Continued from Neil and Cherie
.

Marshall Wayne
Our Little Premature Angel

And it is my will that you shall humble yourselves before me,
and obtain this blessing by your diligence and humility and the prayer of faith.

We conceived Marshall on our honeymoon.  I was so eager to get started with our family that I was thrilled it was happening so quickly.  I was living in the clouds as it was and to discover my child was on the way made solid earth completely invisible.

When we married, Neil did not have a job.  A friend called him and asked for his help at a construction site.  So, the Lord provided and I sent my new husband off each day to labor for his family.  We had decided against my working.  We felt that while we expected there to be financial adjustments with our new marriage we did not want those adjustments to level out at a two-income budget.  We felt it far better to start our married life with the sacrifices needed than to try to readjust once a baby arrived.  I have always been grateful for this early decision.

The only symptom of pregnancy was my emotions being out of control.  I literally cried each day for the first three months.  A large part of it was the inevitable release of all the ignored fears and pains of the Not Dating Time.  I had made it through that period simply by ignoring these emotions and now they crashed down on me in full force.  I cried so frequently that Neil was at a loss as to what to do.

I kept saying, "It's just because I am pregnant.  It'll end in three months."  If I had known how closely Neil watched the calendar, hoping I was right, and that some women are emotional the entire pregnancy, I would not have sounded so confident.  It did stop right at the twelve-week mark so my marriage was saved.  Years later I heard Neil tell a couple, "I thought I had blown it forever when Cherie was crying every day."

For me, life had changed completely.  I had a new last name.  I lived in a new ward, my husband's old one.  I had a new job as homemaker.  At that time the Young Adult sisters and the regular Relief Society did not meet together the way Priesthood did, so I now went to a new Relief Society.  I had a pregnant body.  I was now a wife.  For Neil, the only change was becoming a husband.

I did not mind the changes but it did leave me feeling a bit shy and unsure.  Yet, it hardly mattered.  When I wasn't crying, I was rejoicing and laughing.  I was also learning.  I was free to study and learn whatever I pleased.  I love learning and I love the freedom marriage brought.  My first course of study was our family's health.

I found myself awakened in the middle of the night with the most awful noise in my ear.  My new husband, grinding his teeth!  I told his mother.  She had long ago accomplished the very skills I was awakening to.  "Worms," was all she said.  I got out my books.  I never lacked for books to study.  After reading the herbal remedy for worms, I gave the cure to my husband.  He developed a terrible ear-ache.  It got worse and worse until he could no longer sleep.  After the third day and a very mighty prayer, he fell asleep in our bed.  The next morning I found this funny worm-like thing crawling from his ear.

With a Q-tip I took the apparition to my sister-in-law.  An educated dewormer, she confirmed the fact.  "Cherie, What did you give Neil?"  I told her and she looked ashen as she said, "Oh, that will get rid of them ok, out of any orifice available, but they will come out whole and alive."  She then told me what to do and in a few hours my husband was pain free.

After that, I took a course by a professional on herbalogy.  Unfortunately, he died of a heart attack before the class finished so I graduated a 2 herbalist.

My study on the colon fared nearly the same.  The instruction for using prune juice was four ounces before each meal.  As my husband would be gone for lunch, I decided to give him the lunch four ounces and the breakfast four ounces all at once.  Neil does not permit me to tell the results of my decision.  Naturally, I never repeated it.

I also turned to the study called Iridology.  It was a very interesting course of study.  After purchasing a fortune in supplements guaranteed to bring my hazel and Neil's brown eyes to the color blue I learned another lesson.  God likes the color of our eyes.
In my intense study of vegetarian cooking I have gone through many phases, one of which was the combining of foods to get a complete protein.  Following a disastrous dinner party for four, I learned still another lesson: other people don't like that sort of food.

After we were married only six weeks, Neil got a call from an old friend in Utah.  He wanted Neil to come up and work for him.  The prospect was good, so we took a quick vacation to see if it might work out for us.  We traveled from San Diego to Salt Lake City.  We stayed overnight at Russell and Janet Crockett's home.

