Thursday, August 25, 2016

Late last night.

She couldn't sleep, and that is weird. Georgia has always been a good sleeper. (And I write that at my peril, seeing as I don't want to be jinxed.) Holding her, shushing her, swaying her - all a no go. All ANTI-go's. She thrashed and cried louder. Finally I just sat her on the ground to collect my thoughts and sat next to her, my back against her crib. She sobbed a little, then crawled a step to me and collapsed her head on my leg. I felt my patience restore and ran my fingers up and down her little back. She crawled into my lap. I started singing to her. She looked up at me, her look. That forever "Georgia" look. I gathered her up, she wrapped her short legs around my waist and laid her head on my chest while I wrapped her Blankie around us both and sang the songs I sang when she was tiny(er.) She wasn't falling asleep and I didn't care. Song after song after song. Sitting on the ground, legs going numb, back reminding me what a bad condition its in, but I couldn't break the spell. She hasn't been a cuddly baby since she was in the womb and I'd learned to accept it. Tonight was special. Every once in awhile she'd pop up, with groggy eyes and sleepy smile, wave and say "i-aye" and crash her head against my chest again feigning sslumbe. The give away is always that girls feet. She dances even sitting still, wiggling and pointing her toes. When I took a deep breath, she'd mimic me and we'd laugh a little. She started getting heavy and her breaths grew even and hypnotic. I knew she'd be unhappy if I just tried to put her back in that crib, so I took her down the stairs and showed her the sleeping house. Opened the door and she waved bye-bye to the sleeping street and trees. She waved nightnight to the tv where I'm pretty sure she thinks Daniel Tiger lives. Blankie was waiting in her bed, with Bear, and her night light's glow. Now I'm lying in bed with Jon deeply asleep and no sounds from upstairs in that little colorful room. I'm happy. In daily life I know I miss opportunities, but I didn't miss that one, and that one mattered a lot.

Wednesday, October 28, 2015


I'm laying on my living room floor, playing with my five-month old baby when I realize I never posted the entry I wrote about a month after her birth. So here it is. Fair warning, it IS a birth story, though I don't think I'm leaving in any weird or gory details.

I remember standing in that bathroom. It was morning and I was staring at that little plus sign. I couldn't believe it. I only took the test on a whim, this weird feeling that said, "just do it." And there it was. There she was, though I didn't know it. I didn't know what to do, I sat on the edge of the tub, I jumped up and down, I started shaking with adrenaline. When I finally was able to tell Jonathan we held each other, laughed, and (I) cried. All through those nine months it'd hit me at random times during the day, "Oh my gosh, I'm going to be a mom."

I thought the same thing that Wednesday night when around midnight I finally laid down to go to sleep. That first contraction hit me like a train. It took the breath right out of me, and I knew that instant, this is it. After a few hours at home and letting Jon get some sleep, the nurse told us to come in. I was sure we'd be sent home after an evaluation, it didn't feel like things were progressing enough, but we didn't leave that room for the next 16 hours. I remember walking around and around that room, looking out across the valley, trying to remember to breathe and be calm and save my energy. I would set weird goals to see how much I could take. It was kind of stupid, but it was a good way to pass the time. Laying in bed was impossible, the pain was tripled compared to walking around. Then the sky slowly started to lighten. That's how I marked the time passing, I remember refusing to look at the clock, I would just notice the changes in the sky.

Around the time the sun started to rise, we were informed that my doctor's on-call shift was about to end. They were going to call him and tell him my situation so he could give instruction as to what he wanted them to do for me. The nurse left and I felt a little let down, but I knew I'd have to let it go quick if I was going to stay focused on what had to be done.

Those hours were a blur. I know the pain was crazy, but I wasn't that worried about it. My doctor gave instruction to break my water because I wasn't progressing quickly enough. After almost 9 hours I got the epidural, which was a breeze! Too many women like to tell horror stories about the needle, but that guy was in and out in no time, and I was left sitting there like.....'s done?? I still felt pretty much everything except for pain which was the sweet spot. Woot! Woot!

Dark clouds came and covered valley a few hours later. I was steadily progressing. This was the boring part. Nurses came and went through this whole event, and I don't even remember the most of it. I remember a ton of ice chips being handed to me, but after three months of craving them like a crazy person, I had no interest. The cups piled up on my side table and I watched the little line graphs go up and down. Every  time I saw a contraction I kept thinking, "Hah! Sucker, you don't even hurt." I missed the yoga ball, but I was comfortable. Later on in this stage we were told that even though my doctor was on his day off, he was coming in to deliver Georgia anyway. (He lives just down the street for a reason.)  Insert huge smile from me!

