A Student Mom

The past year has been busy with a growing toddler constantly needing my attention and essay after essay pulling me away. Somehow I gave her the love she needed. Somehow I finished my schooling. Somehow I balanced my motherhood and student roles enough to not miss a single assignment or a single snuggle. Somehow everything happened so fast it is almost unbelievable now. Several mothers and potential mothers approached me in amazement, wondering how I did it. I used to wonder the same thing.

Just over a year ago I found myself answering the same life question I'm sure most of us hear: what do you plan to do next? I had rehearsed my answer several times before. For some time I had planned to continue my education when my little one (or little ones) was (were) off to school, moved out, married, etc., when my role as a stay-at-home mom was no longer necessary and I could afford to leave my child (children). I had the same disbelief at the possibility of being a mom and a student as I saw in others. I did not even consider it. There was no possibility.

And then it clicked mid-conversation. My perspective changed completely. Somehow I suddenly recognized the possibility as I responded to the life question with a complete change in attitude from my rehearsed response. It might actually work.

I recognized immediately that this realization was not my own. I had not done anything that led to this answer. I knew it was my Heavenly Father's guidance. And then I knew that He wanted me to finish my schooling.

Along with the change of perspective came no answer as to how it could happen. I only knew it was possible. It still took some time and trial to show us how it was possible. We had to figure some things out ourselves. But because I knew Heavenly Father wanted me to finish my education, I also knew He would make it possible for us. And not only did He make it possible, He made it easier than we could have imagined.

Somehow we did not have to take out loans. Somehow we did not have to use child care services. Somehow I was able to write essays with background distractions and the little one's interruptions, even when all I wanted to do was sleep. And somehow I was able to graduate within a year, aligning perfectly with other aspects of our lives. All of these "somehows" are proof to me that Heavenly Father exists and that He has a plan for us. There are simply too many "somehows" to discount them. These opportunities would not have been possible without Heavenly Father. Nothing ever falls perfectly into place by itself as it did for us. His hand is behind it all. And through Him anything is possible.

I don't have to worry about my future when I know Heavenly Father is guiding me. There is so much I still don't have the answers for, but it only takes a few steps into the unknown before realizing I'm headed in the right direction.

The Turning Point

It finally happened. I had my moment in public. All eyes and ears trying to politely ignore the squeals of my one-year-old as I sat in church. No doubt some felt bad, perhaps others wished they could help, maybe some thought I could do better. But for me, I really had no idea what I was doing.

I have witnessed moments such as this in a library or a store, when a mother's kids are screaming or running or crying and the mother is overwhelmed. Of course in the past I had no idea what to do. I have felt many different things as a witness: the desire to help, the sympathy, and even thinking the parents spoiled their kids too much. But nobody really knows what it is like.

Elli is walking around everywhere now, and that is all she wanted to do while I sat in church trying to listen to a lesson by our bishop. First I struggled with her while I read some announcements. Then I struggled to stay in my seat while she fought and screamed.

Eventually we ended up roaming the halls, preventing her from climbing into others' strollers, and missing the entire lesson. We roamed back and forth from the classroom, eyes of a couple of other babies staring on, probably learning. Over and over I tried sitting down again with my baby, trying to distract her with toys or food, but again and again we interrupted the lesson with screams and crying.

I was frustrated and exhausted, and I suddenly realized that this was something I had to get used to. I was told constantly how much crazier parenting would be with a walking baby, and I simply did not believe it. I knew Elli more than anyone, and I was sure she would continue her relatively good behavior. But this last Sunday was the turning point that other parents had warned me of, and I suddenly understood exactly what they were talking about.

As exhausted as I was, however, I also realized that this was something I could do. I could take care of my baby everyday. I could walk the halls in church if I needed to. I could miss the church lessons and still receive the benefits. It seems that somehow Elli being my baby, and I feeling so much love for her, makes all these difficult times feasible. Even the embarrassment was easy to overcome.

Parents are brave, I realized. To not only take on the judgment of others, but to raise children, each one different from the other, hoping beyond hope that you are doing it right. Knowing that your children will get into everything, destroy possessions, turn into teens, probably move far away. Why do we do this to ourselves?

The only explanation comes from love. Love for a spouse or partner, desire to grow a family, love for children. That is the only reason I was able to make it through that day. There's no thought of escape from motherhood in my mind because I love my baby so much. And for that reason I know I have to push through.

All the fairy tales are true when they say that love is the most powerful thing in the world. If only we can remember this always.

 

Year One

It is amazing how quickly a year passes by as a new mom watching her child change and grow. Many would think that being at home with a baby all day every day would slow time down, but I can testify how busy being a stay-at-home mom can be. I can still hardly believe sometimes that this adorable baby girl is mine, let alone that she is almost one year old! Now I can somewhat understand how the next 20 years can go by in a flash.

It is truly fulfilling to watch her change every single day and improve in the smallest of ways. She is finally beginning to take longer strides of walking by herself, descending the stairs on her stomach backwards, and even getting the spoon to her mouth, even if it's upside down.

