The Divine Calling of Motherhood

It's late. I need to be in bed right now, but the pull to write is stronger than the pull of my night time meds, so .... here I am.

Tonight didn't go exactly how I thought it would. After a family BBQ for memorial day at my in-laws home we miraculously pulled off an 8:30 bedtime for the kids. A half hour late on bedtime on a holiday is a win in my book. Usually after the kids go to bed my husband and I bury ourselves in some good ol' Netflix and have some much needed, kid-less, alone time. Tonight however, we looked at each other, and were like, "Nah. Let's go to bed instead." We were still a little 'binge watching hungover' from the night before when we stayed up past two in the morning to finish the final episodes of our current show. (side note: isn't finding a new show to binge the friggin' worst?!) Anyway, so the hubs is in bed by nine. Kids in bed? Check. Hubby in bed? Check. Nine? Me? No way! If this isn't the perfect opportunity to read my book than I don't know what is. Quiet, peaceful, alone-time reading... ahhhh.... bliss.

About twenty minutes into my reading sesh I hear the kid's bedroom door crrrrrreak open. Oh crap. The three year old is going to refuse to go to bed.... again! Then I hear the sniffles. Nope. Not my feisty three year old but instead, my sensitive tender six year old trying to hold back tears. He rounds the corner and sees me in the living room and immediately starts crying. I pull him into a hug and it takes a moment or two for him to choke out the words that he is scared and can't sleep. I grab his B and tell him to take my phone and watch funny videos on Youtube (the kid is a AFV junkie!) to try and get his mind off of the scary stuff while I read my book. We cuddle on the couch that way for a while longer. When I tell him its time to try bed again he starts to blink tears but is trying really hard to be brave. We go into his room and I tuck him into bed and then the crying starts. Except its not from him it is now from the three year old who was just so rudely woken up. Great. Bedtime for mom is getting farther away and yeah, remember how I am already exhausted AND took my night time pills already? Cue eye roll here.

So I sit on the floor next to her bed and stroke her hair but she is MAD and seriously not having it. So I grab my phone and turn on kids lullabies on Spotify. She calms down enough to listen to the music and looking over at my other kid, I can tell he is still struggling with scary thoughts. All I can do at this point is plop my butt into the rocking chair and listen to lullabies while hopefully my children calm down their nerves and fall asleep.

I love my rocking chair. It's big and cozy and absolutely wonderful. I have spent a lot of late nights in that chair. I do some of my deepest thinking in that chair.

Tonight, rocking back and forth, listening to the most beautiful piano music, watching my kids eyelids grow heavy, I pondered on motherhood. Have you ever felt guilty for not loving motherhood like you think you should? I constantly feel that. Being a mom to these kids is my divine purpose, I truly believe that. So how come I don't enjoy it more? How come, instead of delighting in being a mom, I so often feel drudgery instead? I love my kids to the moon and back again, you should know that. However, that doesn't mean that motherhood has been easy on me. I look at other women and they just thrive as moms. They are in their element. They are the Pinterest moms. The mommy bloggers and vloggers. The ones who go above and beyond on every single holiday including national pie day. The moms who can pop out six kids, no problem-o. (Like, they actually like being pregnant) I had a friend who didn't go on a date with her husband for the entire first year of her son's life because she couldn't bear to be away from him. I went on an anniversary weekend getaway when my son was only two months old. Some moms are SO happy with this homeschooling/quarantine crap because they get more time with their kids. I literally booked myself an airbnb for a long weekend just so I could be alone. No joke.  I have often wondered if there is something fundamentally wrong with me and my feelings about mom life.

So these are the thoughts I am thinking as I am rocking and longing to be in my bed instead. And then..... something happened. The song "You'll be in my heart" from Tarzan started to play. It was just piano music but the lyrics ran through my head. I looked over at the sleeping forms of my children, and was immediately filled with so much peace. There was so much peace in the room it was almost tangible. I wish there was a better word than peace. Peace doesn't seem to do the feeling justice, but its the best word I have. There is something magical that happens when you watch your child drift off to sleep. I can't explain it, but it's the best feeling in the world. The feeling of pride in what you have created. The feeling of a love you never knew existed. The feeling of home and family and eternity all wrapped up in one. They are so precious, these little heaven sent angels of mine.

