My marriage was preceded by a vision of my children.  Their individual births were preceded by visits of each child, more than once.  I was medically advised after the birth and death of our first that all babies would be early and probably die and I shouldn't have any.  I went to bed/couch with each baby, usually at 15 weeks pregnant.  Only one other was early...ten weeks...and he is now 18.  They came when the Lord sent them, no force of spacing on our part.  But then I was told contrary to the doctors that if I was to have all of the children the Lord had shown me plus the one he hadn't (I knew at the time of the vision that at least one was missing, busy elsewhere) I must not space them.  They came.  A couple of early miscarriages came and went.  But each child came.

With the arrival of my tenth baby...I died.  Assured that having happened once the medical profession would be prepared the next time and it shouldn't repeat but still my husband was terrified at the thought of having me beyond his mortal reach.  I prayed for more children.  He prayed that I not have any more if I wouldn't live through it.  His prayer must have been louder.  The day came when in a blessing the Lord told me he had heard my husband's prayer.  Knowing how loved I am but still longing for two boys I had seen when I died (and other times) I continued in prayer and faith and a monthly emotional roller-coaster.  Never using any control.  We had made that choice long ago and it was as much a part of who we are as any other aspect of our personal faith.

I always hoped and prayed that when the time came that I was finished that first I would know it and second that I wouldn't have to Choose to take permanent action.  I wanted time to be the enemy of creation, for a woman it always happens.  With time quickly approaching and my youngest even more quickly growing, I sought a blessing from a sweet friend.  Elder Rector laid his hands upon my head and told me, "It will be impossible for you to have another baby.  The boys you saw are your grandchildren and your influence over them will be mighty."  Of course he said other things.  Beautiful things about being a grandmother and I realized that the role of grandmother is not what the world things but something we have lost and the Lord wants us to re-awaken.  But for that I must go on faith as my oldest is twenty and she is not married.  But he said impossible.

My heart still has a quiet hope that the Lord might change his mind.  But my spirit is grateful for such an obvious answer to my prayers as I should know that I am done.  And impossible means that it won't happen at all or that if it begins to happen it won't end as planned.  I hope for the previous.  And still not controlling creation and sometimes not controlling my tears I enjoy the moments of my life.  Inspiration is everything to me and I rejoice in having known my little ones from the beginning of our married life.  But what if I hadn't?  These ten children who grace my home existed before I saw them and were mine even before I knew and if I had followed society after making covenants then someday I would have been painfully aware of something that had moved away from my heart.  And that is a truth worth considering.

This is something I wrote after my tenth was born.  When I died I found myself with Marshall, our first little baby who died when two months old, and two other wonderful young and unborn men.  Not knowing at the time that they were grandsons I put my heart on paper.  And because they are grandson my birthing end has come quicker than I expected, usually I am faithful but sometimes an uncontrolled grief slips in and I retreat for a moment of tears.

I expect to have only two more babies.  Two more endless nine months of worry and sacrifice.  Two more chances to experience movement within the center of my being.  Two more times to hear the first cry of my infant.  Two more times to hold that wet, pink miracle upon my tummy as everybody squeals joy and whispers awe at the same time.  Two more times to bring that new angel up to waiting breasts and quietly coo instructions as I wonder that one more little one has come to me with so little hair.

Only two more times to listen to nightly breathing and sleeping with lights on just to be sure I can see any pauses in that unique rhythm.  Only two more times of trying to get comfortable sitting on my waterbed as I hold my breast away from that tiny little nose, hoping that quickly my little one will get used to nursing laying down in bed.

Too soon I will find myself worried over that first growth spurt, that first tooth, and the first fever of my last two children.  Then I will grieve as I joy in experiencing the first smiles, the first giggles, the first babbles of my last two gifts beyond measure.

Not long after that I will find myself frustrated over keeping the stairs blocked, the cupboard doors closed and the toys picked up...for the last two times.  I will agonize over having to send my Bright-Light to bed at a decent hour, making sure he is warm enough for the cold nights, praying that he is secure and comfortable during the hours of growing up while I sleep and know that it is only two more times that such motherly stresses will own my attention.

Then suddenly...oh so suddenly...it will be one more time.  Just once more. One more time and then it will all be memories.

Too quickly the day arrives and there are no more babies, no more time.

Hold on to the moments and make them the best.