The next morning they served us a delicious breakfast of pancakes.  Neil shuddered in disgust as he watched me eat my pancakes in the tradition of my mother's family, with peanut butter topped with hot syrup.  This is heavenly food for me, but to this day brings a cry of contempt from Neil's lips.  The shock came as he learned that his friend and family also ate their pancakes this way.

We stopped in Logan and checked the area out. Logan, Utah is a beautiful and peaceful community.  Then we traveled on to Neil's sister's home.  Becky served us a delicious breakfast of pancakes.  The shocked look on Neil's face when his sister spread peanut butter on her pancakes was priceless.  Becky had learned to eat them that way on her mission in Oklahoma.

We left Idaho and went over to Oregon to visit my grandfather. He served us pancakes! And of course, since he was the author of the tradition, we also had peanut butter.  Of all things, this was the greatest proof to Neil that life for him had truly changed.  Years later as we traveled to Kansas City, Missouri we stopped at a restaurant in Kansas.  Right on the menu was, "Pancakes with Peanut butter and Hot Syrup."  I now knew where the tradition was created since my grandfather was from Kansas.

The other eye opener concerning cooking came the day I overheard Neil talking to Becky.  "Becky, do you like burnt things?"

"Yes.  I always burn a batch of cookies just for myself.  I guess it comes from Mom's cooking."

"I know.  I keep telling Cherie that I like things burnt and not to throw stuff away.  But she just thinks I am being nice."

After listening to their conversation, I never let the color of the food I served bother me.  I also understood why my dear husband would insist on cooking everything on high heat.  Over the years the smoke alarm and the stove fan became common music in our home.

After returning to San Diego, we knelt down for a confirmation of our decision to move to Logan.  Both of us felt clearly that the Lord wanted this move for us.  It would mean leaving our families.  We knew we would miss the contact with them.  We spent so much time with our family that about two thirds of our meals came from family dining or leftovers.  We also were thrilled with the thought of our first adventure as a new couple.

Before leaving San Diego in the small moving van, we stopped off at my dad's mother's home.  She had just died and he let us have several pieces of her old furniture.  We arrived in Logan at our two-bedroom apartment and found that we now had a small space with wall-to-wall furnishings.  Literally, it was wall to wall!  I learned here that less is better.

One bedroom held our food storage.  This was a sore spot and a joke.  I had assured Neil repeatedly that we would never starve because I had our food storage built up to nearly a two-year supply.  I had diligently worked on it ever since joining the church.  What I forgot to tell Neil was that I did not know how to make a single thing with the dry beans and the whole wheat.  I would cry in my tiny kitchen because there was nothing to eat and yet nobody could walk into our second bedroom because of the abundance of emergency storage.  I managed to save face by saying that because I had no spices or seasonings, the stored food was of no use.  Neil would just shake his head and mumble, "Don't worry, I have food storage!"

Another frustration that came from living in that apartment was the kitchen.  It was so very small.  I was used to the giant, spacious kitchen of my mother's home.  At her house you could feed an army, and all of the dishes not seem so overwhelming as they did in the tiny room I now had to use.   I had done dishes all of my life, but now I had to do it on time, on my own command, in this very tiny kitchen.  I was pregnant and emotional at the same time.  This was quite a chore.  There were only the two of us but I would find myself standing in the crowded kitchen, looking at the chaos and overflowing with tears.  Of course this brought my new husband running, pulling out a chair for me to sit.  He would get right to work and in ten minutes he would have the kitchen shining.  So, my homemaking lesson was that the key to an ordered home is delegation.

When the time came that my little baby started moving within me I was a woman in dreamland.  I was thrilled with the feeling.  Neil would come home from work and find me sitting on the bed with my shirt pulled up, watching my belly move all over the place.  He never saw the movement though.  I would say, "Here!"  Then I would put his hand over the kick, but our little son would instantly quiet down.

I loved being pregnant.  Once the emotions calmed, and I was my normal self, the entire process fascinated me.  I was aware that I was not even of this earth, my mind and spirit being someplace finer and more pure.  I had always been so frightened that I would not be able to have children.  It was a very strong fear, and yet I had conceived so easily.

