Comedy and chocolate everywhere

I'm thinking a lot about my baby and what I am doing to help her grow. At church this past Sunday, we had a male teacher in our Young Women class, which was the first time I'd ever had this happen to me, in all my years as a girl and a leader in YW. He went around the room and spoke to each girl, made her laugh, asked her name, asked her something interesting about her week. At first, I wanted to signal to the clock and say, okay bro, don't you know we only have twenty minutes left, get to your lesson, but he surprised me. After each person had said their name and highlight of the week, he explained that at church, "in Zion," we often focus on doctrine and repentance and ordinances and scripture. Which are all critical aspects of growing oneself in one's religion. But Zion, he said, is about people, it's about relationships and understanding and compassion and growth. And I realized how meaningful it was to me when a whole room full of people asked and wanted to know how my week was, and listened when I told them something that made me happy. It made me feel loved by my Father and Mother in Heaven. The rest of class we talked about why women are important, what makes women important, and why we each love being a woman. I said I love being a woman because of my great capacity for sacrifice. Which is something I have learned as a mother. Because it seems that everything I've learned in life has happened as a mother, apparently.

There are parts of being a mother that everyone talks about. There are other parts that people don't talk about as much, but not really anymore, since our culture is so willing to bare all. One thing that I always heard about, that people always seemed to be blogging and posting and publishing and reminiscing about, is these little moments that happen. These moments when you just look at your kid and you're so in love with them. I heard about those and thought they seemed nice, prior to becoming a mom. It was impossible for me to internalize them because I had no context, at the time. But now, those moments happen to me. Not all day long, but one or two a day maybe, if I'm paying attention. This morning I was just feeding my daughter and watching her, and we randomly started laughing at each other, and it was like a miracle happened. As I observed her observing me, and understanding the joy of comedy, it was incredible. To anyone else reading this, it probably doesn't make sense, or I am probably not properly recounting the moment. But it was magic and I'll never forget that feeling of "This is exactly why being a mother is divine."

Aaannnnddddd because there seem to be so very many moments where we are kind of in survival mode, here are some photographs of my child the mess. Yes, I stopped and shot some film before hosing her down because ALL good mothers would. Right?

For heaven's sake

Our baby bunny is about to turn one year old and I need to write it all down. Here I go. 

Lately she is less of a baby and more of a person. Like a full on person. She likes jokes. She has unique posture. She's kind of bossy. Church is not her favorite place. Swinging on the swings is her favorite thing on any planet in any universe. She responds to her full name and her nickname. SOMEHOW SHE LOVES LEMONS. 

I like letting her explore her world. I tell myself it's okay to let her do that while I focus on emails or editing or 100 other things I have to do staring at this screen. Hopefully she knows I love her? Hopefully she will always want to hang out with me like she does now. I've already decided a lot of things I want to teach her, how I want to teach them, when, why, how often, with or without humor, alone or with her siblings. Things like being kind, being creative, using fear to keep you safe, what modesty means, what covenants mean, what I believe about this life and the life to come. 

Kindness is the most important attribute a person can possess. It is something she has taught me uniquely and now that I am a mother I am so much more focused on being kind. My dad recently taught me that his dad taught him, "John, in life always extend as much mercy as you possibly can." That is written on my brain right now and I want to write it on hers. Every person on the planet--me, my landlord, Barack Obama, my mother, her mother, her mother, supermodels, homeless people--every person was born, through a woman's body, in the most immense amount of focus and pain and emotion imaginable in a few human seconds. Everyone. And everyone's mother looked and them and thought, what in the world has just happened. This? This is a miracle. It's impossible and incredible and I don't know what to say. And that's why we must all be kind. Because women. 

Women, who are so often treated weirdly or badly, in my culture, in other cultures. Women who uplift and laugh and dedicate thousands upon thousands of hours to the betterment of themselves and the people they love and the earth they live on. Women who cruelly cut down others and themselves because they believe other women have set up a standard to which we must adhere very exactly in order to be desired. I want Eleanor to be a woman who loves caring for other women, emotionally and literally. I want Eleanor to be a woman who knows her own divine worth, and does not worry whether her choice of clothing will affect another person's thoughts, but rather looks in the mirror and says, "Do I look happy? Do I feel happy? Am I comfortable? Would I feel comfortable wearing this in the presence of the people I love most in the world?" Because that's what makes beauty, and that's what makes modesty. Not skin or shoulders or floor length or cover-ups or standards. Modesty and femininity are determined by an individual woman, not by a rule book or the mistakes a boy might make. I want Eleanor to know that in her bones, I want her to know it so well that it would seem silly if anything else were argued to be true. 

