The day after you get back from vacation is always a little nuts, isn't? Monday was no exception. It didn't take long for our once clean and orderly "we're going on a vacation" home to get destroyed by the tornado driven forces of "we're back from vacation." You know-- suitcases and laundry all over the place? Kids getting reaquainted with the toys they haven't seen in a week? Getting a call from our landlord telling me people were coming over in an hour while I was out grocery shopping nearly sent me over the edge. I ended up just throwing everything back in the suitcases and shoving them under the bed for me to take care of later.
On a more positive note, I did get breakfast in bed that first morning. Eggs and toast. That was lovely way to soften the blow of my first morning post-cruise. The meal was made more out of necessity than anything as we were out of milk. Milk that wasn't expired, anyway. But it was sure a nice touch to deliver it to me in bed as I wanted to weep for myself that vacation was over and it was soon time to start packing up the house.
Okay, weeping is going a little overboard. I was actually THRILLED to come home and tickled to wake up in my own bed with my own kids scurrying around the house getting into mischief. I couldn't hug and kiss them enough Sunday night when I burst through the front doors. Savvy was a doll and kept hugging me and telling me she loved me. That's the best feeling in the world. Cade was slightly preoccupied with a computer game when we arrived, but he eventually came over and said hi to us when we told him we brought presents. It was hilarious.
When Savvy did her usual pre-dawn drop-in Monday morning, I was thrilled to snuggle with her in bed for a few hours before the sun came up. I know I am shooting myself in the foot for not being consistent and not bringing her back to crib, but I just wanted to drink up the chubby cheeks and the little fingers and the slow and steady breathing of my baby...who, well, isn't so much a baby anymore. I honestly don't know what I'd do if I wasn't a mother. And then I realized, there would come a day when I will have to more or less relinquish the rights and privileges that come with that title and send my little beings on their way to hopefully be well-adjusted adults who contribute good to our society.
Can you tell my 7-day excursion gave me a lot of time to think? More obviously to miss my kids, and to relish in my role as a mother. It is a beautiful thing having the opportunity to long for your kids and reflect on your own progress (or lack thereof) as a parent.
One of the many traits I love about Kyle is his ability to be in the moment. He can drop everything and ignore the stresses of life and just be with the kids and enjoy them. I often have to fix or wipe away all my stresses before I even begin to think about enjoying my children. Certainly we are not the first couple to experience such a difference in character. And certainly, there are some benefits to having a strictly business attitide while your partner can enjoy the ride. But I know Kyle never says to himself, "Gosh, I wish I were more concerned about the nuances of life more so I would enjoy my kids less."
I've been saving up a number of books to read when I had a spare moment. I planned on having about a zillion spare moments on the cruise, so I brought a little library with me. I finished four books on my vacation--
Always Looking Up (M.J. Fox),
In Praise of Stay-At-Home Moms (Dr. Laura),
Scream-Free Parenting (Hal something or other), and
The Last Song (Sparks' latest novel).
It wasn't intentional, but all the books, even Nicholas' Spark's novel (his work is predicatable and written at a Grade 5 reading level, but still I read them. I can't seem pass on a feel-good novel that will make me cry without fail) followed with this singular theme:
Be your best self so you can be the best parent to your children. That thought resonated quite well with me. I mean, it's something we all want, isn't it? To be good parents. To be a good person. The messages in each book profoundly touched me. I wasn't expecting to be touched. I was just expecting to enjoy good, uplifting books while being served 3 meals a day and catching some rays.
I always wanted to become a parent. I loved babysitting growing up and proudly asserted whenever asked what I wanted to be with a firm and proud answer, "A Mother." I knew it was a divine role, and I looked forward to it. Staying at home with my children was never a question for me. I was once advised by a counselor at BYU that I should get at least a part time job once I graduated (mind you Cade was 1 year at the time.) She told me it would fix how I was feeling. I balked at her suggestion. Staying away longer from my child would make me feel better? I was already racked with guilt about schooling while raising him. Glad I didn't listen to her suggestion of Kyle putting off starting a business so I could have my non-comittal fling with the career-world.
