Part 1 (2/2)

Lots of families with kids have stories about how all the kids got sick at once. As a nurse, that part isn't hard. I'm used to taking care of multiple patients at the same time. For me, the hardest part is trying to get each and every child to the doctor's office when (and only when) they need to be seen.

In December 2006, five of the six had been coughing for nearly a week. I'm not the kind of mom who runs her child to the doctor for every little sniffle, but their coughs had gone on for a long time and I was particularly worried about Leah. When I put her into her high chair one day, I thought I heard her wheezing. I decided to listen to her chest with my stethoscope, and when I did, I heard crackling and more wheezing.

I called the doctor's office and asked if Leah could be seen that day.

”Well, we don't really have any appointments available today.”

”Can you just fit me in between appointments?”

”We don't usually do it that way.”

Big sister Mady lovingly helping Leah with her breathing treatment ”I know,” I said, ”but I'm a nurse and I've listened to her chest and it doesn't sound good. I think she should be seen by a doctor. I'll take whatever you've got; I just need my child to get in today.” Finally, the a.s.sistant gave me an appointment and I hung up. Now I had to find a babysitter to stay with the rest of the kids.

Most moms know how hard it is to be seen by a doctor at the last minute. Imagine trying to coordinate the one appointment available in your physician's schedule with the schedule of a babysitter to watch your other seven kids. Taking them with me wasn't an option. I called everyone I could think of and no one was available. As it grew closer to the appointment time I only had one option left-call Jon home from work early. I hated to do that unless it was a real emergency.

Jon came home to stay with the kids, and I was a little late for the appointment, but I was so glad I followed my instinct. My tiny girl had pneumonia! Poor Leah! I was right to insist that she be seen. Had I waited a day, who knows how sick she might have become? The doctor had me start her on a nebulizer, and she prescribed an antibiotic-Zithromax.

I picked up the prescription on the way home and gave her the first dose shortly after we got back. Unfortunately, my poor baby threw up fifteen minutes later. She was hysterical. I was afraid she had thrown up the medicine and I wasn't sure whether or not to give her another dose. She needed to be on it, but I didn't want her to overdose, and it was too late to call the pediatrician by then. Day one of the illness was anything but smooth.

The next morning Aaden seemed to be doing worse so I listened to his lungs. They also sounded crackly. I called the pediatrician, but before they would put me through to the nurse, the front office staff wanted to know what I needed.

”Well, now Aaden's lungs sound crackly...Yes, I had Leah in there yesterday and her lungs sounded the same way...She has pneumonia. So I was wondering if the doctor could call in a prescription of Zithromax for Aaden too? Okay, I'll talk to the nurse...”

When the nurse called back, I repeated all of the information and answered her questions too. But then the conversation got weird.

”The doctor would never do something like that!” she said suddenly.

”Like what?” I asked.

”Call in a prescription for a patient she hasn't seen.”

To get my kids the medical care they needed, I had to work hard to convince the office staff that when one of my kids got sick, the others did too. Finding a last-minute babysitter for seven so I could take one sick child to the pediatrician was part of my job as a mom of eight little kids. And repeatedly calling the doctor for appointments, prescriptions, and refills had to be done no matter how much I annoyed the office staff.

I was quickly learning that we weren't normal by the world's standards, but I also found out that with enough persistence, we could make things work. In the end, Aaden was seen by the pediatrician and was also treated for pneumonia. I've learned to always trust my mommy instincts.

If I learned anything during our time in Elizabethtown, it was that our dreams of ”normal” as defined by an average-sized family weren't possible. Our logistics and our way of doing things was never normal and never would be, but we learned to stop comparing ourselves to other families, and we redefined what normal meant to us.

Normal for us meant, in part, having mounds of trash and weeks of illness; but it also meant having large group fun we could never have had with a smaller family, like team sports and playing school.

Another difference in our family was that we put extra effort into giving the kids special, individual opportunities. We knew they didn't get much time alone, so being intentional about allowing them s.p.a.ce and attention was more important for us than for other families.

Redefining normal helped us to accept that things for us would be different, and whether it was good or bad depended on what we made of each situation.

I think every family needs to understand what makes their household work-even if it doesn't function quite like other families. During our time in that house, we learned to make a new kind of ordinary, a Gosselin normal that worked for Jon and me and for our kids. We learned we could feel like a regular family when we went out and made it home safely without any major logistical issues. (When that happened Jon and I would high-five each other because we felt so, well, normal.) We stopped comparing ourselves to other families and set about making our own path in the world. People still stared at us and counted us when we went out. Our safety and health issues were still magnified times eight. We still ate more boxes of cereal and more eggs at breakfast than other families did. But we began to see all of that as our normal.

Learning to redefine our expectations was a huge blessing because it was during those years that our show really took off. By the time we left Elizabethtown, we would once again have to redefine a new normal, one that included even more stares and pointing, as well as lights, cameras, and a whole lot of action.

Letter to Cara Dear Cara, I waited my whole life to be your mommy. You are what I dreamed of when I thought of being a mother. Although I knew I'd love you a lot, I had no idea the depth of my love for you...until you were in my arms!

My love for you is a lot more than hugs and kisses, snuggles and cuddles-although those things are extremely important and irreplaceable. However, the things you don't notice so much-the decisions I make that affect your life now and in the future, the ways I keep you safe and protect you, the life skills I teach you-these things also greatly impact and make up a mommy's love.

