James' Birth Story Part 2

Click here for Part 1

I called Brenden. My mom called my dad and just about everyone else she knew. Brenden drove straight up from work as soon as we called. Dr. Hulme called the hospital so they could get prepared for my arrival. When we got there I knew it was going to be awhile before I could eat again if I was really going to have this baby today (I was still partially in denial), so we grabbed some sandwiches at the Subway near the Women's Atrium in the hospital. I felt this was okay because I followed Dr. Hulme's orders to go straight to the hospital, I simply didn't check in as quickly as he might have been expecting me to. After finishing half of my footlong, my mom and I went up to Observation where they told me Dr. Hulme wanted me in Labor and Delivery. Shortly after I arrived in my Labor and Delivery room, Brenden showed up. I decided it was okay to have this baby now. And somehow I think that psychological acceptance allowed the labor to start progressing. 

My first nurse was a former Scottish midwife. I gave her a copy of my birth plan. We went over it together and she was fully supportive of me choosing to go all-natural. My contractions had finally started coming closer together and with a stronger intensity I expected of labor. I found out my baby was occiput posterior, or face up. We needed him to turn so I was doing squats during my contractions. I was getting through them pretty well and utilized my trusty exercise ball too. My nurse's shift ended at 7pm and I had a new nurse come in who performed my next exam.

I was still at 6 cm. I had been laboring in the hospital for about 6 hours, give or take a few minutes, at that point. The contractions had become hard and painful but I wasn't progressing. The nurse informed me Dr. Hulme wanted to artificially rupture the membranes, in other words, break my water to help labor move along. He did and the contractions became stronger. And the medical interventions I wanted to avoid started creeping up.

I was tired. I had been awake for the past three nights. I was having a hard time doing the squats they recommended I do to get the baby to turn. My new nurse recommended I lie down on my side and hopefully he would turn with this new position. I hated laboring in bed but I also hated standing up and I knew I was too tired to keep doing squats so I decided to lie on my side to get this baby to turn. 

They hooked me up to an external fetal monitor to check the baby's heart rate as they had been doing off and on throughout the day but this time they couldn't find the heartbeat. They kept looking for it but couldn't find it. I realize now it was strange that I wasn't worried about this but I wasn't. Everyone else was concerned but I just figured the baby had shifted a bit (like we wanted) and his new position made it difficult to find the heartbeat. But because nurses and doctors aren't allowed to trust a mother's intuition, they insisted I have an internal fetal monitor set up. I was not happy about that. I didn't want them attaching anything to my baby's head before he'd even had a chance to come out. But they were insistent, they needed to find the heartbeat and so, with my permission, they inserted the internal fetal monitor. They found the baby's heartbeat, recorded his heart rate, and everything was fine (as fine as hard labor can be, that is). And when they pulled the little electrode back out, there were little baby hairs attached from where it sat on his head. My baby wasn't bald! I had a new wave of energy. I don't know why my baby having hair was so important to me but it was. Don't worry, I still think bald babies are cute too.

By my next exam I had only progressed 2 cm to a lovely 8 cm. And there I sat, at 8 cm, for much too long, both in my and my doctor's opinion. I had been having strong contractions for almost 72 hours (with basically no sleep) with about 8 of those hours in serious, hard pain. I was hysterical and I couldn't calm down. All my breathing techniques flew out the window with each sharp shallow breath. I lay there praying, begging for my labor to end. Dr. Hulme recommended pitocin and an epidural but I was adamant about no epidural and I didn't want any pitocin because I knew that would make the contractions even harder. I continued to labor out of control, exhausted but stubborn. 

After they checked my progress again and I was still sitting at 8 cm, Dr. Hulme strongly recommended I get an epidural and pitocin. I was no longer in control and I was completely, utterly exhausted. Finally I consented. And once I decided I wanted the epidural, the anesthesiologist couldn't come soon enough. I got the epidural and I got the pitocin. The pain relief came but I was still uncomfortable with each contraction, struggling to get through them. I could feel incredible pressure but I wasn't in pain. 

I got the epidural and pitocin around 9pm and I finally started dilating again. When it came time to push, I was so ready. Pushing was easy for me. It was a welcome change to the previous passive stage of labor. I was excited to push and finally get that baby into this world. 