Just yesterday we celebrated with family Elli's first birthday. My excitement caused me to go a little overboard, but in the end, we were happy with the results. My mom was more than happy to give up her house for the event, and my husband was more than helpful with everything I had concocted.

I had planned to sleep over at my parents' house in the extra room that my sister and her husband and kids were not sleeping in. However, with as many grand kids as my parents had they were still unprepared for three at once who all needed a crib. The little birthday girl was then forced to sleep on the floor, wedged between the bed, the wall, and a desk. This made it much more difficult to get her to sleep, as she is smart enough now to know when she's not in a real bed. I tried laying next to her, but her fingers wouldn't stop crawling over my face, up my nose, or into my mouth. I tried sitting by her but then she wanted to sit up with me and have me hold her, which I knew wouldn't work and never has. So I left her with my husband, who, with his magical touch, put her to sleep within minutes. How grateful I was for him and for the next two hours we spent making cake balls. (I recommend coating with some sort of chocolate, not frosting, by the way).

The next morning, after about five hours of restless sleep, making sure my baby didn't try to suffocate herself on the floor, I awoke to her complaining and found her on the floor halfway under the bed. Somehow during her sleep she had army crawled under the corner of the bed. Later in the morning I hijacked a crib and she fell asleep for a long nap without a sound.

We spent the morning preparing for the oncoming of at least 20 people, who were all immediate family and two close friends. I had made Elli's cake from a healthy recipe I found online (I added some powdered sugar to the frosting so she would actually eat it), I had taken any photos I had of her as well as a hand and foot print, and used these to decorate, and I waited almost until the last minute to put Elli in her "birthday dress" I had made for her. The dress made it difficult for her to crawl, and at first she became very frustrated, until she learned that if she walked on her hands and feet with her butt in the air it didn't get in the way. This also forced her to walk more, which was an unforeseen bonus.

The party itself was splendid. We had an 18 minute video in the background I had put together with all of Elli's pictures and videos growing up, we had plenty of food and cake balls for everyone's pleasure, and Elli loved the frosting on her cake (which was about all she ate). Passed around from person to person, fed strawberries and olives, given presents and getting her picture taken, Elli absolutely loved all the attention. She smiled and giggled and kissed anyone who asked for it.
For all the trouble I went to because of how much I just love my baby and wanted to show her off, it was all worth it. It will be one to remember. Especially with the video I made, since it almost makes me cry every time I see it and we'll have it forever and always.

Every day there's something new to love about my baby. Every day I love seeing her when she wakes up and gives me a huge smile. Every day I love watching her learn more and more, even on her own. I could never give up this life or this career for anything else, and no one should think anything less than how amazing and fulfilling this job is. I love being a mom.

Loved

I’m not like that,

I am different. We are different.

I pull and tug and you stumble my way

but hold some ground.

I stomp my foot and you

put yours down.

I let go an ocean and you let go.

I feel your heart.

I see your load

like a mountain on your back.

I hold you as straight as I can like support

for a wind guided tree.

But I stumble often, pulled aside

by a little one;

who tugs at my dress and my face

and my heart.

I return to you

with pretend encouragement,

feeling hurt or betrayed by a pretend you.

Yet when my ocean floods

you turn the water into white clouds.

They cover you

in mist and soften the cliffs as your

heart embraces mine.

Defending Motherhood

The term and idea of motherhood seems to have a negative connotation to it today. With the feminist movement and more expensive lifestyles, women are taking on more the once traditional roles of men. It is common now for women to have careers and work alongside their husbands. Women are fighting to have the same opportunities as men, to prove that we can do the things men do. But in doing so, women all over the world are giving up their traditional role as mothers.

Imagine if society was moving in the opposite direction. If the bearing, nurturing and raising of children was viewed as most important and men were striving to gain that equality of responsibility with women. What if the world was more focused on having and raising children instead of money, and governments strived to make that possible? But sadly, the opposite is true. Motherhood is being put away for careers and wealth. The world and us as women are actually demoting our purpose, and in doing so, we devalue ourselves.

Should it not be amazing that we have such powers as creating children, nursing and nurturing, being built in such a way that we can be the greatest mentors for the next generations? There is prodigious power in being a mother.

For myself it has been amazing to witness my body create another perfect little being, survive giving birth and not ruin my sex life, and now provide all the nutrients my little baby needs to grow strong and fat. It is so incredible to me, in fact, that I often wish my husband could experience it and know for himself. But this is not a power that men have. It is unique only to us women, and it should be cherished above all else. No other person on earth but a mother can build a greater love and connection for their child. And no one can find greater joy in doing so. This is our distinctive and perfect gift.

Before I even wanted children, the career I wanted more than any was to be a mother. My education, my future planning, even my choosing a husband all revolved around that desire. I needed an education which would allow me to work from home. I needed to find a husband who could the main provider for my family. I have held onto these traditional roles for husband wife with added respect and support for each other.

I grew up in a family with the most selfless woman as a mother. She has done nothing but serve her children, teaching us how to work, how to love, and how to improve ourselves. She was always there for us not matter what (and still is), helping each of us through our most difficult years. She is my role model now as I enter into motherhood.

