Preface: First off, I must confess that I am not a great story teller, though I have many skills, telling stories is not one of them, but it is like the paraplegic who learned to use her legs to do the same things others do with their arms. I hope my skill in other areas will compensate, if that is even possible. Secondly, I want to be sure that the reader has this "preface" I am not a saint deserving of emulation. I have learned alot and try to compensate for my wrongs, this story might be hard to stick with what actually happened, like most histories. I am tempted to tell an edited version of more what ought to have been, but because I believe mistakes can be atoned for and I do actually see my choices as having been horrendously wrong, I will leave any lesson or correction up to you.
Let us start at the very basics, which I realized I had actually left out initially. My name is Melissa Dawn Babcock - Holden and I am currently 38 years old. I used to consider myself too old to matter at 30, but subsequently have figured out that I still have majority of my life yet to live. I am the mother of 5 children: Sarah Lena Brawner (10), Brooksie Lane Brawner (9), Charles Gavin Brawner (almost 8), Joseph Alexander Holden (3), and Mary Anne Holden (2). When I was visiting my Grandmother in Sandusky, MI, Where I was born, I found a journal on an coffee table and read it. It was an account of Elizabeth Gray - McGregor who became the mother of 14. At the age of 32 or 34 I cannot recall, but she had her 4th child and felt overwhelmed and too old for more. I giggle because as a child I told My mother and her mother that I intended to have 12 children and name them after the 12 tribes of Israel. Kids say the darndest things!
Now, I will start my episodes by telling the story, though I will lack my father's dramatic telling of it, of how my parents met and joined the church. My mother actually hated my dad, but their mothers were friends and my mom was accompanying her mother as she got her hair done at my father's house. My dad walked in and as he tells it he heard music and saw an aura of light around my mother. I read mom's journals though and she felt no such thing in return. He was an arogant, skinny, trumpet guy who was so full of himself though obviously talented. My dad hid behind a chair to hide his manure covered trowsers (Evidence of his evening chores). I can only imagine she smelled them, too, oh! wait, my mother has no sense of smell whatsoever.
He was in a grade higher than her. She was the cheerleading, foreign exchange student type, on every single page of the year book. My parents were not destined to ever cross paths, but wait how did I come about? Ok, they had debate and band together, which ended up enough in common. They started dating. My mother's parents disaproved, but then he left for college, in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and they broke up. But, a year without him, my mother realized that she actually loved him, so they got married.
Ok, but how did they end up Mormon? Isn't that a Utah religion for extremists? Well, dad recalled the mention of Mormons in grade school. Something about some crickets destroying crops and then a mass of Seagulls came and gobbled them up. But, the step that started the whole thing is my dad's time in basic training in Lousiana. He noticed these guys who worked harder than everyone else but then refused the usual reward of smoking. His curiosity got to him and he asked them what was up. They were returned missionaries for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It seemed very odd to him. He thought Mormons were a thing of fairytales in old school books. Imagine his suprise when magically, two more missionaries somehow showed up on his doorstep. He invited them in and explained that it was a fabulous coincidence he had just met some of the most amazing men who were also Mormons and It really challenged what he thought. He thought that all Mormons lived in Utah.
So, my parents were rock musicians in the 60's their life style was not really "Mormon" material. But, they were interested and my older brother was on the way, so they liked to think seriously about the meaning of life. When they took discussions to learn more of the Church's doctrine. They would quickly put all of the ash trays and empty bottles away when their Mormon guests visited. My mother abhors hypocrisy so after the missionaries left one time, she said that they needed to either make a comitment to life style change or tell the missionaries to go away. They considered things. Then, they told the missionaries to go away. I do not know what role things played into this choice, but I had heard that my mother's parents threatened to disown her if she associated with that cult. This is comming from well-read Bible scholars, too. My best childhood friend's mother was my grandmother's Methodist preacher, by the way. Being disowned could have been a significant consideration. Though the Bible tells that Christ did not come to unite families, but that we ought to cleave unto our spouse and in so doing we might actually loose family ties. This was significant to me when I got sealed* to my first husband but his family could not attend.