Everything was going along right on schedule.  I was worried about my weight though.  I found a book that showed a graph of healthy weight gain in pregnancy, a graph that has since been found far too severe.  I watched my weight like a hawk, comparing and making certain that I was right on target.

I did have a problem with low blood pressure.  That is never a real concern but it does cause a person to faint.  We would visit the Ogden Temple every week.  Once I fainted doing some work.  Neil was not with me at the time, so with the second-hand telling caused very little real concern on his part.

We lasted in Logan for only three months.  Neil was working on a commission and there just wasn't enough.  It devastated Neil when we got the answer through prayer that we were to move back to California.  Why?  Was our answer to move to Logan wrong?  Were we not inspired?  Had we failed? Was our answer to return to San Diego incorrect?

We learned an important lesson over this.  Sometimes the interpretation we attach to direction from the Lord is not the right one, but as long as we do what he says, it will work out as He plans for us.  We had thought we were in Logan for reasons of work.  This never did happen.  We returned to San Diego and a few months later had our baby.  The Lord had wanted us to move to Logan so that we could become dependent upon each other.  The Lord also brought us back to San Diego after that dependency was established, so that we could be with our families as we went through the struggles of our son's arrival.

I told Neil that I would name our daughters and he would only have the power of veto.  I also thought, at first, that he could name our sons.  He told me one day that he felt we should name our first son Marshall Wayne.  Marshall, after Neil's brother and Wayne, after my mother's brother.  My uncle Wayne had died from Hodgkin’s disease when I was a small child.  Neil felt that the names represented both strength and talent.  So, we would name our first son after people we loved and admired for those qualities.

I had three dreams during this time.  The first showed me a very tiny son, too small to nurse.  The second dream showed that same son and behind him I saw a healthy baby girl and behind her another tiny son.  The third dream was about the birth and how worried I was because nobody told if my newly arrived baby was a boy or a girl.  I put these dreams down as worrisome nightmares of a pregnant mother.  All three were from the Lord and sent to prepare me for what lay ahead.

We visited Neil's brother and his wife.  They were expecting their second baby.  They were having this baby at home with an excellent midwife.  They showed us their plans and I was thrilled.  I talked to Neil, wanting to have our baby that way as well.  Neil also liked the idea, but because I had never had a baby he thought we should have our first in the hospital and our future children at home.  It was a decision we both regretted later, but it seemed a wise idea at the time.  Having now had several babies, I am certain that things would have been very different, even if the outcome had been the same.  My pregnancy would have been more professionally handled had I used the midwife.

I called the hospital near where we lived and a nurse gave me the name of an obstetrician.  The nurse I spoke with said, "I have seen him do amazing things in births."  My first visit with him went well.  He spent the time needed to answer questions and seemed to be a reasonable individual.

There are forty weeks in a full term pregnancy.  On a Tuesday when I was almost thirty-four weeks along I felt my baby move down.  Way, way down.  I went to see my doctor and told him that the baby had dropped.  He felt the baby's head through my abdomen and said, "No.  The head is right here and has not engaged yet."  I mentioned that I could actually feel the baby's head inside me with my fingertips but he assured me that everything was OK.  That night while helping Neil with some church work I suddenly felt as if there were a ball where a ball should not be.

The next morning, Wednesday, I was having a "show."  That is a mixture of blood strands and mucus.  It is a sign that labor is about to begin and can start within 48 hours.  I telephoned my doctor.  "No, Mrs. Logan, that couldn't be a show.  You must just have an infection.  If you are still concerned then come and see me Friday."

I felt so silly.  I had read many books concerning pregnancy.  I was certain that I knew what was happening to my body.  I was also completely inexperienced and thus insecure in the knowledge I had gained.  When the doctor spoke to me, his tone of voice carried that knowledgeable contempt for a young girl who was telling him his business.  I was determined to not make such a fool of myself again.  I simply would not worry.

The next day, Thursday, I started to feel pin pricks inside me.  These were not painful. They were not even uncomfortable.  They were just noticeable.  Neil was working for my mother doing some construction on my grandfather's house.  I was alone at home and began to wonder if I should call and make an appointment with the doctor for the next day.  He had been clear that he did not want to see me until then, and then only if I still felt concerned.  I was concerned.

