If I Die

My husbands cousin died today, his family is reeling. He was young, and he was the most kind, charismatic young man I have ever know. He was hard working and always brought a smile to peoples faces. In an instant, that was gone. But, with the faith that we have, we know he isnt gone, hes just not HERE. We cant call, we cant write, but we can still remember and with faith, we know we will see him again. His death has got me to thinking about what it would be like if I died tomorrow. And if that were the case, these are things I would want those that TRULY care about me to know.

If I Die

If I die tomorrow, I expect there would be some shock, Please know that on the other side, Im reeling too. I will hurt because I miss you, but I will hurt more knowing that you are hurting and there is nothing I can do about it.

I want you to know that I will be there, waiting, with my arms open and tears running down my face the moment you are there with me. There isnt a force in the world that could keep me from being with you as soon as possible.

I want you to promise that in all your grieving, in all the broken hearted tears, that you will remember the me that ran into doors, the one that pulled a ladder straight into my forehead and put a massive lump there. Remember the me that broke her arm re-enacting George of the Jungle on the shed in the back yard. The one that held a funeral for a mosquito that I squished. I hope that in all your crying, something that I did that was so funny, so ridiculously me just hits you, and you get the giggles until you blow snot bubbles. I want that me to be the one that lives in your memories. Please dont paint me out to be a paragon of virtue either. Remember that I was real. A real pain in the butt, a real opinionated brat, a really, really imperfect person. But also remember that I really tried to be better.

I want you to know that I do believe in eternal families. With every atom in my body, I know that this gospel is true. Follow the prophets, Go to the Temple. Pray--a LOT. Dont sell out your faith because its the thing that pulls you through hard times.

Dont mourn me too long. Dont forget me, but please, live your life to the fullest each day, life is too short to waste it all crying. I dont know if you will miss me for 8 years, or 18....or even 80. but I promise, that all the years we miss apart on earth are only a short span of time compared to the eternities we will have together forever. Live your life to the fullest and bring stories to me so I can laugh with you.

When it comes time to plan the funeral, Please dont pick sad songs. Make the people cry a lot hand out bubbles. And for the love of all that is good in the world, have pizza delivered to my graveside service. Please, make it a celebration of my life instead of somber cry-fest.

Lastly, I want you to miss me on those big days, birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, baptisms, births, ect....but as time goes on, you wont think of me every day, and I promise, thats ok. I want you to be so busy living that you forget about me for days at a time. It doesnt mean you love me less, it just means that you are busy living, and that is so important.



Writing this has been super cathartic to me. I feel that its important to own our mortality and to tell those we love that its ok to mourn us but that its also ok to learn to live again without us. I believe with every ounce of my person that death is not the end. That knowledge gives me hope that I will see my family again, that I will continue being the person I am, no matter what happens. Knowing that I am an eternal being with an eternal family gives me hope and courage that no matter what happens, I am going to be ok. And that, my friends, is something that not even death that sever.

