So those that know me well know that I am very independent. Very. I like to do things all by myself, and figure that most of the time it is better this way, because I am a quality control type of person. I get that from my mother. It isn't often that this causes me trouble. I mean, what could be bad about being in control?
Well....it can mean that when too many things are out of my control I can freak out. Does this mean that I ask for help? No, I still try to do it on my own. I can write this and see how silly that this is, but it doesn't stop me from doing it.
As I mentioned in my last post, I was trying to do things on my own for 3 months. In the beginning, I thought that we were looking at a few weeks, a month maybe. I can handle that, I thought. Reality set in as I started adding more and more weeks with no car, and a few with no phone. I tried to get everything done on the weekend. There didn't seem to be any reason for me to announce to anyone in my LDS ward that we were moving until we actually knew when we were. I didn't tell my neighbors, because we don't really have any. We live on the highway all by ourselves and the nearest house is a 10 minute walk away. I didn't tell my parents, who live 3 hours away, because I knew that they were really busy and had a lot of commitments. I didn't want to complain. I didn't want to be the squeaky wheel. I just wanted to take care of me and my own.
After a while, a few people on Sundays would ask how things were going with moving. I was good at telling them that we hadn't found a place yet, and that my boys really missed their daddy. When I talked to my parents I said the same things. I didn't mention that I was lonely, or that I was feeling burnout doing it all by myself. Sometimes I thought to myself, "if he was not in the country, or state, I could ask for help. If he was on a military deployment, people would offer to help whether I wanted it or not." At this same time I had a few friends with their husbands at basic training and such, and they (rightly so) had great support systems that allowed them to catch the occasional break by watching their kids or doing other needed things. I am not proud of it, but sometimes I was a little jealous. I then would feel incredibly guilty for that jealousy, so I kept telling myself that at least I had him on the weekends, and I could call him every day. And I didn't ask for help.
I am not someone who likes to just sit. I need things to do. I tried to find projects to keep me busy. I joked to my husband that this was because he was gone and he was usually my project. ;) I wanted to pack, but not knowing when we would move meant I didn't want stuff in boxes if I might need it. I got caught up on making books from our photos online. I made a book about our wedding, I made one for Eli's first year. I tried to make an ABC book with miscellaneous pictures we had taken throughout the year. This occupied me for a week. It is ridiculously easy to do. I read a few books. I tried to exercise regularly. I caught up on TV shows online.
Throughout all of this, my husband and I talked almost every night he was away on the phone. I had only been apart from him a couple of times before, for a few days at a time. People that know us as a couple know that we are kinda joined at the hip. We are best friends. I missed him so much. Something that made this harder was his own struggle. My husband has bipolar disorder, which he usually can control pretty well with medication. With him away, he wasn't sleeping well, or eating well, and was under a lot of stress. He was lonely. He hated essentially going back to a bachelor lifestyle. His moods became harder and harder to control. Riding this roller coaster with him is not always fun in the best of circumstances. In these circumstances, it became painfully tiring and difficult.
On the weekends he came home late Friday night and left Sunday afternoon. On Saturdays we crammed in grocery shopping, family time, cleaning, and tried and failed to stay on routine for the kids. Neither of us was sleeping well or doing well emotionally. Needless to say we were tired and overwhelmed and frustrated, and added needless arguments to the mix.
My 3 year old son Ethan began acting out. He wanted his daddy, and when he wasn't there when he wanted him, he was angry. He didn't understand why he had to be gone. He threw tantrums over it. He yelled and threw things. He started to talk back to me, or ignore me. Every day was a struggle. On the weekends he didn't want me to talk to him or touch him. He just wanted daddy. The one bright spot in our lives was my sweetheart Eli. He was happy almost all of the time (and still is). He smiled, he laughed, he snuggled. Even when his brother pushed him down and hit him. He cheered me up on some of the hardest days.
In the beginning, I was strong. As the weeks wore on, I started to cry whenever Marc and I talked. At the end, I had stopped crying. I was too tired. I was numb. I had become depressed. I didn't do my hair or makeup except on the weekends. I only cleaned the parts of the house the kids used every day, instead of the tight ship I usually run. I didn't cook meals very often. We still ate healthy, we just ate fruit and microwaved frozen veggies with all the other foods around the house that needed minimal cooking. Which is a big deal. I love to cook. There just didn't seem to be a point when I didn't have Marc to cook for. I stopped having the heart to read. I never did get the heart to blog. All I had left was my routines for my kids and TV shows I watched in the evening.
