First Day Away!

Off . . . off . . . and away!!!!

Tonight is the first night that I will be away from my son. He's three months old tomorrow. AHHH! How this came about: This last week has been really hard for me. Michael use to sleep almost completely through the night until about two months. He hit a growth spurt and decided he needed to eat twice a night. Well, the problem with that was he got use to getting up twice a night, so I've had to put him back to sleep around 2 am every night since then. But this last week has been horrible. He didn't want to sleep, would wake up around 11, cry and fuss, wake up again around 2, then at 3:30, then at 5 some night. He was just generally not sleeping well and because he wasn't, neither was I. Even when I did get to sleep, I didn't get into a good REM cycle. By Friday night (tonight) I was going totally crazy. Really having a hard time dealing with anything. Everything that hit me felt like it was a thousand times worst then it normally would. So, when Weston came home and saw me, he said, not insisted, that I take a break. More then going out for the night. But going out for the WHOLE night. As in over night. He's standing in the bathroom, ordering me to start packing an overnight bag.

My first reaction to this notion, was NO WAY! My son isn't even quiet three months (okay one day puts it as practically) and I'm supposed to leave him alone all night? What the what?

But after taking a nap I woke up feeling like it was actually a good idea. I started to pack a bag. However, it took me almost an entire hour to pack. For one person. For one night. An hour. I think I was stalling, do you? Before I left, I HAD to nurse Michael, change his diaper and get him into his PJ's. It was so hard for me to leave his side. He is so cute! His vocalizing has gotten amazing, his full range of vocals and he was cooing away when it was time for me to leave. I mean, how do you leave the cutest's baby in the world?

But I finally made it. I'm now alone, sitting in front of a computer without a son or husband to think about.

Strange. Very, very strange.

To much, to fast

In life we have a few very basic things that we worry about. Food, shelter, money. These things come almost structured in our DNA to be worried about. But as I've gotten older, I've learned that there are many other things that we are now forced to pay attention to. 200 years ago no one asked the question, 'what do you want to be when you grow up?' Most people just did what their family did. Farmers, merchants, bankers, ect . . . While I admit that doesn't sound like the greatest of lives, it was simple. People didn't have the time or energy to worry like we do now. They went about their days focused on survival.

But NOW?

Now we worry about so many things, it ridiculous. The freedom of choice and the brilliance of technology have changed the way we live, and in so doing created . . . complications. Now when I wake up in the morning I have a hundred choices to make before breakfast. Do I feed the baby first thing, or should I wait until he gets fussy? Do I work out now or later? Should I check my facebook page now? Do I post something on blogger now? Should I look at my favorite news website first thing or in the afternoon? Should I watch a show while I eat breakfast, or read a book? These questions did exist a few centuries ago. But here they are, staring us in the face, forcing us to answer them.

For me, the questions that plague me are ones that are constant. What should I do with my life? Where do I go? Should I write today or practice music? Should I work-out? Should I go work for my father today or wait until tomorrow? There are so many things that are on my mind at the same time, it's a wonder I get anything done! Because with so many things that I am interested in and enjoy, I feel like I can only worry about one at a time. Example, right now I am focused on getting back into shape and working out. Because of this, it is hard for me to focus on anything else. So much of my brain is devoted to that one task, that I find it hard to focus long enough to write for NaNoWriMo, or to practice my music pieces. But the reverse it true as well. If I am focused on practicing music, there is little else that I find myself doing.

So this is my conclusion. We need to go back to a time when life was much more simple. At least, it would be nice to not have to worry about so much every day.

Don't you think?

Life Has Changed

              My life changed in the blink of an eye on August 17th of this year. Everything that I thought I wanted, everything that I expected that I wanted changed at 7:21 am. I didn't realize it at first. It was a gradual change, one that snuck up on me with little to no warning. One day I just realized that the things I had wanted before in my life were now changed. And I have struggled with this changed like no change in my life. Suddenly things that were VERY important to me changed. I am now questioning many things in my life that had always been a constant, like singing. All my life I have wanted to sing. But it stuck me a few nights ago that even from the age of 6 years old, I have wanted to sing for fame and glory. I have wanted thousands of people to stand in a concert hall and yell my name as music blasts over the PA. I have wanted to make the rounds on talk shows, to be the center of attention. At the heart of my desire to sing hasn't been because I love to sing (which I do), but because I wanted worldly fame and fortune. There have been other reasons as well. Living this life for other people. One instance is a distinct 'in your face' that I CAN be successful and talented even if you didn't want me.
               In Elder Eyring's talk today in General Conference for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, he spoke about doing the Lords work and pushing aside your own worldly ambitions. Asking Father in Heaven 'what would you have me do' without interfering with the answer because of what we want. This was the talk that I have been waiting for through all of conference. I needed help because I was struggling deeply with my conviction to go back to school in January. Since Michael was born, I have felt a deep anxiety, fear and stress over going back to school. The many things that should have been exciting to me, have seemed only fill me with fear. And I have struggled with this sudden change in my feelings. My whole life has been centered around one idea, singing. What am I if I don't want to do it anymore? Or if I don't feel like I want a career in music? What if I don't want to be a professional singer? Can I break those social contracts that have been created my whole life, predicated on me being a singer? Putting on that idea, trying it on like a coat, has been one of the strangest feelings I have ever had. The idea that I don't pursue music professionally feels totally foreign to me.

