Pregnancy Update

Today I had my 16-week doctor's appointment. It was such a relief. I don't think pregnancy will ever be the same after having a miscarriage. Those first weeks especially were so scary. I hate to say this, but getting a positive pregnancy test wasn't even exciting this time because I now know that a positive pregnancy test doesn't mean you get a baby. The reality of a miscarriage is too real now. I've also had really bad cramping my entire pregnancy (the doctor says everything is fine) which has made it even more difficult to relax. The weeks leading up to my first appointment were really difficult. It was actually a big step backwards, emotionally, to be pregnant again. It increased my anxiety and it was...every day was just scary because I didn't know. And because I had no indications last time that the baby had passed, I had no indication that things would be okay. I tried to bond to the baby and feel connected but I just couldn't.

However, there were some good things too. It was really healing to go into that first appointment and see a heartbeat. I was incredibly grateful. I will never take pregnancy and especially hearing a heartbeat for granted again. Ah, what a sweet sound that is! At this point I feel pretty relaxed about things. I feel peace. I'm so grateful for Heavenly Father for this opportunity.   

(14.5 weeks)

As far as the pregnancy goes, it's been much better than my pregnancy with Ainsley. At this point with her I had lost 15 pounds, was on multiple anti-vomiting medications, and had to get IVs several times- not to mention I was functioning at about 2% which basically just means existing and throwing up! This pregnancy has still been difficult. I hate most food most of the time (trust me, it sounds more appealing than it is). I am still on anti-vomiting medications and even still throw up several times a day most days. The nausea is constant. I don't sleep very well (despite the insane fatigue) and I'm already feeling the acid reflux and back pain. The headaches are intense. Basically, pregnancy is just hard work. 

Despite all of that, I can't adequately express my gratitude. It takes every ounce of me, but I'm still able to be a mother to Ainsley and keep up with my basic duties. This was one of my biggest fears before getting pregnant. I didn't want her to miss out on having a mom for 9+ months and turn our lives into complete chaos. I'm grateful I'm not as sick as I was when I was pregnant with Ainsley. Although I've had to lower my standards a lot for cleanliness and tidiness in my home, things are fine. I don't do much extra, but I'm able to do the bare minimum which is cause for celebration! I'm able to do what I need to AND grow a healthy baby. Life is good. 

Ainsley is going to be such a great big sister. Clint and I are ecstatic to see her in this new role. She is so naturally nurturing. She is so sweet to her dolls and loves to feed them, change their diapers, rock them, and lay them in their cribs. It melts me. She's also so concerned about others. Today at my doctor's appointment, they were taking my blood pressure and temperature. She didn't know what was going on, but she tried to comfort me. She held my hand and said, "It's okay Momma. Don't worry" over and over. She has a sensitive soul and I think that will serve her well in life. She genuinely loves everyone. She will randomly point to my belly and say, "It's a baby in da tummy!" I don't think she understands, but I think she's still excited! 

We are so excited to add to our family! Thank you for sharing our joy! 

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.  

__________________________________

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.

Toddlers, Tantrums, and Trying.

If you try your best to be the best parent you can be, you will have done all that a human being can do and all that God expects you to do.

A couple weeks ago I went with a friend and her baby (Ainsley's age) to the zoo.

Ainsley is little miss independent lately and if she's not allowed to do whatever she wants (which is usually just to run free and explore which often translates into destroying stuff or getting all up in people's bidness-she's really good at that), she throws a major tantrum. At the zoo she wanted to run and explore, of course, but I'm trying to teach her that she needs to be obedient and stay by me. My rules are that she needs to listen and stay close, hold my hand, or sit in the stroller. She was running away from me, almost getting run over by strollers and trampled by herds of first graders, and going behind the allowed line of the exhibits. She wouldn't hold my hand or stay close, so I had to strap her into the stroller. She flailed and fought me and screamed, but I eventually got her buckled into the stroller (thank goodness for 5-point harnesses...which she often still wiggles out of). She still hasn't stopped screaming bloody murder. A zoo keeper came up to me and asked me if I would leave until she could be quiet because she was upsetting the chimps. That happened. She was upsetting MONKIES. In a ZOO. My child is too crazy to be at a GOSH DARN ZOO.

