My Famine

After Clint read my blog about my miscarriage story, he said he hadn't realized how mad at God I was. I was mad at Him. Really, really mad. I really think it's okay to be angry with God. I feel very strongly that emotions aren't bad and we are emotional beings for a reason! What's important is how we use our emotions. 

For example, it's okay to be upset with your spouse. Actually, you'd be an alien if you never had some degree of conflict in your marriage. But, when you turn to your spouse and work through the issue together, it brings you closer together.

In my opinion, the same is true with our relationship to Heavenly Father.

In both cases, anger can cause separation or greater closeness. What makes the difference is where (who) we turn to. I fully believe that you can be angry with God while keeping your trust and faith in Him. Through my frustrations and anger, I've turned toward my Heavenly Father and it has strengthened our relationship.

A few days ago, I was reading in Helaman 11 in my scriptures. Nephi, a righteous prophet, pleads with the Lord to replace their gory war with a famine. Heavenly Father shows mercy and agrees to Nephi's request. The people suffer through the famine, remember God, repent, and are eventually blessed with rain.

My bitterness has subsided in the last two weeks, but in the thick of it, I couldn't understand how Heavenly Father could have done this to me despite the fact that I was doing the right things! In my previous post, I wrote how I felt like I was being tricked. That Heavenly Father told me what to do, I obeyed, and He watched me fall. I couldn't understand why that would happen.

After reading of this story in the Book of Mormon, I have a different perspective. I feel that Heavenly Father replaced my war with a famine. This was my famine. Had I not been faithful, my trial would have been much worse. Having a miscarriage was my famine. There's no way of knowing but my war would have been, but I'm glad I don't have to know.

I feel like my words are falling flat, but this is a huge lesson for me to learn.

My prayers and fasting were not in vain. I was shown mercy.

I wonder how many other times in my life that I had been upset with God when He was really showing compassion on me. Doing the right things is never in vain.

Just like the people in Helaman 11 needed the famine to set them back on the right course, I think we  all need constant reminders. That's why life is so hard. Trials teach us humility. We come closer to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ when we can't do it on our own. In this situation, I couldn't do it on my own. Even through I wouldn't chose to go through this again, my testimony has been strengthened. Even though I don't know the alternatives, I'm grateful for the mercy that was shown to me. 

There's No Heartbeat.

I had a miscarriage a week ago. I saw an ultrasound with no heartbeat 11 days ago. It’s been an incredibly heart breaking time for me. First, I want to tell you why I’m writing this. I don’t need you to accept my feelings  for me to know that my grieving is valid. I’ve accepted that most people won’t understand what I’m going through and that’s okay. It doesn’t make it any less valid or less difficult. I don’t need pity.

Yes, I hope that sharing my story might help others (reading through the experiences of others has helped me), but ultimately this post is for myself. 

This post is symbolic. When all of this happened, I decided I would give myself a week to be as sad as I wanted. I wouldn’t fight the emotions; I would ride it out and let myself feel what I needed to. Now that my week is almost up, this post is like me stuffing all my ugly emotions into a hot air balloon and watching it float away. This post is intended to be a therapeutic way for me to let it all out, and then let it go. After the week is up, although I’m 100% positive I’ll still be very sad, I’m dedicated to being as proactive about the situation as possible. I will focus on what I can change and what I can do to better my situation. However, for now, I won’t apologize for being mad at God, because I am. It's okay- He can handle it. And I won’t apologize for being emotional or irrational, because I am. I won’t apologize for not putting a positive spin on things. I won’t pretend to be thankful for this trial, although that may come with time.

 I think letting out your negative emotions is good, constructive even, to the process of moving on. I think it’s the Jews who have a set period of mourning after a loved one dies where they don’t do much aside from mourn their loss. I think that’s constructive. And now that my period of grieving is almost over, here is my “hot air balloon” post where I let it all out and then, hopefully, let it all go.  

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Because of my difficult pregnancy, delivery, and postpartum period with Ainsley, I was unsure if I was willing to go through pregnancy again. For her first year of life, I was sure that IF we had more kids, they would be adopted. But Ainsley was so great that somehow I found myself possibly, maybe willing to go through it again. Around Ainsley’s first birthday, Clint and I started praying and fasting that IF we were to have more children, we would know when, and that the pregnancy would go well and be manageable for me. Right around when Ainsley was 18 months, Heavenly Father started making it obvious to me that it was time to start trying. Because of health issues going on at the time and because I hadn’t mustered up quite enough courage, it took us another two or three months to start trying. In that time, I did my best to prepare myself in all ways possible. I was more vigilant about scripture study and prayers, I researched birth, postpartum depression, stepped up my healthy eating and exercise habits, etc. I was dedicated to preventing the issues that I had with Ainsley. I was willing to do what it took.

How did I know it was time for another? I wondered how I would know, but Heavenly Father made it obvious to me because that’s what I needed. I needed to be sure. I would be playing with Ainsley and feel another presence- as if there was another child with us. I had also gotten to the point where I felt that I was able to keep up with chores and my to-do list and could handle another child. There are many other instances, but one of the most obvious and profound was when I was sitting in a Relief Society lesson about family history work. I’m not sure exactly what the teacher was talking about; I think he was talking about how the actions of our ancestors affect us. Heavenly Father said to me, “Even with all you went through with Ainsley, it is a small price to pay to bring potentially generations to the gospel.” That’s what it’s all about. The gospel of Christ. My effect as a righteous mother had the potential to impact generations. I knew it was time to start trying and we started soon after that experience.

The first month we started trying, I was positive I was pregnant. At two weeks I was falling asleep randomly throughout the day and was SO fatigued. It felt like my limbs were 100 pounds each! At three weeks, the nausea had begun. At four weeks, the vomiting began.

I knew very early that I was pregnant, but I was still excited to take a test to see those two pink lines! How exciting! I took a test on a Saturday- negative. I took a test the next day- negative. I took a test that Tuesday- positive! Ainsley hadn't woken up yet and Clint was in the shower. I took the test to Clint with heavy heart and tears in my eyes. I was so grateful. We prayed immediately to express our gratitude. The whole day I was on cloud 9. I couldn't believe I was being blessed with another baby! I was scared, of course, but I knew that heavenly father was blessing me and with His help I could get through another pregnancy.