It was raining by the time I was ready to push. All was calm, just Jon and the delivery nurse (who turned out to be the sister of a friend!) with me as the rain pelted down. I stared out the window between the first few pushes and tried to keep up conversation with them, but after a awhile I stopped responding to whatever it was that they were discussing. (Medical school. Pshh. Figures). Two flipping hours, but it felt like no time at all. I got scared in that time. A big part didn't want to push anymore because my mind kept telling me it was impossible! There was no way this was physically possible! I had to sort it out in my mind that it had to happen, but I was so tired.

At this point I have to stress, I have a deep respect for nurses and all they do. They are incredible and I loved mine like family that day. But I have to tell you, there was no relief so great as when I saw my doctor walk in. I know. He wasn't there all night, coaching me, getting me what I wanted to sip, and laughing at my stupid jokes, but he walked in and I was so happy to see him. If not for any other reason, he's a stake president and if anything went wrong, I had two awesome men there to give me or the baby a blessing if we needed it. I remember him grabbing my arm and looking in my eyes, "You're going to do this. All you."

I am not kidding when I say this; It was raining buckets until the very second Jon said, "Baby, she's almost here!" Right then the clouds broke and the sun came streaming in. I remember because I was trying desperately to keep my eyes open. I didn't want to miss a second of seeing my girl. The cord was wrapped around her neck so Jon had to cut it before she was completely out. Then there she was. They brought her up to me so I could hold her on my chest. She was screaming a little, then she opened her eyes and we just kinda looked at each other while they cleaned her a bit. They had to take her after a minute to check her over and to deal with me. I laid there watching Jon follow the nurse around and carrying Gee from place to place. I was so happy for him, a new dad. When they were done and we could have some alone time as a family of three, I loved watching him hold her. I was shaking so bad from the adrenaline I was afraid I wouldn't be able to hold her safely, but I forced myself to get over it so I could have that miracle of a girl in my arms again.

Now five months later, I feel like I've learned a lot, but its not the kind of knowledge that has any use beyond my little world. I know the exact spot of Georgia's forehead to rub that makes her close her eyes and do that cute half-smile that normally puts her to sleep. I know the difference between the grunts that mean "sleepy" and "hungry." I know that breastfeeding did NOT come naturally to me, but by sheer force of will, we got it down. I know which songs to sing to her at bedtime, and that if all else fails, "Hush-a-bye Mountain" is her favorite. I feel like I know everything and nothing. It's pretty cool and very humbling. The one thing I know is that Jon and I are blessed beyond compare. I know in a new way how important covenants, temples, and eternal families are. I was given the chance to be with the most wonderful guy in the world, we have a beautiful daughter, and we hope we can add more kids to our pack in time to come. :)

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

New title for me...

I'm a stay-at-home-almost-mom for the time being. It's odd. Being home all day is challenging for me as it turns out. I have found a couple places to apply where work would be okay for a woman in her third trimester of pregnancy. One place actually really wants a resume from me, despite the fact that I'd be leaving so soon, which is flattering.

In the mean time I try to stay productive, mainly with making our new place a home. The most difficult hurdle is not being able to paint as we are renting. I find myself admitting defeat to the white walls and, luckily, the one wall in wood paneling. My mom even informed me that its the "really posh kind" of wood paneling (whatever that means) they used back in the day that cost a lot. So there it remains behind our T.V. for me to sigh at for the next few years. Most challenging right now is finding curtains and rod for our 6.5 foot long window that won't cost a billion dollars, but still look good. The white blinds are killing my spirit.

I went so long without a kitchen of my own that I relish in mine now. I used to shrink at the idea of doing dishes at all, but now I do them every morning and night without a dishwasher. A full drainboard full of sparkly dishes is a heavenly sight. (We can take bets later on how longs that lasts after baby comes.)(And I just realized I'm an old lady.)

I do pointless crafts. Exhibit A -

Okay, those closest to me will look at this painting and think this is too beyond my skill level. And they'd be right. This is the most extreme "paint by numbers' thing I have ever seen. Maybe I don't peruse the craft store enough.... But seriously, the majority of this was painted with one of those stupidly thin paint brushes and it's the size of a normal poster. Conveniently for me, the only skills you really need to do this is a steady hand and... to not be color blind. Time to kill is also required, about two weeks worth. Knowing your numbers helps too, I suppose. 

Here's where I would show you Exhibit B, but it doesn't exist. Since finishing the above painting, I find myself staring at the wall thinking, "What the heck do I do now?" I would work on the blessing gown I had mentioned in a previous post, but a tragedy has befallen it. It was accidentally put through the wash and the stitches all puckered. I did shed some tears over it. I could start over, but every time I take it out of the closet I feel sick and put it away. 