I still remember the excitement in Brenden's voice when he told me he could see the baby's head. He was at my right side, my mom was at my left. I had never heard such excitement in his voice before. He was so happy and in awe of this miracle we were experiencing together. We were doing it. After a long, LONG labor, and a relatively short pushing stage, James Atticus entered the world. He was immediately whisked away to be weighed and measured and checked, something I had wanted to postpone so I could hold him immediately and begin breastfeeding (since, during my research, I learned this practice aided in more positive breastfeeding outcomes). But, you know, it didn't bother me as much as I thought it would and I hope that doesn't sound like I didn't care about him or didn't wanted to hold my new baby. I was just tired and he was here safe and sound, which was what I was really aiming for. 

He was here.

And he was crying and crying and crying. The nurse cleaned him off and handed him over to Brenden, while I remained in bed getting stitches (is that too much information?) Almost immediately as James was put in Brenden's arms, James quieted. I couldn't believe it. Did he know it was his father holding him? Could he sense Brenden's love for him simply in the way he cradled him?  

The bond was immediate but the bonding moment was shortened as the nurse realized James' breathing wasn't normal. She checked him again. They had to suction gunk (yes, that's the official medical term...) out of him. My poor baby was welcomed into this world with bright lights, beeping machines, and a suction tube. Because of his breathing problem, they wanted to take him straight to the nursery to be checked by a fetal maternal specialist. Brenden went with them to the nursery. And I still didn't get to hold my baby.

Everyone that had come to cheer me on and meet James, came into the room to keep me company for a bit before heading over to the nursery to see the baby. My mom stayed with me the entire time.   

After a couple hours, baby James was finally brought to me. 

I held this tiny baby in my arms, completely overwhelmed. I think part of my denial that I was in labor stemmed from deeper feelings of inadequacy and unpreparedness and those feelings came to surface again as I clumsily cradled my innocent, helpless new child. 

But he was perfect and this perfection was a reminder that I didn't create this baby on my own. I would never be able to create something, someone, so perfect in this world. Remembering my Father in Heaven's hand in my son's creation, I realized I would not have to raise him on my own either. 

I had seen James while they had cleaned him up immediately after the delivery and I could tell he was beautiful. But when I held him in my arms, I was struck by his perfection. The perfectly round head with brown hair. The miniature nose and chin. The sweet baby cheeks I had been longing to kiss for months now. The two pink lips with a dimple separating the bottom lip from his chin. He was beautiful. I couldn't believe he was mine. 

I held him close to me, marveling at his flawless features. 

I was in love. 

I was so in love with my James Atticus that it didn't bother me one bit when he pooped so much it leaked out of his diaper and down onto my arm. 

Hello to you too, sweet baby boy.

James' Birth Story Part 1

James was born on September 16, 2013 at 11:20pm. A healthy 19.75 inch long and 7 lb 8 oz baby boy came screaming into this world. With a nine on the Apgar scale and a head full of hair, our James was looking good.   

I've been wanting to share this story for a little over two months now but have never known how to share it or found the time to write it down. I still don't have the time to write it down, just FYI-- I'm losing sleep over this (a rare and precious commodity)-- but I really just felt like it was time to share it. So here I am, at almost midnight, typing away.

James' birth story really began about a week before his birth day. On September 9th, Brenden began his new job in Galveston. We had just moved into the spare bedroom in my parents' house the day before (which was my birthday) while we waited for the renovations on my childhood home to finish up for us to rent. I drove up to North Houston with my mom for my 37th week check up. I found out I was about 1.5 cm dilated and 40% effaced. After the appointment, I looked up pregnancy forums where moms wrote about when they went to labor after hearing similar news and determined I could go into labor anywhere between two days and four weeks. I was sure I was going to be late but nevertheless remained vigilant for any signs of labor. The next day I started timing contractions on an app on my cell phone. They weren't strong and came and went throughout the next three days. I didn't think they were anything more than Braxton-Hicks contractions. It wasn't until Friday night, when I could no longer sleep through them because they were too strong and coming much more regularly (about every 10-15 minutes apart) that I thought they might be something more.

Here I'll give a little bit of background on my preparation for this birth to provide context for what I did next. Brenden and I, and I deliberately included Brenden in this sentence, decided we would try for an all-natural childbirth. I knew if this was going to happen we would both have to be all-in and I would need Brenden's full support. We both did tons of research. We practiced the Bradley method in the weeks leading up to the birth. We wrote out a detailed birth plan. I even considered changing from seeing an ob/gyn to a midwife whose primary experience is with natural, uncomplicated births. However, because I was considered a high-risk pregnancy and because I really liked my ob/gyn, we stayed with him and went the hospital route. Everything I'd read basically said if I wanted an all-natural childbirth in a hospital where nurses and doctors generally push for medical interventions, I would need to labor at home for as long as possible before checking into the hospital. My doctor told me to check into the hospital when my contractions were about five minutes apart, lasting one minute in length for about an hour. My contractions never made that "requirement" and I labored at home, waiting for them to increase in frequency for as long as I could. 