The nausea and fatigue increased and I got sicker and sicker. It was difficult but I was still so grateful to be pregnant AND to be “manageably sick”. At this point with Ainsley I had already lost ten pounds, had to go to the hospital for fluids, and was on heavier anti-vomiting medication constantly. I thought I was being blessed for my faith and prayers and fasting. I had done the “right things” and now I was seeing the blessings. At least, that’s what I thought was happening.

At 7.5 weeks I had my first doctor’s appointment. The doctor kept asking how far along I was and when my last missed period was. I knew something was wrong. She said something like, “at 7.5 weeks there should definitely be a heartbeat and I’m not seeing one.” I was crushed. “There’s no heartbeat.” My baby had died and I didn’t even know it. I held back my tears while she explained what would come next- more tests. I knew there was something seriously wrong when she didn't even offer the ultrasound picture to us.

As she was leaving the room, I couldn’t hold it in anymore and started crying. She told me not to cry yet and that we still have things to figure out. I told her, “Last night I was crying over how badly I wanted Olive Garden breadsticks, of course I’m going to cry over this!” Hey, at least I have a sense of humor in adversity. Seriously though, hormones are no joke. Neither are Olive Garden bread sticks. I still want some.

Okay, put your serious pants back on.

Immediately following the appointment she sent me across the hall to get blood work done to check my hormone levels. There was another lady waiting there with a perfectly round belly and I became overwhelmingly jealous. I reminded myself that maybe she too had gone through this and was now being blessed with a baby. I hoped that someday I would be in her shoes. Seeing her both crushed me and gave me hope.

When they called me back for my blood draw I felt empty. I just stared straight ahead. I couldn’t make eye contact. I felt like I was in a nightmare. As the lady started drawing my blood I started crying. She looked at me awkwardly and asked in her thick accent if I needed some water. I tried to explain to her that it wasn’t the blood draw upsetting me but she didn’t understand so I gave up and just walked away.

The drive home I alternated between sobbing and being in that out-of-it nightmare-like state. Clint had scouts that night so I was alone for several hours after we got home. That night I couldn’t fall asleep. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t relax. I remember rubbing my belly and thinking that maybe if I loved it enough that its heart would start beating. Maybe I did something wrong. Maybe this is my fault. Even though I knew I was still relatively early in my pregnancy, I had spent the last two months daydreaming of this sweet baby. Actually, the daydreaming began even before I was pregnant! Halloween was especially exciting “knowing” that I would have another baby to dress up next year. I had a running list of baby names. I had dreams about the baby. I felt of its presence. In a way, I knew him/her! Above all, I loved him/her. Not to mention, I felt all the physical changes that come with pregnancy, especially the morning sickness. I was emotionally, mentally, and physically very invested in this child.

I woke up more exhausted than I was when I had gone to bed the previous night. I cried the entire next day. I didn’t know what to do with myself. The worst part was that I was still sick. Every time I threw up I grew more and more bitter, knowing that it was all in vain. This baby that wasn’t even alive was still in me making me sick. I found out that I had been pregnant a full two weeks past when the baby was alive and growing. I was so angry. I was angry that I was still sick. It felt like a prank. I thought that the timing of this pregnancy and the fact that I wasn’t AS SICK as I was with Ainsley were blessings and the result of my praying and fasting. What I thought was a blessing was a trial. I felt deceived. When I read about how my baby was growing arms and legs and moving around, it wasn’t. I was sick without a purpose. My sore breasts, my fatigue, dizziness, nausea, vomiting, heart burn, pelvic pain….it wasn’t for a purpose. It was because my body didn’t get the memo that I didn’t have a live baby in me anymore. It’s what’s called a “missed miscarriage.” I thought I was being blessed but had learned it was far from a blessing.

The next three days of waiting were torture. My heart was broken and we were at a stand-still. The waiting was the worst, and being sick magnified it. Every day felt like a week.

My "pregnancy sickness" was a constant reminder of what was happening. On the second day, my doctor called me and told me that my HCG levels were really high and we definitely should have seen a heartbeat with how far along I was. She wanted me to come in the next morning for an ultrasound to make sure nothing had changed. I was actually relieved to hear some news. It was progress. I still spent the majority of the day crying, but I knew at least part of my suffering would end soon. I was ready to be rid of the morning sickness, at least.

The next morning, we dropped Ainsley off with a friend and Clint and I headed to my ultrasound appointment. I remember feeling numb and staring off into space most of the time. The doctor came in and began the ultrasound. Almost immediately I knew the news. She was thorough, though, and looked for at least ten minutes. There was definitely only one baby in there and it definitely wasn’t alive. No movement, no heartbeat. Even though it wasn't a surprise, I was crushed. 

We began discussing my options. I could to a D and C surgery immediately, or I could go home and take some pills that would force my body to complete the miscarriage. Because they couldn’t put me under anesthesia in that short of time and I didn't want to wait until Monday, I opted to go the medication route. Being awake during a D and C sounded traumatic to me, although both options seemed pretty terrible.

We went to the pharmacy to pick up the medication. Covering the packing were tons of big, bold warnings about not handling the medication if pregnant. I was so mad that I was being forced to take this. I was angry that the medication to abort my baby was only $10! Why couldn’t my body have realized two weeks ago that the baby wasn’t alive? Why did I have to spend all that time being sick? And now, why did I have to go through what felt like a forced abortion? I was so angry that I was having to do what some people choose to do because they don’t want their babies. I was mad at my body for not recognizing and going through the process on its own. I was mad for more reasons than I can list. And I let myself be mad. 

We picked Ainsley up and went home. Clint headed off to work and I was left to care for Ainsley. I took the medication and almost immediately felt the cramps begin. The pain made me even more angry. I wasn’t supposed to be cramping. I was supposed to be growing a sweet little angel baby. When you see those two pink lines it’s almost like a promise. A promise that after all this pain and suffering and sickness, you will get a precious baby and it will all be worth it. I felt like I was lied to (Sue First Response!). Every contraction was a reminder to me of the baby that I would never get to hold. That sweet newborn scent that I would never smell. Yes, I was bitter and yes, I was grieving.

