the ornament we got for Parker this Christmas. It was so precious!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R3SB7GUeV5I/AAAAAAAAAC0/BBeeruj_DEo/s1600-h/DSCN3224.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148883126300071826" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R3SB7GUeV5I/AAAAAAAAAC0/BBeeruj_DEo/s400/DSCN3224.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not the best picture, I know.  It really is a cute ornament though. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hayley has started saying "Parker" now.  I come to this blog page and show her Parker's picture.  I say, "That your brother, Parker."  And she says, "Karker" or "Parper".  It's so cute though.  I didn't even try to teach her it either.  The first time I came here I said his name once and she repeated it.  Now every time she sees his picture she says his name.  I think she remembers him from before.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-1875609079615274118?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/1875609079615274118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=1875609079615274118' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/1875609079615274118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/1875609079615274118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2007/12/parkers-ornament.html' title='Parker&apos;s Ornament'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R3SB7GUeV5I/AAAAAAAAAC0/BBeeruj_DEo/s72-c/DSCN3224.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-4712929729867795656</id><published>2007-12-12T20:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T20:21:05.413-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Always With Us</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R2ClFukLujI/AAAAAAAAACs/p5amT4fWEfU/s1600-h/Christmas+Card.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143292292274829874" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R2ClFukLujI/AAAAAAAAACs/p5amT4fWEfU/s400/Christmas+Card.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just love our Christmas card picture. If you look between mine and Daniel's heads, you'll see an ornament on the tree that is shining brightly. This is Parker's ornament! It wasn't planned for this to be there so when I saw the picture I couldn't help but smile. Parker is still a huge part of our lives. He is our light, we love and miss him. I love seeing little reminders like this that he's still with us. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-4712929729867795656?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/4712929729867795656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=4712929729867795656' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/4712929729867795656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/4712929729867795656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2007/12/always-with-us.html' title='Always With Us'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R2ClFukLujI/AAAAAAAAACs/p5amT4fWEfU/s72-c/Christmas+Card.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-2387238757559260196</id><published>2007-11-28T14:07:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T14:09:53.851-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Love You!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R03Y5Fu2MBI/AAAAAAAAACU/m6dM6-HYt_0/s1600-h/DSCN2978.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138001225202413586" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R03Y5Fu2MBI/AAAAAAAAACU/m6dM6-HYt_0/s400/DSCN2978.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R03Y5Vu2MCI/AAAAAAAAACc/hp5Fz2x0XSk/s1600-h/DSCN2977.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138001229497380898" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R03Y5Vu2MCI/AAAAAAAAACc/hp5Fz2x0XSk/s400/DSCN2977.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R03Y6Fu2MDI/AAAAAAAAACk/zs5w0dMMuGo/s1600-h/DSCN2980.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138001242382282802" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R03Y6Fu2MDI/AAAAAAAAACk/zs5w0dMMuGo/s400/DSCN2980.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy Thanksgiving! We went and visited the grave as a family on Thanksgiving Day.  We are grateful for the short time that Parker was in our lives.  His presence is still impacting us each and every day.  We can't wait to see and hold him again.  We love you Parker! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-2387238757559260196?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/2387238757559260196/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=2387238757559260196' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/2387238757559260196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/2387238757559260196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2007/11/we-love-you.html' title='We Love You!'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/R03Y5Fu2MBI/AAAAAAAAACU/m6dM6-HYt_0/s72-c/DSCN2978.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-5521984028190022019</id><published>2007-11-07T21:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T22:04:14.004-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grateful</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RzKYM74aPMI/AAAAAAAAACM/GTcKx7u_2qQ/s1600-h/Sketch+Savior.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130330273528560834" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RzKYM74aPMI/AAAAAAAAACM/GTcKx7u_2qQ/s400/Sketch+Savior.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;In my mom's ward this weekend, many mothers stood and bore their testimonies about children of theirs who were lost and falling away from the gospel. They spoke about how difficult it was to see your child fall away from the gospel. They were all very emotional.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Hearing this made me think back to when Parker was born. We had read Joseph Smith's quote about children who die in infancy (it's on the right-hand side of my blog) and felt comforted that our son was a very choice and lovely spirit. I also thought back to a blessing that Daniel's brother Kevin gave me. In the blessing he said that Parker was a very choice spirit of our Heavenly Father's and that satan would have worked extra hard to get him. The thought of this is terrifying to me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;To think that my little boy would have been sought after by the evil one more than others makes me feel incredibly grateful that my son was spared that torture. I am also grateful that I was spared having to watch my son go through such things. I don't know that I could handle such heartbreak. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RzKUxb4aPKI/AAAAAAAAAB8/EBCdHOsI8kQ/s1600-h/Sketch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5130326502547274914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RzKUxb4aPKI/AAAAAAAAAB8/EBCdHOsI8kQ/s400/Sketch.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I know that my son was too lovely and pure of a spirit to live on this earth very long, and for that I feel honored to be his mother. I just hope I can live as worthily as possibly to be able to meet his level of celestial glory to be worthy of him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-5521984028190022019?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/5521984028190022019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=5521984028190022019' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/5521984028190022019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/5521984028190022019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2007/11/grateful.html' title='Grateful'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RzKYM74aPMI/AAAAAAAAACM/GTcKx7u_2qQ/s72-c/Sketch+Savior.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-7974811142524592468</id><published>2007-10-26T16:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T16:20:36.175-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Joy Cometh in the Morning</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125773725730772562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RyJoC8k2llI/AAAAAAAAAB0/NpT67pe0Gic/s400/He+Lives.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;-Psalms 30:5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait for the resurrection so I can see my son again.  I love this picture of Christ after His resurrection.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-7974811142524592468?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/7974811142524592468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=7974811142524592468' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/7974811142524592468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/7974811142524592468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2007/10/joy-cometh-in-morning.html' title='Joy Cometh in the Morning'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RyJoC8k2llI/AAAAAAAAAB0/NpT67pe0Gic/s72-c/He+Lives.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-5931923990189255838</id><published>2007-10-15T19:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T20:01:12.374-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Infant and Child Death Awareness Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RxQZQhwh5fI/AAAAAAAAABk/DcPBWictDBM/s1600-h/Angel+of+Hope.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121746447957616114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RxQZQhwh5fI/AAAAAAAAABk/DcPBWictDBM/s400/Angel+of+Hope.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RxQZQRwh5eI/AAAAAAAAABc/0UmDWamCA_s/s1600-h/Christmas+Box+Angel.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121746443662648802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RxQZQRwh5eI/AAAAAAAAABc/0UmDWamCA_s/s400/Christmas+Box+Angel.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, October 15th, the MISS Foundation recognizes Infant and Child Death Awareness Day. This is a day when we pause to remember the thousands of children who died at all ages and from all causes around the world. It is a day when we pause and remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Please light a candle tonight in memory of these precious children. The MISS Foundation recognizes the pain of families after a child's death, life's worst tragedy. We are here for you and your family if you need us.&lt;br /&gt;In their memory,&lt;br /&gt;The MISS Foundation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.missfoundation.org/"&gt;http://www.missfoundation.org/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When a Child Dies...&lt;br /&gt;To die one's self is a thing that must be easy, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;and light of consequence;&lt;br /&gt;But to lose a part of one's self--well, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;we know how deep that pang goes,&lt;br /&gt;we who have suffered that disaster, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;received that wound which cannot heal...&lt;br /&gt;It is one of the mysteries of our nature that a man,&lt;br /&gt;all unprepared, can receive a thunder-stroke like that and live.&lt;br /&gt;It will take mind and memory months&lt;br /&gt;and possibly years&lt;br /&gt;to gather together the details&lt;br /&gt;and thus learn and know the whole extent of the loss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;- Mark Twain, 1888, on the death of his daughter, Suzy Clemens&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-5931923990189255838?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/5931923990189255838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=5931923990189255838' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/5931923990189255838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/5931923990189255838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2007/10/infant-and-child-death-awareness-day.html' title='Infant and Child Death Awareness Day'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RxQZQhwh5fI/AAAAAAAAABk/DcPBWictDBM/s72-c/Angel+of+Hope.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-2068979613217986318</id><published>2007-10-14T14:29:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-14T14:38:35.572-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Children &amp; Angels</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5121292959540700626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RxJ80Bwh5dI/AAAAAAAAABU/4-5-qwz0EKY/s400/AngelCloud.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Perhaps children's innocence, wherever it comes from, contributes to the fact that they seem to see angels more often." - John Ronner&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-If any of you have ever closely watched babies, you will see them smiling as if watching something (or someone) intently. I like to think that babies can see angels and that the angels play with and watch out for them. I like to think that Parker has made Hayley smile a time or two.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-2068979613217986318?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/2068979613217986318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=2068979613217986318' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/2068979613217986318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/2068979613217986318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2007/10/children-angels.html' title='Children &amp; Angels'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RxJ80Bwh5dI/AAAAAAAAABU/4-5-qwz0EKY/s72-c/AngelCloud.