I dialed the phone with the intent of scheduling for the next day, when the Spirit seemed to yell at me and I asked to be seen immediately.  No.  The doctor was too busy.  I found myself overcoming my insecurity and I insisted, no discussion, that I be seen right away.  I then dialed Neil and had him come right home.  We drove to the doctor’s office, which was adjacent to the hospital, and as Neil parked the car I had my first contraction.  I sat in the car, unable to move.  As soon as the contraction was over we quickly walked into the office.

I had another contraction while signing in at the window.  I was curious over the sensations and without a clue as to the seriousness of the situation.

Neil was left behind in the waiting room as the nurse ushered me in to see the doctor.  He was not happy to have me sitting there.  "Mrs. Logan.  You are not in labor.  You have an infection."  The test he ran for the infection later came out negative.  I did not have an infection.

"Now, I am going to check the baby."  Silence permeated the room.  I waited and I felt sure that I was having the contractions I had only read about.  "Mrs. Logan, you are going to have your baby tonight.  There is nothing we can do to stop it.  You are already five-and-a-half centimeters dilated.  I want you to walk to the hospital and I will meet you there in a few minutes.  You are thirty-four weeks and your baby weighs over five pounds."

He left abruptly, and in shock and joyful anticipation I dressed.  Meanwhile, the doctor was paging Neil.  The doctor informed him that he was about to be a father and all Neil could think was, "Impossible, I haven't showered yet."

We walked to the hospital.  I went straight to the labor room.  The contractions were the same as they were when they first started.  The doctor came right in and said I was then at eight centimeters and I told him that I was feeling as if I were going to faint.  Remember, I am one of those ladies who really do faint in pregnancy.  "Mrs. Logan, you are panicking.  I will give you an epidural."

"Doctor.  I am not panicking.  I am feeling faint.  I am not in pain and do not want an epidural."  But he did not believe me, and against my express wishes issued the epidural and broke my water.  Of course with later babies I would prove to myself that I really did not feel much pain.

They moved me into the delivery room.  The doctor attempted to deliver my baby.  He told me to push when there was a contraction.  I had an epidural and felt no contraction at all.  He yelled at me.  The nurse put her hands on my belly to try to feel a contraction and at first said there were none.  Then she said, "There's one, deep inside and very mild."  Of course that first time we had no idea how easily I labored.  The doctor attempted a forceps delivery but it never happened.
My baby was born and I heard the weak cries.  The doctor only said, "At least there is a cry."  Nobody would tell me whether I had just delivered a son or a daughter.

I did not see my son at the birth.  He was born struggling to breathe.  The doctor repaired my body and they sent me off to my room.  I knew nothing about what was going on.  I did know that I was no longer pregnant.  I no longer had that little baby to cuddle within me.  I could no longer look in awe at the independent movement of my belly.  I would no longer be able to whisper sounds of love to my miracle as I drifted in the clouds of bliss.

Neil came in and held me and cried.  "I gave him a blessing and my finger covered his whole head."  Our Marshall weighed three pounds six ounces.

Somebody told me that our son needed to be life-flighted to another hospital.  Which hospital did we want?  There were two that could take care of our sick son.  I asked if the treatment would be the same at them both and was assured that, yes, the care would be identical.  We chose.

Some years later we found that the treatment would not have been the same.  The hospital we did not choose was the one that helped develop surfactant, using it in the treatment of premature babies.  Our son would have been a good candidate for the surfactant.  A few drops placed in the lungs will greatly decrease the onslaught of Hylane Membrane Disease.  Twenty years were spent in studying this miracle saver of lives before being released to the public about ten years after my son’s death.

That was the hardest night of my young life.  I was alone in one hospital while my husband slept at home and our son fought for his life in another hospital.

Years later, I was pregnant with my fifth baby and Neil was out of town for a chiropractic meeting.  Neil's mother took the children to sleep all night at her home.  As night approached, I found myself full of misgivings, dread, and the feeling of unstoppable doom.  I locked the doors, I turned on all the lights, I took the phone into my bedroom and had it ready to dial 911 instantly, and I locked my bedroom door.