I realize now that this is funny, maybe a story to discuss at family reunions; but at the time, it was anything but that. 

I have a million stories like this. Just last week she almost knocked a stack of sparkling champagne GLASS bottles onto the floor. I feel like I can't control my child and that makes me feel like a failure of a mom. Every outing lately involves several tantrums. I get so discouraged because I don't know how long it's going to take her to learn, and how much more of it I can handle! I am consistent and calm, the two things every article and experienced mother suggests, but I don't seem to be making any improvement. She is at a very frustrating age because she has very strong opinions, but doesn't understand much direction. I try. My heavens, do I try! But so far, it hasn't made a difference. 

Of course it's important to teach your kids correct behavior and to discipline them.

However, I think we sometimes forget that teaching them to be themselves and to cultivate their strengths is equally important. It might not be socially acceptable for Ainsley to tap on the people in the booth behind us and start talking to them (which is usually fine until you get a grumpy Gus), but I feel that that's a big part of her personality. I want to teach her that it's important to give other people space, but I don't want to take away the huge aspect of her personality that is that little outgoing, spit fire, social butterfly that I love so much!

Is it wrong for Ainsley to want to explore and be independent? Of course not! Those traits will serve her well later in life! I'm not meant to change her, just to teach her proper boundaries. It's harder said than done, but when we remember that our job isn't to change the core of our kids, it gives us a little more perspective. First and foremost, love them. Second, teach.

So much of the "acting out" kids do, is them exploring their world and learning what is acceptable and what isn't. Ainsley hasn't learned that it's okay for her to run and be crazy at the park, but not at the grocery store. She's been on earth for eighteen months for goodness sake! She's just starting out. Every second is a learning experience for her. Oh, I wonder what will happen when I throw this carton of eggs out of the cart.

I think we are also often harder on children than we are on other adults and especially ourselves. Sometimes we give adults more of a benefit of the doubt than we give to our own children. That mother at the grocery store cut us off on accident because she was overwhelmed and distracted but oh, my child threw a temper tantrum because they are a brat down to the core! Children are learning all about emotions. To them, a broken cracker really is a tragedy when they were expecting a whole cracker. They don't yet know constructive ways to express their emotions. It's our job to teach them, but I'm learning that this is a slowwww process. They feel angry, so they scream and hit. Heck, I want to do that when I'm angry! It takes a lot of self control and that's something that takes time for those little people to learn. It's important not to invalidate their feelings. If I told Clint I was upset because I went to make dinner and we were all out of an important ingredient, I wouldn't want him to tell me to get over it. That doesn't help either of us. Emotions aren't inappropriate, they just need to be expressed and handled appropriately. 

It's also so impossible to compare children. I'll admit, sometimes I feel like I have the worst behaved child. I will go out with other friends and their kids won't make a peep while Ainsley, in the mean time, is throwing her tenth tantrum and I'm trying my best to ignore her and not burst into tears. I was talking to a friend the other day who said she went home after a play date with us and told her husband she was worried that she was raising a bully! I didn't think a second of it because I was worried I was raising a defiant drama queen! Ainsley has never been a hitter, but my, does she throw a fantastical temper tantrum. Different kids struggle with different things at different times. Do some kids just come harder than others? Absolutely. I think so. But that's not a reflection on your capability as a mother or their worth as a child of God. This life is hard and you're only going to make things harder on yourself if you waste your time comparing.

(Although my kids is definitely better than yours at climbing up a stack of diapers while her mom's back is turned for 3 seconds. Just throwing it out there.)