Anti-social media

My first semester of college was the first time I had ever heard of Facebook. It was 2007, and I had ignored the MySpace bandwagon, I had barely got my first email address (and, I confess, I still use it today, but its SO cluttered with junk mail, and no one emails me anymore anyway that I never use it.) I remember thinking that Facebook was dumb, who would actually USE that thing anyway? A few months after my second semester ended and I was on my break between semesters, I started to get pretty lonely for my friends. I was living at home and there were no YSA programs or people my age around. I caved and got a Facebook account to stay in touch with all my college friends. There weren't many of us on there, it being a relatively 'new' thing. You had to have an active college email to sign up. There was no 'poking', no chat feature, no games. You could share pictures, write on each others walls, write statuses in third person...it was very utilitarian. I loved it. It was fun to find my friends quirky thoughts, to share silly jokes and comment on goofy pictures. We were in college and the world was ours. Slowly, imperceptibly, Facebook changed and evolved, like my life. You no longer needed a college email to join, and suddenly, my mom, my grandma, obscure distant third cousins all wanted to be friends. Suddenly, they were privy to the quirky thoughts of my college friends, I found that I was starting to have to censor my thoughts more, one becomes a little more cautious what you say or share when your mom can see it. Younger cousins and friends joined Facebook...theres something definitely hard to handle when you have your mom and all her older friends talking about aging and right next to that you see high school break ups. Menopause and puberty are hard to cope with when you are doing it all on social media. I watched college friends get engaged, then married. I watched them have babies, buy new cars and houses. I was a voyeur in their lives. The digital screen, glowing in my eyes, somehow made my viewing of those private moments ok. Its like having my face pressed to the glass of their homes, my breath, fogging the window, yet, somehow, this peeping, its ok, acceptable. Encouraged. Facebook and my life kept changing. No longer were my friends a few blocks away, now they are places like India, Seattle, Denmark, Cheyenne. I can't just get in the car and drive to their house. Hug them, have a real conversation, see all the microexpressions that flicker across their face while we talk of life and babies. To see their beautiful children, I have to go to their page, see what they have posted. No longer are there funny stories told, face to face, everything is now eternally memorialized by the tapping of keys and the glow of a pixleated screen. I will never forget when Facebook added the messenger feature, how great I thought it was. I wish I had known that the little bleep was a death knell to interpersonal communication. That my phone would stop ringing. That my email would be empty of letters from friends. Now, I am married, and I was expected to post wedding pictures right away (but I didnt). I have a son, and was expected to post all of my ultrasounds (but I didnt). I have pictures and videos hidden away, their sweet, tender moments are reserved for me. I selfishly hide some of my moments away from the voyeurs in my life. I have been accused of not posting enough pictures of my son, sometimes I feel as though I am expected to share everything. I understand being far apart and wanting to stay connected. I miss those people who are genuinely my friends. I miss their laughter, I miss the memories that we made of sitting on the floor, playing cards or watching movies or going on adventures. But we are adults now. Moms and dads with dinner time and bedtime stories. We are scattered across the globe and can no longer pop a bag of popcorn and rent a movie together. Past generations were more open. I introduced myself to a neighbor yesterday. We have lived across the street from each other for over a year. He is the first person on my block I have talked to. Neighbors used to talk to each other. The front porch used to be a place where people gathered and made REAL memories. Now its Facebook, where the friendships are real, but the memories arent. The digital world is an empty shadow of the real one. I long for the tangible again. I would prefer a text to a Facebook message, A phone or skype call to a mass produced and shared inspirational quote. I would cherish the letters that I received way more than any 'like' I could ever get on Facebook. I went on an adventure last weekend with a few of my sisters in law and it was the most fun I have had in a very long time. I left feeling refreshed and recharged at sharing my space with people I care about. It was spontaneous, genuine, REAL. I understand that we all have busy lives, but Im afraid that with the digital voyeurism that we have now, that if I DIDNT have my Facebook account, that all of my friendships would be 'out of sight, out of mind'. Im afraid that my presence in anyones lives is just a matter of convenience, and that thought breaks my heart. I have been told to 'put myself out there', and I feel like I have tried again and again, to only feel as though I dont belong, like a cactus in a rosebed. I feel like I could go missing or die, and with the exception of my husband and son, no one would know for weeks. I dont know what we can do to change things, but I hope that we can do something. I didnt fill up my friends list with people that I dont genuinely care about, I would hate to lose them, but I would hate to invest the time to have a friendship that wasnt substantial.

Don't Pull Your Hair

This kid, he is cute. He is a happy, bright eyed, inquisitive baby. He has cute little rolls on his knees, dimples in his cheeks and two cute ones on his back, just above his bum, and he has this head FULL of long dark hair! And his hair attracts quite a bit of attention.Before I even knew if my baby was a boy or a girl, I knew it was coming with LOTS of hair, as I was pushing him out, my midwife kept exclaiming that my baby had so much hair!  Nurses in the hospital exclaimed that it was so beautiful, strangers in Walmart came up to look at it, people at church have come up and pet his head. No matter where we go, people talk about his hair. And its not just random people that love his hair, as a newborn, he loved having his hair brushed and stroked. About six weeks ago, he discovered his hair and could often be seen reaching up to feel the funny stuff on his head. He started playing with his hair as a soothing mechanism. He can often be found playing with his hair when he is drowsy and trying to go to sleep. One day I even put him in a crocheted hat that looked like a minion and he couldn't go to sleep, until he discovered that the hat has 'hair' too! Then he fell fast asleep, happily clutching the 'hair' on the hat.