I prayed.  Then I realized that the only other time that I had been entirely alone all night was that night when Marshall was born.  All the feelings of that time were crashing down upon me.  Now understanding this, I could quickly put the apprehension aside and spend a peaceful night without my husband or children.  Not so that night when the birth really did happen.  That night, in spite of medication, I could not sleep.  The awakening from my new heavenly married life was too abrupt.  I called the hospital nearly every hour just to hear that my son still lived.

They released me the next day and we went straight to my son's hospital.  When we spoke to the doctors, they told us that if he did not die in the first three days then he would probably live.  The doctor told me that if I had known forty-eight hours ahead of time that there would be a premature birth then medicine would have been given me to speed the development of Marshall's lungs.  I told them that we had known but my doctor didn't believe me.  They told me that if my labor had been longer than the hour-and-a-half that it was then his lungs would have developed quicker. They also told me that if I had not been given the epidural then Marshall would have had a far better start as the medication is counter-indicative to premature birth and can inhibit the breathing.  I, again, told them that I did not want the drug but my doctor had insisted.

We went in and saw my little son.  So tiny.  So very, very tiny.  We went every day.  It was not long before the sounds and sights of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit became as familiar to us as any room of our home.

At first there are feelings of discomfort in a strange surrounding.  Everybody had jobs that demanded their attention and we just seemed to be hanging around.  Before long we found ourselves able to focus upon our son’s bedside and tune out the distractions around us.  We were able to touch our little son, whisper our thoughts and love, and make his hospital bed our home.

Privacy is impossible in such a setting.  The nurses become skilled at watching the weak young lives while not invading the peripheral shadows of the grieving.  The nurses who watched over our son exhibited compassion and sincere love for his tiny life.  They were a comfort to us as much as to him.

Still, no matter the kindness of others, nobody loves the infant the way the tearful parents do.  In the end, the kind nurses and the quiet doctors fade away and forget the one of many charges in their care.  The parents remember forever.

We were advised to limit our time, not because of hospital policy, but out of concern for our own health.  We listened and heeded their advice.  It was another decision that we wished we had made differently.  Ever afterward we were determined that no matter the personal sacrifice one of us would stay with a hospitalized child.

Thursday, January 18, 1979
Today is the day!  I have chosen this day because it is a special one to our family.  Three years ago Heavenly Father told Mom about Dad.  Last year Mom opened Dad's eyes.  All on January 18!  Today, I was born exactly six weeks early.  It was easy for Mom and me.  It only took one and a half hours.  It was hard though, to have to leave her side so that I could live.

Friday, January 19
Today Mom got out of the hospital and she came with Dad to see me.  Yesterday, before I left, Dad gave me a blessing.  I grabbed his little finger.  He cried and spoke to me in the power of the Spirit.  Today I couldn't move because of drugs.  I'm a fighter.  I'm scared sometimes and want to be safe inside mother again.  Dad touches me, and I feel a blessing pour through me.  They kissed me for the first time. Mom kissed me on my hand and Dad kissed me on my neck.  I wish I could respond.  Does Heavenly Father tell them that I love them?

Saturday, January 20
Today Grandma Sommers came with Mother.  She is beautiful.  She touched me and I felt better.  I scared Mother today.  I'm sorry, but it's hard to struggle constantly.

Sunday, January 21
Today has been a good day for me.  I am past the worst time now.  Grandma and Grandpa Logan came.  Grandpa was afraid to touch me.  Grandma put lotion on me and moved my body.  I peed on her!  I have a good family.  Mom and Dad came.  I love them.

Monday, January 22
Tonight Mom and Dad came and I opened my eyes for them.  It was only a little but they became very excited.  Mother even cried.  It was such an effort because I am on the paralyzing drug.  Soon though, I will be able to move and respond to my parents' loving caresses.  I will be able to look at them, really seeing.   Then I will have images to go along with my other impressions of my family.

Tuesday, January 23
Tonight Dad had to work so Mother came with Grandma.  I wish Dad could have come too.  I need his blessing.

Wednesday, January 24
Today I almost died.  One of my lung lobes blew a hole because of the high air pressure.  The air went around my heart and compressed it.  The doctor had to stick a needle into my heart to stimulate it.  Mother got very frightened and called Father.  He got off work and came to bless me.  The doctor wasn't sure I would live but he doesn't know about the priesthood or God's healing power.