My first few years as a mommy, taking care of you and Mady, were absolutely some of the best years of my life. At times, being a mom was the most difficult task I had ever embarked on; however, I was always aware of the blessing that you and Mady were to me. I felt honored and privileged to be your mommy. Two gifts given to me, when I felt undeserving of even one!

I never said it out loud, but when I was pregnant with you, I deeply hoped and prayed for two baby girls. And on that day in May 2000 when I had my ultrasound, I found out my dream of ”two pinks” had come true! I hurried home and began preparing your pink and purple pastel nursery. And of course I couldn't resist buying any and every pink and purple coordinating outfit available.

My feelings of maternal bliss soared, and I spent every moment imagining what it would be like to be a mommy. Even though my pregnancy was difficult-I was sick most of the time-I kept myself focused on the delivery day when I would see your precious little face for the first time.

On your birthday, October 8, 2000, when I went into labor and Daddy took me to the hospital, I was very excited but very afraid. Just as you were about to be born, I thought to myself, ”There are two of us and very soon we will be three!” (Adding Mady six minutes later made us four!) When I saw your little face for the first time, I cried at the miracle of birth. I was officially a mommy-your mommy! I brought you home and didn't know who you were. I learned quickly that you were gentle, kind, and sweet. You were a patient baby and child.

In the first few days, I noticed a little red mark on the left side of the bridge of your little nose. Every day it became more distinct and apparent. Finally, I realized it was a birthmark, and later our pediatrician confirmed that it was a hemangioma. I felt sure I had caused the birthmark and was very upset (which was the very beginning of my now infamous mommy guilt). To me, you were perfect, birthmark and all. You were a beautiful little girl who was perfectly healthy-and for that I was grateful!

One day, when you were about three, you were playing outside in the driveway and a little girl walking by with her grandfather stopped to play. She asked about your hemangioma on the side of your nose, and Mady stepped in with the details as to why you had the ”strawberry.” She said an angel with red lipstick kissed you before you left heaven. That's what I had told you when you asked about it.

You were a sweet and quiet little girl. You often said ”Mm hmm” when asked a question, and you smiled like a little angel. You usually let Mady do the talking for you, and she did a wonderful job. You have been a joy to raise, and you have taught me that my love as a mommy is endless.

Over the years, as you have grown into a bright and beautiful young lady, I have watched you change, but I have never lost sight of my goals as your mommy. My choices and decisions then and now have remained constant: I want the best out of life for you. My children are my most precious belongings, and I take seriously the responsibility G.o.d gave me when he entrusted you to me. Although our family life has changed a lot over the years, my love for you will never change. I will always love you the same-and more-than I did the first time my arms wrapped around you.

I have appreciated the help you have given me-especially over the last year as I have had to care for you and your brothers and sisters more and more as a single parent. I am amazed at your ability to know that I need your help more and at your cheerful willingness to give of yourself. Serving dinner plates, emptying the dishwasher, and overseeing cleanup are just a few examples of this help. Everyone pitching in, I believe, is the foundation of our bond as a family. You make me so proud!

I am an open book to you, Cara. I have done and will do my very best to guide you and help you navigate the sometimes tricky paths in life. I will help you by sharing my personal life experiences. Life is always difficult, but it is how you choose to perceive it and handle the difficulties that matters most. Never compromise what you firmly believe in. Resist the urge to take the easy road. The difficult road-the one of honor, perseverance, and honesty-is most rewarding.

My prayer for you is that you will develop a deep love for G.o.d. I pray that firm convictions will define you, and that you will always take an uncompromising stand for what you believe. I dream for you a happy and fulfilling life, career, and family. I'll be there, Cara, in whatever capacity is most helpful to you.

Love forever and always, no matter what, Mommy

2.

SCHEDULING TODDLERS.

As far as s.p.a.ce goes, the move to our Elizabethtown house was long overdue. For quite some time we had been bursting at the seams in our Dauphin Avenue house, so this move was not only logistically and financially smart (Jon's commute would decrease from ninety minutes to twenty minutes), it was going to give us the s.p.a.ce we needed in order to breathe easier.

Once in our new house, however, we took note of the many pitfalls and dangers the house contained. One example was the huge flight of stairs that led to the kids' rooms. After I visualized trying to catch six toddlers tumbling down the stairs at once, we realized that our first task in this new house was to teach the little kids how to safely go up and down the stairs. So we began what we called stair lessons. ”First, sit on your heinies,” I said, demonstrating, ”with your feet out in front like this. Then keep your hands next to you and slowly slide down one step at a time.”

Even though this seemed like the safest method, I was still afraid of a domino effect. If one kid tripped or slipped on the stairs, he could literally take out everybody else. So during the lessons, I would stand halfway in the middle of the stairs, filled with fear that this could be really bad, and do my best to guide all six of them, twenty-two-month-olds sitting on their cushy diapers and b.u.mping down the steps.

Aaden, Alexis, Joel, and Collin climbing the stairs. We climbed up and ”b.u.mped” down.

Navigating steps was at the top of the list of things to do, but organizing the bas.e.m.e.nt playroom was important too. Cleanup, as every parent knows, is extremely frustrating. Everybody makes the mess, n.o.body owns the mess, and n.o.body wants to clean up the mess. Every single day. Two or three times a day. And with my myriad of children, I wanted to make cleanup as easy as possible. Even though the little kids were only two, I knew they could help with this task.

<script>