In fact, the other day I found him laying on the floor, playing with his hair, opening and closing his chubby little hands around the silky strands to his hearts content. Suddenly, he started getting quite fussy. I was a little confused until I realized that he was pulling his hair quite hard! I pried his fingers off of his hair and he was instantly better. Now I find this a multi-daily occurrence. I never thought I'd find myself saying "STOP PULLING YOUR HAIR!" but I do. Today, I noticed that there are a few spots on his head where the hair is thinning from all his yanking. He is quite literally pulling his own hair out. 

He is unknowingly destroying something about himself that sets him apart and makes him uniquely himself. In all his innocence, he is causing himself unnecessary pain because of something that he thinks makes him feel better. I think I am more like that than I'd care to admit. I find myself ripping out my own hair, metaphorically, and just like my son, its unnecessary pain that I don't need to inflict upon myself. I am really good at grabbing hold of the things that make me uniquely myself, and I yank and pull on them, trying to remove those things I think are weird and maybe 'not cool'. Except, instead of using chubby little hands, I am self depreciating, judgmental and set ridiculous and unreachable standards for myself. I tell myself that I'm not pretty, not talented, that I'm a bad wife and mother so why even try? I convince myself that I don't have friends because Im awful to be around and that I deserve to feel alone. But the reality is that I'm a healthy, attractive woman with many gifts and abilities that make me different and distinctly me. My husband loves me and my son is a beautiful, happy boy who could be the poster child for infant health. I have many people in my life who love me and care about me but also live full and busy lives which makes it hard for us to have the social lives that we once had. As much as I wish my son would stop yanking out all of his hair, I'm sure that God wants me to stop beating myself up. Actually, I'm totally confident that he wants me to love myself MORE than I want my boy to stop pulling his hair. He wants me to believe in myself, to see my beauty and talents and accept them as much as I've allowed myself to accept my flaws. He wants me to stop pulling my hair out, and let those things that make me who I am, show for the world to see. Next time I think a negative thought, or say that I'm so stupid for forgetting something, or let my fear and insecurities hold me back from doing or wearing something, I'm going to remember that its time to stop pulling my own hair. Its time to let who I am shine forth, and its definitely time to be in my own corner. 

This boy, he is four months old, and he teaches me every day to be a better person. This boy, someday, he may just change the world, he's already changed mine. 