So, as the story goes the missionaries came back, and the rest is my parent's story. It is about how they struggled because they lost social standing. And their story creates a legacy as they were sealed in the temple and what it means to them and us. It gives us considerable peace of mind and strength to know that no matter what happens we will be together as a unit forever because of what they did. Also, how I was actually the first child born "under the covenant", as we say. Now, is the story of how I ended up In Utah.
I went out to eat with my husband at a Cracker Barrel in Lebanon, TN to celebrate something. We left our baby girls (Sarah Lena & Brooksie Lane) with his mother. I got very sick and excused myself to the rest room. After throwing up others in the restroom asked what I had. They said that they would avoid it. They really were wanting to blame my illness on the food. But, I was prone to throwing up for no apparent reason like I had one afternoon in my dad's car going to a temple to do ordinances for all of our ancestors. My father canceled things believing that I was sick and unwilling to admit it. Anyway. My husband (Brandall) and I went to pick up the girls and my mother-in-law suggested that I might be pregnant. But, I had just miscarried the second time only days earlier, so that was unlikely, I thought impossible. As time passed my health worsened dramatically, an U/S confirmed that I was infact pregnant though. I was given perscriptions for my maladies, but none worked. I just assumed it was due to the pregnancy, but I was having severe vertigo and my husband then refused to let me use the stairs and made a bed for me. The children were taken because I could not care for them. Even a glass of water caused me to vomit. So, I got too dehydrated and was taken to the hospital where I was given an IV and felt so much better that we actually went to a nearby Sonic so that I could do what I hadn't in a long time -- EAT.
My screaming about my vertigo was not improved by the drugs though. It was not an inner ear trouble after all, but a swelling brain. Laying down caused pressure which made me feel the same feeling you get on a rollercoaster at the first drop, so I was taken to the hospital again, and was given several MRIs. The doctors were cautious though because they did not want to do anything because they feared harming my unborn child. The doctors perscribed more drugs most of which I cannot recall the name of, though the ones given were antidepressants, which seemed unhelpful. They were more of something the big pharmaceutical companies paid kick backs to doctors for perscribing. My son was actually thus born with a hole in his heart (left ventricle) attributed to those drugs, it is an ongoing concern for him.
Ok, I spilled the beans that I had the boy and that he has survived fine, so you know the end of that story already, or do you? The local hospital felt ill-equipped to tend to my needs and so they sent me via ambulance headed to Nashville, TN to Vanderbilt Medical Center. This was mid-June, and I was due at the end of July. A nuerologist at the first hospital told my family that he thought my brain abnormalities were easily explained and perfectly normal, but the fact remained that I was getting worse and worse. I had another MRI where it was determined that I was developing lessions on my brain and that I definately had Encephilitis. So, the first step towards realizing that I infact had a legit problem was made.
I was in and out of actual awareness and out of fear that it could cause my unborn child harm, a c-section was needed. I do not remember anything real except for what I am told by others at this point. I have very odd memories that seem irrelevant. I was not getting better even after the child was "taken" like I said my memories of this time period are of no use and are totally incomprehensible to me anyway. So, I will skip over this part. Several teams of doctors were trying to figure out how to help me.