Ainsley watched a movie and ate snacks while the cramping was manageable. When it got too painful, I laid her down for a nap. They gave me Tylenol with codeine and I took that to try to manage the pain. It did not even come close. It felt just like labor, only with hardly any breaks between contractions. I laid on a heating pad, took the hottest bath I could stand, listened to hymns, prayed, cursed God, doubled over in pain, tried to watch movies, anything to try to cope. The pain was excruciating for about five hours. After the majority of the large tissue passed, the pain subsided but it was still difficult to manage. Thankfully, the pain medication made me sleepy and I was able to get some rest that night. I was so physically, emotionally, and mentally spent.

The next day was Saturday. I was still in a lot of pain but I needed to get out of the house. I had only left the house for doctor’s appointments all week and it was getting depressing. We drove up to Santa Cruz to see the butterflies. There were thousands and it was beautiful. I tried to focus on Clint and Ainsley, the family I have now, but couldn’t shake the feeling that we were missing someone- and that I was cheated out of that opportunity. We still had a great time, and it was great to get out of the house and have a good time with my family. I think I was even able to think about something other than my miscarriage for a few minutes at a time. However, the heartache was still overpowering.

It’s hard to explain the pain of a miscarriage. Of course there’s the physical pain, which is terrible. The emotional pain, though, is much more painful. Aside from the heartbreak of missing out on the potential of this child, there’s the guilt. Even though it’s completely out of my control, I feel like I failed in my purpose as a woman to bring children to the world. And even more, I’m so upset with myself for not knowing. I felt completely pregnant and had no idea that there was something wrong with my baby, especially for that long. Where was my mother's intuition? I didn't even know that it was possible to still be pregnant and feel pregnant without a live baby. And of course there’s also the heartbreak of the missed expectations.

The hardest part for me has been working through my anger with God. I felt like He told me so directly that it was time to have another baby. Given my health problems at the time and all the issues I had at every stage with Ainsley, getting pregnant again was a huge leap of faith. I felt like told me to jump and then watched me fall. I really do believe that everything we go through is for our good, but in this situation, I couldn’t feel of that truth. And I think it’ll take a lot of time to get there. Right now, I just cry until there are no tears left. Once they replenish, I cry some more.

The constant reminders don’t help either. The day after we found out there was no heartbeat, I pulled up oldnavy.com because I was planning to buy some maternity pants for a sale they were having. It was like a wave came crashing over me. I won’t need those any more. I kept forgetting that I wasn’t pregnant anymore, and then got rude reminders. Like when I went to add a new name to my running list of possible baby names. I ended up just turning it over and using it as a grocery list. I had also just taken my maternity clothes out of the garage the day before my appointment. I had to pack them right back up without even getting to use them. I have to make Christmas cards with no announcement. Of course the physical pain is a reminder. The baby swing in the garage I had bought a few weeks earlier at a consignment sale is a reminder. Everywhere I look, there are reminders. Reminders of what I prayed and fasted for and thought I was receiving, but was ultimately taken away from me. 

It's hard to explain how much love and concern you can have for someone you've never seen. To me, it wasn't just a cluster of cells. It was a baby- my baby. I loved that baby even before there were two pink lines on a little plastic stick. And I will continue to love him or her forever. I don’t know what happens to miscarriage babies. I don’t know if that was their shot on earth or if they get back in line and come later- maybe it’s different for every baby. No matter what happens to that baby and where he (I’m pretty sure) is now, I will love him forever. And it’ll hurt, but a mother’s heart can’t just stop loving. 

I Don't Know What I'm Doing

I'm typically more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of girl than a expert-advice-article-reading mama. 

However, Ainsley stumps me daily so I've been looking for some out-of-the-box, creative solutions for my out-of-the-box child. Let me tell you girlfriend, those articles are enough to make a girl crazy!

Time-ins are the way to go. Time outs will damage your child. 

Time outs are crucial for strong willed children.
Don't let your children know when their behavior make your sad
Showing your children their behavior makes you sad is critical.

Ignore tantrums. Don't reinforce the behavior.

Ignoring tantrums will make things worse. 

Spanking is a necessary part of discipline. 

Spank, and CPS will be showing up at your door. 

Distract your child during tantrums. 

Distracting your child is rewarding the unacceptable behavior.

For real. You can find all of the above AND MORE. 

All the screaming lately has made my emotions a little raw, and reading/hearing/getting advice from others that is so finite makes me feel like a failure at times. If this method is supposed to work, why isn't it working on my child? Is she a bad kid? (NO!) Am I failing? (I struggle with this one a little more) .

So after I've made myself crazy sifting through all of this "expert advice", I've decided that I think we are kidding ourselves. Let's be honest. We DON'T KNOW. Kids don't come with an owners manual with how to parent them specifically. And one method could be right for one kid while being completely wrong for another. There's no magic bullet. Why do these expert sources with extensive studies claim to be the fix-all? We don't have simple, across the board solutions. Sure, things like consistency and staying calm help, but as far as specifics, those are up in the air. And I'm not just talking about tantrums here.

You don't have to look far to see articles with titles like this:

Potty Train your child in three days. 
Stop tantrums for good. 
Never hear back-talk again. 
How I made my child love broccoli. 

These should really say:

Potty train your child in 3 days if they are ready and want to be and don't decide to be stubborn and throw tantrums every time "potty" is mentioned. 
How I stopped a tantrum one time and it might work again in the future.
This might help decrease back talk. If you're lucky.
My child likes broccoli now but it's probably a fluke. 

Where did the idea come from that we have complete control over our children?