I want her to know that messes are okay, cleaning up is important, struggling is part of it, creating something you're really proud of is magical, sharing creative things is scary but so very rewarding, that there will always be someone more clever, someone who has done it before, someone who thinks your work or your style is stupid. But you create anyway. Because your creativity is god-given. And mother-given, thank you very much. I will give you the finger paint and the silk flowers and the glue gun and the fabric scraps and the paper and pencils and cameras and palettes and nail polish and scissors.

All of these things are so much a part of me, and I feel that she is so much a part of me as well, that I am desperate and giddy to teach her all of this. I'm in a rush and I'm taking my time, I'm thrilled and freaked out, but beyond all I just love her. That's all. Here I go.

SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS

Let me begin with this video because it's funny even while slightly obnoxious.

To parents who choose to forego vaccines, I'm curious if you're as fearful as I am of your kid catching the measles? Does it worry you that your baby might get exposed to polio? Forget all the other children in the world that you're putting at risk, I'm just wondering if you worry about your OWN KIDS catching diseases long-eradicated. 

Also, I'm wondering if you require your kids to wash their hands. If so, why? Are you concerned about germs? 

Don't really see the difference. 

In the meantime, if you don't have your shots, stay away from my kid.

Mother things and other things

I have been keeping a journal of Eleanor's life elsewhere, but here I am again and the internet doesn't have enough stuff on it, yet does it? Here's some more, even though it's been a while.

Mother Mag is one of my biggest "mom treats" these days. I love them. I eat up pretty much every article they write and instagram they post. It's as though we are in middle school and I am me and they are that bright friendly girl that always made my day when she said hi to me during PE because she was so cool. They're that. Read them.

These quotes and images really touched me today. Eleanor is sleeping as I write this, and somehow I magically got the apartment tidied slightly more than usual before 9 am, and I'm 80% caught up on emails. I wonder how these quotes and images will affect others, with and without children, with and without a passion for photography. Today when I looked at them, I took my time. Instead of just clicking/ scrolling through as I do with so many hundreds of others photos each day, I looked for myself in each one. And these quotes from women of all kinds really spoke to me as well.

Hope this means something to someone.

XO

"Motherhood has a very humanizing effect. Everything gets reduced to essentials," said Meryl Streep.

"When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child," said Sophia Loren.

"Over the years, I learned so much from mom. She taught me about the importance of home and history and family and tradition. She also taught me that aging need not mean narrowing the scope of your activities and interests, or a diminution of the great pleasures to be had in the everyday," said Martha Stewart.

"I think every working mom probably feels the same thing: You go through big chunks of time where you're just thinking, 'This is impossible — oh, this is impossible.' And then you just keep going and keep going, and you sort of do the impossible," said Tina Fey.

"Motherhood is the biggest gamble in the world. It is the glorious life force. It’s huge and scary–it’s an act of infinite optimism," said Gilda Radner.

"A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path," said Agatha Christie.

"Motherhood is the most completely humbling experience I've ever had. It puts you in your place, because it really forces you to address the issues that you claim to believe in—and if you can't stand up to those principles when you're raising a child, forget it," said Diane Keaton.

"A mother is one to whom you hurry when you are troubled," said Emily Dickinson.

all images and quotes via Mother Mag

So the other day at Target...

First and foremost, nothing against Target. In fact, I really love that place. 

I mean, I'm a Target RedCard holder. I bleed Target red.

BUT.

The other day, I had a very odd experience there. 