The team of Infectious disease doctors lead by Pinky Gaba, I am not sure of the spelling, decided that waiting to positively identify the pathogen might take longer than the time I had left, so I was given a PIC line which was later used to administer drugs at home, through a drip IV. This PIC line was a tube placed in my arm leading directly to my Aorta to allow swift internal administration of the drug. I was not keen on this proceedure, but saw how it was needed because I ripped out too many IV's and my arms were severely bruised leaving no more places to place a needle. The drug, amphotericin B was explained to me as being able to kill any and all infection in my body, there was a possible side effect that it would kill me, too though. But, that chance was marginal and unlikely due to my age and health. I must insert a plug for my beliefs. It was commented by several doctors how rare it was to find such a "perfect specimen" because I had taken such good care of myself. This was required by my church A.K.A the word of wisdom which forbids the use of drugs or Alchohol. Once again I see looking back how just doing the things asked and not needing to understand why is so important. I did have a severe reaction to this drug so it was decided that I take benadryll with it. I almost instantly recovered. And due to my healthy condition, I did survive without a needed Autopsy to determine the cause, which was needed in every previous similar case.
I believe that it was because the sheer volume of prayers in my behalf that I recovered so quickly. No one ever figured out how the infection was contracted anyway, but it was identified eventually as being Histoplasmosis: A fungus that is commonly seen in those who work with chickens though out Tenessee and Kentucky. It lived in my lungs with no obvious side-effects. Then, I became pregnant and it is supposed that my immune system shut down to protect the child and the infection became "displaced" as they call it. It found a new residence in my Central Nervous System effecting everything from balance, speech, sight, etc. It ended up I was paralyzed, by brain damage, on my entire left side, which happens commonly to stroke patients. It is called Hemi-paralisis. Quick plug again. I am so glad that I did what I was expected to opposed to what is common. I am alive today because of my obedience which resulted in such great health.
I was not yet out of the water. I remember being so kindly allowed to see my newborn son. I was wheeled to the place he was being kept, though I was forbidden to hold him. This is the point I can remember things well. I was given Physical therapy, Occupational therapy, and Speech therapy, because it was a concern that the apathy of being bed ridden for months would attribute to my inability to walk or talk. I learned to eat again though I had to be told what I did or did not like because my husband noted that I was eating things that I previously disliked. The doctors performed a brain biopsy to determine that my infection was actually gone and I had to give them permission to use my spinal fluid for research, too. I became part of some encephilitis study.
I was fitted for a wheel chair and walker and sent to my orginal hospital. I stayed there until August 10th. Then I got Home health care and occassional doctor visits and spinal taps, until it was determined that I was fine. This part doesn't make sense, but it is crucial. Brandall had to work full time and I was made to feel like such a burden, so my mother came to stay with me. I had a few accidents when she was not around, but my neighbors heard and came to my aide. My neighbor had small children the ages of my kids. She was my assigned Visiting Teacher, too and once I got enough strength I started walking with her. Her husband was my husband's long time best friend, too.
I felt bad being a burden and wanted to help so I tried to escape any way I could. I was always caught, and then felt horrible for even trying to run away. That would be another stress for my husband to deal with. I did lots of things, like say that I was going to just kill myself, and I told him that I overdosed on Tylenol. A doctor ran blood tests and told me that it appeared that I would be fine and that I was fortunate because it would be a terribly painful way to die. I went to the Emergency room and was sent to a Mood Disorder Hospital. I figured this would be a nice break for my husband. But, I was told by others that this hospital was actually more of a prison, I could never leave. I learned alot from my time there though. Most importantly, I was assigned a social worker and a lawyer because I was forced to be in this hospital against my wishes, and it was clear to others that I was sane.
I must say this here. I agree with the comments someone else made about how crazy people never think they are crazy. And so, the things that follow sound terrible, and they really were. I would like to blame everything on insanity, but though it seems insane to me now, at the time, my every action seemed sensible. Plus, when asked things like "Do you hear voices?" I knew the answers and figured everyone did. What sort of question was that anyway? It was like the question with a yes or no option that asks "Do all people lie?"