I certainly have my work cut out for me with this one. 

She challenges me every day. No, every second. But I love her more than words can say. I take comfort in knowing that I can have Heavenly Father's guidance on how to raise this precious daughter of his. 

Do the best you can through these years, but whatever else you do, cherish that role that is so uniquely yours and for which heaven itself sends angels to watch over you and your little ones.

-Jeffry R Holland, Because she is a Mother 

(oh, you thought I was done quoting that talk? NEVER!)

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. 

When are you going to have another baby?

 It looks like ONE is the magical age when people start asking you when you're going to have another baby. It doesn't bother me when people ask, but I'm not ready yet. 

The first six months of Ainsley's life I was positive she would be my only child. Even in my pregnancy I would cry to Clint that I was NEVER going to do this again. 

Well, Ainsley came along. She is so much fun. I am head over heels in love with her. Seriously. I cannot rave enough about that girl.

Let me be clear that I really really really don't think there's anything wrong with having your kids close together. Seriously, more power to you! BUT, I don't think we should feel pressured to meet a certain timeline of when it's right to have more babies. 

I think we often fall into the trap of thinking when this or that happens, then I will be happy. 

I see this happen a lot with kids. Once my kids are in school...or once I have another baby or....whatever. 

Right now I'm focusing on learning to be happy now.

And I really am happy with where my life is at right now. I'm not rushing onto the next stage of life hoping it will be better than what I'm in right now.

The other day while I was playing with Ainsley I got the feeling someone was missing. I know there are other babies who will eventually join our family, and I am REALLY excited for when that comes...but for now, I'm just enjoying my days with my girl. We are best buddies. 

Love my little Ainsers.

One

Tomorrow is my sweet angel's last day of being a baby and I'm all kinds of emotional about it.

It doesn't help that I have zero family here to celebrate/mourn with. These are the times that distance is difficult.

 

The first six months of Ainsley's life were...horrible. I rather not rehash all those emotions, so you can look through old posts for that. In short, I feel like I missed out on the first half of her life. I feel guilty. I feel guilty I wasn't able to be the mom I wanted to be. I feel guilty that I didn't enjoy that time like I wish I had been physically, emotionally, and mentally able to.

 

Now that I am finally getting the hang of being a mother (not that I don't still have more bad days than I'd care to admit) and even loving being a mom, the baby stage is over. Just when I've gotten into the groove, we are switching tracks. I want to go back. I have just gotten used to having a baby, and all of a sudden I am about to have a toddler? I'm not ready for that ship to sail. Has no one invented a time machine yet?! Where's Doc when you need him!

 

However, I know growing up is inevitable.

Every new stage she has gone through has been my new favorite, and I have confidence this will continue.

I could never express my love for her or how incredible being a mother is. Some days I feel like a worthless, unimportant snot rag, but other days, I feel like I can move mountains. There are moments when I feel God's hand in my life, that I know raising children is a partnership with him. He knew Ainsley first, who better to teach me how to be her mother? I am so grateful to have the gospel of Jesus Christ in my life. It brings me more peace and clarity than any other knowledge could.

 

I guess the only choice I have is to soak up every single second I can. I wish I had the option to not blink any more so I wouldn't risk missing anything. I am really grateful I get to stay at home with her. I'm grateful to have such a supportive, loving, husband who believes I am an amazing mother.

 

I am more thankful thank I could express for my sweet, innocent, pure girl. I feel deep within myself that she is such a special soul and will do amazing things with her life. The responsibility to teach her and guide her to being the woman Heavenly Father has created her to be is something that I know will bring sleepless nights and many tears. But I love her. I love my Heavenly Father. And I love Him for trusting me with her. Motherhood is not for the faint of heart, but it is for anyone who wants to experience greater love, greater happiness, complete joy, and the hand of the Savior even more prominent in their lives.

Now excuse me while I go cry my eyes out. Someone stop time!



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.