My baby had her vaccines on Thursday, so on Friday things were still just a little off with her. She had been great all through my errands, and we were buzzing around Target looking for some jeans (sigh) because my chubby jeans are getting a little baggy (yay!). The woman working in the fitting room was very nice and let me take in six items instead of the usual five "because of the baby!" so she and I become pals right away. I maneuver the stroller into the big handicap fitting room. None of the jeans fit. Leave fitting room, head toward grocery area. Baby starts crying. I tell her (and myself) that she will make it for another ten minutes while I grab bread and milk and check out, and then we will happily be in the car where she will sleep. Even though I knew she was hungry and this plan likely would not happen. I sprint through the store grabbing diapers and bottles and by now baby girl has lost it. I decide, poor kid, I'll just feed her in a fitting room. 

I feel the need to briefly insert my stance on breastfeeding here:

I'm all for breastfeeding in public. If covering up is your thing, great. If not, great. Sometimes I cover up, sometimes I don't. It 10000% depends on my kid and what seems like it will work best for her. Nursing is something I really enjoy (now that it doesn't hurt anymore--I'll openly confirm that it hurt like the dickens the first two weeks, and I cried almost every time she ate because it was seriously like going to battle for my boobs). Sometimes, I like that it's a thing that's just mine and hers. And sometimes I want to do my part as a mom who does not live in the privacy of a cabin in the woods, and nurse my baby out in the world. And frankly, I think people who get offended by it (guess what, everyone, it's 2014 and people having been using their boobs to feed babies for a while now) can put a blanket over THEIR head. I'm not the girl who goes boob out in front of her husband's friends or in the middle of a church service, but I'm not squeamish about feeding my child when she's hungry. Anyway.

So there we are, baby howling, mother ready to feed child in dressing room. 

Because there are seats in there!

And also because I was wearing a bra less conducive to nursing, which meant that I had to take my shirt off and really make a production of it. Which I would just rather not do in the furniture section of the store, even though they have seats there also.

So in we go, baby and me, and my fitting room lady sees my screaming child and offers to hold my basket of groceries. I like her.

There is a very very big woman in front of me in line, and she heads into one of the three handicap fitting rooms. The other one is occupied by a person in a wheelchair, which I can see through the three-inch crack between the door and the ground. A man who appears to be the manager of the store looks at me and my howling daughter and asks me loudly, as he could see I didn't have any clothes I wanted to try on, if I was there to nurse her. I said "Yep! If that's okay!" He says of course. I look past him and notice the last big fitting room, which my stroller and I had occupied twenty minutes prior, is now full of three people: a grandmother-looking person, a child, and a young woman with no shirt on. I can see this because the door is wide open. They are snapping at each other and sitting on the fitting room benches eating some candy. They look over at me to see where all the noise was coming from (Eleanor has got some serious pipes). I kind of make eye contact with them, one hand on my stroller, the other grasping my noise-maker, thinking that perhaps they might realize that I want their fitting room so I can feed my kid. The grandma looks me up and down and glares, but leaves her door open. I quickly realize that I needed to choose another option so I back up my stroller, park it next to my friend the fitting room lady, grab my diaper bag, and head toward a small fitting room. The manager guy asks me if I wanted a big fitting room, but I point out that all three are occupied, and he looks at the two closed doors and frowns. Then he walks over to the open one and mentions that I need to feed my baby and are they almost done so that I could use their room. The grandma glares at him, looks at me again, and loudly says, "UM, NO." Manager awkwardly turns around, shrugs at me, stands there speechless. I shrug, step into my small room, and smile ironically as I realize there is no bench, stool or chair, and not even a hook on which to hang my bag. I wrangle Starving with one arm, whip my shirt off with the other, and proceed to nurse her standing up.

As I left Target, fifteen minutes and one killer arm/ab workout later, I wondered to myself how it could have gone differently. The manager did what he could. The fitting room lady did what she could. Maybe I should have just gotten in those other people's faces and demanded that they put their shirts on and give me that fitting room. Maybe not. Either way, my baby was fed and it all ended fine. But I realized how selfish it is of me to use a handicap fitting room or restroom just because I feel like it. Rooms like that are meant for people who truly don't have any other option! I would never compare myself to a person in a wheelchair, but now that I push a stroller around with me everywhere, I understand what it's like to have to choose a different route than the average pedestrian. And I have so much more respect for people who have to put up with rude grandmas on a daily basis.