Please don't interpret that I'm saying we should let our children run free like wild animals and color on the walls and scream in church and wear underwear on their heads and eat jelly beans all day. I just don't like feeling that people expect me to completely control my child's behavior.  Example: a couple months ago I heard two ladies gossiping about how I can't control my daughter. Well obviously! The point of this life is to make our choices. Christ's plan was for us to choose. I don't think Heavenly Father wants us to force our children into cookie-cutter robots. Again, I'm not saying that parenting isn't SO important because it IS, but I can't necessarily WILL my child to stop throwing a tantrum or to stop being social and waving and saying hi at everyone. Basically, if you see my child laying on the floor kicking and screaming, move along. I can't stop it, so we wait. and pray. and wait. and keep going. Letting go of the notion that I control my daughter's behavior lessens my stress and makes me a better mom. I realize now that it's not my job!

If we really knew what worked and how to control our kids, there would be one book. It would be plated with gold and cost a bazillion dollars. But there's not. Instead there are a bazillion books that you can pick up at the local Goodwill for fiddy cents.

We can help, but we can't make decisions for them. Some kids might always struggle with regulating emotions or sharing or learning things at the same rate as their peers or listening well. Whats the big deal? I'm sure you know adults with all of these flaws. I have lots! It's not because of what my mom did or didn't do. We need to help and teach our children, but internalizing their flaws and struggles as our own fault isn't helpful for anyone. The goal is to become like Christ, yes, but I think He cares more that we are progressing than where we are on the scale of perfectness.

Gosh, my thoughts are all over the place. If this blog post was a painting, it would be a Picasso, with less skill. Maybe more like one of Ainsley's paintings.

Let's get back on track.

I feel that God's expectations of us as mothers are actually pretty simple. He wants us to teach them to love Him. Also, he wants us to keep trying. I don't think we can fail in His eyes if we do those two things. Do what you can and don't worry about the rest. Don't let your inability to be perfect keep you from doing good enough!

Rely on Him. Rely on Him heavily. Rely on Him forever. And “press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope.”
source.

Serving God Through Motherhood

Maybe I'm just a little too feminist (whatever that word means these days), but being a stay-at-home mom often feels more like being a slave than feeling like a divine gift from our Heavenly Father. 

I'm constantly picking up after others, scrubbing toilets, making meals, cleaning up meals, grocery shopping, washing dishes, mopping....whatever maids do, I do it too. All day. And then some. The worst part is that it never ends. There's always more to do and there are always so many ways that I'm not doing enough. My child doesn't know enough, my house isn't clean enough or organized enough of pinteresty enough, I'm not patient enough, my house isn't cute enough, I'm not cute enough...(I could go on for days here, people!).

I feel like a broken record saying this again, but it's hard for me to feel important as a homemaker. 

A few weeks ago I was reading in my scriptures and stumbled onto this: 

 And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God. (Mosiah 2:17)

So, there you have it! By serving those in my home, I am serving my Heavenly Father! What could be more important than that? 

That stack of dishes doesn't look quite so bad anymore. 

It's ALL about PROGRESS!

It has been so long since I have blogged. 

As a result, I have so many thoughts taking up my brain, it's on the brink of explosion.

This post is likely to come out as emotional vomit. 

Enter at your own risk!

Yesterday I had a really hard day, for no particular reason. I think I'm still working through some of the effects of PPD, which makes me more sensitive. 

I realized that the reason I was feeling so down is because I was letting comparison creep in.

Comparison is the thief of joy. We all know that. We have all seen it on Pinterest. Still, it's so hard to avoid. It creeps in like smoke; leave one crack open, it finds its way in.

Turns out there are a lot of people in the world who have more kids than I do. Many of them are well-intending strangers. I know they mean absolutely nothing negative, but the remarks I receive make me sad sometimes. Ones like:

Just wait til you have to go to the store with four kids. (Ainsley is currently mastering the whole tantrums-in-the-grocery-store thing)

Just wait until you have to take care of two more kids when you're baby is sick.

Just wait until you have to clean up after two toddlers!

Just wait until you have to keep up school schedules.

Just wait til you have seven mouths to feed!

Comparing lives or workloads, regardless of number of children, will always be impossible. For one thing you see and understand, there are 100 more you don't. Every life is different, every kid is different. It will always be like comparing apples to outer space. Only more different.

It's a little comical, but I feel like sometimes what people are really saying is, just wait until your life gets even more miserable and then you'll want to come back to now when you were only a little miserable.

(For the record, I'm not miserable. You know, just interpreting from grumpy ladies at the library/grocery store/gym/etc.)

I realize they have a point. I'm not naive enough to think that somehow being a mother gets easier the more children you have. Please, that's just crazy talk. 

I only mean to say that it's discouraging to me. I tend to feel that if I am overwhelmed with one, there's no way I could be fit, worthy even, to be a mother of two or three or four or nine! It makes me feel as if my life has less of a purpose because I'm only responsible for one little human. I feel that our culture has an obsession with doing more, being more, never doing enough. Although Mormon doctrine preaches simplicity, Mormon culture (people aren't perfect, ya know.) is not always an exception to the never doing enough business. As if being a stay-at-home mom for one is less respectable than staying home with three.

I will be honest, I think this way too sometimes. I think that if I'm only going to have one or two children, I better get a fancy job to make my life mean something. As if anything could have more meaning than raising even one soul. Christ himself taught us the value of one. The parable of the coins. If you lose just one, would you not search the whole house to find it? 

Several weeks ago I was really struggling with feeling like my life was worth much. I had a long drive ahead of me and a sleeping baby in the back seat. I started to pray out loud to Heavenly Father. Asking for guidance, comfort, love....anything! The feeling I received in return was unmistakable. He told me that as much as I love Ainsley, as much purpose as I think her life has, my life has at least that much value to Him. I don't know if that makes sense to you, but it made sense to me. He knew how to make me understand. He knows how much I love Ainsley and how special I think she is. And He, our perfect Father, feels even more strongly about each of us. A lot of the things we spend time worrying about matter little in the long run. 

I recently purchased a whiteboard to keep on my fridge to organize meals, to-do lists, etc. 

At the top, I wrote in large letters, "It's ALL about PROGRESS!"

It gives me a lot of comfort. When I reflect back on my to-do list and realize I accomplished 3 of 26 things, I made progress. I made progress in raising my child, in helping her to be happy and healthy. I made progress in improving myself. I made progress. Some days more than others.