What else... Ooh! I'm going to the library tomorrow to get my very own library card! Yes!

(Ahh, Arthur, who knew you'd be so relevant through all of life?) I haven't had a card in over a decade. Yay, books! Yay, time to actually GO to the library and sift through the history section at my leisure! I have a list a foot long of all the books I want to look for. I just hope I can sit or lay down long enough to actually read through them. I just can't get enough air sometimes with baby growing so quickly. I have to move a lot to keeps my lungs happy. I know its normal, but 12 more weeks is seeming like a long while to not breathe.

Speaking of baby, I have another appointment this Friday. I'm getting another full anatomy scan for her since I switched doctors in such a busy time. My new doctor put it as, "I want to get to know her too." Aww. Look at him making up crap for me! How nice of him. I'm excited to see her again so soon. Not excited for the accompanying shots and blood drawing. UGH. And don't give me the, "If you can't handle that, good luck with an epidural or even having a baby." Hush you. I get a baby out of all that pain. I know that's worth it, so that doesn't even bother me. I don't even get a sucker out of the needles now. (It's okay though, I always lie and say I need a juice box. Mwahahahahaha.)

But in the real and less dramatic world, things are looking brighter. Jonathan scored an awesome job as the warehouse foreman for a pretty cool company up here. His own office and such, but he gets to get his hands dirty helping his team when they need him, which I know he secretly loves. I'm really happy for him.

Pregnancy yoga. No joke. Best thing ever. I'm totally the person who gets into my special yoga clothes and closes her eyes during the prayer pose. I'm not quite the person who says "namaste" back to the British chick on my laptop, even though there's an awkward pause for me to do so. I'm solidly not that person. Unless Jon's around, in which case I'll say it zealously and make him laugh.

Baby's kicking like crazy, so I know this is the time she would normally be keeping me up, so I should get myself to bed. Or maybe she's very aware that all the necessities needed for taking care of her have yet to make it to her nursery. Whoops. Yeah, I'm pretty far behind. Up until last week, all we had were three onesies,  a bath toy I got as a favor from my friend's baby shower, and a glider rocking chair that was given to me by a lovely friend in our new ward. "Whoops" indeed. Here's to the baby shower, and the last minute rushing for everything else!


Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Moving On.

   I should be the cool person and actually call this post something like ADVENTURE AHEAD or YAY I'M NOT SCARED AT ALL!!! -- but I can't. We're moving to Logan, and yes, anyone who knows Utah is at this moment thinking, "Sooooo?" I realize that a two hour drive north is nothing compared to cross country/oceans moves, but this move is the first stepping stone.
   Jon's going to Utah State to get his next degree. My plan for me was to start in on History and Literature, but Baby Girl decided mom can wait a couple years. After this, Jon's off to the Air Force and medical school. Jon has this crazy idea that cutting people open and playing with their insides is really cool. But considering the fact that his dream job used to be a front-line medic, I can live with him occasionally showing me videos of surgeries. Also, he has a real desire to help people and care for them, so that makes me a happy woman. It's a great plan for us and our future family, and I hope and pray that everything we hope for will come to us in the Lord's own time. 
   I really hate moving though. So much. And moving is a large part of any involvement with the armed forces. Logan isn't far away, but its the first step towards moving farther and farther away. Who knows where we'll be in five or ten years? I just don't want to look back on Salt Lake/Utah as my only home. I want to make our home wherever we go. That's the goal I guess, and I think I'll get there eventually.Happy thoughts.
   Let's see... I'm excited to have a bigger place. It's twice the size of our apartment and it's in a cute part of town. Closet spa-a-a-a-ace! Jon can have a room all to himself to study and work in. We get to go to the Logan temple often. I get to decorate our baby's nursery. Football games next season! A new ward, (always a bonus in my opinion). My mom loves Logan and short road trips, so this will give her an excuse. The best part is knowing that there are a bunch of bright-sides about living in Logan that I don't even know about, so that means its true for almost anywhere else in our future too. Besides, it being Jonathan and our lives together makes it so worth it. I never imagined myself planning this kind of future, but its worth it just being with him and having our little family. <3 p="">
   I'm making too big a deal out of this, right? Yeah, I think so too. :)

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

The Little Hampton.

Here SHE is!!