So what do I do? That question has plagued me now for weeks. What do I do?

Easy and Hard

Being a new mom is both easy and hard. I never would have thought that it would come so naturally. Michael is also a really calm baby which is nice. In a full day total he may cry a half hour to an hour. It's wonderful! But there is this niggle in the back of my head telling me that this may only be a temporary situation. But for now, Michael is an angel and I love it.

This first six weeks has been an adjustment to say the least. Waking up every couple of hours is hard, but he is finally starting to sleep for longer periods through the night. A five hour stretch, nurse, then another three hours. The first five hour stretch is VERY nice! The other biggest adjustment for me is not being able to leave  the house on the fly. It takes twice as long to get into the car, and then dealing with the crying when he's upset in the car is also frustrating. But in those moments, when he is sitting quietly, looking around, I am filled with a sense of joy and peace. I'm so happy to be a mother. It really has made me feel totally whole!

The Day The World Stopped (or, the birth of my first child)

This is a very detailed account of my childbirth. It is more for my records.


On Wednesday the 16th, I was getting ready for bed and said to Weston:
         "We're going to go to bed one night, and the next night we are going to have a baby. It's that quick and we'll have our little one."

I guess I had a little prophetic moment there.

Thursday was the day everything got started. My mother stopped by to pick up some things from our apartment to store for us with my two niece and nephew Eli and Lyric. We were all planning on going to the pool at my mother's after for a much needed soak. However, life had different plans. At exactly the moment I rounded the corner to leave the apartment, liquid ran down the inside of my leg. I stood there in shock for a moment, unable to move. Weston was out the door already talking with the Elders who live below us and I yelled for him. But of course he didn't hear me. So I hobble/walk around the corner, and yell at him again: "Whatever you are saying, I take precedent!"

He comes running up the stairs and I tell him, 'My water just broke!' It was a totally surreal moment. The moment when I realized we were going to have a baby today. I jumped on the toilet and we called the midwife. They asked me to come in at 4:00p to get a check-up. Mom was still at the house, so we did some last minute clean up, got our bag together and finally headed out the door. The birthing center was only 5 minutes away so the drive was quick, but uncomfortable.

Once we got there the midwives did a quick check on the position of the baby, at the moment anterior, my vitals and the fluid. Shock and awe, it was amniotic fluid! I had figured that part out when the blood had started to flow. They sent me home and asked me to come back when the contractions had reached a point where they were five minutes apart, 1 minute long, for at least 1 hour (511). Since the contractions hadn't started in earnest yet, we decided to go to Beto's Mexican restaurant for some dinner. I am thankful because it was the last thing I ate for nearly 20 hours.

At home, we started to keep track of the contractions via an app my husband has on his phone. It was great! It took each contractions length between and duration, averaged them all out and also could send it to you via email if you needed to share it with someone. For the first hour or so (5-6p) my contractions were 3 minutes apart lasting about one minute long. We were starting to get excited, thinking I might be an anomaly and give birth to my first baby really quickly! Hahaha! Weren't we funny?! I was able to sit through most of these, just taking a moment to be quiet when they came. We were sitting on the couches across from each other and I remember thinking, 'this is really happening, we are going to have a baby'.

The contractions began to take on a strange pattern at this point. They would stay consistent at 4 minutes apart 1 minute long for four or five contractions, then one would be 10 minutes later. This pattern 4,4,4,10 or   3,3,3,15 lasted for the next 4 hours. I sat on my birthing ball, on the computer chair, but constantly with Weston by my side. My parents showed up having dropped off my niece and nephew off with a baby sitter, around 7ish. They were both crazy tired because they hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, and now, they knew they weren't going to get any that night either. I had always had this vision of what I wanted my hair to look like when I gave birth to my first child, so my mother and I sat and figured it out while I was in early labor. I sat at the computer and pulled up the how to on the crown braid for mom to do.

After a particularly long contraction, we decide to call the midwives about what to do next. They told me to get into the tub and see if the that helps regulate the contractions. The water was amazing!!!! The contractions did indeed regulate, coming every 3 minutes with them at least 1 minute long. We called them back after an hour and they told us to come over. HOWEVER, they both were in Orem, so we had to wait until 12:15am before we could go over. That hour went by crazy fast and suddenly we were having to drive over to the center.