 I want to be a lot of things that quite frankly, I'm not; but I am making progress. 

It matters a lot more where we are going than where we are right now.

I don't know if I will ever be the person I want to be, but that's what life is all about. Progress. Just keep on keeping on!

The Burden of Motherhood

Sometimes us mothers get confused. 

It's not our fault. 

We're exhausted. 

Emotionally, physically, mentally spent. 

Sometimes it feels like our children are burdens. Let's be real. They make doing so many things so much harder. Grocery shopping, making dinner, reading, laundry, exercising, sleeping, you name it, it's almost guaranteed to be harder with children. And by almost I mean absolutely. I often find myself desiring to do a bajillion things...but oh wait. I have a kid. I can't. She just gets in the way. Makes life harder, right?

It's easy to feel like children are a burden. 

Recently, I've had some clarity on this subject. My little Ainsley makes everything I "have" to do a lot harder....but all those things pale in comparison of how important she is. Ainsley is my blessing, my priority.  She is my job. Thinking children are a burden is backwards. Everything that gets in the way of taking care of them, those are burdens.

So when we're trying to finish a chapter in our book and our baby decides to get into the toilet, our book is the burden to taking care of our baby, not the other way around. Are you picking up what I'm throwing down?

It's easy to see this with things that are optional, like reading a boo
k, but it's a lot harder to see with things that aren't really optional, like making dinner or grocery shopping. However, keeping in mind that Ainsley is always #1 on my to do list, helps me have more patience with her craziness and helps me have more patience with myself for only completing 13% of my to-do list!

This is what life is all about.

Celebrating the Small Victories

The hardest thing about being a stay at home mom, for me, is the lack of a sense of accomplishment.

 I really do love being a mom. And I’m 167% in love with Ainsley, but sometimes I feel like a hamster stuck in a wheel. Laundry, pick up toys, fix dinner, wipe boogies, pick up toys, wipe bums, read stories, dishes, dishes, dishes, pick up toys, bath time, sweep, re-roll the toilet paper, put all the dishes back in the cabinet, groceries, laundry, bath time, dishes, diaper duty, dead guy duty (okay so I threw that last one in…NachOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO). It is hard to see the difference our day to day efforts make in the lives of our kids and husband…the world even!

Today I had a proud moment and since they happen so rarely, it’s worth celebrating. I had picked Ainsley up after I taught a dance class and it was getting close to dinner time. We needed a few more things for dinner, so I took her to the farmer’s market. She went crazy. She wanted everything. Strawberries, tangerines, bell pepper, zucchini. She wanted the food so bad she even emptied a whole clamshell of strawberries onto the nasty floor before I could stop her. At first I was frustrated because I’m having such a hard time running errands with her lately… she’s a tiny, adorable, powerful hurricane…but then I realized how awesome it was that she wanted to eat all of those fruits and veggies! She knows what real food is and very, very rarely eats anything that comes in a package. I taught her that. This may be a small contribution I make to her health and her knowledge of food and her relationship with food that will last her through her life, but it’s a contribution. A small victory worth celebrating. Helping her to be just a little bit better.

As I was telling Clint about this experience, he reminded me of a few of the other victories I have had as a mother. One of the biggest things he has seen is Ainsley’s love of reading. I have taught Ainsley to love to read. I started reading to her before she could even hold her head up. Now, it’s her favorite thing to do. She brings me books to read her ALL the time. If it weren't so darn cute, it would be terribly inconvenient. I literally have every single one of her board books memorized. Yesterday she brought me a book while I was cooking dinner, so of course I had to stop what I was doing, plop onto the kitchen floor, and spend some quality time with Dr. Seuss. Today while I was using the restroom, she brought a book in to me. So we read it right then. I’m still laughing about her toddling to bring me a book a hundred times throughout the day. I feel like it’s an important thing to do for your kids. 

She also starting saying “thank you” whenever I hand her something. I've taught her some manners. Yay! Maybe that will counteract her constant “no!”s and scowling!

So, they’re small victories, but I’m changing my corner of the world one day at a time!

I think we’re quick to acknowledge our less-than-ideal moments

Like hey, I haven’t cooked dinner in a week.

My kid ate poop today.

I went outside without pants on.

My kid screamed so loud in Walmart, all the high classers over at Target could hear him.

I’m so sleep deprived, I forgot my address.

I haven't worn pants with a zipper for the entire month of February.

My child emptied a brand new box of cheerios into the heater vent.

I think we should share these moments too. I mean, come on, they’re hilarious. But I think it’s warranted to give ourselves credit every now and then too. Because seriously, you're amazing! 

I know I’ve shared the talk, “Because She is a Mother,” by Elder Holland a hundred times on here, but I love it and think of it so often. When I get discouraged I hear his powerful voice say to me, “You are doing terrifically well,” or “no one has failed who keeps trying.”

So, you go momma bear! You are doing terrifically well! 

Needs

Something I've always admired about my angelic little girl is her ability to innocently and without apology assert her needs. 

If she is hungry, tired, needs extra love or some alone time, she lets me know. 

I think this is something we gradually lose as we get older. I'm almost 24 and I have to consciously think about my needs and remind myself to take care of them. Some of my needs include girl time, time to myself, and quality time with my husband and baby. Sometimes we don't really think of them as needs because we don't die without them, but I feel like they're vital to our sanity and maintaining our sense of self. I will have a crazy day where I want to pull my hair out and drown my sorrows in chocolate... and then I have to step back and realize I'm not taking care of my needs. Also, sleep. That's a huge need for me. I've heard over and over in my life, "you need to take care of yourself before you can take care of others," often paired with the analogy of the masks in the airplane, and I've always brushed it off. I might be able to get dinner made and take care of my people when I'm running on empty, but I'm doing the bare minimum and I'm certainly not happy about it. When I take the time to take care of myself including physical needs and doing activities that recharge me, I'm much better able to take care of my family. I'm happier, and they're happier. The whole, "no body is happy if momma ain't happy" saying is so true. 