     I can't believe how much I love her. Oh my word. I can't get enough of these pictures. I always thought that ultrasound pictures were just kinda weird looking, but I melt every time I look at them. She's just the most beautiful thing ever, (even if the little stinker was in a funny position the entire time just to make things difficult...) We didn't know that we'd be finding out the sex of the baby that day, but my doctor is amazing and she got us in earlier than we thought. We were looking at blurred pictures until we heard the technician say "Oh, there we have it!" and she typed DADDY'S GIRL on the screen. I couldn't believe it, I was shocked and I couldn't do anything but say "Really?" and squeeze Jon's hand. (Jon mentioned that any boy coming near her would get a talking to). I couldn't stop giggling through it all, but on our way back to the office, I had to stop in the hallway to cry! Luckily, I had Jon to hold me and make me laugh. It doesn't need saying, but we are so, so blessed. Everything is looking good and she's a healthy little thing.

Just one more....

    That's her hand in between her knees. Just chillin'. Oh man. I'm dying from a need to kiss that little hand.


    Since it's a girl, I've started work on a blessing dress. Most of the dresses Jon and I have looked at in stores just looked so uncomfortable and stiff, though very cute. So I decided I would make one myself, something soft and old-fashioned. Plus, I get to put my self-taught embroidery skills to the test! I'm also very into the idea of passing things down, so I want her to have something from this very special day. Here's just the medallions I've done so far....


    A trained eye (probably my sweetest Grandma Bev, who was my inspiration for wanting to learn to embroider (she has very pretty pillows)) would probably look at this and say, "Aww, look at her, trying her best. Bless her heart." But I'm loving doing it anyway! It's so calming and such a good past-time. The whole dress will be done in white-work, or at least as much as I can get done by May. The only problem is with the pregnancy hormones raging through my body like vikings on parade, I cry quite often while I'm stitching. Really, all it takes is to imagine Jon taking our daughter up to be blessed and hearing him say her beautiful name.

    Ugh. My heart. I want to see him hold her more than anything really. I'm worried about being a first time mom, all the mistakes and anxieties lurking before me, but I have no worries about him becoming a father. It's written in his hands, he's just built for it. (Great...I'm gonna cry....)

   Well, there it is. Life isn't at all what we tell the internet it is, is it? There's so much more to it. All those little moments passed in the calm, or the tears shed, the smiles that get kissed. I don't quite blame people sharing their moments on Facebook and such, I don't think it is all purely for the glory of likes and views. Sometimes it's more of a desperation to save moments. But I find myself unsatisfied when I do share those little quips and pictures. Nothing I say can really describe the moment or the feelings. But Her, this little being whose only pictures are fuzzy and kind of funny, she's what I get to share with the world, help her to avoid the bad and love the light. Just a girl, and she'll be able to capture all that life and long-gone moments just by existing. It's crazy.

Thursday, August 21, 2014

Six Months.

Today was our six month anniversary. I never thought that a six month mile-marker would mean so much to me, but I DO care! I just can't believe its already been that long, and it might be the most common thing to hear but, "This year had gone by so fast." I can't help but think it almost every day. When I think of where I was a year ago, I want to cringe and then laugh. I haven't really told many people the full story and I really want a record of it written down somewhere so I can remember the dorky details of when I met my husband. 

We met at church in the YSA ward. Jonathan first showed up one June day. I was dating another guy at the time, wrapped up in a little summer romance. I remember sitting in church next to this guy and probably with other friends, but I can barely remember. Some guy in the front row was drawing all my focus. I couldn't even see his face, but I was so fascinated by him. He sat up so straight, it was amazingly attractive. And those shoulders....dang! I just wanted to know him so badly, but he got a calling in his home ward and off he went before I could even learn his name. 

Early 2013 I was dating the next guy, and the man I called "Shoulders" came back! That was a little annoying. Every time he showed his face I wasn't allowed to flirt with him. It wasn't until that summer I put myself out there. I tried and failed to get him to talk to me, but he didn't take the bait until he started coming to our friend's game nights. (I made sure to stand next to him during Murder in the Dark...he held my hand. giggle!) And so the shy awkward flirting progressed.

Two of our lovely friends invited us to sleep out on the parade route the night before Pioneer Day. He spend the night shamelessly working for my attention and trying to make me blush, and when that didn't work, he flat out asked to kiss me. I said no. :) Sucker. Two days later we had our first official date. He brought me lilies and roses, then took me to a concert downtown. "Flaming Lips," the kind of band that wears patterned spandex and spits fire at their crowd. It was awesome. 