Birth Story

I enjoy telling stories, and this might be one of my favorites

February 25: I was a week overdue, I was depressed and frustrated that there were no signs of progress. I was in a lot of pain and had been having false labor off and on for close to two weeks. I was scheduled to be induced the following evening and we anticipated having our baby within 48 hours. I was nervous about the impending induction, but had done a bunch research and felt a little more at ease about what was going to happen. We had spent the previous two weeks trying EVERYTHING possible to get me to go into labor naturally, and had finally given up. I was in a lot of physical discomfort and was getting heartbroken that things were not going like I had planned. We were sitting in the living room that night watching TV, and I started having contractions. I thought that it was just another round of annoying false labor pains and decided to take a bath so they would go away. As we were getting ready for bed, they started up again and I remember being INCREDIBLY annoyed because I was tired and the next two days would be very long, tiring days (we had planned to get a lot of shopping and walking in the next day to help the induction be more successful, then of course, the following day I would be in labor). I just wanted to sleep, but it was not working. I went out to sleep on the couch, but the contractions just would NOT stop! I finally got the hint to start timing them, but quickly became overwhelmed and went back into the bedroom around midnight. I woke Joe up and demanded that he time the contractions, which earned me a look that said 'you're crazy, shut up and go to bed!' He grudgingly timed my contractions, though quickly became concerned at the level of discomfort I was in. We called the hospital and told them we were on our way. The 120 mile drive took forever in my mind, but was actually way shorter than what it usually is. As we were pulling into the parking lot, I turned to Joe and hysterically asked "What if they turn me away again!?" he reassured me that they wouldnt, and ushered me in to the hospital. (The ER waiting room was surprisingly more busy at 2:30 am, and since he ran in and yelled that his wife was in labor, EVERY eye was on me. It was a little awkward). We were taken up to the maternity ward and they quickly reassured me that I was, indeed in labor and that my baby would be here pretty soon! (my contractions were 2 minutes apart and I was dilated to 6 cm). Before my doula could arrive and talk me out of it, I asked for an epidural. (Seriously, it was amazing!) The epidural allowed me to get some sleep for maybe 3 hours or so. While everyone else slept, I woke up at one point and was able to ponder in peace the things that were going on with my body and my baby. It was such a relaxing moment and I was able to be calm and be filled with peace that everything would be ok. Of course, then I fell asleep again and was overcome with exhaustion. The nurse and midwife finally came in and told me that it was time to push. I would push and push, then between pushes it seemed like all the progress I had made was regressing. They finally told me to push and not stop, Within minutes, my baby was here, and Joe was telling me "Its a boy! Its a boy!" He was born at 12:20 pm on February 26,2014, weighed 8 lbs and 15 oz and was 22 inches long! I was so overcome with joy and relief. In that moment the world shrunk and time stopped until it was just Joe and I and our precious Connor. Ive never felt such overwhelming love before, I suddenly became part of something bigger than myself. That moment made the endless morning sickness, awful heartburn and months of discomfort totally worth it. In the last 6 weeks I have totally fallen in love with this little cherub! He is so happy and so relaxed and his smile is like a ray of sunshine that pierces my heart and chases away any lingering shadows that ever made me sad! I couldnt ask for a better birth experience and I couldnt imagine my little family any differently than it is right now. It brings to mind a scripture that helped me get through the rough times, it gave me courage to live for today, and you know what? Today is AMAZING! 

Alma 36: 20-21

 20 And oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold; yea, my soul was filled with joy as exceeding as was my pain!

 21 Yea, I say unto you, my son, that there could be nothing so exquisite and so bitter as were my pains. Yea, and again I say unto you, my son, that on the other hand, there can be nothing so exquisite and sweet as was my joy.

Shouldn't you be fat yet?!

Ill be totally honest and admit that Ive been feeling this for a long time, but have been too self conscious and worried about what people would say, that I didn't want to tell anyone what I was really feeling. But, what I'm feeling, its not totally healthy, and I feel like, at this point, something needs to be said. 

I hate the way I look right now. 

I look in the mirror and see this ugly, blown up blimp and my clothes don't fit and are uncomfortable. 

If I had to tack an image to what I FEEL like, it would look something like this:

Yeah, I know. SUPER attractive. 

So what? Every girl feels like that some days, right? Yeah...maybe...

But here's the deal. I'm 8 1/2 months pregnant. Deep down in all of my Jabba the Hutt feelings, I WANT to feel like this: 

Yeah, I know. I have a tall order. I want to feel like Heidi Klum. (again, what girl DOESN'T?!) She is iconically sexy, beautiful, confident...and even with a belly out to there, she is comfortable in her skin. Its more than comfort, its her, showing off the glory of her pregnancy to the world, with nothing to hide and no fear about what people are going to say. I WANT THAT.  

I found myself telling someone the other day that I was grateful its winter because my belly still hides under a hoodie or my coat and people can barely tell I'm pregnant. How sad is that?! I'm harboring a precious soul inside me, bringing LIFE into the world, and I'm glad that people cant see it because it means that I am safe from their critical comments. And DON'T even try to tell me that people aren't critical of pregnant ladies, anyone recall these two? 