During my stay at the hospital, a social worker wanted to call Brandall in to discuss my sincere wish to have us all be home for Christmas. He agreed and so we decided though the kids had been staying at their grandmother's house they would be coming home with us after our little Christmas party. It was still decided that I was not allowed to hold the fragile baby though. Urrrgh! Sometime or another I gave him the name of Charles though my husband decided on Gavin, so we call him Gavin, but his legal name is Charles Gavin. My husband tried to divorce me, I did not want this, but he told me what to do. I trusted him, and I agreed and signed. Later a court decided that it was not properly done and must be thrown out. At this point we were seperated. I was living in Mississippi with my mother and still visiting doctors ocassionally to get spinal taps or other mental help. It was decided that I was depressed, though I doubted it, I went along because others assumed that depression would only be natural given the things I endured.
It seems like more time passed than actually did and I cannot actually pinpoint when things happened but I was living with my parents and we went to stay with my older brother to help out when his third child was born. I actually premeditated this wrong, and it really hurts me to admit it, but I got to know my mother's routine and figured that she had alot of money. It was money that would rescue my existance, or so I believed. It was this belief that persuaded me to try to get Government SSI Disability as I could no longer work, and I absolutely hated being a dependant. I stole my mother's credit card. The reason this is so terrible is because she is so loving and would have given her very life to help me, and how did I repay this kindness? By stealing from her and then lying about it. I was seeing a psychologist and he was trying to help me, too but even confidentially I would not admit to it and so I was given the title of Sociopath. Even my mother could not understand this behavior as it was entirely out of my character.
I do not know what really happened with that situation if I actually tried to buy something or just stole the card. I cannot remember anything but the guilt. Whether or not I did actually spend any money is not the issue. I decided, after making several lists that I needed to move out. So, I moved to Memphis, TN, and was trying to get employment. But, what I did is terrible. My prepaid cell phone needed more minutes so I decided to pay for unlimited nights and weekends. I did not have enough money though, so while my bestfriend's sister was at work (also my roomate) I found her credit card and though I had a voice telling me that it was wrong I ignored it, because I was obsessed with the idea that the only way to return to any salvagable life I needed to get remarried which required talking to guys on my cell phone.
Silly are the rationalizations that attempt to make our wrongs seem right. Though, at the time they do not seem like rationalizations, they are. No matter what we endure there are things that are right and wrong and we know what is right and wrong and must do them. I used to get mad at others for trying to take my choices away, but maybe that would have been the best solution. I will not deny that I did not like her sister. Several things that she did offended me which allowed me to feel justified for using her credit card. But, my friend discreetly called my mother and said that I was not ready to be on my own and told her what I had done and that I needed to go home. I returned home, but was still communicating to several guys that I had met online from using her computer.
This next time period is rather fateful, I met Nick, who is my husband now. He came to visit me, and I hated him and could not wait for him to leave, but for some reason, I continued to talk regularly to him on the phone. I do not know how we planned this scheme, but while my father was speaking at church, I dismissed myself to go to the bathroom and phoned Nick telling him that I was standing outside. He had flown to TN, and came and got me and we took off. Funny story is how I bumped into my Dad in Las Vegas on a lay-over, he was going to CA, Work related.
I moved to Utah, but I was not having much luck at finding a job, though I told Brandall an the kids that I was sure that I would and I lied to my parents so they would not worry, and told them that I was employed. At one point, after a job interview I went to lunch with Nick's father who asked me why I was still wearing my wedding ring. It was assumed that I was divorced and without children. I explained that I was only seperated though my husband wanted a divorce. I was living with a family, in Layton, with 6 kids though and all the while attending church with them and Nick always attended with us, her kids even asked if when I married Nick would I adopt them. lol. Kids are a bit like insane people, they think they know what they are saying/doing, but they do not have a clue.
Those kids were his charachter reference though. He claimed that kids liked him, and I was not able to think clearly, so I figured if the kids liked him, so would I. I trusted their inocent perception of him. I supposed my heart saw the same thing they did, though, mentally I disaprove.