Thursday, January 25
Tonight I am a week old.  I am retaining a lot of water.  At least I haven't gotten any worse.

Friday, January 26
I'm getting better but it takes a lot out of me.  I would like to move but I'm drugged and very puffy from fluid.

Saturday, January 27
Today they are thinking of letting me wake up from the Pavalon on Monday.  Mom and Dad are excited.

Sunday, January 28
Today the doctor said that I was a very sick baby and that he will keep me on the drug so I will not be able to move.  Mother was sad.

Monday, January 29
This morning I got my last dose of Pavalon!  They changed their minds.   Actually, everybody is worried about the water I'm retaining.  Slowly now, I'm beginning to move.  Mom and Dad are as happy as I am.

Tuesday, January 30
Today they took out two chest tubes.  Mother could hardly wait to see me.  They are going to start me on my mother's milk through a tube in my nose.

Wednesday, January 31
I'm still gaining water weight.  I'm not accepting the milk but they keep trying.  I am concentrating all energy on my lungs.

Thursday, February 1
I'm still gaining weight.  They stopped giving me milk.  Now I am getting sugar water.  My intestines are not working well because of the Pavalon I was on.  I'm also getting a drug to help get rid of the water.

Friday, February 2
I am still gaining weight.  I'm not even digesting the sugar water.  They are giving every nutrient through where my umbilical cord was.  Dad blessed me and felt that I would be home in a few weeks.  He said that how long depended on me.  I am now eighteen-and-a-half inches long.  Two babies died today.  One died while my parents were here.  It hurt them to see the pain of the other parents and not be able to help them.  I'm glad my parents married in the temple of the Lord.

Saturday, February 3
I lost five ounces.  I weigh 4 pounds 8 ounces.  They even stopped the sugar water completely.  I'm at some sort of plateau.

Sunday, February 4
I had a bad time today and they had to raise my oxygen, my pressure and my rate of breathing.  This depressed my mother.

Monday, February 5
I gained two ounces so that I now weigh four pounds and ten ounces.  I still have too much water in me.  They clamped off another tube.  Then, this afternoon they removed it.  Now, I only have one chest tube left.  The doctor might have to operate on me before I will get better but they will wait some more before they decide.  I opened my eyes a lot for Mom and Dad tonight.  I can grasp their fingers.  I am happiest when they are with me.

Tuesday, February 6
Today I weigh the same.  They are now talking about heart surgery to close my ductus.  The ductus governs the flow of blood from my heart to my lungs.  It was supposed to close on its own with my birth but it has opened twice since I came here.  Also, they talked about plastic surgery for all of my chest scars.  If they do surgery on the ductus they will put in another chest tube as a precaution.  They might have to make an incision to take out a rib or to split two apart and tie the ductus just outside the heart.  I would have to be on Pavalon at least four hours.

Wednesday, February 7
The doctor operated me on tonight.  There is now a big scar from the middle of my back to the middle of my chest.  My ductus was bigger than my aorta.  They put a chest tube in my left side but so far it hasn't leaked.  I am on Pavalon again.  I am going through a complete physiological change and it is hard on me.  Dad, Grandpa and Uncle Rusty gave me a blessing.

Thursday, February 8
This morning I blew another hole in my lung.  The sixth chest tube has been placed.  They expect that I will get worse before I get better.

Friday, February 9
I weigh four pounds and ten ounces.  I gained three ounces of water.  I'm having a really bad time with my lungs.  The doctor put another chest tube into my left side and that makes seven different holes for chest tubes.  Dad got really discouraged today.  He blesses me and feels that I'll be OK but he doesn't understand why I have to go through all of this.  I wish I could tell him.  Mom is beginning to find out.