So maybe I don't get overjoyed with the day to day drudgeries of motherhood. But I DO delight in the bond that I feel for them. That everlasting bond that can't be broken. That is a beautiful thing. I may not be the best mom in the world, but I am a pretty damn good one. (but maybe not tomorrow morning because it's already 1:00 am haha.)

The Year of Intent

Have you heard of choosing a word of intent for your year? I have a few Uzzie friends who do this. They choose one word to focus on for the entire year. People choose words like: faith, success, happiness, gratitude, etc. The idea has always intrigued me, but I hadn't ever done it. I decided to try it out this year because, why not?

To put it lightly, last year was hellish. I lost my 26 year old cousin to cancer. My aunt was diagnosed with cancer. My grandpa passed away. I faced some other very personal challenges. There was just so much sadness, so much heartache, so much loss. I am still struggling with my grandpa's death. Every once in a while it will just hit me in the gut like a sucker punch, I miss him a lot. But anyway, back to my point, not my best year. (apart from Isilee who by far was the best part of my year)

It took me a long time to choose my word. I knew I wanted a word to help me focus on being more positive, to enjoy living more, to relish the moments that I have and not take anything for granted. I thought about 'happiness' and 'joy' but to me those words represent a state of being. I wanted to pursue those feelings, so I needed more of an action word. I was googling this and that and what not, when I stumbled upon the phrase, "Delight in your day". That was it. Delight. I don't want to just enjoy my children, I wanted to DELIGHT in them. I don't want to just muddle through marriage, I want to DELIGHT in my marriage.  I don't want to just survive life, I want to DELIGHT in it.  Delight was the action word that I needed.

There is a website called My Intent Project that will actually make you a bracelet with your word inscribed on it. I knew I needed to order myself one so that I would have a constant reminder of my goal for the year, after all, I am a very forgetful person who has a lot of good intentions thrown by the wayside. (I have a stack of un-mailed thank you cards to prove it)  It may sound silly, but it has actually helped me a lot. It has become the mantra I say to myself in my head when a kiddo wakes me up at three in the morning, "Delight in your children, for they won't be little for long." I say it when I have to set an alarm and wake up early, "Delight in your day because each day you live is a blessing." I have even found myself repeating it in a busy checkout line at the grocery store, "Delight in the fact that you no longer work at the grocery store and get to go home, while this poor cashier has to deal with the angry man behind you." And yes, sometimes my mantra comes out snarky or sarcastic, but even that helps me because it makes me "delight in my sense of humor".

It is only February so my word of intent project has only been going for about a month now, but so far I am happy with the experiment. I really hate setting new year resolutions because I never accomplish them and that just makes me feel bad about myself. Having a word of intent however is easy and doable and actually seems to be working. Granted I still have my bad moments and bad days but who doesn't? This might just become a yearly thing for me, I think I like it.

Thirty. Nerdy. And thriving.

I just turned thirty. That demands some serious self reflection. My twenties were wonderful and awful and everything in between. I went to college. I dropped out of college. I worked at more jobs then I would care to admit. I lived with over 30 roommates- some I am fine with never seeing again, and some I know I will see for the rest of my life. I've had friends come in the best ways, and friends go in the worst ways. I got married. I bought a house. I had two beautiful babies. I've lost family members to old age, cancer, and suicide. Most importantly though, I discovered who I was and who I want to be. It was my time to grow into adulthood.

I wanted to do something epic for my thirtieth birthday. I decided to give myself something I've wanted for over ten years, but fear held me back. I got a tattoo. Would you like to know the only reason of why I didn't get it sooner? Because I was too damn scared of what other people would think of me. Ridiculous right? But you see- I'm the goody good, "Molly Mormon", never put a toe over the line kind of person. I don't take risks. I play it safe. I don't do anything remotely out of the ordinary. I live a simple, pure, clean life. Heck, I've never even seen a R-rated movie!! So this is SO UNLIKE ME!! But I wanted this. I wanted it so badly. I've come to realize that living a life full of fear of what others will think about me is not really living. Also, it doesn't matter what you do- you're bound to piss someone off by doing it! One of the wisest men I know, Dr. Seuss, said it best- "Be who you are and say what you feel. Because those who matter don't mind, and those who mind don't matter." Amen Dr. Seuss, Amen!

Story behind my tattoo for anyone interested: If you have had any sort of interaction with me whatsoever you know that I am ridiculously obsessed with Harry Potter. I am part of the Harry Potter generation. I read the first book as a pre-teen, and went to the last movie in my mid-twenties. I grew up right alongside Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I can go on and on and ON about my obsession, but I will spare you all the nerdy details. (spoiler alert) In the very last book Dumbeldore is talking to Snape and is surprised to learn that Snape still loves Lilly (Harry's deceased mother). Dumbledore asks Snape, "After all this time?" and Snape replies, "Always".  The word is made even more special by the late Alan Rickman, who played Severus Snape. He said, "When I am in my eighties I'll be sitting in my rocking chair reading Harry Potter. My grandchildren will ask me, "After all this time?" To which I will reply, "Always." Always is how I feel about this series. I will always love it. I will always cherish it. I will always be grateful for it. I want to always be brave like Harry. Always be loyal like Ron. Always be smart like Hermione. Always be kind like Luna. Always be determined like Neville. Always be hopeful like Ginny. Always.

Girl Talk

When I got pregnant I really really really did NOT want a girl. And if you ever tell Isilee that I will deny deny deny! Growing up I had terrible experiences with girls. I don't know why I always seemed to attract the "mean girls" as friends- but I never really had good experiences with my so called friends. They were the type of girls to cancel plans last minute if a boy came knocking, to gossip and spread rumors about you behind your back, to be besties with you when things were going well for you, but then drop you like a ton of bricks when you actually needed them. I even had one friend date the guy that I was crazy in love with just to prove that she could get him and I couldn't, true story. I always got along much better with my guy friends. I am not a big fan of girls. I don't like drama queens. I don't do the whole girly-girl thing. And I definitely can not stand divas. So I just didn't want to raise a girl to become those things, or even for her to have to deal with those things the way that I did.

I was hoping and praying for a boy. Boys are easy. Boys are nice. My boy is awesome, incredible, wonderful, loving, kind, hilarious, etc. I wanted another one.

However. God had a different idea for me. The weeks leading up to when we found out the gender I knew God was working on me. I am the Activity Days Leader in our ward (8-11 year olds) and I love my girls. They are sweet and kind to one another. They are polite and helpful. They are funny and adorable. The more I spent time with them the more I realized that I wouldn't mind raising a girl to be like one of them. Then that Halloween I worked my usual Pumpkin Palooza booth in Kaysville and my heart practically exploded at all the princesses, cowgirls, fairies, mermaids, etc. I realized what I would be missing out on if I didn't have a girl. Boy costumes are so boring. There were many other occasions where I knew that God was working on me, so that by the time that our big gender reveal appointment came, I not only knew it was a girl, but I wanted it to be a girl. And of course, it was. And I was excited.

The second I laid eyes on Isilee I was in love. I literally felt my heart jerk out of place when I saw her for the first time. She is perfect. I am so glad she is mine. The boys went out for a father-son date and I said "It's just us girls" to Isilee- it may seem ridiculous, but in that moment I knew that I was raising my best friend. I got really excited for that possibility. Just us girls. Isilee made the genders even in our home and I like that a lot. I am excited to paint her nails, dress her up, buy barbies and dolls and ponies and trolls- oh the shopping! Thank heavens for little girl toys and make up and dress-ups! I know the teenage years will be hard, but hopefully I can raise a kind, caring, confident girl who doesn't put up with bullies and stands up for those that are being bullied. I am excited for the future I have with my daughter and I am thankful that Heavenly Father knows what I need and doesn't listen to what I think I want.

Why Be Anti Anything?

When something is bothering me and I can't get it off my mind I know I need to write it out. It's the only way I know of to get things out of my head. This particular "bug" has to do with anti-mormons.

More then a few years ago I had someone very near and dear to me leave the church that I am a member of. He walked away from the LDS church and I held no judgements towards him for doing so. I believe that we all need to choose the path, religious or not, that is best for us. I was still friends with him and all was well. Until it wasn't. He began to let bitterness enter his heart. He started posting anti-mormon articles. He joined the protesters at General Conference. He started saying horrible, destable things about everyone and anything to do with the church. It got so bad I knew it was time to cut ties with him. Because here's the thing- you don't have to believe it anymore, but I still do. And if he had an ounce of respect for any of his friends or family that still were members, he would have never spread such hatred. This was a man who served a mission. Someone who taught the most inspirational lessons. Gave the most spiritual talks. Helped others through times of doubt. And now? Now he has turned bitter and resentful. 