The drive sucked! At this point the contractions were enough that I was having to moan through them and really zone out. The car just made everything worse. I put on the special place hypnobabies CD and listened to that on the drive over. Weston parked the car at the front walk way, pulling my door up to the walk way (and we subsequently left it there all night!) and we managed to get inside. I had a total of 3 contractions on the way to the center, stupid car!

Once we got there, they did a vitals check as well as a v. check. I was dilated to a 2 and 70% effaced. When I heard that, my little heart fell. I thought for sure I must have been farther along then that! Of course everyone say's that doesn't mean anything, but it was a little discouraging. After a quick discussion amoungst themselves, they said they wanted to send me home. WHAT? Home? There was no way in hell I was going to be able drive home in the pain I was in. They wanted me to try and sleep. At this point the contractions were strong enough that I was moaning through them, and they wanted me to sleep. Right. . .

After putting my foot, my mother's foot and Weston's foot down, we made our way upstairs and into the tub.  The water was heavenly! I loved it! It was warm and soft and it helped with the contractions. That was until they asked me to lay on my left side. Laying on my left side was horrible. The contractions began coming faster and much stronger. I really didn't like being on my left side. They checked me again, and I was now dilated to a 4 and 80% effaced. 2 cm in 2 hours, I guess that was better.

Over the next few hours, I went into a few positions. On all fours on the bed with pillows propping me up (this position was okay, not as good as the tub, but okay), sitting on the toilet while holding onto Weston (dilated to a 5), and then again laying on my left side on the bed. This position began the hours that I call 'The Hell Hours'. The next three hours I never got a break. The pain would peak, then lesson, but never went away. Most of that was because Michael had decided to move posterior and with every contraction fighting what was happening. He would move, against the contraction, moving against it. The midwives were very surprised that he was moving during the contractions. Weston was able to watch as Michael would move during and between each contraction. It was making the pain about ten times worse the it needed to be.

The midwives had to keep reminding me to pull the tone of my 'ohhhs' down. Lower registers help relax the muscles and help keep them relaxed. At the peak of the contractions, my 'ohhs' began to sound more like 'aaah' then back down to 'ohhh'. But somewhere in the middle, my body began to push with each contraction at the peak. It wasn't that I was pushing, by my body pushed without my help. This was the strangest sensation because I was not in control of my body.

I was over the moon on the pushing. Once it was obvious my body was ready to push this baby out, the midwives had me set up on a birthing stool. A birthing stool is a horse shoe shaped stool that the midwives can sit on the floor beneath and see everything that is going on. Weston was behind me, holding my hands and supporting my back. I would bare down, pushing with all my might. I felt the 'burning ring of  fire' pretty soon, and even was able to feel little man's head just under the skin. It was the strangest feeling, the pressure of his head coming down the birth canal. It was amazing! I started to talk to Michael saying things like 'Come on baby', 'It's okay to come now', 'I want you to come', 'Come on, come on!' etc . . . The people in the room said it was very cute how I was talking to him.

Pushing was the best part of the whole birth process. It felt so good to push, to bare down and really give it my all. And after just a short 39 minutes, little Michael came out. His hand actually came out first, followed immediately by his head. When he came out, everyone in the room said 'There's a hand, it's a hand' but nobody explained why they were saying it. It wasn't until after he was born that they explained it to me. They had to turn his head because he was a little stuck, but once he was completely turned, he shot out like a bullet. I was so focused that it took me a few breaths to realize that there was a baby in my arms.

He was so warm and soft, his body melted right into me. The midwives quickly clamped the cord and Weston got to cut it. They handed Michael to Weston and quickly got me onto the floor. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was bleeding heavily. Enough that they were concerned about me hemorrhaging. Once on the floor they gave me an injection and my mother gave me a glass of water with helicrysm, a doTERRA oil to help with the bleeding as well. They worked on my stomach for a little bit, massaging me and checking me over. Because of the way he came out, I had a 2nd degree tear on my vaginal wall. But my perineum didn't tear, which was both a surprise and a blessing! Once they determined I wasn't hemorrhaging, they all picked me up and got me onto the bed, up on the pillows.

I finally got to really hold my little one. Because of the blood loss, I was pretty shaky and totally freezing, but snuggling with little man helped a ton! We got to hold him for an hour, looking at his total cuteness and beauty. He didn't have hardly any vernex on him. Because of the tests they took, they deduced that he was 42 weeks. He was 9lbs 10 oz, 21 inches long, his head was 14 1/2 in circumference and his APGAR was 10/10 at one minute. He was born at 7:21am, 17 hours after my water broke.

It was an amazing experience, tiring, but amazing. He was my little miracle. I was pretty shaky and exhausted for about two days until I was really able to feel the elation of having a new baby. But now, I can't imagine my life without him. He's only been with us know for 17 days, but it feels like he's been here for a long time.

Michael, moments after birth

Mommy and Michael a few hours after birth

The King and Crown

 

Beautiful Blue 

Responsibility and Respect Part 2

My parents hated bullies and couldn't stand it when others were intolerant to our beliefs or others beliefs. They would stand and support causes that they believed in, but would never tell someone that they are evil for believing what they believe. They always pushed us to get our own opinions about things while giving us their views about topics. I grew up in this household. I was never forced to believe what they believed. I learned respect from my parents. I never belittle anyone, never look at them like they are lesser citizens for believing something. People have different opinions, lifestyles, ethics, moral centers then myself and I'm fine with that. I have never, and I'll never, push my beliefs onto other people.

So why is it that when I give an opinion on social media (cough, cough, Facebook) people suddenly feel it's totally fine to attack, belittle, argue (not debate) what I've said. I have two friends that have very different opinions of things then myself. One have been a best friend of my for a very long time, friend #1. The other is someone I became close to about two years ago friend #2. Friend #1 and I have a great relationship and he will always be counted as a brother in my heart. But we also debate and discuss things all the time because we have such drastically different views. He is a feminist, and I honestly am more of a traditionalist. We disagree on government, sometimes religion doctrine, and many other topics. But we are still the best of friends because at the end of the day we respect each other. There is never any mudslinging or dirty talk, just opinions shared.

However, with friend #2, it's a totally different matter. She and I come from very different backgrounds. I'm highly religious, she isn't at all. I have very conservative views, she is extremely liberal. While I might not agree with everything she say's, I always try to remain respectful of her opinions and ideas. But when it comes to her respecting me and my opinions, she has no ability to share and move on. She has to be right and refuses to let me have my opinion. A recent conversation with her (via facebook, that evil center where people feel they can say whatever they want), I realized that no matter how respectful I am, she will never be. First she must always voice her opinion if she doesn't agree with something that I say or post. While she knows my views and that I will not be changing them, she insists on pushing her own views onto me. On posts about my religion (Mormon), she always posts how she doesn't agree and that I am being either ignorant or stupid because I believe it. Now she would never say that she does that, even when pointed out to her by others. She believes that she has the right to attack my views, while I should just sit back and take it.

Through these two drastically different people, I have learned what it means to debate vs argue. I have learned that there are those that will never respect my opinions, regardless of how respectful I am to them. I have learned that I will not put up with being attacked because I believe something different.

And sadly, I have learned that there are some people in life that will always live in a place of defense and anger.

Has respect disappeared in our society? After recent events, I have decided that YES. It has.

My Testimony of God

Every journal that I start, the first entry is my testimony of God and his son Jesus Christ. It became a tradition after I realized that I hadn't written down my testimony for years and that thought didn't sit well with me. So now every time I get a new journal, I write my testimony at length for my posterity. It's interesting to go back and read what my testimony was as a teenager, and what is it now. My life experiences have shaped and changed my testimony, strengthening it. So I feel it only appropriate to share my testimony of God the Father, his son Jesus Christ and the truth that is the gospel. 

I testify that Church of Jesus Christ is true. I testify that Joseph Smith did restore the fullness of the gospel upon this earth, and that it will never be taken away again. I testify that I know that Jesus Christ died for the sins of this world. I know that it is only through Christ, through his atonement, we can join our families forever in heaven. I know that through his atonement I can be forgiven for my sins, receive the Holy Ghost as my constant companion and am not held by the chains of death. 

On a more specific note, I testify of the reality of the battle between good and evil; the righteous and the wicked, fought daily in our lives. I testify that the righteous of the world are under siege by Lucifer and his followers. This is not a battle being fought in a faraway land, where the effects do not touch us. This is real, every day and in every aspect of our lives. Is it not theoretical, it is literal. The devil wishes to destroy us, to bring us misery and to pull our souls into damnation. I have had experiences that have proven this to me. His desire to kill our spirits, to deaden the communications from heaven to earth, is very real and he will fight in any way to reach his goal. 

I also have a testimony of the help and strength we are given through the gospel, and through the atonement of Jesus Christ. While we are at war for our spiritual selves, we are not alone. God and Christ will never leave us to fight these battles alone. We have angels to lift us up (those seen and unseen in our lives), families to give support and love, and the very real companionship of the Holy Ghost. Never before has it been so important to do the 'Sunday School' answers; read our scriptures so we know of God and Christ, pray to our Father in Heaven so that we have open lines of communication, and attend our church meetings with open hearts and minds to learn of His teachings. 

The Lord know us personally, knows our struggles and our personal battles. Rely on Him, and call on His help, as I know he will give it. 

I say these things, in the sacred name of my Savior Jesus Christ, Amen.