I really didn't think that I could take much more. Finally it looked like we were really going to get into a home. I knew that I should feel happy, but I just couldn't get excited. I was expecting something else to go wrong. Then the shootings at Sandy Hook elementary happened. I felt sick. The dam broke. I couldn't stop crying. I sobbed several times. Yes, I was devastated for those children and their families and friends. But I was crying for me too. And I couldn't stop. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I just cried off and on for days. That was the weekend that I realized how low I had gone.
I know that there are a lot of people that can handle being in the same situation, and for longer, than I. But there is nothing wrong with my realization that this was too much for me. I feel that because of a few factors unique to our situation everything was compounded. This is why I feel that it wasn't just hard for us, it was somewhat traumatic. It is going to take a while to heal from this. Thankfully, that has already started to happen, most notably with my kids.
The good news from all of this is that I have learned a lot of lessons. I know that I can't do everything by myself, and never want to do so to this extent again. I have next-door neighbors now, and you had better bet that I am going to get to know them. And I don't have to feel guilty about everything I feel. I just need to stop listening to the little voice in my head that is telling me that this post will just look like a pity party and seem that I am looking for people to feel bad for me. Because I am not. It is okay that I am admitting these things, these real things.
The real test of this learning came last week when I was sick. Both of my kids had been sick and it hadn't fazed them much. I thought I would come through unscathed. Boy was I wrong. I was completely taken out by it. I was more sick than I remember being for a very long time. I will spare you the nasty details, but lets just say I couldn't keep anything down and was in the bathroom almost constantly for most of 12 hours. I didn't sleep.
It was morning at that point and I was dreading my husband leaving for work. I honestly did not know how I could possibly take care of my children that day. My husband suggested that we call someone in our LDS ward to take the kids. At first I resisted. But then I remembered that I wasn't going to be so dumb about getting help from people anymore. He made some calls and soon had someone to watch the kids. And she watched them all day. I gradually was able to leave the bathroom, then able to eat a few crackers, and finally I got some rest. I slept from a little before 2 to 5:30. When my husband brought the kids home, he came with a dinner this sweet woman had prepared for us.
I was overcome with gratitude for this wonderful person, someone that hardly knew us because we had just moved in. I cried. As I cried, a little bit of it was for all the days that I had needed help in the past 3 months and had not asked for it. Why did I do that to myself? Why?
Maybe an old dog can learn new tricks. Maybe someone set in their ways like me can learn to ask for help. Maybe someone independent as me can learn that they need other people more than they think. Maybe. I sure hope so, for my own sake.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Saturday, January 12, 2013
I'm Back! Or At Least I am Trying to Be
A lot of things have happened in our family recently. A LOT. Good things. Bad things. All sorts of things. Here is a summary that is as brief as I can manage. It is something that I may or may not try to expand in later posts.
I guess that the biggest thing of all is that my husband Marc quit one job and got another. In a different town. For those of you that know us, we have moved a few times since we have been married, all in-state. My friend Val calls it our "tour of Utah". Twice in Logan to different apartments, then to St. George for an internship, then to Duchesne for a brief stressful job, then to Price to get into banking. Now we have moved to Roosevelt for a job at a credit union, which was Marc's main goal and interest all this time.
Great news, right? Well, yes, it was. Then came the over-the-top stress overload that was trying to find a place to live. I thought that we would just find a place to rent and move at the beginning of October. I was so wrong. There were hardly any rentals, all teeny or exorbitantly expensive. One gorgeous place we looked at leased for 1400 a month. I kid you not. That is like a mortgage! And more than people I know that are paying mortgages. Apparently there is a shortage of places to rent and buy because of the oil boom in the area, which has driven prices way up. We finally had to realize that we couldn't afford to rent, but could afford to buy. What a strange situation! I had not even considered buying a home. I didn't feel ready. It was too much of a grown-up old person thing to do!
We started looking at homes before we knew our exact price limit. BIG MISTAKE. I saw places that I loved that we couldn't afford. We even put an offer on one. Even with Marc's experience with housing counseling at USU, we didn't know quite what we were doing.When we found out what we could afford, it was a bit less than we were expecting. It was mostly because Marc had barely been hired, he hadn't worked long enough for the credit union to qualify for what he technically could afford with his income. I never could have guessed that would only be the first in a long line of disappointments.