If you want to leave the church, that's your business, do what is best for you. But what I don't understand is why people can't just walk away and be done with it? Why attack something you once cherished? Especially when loved ones still cherish it? Why be anti anything? I know there are people out there who have been hurt by Mormon members. Like any other church on the planet, we are made up of imperfect people. People who have agency to choose evil and hurt others. But why let it destroy who you are? Why put hate into your life like that? Again- why be anti anything? What good does that do anyone, really? There is so much negativity, hatred, bigotry, racism, etc.  in the world today, why would you want to fuel those fires?? 

Let me just be blunt for a minute. A lot of LDS people are known for being oposed to gay rights/marriage. It's a hot topic with a lot of people. I have friends who are gay. Do I love them less? No. Do I think they are bad people? Nope. Do I think they are going to hell? Of course not! Does every Mormon have the same feelings as I do and treat their gay brothers and sisters with love and respect? Unfortunately, no. Imperfect people remember. It is definitely a two way street. It goes both ways. Bullying in church is actually kind of a sore spot for me. It infuriates me that so many members of the church I participate in feel justified in treating their fellow men so badly. I'm definitely not condoning that kind of behavior. But what I don't understand, is how people can turn around and become bullies themselves? It is quite baffling to me. 

Instead of being anti-mormon, anti-gay, anti-whatever... can't we be pro-something? pro-love? pro-acceptance? Pro-kindness to everyone. Seriously. Stop being anti anything. 

Endings and New Beginnings

There is a tornado of emotions swirling within me right now. I am approaching my last two weeks of being pregnant and struggling with all of the feelings that accompany that. There is a very good chance that this is the last time in my life that I will ever be pregnant again, so there's that. Although I do not like being pregnant, I understand and am eternally grateful for how lucky I am to have the ability to be pregnant so easily without any complications or years and years of waiting for it to happen. I can definitely appreciate the miracle that growing and carrying a baby inside of you is. This baby girl of mine is a wiggle worm and I know in my heart that I am going to miss that feeling. To be able to feel something so precious is something too sacred to put into words. So yes, I am going to miss this. But there is also a feeling of excitement and anticipation to meet her. An anxiousness to finally have her in my arms and a real, tangible part of our family.

There is also this overwhelming feeling of guilt I feel for my first born. Being a second child myself, I am a little confused by this feeling, but it is there all the same. Will Leland be okay? I find myself asking this question at least a million times a day. Its been him and I for so long now, almost four years. We are best buddies. How will a second child change the dynamic between us? How much jealousy will he feel towards his baby sister when mom is having to give her so much of her time and energy? Will he digress? Will my relationship with my son change for the worse? Everyone tells me that it somehow just works. That your love as a mother is not divided, but multiplied. I pray they are right. I pray that Leland is strong enough to handle all of this change that is headed his way. It seems like a lot to ask of a three year old. I find myself lately craving to be near Leland, to soak up these last few precious moments I have alone with him. For some reason I am finding it very difficult to say goodbye to this time of our lives, but that only makes me feel guilty towards my second child. This mom guilt thing is a terrible feeling, like neither of my children can both win.

And there is that dreaded feeling of fear. A fear that is so overpowering it threatens to wash me away completely. The beast is coming. I know it is. I may have better tools to fight it this time, but it is coming nonetheless.  It is unavoidable, that beastly monster of depression that comes after birth. Postpartum depression is a foul, loathsome, demon that haunts me even before it has arrived. It nearly tore my marriage apart last time. What horrors will it have in store for me this time? There is nothing but dread in the pit of my stomach when I think about this. Can my family afford to have this creature of darkness enter our home? Are we strong enough?

Some how we will all make it through the next few months in one piece. There will be a day in the future when I come back to read this blog and laugh at myself for being such a worry wart and for not having more faith. At least, I have hope for that day anyway. I am nervous to have a newborn again. I am anxious thinking about the long nights with no sleep. I worry about my son. I am scared for postpartum depression. I am excited to meet this baby girl. I am slightly concerned about the medical bills headed our way. I am a million different emotions in one very tired and very pregnant body. So I sit at my computer in the middle of the night, too stressed out to sleep, and I type it all out. And somehow, I feel better.