Am I being ridiculous? Feel free to comment anonymously and put me in my place. I would also love to hear other nursing-standing-up stories because I kiiiiind of feel like I just joined some club and I'm a little bit proud of it. But I never want to do it again because feeding an eleven pound baby leaning against the wall would probably make even Jillian Michaels tired, I'm pretty sure.

And now, for a little dose of positivity, because the internet needs that just as much as the rest of us, here is a photo of the beach.

Growing up and getting shots

Our girl is two months old!

In some ways it feels like it's flown by (how is she so not teeny anymore??) and in others it feels like she's always been here. 

Right now her specialties are:

- giant smiles

- figuring out what to do with her voice

- watching baseball with Dad

- sleeping nights like a champ (mostly)

We're pretty into the whole "being parents" thing. Although, sometimes we just stare at each other and say, "I don't know what to do." "I don't know either." And that's hard. But we usually figure it out. And our baby doesn't seem to mind us too much!

I'm adjusting to my mom bod. Slowly I'm starting to feel like I look normal again; people have, for the most part, stopped asking me when I'm due/staring at my belly/etc. I have been really down on myself for not looking like Karlie Kloss yet (because that's realistic) (HAHA) but Nate has been very kind and patient with me as I come to realize that I'm different now. And that's not bad. My muscles and bones and skin went through a dramatic process of changing, and growing a second human within me, and it's okay to look kind of stretched out and, well, weird, in some ways. I'm eating less sugar and fat than I did during my pregnancy and drinking less soda (Coca-Cola classic, though. I'll never stop 100% because that stuff is amazing) and that's helping me not be so chubby. But I've decided my weirdness is interesting because it's mine. But it's not just mine. It's Eleanor's. It's my future babies'. It's all postpartum women's. It's part of me, and I like that I still have a physical reminder of the amazing thing that my body did. It's no cakewalk to grow a person, it turns out!

Today she got her first round of vaccines. It was especially tough because she was in such a good mood all morning while I was getting her ready -- grinning at me, wiggling around, just being so happy to simply be awake. It was torture knowing what a hard day she was about to have! And the doctor said she looked wonderful, which made my heart happy. (She's tall, apparently!) She was a champ until the nurse administered the shots, at which point she burst into tears, of course (I was already crying, oops). I know that not vaccinating is very popular right now, and after doing some research, I decided it would be best for my sweet girl to give her these shots. I truly believe that, especially because we live downtown in a city of 3 million people, she will be healthiest this way. It was so hard today, seeing her struggle with the pain, but I know it will ultimately be for her benefit. While I was trying to calm her down (before Dad got home with the tylenol -- it was only a few hours but felt like days), I sang her some of my favorite songs from the LDS Hymnbook, and I realized how truly divine it is to be a mom. More on that another day.

I just love you to pieces, sweet girl.

(From our Sunday evening outing to the lakeshore this week. My sweet baby.)

Eleanor's birth story

The story of Eleanor's arrival is very precious to me, and I am sharing it here because I gained so much--emotionally and mentally--by reading other women's birth stories online in the months leading up to my own delivery. It was a very spiritual and personal experience for me and for Nate. If you'd rather not read about some of the more intense details of labor and delivery, stop here! (By the way, Nate took these pictures, with the exception of the last three.) .. Early in the morning on Tuesday 6/3/14 I started feeling miserable contractions. I had been having contractions for about seven weeks already and they had been really painful the past ten days especially (I was now 41 weeks 1 day). The pain was so strong that it woke me up from a weird dream at about 3am. I had two contractions, so I decided to try to go back to sleep sitting up. I had a bi-weekly OB appointment scheduled for 9 am that morning, so I didn't bother calling the doctor. I slept sitting up til I felt another really painful contraction at 5:09. I felt one again at 5:17, then 5:25, then 5:31. At that point I woke Nate and told him I thought I might be having labor contractions, but I didn’t feel optimistic, because I was so overdue and knew I would be getting induced on the ninth day. I had convinced myself my body wasn't going to be able to do this on its own. I was in very poor spirits.