I labored at home for about three days. And I imagine I would have labored at home even longer had I not had my 38th week check up on the morning of September 16th. 

I didn't really sleep much during those three days of labor. The contractions were too intense and occurring about 10-15 minutes apart. 

I woke Brenden up Saturday morning at 6am, after my first sleepless night, and asked him to take me out to breakfast. I really wanted some biscuits and gravy and I was too tired to make them myself so we got ready and headed out to ShyKatz, a delicious breakfast place and deli. We went back home where I was able to take a short nap. When we woke up again, Brenden started getting ready to go back up to Spring to back up some of our belongings we left at his parents house during our hasty move to Galveston. I was originally going to go with him but because I was in pain every 10 to 15 minutes and I didn't get any sleep the night before, we figured I wouldn't be much help and I'd do better staying at home with my mom. While Brenden went up to Spring, I actually ended up going baby shopping with my mom and older brother, Reuben. I was in the dressing room of Motherhood Maternity at the Baybrook Mall when I realized the contractions I had been recording had been occurring about 5-7 minutes apart for about an hour. I kept this realization to myself until we checked out and made our way back to the car. I mentioned it to my mom who called my dad to figure out what to do and I called Brenden to let him know he might have to meet us at the hospital. I was in deep denial that I was in labor. Afterall, I was still able to talk through my contractions for the most part and still joking around, signs that I was in early labor, if I was even in labor. I was two weeks away from my due date and I knew I was going to be late, so I couldn't be in labor. I told my mom to head back to Galveston so I could get my hospital bag (which I'd left at home) and then we could drive up to North Houston. And that's what we did.

Brenden met us at the hospital and the three of us (Reuben went home to Clear Lake when we went back to Galveston) sat out in lobby of the Women's Atrium. My contractions had stopped completely as soon as we had arrived at the hospital. I knew I wasn't in labor. After expressing some deep frustrations, I bid farewell to my mom. Brenden and I decided to stay in Spring with his parents that evening in case my contractions started up again, occurring with such frequency. When we got to his parents' home (about a twenty minute drive from the hospital), my contractions came back. But they were back to being 10-15 minutes apart. That night I stayed awake, sitting up in a pink cushiony rocking chair while Brenden slept on the floor to keep me company. I think I was jealous of the sleep Brenden was able to get while I stayed awake all night so I would often wake him up whenever a contraction occurred-- just to let him know, "Hey. I'm in pain. We might have a baby soon. It's not fair you can sleep. Wake up." 

We didn't go to church the next day; instead my contractions let up long enough for me to get a couple of naps in. This break from contractions was both welcome and frustrating. I appreciated the rest but hated the sporadic nature of the contractions because I didn't know what it meant. My mom had planned a family birthday dinner for me for that evening and because I was sure I wasn't really in labor, I told her to go ahead with it and Brenden and I drove back to Galveston Sunday afternoon. During the dinner, I kept excusing myself to my bedroom every ten minutes to sit on an exercise ball and breathe through a contraction. After the contraction was over, I returned to the meal, at least for another ten minutes. I had another sleepless night, this time I spent it on the exercise ball while Brenden slept in bed. 

The next morning, the morning of the 16th, I got a brief nap in before I had to get ready for my 38 week check up. My mom was going to drive me up since Brenden was in job training for his second week of work. On the drive up to my doctor's office, my contractions became closer in frequency, about seven minutes apart, until we actually got to the office when they became less frequent, back to about ten minutes. That morning Dr. Hulme had performed an emergency c-section and was very behind on his appointments. I think I waited almost an hour before I got out of the waiting room. I tried to sit patiently and remain as inconspicuous as possible while I breathed through my contractions. I still didn't believe I was in labor and I didn't want to make a scene in the crowded waiting room. 

The nurse eventually took me back and hooked me up to a fetal monitor where we determined my contractions were occurring about thirteen minutes apart and were fairly intense. She didn't seem concerned. When I saw Dr. Hulme, however, he finished his exam and told me I should go ahead and go straight over to the hospital. I shouldn't stop for anything along the way. I jokingly mentioned I had some library books I needed to return and he rather firmly stated I shouldn't even stop for lunch (yeah, right, don't deny a pregnant lady who has gone for the last three hours without eating something substantial her lunch.)