(this was after we got our marriage license. Man, I love that boy)

This is SO important in a marriage. Clint and I recently had a little "bump" in our relationship because we weren't communicating our needs. Clint needs time to go mountain biking, watch youtube videos, and learn about cars to fill his bucket. We all have different things that recharge us. Doing what you love is never wasted time. In marriage as well as in any relationship, I think it's so important to be open and honest with your needs. I think we apologize too much for them as well. I'm so guilty of this. I feel so horrible if I haven't made dinner when Clint comes home, especially if it was because I took some time for myself that day. It saves a lot of heartache to communicate. It really is the key to any real, lasting relationship. Plus, don't you want to meet the needs of your friends an family? You just need to know what they are. 

So, Hi. My name is Alexis. I need breaks. I need alone time. I need time to take care of my body. I need time to read, watch silly shows on Netflix, and paint my nails. I need to pursue hobbies and interests even if I only have time to do a tiny portion of what I want to. I have an intense need for creativity. I need interaction with others. I need to feel validated. I need to help others. I need to feel like I have a purpose. I need to ditch the dishes and read "Mr. Brown Can Moo" 50 times over. I need dates with my husband. I need to hold hands. I need to laugh and smile.

(Ainsley isn't so good at fulfilling my needs of snuggles)

When I fulfill my needs, I am a happier, much better person. And I'm not even sorry about it. BAM. 

PPD Update

Since I initially shared my experience with post-partum depression, I've received a few e-mails from those of you who are in the same boat. It means a lot to me that you feel comfortable sharing your story with me and that maybe I'm able to help a few people by being open with my experience. 

First, I want to say that most people seem to think you should be ashamed of having depression. It's not any less medical than diabetes or heart disease. Not that we have to paint it on our front doors, but I think we need to be more open about depression and other mental illnesses to get rid of that silly stigma.

This talk from Elder Holland is PHENOMENAL and a must watch if you have ever had depression, if you know someone with depression, or if you're a human. 

Find it here. 

Now that that's out of the way, I want to say that I'm doing so much better. 

When I think about spending my days worrying my baby would spontaneously stop breathing or that 20 people were trying to break in to my house at all times. So, yes. I'm much less paranoid now. I don't dream of running away. I don't feel overwhelmed the majority of the days any more. 

I am really enjoying being a mother. My bond and love for Ainsley has grown so much since she was born. 

I'm not necessarily out of the woods yet. My emotions seem to go up and down. Most days I'm fine but some days are really hard. 

If I had to give one piece of advice about PPD it would be to look for the warning signs. When I look back, I feel like a had some fairly minor depression before even getting pregnant. I feel like I could have saved myself a lot of heartache by taking care of myself early on. This means different things for different people. I feel recharged when I create things. Also, sleep. I have learned how important sleep is to my sanity.

Other things that have helped, Zoloft. I don't think there should be shame in accepting help through modern medicine. My husband has also been so supportive and helped me through everything. I think it has also helped now that Ainsley is older and more interactive, I don't feel as lonely. Above all, prayer.

Things are much better. I wrote another post on things that have helped me that you can find here. 

 I'm grateful for this experience. It has strengthened my marriage. It has taught me a lot about myself. It has reaffirmed to me the important things in life. It has strengthened my testimony. It has given me a greater compassion and empathy for others. It has been difficult, but it has also been a blessing. I'm a firm believer that Heavenly Father knows what he's doing. Even the hard things he puts in our lives are placed there to improve us and eventually bless us. 

The Myth of Being "Just a Mom"

(This post is all over the place so be warned that you're in for a bumpy ride!)

I've never wanted to be just a mom. 

I know a lot of people find the phrase, "just a mom," degrading.

I don't think it is...

because I don't think anyone is ever just a mom. 

I feel, with my whole heart, that being a mother is a big part of my divine destiny.

However, that's what it is.

A part.

We are created to be lots of things. While being a mother should be highly esteemed and upheld with honor, I want to be more (not at the sacrifice of being a mother!) and I don't that should be a bad thing. 

I think one of the biggest reasons I struggled with motherhood in the beginning (we're talking major identity crisis!) was because it felt like a life sentence to being just a mom. I thought I was leaving the person I was behind. That being a mom was all I was every going to do. Wipe butts and memorize the recipe for Mac n Cheese. 

I realize now that none of us are just moms (although if anyone was, I think that is just about the best thing you can just be).

We are all children of God. That's a big deal, and a role outside of being mom.

A lot of us our wives, and I must say...I love being a wife (I also love me some husband!).

A lot of us are sisters and children and friends and neighbors.

Some of us are doctors and teachers and lawyers and grocery store clerks and mail ladies and receptionists and students and nurses and writers and artists and fashionistas and everything else you can think of! 

I can't stress enough how important I think motherhood is...how much I love it...how much I know it's what I'm here to do...

BUT...

It's liberating to know I don't have to just be a mom.

I can also be a great wife....have I told you before how much I love this role?

I can be a Spanish speaker.

I can be a good neighbor

I can be a dancer and a writer and a photographer

I can be a cook...and not just because my family needs to eat but because I can enjoy it too!

I can still have friends and still spend time with them

I can be a student (I'm pretty sure I will be a life-long student. So much I want to learn!)

I can be a reader and not just children's books but I can read because I want to learn and be inspired and challenge myself. 

I can be a traveler.

I can be a listening ear to someone who needs it.

I can be a disciple of Christ and help the lost child find their dad or help the mom of three juggle her groceries.

I can be a nutritionist.

I can be an interior designer even if I'm limited to Goodwill the dollar section at Target

I can be a gardener and an artist and a kind stranger.

(I'm also good at shooting crap and getting toothpaste on my shirt)
 

I know that anything I accomplish outside of my home will be small in comparison to the mountains I can move by being a righteous mother, but I firmly believe that's not where our role as women...as people... ends. 