These two gained more during their pregnancy than Heidi Klum did, that much is clearly evident, but they are still out there, exuding the same confidence that Ms. Klum did. The same "I am comfortable in the skin that I am in right now, I am making LIFE" kind of confidence that I wish I had. And because they gained more weight, they were totally SLAMMED in the media, which of course, transcended to the general populace. I, myself, have slammed on these women, that I DON'T EVEN KNOW, because they 'got fat' while they were pregnant. No wonder Ms. Kardashian sequestered herself in her house for months after giving birth. Id want to stay in a place where I didn't have to listen to complete strangers telling me I was fat. I wouldn't want to be having to hear all these people telling me that I wasn't good enough because my body wasn't rail thin even though I had just brought a baby into the world. Talk about messed up priorities. 

And the sad thing is, that SO many women gain a bunch of weight when they are pregnant. Its how our bodies help us carry that cute little kiddo. But we live in a society that's a little sick in the way they view women, and the way they teach women to view themselves. I've read dozens of articles that point out that we so often teach our daughters from a very young age that their physical appearance is important. And shocking new statistics show that by the time many girls reach adolescence she is already concerned with losing weight. Eating disorders are at an all time high, diet and exercise programs make thousands of dollars a year and there are products flooding the market that are 'guaranteed to make you look thinner with little to no effort.' 

Dipping your toe into that pool of societal validation can get you sucked into a vortex of self-depreciation, loathing and low self-esteem that is incredibly difficult to escape from.

Ive worried SO much about my weight while Ive been pregnant. To the point where its almost ridiculous. The first 25 weeks of my pregnancy, I had some pretty severe morning sickness. There were some days I could LITERALLY keep nothing down til maybe 3 in the afternoon. I spent HOURS in the bathroom throwing up sips of water that just wouldn't settle my stomach. 

I remember going to my in laws at about week 18. They were having a big picnic and I was having one of my very rare days where I could actually eat. After about 2 weeks of having nothing but toast, water and apple juice, I was SO INCREDIBLY EXCITED to be eating things like corn on the cob, a brat and a piece of cake (a very small piece of cake, mind you. I didn't want to get TOO carried away and jinx things!) I sat down next to my husband, and his uncle, who, I'm sure was only teasing around, looked at my plate and said that just because I was pregnant didn't mean I had to eat for two. I was CRUSHED! My plate wasn't piled high, and I hadn't eaten anything of real substance in days! I was actually feeling great because I had (as I later told my husband) 'only thrown up a little' that morning. But suddenly the confidence I had, fled. My appetite went a little dry and I managed to gag down (and luckily retain) about 3/4 of the food on my plate. Later that day, I had three separate women come up to me and offer me counsel on my eating habits. Apparently my full plate had caused them to assume that I got to eat like that all the time, and that I was going to 'balloon'. "Be careful how you eat honey," they warned, "You don't want to gain 65 pounds then have to try to lose it all as soon as the baby comes." They said it in the kind of tone that implied that if I gained any weight, that I would lose the attention of my husband and that my child would resent me forever for being a 'fat lard'. I remember being incredibly sick the next morning and being grateful because it meant I wouldn't gain any weight. 

Of course, at my next midwife appointment, when I still hadn't gained any weight and had only a tablespoon of water and a two inch french fry in my stomach, and they told me not to leave town in case I still couldn't keep anything down and they needed to give me an IV, I started praying that SOMEHOW I could get better. Luckily, I did, and at my next appointment, I had gained 3 lbs! Here I am, over halfway through my pregnancy, and I have gained a total of 3 lbs. (But that wasn't from my pre-pregnancy weight, nope. I had gained three lbs from the LOWEST I had lost...so my weight gain was still considered negative) When they told me that I had gained those three pounds, I feel like cheering! I was SO proud of that small accomplishment! I was on my way to visit my parents this time, and I felt FANTASTIC! My husband was at hunting camp and I was just so excited to have a few days at home. I could eat the kind of food I wanted, and my small appetite was growing just like my baby. 