We found a nice town home in Vernal, which is 25 minutes away. I felt less rushed into being a homeowner with something that could be re-sold easily. A week away from closing, the seller backed out. He decided on the advice of a friend that he would wait a year for the property to be worth more. Then we tried another town home. It was bought from under us by someone willing to pay cash for it. I looked at some pretty icky places after that, feeling more desperate. Nothing impressed me.
Then I found it. The one. A beautiful condo came on the market one day and we were the first to look at it. I loved everything about it. The neighborhood, the decor, the amount of bedrooms, everything. I put an offer on it on the spot. A few days later it turned out that the seller owed more than they thought they did, so they had to raise the price. This put the condo 15,000 out of our price range.
I started really getting desperate. I had Marc look at places that I had never considered before. really cheap places. I started to joke about buying a place to turn into a rental property. Except it wasn't funny. It was real. It crushed me to think that I was going to live in a place far from what I had imagined for my first home. Finally Marc looked at a place and felt that it was the right thing to do. He knew that I would be disappointed and upset, but he knew it was the solution for us. I had never seen it myself, but I decided to trust his judgement. We put an offer on the property.
Our offer was accepted quickly and gratefully by the little old widow that lived there. She wanted to sell her home and move to Arizona as soon as possible. We we happy with that idea. The next thing to happen was that we had to get approved for a different type of loan because the home is a modular home. Between this and other things, it took another month for things to go through.
By the end, Marc had been away from us except for weekends for a little more than three (3!) months. The longer all of this took, the more I just wanted to be together again as a family. I literally wanted to be home for Christmas. And it almost didn't happen. We closed on the home on Thursday. Our paperwork didn't make it to FedEx pick-up deadline. We were told that we would have to wait for it to be sent the next day, and our loan to post on Monday, Christmas Eve. After some heroics by our amazing real estate agent, a digital copy was sent that allowed everything to go through that next morning. We got the keys at last.
Marc was living with his aunt while we were still in Price. That meant that the single parent weeks and whirlwind weekends wore me down, just as much as the near return to bachelorhood wore Marc down. I had no idea that things would take so long, so I never really asked anyone for help. I went weeks and weeks with no car and little interaction with the world outside of our home. I felt so alone, isolated, and depressed. It is funny, but it feels like I am coming back from being away for a long, long, time.
Along with my new years resolution to write posts on this blog to keep everyone updated on our lives and record memories, I think that returning to writing after neglecting it since I graduated college 4 1/2 years ago will help me come back a little bit more each time. I hope that some of you out there are still there to take this ride with me.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Eli's first year
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
A Happy Birthday
Yesterday was my son Elijah's first birthday. I still can hardly believe it.
In one sense, it doesn't seem so long ago that our litte family had only 3 people in it. Ethan was king, commanding nearly every moment of attention between my and Marc's waking hours (and some of the night!) It seems that even less time has passed since the moment I was holding Eli's little body to my chest, still blue and purple as he took his first breaths.
Yet a year has passed. In another sense, it is hard to imagine my days without Eli's sunny smile. He is happy most of the time and loves to laugh. He is patient with Ethan and with me. He is such a joy in our family!
To celebrate a one-year-old's birthday is much easier than an older child. Their likes and joys are so much simpler! Eli would be happy with most things, but it was fun to please him with some of his favorite things. He received a fun toy from us after Ethan went down for his nap, which meant that he got to play with it first all by himself, before Ethan could take over.
For dinner we had some of his favorite foods: fish sticks, fries, strawberries, and chocolate milk (we only left out eggs.)
After dinner we got out his other present, a splash pad that is hooked up to a hose. He and Ethan had a blast!
Then it was time for cake! I usually make my kids' birthday cakes, but this year we had just come home from a long weekend of fun at the first Fuentes family reunion. So I had to pick from whatever was at the Smith's bakery. To my luck and surprise, there was a cute Sesame Street one. Perfect!
I think that it is the prerogative if every one-year-old to get to eat cake with their hands. When else will he get to do this again? I'm sure that feeling the soft and squishy cake in your hands must be delightful to a little person.
To end a wonderful day, Eli fell asleep in my arms as we all watched "Tangled" together. I took him to his room and couldn't seem to set him down. I sat and watched him sleep in my arms as the room grew darker, so peaceful, so perfect. I almost didn't want the moment to end; I wanted to keep him in my arms and keep the day. The feeling reminded me of a poem I read recently by one of my favorite poets Ted Kooser.