I kept having the contractions every seven or eight minutes, and they were bad enough that they made me kind of gasp/moan. So in order to help Nate stay asleep, I went out and dozed on the couch. They kept coming, some at five minutes, some at eight or nine, and by 8:45 when it was time to walk to the doctor, I was so deeply uncomfortable that I told Nate we needed to just drive there. I walked in while he parked and told the receptionist I needed to go into a room right away because I could NOT labor in the waiting room in front of all those pregnant people.  She didn't really understand what I meant but I didn't have time to explain so I kind of ran right into the nearest room and just laid down. One of the doctors at my practice came in and talked to me for a little while, and saw on the monitor that my contractions were getting closer. She confirmed that I was officially in labor, though still early. I asked her if I should call my mom and tell her to get on a plane and she said definitely. She told us to go home and call her when they got so bad that I couldn’t bear it, or when they were three minutes apart. She off-handedly mentioned that she bet I would be in the hospital by lunchtime. I was at 2.5 cm.  .. We left the doctor and I was now in great spirits (though still considerably uncomfortable). We were having a baby today! Nate called work to let them know he was starting paternity leave. I called Mom, who was dropping my brother Danny off at school (it was 7:55 in CA) and told her it was happening. She hurried and got herself onto a flight leaving just about two hours later. We stopped at the little farmer’s market outside the Modern Art Museum and bought a little bouquet of peonies from a very nice farmer, for baby girl's birthday. Walking made the contractions much more intense and frequent. I had to stop and lean against a building and count every time I had one. By the time we got to the car, I was having them less than five minutes apart. We timed them and they were over a minute long (as they almost all had been all morning). When we got home, Nate ran around and got all the stuff together in the bag. He made me eat (I had had a bowl of cereal and a banana at about 7 am) and I could hardly choke down a granola bar. We were home less than an hour (about 10:30 am to 11:15 am) and I was in such pain that I was howling with every contraction. So I finally decided it was time to go. Once, I screamed at Nate to call the doctor and then I started crying because I felt horrible for being so mean. He was extremely patient. 

We were planning on walking originally (the hospital is only five blocks away), but I was struggling too much so we got a cab. I about died while I was having a contraction in the backseat and trying not to scream. When we got to the hospital, they took a few minutes to get my paperwork done and finally got me in the prep room around 11:30. It was only ten minutes but it felt like hours. Once we got in there, I quickly became very grumpy with the nurses--they were poking me, checking me, sticking needles in me, and putting on those horrible itchy bands that held my heart monitor and baby’s heart monitor, while expecting me to hold still and be quiet. The pain was so intense and unbearable that I asked Nate to give me a priesthood blessing as soon as the nurse stepped out. Finally, finally, after I straight up begged them to get me the epidural, at 12:35 they wheeled me to the elevator and took us up to Labor and Delivery. 

I went into a room where a wonderful nurse started coaching me through the pain. She taught me how to slow my breath and not scream with each contraction, and after about ten minutes the anesthesiologist came in-- I had never been so happy to see a doctor. They made Nate leave, which was kind of scary, but I was so distracted by the pain that I didn’t really have time to freak out. Also, my nurse was helping me breathe through each contraction, looking me right in the eye and breathing with me, holding onto my hands and counting out my breaths. My anesthesiologist was very kind; he answered all my questions and explained the whole epidural to me as he was working and only had to try twice, but it was so intense I couldn't help but cry. As soon as the medicine kicked in (within about 60 seconds), I felt immediately overwhelmed with relief. And started crying again, of course. It was exactly 1:00. Nate came back in and he was so obviously relieved that I wasn’t in pain anymore. It was like a dream. It was a total miracle. All hail the epidural.

After that, I kind of took a nap. I put on a little makeup, hung out with Nate, texted my sister Emily, talked with the nurses, tried to relax. They came in to check me about an hour later and said they were going to break my water. Before the resident got there, I asked Joy (my angel nurse) if she thought I would be at 4 cm yet, and she said yes probably, but who knows. When they pulled back my sheet, they were shocked to see that my water had broken on its own already, and they asked me if I had felt it (nope!). The resident checked me and I heard her say something about not feeling a cervix, so I was a little concerned about that, but then she used the little tool to finish rupturing my amniotic sack (it hadn’t yet totally), and Joy told me that I was at 9.5 cm. I was like WHAT? It was only 4:15! They had me flip onto my side and put one of my feet up on the stirrup so that I could help the baby move down into position. I stayed like that for a while and I think I even took a little nap like that. I told Nate not to tell Mom that I had progressed so far because she still had to take a cab from O'Hare when she landed and I knew she would be worried she'd miss it.

