Thoughts from my evening walk

In the evenings, after dinner is finished and toys are picked up, and while Marc takes over the bath and bedtime routine for the boys, I put Lucy in her Sleepy Wrap and we head out for a leisurely stroll. It might just be my favorite part of the day.

Since my surgery (two weeks ago), I haven't been able to take her out in the wrap, but we've still gone on shorter walks with her just in my arms. Tonight, though, I was feeling like my incisions are doing well enough that we were safe to pick up our evening routine again.

Sometimes I'll take my phone and call one of my sisters or a friend, since it's often one of the only quiet moments in my day when I'm able to carry on a decent conversation with little interruption. But, sometimes, like tonight, I crave the quiet. Time to think through things that are on my mind or weighing on my heart, time to laugh at funny things the boys did that day, time to reflect on where I'm at in my life, time to count my blessings, time to ponder and even pray.

As I start down our hill, I'm always struck by the way the late evening sun hits the East hills in our little valley - I'm sure the descriptive lyrics "purple mountains majesty" were inspired by views exactly like what I see every evening. It's breathtaking.

On some evenings Lucy is fussy and I focus all my attention on comforting her. But, tonight she fell fast asleep before we even left home. Right away I was alone with my thoughts and right away I felt how heavy they were, though it wasn't immediately clear what or why there was so much weight to them.

As I started sorting through my thoughts the only thing that became immediately clear was that it was very unclear what was causing such a heavy burden. There are the personal things - surgery recovery, sickness going through our family right now, friends experiencing struggles, medical bills to pay. Then, there are the global things - suffering, war, unrest in far corners of the earth.

While I was still making peace with my thoughts I noticed a young kid up ahead of me. Thirteen, maybe 14 years old. He sat down on some steps and started fiddling with something in his lap, looking back and forth from side to side, seeming just slightly paranoid. Then he lit his little joint and fiddled with it a little more before he looked up ahead and made eye contact with me. He quickly tried to hide it and then pulled out his phone, his attempt to cover it up, clearly hoping I hadn't seen what he was up to.

As I got closer, he looked up again at me. Big blue eyes. So young, so innocent. So fragile. I wanted to sit down and wrap my arms around him. I wanted to fill him with love and a feeling of self-worth so strong that he wouldn't have any desire to turn to destructive and dangerous things like that. I wondered about his home, his family. Where were they? Did they have any idea? Does he even have a place he can call "home"? All these questions flooded through my head in about five seconds.

As I slowly walked up the steps that he was sitting on, and the smell confirmed my assumptions, all I could think to say was, "you should really stay away from that stuff." Totally lame, I know... I hope what he really heard from my tone, though, was "you're better than this, you're worth so much more than this, you're loved and valued." I really hope he felt something in his heart.

As I finished my walk home, all of a sudden everything else on my mind seemed so small and insignificant. I hugged my little bundled baby girl and kissed the top of her head. I thought of my two young boys laying down for the night. I wondered about what things my children will face in the future. I wondered if they'd turn to other people or things that would hurt them. I wondered if I'm wrapping my arms around them enough right now to secure in them a feeling of acceptance and unconditional love.

Nothing else, whether here or abroad, matters more to me than that right now - doing everything I can to create a loving home where my children feel safe and loved. If my heart could hurt so much for this young kid that I don't even know, I'm not sure I could handle feeling the pain I'd feel for one of my own. The world is a tricky and scary place sometimes, but even with all of its tricks and traps, I feel so grateful and confident that I have heaven's help available to help get us all through it.

Preparing for birth

Now that the nightmares of car buying have ended, my dreams are mostly dominated by scenes of birth and all the possible scenarios that could come this time around. For those of you who have been around for the last few years, you know we haven't had the smoothest rides when it comes to our babies being born. And, while in my waking hours I don't feel like I'm feeling a lot of fear or worry about what's to come, I know deep in my subconscious there are fears and worries lurking there.

I'd dare to say that between all that happened with the twins and then with Hugh, we've faced a lot of our worst-case scenarios (although I hesitate to say that, afraid it'll only dare fate to show us some new worst-case scenario I haven't yet considered). In some ways I think we're able to approach this time around with less fears about everything that could go wrong. Partly because we know that no matter what happens we'll find a way to get through anything that might possibly go wrong. And, partly because we've learned from experience that sometimes, no matter how hard you try to be prepared and try to make all the right choices, just sometimes the final outcome is completely out of your control.

Hours after Hugh was born via emergency cesarean and would soon be transported to a hospital two hours away to be treated for his severe case of MAS, I told Marc I was done. If every birth of our children was going to come with some form of drama and/or trauma, I didn't want to do it ever again. And I was serious.

Discovering in early November that we were expecting another baby came with it the uncovering of a lot of emotional scars I didn't feel quite ready to face. Since then I feel like I've confronted a lot of my fears and worries, but I can't deny there are still some lingering. I think they mostly stem from the unknown.

Right away I knew I wanted to try for a VBAC with this birth. I found a great doctor and group of midwives that have been super supportive of my desires and I feel very comfortable in their care. I've also done tons of reading about VBAC, hoping others' stories and experiences will be helpful in preparing me, and mostly just to try to replace any feelings of doubt with confidence and optimism.

And, it just made me wonder if there are any of my readers out there who have had their own VBAC experience and what kind of advice you might have to offer. If so, please share!

Some thoughts

My mind is weighed down with thoughts. All evening I've been trying to sort through them, hoping to figure out where the bulk of the weight lies.

1 - There were the thoughts about BYU basketball. I can't help it. I bleed blue and always will. I love being excited about my Alma Mater doing amazing things, even when it's just with athletics. (These were clearly not the heavy thoughts.)

2 - Then, I found the thoughts about how I feel about this recent article that seems to be getting all kinds of attention. My response would be something along the lines of, "hmmm, that's an interesting perspective" and "I wonder if people read my blog and think I sugar-coat everything to make my life look more perfect than it really is" and "I don't really care what anyone thinks of what I write or how it comes across, I write for me and from a place in my heart that yearns to be expressed in a certain way" and "I think it's great that we each can express ourselves in our own way, and however we express ourselves we can choose what and how much of a glimpse we allow others to see" and "I think that's a beautiful thing" and "blah blah blah blah blah..."

3 - There were thoughts about a new friend who is just starting the adoption process. I think back to 2006 when we were in that spot and how uncertain and vulnerable it felt to be there. We've come so far. Things have turned out far better than I ever would have imagined. But, I can still feel the fear and doubt that once tried to rule my heart. While I'm glad we aren't there anymore, my heart goes out to those who are in that place - hoping that everything turns out better than they could have ever imagined, too.

4 - I found the heaviest of thoughts to be for my boys. Our days are so packed, even with just the basics of naps and feedings and cleaning up messes, that I often find myself at the end of the day wondering where the time in the day went to just sit and snuggle with them, or to quietly explore the world with them, or to spend some real quality time with them. And, with two that need my love and attention I feel a bit overwhelmed with making sure they're both getting the nurturing that they need. Not that giving them that attention is overwhelming, but I get overwhelmed with worry that what I'm giving isn't enough. I wish I knew how to schedule in more of these quality moments when the nurturing level is at its highest. I think it must be possible, I just need to get better at making more time for more of those moments.

5 - Some thoughts have been too far in the future for them to be of any benefit to anyone right now. Worried thoughts about raising my boys to be good and honest and kind and confident and humble and good at playing soccer and gentle and grateful and so many other things. I can't stand to read stories or hear about troubles that kids have these days. There is so much hurt and confusion and it all just makes me want to move to a small villa in the countryside of Tuscany where I could raise my little family, perhaps a bit shielded from some of life's unnecessary pains (although, that begs the question - are there pains that are necessary? and, are there pains that are unnecessary? that might make a good post for another day.) Doesn't life in Italy just seem a bit simpler and happier? Maybe it's just me.

6 - Elliana and Emmaline have been in my thoughts a lot more recently. After my cousin lost her little girl suddenly and unexpectedly (almost two months ago), it triggered a lot of emotions. Some sadness. Some longing. Some heartache. But, mostly gratitude. And love. Even though losing them was the hardest thing I've yet had to endure, it has been such a powerful change for good in my life. Visits to their gravesite continue to remind us what is really important in life and recommit us to enjoying every moment we have together.

There. That feels better. Now that my thoughts have found their place and priority, I plan on having a better-than-average night of sleep. I love knowing the morning will come with new opportunities.

Christmas Eve

It's Christmas Eve. Ben and Hugh are tucked in for the night. Marc is wrapping some last minute gifts. I'm trying to stay away from the pies until my stomach has recovered from our Christmas Eve dinner of the most delicious Maple-glazed ham. It has been a wonderful day, going back and forth from my parents' house to ours, trying to stick closely to our nap time routines but still be a part of the fun traditions and activities.

One of the highlights was acting out the story of the birth of Jesus, with my dad narrating from Luke 2 and other verses of scripture. It should be fun to go back and watch the recording we got of it. Since Hugh is the youngest member of the family here, he played the part of baby Jesus, which meant that Marc and I were Joseph and Mary. Ben was the lone lamb who was more interested in wandering than sitting calmly in our imaginary manger. Then we had three shephards - mom, Malachi and McKayla. The three wise men - John, JB, and Denison. And two angels - Dawnette and Talea, who had the cutest lines to repeat. (We had a sick Truman laying down in the other room, who wasn't able to play his part.)

Later, as I was feeding Hugh just before putting him down for the night I thought back to his birth and reflected on many of the feelings that came with his arrival - the fear, the panic, then the relief. I still find myself thanking God for his life that was preserved. I was so honored today to finally get the part in the nativity story that I've always coveted.

I thought of Tracey, who just a year ago was so close to bringing Benjamin into the world. What was it like to be in her shoes? What would it be like to carry a child for nine months and then place him in the arms of another mother? How does it feel to make a sacrifice like that, even if you know it's the right choice for you and your baby?

I don't know how Tracey did what she did. She gave us the greatest gift. Our little Benjamin. I'll never fully understand what it takes to make that kind of selfless choice, but I'll spend the rest of my life making sure Benjamin knows the unconditional love it takes to do what she did. 

Then, I thought of Mary, the mother of the Son of God. As I looked down on my little Hugh, so peacefully cuddled against my chest, I wondered what feelings she might have had as she welcomed her son into the world. Was she overwhelmed with feelings of inadequacy? Was she afraid of the sacrifices that would be required of her and/or her son? Did she wonder if she'd fulfill her responsibilities well enough to raise her son in the right way?

I don't know how Mary accomplished what she did to raise and nurture the baby boy who would become the Savior of the world. I can't imagine the burden that she must have felt at times, fully aware of her own inadequacies and weaknesses.

I feel so indebted tonight to some great mothers, my own included, who have fulfilled roles and accomplished great things that have directly blessed my life. I feel a bit overwhelmed at my own responsibilities to be the kind of mother that my boys need me to be. I'm grateful, at least, to have so many good examples to follow after. 

It is really a wonderful time of year. A time of reflection. A time of gratitude for blessings. A time of renewed determination to be a bit better. A time to spend with family, making memories and strengthening bonds. 

Speaking of, I should go and do just that. Marc is snuggled comfortably on the couch, saving a spot just for me. 

Merry Christmas! I sincerely hope this season is one filled with love and hope for good things to come for all of you.

Gardens

When I told a close friend about the early delivery and sudden parting of our little girls, her advice was, "surround yourself with reminders of life."

With that advice I've spent some time outside, cultivating some plants in terrible need of attention. One day I worked on a tree - digging around the base of the tree, taking out rocks that were affecting its growth, and then adding some rich soil instead. Another day I nurtured our indoor plants, pulling off the dead leaves, and adding more good soil to each plant. 

While spending time with my hands in the dirt, I've been reminded of some important things:

1. I love the smell of soil... and I love getting my hands in it.

2. Rocks are rarely good for plants.

3. Good soil is always good for plants. 

4. If you leave your garden without planting "good" plants, then it'll most likely be overrun with "undesirable" plants, like weeds.

I know these are really basic facts to even the least experienced gardener. But, I've been struck with how they relate to my life right now. 

I've always found joy in working in our garden, whether with vegetables or flowers or other plants. But, lately digging in the dirt has also been a source of healing for me. While pulling out rocks, I find myself wondering - are there "rocks" in my life affecting my ability to grow?

And, while adding in fresh, new soil, I question - what is the nature of the soil in my heart? Am I softened enough to accept the good seeds that are being planted? Or will hardness and bitterness keep those good seeds from bringing continued growth and goodness to my life?

I have to be honest, over the last couple of weeks it has been really easy to entertain the thoughts of "why me?" and "what if..." and "if only..."  As I've chosen to push those thoughts out, I've realized that's only the first step. It isn't enough to avoid the bad thoughts, just like it isn't enough to pull out the weeds... they'll just keep coming back. The mind is like a garden, where good thoughts must be planted, so that there is no place for the unwelcome thoughts to find a home. 

So, rather than allowing those destructive questions to fill the garden of my mind, I have been focusing on planting thoughts that inspire gratitude for the blessings we've received. Right now, in these early stages, it's still a battle to push those tempting questions aside, but as we do we become more aware of and grateful for the blessings in our life... and dare I say even the blessings of this trial. 

I love the words of the Savior, in the parable of the sower (Matthew 13):

  3 And he spake many things unto them in parables, saying, Behold, a sower went forth to sow; 
  4 And when he sowed, some seeds fell by the way side, and the fowls came and devoured them up: 
  5 Some fell upon stony places, where they had not much earth: and forthwith they sprung up, because they had no deepness of earth: 
  6 And when the sun was up, they were scorched; and because they had no root, they withered away. 
  7 And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprung up, and choked them: 
  8 But other fell into good ground, and brought forth fruit, some an hundredfold, some sixtyfold, some thirtyfold. 
  9 Who hath ears to hear, let him hear.

I hope we always choose to have softened hearts, ready to receive the hundredfold of blessings the Lord is anxiously waiting to give.

With all these thoughts in mind we decided to plant a new rose bush in our front yard, in honor of Elliana and Emmaline. It serves as a reminder to fill the gardens of our minds with thoughts as beautiful as our peach-colored roses. And, another reminder that there really are many blessings to be found... even amongst the thorns.