A Happy Birthday
This evening, I sat by an open window
and read till the light was gone and the book
was no more than a part of the darkness.
I could easily have switched on a lamp,
but I wanted to ride this day down into night,
to sit alone and smooth the unreadable page
with the pale gray ghost of my hand.
In one sense, it doesn't seem so long ago that our litte family had only 3 people in it. Ethan was king, commanding nearly every moment of attention between my and Marc's waking hours (and some of the night!) It seems that even less time has passed since the moment I was holding Eli's little body to my chest, still blue and purple as he took his first breaths.
Yet a year has passed. In another sense, it is hard to imagine my days without Eli's sunny smile. He is happy most of the time and loves to laugh. He is patient with Ethan and with me. He is such a joy in our family!
To celebrate a one-year-old's birthday is much easier than an older child. Their likes and joys are so much simpler! Eli would be happy with most things, but it was fun to please him with some of his favorite things. He received a fun toy from us after Ethan went down for his nap, which meant that he got to play with it first all by himself, before Ethan could take over.
For dinner we had some of his favorite foods: fish sticks, fries, strawberries, and chocolate milk (we only left out eggs.)
After dinner we got out his other present, a splash pad that is hooked up to a hose. He and Ethan had a blast!
Then it was time for cake! I usually make my kids' birthday cakes, but this year we had just come home from a long weekend of fun at the first Fuentes family reunion. So I had to pick from whatever was at the Smith's bakery. To my luck and surprise, there was a cute Sesame Street one. Perfect!
I think that it is the prerogative if every one-year-old to get to eat cake with their hands. When else will he get to do this again? I'm sure that feeling the soft and squishy cake in your hands must be delightful to a little person.
To end a wonderful day, Eli fell asleep in my arms as we all watched "Tangled" together. I took him to his room and couldn't seem to set him down. I sat and watched him sleep in my arms as the room grew darker, so peaceful, so perfect. I almost didn't want the moment to end; I wanted to keep him in my arms and keep the day. The feeling reminded me of a poem I read recently by one of my favorite poets Ted Kooser.
A Happy Birthday
This evening, I sat by an open window
and read till the light was gone and the book
was no more than a part of the darkness.
I could easily have switched on a lamp,
but I wanted to ride this day down into night,
to sit alone and smooth the unreadable page
with the pale gray ghost of my hand.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Nothing Gold Can Stay
The past few days I have doing a lot of thinking. I have been thinking a lot about my life and how it has turned out.
I have also thought a lot about how time flies so quickly. The days pass, my babies are growing, and life can seem so cyclical. Each day begins the same, ends the same, and contains much of the same in between. Yet I stop and look around for a minute and I can't believe that some of my precious moments are passing and some even fading a little in my memory. Yesterday I got out a book I made for Ethan from the pictures of his first year. I had to wipe the tears from my face as I looked at my baby, my firstborn, turning the pages and talking with me about what he saw. How is it that it has passed? The first precious days with him are gone.
Ethan one day old
Ethan now
Ethan is so independent now. He has such a determined personality. Sometimes I feel that separateness so completely, from the one who once shared my body, lived in the protection of my womb. Sometimes he reminds me that he is not yet gone my grabbing my face with both hands and giving me a wet kiss.
I remember what life was like 5 years ago before I met Marc. I remember how lonely I was and the uncertainty I had about my future. I didn't know what I was going to do when I graduated. I didn't have any attachments other than family, and I didn't completely know where I wanted to go and who I wanted to be. My aspirations to become a high school English teacher were so close to being realized, yet seemed insufficient and somewhat hollow.
Of course I dreamed about my future life as an adult as a child and as I grew up, and these dreams all contained relationships and ultimately children. I am a very passionate person. I threw all of this into my schooling as my life progressed. Those in my classes knew how strongly I felt about writing, literature, and education. Nevertheless, it didn't matter how many people I was surrounded by in school that were career focused, and even my own aspirations for intellect and work, I knew that home life and children would be my eventual ultimate passion.
It was for this family that I ached and prayed. I waited while my friends and room-mates went on dates, while they got married, and while they had children. I now realize that my wait was not so long, but at the time the pain seemed acute.
I could never have guessed that I would meet Marc that fall and that things would begin rapidly. That in a few short months I would be married, and few more I would be pregnant.