Monday, February 26
So much time of my life has gone by.  I am almost six weeks old.  My moments blend.  Every day the opinion is that I will die and then every day I live.  I love my parents with the whole of my being.  Every day they are here touching me, talking to me, and as they sit on either side of me, their love for each other and for me flows in a steady current through me.  This intense situation only strengthens them.  When they are with me they speak of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  My father once bore his testimony in Spanish and my Mother shed tears as she stood beside me whispering her love and gratitude.  They know I hear them because of a machine attached to me.  It burns my skin but I am glad that they can see my little body respond by the oxygen content of my blood increasing.  Dad has asked his family to fast with the purpose of my life.  He is a good father.  Though he works so much and at awful hours - I know because Mom always tells me - he always comes to see me.  I wish I could tell him of my love.

Sunday, March 4
Lakeside and El Cajon 1st Ward are fasting for my parents and me.  We need a miracle.

Monday, March 5
The miracle came!  They cannot explain it but I have been improving steadily and quickly all day.  Today when Mom and Dad came, something special happened.  For the first time Mother held me close and warm in her arms.  She cried. She was frightened though because she had dreamed that she would hold me and was afraid that this was the only promise that she had.

Tuesday, March 6
Today Mom came early and held me again.  When she and Dad came back later, I had become as before and he couldn't hold me.  Love surrounds me.  I have been gaining so much water weight that it is hard to move.  While my parents are here, I rest because their presence soothes me.  When they say that they must leave I open my eyes.  They cannot go when I am looking at them.  I'd keep my eyes open for hours if only I could.

Friday, March 9
I have understood and remembered for a long time.  Now Mother knows.  She hopes that this experience will be like Abraham taking his son to the mountain.  She hopes because there is nothing else.  The Lord has blessed my beloved mother.  She was prepared for my birth through dreams though she didn't understand at the time.   The Lord promised her that she would hold me through a dream.  Now, she has received the greatest promise and preparation.  She did not understand this new dream until she and Dad sat beside me and she began to whisper it to me.  As she spoke, the Spirit grew strong.  She knew, and she knew that I knew.  This dream was of the resurrection.  I was an infant nursing in her arms.  There was peace and joy.  After this understanding came to her, then my parents decided to give me a name and a blessing.  They had waited, hoping to have me with them in the ward meeting.  My grandpa and uncles came.  Dad blessed me.  He told me that I have been given many gifts and talents that I might return to my Heavenly Father and fulfill my mission.  Still, though, I cannot leave my parents.

Sunday, March 11
Today my father blessed Mother.  He told her that she would have to allow the Lord to do what is best.  My mother is faithful.  Though she doesn't want to, she feels the Lord may require her to willingly give me up.  If only she knew that I, too, have a testimony!

Friday, March 16
I have been on morphine all week.  I now weigh seven pounds and twelve ounces.  I can barely move because of so much water.  I open my eyes and look at my parents.  I love them more now than ever before.  I remember and I wait, patiently though because each moment now is so important.  When Mom saw me today, she kept asking Dad, "Are you sure this is Marshall?  Are you sure this is our son, my baby?" She saw my scars, fourteen chest holes and the heart surgery scar, and still she could not understand the difference in my appearance.  I am preparing for the greater part of my mission.  Remember, Mother?  Remember, the vision the Lord gave you when we visited you in your bedroom and you saw me standing with the scriptures?  I was young, too young for a mission but full of power.  I promise I will work hard in the Lord's service.  I promise.

Saturday, March 17
Today the doctors told my parents that my kidneys and liver have failed.  The doctors wanted my parents to decide about taking off the machine breathing for me.  My parents were determined and said, "No, the Lord has control over life and death, not a machine.  We do not know if his mission here is complete.  When it is, no machine will keep him beyond his time."  It has not been easy for my parents.  However, it would have been unbearable if they did not have each other, if they were not in the Church, if they had not married in the temple, or if they had not worked at developing their testimonies.  There were so many ifs that could have made these past two months an endless torment.  Mother said once, "It is a good feeling to have your faith tested and to find that you do not come up lacking."  Tonight as she stood by my bed, my mother offered her willing sacrifice.  With all the intensity and love of her being she asked that if my mission were complete, would the Lord please allow me to return home.