The day before I left, I went to a health food shop with my brother because there were some people there that wanted to see me while I was in town. In the shop were several other women and I ended up stuck in a corner with all these strangers telling me not to eat too much because I would get fat. I distinctly remember saying that I wasn't worried about it because I hadn't gained any positive weight at that point (in the vain hopes that they would back off). One of the holistic vultures replied "Oh, don't worry, it will come, and once it starts it will just PILE on!" (I can tell you that I wasn't worried before, but suddenly I was!) Later that evening, I was at my youngest brothers high school choir concert and had to step out for a moment to take a very important call about a charity case I was working on. While I am on the phone, a lady that Ive known for a while comes up to me and loudly blurts out "Shouldn't you be fat YET?!" I'm totally stunned. What the heck am I supposed to do?! I'm on a very important phone call, and here's yet ANOTHER person inquiring about my weight. (and I'm sorry, but calling my baby "FAT" is probably a sure fire way to piss off any pregnant lady, right?!) I did the only thing that my brain could think of, I shot her a VERY nasty look, yanked up the hem of the hoodie I was wearing (pretty sure it was my husbands because none of mine fit at that point) so she could see my 'fat belly', then I walked off. I finished my phone call a second later and when I turned around, she was still standing there. 

"You know," she started, and my mind filled with this impending sense of dread that YET AGAIN it was going to happen. "I gained 85 pounds with all of my babies." 

That's nice. 

"Yeah, I'm not really worried about--" 

"It all comes in the last 6 weeks." She shrewdly rakes my body with her eyes at this point and then finishes in an altogether too cheerful voice: "Good luck trying to get it all off!" 

I went back to my parents house and cried for a solid 45 minutes. 

Since then, Ive become a little more leery about wearing shirts that show off my belly. I hate going to church because I only have two dresses and it makes it hard to cover my burgeoning abdomen. I'm really critical of how I look, about the numbers on the scale, about the fact that my husband has stopped referring to me as 'beautiful', 'sexy', 'hot' and now only calls me 'cute' (which is way better than 'prettily plump', I suppose). I used to be that girl that people called tiny. Now I look like a lawn flamingo, itty bitty legs and a big ol body. I'm scared to post belly pics on facebook...and really, its not like anyone asks to see them, so I guess I could get away with not showing them...

I guess that my biggest frustration is that I already have people trying to get me to buy their stupid diet tricks from them. That this overwhelming message I'm getting is "Hey, you fat cow, you need to hurry up and get skinny again, that even though its taken 9 months for you to get to where you are now, that you need to lose all that weight as soon as that baby comes out!" I guess Ill schedule my Lipo for right after my 6 week follow up. 

Why the heck cant I just look at my belly that houses my precious child and love this uncomfortable mountain for what it is? I seriously thought I would struggle to get pregnant, so the fact that I did so quickly, is kind of a miracle straight out of the Bible, and instead of being able to look at this body that is doing this totally AMAZING thing, Ive allowed myself to become indoctrinated by society. I stepped into the vortex and I don't know if I can get out on my own. 

I have less than 6 weeks to find that kind of confidence that Heidi Klum, Jessica Simpson and Kim Kardashian have when they are pregnant, but I'm going to dig and try to find that confidence, because this child deserves that. They deserve a mom who is confident in her own skin, someone who tells them that they have a beautiful soul, and that having flat abs and a gap between your thighs is superficial compared to a full heart and a generous spirit. 

I want my baby to know that they are loved and that I have loved them from the very moment I saw those two pink lines on that pregnancy test. 

My mom shared this link with me, and it sums it up pretty well. This is all my baby ever needs to know

Congrats girl! You're Pregnant!

Im 20 weeks pregnant, halfway done! And heres a letter I wish I would have got when I took that very first pregnancy test and stared and stared for hours (ok...more like a half hour) trying to figure out if there was really one line or two (I took my first test at 4 weeks and 3 days...haha that second line was WAY light!) But I digress. Once I realized I was indeed pregnant, I was just SO excited! Joe and I decided to keep it a secret, and we did, for a few days...til we realized that we were going to his parents house over the weekend and knew that we wouldnt be able to keep it quiet. We decided to tell the world that we were pregnant somewhere around the 5th week. People were really excited for us, but some people were a little more forthright in their decisions to tell us that we shouldnt have said anything so fast...which has really seemed to set a trend for this pregnancy, which, frankly, has left me far more depressed than anyone expecting their first child should ever have to feel. Here is what I wish people would have told me so far.