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-6945250730532176823</id><published>2007-10-08T20:12:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T20:26:42.912-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lord Knows</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/Rwrj8wh4jnI/AAAAAAAAABM/lHTD-6bgn8c/s1600-h/In+His+Sight2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5119154559418666610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/Rwrj8wh4jnI/AAAAAAAAABM/lHTD-6bgn8c/s400/In+His+Sight2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I absolutely love conference. For some reason I always feel closer to my son during conference. A talk was given this conference that talked about people that are called upon to experience a tragedy. The speaker talked about how those people who have experienced the death of a loved one are much more compassionate, loving, and empathetic and how they are usually the first ones to help when others experience a tragedy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still cannot fully comprehend all of the marvelous things I have learned since my son's passing. However, I do know that I have learned a great deal about compassions and empathy. I used to struggle to find the words to say to someone who had lost a loved one. I now feel much more confident in how to comfort others during their losses. I am by no means perfect, but it feels good to be able to help and love others at a level that I never would have known how to reach before. I honestly ache when others suffer losses and I truly feel for them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Losing my son has given me an incredible view of the Atonement and of the miraculous gift of the resurrection. Although I have a strong testimony that I will see my son again someday and that he is currently doing a marvelous work, I have truly learned what it meant when Jesus wept with Mary and Martha when Lazarus passed away. Christ knew that Lazarus would be raised from the dead, but that did not prevent Him from showing compassion and love to the family. We truly do need to mourn with those that mourn and help bring comfort to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so very grateful that the Lord has given me the tools to be comfortable in helping others during their difficult times. I am grateful for conference and so thankful for the talks that were given.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-6945250730532176823?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/6945250730532176823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=6945250730532176823' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/6945250730532176823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/6945250730532176823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2007/10/lord-knows.html' title='The Lord Knows'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/Rwrj8wh4jnI/AAAAAAAAABM/lHTD-6bgn8c/s72-c/In+His+Sight2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-7894126049996960113</id><published>2007-10-04T12:58:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T13:07:38.043-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautiful Poem</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;What Makes a Mother&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought of you and closed my eyes&lt;br /&gt;and prayed to God today&lt;br /&gt;I asked what makes a Mother&lt;br /&gt;and I know I heard him say&lt;br /&gt;A Mother has a baby&lt;br /&gt;this we know is true&lt;br /&gt;But God can you be a Mother&lt;br /&gt;when you baby's not with you?&lt;br /&gt;Yes, you can, He replied&lt;br /&gt;with confidence in his voice&lt;br /&gt;I give many women babies&lt;br /&gt;when they leave is not their choice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some I send for a lifetime&lt;br /&gt;and others for a day&lt;br /&gt;And some I send to feel your womb&lt;br /&gt;but there's no need to stay&lt;br /&gt;I just don't undersand this, God&lt;br /&gt;I want my baby here&lt;br /&gt;He took a breath and cleared His throat&lt;br /&gt;and then I saw a tear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish that I could show you&lt;br /&gt;what your child is doing today&lt;br /&gt;If you could see your child smile&lt;br /&gt;with other children and say&lt;br /&gt;"We go to earth and learn our lessons&lt;br /&gt;of love and life and fear&lt;br /&gt;My mommy loved me oh so much&lt;br /&gt;I got to come straight here&lt;br /&gt;I feel so lucky to have a Mom&lt;br /&gt;who had so much love for me&lt;br /&gt;I learned my lesson very quickly&lt;br /&gt;my Mommy set me free&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my Mommy oh so much&lt;br /&gt;but I visit her each day&lt;br /&gt;When she goes to sleep&lt;br /&gt;on her pillow's where I lay&lt;br /&gt;I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek&lt;br /&gt;and whisper in her ear,&lt;br /&gt;'Mommy, don't be sad today&lt;br /&gt;I'm your baby and I'm here.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you see my dear sweet one&lt;br /&gt;Your children are ok&lt;br /&gt;Your babies are here in My home&lt;br /&gt;and this is where they'll stay&lt;br /&gt;They'll wait for you with me&lt;br /&gt;until your lesson is through&lt;br /&gt;And on the day that you come home&lt;br /&gt;They'll be at the gates for you&lt;br /&gt;So now you see what makes a Mother&lt;br /&gt;it's the feeling in your heart&lt;br /&gt;it's the love you had so much of&lt;br /&gt;Right from the very start&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-7894126049996960113?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/7894126049996960113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=7894126049996960113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/7894126049996960113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/7894126049996960113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2007/10/beautiful-poem.html' title='Beautiful Poem'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-8229663923848860854</id><published>2007-10-01T15:00:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T15:03:02.421-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mommy, Please Don't Cry:  There are No Tears in Heaven</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116476378026500114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RwFgKFXyYBI/AAAAAAAAABA/NsmRbYeN6SQ/s400/mommy_please_dont_cry.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Mommy, Please Don't Cry:  There are No Tears in Heaven&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;-&lt;/strong&gt;This is an absolutely beautiful book.  