Sunday, March 18, 1979
My mother's holding me and rocking me.  My father holds her and bends over me.  I am warm and filled with peace.  My life has been in the constant presence of love.  I am grateful for my parents.  I am grateful that they were married in the temple.  I am most grateful that they heeded the words of the prophet and did not wait to become parents.  If they had waited, I could not have been with them.  I love them and have waited long to become their son.  I want my parents to know that I love the Father and the Son.  I have been with them and am returning without ever having been separated from them.  Right now, more than ever, we are a family.  My father, strong and supportive, is a righteous man.  My mother is faithful.  What more is there to life than this - an eternal family?

Sunday, March 18, 1979 - Marshall's Mother
"He's gone," my beloved whispered.  "Our son is gone."

All of the eager months of carrying him have long been lost from memory.  Even his birth is hazy and remembered as one would remember bits and pieces of a troubled dream.  Feelings have been so intense.   Love has taken on a deeper understanding.

Now, at this moment, at the death of my infant son, of all that could have been felt, my heart listens to unspoken words of beauty.

Is it the silent voice of my child speaking to me of a world equally as silent and elusive but filled with the light that never fails? How else could I feel something as incongruous as beauty at the passing of my first-born son?

The anguish came but that was weeks ago and afterwards there was peace.  The tears will come but they will pass while the peace will remain.

The Lord did not take my son - I gave him, given as only a mother filled with faith in the resurrection and hope of her eternal family can give.  With all of my heart drawn out in mighty prayer, I pleaded for my little baby.  Quietly, unseen family received him with gentleness into the care of my Heavenly Father.

Monday, March 19 - Marshall
My mission has begun.  There is much to learn and so much to do.  It is a glorious day!

One Saturday as Neil and I approached Marshall's bed at the hospital, I couldn't believe that the baby there was Marshall.  He looked so different.  I kept asking Neil and the nurse, "Are you sure this is my son?  Are you sure this is Marshall?"  He was in the right place.  He had all of the right scars, there was no doubt he was my son, but something was different.  Something caused me to not recognize him.  I felt that a very important part of him was gone.

Marshall’s doctor then told us that we needed to decide to keep him on the machine or to take him off so he'd die.  We didn't know if his mission was over or not.  All along we had been hoping that this trial would be like the one Abraham was asked to go through with Isaac, and that at the last moment the Lord would give Marshall back to us.  We decided not to take him off the machine because we did not believe it could stop Marshall from dying if that was what should happen.

There by his bed I remembered what Neil had said in the blessing the previous week about allowing the Lord to do what was best.  I felt that our love was keeping our son from leaving.  So with my whole heart, with everything I had within me, I prayed that if Marshall had finished his work here, would the Lord please take him.  I know it made a difference - my giving my son like that.

We went home and to bed.  The next morning around six o'clock a phone call from the hospital awakened us.  They said that if we wanted to see our son alive we would have to hurry.  The nurses loved him and some of them were there even though it was their time off.  Our family was all around him too.  Since it was a quiet Sunday morning, the staff let all of us into the unit.  We sat around and told of how Neil and I got together.  There was laughter and love.

Then I held my son.  Neil held me.  Everybody else faded away.  There was so much love flowing around that little bed.  Around noon on March 18, 1979 Neil said, "Our son is gone."  He had felt the spirit leave, although impulses kept his little body going through many facial expressions for a few more minutes.

They let us go into a private room and Neil gave him one last blessing to say that he was special and loved.  Neil blessed me and told me that Marshall was called to work with my family.  We loved him.  We gave our firstborn son to help in the salvation of my family.  He taught us so much and brought us so very close to the Savior.  Not long after that in Relief Society we were singing We Give Thee But Thine Own, a hymn written by William Walsham How. I knew that song was for Marshall.

"We give thee but thine own, Whate'er the gift may be, For all we have is thine alone, a trust, O Lord, from thee.  May we thy bounties thus as stewards true receive, and gladly, as thou blessest us, to thee our first fruits give. "

 As I sung the hymn, with tears streaming down my face, I again knew that my son was not taken.  He was given.  Given first to me and then given back in faith.  Nothing would be lost.  I would raise my little son.  I would nurse him, cuddle him, watch him take his first steps and speak his first words.  I only needed to wait in faith and I knew that I would allow nothing to interfere with my being faithful enough to receive that great gift back into my arms.