Hey girl!

That moment you have waited for your WHOLE life is here! You are going to be the BEST mom EVER! Here are some tidbits that might help you on this journey:

1.)People are going to give you a LOT of well meaning advice, and a HUGE chunk of that will be stuff that you will inwardly roll your eyes at. Just realize early that people mean well, but unless they are adopting your child, its none of their business what you do.

2.)People will tell you all kinds of remedies for anything that ails you. If it works for them, hallelujah! If it does not work for you or you dont feel comfortable doing it, thats totally ok! (and if you keep having the ailments, they will KEEP suggesting the same thing over and over and over...its annoying...but if they didnt care they wouldnt suggest it, right?!)

3.)You're going to feel some really awesome/really strange/really freaky things going on, and chances are, when you share them with someone, they will, in their excitement, go "Oh! Just wait until.....[insert random thing that their kid has already some here]!" and it will be kind of a deflating moment for you, because you are feeling something TOTALLY NEW! This is an entirely new world to you and its overwhelming and awesome and its ok to be a little miffed when your excitement/anxiety/fears/pain/whatever are totally glossed over by "Well, isnt that nifty that you just felt your baby move for the first time! Wait until they don a red cape and fly like my Billy did. THATS a special moment!" (Actually, its totally ok to be MORE than miffed about it, behavior like that is RUDE and those people deserve a ninja chop to the neck.)

4.)Its ok to be uncomfortable with people touching your belly uninvited. Im still working on how to address is, but it is totally OK to feel awkward with people trying somehow to feel your itty bitty fetus inside you. Mostly because it IS awkward. Society should address that.

5.)Prayers become more potent when you are hugging the toilet bowl for the fiftieth time this week. Even if you find yourself praying to the tiny little person in you to 'Just take it, its ONLY water and its GOOD for you!' If you find yourself monstrously sick, do whatever makes you feel better. If you are one of those people who never gets sick, consider yourself lucky!  (and if you are one of those people that is sick the WHOLE time, its perfectly acceptable to be jealous of all those irritating people that tells you that they feel SUPERB while they are pregnant. They will be jealous later when they are losing 80 lbs and you dont have to lose anything because you didnt gain any weight the whole time.)

6.) You will encounter people that know EVERYTHING about what is best for your baby. They may be a veritable font of information regarding car seats, breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding, vaccines, circumcision, vitamins, diapering, babywearing, co-sleeping, travel tips, bathtime, sleeptime, picking a name, when to feed your baby and what, things you should do or avoid during pregnancy, discipline for your future child, doctors vs. midwives, hospitals/home births/birthing centers, how to buy a crib, SIDS, childhood illnesses, conventional medicine vs. homeopathic treatments, ect. Just because they have Baby Encyclopedia Britannica in their head does NOT mean that they know what is best for YOUR baby. If you feel bad about something, dont do it. God did not bless you with this baby without the proper inspiration that you would need to take care of it. If Ms. or Mr. Britannica cant respect your parenting instincts enough to let you make the decisions that YOU need to make as a parent, then you need to tell them to butt out. Be polite. But firm. FIRM. You and your partner are the only ones who can make decisions for this child, dont let someone else get in on that when its not their place.

7.) You might gain a lot of weight. You might not gain any weight. You might gain the perfect amount of weight. People will comment on your weight a lot and its annoying. Accept it and only worry about your weight when your doctor does.

8.) Naming a baby is HARD! And just when you think you have the perfect name, someone will steal your name or someone close you you will hate it. Have a backup. And decide if you want to use the name if its stolen or loathed. Or you can own the name you love and people can just roll with it. Whatever you decide.

9.) When you wake up at three in the morning STARVING, eat something! Im pretty sure a midnight snack never killed anyone!

10.) Enjoy it :) Find the positives in all the really awesome stuff going on! Paint that nursery whatever color you want, eat that hot fudge sundae, tell people to jump off a cliff...haha whatever it is that you want to do. Go with it and welcome that little one with happy and open arms!

Congrats lady, and hang on...its a WILD ride!