Apparently I was six centimeters dilated and almost fully effaced. He told me I was going to have this baby today.

Click Here for Part 2!

On the Home Stretch

In the early hours of this morning after one of my many visits to bathroom, I climbed back into bed and started thinking of my pregnancy and my little boy. I thought about the pink stretch marks forming across my abdomen that I had mostly avoided during pregnancy and I thought about my aching, stiff back that comes every time I get up from any reclining position. I thought about my feet that have begun to grow larger by the end of each day and the daily battles of hunger and fatigue.

I was lying on my left side with my large belly propped up by a pillow. I'm normally a back sleeper but after I reached about 20 weeks in the pregnancy I had to adjust my sleeping position because my growing uterus would put extra pressure somewhere on my back and it wouldn't be good for me or the baby.

To be completely honest, my train of thought originated at Cafe Rio, my favorite burrito place located in Utah.  And I started listing off all the places I could go for lunch later today that were similar but not as good: Freebirds, Chipotle, Bullritos. In Athens, we had Barberitos, which was amazing, but during my first trimester I couldn't keep down a delicious burrito no matter how hard I tried. The regurgitated mess of beans, rice, meat, and tortilla was a lovely reminder that my body was no longer my own.

There have been many discomforts of pregnancy that intellectually I knew I would encounter and tried to brace myself for but I never realized the toll they would take both physically and emotionally. Each day I am physically exhausted before the day is through and I feel emotionally beat wondering how much longer I can do this while recognizing these nine months of pregnancy are only the very beginning of years of physical and emotional exhaustion.

But while I was lying on my side in bed, I tried to picture our little boy growing up with us as his parents. I thought of Brenden wrestling with him and teaching him about Batman and I thought of trips to the library and spending time with his grandparents. I thought about him running around outside with a superhero cape on. I thought about those years of exhaustion coupled with years of the otherwise unattainably unique joy of family life and parenthood.

With a small smile to myself, I recognized that I am truly realizing one of my lifelong dreams. Before I could even form legitimate words, I had wanted to be a mother.  I didn't know all that role would entail then, nor do I pretend to now, but I knew inside of me it was something I was meant to do. I realized how lucky and blessed I am to have this opportunity to bring a new special life into this world.

With every little (and big) kick and elbow nudge, I am reminded my life is not my own. I am part of a bigger plan and the minor discomforts of this pregnancy cannot compare to the joy and excited anticipation I feel as I contemplate this next phase of my life, this part I have waited for for the entirety of my conscious existence.

Dear Baby Boy,

I am so excited to meet you. I have waited my whole life for you. I love you more than you could ever realize.

Love,
Your Mommy

On Being Pregnant: Second Trimester

And so we move onto the...

2nd Trimester:

Brenden and I decided to announce our pregnancy to the general public the first day of the second trimester. We had decided on this day long before we realized that my second trimester began on April Fool's Day. We considered waiting to announce it until the day after April Fool's Day because we didn't want people to doubt us but then we realized we didn't actually care if people doubted us. We thought it would even add to the fun of the announcement. So on April 1st, the first day of the second trimester, right around midnight, I posted a little puzzle to announce the pregnancy. We loved the responses and congratulations. 

My morning sickness mostly subsided during the second trimester. I did discover my gag reflex is much more sensitive than before. But I'm glad I don't feel like throwing up every day anymore.

The first time I was sure I felt the baby move was right around the middle of 17 weeks. I was attending a trumpet recital and as soon as the performers began, I could feel the baby moving. The baby kept moving throughout the remainder of the recital. I don't think the baby's hearing is developed enough at that point to be the explanation behind the sudden and sustained movement for the duration of the recital but it's fun to think about. Baby continues to be super active and makes sure I know about baby's existence; I get good kicks and punches pretty regularly. At every ultrasound and heart tones check up, Baby is constantly moving around, sometimes making it difficult to get a good heart rate reading or a good ultrasound picture. When I first noticed Baby's movements, I would burst out laughing because I found the sensation so strange and exciting. Brenden joined in my laughter because I apparently looked like a crazy person. I've grown used to the movements now but I still find them exciting every day and enjoy the sudden reminder that I have a sweet baby growing inside me.

At 18 weeks we had our big exciting ultrasound where we could find out the sex of our baby. Brenden and I were adamant about keeping it a surprise but when we saw our little baby on the screen we realized we had to know. We took back what we said to our ultrasound technician and asked the doctor if he knew what we were having. He told us and we told our family. Everyone else will have to wait until we do a big gender reveal at the baby shower. Be excited! It's either a boy or a girl! 

