Musings on Pregnancy and Labor

Hopefully I’ll be able to make sense out of a few of my thoughts with my current muddled baby brain. Just a little longer now before our new little bundle of joy will be here. I’ve been having to juggle between what needs to still be done and what I can actually do without setting myself up for an extra early delivery (something I’d really rather not do!)

There’s so much that I find interesting about pregnancy. The thing that’s been on my mind mostly lately is that I’m heading into that “lovely” time when it has to be preferable to go through the pain of labor and whatever may follow than dealing with the uncomfort of pregnancy any longer. I try not to complain because I know it has its purpose – after all who in their right mind would subject themselves to labor unless it was preferable to the alternative.

I think it was soon after Monkey was born and I was discussing it with someone else the idea that we have a very selective memory when it comes to pain, especially the pain of birth. I said if we didn’t that no one would have ever had more than one child. Although I never wanted to hurt anyone during labor and never yelled all those things that you hear about in labor stories (“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!?!”) I do remember wanting to smack the nurses for being what I considered artificially supportive and sweet. They kept just telling me how well I was doing even though I was convinced of the very opposite. My mantra at the end was that despite the seeming impossibility of what my body was about it do that women had been doing this for thousands of years and I could too. I’m not sure how well I believed myself either.

As time passed a little I told myself that it wasn’t exactly selective memory because I realized I would never forget how painful it was just that all the pain was swallowed up in the joy and miracle of new life.  As the boys were each born I wondered over the miracle and what followed as well. Why was I willing to do this again? I knew that as amazingly perfect as these new little gifts were, pregnancy, labor, and motherhood were the greatest challenges I had ever experienced and would ever experience in life. Why would I do that to myself? Why would I want to add more to my already overflowing plate? Why was I still listening to those nurses telling me I was a superwoman when I was so full of pain and fear and was sure they were only saying what they said to each new momma to try sound supportive?

Then I realized it’s true, and even though they may say it to each woman who delivers, it doesn’t make it less true. We are super women. What we do is impossibly hard. I wonder now though if that isn’t part of it. No who we are though and no matter the challenge we face – when we have reached the other side we are stronger for it. We no longer have to wonder if we could be that strong, we can say that we were and that we are. Strength is only built or discovered as we face those hardest of hard things. We are designed to find fulfillment in the challenges of life.

So to that I say, it doesn’t matter that those stairs still seem like a mountain or that I can’t see my toes, this challenge too will pass into joy in its own time and its own way and whatever happens I will be the stronger and better for it. I just need to look for the blessings and continue to have faith in myself and the gifts I am given by He who has endured all and loves us all.

Family Forever

Once upon a time I was a stupid teenager. I had some things happen that I let damage my self-esteem pretty bad and ended up with a crowd of friends who although not ill-intentioned, simply did not have my same standards. Although I never committed any "serious" sins there was a short time when I was not worthy to enter the temple.

That may seem a bit strange or harsh to people not of our faith but we believe that the temples are the most sacred and holy places on earth - we believe that they are the House of God and the scriptures say "that all men, everywhere, must repent, or they can in nowise inherit the kingdom of God, for no unclean thing can dwell there, or dwell in his presence" (Moses 6:57). If we want to be in God's House, if we hope to dwell in His Presence we must be clean and worthy.

So there I was, unable to enter the House of the Lord. All my life I grew up knowing how special temples were and it was devastating to me not to be able worthy to participate in those sacred experiences. My top priority became repentance and taking hold of the blessings of the Atonement so that I could return. I remember a special blend of feeling joyful and humble when I was able at last to enter in again that I now feel each time I enter. 

It was soon after this time that I found my favorite Primary song - I had always loved music and especially the church songs but this one took on special meaning to me.

I have a family here on earth.

They are so good to me.

I want to share my life with them through all eternity.

 Families can be together forever

Through Heavenly Father's plan.

I always want to be with my own family,

And the Lord has shown me how I can.

The Lord has shown me how I can.

 While I am in my early years,

I'll prepare most carefully,

So I can marry in God's temple for eternity.

 Families can be together forever

Through Heavenly Father's plan.

I always want to be with my own family,

And the Lord has shown me how I can.

The Lord has shown me how I can.

 

If there was a blessing in all that I went through, it was that I appreciated temples and eternal families like I had never done before. I knew with certainty that I could never settle for anything that wasn't forever. I wanted my family to be eternal and that I would have to continue to make sure that I was worthy and focused if that was going to happen.