I think anyone that has lost a child would love this book.  The artwork in it is beautiful and the story will touch your heart.  I highly recommend this book for parents of those who have lost a child.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-8229663923848860854?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/8229663923848860854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=8229663923848860854' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/8229663923848860854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/8229663923848860854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2007/10/mommy-please-dont-cry-there-are-no.html' title='Mommy, Please Don&apos;t Cry:  There are No Tears in Heaven'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RwFgKFXyYBI/AAAAAAAAABA/NsmRbYeN6SQ/s72-c/mommy_please_dont_cry.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-22378735116494530</id><published>2007-10-01T14:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T14:52:55.297-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Time</title><content type='html'>While searching through my sister-in-law's blog, I started to click on some of her links.  I ran across a girl who had just recently lost her son as well.  As I read her story, my heart broke for her.  How badly I wished I could take away her hurt.  The memories of my loss of Parker came rushing back to me.  Tears filled my eyes and I just sobbed for the girl.  Most days I'm ok.  I don't cry on a daily basis over the loss of my son anymore.  It still hurts and I still long for him, but the initial pain is over.  Every now and then, I cry though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a saying, "Time heals all wounds."  I agree with that, but not completely.  I think time makes things easier and I do think that the hurt slows down.  However, I don't think I will ever stop hurting and longing for my son.  There will always be a place in your heart that hurts for the child you've lost. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We hired a new lady at work - I think she's in her 40s.  She lost two sons to stillbirth over 15 years ago.  She told me how she still cries when she thinks back about her children.  She says that sometimes people are surprised that she can still cry about it when it was so long ago.  It doesn't surprise me though.  Even when you lose your child in infancy or pregnancy, they are still &lt;em&gt;your &lt;/em&gt;child and you still love them with all your heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope all of those who have lost a child can feel the redeeming love of our Savior and Heavenly Father.  The gospel is a glorious thing and I feel so privileged to know that I &lt;em&gt;will&lt;/em&gt; see my son again someday.  I can't wait to hold him in my arms again - how I long for that reunion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-22378735116494530?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/22378735116494530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=22378735116494530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/22378735116494530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/22378735116494530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2007/10/time.html' title='Time'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-5271971149141204201</id><published>2007-09-27T21:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T21:30:13.550-06:00</updated><title type='text'>One More Day (Lyrics)</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a crazy dream&lt;br /&gt;A wish was granted just for me&lt;br /&gt;It could be for anything&lt;br /&gt;I didnt ask for money&lt;br /&gt;Or a mansion in malibu&lt;br /&gt;I simply wished, for one more day with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more day&lt;br /&gt;One more time&lt;br /&gt;One more sunset, maybe Id be satisfied&lt;br /&gt;But then again&lt;br /&gt;I know what it would do&lt;br /&gt;Leave me wishing still, for one more day with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First thing I'd do, is pray for time to crawl&lt;br /&gt;Then I'd unplug the telephone&lt;br /&gt;And keep the tv off&lt;br /&gt;I'd hold you every second&lt;br /&gt;Say a million I love you's&lt;br /&gt;Thats what I'd do, with one more day with you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One more day&lt;br /&gt;One more time&lt;br /&gt;One more sunset, maybe I'd be satisfied&lt;br /&gt;But then again&lt;br /&gt;I know what it would do&lt;br /&gt;Leave me wishing still, for one more day&lt;br /&gt;Leave me wishing still, for one more day with you&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-5271971149141204201?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/5271971149141204201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=5271971149141204201' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/5271971149141204201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/5271971149141204201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-more-day-lyrics.html' title='One More Day (Lyrics)'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7056818411959667304.post-1343737538058925298</id><published>2007-09-27T21:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T21:15:13.690-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Beautiful Angel</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RvxxuagUe2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/pM1k2law47I/s1600-h/Parker.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115088318988843874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RvxxuagUe2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/pM1k2law47I/s400/Parker.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is a blog set up for our son, Parker Daniel Rowley, who was born still. We love him and miss him each and every day. We know that through our Heavenly Father's plan, we will be together forever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7056818411959667304-1343737538058925298?l=parkerdaniel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/feeds/1343737538058925298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7056818411959667304&amp;postID=1343737538058925298' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/1343737538058925298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7056818411959667304/posts/default/1343737538058925298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://parkerdaniel.blogspot.com/2007/09/our-beautiful-angel.html' title='Our Beautiful Angel'/><author><name>Parker's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11158105447897052906</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yWrE5dGBtds/RvxxuagUe2I/AAAAAAAAAAM/pM1k2law47I/s72-c/Parker.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