Around 5:30, my epidural started to wear thin, and I was getting really really uncomfortable with each contraction. They sent in another anesthesiologist around 6:15 to redo the dose or something. Nate told me Mom was really close. Around 6:30, I was facing the window and I saw Nate’s face light up and I knew Mom was here. I felt her arms around me from behind and I twisted around to grab her and hold her. We both started to cry--I was beyond relieved and overjoyed she was there. I had been missing her so much. 

Within about a half hour of her arrival, Dr. Buscher came in and said it was about time. I was SO excited that it was finally here. I started pushing around 7:40 I think. It was really hard because they were telling me to do all these different things: push, pull your legs back, relax your legs, lift your elbows, hold your breath, now deep breath, now push again, now stop. By the time I had remembered to do everything they were saying, the contraction was over. It was sort of frustrating because I felt like I wasn’t making any progress. Nate was standing on my left, next to my shoulder, counting out the contractions. He was so, so good at just coaching me through each moment. Mom held my left leg and a new nurse (Joy went home) held my right.  .. After an hour or so, I was kind of starting to have more pain, which was a good thing, in a way, but also kind of sucked. The doctor seemed kind of unimpressed with my efforts of pushing, so I was having a hard time feeling like I was really getting anywhere. But then Mom suggested that I feel the baby’s head. I didn’t want to. Too weird. But after a few more pushes, she explained that yes, I was progressing, even if it didn’t seem like it, so stop beating myself up about it. And that it would help a lot if I could feel her head and realize how far I had come. So I did. It was the strangest feeling. But it helped a lot. Then over the next hour I focused harder and tried to go above and beyond with every single push. I was starting to feel like I was really doing it. The very end is a little bit of a blur because of the pain. I just remember that I was so determined to not have to use the vacuum. It had been 2.5 hours and I knew Dr. Buscher would do it. So I used all my might and took all their cheering and concentrated harder than I ever have on anything in my life, and finally I felt her leave my body and they told me she was born. I heard her voice and I knew she was my daughter. It was 9:53 pm. I had done it. I had succeeded. I have never accomplished something like that in my life, and it was an incredible feeling.

   Nate cut her cord, and I couldn’t help but say “I know you!” as soon as I heard her voice. Immediately they kind of dumped her on my chest and were rubbing her down to get all the guts off and get her blood flowing. She was just so... familiar. I held her on my chest for an hour or so, and I didn’t really even get a good look at her in her entirety until the next day! She started nursing immediately and was very good at it. I was so proud! She was amazing. Nate and I were just completely stunned by what had just happened. But it was such a good feeling. After a little while they did all the footprints and shots and all that stuff. Then finally, after almost two hours!, Mom got her turn to hold her. I was so happy for her. Nate handed El to her and she was clearly overjoyed. Her first grandchild! I took one of the proudest photos of my life from my bed about ten minutes after they finished her shots--Nate holding her and smiling at me like he just won the lottery (just as he was giving her to Mom).

  We decided on her name officially sometime on Wednesday around lunch. They kicked us out on Thursday at 11 am. Everyone was very nice to me and helped me so much. I felt great in there, emotionally, and the pain was actually a lot less than I was anticipating. Probably because they were giving me lots of good pain meds :) Nursing was very painful, even though she was great at it, they said. Mom told me it would hurt really bad for two weeks and then I would be fine (which of course came true). Lanolin was my best friend! When I left, I thought I would get to leave in a wheelchair, but I didn’t! I had to walk out, and I really didn’t want to. Mom thought it was weird too. There was a lot of postpartum stuff that I experienced following her birth that's mundane and normal and boring, but one thing that was so clearly present in my mind over and over in the hospital was how incredible my body is and what a gift it is to have been able to deliver a baby into the world. It was just the most surprising and empowering feeling.

I didn't feel the overwhelming wave of so-in-love-with-my-baby-the-second-I-met-her that people talk about; I was mostly just amazed by her and her presence. Every hour I loved her more and more, and now she's already been here for seven weeks somehow. I love her more today than I did yesterday.