Near the end of the first trimester, I started expanding. Now in the second trimester I feel like I am ballooning. I have three pairs of maternity pants and a few shirts I can wear in public. I wear drawstring and yoga pants and Brenden's t-shirts while I'm at home. I think the only pre-pregnancy clothes I can still wear are my socks. By the way, I love my maternity jeans. I think I might wear them for the rest of my life. 

I think my biggest struggle during the second trimester has been getting comfortable enough to sleep through the night. Since Brenden has been away at Philmont for the last two weeks, I've been able to utilize our entire queen bed and all EIGHT of our pillows. For the first time in a long time, I've been able to sleep through the night on a semi-regular basis. We'll have to see how things change once he returns.

I'm not sure if the concept that Brenden and I are going to have a child has fully settled in my mind yet. I feel like I should be more scared than I am right now. I expect some of the fear will show up in the third trimester and certainly once we take our sweet baby home from the hospital. I guess right now I'm purely excited for this new chapter in our lives. It's a feeling I want to soak in as long as I can.

On Being Pregnant: First Trimester

I am 27 weeks pregnant this week and our baby is somewhere around the size of a rutabaga, apparently. I get weekly email updates about my pregnancy and in each one some item of produce is used as measurement for the size of my growing child. I just thought I should mention this for anyone who doesn't get weekly updates like these. They're not very good measures. For example, it could easily say:  27 weeks: "This week your baby is the size of a rutabaga!" 28 weeks: "This week your baby is the size of an even larger rutabaga!" Or like the week when I was told my baby was the size of an avocado-- okay, well is that an avocado from Walmart or the Mexican food market? There's quite a difference.

Anyway, I thought I would give a little update on my exciting experience of growing a human being inside of me. Next week marks the beginning of my third trimester and I figure I should share some of my experience with the blogosphere.

Here's a little recap on what went down this first trimester:

1st Trimester: 

Brenden and I found out we were expecting a baby on January 26th. I took a few different pregnancy tests to confirm it and Brenden laughed at my excitement with each positive answer. It was a wonderful day! 

I contacted an OB/GYN in Athens the next Monday. Because of my chronic illness and other exciting health things, I'm considered a high-risk pregnancy. I've had more check ups and ultrasounds than a normal pregnancy would. I had an amazing rheumatologist in Atlanta who took great care of me and stuck me with needles every single visit I had to keep track of basically anything and everything. We learned our baby is at risk for fetal heart block. This is something we are currently keeping tabs on. Also, I have a particularly large uterine fibroid which is basically a noncancerous tumor. It can grow during pregnancy so my doctors are keeping track of that as well. Luckily, its location shouldn't be a problem for a normal delivery for me. It just takes up a bit of space that the baby could use so I get to grow especially large and uncomfortable during pregnancy. It could become particularly painful sometime during the pregnancy but it isn't likely.  

I experienced quite a bit of morning sickness during my first trimester. I learned to be okay with throwing up. I became adept at distinguishing when I was just feeling sick and when I was about to expel my last meal. I prided myself on always knowing the exact right time to run to the toilet. 

Even though I didn't throw up ALL the time, I did feel sick almost all the time. I had plans to volunteer and work during Brenden's last semester at UGA. Those plans fell through as I spent much of my time in bed, feeling miserable. But happy miserable! After my illness and stint in the hospital last year, being pregnant sick was awesome. I had a wonderful reason behind my sickness.

While being sick, I was unable to hold down a lot of my favorite foods so I discovered some "comfort" foods that I found tolerable. I stockpiled those particular items. I am opening myself up for judgment here but I don't care. All I could eat some days were cheap pizzas from the frozen aisle at the grocery store and Spaghetti-o's. I literally mean "all I could eat" since there were days I would make myself healthy meals with all of the nutrition and nourishment the baby needs to grow big and strong just to throw it all up while the only thing I could hold down at the end of the day was a can of Spaghetti-o's or a Totino's pizza. I tried my best to be healthy-- I bought the calcium enriched Spaghetti-o's. I figured not starving while pregnant was a better alternative to starving while pregnant. I think in general not starving is a better alternative to starving but particularly so whilst pregnant. 

So first trimester I was sick a lot and ate junk to stay alive. I had doctors' visits and blood tests galore. The End. 

An Update from a Month Ago!!!