I'm a sucker for cheesy pick-up lines, and Jon sure used a good one when he said goodbye at the doorstep. "You're about to have your last first kiss." And no hesitation, he kissed me. All I can remember was thinking, "I'm good with that."  :D SOOOO CHEESY, RIGHT?? I loved it. All that followed was dates and talking late into the night. I dragged him down to St.George with me to my niece's blessing to see how some other family liked him. (I think my brothers didn't a few of the guys I dated in the past, so I had to be sure, and of course it went wonderfully.) Time went by and we found ourselves at a ring store. We found "the one." That night he asked my father's permission while me and mom sat on the back porch. I peaked in through the window only twice to see them deep in conversation and then a manly hug. I cried. September 6th came along and we were downtown.  We went to all our favorite places, and he took me up into an empty ballroom in the Joseph Smith Memorial Building, where we danced. Temple square was pretty much empty and it was perfect. He took me down to The South fountain and proposed. He'll tell you that I ran away from him, I DID NOT! I was shocked and took a few steps back! It took me a few minutes to stop laughing and crying to say yes, but I did and it was wonderful. 

We were married on February 21st in the Salt Lake Temple. I'll never forget sitting next to him in the Celestial Room waiting to be sealed. It was more than I ever hoped for. 

Right now are plans are pretty much set for the next few years. In January we're moving up to Logan to go to school and Jon will be joining the Air Force and going through medical school. It will be an adventure, whatever happens. I'm just so happy to have him by my side. 

End of the mushy post. :)

Sunday, July 20, 2014

I'm taking my stand.

I have something to say, and yes, I'm reviving my unused and forgotten blog to say it. This subject is volcanic, but so am I. Anyone who knows me knows that the things I believe are close to my heart and I am very passionate about them. Being lukewarm is something I don't really do. So forgive (if you deem necessary) this heated post about a subject that I would think every woman has strong opinions about. 

To begin...
"Big girls are the only real women." 
"Skinny means unhealthy."
"Thin girls look like little boys."

I can't describe the amount of anger that rushes to me when I read these words. The real kicker is when these memes and pictures or "quotes" are shared across the internet by people who call themselves my friends.

Let me give you some background. 

I'm a thin girl, always have been. I'm also 5'10". I inherited this body-type almost completely from my grandmother, who also was thin all her life.  I have a slightly high metabolism.
People would say I'm bragging when sharing this. I'm not. People mostly say, "Lucky," but in a very pandering way. I was teased growing up. Kids made up lies about me being anorexic or bulimic when I was so young, I didn't even know what those words meant. Needless to say, I lost friends over this. I had no intention of wasting my time with girls who hurt others. It took years for me to forgive these girls, but I truly did for one simple fact; we were GIRLS. We hadn't yet learned how to express ourselves or how our words can affect our peers.

That's why this new fad of thin-bashing gets to me so bad. WE SHOULD BE OVER THIS. I thought people had learned enough during puberty, during those crazy teenage and early adult years that pointing fingers and making fun of others only makes you look worse. I mean, how dare you make fun of anyone for how they look? I cannot claim to have been perfect in this area of course. While growing and learning we all fall prey to trying to make ourselves feel better by making someone else feel worse. But I do also have to say that I have done my utmost to never do that again. I will never forget how sad it made me as a ten year old girl to realize why I was being made fun of. I relive that pain every time I see or read one of those statement on the internet, especially when posted by my friends.

I understand. These things were probably posted out of a show of trying to show a front of confidence or strength. Trying to show that we've left the old ways of thinking of ONLY skinny is beautiful and womanly. I wish it were true. If we had truly gained confidence in ourselves as women, "skinny" and "thin" would not be used in a negative sense. The saying "Only real women have curves" would be as outdated as corsets. Real women do not tear others down. Real women build each other up. Real women have confidence enough to work on their characters and keep their dignity, not throw it away the first chance they get just to look better than someone else. 

Same thing goes for men. Men have as much heart and soul as we. They should not be looked on as too skinny, not fit enough, not tall enough, therefore, unmanly. The only thing in my book that judges the "manly" scale is how he treats his peers. (I wish I could write as impassioned as I do about the Women thing, but I don't have much experience in being a man so...sorry.) 

I love you my friends. I know I'm not perfect, but let me tell you something. 
I'm healthy. I'm strong. My heart is in wonderful condition. I am blessed beyond measure in these aspects and I thank God regularly for it. Yes, I weigh 113 lbs. But the next person who stoops low enough to exclaim, "You're too skinny," "I could break you in half," or "You should eat something." --Shame on you, and I will forever be that advocate that every BODY has beauty. The frame and shape is merely that, a shell. What is held inside is as deep and ponderous as the universe, and just as beautiful. Please stop hurting others for not being the same as you. Find the validation in yourself, for yourself, to be yourself. No one else needs your approval to look the way they do, and you don't need theirs. 

**End note- To avoid confusion, I do believe in healthy self improvement. Whatever makes you healthy and happy - do. I'll back you up. :)