When it happened --becoming a Mother-- I took it for granted. I suppose because it happened so unexpectedly and effortlessly the first time around. I married Kyle and about 11 months later, we were parents. I allowed the overwhelming and unexpected role of bearing and raising a child while still going to school and having not even a year of marriage under my belt shadow the miracle of being a mother. When we decided to start trying for number two, the timing seemed right, though I was still apprehensive about the pregnancy. Pregnancy scared me. I was so, so sick with Cade. I feared I was going to lose out on a year of his childhood while I endured another one for our second. Pretty much as soon as we were done talking about it, I got pregnant. The pregnancy with Savannah was, though as impossible as it was to imagine, worse than my first. During those 9 months Cade took up making puking noises to entertain himself and he spent a lot of time in bed with mommy reading books. As in, Mommy in bed resting while he looked at the books himself. Sad. But of course once little Savannah came, it was worth it. So worth it. All the itching, puking, nausea, and discomfort in the world couldn't make me say that she wasn't worth the journey. A lot of women say they are able to forget pregnancy and birth, and that's how they are able to do it over again. For me, I remember very clearly of how difficult the pregnancies were, so it took me some time before I was ready to endure another pregnancy.
In November 2008, I was at Target buying some Halloween costumes on clearance. I saw a cute Halloween t-shirt for a dollar and I thought to myself, "Well, it won't fit me next October, so I'll give it to one of my sisters or to a friend as a gift." Why wouldn't it fit me? Well, because I would be pregnant of course. As each month of Spring went by that I wasn't pregnant, I'd look in my closet at that Halloween shirt and hope I'd need to give it to someone. When I was packing to move to Utah in July, I packed it with all my own clothes instead of in my bin reserved for gifts. By September I had accepted the fact that I'd get to wear the shirt myself. I wore it the day I went to the pumpkin patch with Cade's kindergarten class. Putting it on was kind of surreal to me. It just wasn't a moment I anticipated, and when I took it off the hanger, it just felt so odd. Funny how something as simple as donning a shirt can be such an emotional reality.
I thought back in May when I ran the Ogden half marathon that would be my final hurrah with running for a while--- because I was going to be pregnant of course. When the summer went by with no sign of bearing a baby, I took up running again. I signed up for another half-marathon. It also felt strange. I just didn't envision myself doing it. But I couldn't put my life on hold for something I had finally realized I didn't have as much control over as I thought.
Through all of it, I was optimistic. To be truthful, moving to Utah from Chicago was certainly a bearable experience because I had my health. I truly felt Heavenly Father must just be waiting for me to settle in before I got pregnant. I don't say that to give me any sort of credit or praise. I just want to assure everyone that I wasn't living in a secret world of pain and disappointment for the last several months. I never felt anxious or sorry for myself every time someone announced their pregnancy. Sure there were some annoying interactions I've had with people when they have openly advised me to take the plunge and have another child, assuming it was something I didn't want. And I didn't really like when I'd tell someone how old my children are and they'd respond with an, "ah, so you should be having another one soon, don't you think?"
I really felt for whatever reason, the Lord had a plan. After all, He knows how hard it would be to move while being pregnant. I always found a bit of relief, even just a microscopic amount, in each month that passed that I wasn't pregnant. It meant at least one more month of not throwing up and one more month of enjoying and playing with my kids. I couldn't help but be concerned, though . Having gotten pregnant so easily twice before and then taking several months to get pregnant did have me wondering. I decided I needed to do all I could do and then leave the rest in the Lord's hands. So I set up a doctor's appointment to begin investigating why it was taking so long.
My doctor diagnosed me with extremely low levels of progesterone. Studies have shown that women with low-levels of progesterone have a difficult time conceiving children or staying pregnant if they do get pregnant. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I was taking oral contraceptives when I got pregnant with Cade. They didn't work so well at preventing pregancy, apparently, but they did give my body the progesterone it needed to help me conceive. About 5 months before getting pregnant with Savannah, I had begun using progesterone cream. Once we discussed we were ready for another child -- it happened. So easily. So, yes, this progesterone thing seemed to make sense.
Little did I know during that doctors appointment that I was actually pregnant. When I first realized it was a possibility, I hesitated taking a test because I was so used to getting a negative every month I thought I could be. I waited a few more days, and with my sister's encouragement while we were shopping for my little sisters' baby shower gifts, I picked up a test. The line was ever-so-faint. But it was there. I still held my breath and a few days later I took another one. This time the line was darker. I couldn't help but smile a little. I knew it was a long time before I was out of the woods, but I felt joy. Relief...excitement. I allowed myself to calculate when I would be due--- July. I had been planning for years to name my second daughter Ruby May after my great-grandmother and my grandmother. Well how fun would that be to name her after her birth stone, too? She was due close to my birthday, which I share with my Grandmother. I thought how neat it would be to have her born on our birthday? It's really hard to stop a pregnant woman from planning.
At week 5 I was concerned when I didn't get sick. It's like clockwork for me and when I didn't feel sick, I began holding my breath. Part of me thought perhaps this pregnancy was going to be different. I was a little encouraged by the thought. Imagine, a puke-free pregnancy! But another, much more dominant part of me, worried. The doctors always say that puking is a good sign. I'd always get really annoyed when I heard that with my other two pregancies because I felt so miserable. How could something that felt so awful, mean something good? I never imagined myself wishing to wake up feeling sick....and now I was.
Life is full of irony. Or maybe I just look for it everywhere. I was out with my kids shopping at the same store where I got my pregnancy test. Cade asked to go to the bathroom and I thought I'd go ahead and go myself too. And that's when I found out. It wasn't just spotting. It became very real to me that I was no longer pregnant. Just like that. One day I was pregnant and the next I wasn't.
It's sometimes a good thing that life still goes on even when something a bit heartbreaking takes place. I still had to finish grocery shopping. Still had to cook dinner that night. But I wanted to be alone, too. When Kyle got home and put his arms around me while I was at the stove, I flinched and asked him to not touch me. He asked what was wrong and I gulped back the lump in my throat and croaked, "I'm bleeding. I need to call the doctor." He didn't really seem phased by what I had said and continued to make conversation about his day.
In the quiet of the night I researched, hoping for some other explanation for bleeding. I took another pregnancy test. The line was faint, likely indicating a drop in hCG levels, indicating a miscarriage. I went to bed in a somber mood, feeling disappointment. I feel bad about the next morning. Kyle woke up chipper and I growled at him, "Do you even know what's going on?" He answered, "You're sick. Right?" Oh, wow. I guess he didn't know that bleeding while pregnant indicated problems. I just expected him to put the puzzle pieces together. So I told him. He just had a blank stare. Usually I have a hint of his emotions, but that day, I really couldn't put my finger on what he felt. He was quiet the rest of the day.
When I lived in Chicago, I made a friend who was really into statistics. She'd say stuff like, "statistically speaking, I'm due for losing my luggage on this flight. I've flown 5 times in a row without a hitch. It's time for lost bag." I soon caught on. Back in the early spring I was talking with my little sister about having baby #3, and she was excited about the prospect of having her first child. I said, "you know, statistically speaking, one of us in the family is due for some difficulty. I mean, we've all gotten pregnant easily and have given birth to healthy babies. Something's gotta happen to one of us. I mean, one of us has to at least have trouble getting pregnant or miscarrying or something. Right?" Looking back that was probably a morbid conversation to have with my little sister who was hoping to get pregnant in the coming months. We both just couldn't help but wonder. Well, fortunately, my sister got pregnant without a hitch and is due in January.
I do secretly hope that I've just gotten the statistic out of the way. Now all the girls in the family can have pregnancies and deliveries without complications, right? I don't know. I hope. But the Lord doesn't work through statistics. Though the experience discouraging, I gained something far more beneficial. I have come to recognize and appreciate my children for the miracles they are. For so long I just thought Cade was a result of us being in the .01% contraceptive statistic. And I thought Savvy was just part of our planning. Now I
know diferent. They were sent to us when they did as part of Heavenly Father's plan.
I have returned home from my vacation feeling a lot of things: determined to be a better mother to the children I have, and to be grateful for my role as a mother. To have two healthy children is a blessing I will not ever take for granted. And if we are blessed to have more, it will be another miracle.
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