I had friends that I graduated with that began teaching and fulfilling their career dreams. There were a few that were surprised that a person of my passion did not. How could I have explained to them that I knew that this was the time for a person to be created by me? That this, and no other time, was their time to be alive? It was time for me to be a mother. It was time for Ethan to live.
Before I could get too comfortable and consider working again, that same feeling came. My second son Eli's time had come. It was time for him to live.
Elijah one day old
Eli now
Eli's first days have passed too. He crawls, he laughs, he holds onto me. He is a joy.
The days that I wanted so much are here. Do I dare let them pass me by without a thought? I hope I can cherish them more, before they are gone. They will not keep.
Nothing Gold Can Stay
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief.
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
--Robert Frost
I have also thought a lot about how time flies so quickly. The days pass, my babies are growing, and life can seem so cyclical. Each day begins the same, ends the same, and contains much of the same in between. Yet I stop and look around for a minute and I can't believe that some of my precious moments are passing and some even fading a little in my memory. Yesterday I got out a book I made for Ethan from the pictures of his first year. I had to wipe the tears from my face as I looked at my baby, my firstborn, turning the pages and talking with me about what he saw. How is it that it has passed? The first precious days with him are gone.
Ethan is so independent now. He has such a determined personality. Sometimes I feel that separateness so completely, from the one who once shared my body, lived in the protection of my womb. Sometimes he reminds me that he is not yet gone my grabbing my face with both hands and giving me a wet kiss.
I remember what life was like 5 years ago before I met Marc. I remember how lonely I was and the uncertainty I had about my future. I didn't know what I was going to do when I graduated. I didn't have any attachments other than family, and I didn't completely know where I wanted to go and who I wanted to be. My aspirations to become a high school English teacher were so close to being realized, yet seemed insufficient and somewhat hollow.
Of course I dreamed about my future life as an adult as a child and as I grew up, and these dreams all contained relationships and ultimately children. I am a very passionate person. I threw all of this into my schooling as my life progressed. Those in my classes knew how strongly I felt about writing, literature, and education. Nevertheless, it didn't matter how many people I was surrounded by in school that were career focused, and even my own aspirations for intellect and work, I knew that home life and children would be my eventual ultimate passion.
It was for this family that I ached and prayed. I waited while my friends and room-mates went on dates, while they got married, and while they had children. I now realize that my wait was not so long, but at the time the pain seemed acute.
I could never have guessed that I would meet Marc that fall and that things would begin rapidly. That in a few short months I would be married, and few more I would be pregnant.
I had friends that I graduated with that began teaching and fulfilling their career dreams. There were a few that were surprised that a person of my passion did not. How could I have explained to them that I knew that this was the time for a person to be created by me? That this, and no other time, was their time to be alive? It was time for me to be a mother. It was time for Ethan to live.
Before I could get too comfortable and consider working again, that same feeling came. My second son Eli's time had come. It was time for him to live.
Eli's first days have passed too. He crawls, he laughs, he holds onto me. He is a joy.
The days that I wanted so much are here. Do I dare let them pass me by without a thought? I hope I can cherish them more, before they are gone. They will not keep.
Nothing Gold Can Stay
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief.
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
--Robert Frost
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Having Two Kids is Fun and Time Intensive
Guess what. Having two kids is kind of time intensive. I am really amazed by my friends that consistently update their blogs. I even have a friend who is a mother of twins that updates hers at least once a week, though usually more. You rock Val.
I know that I have posted a few times about how I was going to try to post more and nothing ever came of it. Pathetic, I know. This time I am getting my dear husband involved. He has agreed to remind me to post when The kids are asleep or when one is, he will watch the baby. We'll just have to see if this works, I guess.
I have decided to devote this post to something that is easy to talk about. Can I just tell you all how much I love being a mom? It is the hardest thing that I have ever done, by far, but it is the best. I don't think that I ever could have imagined just what it would be like. The other day I made a mental list of all the things that I love about it, and it was pretty long. Here is a condensed version:
1. My children are truly the cutest children in this world. I know that most moms believe this, but I really do. I don't think that it would be possible to convince me otherwise.
2. I get to play with toys again. Ethan loves when I make car noises or stack blocks.
3. My kids think that I am funny. I can be my dorky self and they just love it. My boys laughs are the best.
4. Impromptu dance parties in the living room. 'Nuff said.
5. Children remind you that the world is amazing. They are experiencing everything for the first time, so everything is so wonderful and exciting to them. It is good to remember these things.