I don't think it's Heavenly Father's intention for us to isolate ourselves. What's important in life? The way I see it (1) your relationship with God and (2) PEOPLE. I can't remember where but I heard that the best way to share your beliefs (www.mormon.org) is to talk to as many people as possible. This isn't very natural for me. Especially in our time when Angry Birds has become a worthy substitution for human interaction. I remember the first time I rode the train to school in Phoenix, Arizona, I was shocked that people could sit right next to someone without even saying hello! I'm sad to admit that I became one of those people by the end of my college career... but I really do believe that people are the (second) most important thing in life and that's not limited to the bodies that sit at your kitchen table. Not to mention, how we treat others shows the degree of our conversion to Christ. Motherhood is quite possibly more of a reason to cultivate relationships with others...especially other moms! It's ironic that during a time when you're virtually never alone, it's really common to be lonely! I know from newborn to about five months was incredibly lonely for me. And Heaven knows we need support...and possibly (definitely) a distraction every now and then! Although less important than people, I think it's really important to show your kids as much of the world as you can. It's important for them to feel blades of grass on their toes, say hi to the grocery store clerk, and feel the sun on their skin as much as humanly possible. Trade a trip to the park for an episode of Sesame Street. Have a conversation with the mail man. Get to know your neighbors. Pursue an education. Start a business from home. Read books. Challenge yourself. Maybe change out of sweats every once in awhile...? I'm talking to myself there, obviously.

So, yes. I stay at home with Ainsley and I love that I'm able to do that and I love her more than words can say and I cherish my role as a mother, but I will never be just a mom.

And that's what I think about that.

On Moving

In case you haven't been around, we moved to a little town outside of San Jose, California. It was really sudden. We made the decision we were moving sometime around August 1st, then we were out of town until the 6th, then we moved on the TWENTY-THIRD. 

It's been insane. 

Almost as insane as my baby is cute.

Mostly, I was really excited about moving. I have been in such a rut, I wlecomed the chance to start over. I thought the move would be a fun adventure. I thought it would feel exciting. 

It has been exciting. And fun. But it's also been pretty lonely. 

I didn't really expect that. 

To be honest, I think I was under the misconception that moving would solve all my problems and somehow all the things I wanted to change about my life would be changed in an instant. I don't know why I thought that. Maybe a coping mechanism?

Somehow I'd magically lose the 18 extra pounds I've been killing myself to GETTHEHECKOFFOFME since Ainsley was born.

Suddenly I'd be the perfect homemaker, making beautiful meals from scratch and have a perfectly organized pantry. Maybe my movies would even be alphabetized. You know, just the important things in life.

Ainsley would start sleeping. 

My PPD would vanish.

I'd make tons of life-long friends that I instantly felt connected to. 

I would all of a sudden like working out. (HA. What was I thinking...)

I would have lots of energy. 

I would be the perfectly put together mom complete with make-up and combed hair (that rarely happens...especially together). 

Sleep would come easily and the bags under my eyes would disappear.

My attention span would last longer than the time it takes to say "C is for Cookie" three times fast. 

I would finally get around to all the stuff I wanted to do. (I know. Just a few posts ago I wrote about how you don't have to do it all now. Turns out I'm not perfect at taking my own advice. Go figure.)

(our neighborhood. Isn't it beautiful?)

Well....none of those things have happened. I'm working towards them, but the move wasn't a magical fix. Sometimes life is hard. My easy button is broken, goshdanggit.

But, there have been a lot of great things about the move. My husband is happy and loves his job. I know that I have enough money to pay for groceries. We have a very old, but perfect for our needs home. The weather is amazing here. Most people are nice, who cares if they're all over the age of 75? (no really). The move has strengthened our marriage. There are so many fun things to do here. Have I mentioned that it's beautiful?

Basically, if we had to move, this is about as good as it can get. 

Someone gave me some really good advice recently. He told me to envision what you want your life to be, and then make it happen. It's not happening all at once, but I'm working towards my goals. I've really tried to be proactive about meeting people. I've been going to events in the area. I've tried to talk to new people (Totally out of my comfort zone). I'm really trying to be organized and change out of sweat pants every once in awhile. (points for me!)

I don't know why I'm writing this. Maybe just to say moving is hard? Still, I'm really grateful for the opportunity. Mostly, I'm grateful to have my two best friends by my side no matter what. Man, I love those people. I feel so blessed.

Motherhood Matters

Something I've struggled with since I've crossed the line into motherhood is feeling like what I'm doing matters. A big part of my day is pretty monotonous. 

Diapers. Dishes. Laundry. Cooking. Cleaning. Grocery shopping. Baths. More Laundry. More Dishes. 

Lather, rinse, repeat. 

A hundred times over. 

In a week. 

I struggle with the repetition. 

And the feeling that my work is never done. 

Trying to keep a house clean with a baby is a whole new ball game. 

Also, taking care of a 17 pound human is actually hard work. 

Go figure. 

The thing about having a baby is that they can't tell you how they feel. While I love being around Ainsley, sometimes I feel it doesn't make a difference to her who changes her diapers or plays with her. To keep the house clean, I could just as easily work full time and hire a house cleaning service (although I still would love to hire someone!). See, I'm easily replaced, right?

Ainsley came into our lives sooner than we were planning. If it was up to me, I would probably be working 50+ hours a week finishing my dietetic internship and accomplishing great things, by the world's standards.

I care about God's standards. 

Then I read this talk from Elder Scott, a general authority in my church. 

Regardless of religous affilition, it's inspiring. 

The fact that Ainsley came into our lives when she did gives me the impression that Heavenly Father thinks that being a mom to Ainsley right now is more important than anything else I could be doing with my life. That thought brings tears to my eyes. 

After reading this talk, I felt like my job is important. Heavenly Father approves of how I spend my days even if I feel like I accomplished nothing at the end of the day. What I do largely can make or break a peaceful environment for my family to preside in. While it's not necessarily important to have an immaculate home, it's important that I keep our home from being chaotic. It's important that Ainsley has her mom home to shower her with a million kisses. I absolutely think nothing less of working moms. I mean to say that I'm grateful for my opportunity to spend my days with my little Ainsley pot. 

It doesn't just matter for her, it matters for me. I believe that God gives you the experiences you need to be molded into what He wants you to become. I know that the struggles I've been going through are only to better me in the end and I will eventually be grateful for them. I'm grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who knows me and knows what I need.