Here's a post I wrote when we first moved back to Spring:

Blog Post 5.16.13

Looking Back, Catching Our Breath, & Looking Forward

                These past few weeks have been ridiculous. In addition to finishing up one of the scariest semesters I’ve ever had (chamber music recital, Master’s orals examinations, four term papers and a final – all of this over the course of five weeks), we also packed up all our stuff and moved. Also I graduated with a Master’s degree in Music performance from the University of Georgia and we had a lot of family visit us to celebrate and help us move.

                The last semester saw some huge changes for our family. I decided not to pursue a Doctoral degree in music or even a career in music. I’m going to keep playing the tuba and plan to put on a recital every summer because it would be a horrible waste to have put in as much work as I have and then stop playing. Also because I would probably go insane. I’m also looking into starting a small private teaching studio. I’m considering a lot of things for employment over the next year. I’ve started looking into other career options and am planning to go for another round of school at University of Houston after gaining Texas residency status. I have my eye on a career in dentistry because it would allow for an ideal work family balance, we’d be comfortable/secure financially, and because I have an uncle and a grandpa who were/are dentists. They’ve both warned me that it’s not all cake and roses, but I like to think I could handle it. We decided to start a family and have our first child on the way (with an ETA of late September/early October).

                A smaller-scale bit of news that I learned recently and am super pumped about (I don’t get super pumped, so this is kind of an anomaly on my excitement scale) is that I get to go to Philmont with my Dad in mid-June. Philmont is often referred to as “scouter’s paradise” and for good reason. It’s a huge camp where crews go backpacking for a bit over a week in the mountains of New Mexico. I had the good fortune of going to Philmont back in 2006 when I was 16 and now I get to go again as an adult leader. Having done scout camp a few summers ago as an assistant scoutmaster, I can say from experience that the adults get some sweet perks. That is, as far as perks go when you’re roughing it in the backcountry. I think you’re supposed to start training for Philmont at least 6 months in advance. I get 6 weeks. So now I have to recover from the steady stream of sugar and caffeine that got me through the end of the semester. So far, so good.

Some thoughts on Boston

This morning I was writing in a journal I started keeping since I learned I was pregnant. I haven't been very diligent about it but I've been having this nagging guilty feeling every time I've seen my journal sitting on a table in the house and this morning I finally picked it up and started writing while I ate a bowl of cereal.

I felt inclined to write, particularly after hearing about the bombings in Boston. I had feelings I wanted to sort out and I didn't think it would be right to completely ignore such a tragedy in a journal I hope this baby will someday read. I don't want this child to think his/her mother had some falsely optimistic view of this scary world we live in. I want my child to know I am aware of the evils of this world and even though they exist, I did deliberately bring him/her into this world.

I think it's significant that this is the first entry in this journal that I addressed directly to my child. As I was writing, I realized the entry turned out a lot different than what I had originally anticipated. I imagined explaining my confusion and despair over the events that occurred two days ago. I thought I would write about how I cried for an hour after hearing about the attacks and I couldn't completely understand why. I thought I would apologize for how terrifying and evil the world is and how sorry I was that this is the life we, as a society, have created.

What I wrote instead both surprised me and didn't surprise me:

My sweet little baby, sometimes scary things happen in the world. They happen a lot actually and some people might even wonder why we are bringing you into such a scary world. I hope you will be able to see the good in the world as you grow up and that you will never become weary. Even when there are so many bad things happening, they cannot compare to the good things in life. If you took all of the bad things and somehow added them all up into one big gigantic bad thing, it would still not compare to the glorious joy and light of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Did you know that? I hope you will come to know it. There is nothing bigger or more consuming than the Gospel. It is for everyone everywhere and can bring joy and peace throughout all of the world. If you are ever frightened or saddened by the scary things in the world, remember the joy and peace of the Gospel and the love Heavenly Father and your Savior have for you. Remember that because of them, good will always prevail in the end and darkness will be cast out by radiant light.    

When bad things happen, sometimes people ask where is God in all of this? Because God has given us agency to choose right or wrong, He will not stop people from making bad choices but He will help us fix them. God is always there. You can see Him in everyone who is trying to make things right.

You can see Him in the first responders at the scene and medical personnel at the hospitals. You can see Him in the bystanders turned heroes. You can see Him in the family and friends comforting one another. You can see Him in residents offering their homes and food to the stranded. You can see Him in those mourning with those that mourn. God is there with the people affected by the bombings in Boston. He is with us always.

Best Spring Break Ever

Hi Folks! I know it's been a long time since I wrote anything on this blog. You probably know that too, so let's cut to the chase!

(Regarding the title of this post: the thoughtful reader may do well to note that I never had Spring breaks at BYU and Natalie was severely ill during spring break last year. So the only legitimate competition for the title of Best Spring Break Ever occurred way back in high school. Your spring break experiences are automatically disqualified.)

This past week was my spring break and Natalie's & my longtime friend, Missy Bethke came to town (she has family here in Athens). Resplendent shenanigans ensued.

It all began last Friday because my classes were all cancelled. I don't remember what Natalie and I did on Friday. Now I remember. We went to the library and I checked out an entire series of comic books and stayed up really late reading them.

On Saturday, Missy came into town. Natalie and I had to clean our house a lot before she got here. But we slept in instead so I had to clean when Natalie and Missy did stuff. For Dinner we went to the Last Resort Grill, which is a fantastic local restaurant. We also visited a local bookstore and an antique store.

On Sunday, Missy came to church with us and then we went to the State Botanical Gardens of Georgia. There wasn't much blooming or even leafy at the gardens, but it's still a beautiful place and we had fun. It was a beautiful day.

On Monday, we watched Les Miserables at the $2.50 Theater (which was until recently the two-dollar-theater). I don't think you need me to tell you to watch this movie if you haven't yet. I'm going to have to read that book some day. But first I have to get through Atlas Shrugged and a handful an armload of other books I'm already reading/planning to read.

On Tuesday, we went to Treehouse Kid and Craft, an arts and crafts store, so Natalie could sign up for a beginning sewing class she's going to take. It turns out that this store has some of the most amazing children's stuff I've ever seen. They had a two-foot tall monochromatic brontosaurus statue (for shelf decor), a hand-tuned 16-tone silver heirloom rattle, little bow ties that can unroll into superhero capes, awesome art prints, a wooden chalkboard-laptop, and a technicolor inflated rocking/bouncing horse/donkey called Rody (among other things). After visiting Treehouse Kid and craft, Natalie and Missy went to the Georgia Museum of Art on UGA campus while I practiced tuba. After that, we went to the Athens Visitor Center to get information for our future adventures on Wednesday and Thursday.

On Wednesday, we went to Tallulah Gorge State Park. It was a lot of fun. It wasn't a very long hike in terms of mileage, but it was one of the most exhausting hikes I've ever been on in terms of exhaustion units per mile. It was only a five-mile (ish?) hike down the gorge floor along the river to the end of the trail at Bridal Veil Falls and then back up again. Along the way we went up and down 531 stairs, crossed a suspension bridge, crossed a river by jumping from rock to rock (except for when we had to tread water because the river was too high), and climbing across a very slippery boulder that was a cliff face above and went down straight into the river. Missy actually fell in the river at this part and had to swim downstream a little to get to a place where she could climb out of the water. The water was very cold. Luckily, Missy was planning to swim and we had all our electronics in sealed plastic bags. After Missy, fell in, Natalie decided not to do the slippery climbing and waited for me and Missy to hike the rest of the way and back. When we got to the end of the trail, there was a natural waterslide and Missy went for an intentional swim. When we had to climb back across the slippery climbing place, Missy had a much easier time than before and did not fall in. I did not fall in but I had a really hard time climbing across. And I mean a really hard time. I even tore a huge hole in the front of my shirt (and it was my Philmont shirt too!). After that we continued back up the way we came (climbing over boulders, crossing the river, and then up the stairs). It was a lot of stairs and we were all exhausted at the end. Then we got ice cream to refresh ourselves.

RIP Philmont Shirt

Draining the water out of my boots after crossing the river

On Thursday, we went to Atlanta. We visited the place where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was born. There was also a museum we visited where we learned about the civil rights movement. We visited the Atlanta LDS Temple. Then we went and got dinner at Gladys Knight and Ron Winan's Chicken and Waffles. Pretty much everything I had there was the best of that thing I've ever had. Fried green tomatoes, fried chicken, waffles, mac & cheese, green beans. It was awesome. They played lots of funk and soul and such, so I used my Shazam app and now I have a list of all the songs we heard there. There's a special place in my heart for this kind of music because my mom always played Earth, Wind, and Fire when I was growing up. And because it rocks.

"Martin Luther King, Jr. was born in this house; January 15, 1929"

 

 

After Dinner, we went to the Shakespeare Tavern and saw a fantastic production of Much Ado about Nothing. They took some surprising interpretive liberties, inserting some contemporary references and humor. It's amazing to me how much life actors can give to the texts they're reciting. There was even a hurdy gurdy.

On Friday and Saturday Natalie and I watched the entire season of Firefly for the first time. SO GOOD. We also caught up on sleep and continued recovering from our hike. "You can't take the sky from me-ee..."