6. There is nothing more peaceful and serene than the face of a sleeping child. I love to hold my babies while they sleep.
7. I get to see my husband be sweet, fun, and helpful to my kids. They adore him. It is so great to watch.
8. I get to work on all of my weaknesses, like patience. I mean this one. I need all the help that I can get. I want to be a better person. Serving my little ones helps me with this.
Nothing on this list is glamorous, or exciting, or even very unique. Yet I have spent most of my time doing the things on this list. Isn't that wonderful?
The other things I have been doing I will use other posts to talk about (hopefully). Things like moving to Duchesne, Utah, of all places, sending siblings off on missions, and learning new things.
Till next time,
Amy
I know that I have posted a few times about how I was going to try to post more and nothing ever came of it. Pathetic, I know. This time I am getting my dear husband involved. He has agreed to remind me to post when The kids are asleep or when one is, he will watch the baby. We'll just have to see if this works, I guess.
I have decided to devote this post to something that is easy to talk about. Can I just tell you all how much I love being a mom? It is the hardest thing that I have ever done, by far, but it is the best. I don't think that I ever could have imagined just what it would be like. The other day I made a mental list of all the things that I love about it, and it was pretty long. Here is a condensed version:
1. My children are truly the cutest children in this world. I know that most moms believe this, but I really do. I don't think that it would be possible to convince me otherwise.
2. I get to play with toys again. Ethan loves when I make car noises or stack blocks.
3. My kids think that I am funny. I can be my dorky self and they just love it. My boys laughs are the best.
4. Impromptu dance parties in the living room. 'Nuff said.
5. Children remind you that the world is amazing. They are experiencing everything for the first time, so everything is so wonderful and exciting to them. It is good to remember these things.
6. There is nothing more peaceful and serene than the face of a sleeping child. I love to hold my babies while they sleep.
7. I get to see my husband be sweet, fun, and helpful to my kids. They adore him. It is so great to watch.
8. I get to work on all of my weaknesses, like patience. I mean this one. I need all the help that I can get. I want to be a better person. Serving my little ones helps me with this.
Nothing on this list is glamorous, or exciting, or even very unique. Yet I have spent most of my time doing the things on this list. Isn't that wonderful?
The other things I have been doing I will use other posts to talk about (hopefully). Things like moving to Duchesne, Utah, of all places, sending siblings off on missions, and learning new things.
Till next time,
Amy
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Baby Eli is here!
Well folks today, June 12, was my due date. Was.
Thankfully, instead of being in labor right now, I am holding my sweet 2 week old son in my arms.
Everything went great, but was not according to plan at all. I shouldn't be surprised by this, since a lot of my life happens this way, but I feel better when I have a plan. I was visiting Marc's parents in Manti for Memorial Day weekend when I went into labor. The strangest part is, I was warned in a way. The night before we drove to Manti I had a dream that I was in labor at Marc's parents'. In the dream my mother-in-law said, "I guess you'll just have to have your baby at my hospital." She works as a nurse at San Pete Valley hospital. I also had felt that my baby would come early, but dismissed it as wishful thinking.
The night before I hardly slept a wink on a thin mattress. In the morning, I thought I was having Braxton-Hicks contractions until I realized they were starting to be pretty regular, 10 minutes apart. I was in denial though. I wanted to have my baby with my doctor in St. George. I wanted things to go according to plan. I kept telling everyone that it was no big deal. DENIAL.
Around 6 that evening, there was no denying it any longer. The contractions were getting more intense and now were 5 minutes apart. I told Marc, "I think this is the real thing. It actually is the real thing!" Luckily, my mother-in-law knew exactly which doctor was on call that weekend, Dr. Armstrong. Not only is he the family doctor that saw Marc growing up, but Marc is also friends with his kids. That's Manti for you. We called him at home to come to the clinic and check things out. I cried on the way there. I just kept saying, "I don't want have my baby. I'm not ready! We don't have any clothes or anything!" When Dr. Armstrong took a look, he didn't waste any time. He told Marc to drive responsibly, but that we needed to get to the hospital right away. The baby was coming whether we liked it or not!