I guess my thought today is a simple one. 

Being a mother matters. 

Ch-Ch-Chaaaanges...in marriage

I had heard having a baby changes your marriage. 

Maybe I didn't hear it enough, maybe I didn't believe it, or maybe nothing would have prepared me for the changes!

Ah, another change having a baby brings. 

In some ways, the timing of Ainsley's birth was great, but in a lot of ways it was tough. She was born on the 4th day of school of Clint's last semester before graduation! He was only able to take a day off of school to help me after she was born. 

Taking care of a newborn (me) is a more than full time job and so is taking a full load of engineering courses and working (him). We kicked into survival mode and Clint did what he needed to, and I did what I needed to. 

The early days were really tough with Ainsley. She was a tough baby. My days became an endless blur of painful nursing sessions, dirty diapers, laundry, minimal sleep, and lots of crying, mostly from her. 

Clint's days were full of schoolschoolschool!! And a little working. The poor guy was insanely stressed and busy. I don't know if he went to bed before 2am the whole semester!

To say the least, we were divided. We lost our team we had spent the two previous years building. Instead of Clint and I, it was now Clint and School or Me and Ainsley. 

I honestly thought the partnership between my husband and I had ended. 

I felt my marriage full of love, respect, and adoration was over. 

Now I was a mother, and that was all I was going to be. 

Because we weren't receiving the love from each other we desired, we both began to resent each other a wee bit.

The PPD was intense. I was feeling worthless, ugly, not worthy of love. My life felt meaningless. This doesn't leave a lot of energy for doing things like writing love notes to my husband.

Clint and I have always had an incredible marriage. Really, I think it's exceptionally good. I was heartbroken that by doing what we were supposed to and having a baby, our marriage was so damaged. Making each other happy had always come natural, but now we had to work for it. 

I'm not sure how old Ainsley was, but I know it was more than two months, when Clint and I finally had a talk. You know, I think it was the first time since she was born that we had a real, heartfelt talk. We talked for hours, tears were sheds, needs addressed. It was the best thing we could have done for our marriage. I was unaware Clint felt abandoned and he didn't know I was feeling the same. We told each other how we felt, what we needed from each other, etc. We have had to have many follow-up talks since. We've tried to make going on dates occasionally a priority. We came up with a plan of when and how we would make time for each other. We put more effort into showing one another our love. 

It's getting better. A lot better. It's almost back to normal. It has taken work but it is so worth it. I'm a huge fan of marriage and I really believe just about any issue can be talked through. I'm really grateful to have such a kind husband and sweet baby. It has been a hard time in my life, but they truly make my life better. 

Marci Dawn Photography: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Marci-Dawn-Photography/351726558190568

p.s. I had Clint read this before I posted it. I intend to be honest but never to incriminate my husband. He is 100% supportive of this blog. He really is an incredible husband. 

Being Me AND a Mother

First, thank you to everyone who has shown me kindness regarding my previous post on post partum depression. It really helped me a lot to share it. I don't feel as alone any more. Knowing other people who have gone through it or are going through it had already been a blessing to me. I'm surprised with how many people responded with similar feelings.  

If you contacted me, I haven't gotten around to responding yet. I wrote the post and then decided to leave it all behind when I went on vacation. It was freeing for me. Thank you for being kind to me.

_______________________________________________

If there's one thing I've (started) learning as a mother it's that taking time for yourself is essential. 

For every one involved. 

If momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy- canigetanamen?!

A few weeks ago....maybe it was over a month ago...maybe it was months ago....the days fall together....any way, it was a hard day. For some reason Ainsley was not sleeping. I had gotten maybe two hours of sleep and I was physically and emotionally not prepared to take on the day. So, I loaded Ainsley up in her PJs and took myself to chick-fil-a. Sure, it helped that I didn't have to fix lunch and that Ainsley slept in the car, but I also felt recharged that for once I did what I wanted and wasn't a slave to her naps, feedings, diaper changes, etc.

Does that make any sense? 

I know we've all heard someone say something like, "she was the best mother, always putting others before herself." I think this is a nobel trait a lot of mothers have. Putting others before yourself comes with the territory of being a mom. However, sometimes I think we get the impression that putting others before ourselves means that we should never do anything for ourselves.  

Because of this, I think a lot of mothers lose themselves. It's a tricky balance, but it's really important to find ways to be you while being a mother. At least, that's what I'm learning to be true for myself. I know some people find so much happiness and purpose the moment they become a mother. I really think that's great, but it hasn't gone like that for me and that's okay! It can take a lot of effort. 

Clint and I had a good talk about this last night. He came home to his wife as a puddle on the floor. I sobbed  in the middle of the living room for over an hour (mostly) about how I didn't know how to be myself anymore. Sometimes I feel like when I became a mom I switched from being Alexis to being Ainsley's mom. I don't remember how he said it, but Clint told me that it's more important for him to have me than a perfectly cleaned house. I think part of the reason I've had a hard time embracing motherhood is that I feel so inadequate. He told me I don't have to be perfect at something to be good at it. He's a smart one, that Clint. He thinks I'm a good mother. He has never doubted my love for Ainsley. He loves me. That counts for a lot.  

Back to learning to be ourselves. Sometimes, being me means skipping the laundry and making something or spending time outside or even writing a ridiculous blog post! I don't feel like it's selfish to do things for ourselves either. In fact, I think we owe it to our families. I don't think Ainsley would want me to leave behind everything I was to be her mother. I think she deserves a mom who has goals, hobbies, wants, and experiences. Furthermore, I think Clint deserves the woman he married.  I had never thought that me "losing myself" has effected Clint too. He married me because he loves me. He didn't marry me to change me into what he wanted. I'm already wanted. I think a lot of happiness lies in learning to be content with yourself with where you're at. That was a bit of a tangent from the whole finding yourself theme...but still important. 

I haven't quite figured out how to be myself and a mother at the same time. 

Not at all. 

But I'm learning what's important. 

I'm dedicated to figuring out how to embrace motherhood while not leaving behind the person I've been for 23 years.