Fast forward a bit and I knelt across the alter from my very best friend and made sacred promises with him and the Lord that no matter what came our way we would stay focused on eternity together. When I look at my husband, my children, when I think of my parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents - I feel an indescribable joy and overwhelming gratitude for how very blessed I am. I am so grateful that the priesthood was restored and that temples are once again on the earth and that we can be sealed together as a family forever.

 

In our ward during April we focused a lot on temples and families. We made a ward goal for everyone to try and get their families to go to the temple together - at least to walk around the grounds and feel the Spirit there. We were able to go as a family to both Boston and Montreal and see the temples there. 

 

No my kids weren't the most reverent while we there, yes it was a difficult thing to get everyone together and do the long drive. Would I do it again? Of course! Even though it was challenging and I imagine it will remain so no matter what the future brings, having our family together at the temple, teaching our children that they are part of our family forever, showing them how much we love them and God loves them are some of the most treasured moments of my life. 

 

I hope that by helping them focus on the things of eternity so they will be able to remember who they are and where they are going and know without a doubt that they are children of a Heavenly Father who loves them, and wants to keep the commandments and be clean not only so that they can be happy in this life but so He can bring them home to live with Him again to live in his eternal joy with all our loved ones together forever. 

my greatest blessings

The Ultrasound that Changed Everything and Nothing: My Experience with Miscarriage

This is Tiger's ultrasound. It was a magical moment when we got our first glimpse of our baby to be. I still remember that day vividly. EC, Monkey and I all gathered in the tiny little ultrasound room anxiously wondering what would see and if we would be lucky enough to find out gender etc. I remember Monkey's disappointment (okay outright denial) that it was going to be a boy, my fear at the idea of trying to raise a boy and all of that.

Fast forward to July 2011... we were back at the hospital anxiously awaiting again. This time Tiger was with us. I'd been prepping Monkey for the week she'd known about the pregnancy that it could be anything - a boy or a girl (she had been hoping for twins... just as long as it wasn't two more boys) my specific words to her were "you know it doesn't matter what it is as long as it's healthy."

The kids happily bounced down the hall to the little room, even more joyously crowded this time. I anxiously and excitedly held hubby's hand. Finally the technician began. I knew something didn't look quite right but I told myself that maybe it was just the prep pictures and I just didn't remember anything but the cute ones they sent home with us. Then the technician broke the news... there was no heart beat. The fog of denial began and I tried to convince myself that it was no big deal... so what if there's no heartbeat, maybe it was just too early for that,  maybe it wasn't a good picture, maybe the machine was broken...maybe...

As I began to realize the full significance of the moment I clung desperately on to the few remaining lifeline strings of my sanity. They were this:

1. I knew that whatever I was going through was something that lots and lots of women have gone through... and worse. I've been so blessed by all those women that have shared their pain prior to my own experience... maybe not in the details of the events, that would probably be too much to handle, but just knowing how many wonderful women I knew that had been through what I was going through was a huge uplift beyond description. It's also interesting because the doctor's told me that about 20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage. That doesn't really sound like a lot but it's one out of every five pregnancies. I think most of the women I know have either miscarried, miscarried multiple times, had a still born baby, a baby that died in infancy, or have had difficulty conceiving. Considering that it's also not something most women feel comfortable sharing there's probably others that I know that I just don't know about.

2. My family. Instantly I realized that I couldn't change it and since I couldn't change it I shouldn't dwell on it. After all, I had a great husband and two wonderful children. I also still had my overall health to be with them. How ungrateful would I be if I allowed this one loss to consume my life.(like I felt could so easily happen if I even momentarily walked that path).

3. I'd already been through trials and loss that year and been forced to come to an understanding deep within myself that even when I didn't understand why something was happening that it was all part of the bigger plan. For whatever purpose or reason, Heavenly Father was still in control and as long as I allowed Him to stay that way, I would be able to sometime find peace and joy that would overcome all those other moments of pain and loss. In the middle of everything I came across a quote in the June 2011 Ensign Magazine from Elder Richard G. Scott that helped give me a bit of perspective- "Trust in the Lord... Just when all seems to be going right, challenges often come in multiple doses applied simultaneously. When those trials are not consequences of your disobedience, they are evidence that the Lord feels you are prepared to grow more. He therefore gives you experiences that stimulate growth, understanding and compassion, which polish you for your everlasting benefit. To get you from where you are to where He wants you to be requires a lot of stretching, and that generally entails discomfort and pain."

That isn't to say it was easy. The baby had stopped growing a few weeks before the ultrasound. It wasn't until a few weeks after that I finally miscarried. The whole time I felt like an anxious ticking time bomb and didn't understand why my body would do this to me - why I wasn't strong enough to carry the baby through the pregnancy and why it now couldn't even pull it together enough to recognize that something was wrong and get it all over with. I bounced around all over the grief cycle for a long time and those fears didn't all magically go away when we finally found out that would were expecting Bear - having suffered loss before made me that much more worried about what could happen. Even still looking at my family I thank Heavenly Father for each day I have with them because I know intimately just how precious it is.

Looking back I can see how much certain things that people did or didn't do really helped as well. Thankfully the few people we talked about it with were amazing. Most of them simply asked "How are you holding up?" and let me share whatever I was ready to share.  One family brought over dinner. Another family invited the kids over for a few extra playdates. After I sent an e-mail blubbering about not being sure of how to handle Primary (I was the Primary President at the time), our wonderful Stake leaders made a special trip to take care of sharing time. One of our friends even let me borrow a copy of a book that had just come out and as soon as they had finished so I wouldn't have to wait for it to become available at the library.

It's funny but I was amazed at the impact of those little gestures. I didn't necessarily need to talk about it with everyone, or get the 3rd degree about what had happened. What I needed most was time to pull myself together and gentle reminders that I wasn't alone, that I had a lot of wonderful people who loved me and cared about me.

Unfortunately all women aren't so lucky.  One of my friends miscarried a few years ago and someone who meant well ended up saying the wrong things and ended up making the experience much harder. I know she isn't alone. Often it seems people in their rush to say something consoling just don't think before they speak so in my experience and opinion here are some things that you might not want to say.

First, it is NEVER okay to start making guesses at why it happened. The only thing that does is bring pain. The mom at that point doesn't need to hear from anyone that that maybe if she had just done things differently then it wouldn't have happened. That's between her, her husband, and her doctors - no one else. (Please also remember a lot of the time it's simply a fluke of genetics and nothing could have changed anything.) As for "it's all part of the plan" response - that's something once again the family needs to come to peace with on their own - the only thing hearing it from another person does is make them resentful.  "You can try again" just negates the hardship that the family has been through and places more weight on the ability/timing of trying again - to the point of making some women unhealthily obsessed with it instead of just allowing time to heal the wounds and take its course.

Those are just some of the experiences that stood out to me, I'm sure that other well meant words could be taken just as poorly. Still, everyone also has a different experience. As one friend said she had seen someone that bounced back the next day and another that pretty much couldn't leave her bedroom for over 6 months. And just in case you're wondering no, I don't think it's because some women are "stronger" than others, it is all just still a part of pregnancy - there all sorts of hormones and physical pain in addition to the emotional pain that goes on with all of it and there's also a lot to be said about personal circumstances and experience before it happens too.
 
I will go one step further about all of this- this is hard on the Dads too. My guess would be that pretty much the same rules apply to them as well- watch your words, remember they're likely to be pretty protective of their wives at this point and even though they're generally not as free to grieve openly over the loss, it's still a loss for them.

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month and I had been debating if I should share my story since it's been a while and then my dear friend lost her little one only a few weeks into the pregnancy. I can't take away her pain or even claim to know what she is feeling right now. What I can do is offer up my support and encouragement and say you're not alone. 

Remembering Septemeber 28, 1995

I still remember it almost as vividly as I remember yesterday, in some ways it's even more vivid. It was a pretty average September day for me in 1995. I was running late for 7^th grade as my parents helped me put the finishing touches on a Social Studies project. I felt awful that I had procrastinated (yet again) and missed the bus, forcing my mother to drive me all the way out to school – a good twenty minutes or more out in the rural countryside and the opposite direction from her work.

As the first class change came that day I was showing my project to a friend and walking slowly, far behind everyone else and bound to be late for our next class when another girl we knew came racing around the corner of the building. I can still remember her strawberry-blonde curls flying out behind her and the panic stricken look on her face as she raced past us screaming that someone had been shot. At first I thought it was some sort of bad joke, convinced that things like that only happened in the movies, not in real life and certainly not in towns as small and close-knit as I thought ours was. Her words were confirmed moments after in the look of terror on our school secretary’s face as she screamed for everyone to get inside the classrooms.

We waited, locked in the classrooms for what seemed like an eternity. The only thing we knew for sure was that there was a gun and someone had been shooting. The teachers tried desperately to keep things as “normal” as possible. For the students that were in the right place that meant a few poorly timed jokes followed by some busy work. My two friends that were with me tried to work on homework. I wasn't so lucky and there was nothing for me to do aside from wait so I began to write and pour out my heart on paper writing a poem that still to me captures the tumult of emotions I was experiencing. 

After what seemed like hours the official announcement came that there had been a shooting. Nothing more was said then but everyone was gathered to the cafeteria and in the days before everyone had a cell phone the few that were found were eagerly passed around as we all tried to contact our parents and arrange to be picked up.

By the time we left the outside world knew more about the situation than we did. As it turns out, a 14-year-old boy brought a gun to school and fatally shot another student who had only been 13. I had been within 30 or 40 feet from the end of the building where I would have been a first-hand witness. At first the investigators said it might have been a personal grudge or even a racist attack. There was some strong suggestions of gang-activity. In the end it seems like it was just a tragic case of a youth who was mad at the world finally reaching a breaking point. 

As the students and staff of the school tried to pick up the pieces amidst the grief counselors, television reporters, and instructional sessions from police I thanked my Heavenly Father for the blessings that He had given to me through all of it. As I look back now I am even more grateful for the things I was able to learn even in the middle of all the turmoil.

The first thing I learned is that we can never show too much love or kindness to someone else. As I sat waiting to know what happened my first thoughts were for my classmates and friends. I didn’t know if I’d see them again. Were my last words to them words of kindness and love or had I been mean and rude? Would I ever get the chance to let them know what they meant to me?

I learned that we never know who is hurting inside and needs our help. I rode on the same bus pretty much every day as the boy who brought the gun to school. As often as I had seen him I had no idea that he was capable of such violence. Others that were closer to him knew a little more of his aggressive nature and struggles with drugs and the like but from a distance I only saw an average 14-year-old boy.

I learned how much we all need to understand the plan of salvation. I went to a lot of the grief counseling sessions with my friends. Many of them were much more traumatized by what had happened than I was. They had questions and desperately needed the answers that the gospel provides. I still remember getting a tear-filled phone call from one of my friends one evening. We drove out to her house and my mother sat with her and tried to explain what happened to our spirits and our bodies after we died. I don’t think I had realized before then just how fortunate I was to have grown up knowing that we can live again with Heavenly Father.

Today as I read an article from the newspaper back home that marked 20 years I also learned that as adults we can make a difference. Shortly after the shooting the schools began a program for school resource officers. The idea was that they would work with the students and form a relationship with them so that they would feel more comfortable going to someone if there was a need for help. I never realized that the officer that came to our school day after day and befriended everyone with the perfect blend of authority and approachable humor and kindness was one of the officers that had arrived on scene to help apprehend the shooter and then been the lead investigator in the case. He decided that he would do whatever he could to help prevent this from happening again and made a very real difference in the lives of many of the students there.

Perhaps the greatest lesson for me in all of it was simply that God knew me and He loved me. I was just a little 12 year old girl but on that day there were so many things that happened to protect me and show me that He was in control. A few of them might be able to be explained away by some people as lucky coincidences. Others simply can’t be explained unless you believe in His all loving power.

Each of us faces trials and challenges every day. In the months that followed there were four more untimely and tragic deaths from our school. Since then we’ve seen Columbine, 9/11, Virginia Tech, and Sandy Hill. We’ve also seen local police and military officers attacked, innocents suffer, and devastations from war and natural disasters around the world. Then there are the thousands of personal struggles that we each experience in our own individual lives. Many of them, like this, have the power to change us forever. Heavenly Father has told us though that all our trials will work together for our good if we can trust in Him. I know that this is true. I may have lost a lot of my childhood innocence that day and had to struggle for a time with feelings of fear and uncertainty but I learned so much more. 

Looking back I can say with absolute certainty that because of my own trials and experiences I know that God will bless us even when things look darkest if we can have faith in Him and keep looking for the good.