On Sunday we had dinner with Missy's family again. It's always fun to visit them. They have a new puppy named Maple. She's beautiful and very enthusiastic, but she has no idea how big she is.

Go Dawgs!

Well that pretty much wraps up my account of Spring Break 2013. We had excellent adventures with excellent company. Aside from the travels I've written about, we had a great time with Missy just relaxing, conversing, and eating good food.

Thoughts this morning

After about six hours of sleeping in increasing increments (1 hour, then 2 hours, and then a glorious full 3 hours), I woke up this morning thinking about my friends. I'm not sure if my thoughts were remnants of a dream I had just left or something my mind wandered to in those brief quiet moments of clarity after waking, but I woke with a deep appreciation for the friendships I've formed throughout the years. I decided I needed to record these feelings before I rolled back over in bed to sleep for a little longer and, as a result, forgot everything.

I suppose you can never be too old to appreciate certain things in your life but I feel it's taken me a long time to recognize the deep love and care I've experienced from so many people I call my friends. I have a strong tendency towards being an introvert and this inward pull sometimes makes me very self-centered. Because I prefer solitude or the quiet company of only a few individuals at a time, I often skip out on the large social gatherings that would introduce me to new people and facilitate new friendships; I find them incredibly draining and often uncomfortable. Some people probably consider me unfriendly and awkward. I've experienced a fair share of loneliness, particularly since moving to Georgia where I have no connections that precede me (except, of course, my marriage). I've slowly made a few friends and I'm so grateful for those thoughtful people who have both given us and responded to invitations.

But the friendships I woke thinking of this morning are friendships I've held throughout the years. In my self-centered isolation of increasing loneliness and depression, I've forgotten and neglected these friends, who I believe would jump to my aid if I asked. I recognize that I am not the greatest friend. I am terrible at keeping in touch and I am the only one to blame for this. I think as I've neglected my dear friends they've stepped back a few steps, ready to greet me if I said hello but keeping their distance to avoid any tension caused by long silences. Maybe this is too optimistic for me to think. Maybe those friends who I think are just a few steps away have actually given up and are walking somewhere else now. Maybe I'm still thinking too much of myself, presumptuously assuming people I may have unintentionally offended still care for me.

I'm not so sure. I have some pretty remarkable friends who, in my various times of need, have always stepped up and said, "I'm here. I've been here the whole time." Despite my own neglect of our friendships, they are there for me. They carry on with their lives as I carry on with mine, but they do not forget me. I am so grateful for them.

I think of my experience last year when I was very sick and spent almost a week in the hospital. I was overwhelmed by the love I felt during that physically miserable time. The windowsill in my tiny hospital room was covered with vases full of beautiful flowers. Nurses enjoyed passing my room because they could smell the flowers. I never once had to eat the hospital food brought to me on a tray because a friend had brought something else for me-- a donut or burrito for breakfast, Chinese takeout for lunch, homemade enchiladas for dinner. I had visitors around the clock. I often had to ask people to step outside when my doctors came by. Even my doctors commented on how much I must be loved. My internist told me that he had never seen a patient's room so decorated with flowers, balloons and stuffed animals or visited so often by so many different people. Even past visiting hours before I'd gone to sleep, friends who worked in the hospital would stop by to check on me. Friends who I thought I may have pushed away with my silence were there by my side.

Today one of my best friends, Missy Bethke, is coming to visit me and Brenden. It's Brenden's spring break week and she had originally made the plans with the intention of keeping me company while Brenden went to a conference in Florida. He decided to forgo the conference and now we'll have plenty of time to spend together. She visited last year too, arriving two days before my sudden and unexpected departure to Texas because of my illness. She spent an afternoon with me doing my dishes and picking up around the house while I lied on the couch, wrapped in blankets. Probably not her idea of an Easter vacation but she insisted despite my protests. Missy has been a great, sweet friend since I met her my first semester at BYU. We are different in many ways but we are also very alike in others and I wonder if we would have discovered our likenesses and friendship if we hadn't been roommates that fateful first semester. I can't even begin to imagine how different my life would be if Missy wasn't a part of it.

I know I have been greatly blessed to have been surrounded by such loving and thoughtful people throughout my life. Heavenly Father has placed every person I know in my life for a reason. My friends and my family make my life meaningful.

You make my life meaningful. I know my Heavenly Father loves me because you have been a blessing in my life. I know this hardly begins to express my gratitude for you but thanks for being my friend.