1 Samuel 16:7

In the last week Ive had several glaring alerts to all the things wrong with my appearance. First, my daddy, whom I have not seen in several months came up to visit. Upon his arrival, he proceeded to point out to my brother the 15....ok...20 pounds Ive gained since I began dating my husband. I knew it was coming even before he arrived, but I didnt count on it becoming the topic of discussion for as long as it did, nor did I think that it would hurt as much as it did. Not a word was said about the special effort I had made to look really nice for my parents and brother. (seriously, ask Joe, I spent at least an hour working on my hair and makeup, and changed my clothes at LEAST 10 times before they showed up.) The next day we went to my in laws for our open house in Joe's hometown. Many of his family and neighbors came down to congratulate us, and as happy as I was, I was suddenly VERY conscious of the few little pimples on my chin, my stringy looking hair and more plump figure that Im still trying to figure out how to dress flatteringly. After that, I told my husband that I want to try one of those skinny wrap things that I see cluttering up my newsfeed. I began thinking of getting my hair done to make me look more pretty and of all these things I could do if I were more beautiful. Then, yesterday, I see this video put out by Dove, where these women are taken in to a sketch artist where and asked to describe themselves while the artist, separated by a curtain, draws them. After them comes in someone that they were told to get to know earlier, and they describe them as well. The sketches were VASTLY different, helping the women realize that they are harder on themselves than they should be. I LOVED it, I cried and wondered if I asked, how people would describe me. Would they see the too large forehead a hair stylist once diagnosed me with, or perhaps my eyes, while having a beautiful color, they are too small, too close together and always seem to have little dark circles under them. Perhaps they would see my lips, the ones that I always found beautiful until a Mary Kay lady declared that they were thin. Or the hair that Ive been told is too fine to do anything with. In a moment of despair I changed my funny profile picture that shows my silly personality and a funny, lighthearted moment with my husband to a professional, touched up studio shot of me in my wedding dress. Dont get me wrong, I look very pretty in the bridal portrait, and I love the picture, but I changed it for the wrong reason. I made a new status asking my friends to tell me what they see when they look at me, and I texted my husband, nearly in tears, asking him why he thinks Im beautiful. I got comment after comment about my personality, and my husband gave that answer too. Part of me was disappointed. I mean, being the girl with the 'great personality' is a little depressing. I want to be that girl with the smoking hot body, right?! So today, Im feeling a little bit better, then I see that one of my friends has posted a link to this blog post about why they hated the Dove video. She was frustrated because the video shows what she deems as more attractive people, that it still doesnt say that people with physical appearance conditions are attractive too. So, then I get frustrated. If youve been reading my blog for a while, you may know that I was on a medicine to treat my mild acne and it gave me complications that Im still dealing with years later. Complications that I may deal with my entire life. At that point in my life I had to learn (and then apparently promptly forgot) that my acne did not determine my worth. Then I started remembering the campaign to have Mattel make bald Barbies for little girls going through cancer so they feel beautiful too. Suddenly, the cloud over my head broke, and the spirit began to teach me. The problem with the Dove ad, isnt that it isnt diverse enough. The problem with Barbie isnt that she doesnt show little girls that they arent pretty enough. The problem with my actions wasnt that it was an unveiled attempt to gain validation for my feelings about myself. The problem is that no matter what your argument about how to make women feel more beautiful about themselves we fail to focus on WHAT makes someone beautiful. Im not beautiful because of my cute little nose, or because I have this adorable little dimple under one of my eyes, or because I have these really pretty green eyes. But I am beautiful because Ive been a true friend. Because Ive held the hand of a dying woman. Because I make people smile. Because I love a man who has a past. Because Ive gone through trials and overcame them. Im very ashamed of myself for wanting people to validate my physical traits and being disappointed when they told me that my spirit is beautiful. Or for being a little sad when my husband told me that my personality is beautiful. Id rather be known for being a woman of kindness than a woman of unsurpassed beauty, especially when physical appearance changes and fades. And Id especially rather be known for seeing others for who they are instead of how they look. I want to be like the scripture in the bible that states " But the Lord said unto Samuel, Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart."