Trusting the Process; Some Pregnancy Thoughts the Second Time Around

Whenever we move somewhere new, I think back to some advice I was given by a dear friend who is also a military wife:

" Give it 6 months." 

It's important to remember that transitions take time. Whether it's a new job, relationship, a move, new baby, new school, or becoming empty nesters, among many other transitions, it takes time to adjust and to feel comfortable.

I'd like to add another statement to my friend's advice:

Trust the process.

Trust that there will be better days to come. Trust that the sun will come out again (which has been rare here lately and I cherish the days it pokes through the clouds). Trust that you will make new friends, that your new baby will eventually sleep better, that your new town won't always feel so foreign to you. Trust that someday this will become your new normal and while it may not be easy, "the Lord will shape the back to bear the burden placed upon it."

This pregnancy has (mostly) flown by compared to my first. Between having a toddler to chase around, settling in to a new place and country, and a deployment, we have been busy. I'm currently 37 weeks and am starting to feel like my body is falling apart. However, I'm amazed at how strong and capable our bodies are. I can be a decent mom and wife and still function and that is pretty incredible. I'm hoping to be induced at 39 weeks since Claire was a large baby and I don't want to go through that again if I don't have to. But I also know that this baby will come when she is meant to come, so I'm trusting the process.

Claire has a 'big sister' book that she loves to read, carries around her baby doll everywhere, and often talks about the baby in mommy's belly. We have tried to prepare her as much as we can, explaining and helping her understand. However, I know she really has no idea what's coming. She adores babies, but I'm not sure how she'll react when our baby never goes away, cries, and takes a lot of mommy and daddy's time.

I honestly can't imagine having another child. It's been just us and Claire now for two years. She is our buddy and our whole world. I know they say your heart just grows and you love them the same, but I have yet to experience that so until then I'm going to love the heck out of Claire and cherish our last couple of weeks together. And I'm going to trust the process.

The toddler stage is actually one of my favorite stages yet. It is hard and draining with daily meltdowns and explaining things over and over again. But there is so much magic in it. Claire is a happy happy girl and loves to jump, read books, give hugs and kisses, etc. She is truly a source of light and joy in our home and we love watching her learn. Right now one of my favorite things is when she says "Bye, see ya!" when we leave or when her daddy leaves. Her vocabulary has exploded the last few months and it is the best.

Although I'm not looking forward to the pain and uncertainty of it all, labor doesn't scare me as much this time around. I know that it will all be okay in the end and that my body knows what to do. I'm trusting the process. 

And having a newborn again also scares me, but not as much as before. Claire was very difficult for the first 3 months, constantly crying, struggling to sleep. She wouldn't let anyone else hold her and she only wanted us to stand while we held her, which made for some exhausting nights and days. I'm pretty confident that we can handle what this baby throws at us because Claire was so hard. I know it will be a big transition to two kids, but I'm trusting the process.

Seeing my body change this time around has still been hard at times. I honestly tried to exercise more and eat well-balanced meals and snacks, and my body has gained the exact same amount of weight and some of my maternity clothes don't even fit like they did last time. That being said, I have so much more appreciation and respect for my body and have done a lot of inner work the past two years to get to this place. I've learned that even on the days I don't like my appearance, I can respect my body and cultivate a neutral attitude towards it. And that no matter what my weight or clothes size is, my body deserves to eat and sleep and move in ways I enjoy and that feel good to me. I'm not as worried about my body postpartum this time because I trust it to do what it needs to do as I nourish it and care for it. Whatever size I am 6 months from now is fine with me as long as I'm taking care of me. I'm trusting the process.

Life as a mom of two for 4 months

Hi, friends! It's been a long time since I've written and published a new blog post. I've started one or two in the past year but haven't finished them. I wanted to give an update on life as a mom of two for the last four months.

I follow a blogger named Kylie (@immaeatthat) whose perspective is so refreshing. She simply writes about her life - the good, the hard, the mundane, the growth.  When I read her posts on motherhood, marriage, and body image, I feel like I could have written them myself because I relate so much to what she shares. Then I got to thinking, "there need to be more posts like this." So here I am.

"Happy Wife, Happy Life" 

On my kitchen windowsill I keep this phrase: "Happy wife, happy life." I bought it when Spencer and I were newlyweds because we always joked that if I'm happy, everyone's happy. But over the last nearly 4 years we’ve been married, I've been thinking a lot about the truth of that statement and the power I have over the mood in our home. And now I keep it as a reminder that only I can give my girls a happy mom and my husband a happy wife.

That doesn’t mean I'm always smiling and having fun, but it does mean that I try my hardest to love my family and apologize when they get the worst of me. Sometimes we have kitchen dance parties, color, and go for walks and I feel really connected to my kids and I think, "I'm a good mom." And other times I wish I were more patient, more fun, and more fulfilled by motherhood. I remind myself often that both are okay and totally normal.

Motherhood is Messy 

 Today as I sat on the couch in my pajamas listening to the 5th episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, I realized that although motherhood is incredibly fulfilling and magical for me, it's also boring, exhausting, and just plain hard. Oftentimes I'll cry tears of happiness and sadness, joy and overwhelm,  all in the same day, and sometimes the same hour.

Yesterday Claire had a meltdown, probably because I wouldn't let her have a third gogurt or something, and I just couldn't take the crying and whining anymore. And I lost it.

Spencer and I try to approach parenting with connection and redirection. As much as possible I try to refrain from yelling or belittling Claire in any way, while still teaching her right from wrong. I recently purchased a parenting audio  course by Ralphie Jacobs of "Simply on Purpose." She is a big advocate of staying safe for your children, which means we as parents try to remain calm even and especially when our children are not.

To me, "staying safe" means taking breaks from my phone and household tasks to engage with Claire, remaining calm when she has a tantrum or breaks something, ignoring inconsequential behavior (like her wanting to wear three pairs of pants or not eating her lunch), less punishing and more teaching, praising the things she does well, and taking breaks (even little ones where I lock myself in the bathroom) to breathe and eat some chocolate.

Most  of the time we try to do this, and life is much better when we do. Claire is happier and we are happier. But we definitely have our moments and entire days when everything goes to crap and it's just hard. Sleep deprivation doesn't help either.

Working Hard On Our Marriage 

Spencer is pretty much as good as you can get when it comes to a father and a husband. I share a lot about how much I love and appreciate him, and I do. However, the demands of a toddler and a young baby  have created more resentment in me than I'd like. Particularly at the end of a really long day (which is most days, if I'm being honest) and at night when I'm feeding and constantly getting up when Emily doesn't sleep well.

I think what it comes down to is expressing my needs and allowing Spencer to express his and working at a way we can meet them. Two of those needs are time alone and time together, and we usually don't get both of those and sometimes we don't get either one. A few weeks  ago we put both girls to bed at 7 and sat down on the couch, exhausted, and I said "this is the first night we've been able to have some time to ourselves where both girls went to sleep at the same time." It was really nice, and it hasn't happened since haha. (I wrote this paragraph a couple of months ago - Luckily Emily is sleeping better now!)

Less time together is hard but it also makes me really appreciate the time we do have. My parents were here a few months ago and we were able to go on a couple dates and look like actual humans who showered and dressed up, which rocked.

These pictures from Emily’s birth will  always be cherished. 

My best friend. 

 Sleep (or lack of)

This time around I definitely know more what to do in regards to helping emily sleep and not become overtired. I thought Claire had colic for sure for the first three months but looking back, I think she was simply really tired and that made her frustrated all the time. Heaven knows when I don’t get enough sleep I’m easily irritated, so I know it’s tough on little babies.

That being said, we have still struggled and lots of times emily doesn’t always get the sleep she needs due to grocery shopping and church and tantrums and life, so it’s hard. It feels isolating because we can usually handle one outing a day, if that, without it messing up her sleep schedule. But I’m reminding myself every day that this is a season of life, and that while I’m in it I can look for the good.

Night time is getting better and she’s sleeping longer stretches sometimes which I am thankful for. I’m hoping we won’t have to sleep train her but I’m not opposed to it since sleep is so vital to the overall health and well-being of our family. I’m so proud of her ability to put herself to sleep more and more. If she is fed and rested she is a pretty happy girl (like her mom).

That Milk Life 

Right now I'm pretty much exclusively  breastfeeding, which is going so much better than it did with Claire, and I'm grateful for that. It's also so time consuming and a lot of hard work. Breast milk is incredible and I'm amazed it gives Emily everything she needs, but I miss wearing normal clothes and not having to whip out my boob everywhere we go. Claire is constantly in Emily's face when I feed her. And while I appreciate that she loves her baby sister so much, it's been hard to set limits and help her understand that Emily needs some space and doesn't particularly like her eyeballs being poked.

This time around I feel a lot less guilt for giving Emily bottles and some formula, although we don't need to do that often because I'm usually always with her. The way I'm approaching breastfeeding (and most other things) is that we'll do what works for us until it doesn't work anymore. My mental health and emotional well-being are more important to me than the source of my daughter's food, so I'll breastfeed as long as the benefits outweigh the cost, which I'm thinking will be at least the first 6 months of her life, but we'll see.

A prime example of Emily having too much “Claire” in her moment

How I Feel About My Body 

Although it's gotten easier with a lot of the work I've put in, body image can still be a struggle. I think body positivity is great, but it's not always possible or realistic for me to love my body and the way it looks. I've tried to adapt a "body neutrality" approach. For me this looks like taking care of my body, accepting what is and refraining from negative thoughts. The other day I was looking at my legs in the mirror and cringed. I sat with that feeling for a minute, acknowledged that my body had changed, and moved on. If I wanted to take that a step further I could have expressed gratitude to my legs for allowing me to run and hike mountains and go up and down a million stairs every day.

Another important part of this for me is realizing that weight naturally fluctuates, we are meant to age, and most people won't fit their high school clothes or college clothes forever. Throwing out my scale last year has been helpful, as well as getting rid of clothes that don't fit and only buying ones that do. Spencer and I practice the principles of intuitive eating and that has been life changing. Paying attention to what our bodies need and how we feel, while allowing flexibility for all foods keeps us feeling good and it keeps life fun. I’ve come to the conclusion that I have limited time and energy, and I don’t want to spend it on tracking food obsessively (although I know that can be a good lifestyle choice for others), or worrying about how I look.

My Other Dreams

Most days, motherhood and being a wife feel pretty fulfilling to me at this point in my life. I still have other dreams which include working, teaching, possibly being a marriage counselor, etc. To be honest I don't really know what I want to do, but I know that I'm the type of person who will need something of my own that helps me develop, especially as my children go off to school.

However, at the moment I'm grateful for the privilege of being home with my girls. And as insane as these days are, and as tired as we are from adding another babe to our crew, I’m glad we did and I’m pretty sure we’ll add another one. Just not anytime soon. ;)

I’ll end with one of my favorite quotes on motherhood that has felt surprisingly relatable even after having my second:

"The most difficult part of birth is the first year afterwards. It is the year of travail - when the soul of a woman must birth the mother inside her. The emotional labor pains of becoming a mother are far greater than the physical pangs of birth; these are the growing surges of your heart as it pushes out selfishness and fear and makes room for sacrifice and love. It is a private and silent birth of the soul, but it is no less holy then the event of childbirth, perhaps it is even more sacred."    - Joy Kusek

Today, I Cried.

Today, I cried. 

Cried because I had been on my feet for 12+ hours caring for my baby and a friend's baby.

Cried because my husband is gone and I miss him. (Shout out to all the single moms and dads because that has to be the hardest gig out there).

Cried because today brought what seemed to be endless loads of laundry and dishes.

Cried because dinner was pastrami sandwiches instead of soup and pretzel rolls.

Cried because nothing in my closet fits me the way I want it to.

Cried because my daughter still wakes up 2-4 times a night and I haven't had more than 5-6 hours of sleep at a time for nearly 8 months (and that's on a really good night).

Cried because we live in a temporary home with sheets, couches, and kitchen bowls that are not our own.

Cried because I miss the mountain air and cooler temperatures.

Today, I cried. 

Cried because motherhood is magic and I am so grateful for my precious girl.

Cried because the Air Force takes such good care of us.

Cried because I have a husband who works so hard and loves us beyond words.

Cried because my body has carried a child and created a life, and that's pretty amazing.

Cried because I was able to get in some joyful movement by going on a run.

Cried because I found a blogger (immaeatthat.com) who puts into words everything that I feel about motherhood and living a fulfilling life.

Cried because pastrami sandwiches are delicious (especially at 10 pm when you realize you haven't eaten anything since 3).

Cried because I have warm pajamas and comfortable blankets to wrap myself in at the end of a long day.

Today, I cried. And it was needed and good.

The Reason We Fight

There’s been an accident.

These are four words a pilot’s wife never wants to hear. Any wife, for that matter.

After hearing such a statement, your heart drops and you pray that your husband isn’t involved.

Please, don’t let it be him.

And then, you pray for those who have been affected by the tragedy, unable to comprehend the absolute horror of going through something like this. You would not wish it on anyone, and wonder why tragedies  like this happen in the first place.

After all, you’ve seen the hours your husband has put into studying checklist after checklist, to be absolutely certain of a safe flight. Only you see firsthand the time and energy he invests to ensure that he is perfect in performance in order to avoid any mishaps. Repeating those words verbatim, stating that he needs to be 100% accurate because lives are at stake.

He calms your fears by reassuring you of the safety measures taken, and the ejection seats meant to save lives in dire situations.

You believe him.

You let him go out that door every day in his flight suit, trusting that he will come back to you, because the alternative is to live in fear and worry.

When a tragedy occurs  in the military, the whole community hurts. We are in this together. We know  the pride, the joy, and the sacrifice of serving our country as a unit. The active duty members and their families alike feel connected by this bond. And when we lose one of our own, although we may not have known them personally, there is absolute respect and solidarity.

Neither my husband nor I have family members who have been a part of the military before us. This is new territory for me. I have met some of the most wonderful people during our short time in the Air Force. I have felt the undeniable strength that  comes when individuals are united in such a noble cause. I give thanks for their sacrifices, knowing that the sacrifices I make are minuscule compared to those who are face to face with war, wherever they may be and in whatever capacity.

It is this gratitude for their sacrifice and the need for our freedoms to be protected that allow me to watch my husband leave every day. He continues to fight for the children who feel unsafe at night, and the widows who can’t sleep. He fights for the soldier beside him, and for those families who have given the ultimate sacrifice. He fights and he flies for those who hurt and those who dream.

He fights for all of us.

Love is Only Found When You Give It Away

Motherhood 

A million milk stains on your bed sheets from night feedings.

You are the first one to wake, and the last to fall asleep each day. 

Crawling back into the covers multiple times, knowing that you will be up again in a few short hours. 

Never setting alarms because your baby knows when she’s hungry and will most certainly wake you.

Changing outfits (both yours and hers) up to four times each day and countless loads of laundry. 

Endlessly rocking, patting, and burping, praying those little eyes close so you can both sleep. 

Reading books and singing songs to help a young mind learn. 

Letting your food sit while you meet her needs first. Now you understand why ‘momma bear’s’ porridge was always cold. 

Counting fingers and toes and marveling at big beautiful eyes, wondering how a human being could be so perfect. 

Worrying and then trying not to worry so much. 

Imagining the next phase, yet finding grace and gratitude in the present. 

Learning to take life as it comes and accept what you cannot change. 

Enjoying every single smile, no matter how small. 

Wondering how you could ever do this again, and just as quickly wondering how could you not? 

As I wake for the fourth time tonight, I remind myself that milk stains mean I am able to feed my baby, and that is a precious gift. 

I am grateful for knowing that she knows she can wake me when she needs me. 

Loads of laundry allow for beautiful outfits and playing lots of dress up with my real life baby doll. 

Rocking in this chair for hours gives me time for reflection

. These moments are fleeting, and never again will she be so dependent on me to be comforted. 

I think of all the memories we will create from reading favorite books and singing songs. 

Microwaves allow me to heat up the cold food that sits and waits for me. 

You see, mothers do so much for their children, and those sacrifices teach us, shape us, and refine us. 

Perhaps we learn more from them than they ever learn from us.

Clothes can be washed, food can be heated, and you will sleep again someday.

Strength is found in doing what you have never done. 

Love is found in the giving and in the sacrifice. 

When you love your home or your car, you clean it, fix it, and take care of it. The effort put in strengthens the love you have, and the cycle continues. 

Children were meant to cause some sacrifice, for therein lies the love, and the love creates the strength to continue giving.

It is the love of a parent for their child that will change the world. It can heal the hurting heart, and create tiny souls who feel safe, brave, and strong. 

My prayer is to love so fiercely that my daughter will stand for the good and rise up when she falls. 

I pray that my love will spark in her the desire to one day become a mother, and realize how truly sacred that role is.

And when she awakes to a baby’s cry with tired eyes, that she will scoop that baby up into open arms and understand what a privilege it is to sacrifice, and what a gift it is to love. 

The gifts of pregnancy at Christmas time

I look down at my swollen feet as I lay in bed, hoping they will deflate so I can feel less embarrassed about their appearance in public.

But before I reach my feet I observe every stretch mark and bit of cellulite that have politely appeared  in the past 7 weeks when I thought I wouldn’t have any.

My mind races with the millions of things I want to get done before she comes. Freezer meals, organizing the nursery one last time, and cleaning every inch of my house. My body is begging for sleep, but my insomniac mind does not oblige.

Well, since I’m up, I might as well use the bathroom for the 5th time tonight. I grab some tums for the heartburn, and get up slowly because, well, moving is a struggle.

I breathe through a contraction and my stomach decides to empty all of its contents into the toilet. I’m not really sure why, but this has been happening more frequently lately. I wonder if I’ll spend all of real labor throwing up as well as having contractions. That could be interesting.

Breakfast is made pretty much every day for my pilot husband, but dinner is a struggle.

I live in yoga pants and the biggest t shirts in my closet. Jeans, if I wear them, last about two hours before I peel them off and say “never again will I subject myself to such torture.”

This is my life at 39 weeks of pregnancy.

But this is also my life at 39 weeks of pregnancy:

I run my fingers through the beautiful clothes in the nursery closet, so grateful for our support system and anxious to see my little girl in these outfits.

I marvel at how amazing the human body is, able to create and nourish life. Yes, my body looks different. But these differences have allowed the creation of a small baby girl, and that is incredible.

I get to make hot chocolate every day, sit by my Christmas tree in my slippers, and I don’t feel the slightest bit guilty about it.

Constantly I imagine what she will look like, what she will sound like, and what her little (or big) personality will be.

Spencer and I spend a lot of time doing simple activities, like watching Christmas movies, talking, cuddling, and just being. He has been my biggest support and greatest friend.

The last weeks of pregnancy have allowed me to slow down and to focus on the things of greatest value to me in my life.

We have not placed as much focus on presents or grand Christmas activities, and that has given us time to appreciate one another and our Savior.

Having Christmas Eve as my due date has helped me ponder the Savior and His mother Mary. I have thought often of her long journey to deliver her Son. I’m sure she felt anxious, tired, sick, and unsure of what was to come. But I bet she also felt excitement to meet Him, gratitude for the privilege of being His mother, and strength from on high.

I also wonder if she felt alone. On that quiet night in Bethlehem, I believe many prayers were said by her and for her. Joseph her rock, providing as much comfort as he could for his sweet young wife. And the angels above, giving light and strength to Mary as she embarked on the journey of motherhood.

I don’t know when this baby will come. Waiting has been hard, mainly because of the discomforts of pregnancy. But I will wait, and I will pray, and I will enjoy this quieter time of life with the husband I love.

Together we can reflect on Mary and Joseph bringing the Son of God into the world. And we can be grateful that we also have been given the gift to be parents to a spirit daughter of God.

The Love of a Mother: She is so worth it.

I have reached that point in pregnancy where my belly can't be hidden and it's getting harder and harder to reach down to tie my shoes, which is why I mostly wear flip flops. None of my jeans fit anymore. It is not just my belly that has grown. My whole body seems to have expanded every which way. I have not gone on a jog or done any intensive cardio in months. My eating habits aren't terrible, but I do enjoy chocolate pretty much every day. We recently took some family pictures, and I honestly could not believe that that was how I looked. I have only put on about 12 pounds since the beginning of this pregnancy, but my body looks swollen as if it has gained 25 pounds or more.

It may seem petty or shallow to share these things. I do not mean to put myself down or ask for pity. Simply put, writing helps me release so many emotions and work through them. It is therapeutic to feel my hands on this keyboard.

Today I was talking with Spencer about all these changes in my body. He has been so supportive and loving and I cannot thank him enough for that. As I was talking about my body changing for our little girl, he said, "yes, but she is so worth it." And he is absolutely right. I think of all the mothers who have gone before me, and all who will become mothers after me. Every experience is different. But there is one thing we all share: loving sacrifice.

I hope that in the next few months, and throughout my life, I can look at the ways pregnancy has changed my body, and see them as 'the love of a mother.' I have not yet met our daughter in this mortal life, but I love her. I pray for her every day, and for her well-being. I pray that my body can be a safe haven for her to grow. And I try to prepare myself and our home for the day she arrives. There is something much more divine taking place right now than the gaining of a few pounds and some stretch marks. A spirit daughter of Heavenly Father is coming to our home. And I would do anything for her, including allowing my body to change in the ways it needs to so that she can develop well.

I want to thank some fellow women who have graciously shared their closets of maternity clothes with me. Having cute clothes that fit helps me feel so much better, and I am grateful to them for understanding that. I plan to pay that forward in the future.

So for now, my new mantra is to do what I can and accept the rest regarding my body. I am not the perfect example of health and wellness, and I still have 3 more months for my body to change in ways that are somewhat unpredictable to me. But I will do what I can, and try to practice gratitude for the marvelous gift it is to bring life into this world. She is so worth it.