Ramblings of a Prego Lady

The decision to have another child was not an easy one for me. Okay, let me re-phrase that, the decision to get pregnant again was not an easy one for me. In my naive teenage years I always thought I would have four or five kids. And then the first one came and though he is mostly an angel, the entire experience was absolutely awful. He isn't awful. I was awful! When I was pregnant with Leland I lost over 60 pounds. I threw up every single day I was pregnant and every hour I was in labor. They told me that morning sickness would only last my first trimester- HA! First trimester my ass! Add the sickness to the raw emotions and mood swings and quite frankly, I was a beastly mess. After he came along the nausea and throwing up thankfully went away, but the mood swings did not. For the next year or two I was plagued with some of the darkest depression I have ever experienced. Those days marks the worst fights that Justin and I have ever had. I ruined friendships. Tested my family. I basically felt like I was drowning and I was taking everyone around me down with me.

However, I never wanted my son to be an only child. How boring would that be for him? Deciding to go through my living hell again, after finally feeling like I could breathe again, was hard. People kept asking me when I was going to give Leland a sibling, and time was ticking ever-onward, but I knew what was right for me. I didn't want my children to be farther apart in ages, I needed them to be. I needed time to let my body and mind heal. I needed to finally enjoy motherhood for a while before I entered the living hell again. And I knew that throwing up every day with a 3 year old would be much, much easier then with an 18 month old. I am so glad that I waited. Leland is much more independent these days and can be left alone for short periods of time. He isn't as needy and although I feel bad for letting his shows babysit him, it is wonderful that he can sit quietly for a while while mommy is on the bathroom floor.

This time around has definitely not been easy. But I feel like being more open about my struggles has helped a lot. I have more support. My mom and mother in law have been wonderful for taking Leland for a while and giving him a break from the barfing. I have friends and neighbors who offer to watch him on my really bad days. 12 weeks in and I am already down 20 pounds. I feel like I have entered that scary world of barely living on survival mode. I haven't been a good wife, mother, friend, daughter, sister, grand-daughter, etc. I hate that feeling of only doing what's absolutely necessary and not being able to do a whit more then that. I am frustrated. I am on two different prescriptions from my doctor, wearing sea-bands every day, and doing another number of home remedies for nausea, and still, nothing works. Being this sick for this long is both physically and emotionally draining.

I am also grateful. I feel so grateful for being able to feel Heavenly Father's awareness of me and my suffering. An example of this happened this week. On Monday I was not able to get a single piece of food down my throat without gagging. I was worried about what going so long without food or drink would do to my baby because it wasn't getting the nutrition it needed. That night I jumped on Facebook and asked my friends for advice. Not only did they offer advice, but they gave me consoling words and some of them even offered to pray for me. I was still discouraged, and hungry, but their kindness touched me deeply. The next morning I woke up and I knew instantly something had changed. I didn't feel sick. I didn't have the immediate urge to run to the toilet. I haven't had a morning like that since I got pregnant. That day I was not only able to get a meal down, but to keep it down. And for the first time, in a long time, I felt thirsty. It was a miracle. Maybe a small and simple miracle, but a miracle nonetheless. That day I could literally feel the prayers of others benefiting me and lifting me up. I have heard people say that they can feel other people's prayers for them, but I have never experienced it first hand. After such a long, hard few weeks, I really needed that win. All I really wanted was just one day, one good day to not feel sick, and I got it after one of my worst days. I think Heavenly Father knew I needed a break and He gave it to me. I feel nothing but gratitude.

I have had many small instances that buoy me up and give me the strength to carry on one more day through this misery. Watching Leland sleep. A good belly-laugh with my friend. A date with my husband. Being inspired by General Conference. They are all such small things but each one gives me the strength to go on.  One of the biggest miracles was when I had my first ultra sound. I was able to witness my small jelly bean jumping and dancing and wiggling and I don't think anything is more miraculous then that. I have life inside of me and that is amazing. I know this suffering will be a blink in time and in April I will be holding one of God's most miraculous little miracles in my arms and I'll think, "Well, that wasn't really so bad was it?" And who knows, maybe in a few years I will be stupid enough to sign up for this all over again. All I can say is, thank heavens these precious angels are worth it!