Months passed and I still had no job and felt like I was entirely a nusaince, though the family would be horrified to know that I felt that way. Nick found an apartment for me, well, us. I didn't really agree with the idea, but again we can see looking back what I should have done, but I was just trying to survive and all attempts were failing, plus, I moved out here with the purpose of marrying him anyway. Again, I rationalized so many things that I know now are wrong, but convinced myself that living together was natural and acceptable. Looking back, that just seems insane, it may be acceptable to some but not me. I had started the process on getting a noncontested divorce, and well, you guess it. I got pregnant, so I told Nick as soon as I got word that my divorce was final that we needed to get married. So we did, and it seemed like that was the only reason I agreed to the divorce, because I read on a website how a woman ought to marry the father of her children especially if he is willing. So, I got divorced to get married, to survive and provide a good proper life for my unborn child. Again, I point out now, while I am ignorant of any effect, I was obedient to what was best although It was not what I wanted.
Joseph was born via c-section and had loving parents, and I fully believed that Nick would see his dad having to bless** the baby and decide that he needed to do the same. So, I was anxious to have another child assuming 9 months would be enough time to repent or do whatever he had to do. I underwent a severe ummm, depression, it was a sorrow for all I had done and I denied myself the sacrament and felt unworthy so I stopped attending church. It is this time when I realized how much I had that I gave up and really didn't know if it was worth what I gained. I missed my children, and even the dreaded Sunday's teaching my cute little CTR class or making a complete fool of myself trying to play the piano in Primary. I truly felt the sort of thing I had read about where you miss the things you thought you hated, and I learned that it is exactly the times that you feel the most unworthy that you need forgiveness most of all. I wanted to go back to church as my start, we were in a new ward and no one knew that Joseph was born too soon after we were married. It was alot like Jean Valjean starting a new life in a new town.
I was most glad, above all else, that people were interested in finding out about me. The details of who I had been or done just never came up. It seems evasive, but it was really a way that allowed change and forgivness to take place.
But the drama is still not over, remember that baby boy? Well, I missed him so much, as well as my other children to the point that no other happiness mattered to me. All I could think to do was pray. That is what I did. My ex husband got remarried to a Utah girl and moved out here with the children, so I got to spend every other weekend with them, and weeks in the summer. The children and I joked about the fact that I prayed them to Utah. Then fatefully, my ex husband announced that he was getting a divorce and moving back to TN. I watched the kids while he, oh yeah, he also lost his job, which he found through his new wife. He was job searching again, but still planned the alternative of just moving back home. So, I did not want him to cancel out all of my happiness again! I prayed, not asking for anything specific, just that I would not be seperated from my kids again. And he ended up staying!
Fast forward a few years, My ex husband has decided to move back to Tennessee again citing that the children needed to be with their grandmother. I agreed. And I struggled very long not knowing what to do, but finally I decided to stay because we need to cling to what we know, and I did know that even if it was not what I wanted, I was intended to be here, and it was no small price. Like the movie "17 Miracles" I do not want it to have been for nothing. After I decided to stay several things occurred to signify that I had chosen what was best though not what I wanted. It was good and noted. I really wanted all of my family to be together though. I still do. I was able to see a few things that suggest that eventually the kids will be back here, I only need to exercise patience and obey what I do not understand or even want, because things will work out and I will see that compared to the fate of choosing what I wanted RIGHT NOW! the reward of doing what God values most far out weighs. Just visualize a great big scale and remember that the thing you want Right Now can not even tip the scale of blessings for you if you choose what is best.
My own mother always describes things best so that I can understand and she said, "Well, you know, sometimes we do not see why or how things are working out until we look back."
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*a sealing is a ceremony performed in an LDS Temple where the power of God is used by certain individuals who are given the authority to seal things on earth in a way that they are still in force for all eternity.
**When a child is born, a worthy priesthood holder blesses the child giving it a name to be known on the church records. Mormons do not Baptize infants because it is not believed that they are accountable for their own choices yet.
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