The drive to the hospital is half an hour. I called my family and told them what was going on, and they couldn't believe it. My wonderful father helped me to stop crying about the situation by reminding me that though it wasn't according to plan, it would all be okay. He even added his new mantra: "It's just adversity." He and the rest of my family helped me to get through contractions and even made me laugh. They even called my sister in N.C. and held up the phones to each other so we could talk. Here are the pictures that they took to chronicle the situation:
We pulled into the emergency entrance and a nurse with a wheelchair was waiting. It was a slow day at the hospital, and here we came with plenty for everyone to talk about and do! We went straight to the delivery room and got down to business. Dr. Armstrong was hot on our heels, and arrived a few minutes later. A few minutes after him, my mother-in-law arrived. Dr. Armstrong said that I would be ready to push very soon. With a marvelous nurse on my left and my husband and mother-in-law on the right, the moment had come. I pushed and they all saw some red hair! About 40 minutes from admittance, we had our second son.
7 lbs even, 18 inches long. Auburn hair! Perfect.
This little guy decided to convenience everyone by coming on a holiday weekend. None of my siblings at home had to work, and they came to visit the next day, bringing Marc's sister with them. Marc had work off as well, which we had been worried that he wouldn't when the baby came. It was also great to have people to babysit Ethan while all of this was going on.
I had forgotten how much peace a newborn can bring into a home. They are just so small and sweet and sleepy. We love him so very much and look forward to getting to know his personality and see him interact with his brother.
Thankfully, instead of being in labor right now, I am holding my sweet 2 week old son in my arms.
Everything went great, but was not according to plan at all. I shouldn't be surprised by this, since a lot of my life happens this way, but I feel better when I have a plan. I was visiting Marc's parents in Manti for Memorial Day weekend when I went into labor. The strangest part is, I was warned in a way. The night before we drove to Manti I had a dream that I was in labor at Marc's parents'. In the dream my mother-in-law said, "I guess you'll just have to have your baby at my hospital." She works as a nurse at San Pete Valley hospital. I also had felt that my baby would come early, but dismissed it as wishful thinking.
The night before I hardly slept a wink on a thin mattress. In the morning, I thought I was having Braxton-Hicks contractions until I realized they were starting to be pretty regular, 10 minutes apart. I was in denial though. I wanted to have my baby with my doctor in St. George. I wanted things to go according to plan. I kept telling everyone that it was no big deal. DENIAL.
Around 6 that evening, there was no denying it any longer. The contractions were getting more intense and now were 5 minutes apart. I told Marc, "I think this is the real thing. It actually is the real thing!" Luckily, my mother-in-law knew exactly which doctor was on call that weekend, Dr. Armstrong. Not only is he the family doctor that saw Marc growing up, but Marc is also friends with his kids. That's Manti for you. We called him at home to come to the clinic and check things out. I cried on the way there. I just kept saying, "I don't want have my baby. I'm not ready! We don't have any clothes or anything!" When Dr. Armstrong took a look, he didn't waste any time. He told Marc to drive responsibly, but that we needed to get to the hospital right away. The baby was coming whether we liked it or not!
The drive to the hospital is half an hour. I called my family and told them what was going on, and they couldn't believe it. My wonderful father helped me to stop crying about the situation by reminding me that though it wasn't according to plan, it would all be okay. He even added his new mantra: "It's just adversity." He and the rest of my family helped me to get through contractions and even made me laugh. They even called my sister in N.C. and held up the phones to each other so we could talk. Here are the pictures that they took to chronicle the situation:
We pulled into the emergency entrance and a nurse with a wheelchair was waiting. It was a slow day at the hospital, and here we came with plenty for everyone to talk about and do! We went straight to the delivery room and got down to business. Dr. Armstrong was hot on our heels, and arrived a few minutes later. A few minutes after him, my mother-in-law arrived. Dr. Armstrong said that I would be ready to push very soon. With a marvelous nurse on my left and my husband and mother-in-law on the right, the moment had come. I pushed and they all saw some red hair! About 40 minutes from admittance, we had our second son.
7 lbs even, 18 inches long. Auburn hair! Perfect.
This little guy decided to convenience everyone by coming on a holiday weekend. None of my siblings at home had to work, and they came to visit the next day, bringing Marc's sister with them. Marc had work off as well, which we had been worried that he wouldn't when the baby came. It was also great to have people to babysit Ethan while all of this was going on.
I had forgotten how much peace a newborn can bring into a home. They are just so small and sweet and sleepy. We love him so very much and look forward to getting to know his personality and see him interact with his brother.
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