I am not trying to give any negative connotation to careers for women that take them away from the home, only the increased insignificance given to motherhood. Women should not be ashamed or embarrassed by being a stay-at-home mom. That is my job right now and I can tell you it is no easy task. Motherhood is the greatest career and most important job we as women can do in our lives. For the world to continue with intelligent, kind and hardworking people, women need to be mothers.

Watching my baby change and grow and roll across the floor and grab anything she can is only the beginning of the wonders of raising a child. And I hope to be right in the middle of the action for at least the next eighteen years. In my mind there cannot be a greater joy or honor for a woman than to be a mother to her children and to those around her.

So I will defend this God-given power and ability for eternity, because that is how long motherhood lasts.

We Are Beautiful

I love my baby. I love everything about her. From her bowed legs to her double chin to her massive belly and stinky toes. As her mother I feel I have rights to say she is the cutest baby in the world! Her new tricks are sucking on her tongue like a binky, doing crunches trying to sit up, and drooling bubbles all the time. She is one chubby baby and I love it.

Wait a minute. Why are these traits considered adorable in infants and toddlers but not in adults? Having bowed legs and a double chin are not necessarily perceived as good traits to have in our generation. Somehow as our brains develop to full capacity, we also learn a fault. We learn that their is one way to look and if we or anyone differs, we judge or try to change the differences.

I understand completely how difficult it can be as a pregnant woman to feel beautiful or even sexy. Now after the pregnancy, as I recover, I know again how difficult and frustrating it can be to not have "better" body. Apparently it takes a lot longer than a couple months to lose all the weight gained during pregnancy.

This is a problem I face and I have decided to do something about it. Sure, my body's not what it used to be, but why can it not still be beautiful?

I love the artists that capture the beauty of the body. Not a "perfect" body developed by our imperfect minds, but all the different kinds of bodies in the world. Whatever the size or shape or features, these artists have unlearned the fault of judgment and show the beauty in each of our differences.

And our differences are beautiful!

I do not want my daughter to grow up wishing she had different legs or ears or nose or butt. But how do I teach her to love herself and her appearance with the world constantly bombarding us with the "perfect" look that does not even exist?

The best solution I could come up with was to change myself. Not my appearance in anyway, but my own mind. I have to change the way I see myself. I have to stare at my own stretch-marked legs and tell myself they are beautiful until I finally believe it. I have to ignore the alarms that go off in my head, pointing out the gut I still have from my giant pregnant belly and instead think of how wonderful it is to fit in all my shirts again. I need to believe my husband every time he tells me how good I look and especially when he tells me I am sexy. Even with my giant butt and thick ankles and extra skin on my stomach, I need to learn to love my body, to think of myself as beautiful.

Children listen, but mostly they watch. And if I can show (and tell) my baby Elli as she grows that I love my body with its "imperfections", then she will learn to love hers as well.

I know she will be just as beautiful in twenty years as she is now, and I hope to teach her to believe that. I hope that all women learn that they are beautiful. Stretch marks and love handles are the aftermaths of love and sacrifice, of bearing our children into this world. Therefore these features are some of the most beautiful in the world, and should never be discredited, especially by ourselves.

Beginnings of Motherhood

The last couple of weeks of pregnancy and the last month since Elli was born have been laborious (haha) and amazing. I had so many false labors slowly dilating me to a 4 by the time I reached the hospital that we expected her to come a couple weeks before she actually did. And get this, she was induced. She was stubborn. And finally born. :)
I think the best way to describe everything that happened is through pictures, so here's me getting induced:

I have to mention how wonderful my husband was. When the real pain started he was there encouraging me the entire time, even if it didn't do much. Nothing really helped with the pain so it's not that he wasn't very good at helping. He was amazing.

As soon as my water broke, the contractions became unendurable. Truly the worst pain I have ever felt (and I've done some pretty crazy things). So I didn't hesitate long in asking for an epidural. In fact, I highly recommend them. The only problem was that I had to endure a few more contractions that were worse than the last before the epidural kicked in. But oh, was it a relief. God sure loves us.

I didn't push for very long but she was a bigger baby (8 lbs 7 oz) and her head tore me pretty bad. But I didn't care too much (probably because I couldn't feel it), I was too absorbed. It seemed to happen so quickly that for awhile I couldn't believe that she was mine. For the first couple days it felt like I was babysitting another's child. And I had to nurse that child because I happen to have milk. But I did have that mother's intuition that everyone talks about almost immediately. For the first time in my life I was completely confident in taking care of a baby. I knew what to do and I learned quickly what she liked me to do. And all this without study. Mostly I just knew to hold her close against my skin.

I had a mirror to watch my own progress. It didn't feel like I was pushing very much (due to the epidural, I couldn't feel anything, really, except some pressure) but suddenly my midwife told me to stop and I saw that the head was out. I watched as the rest of her body slid out easily and the midwife then placed her on my stomach. I was in shock that she was already out that I hardly noticed anything except her purple complexion and her warmth. Later did I realize that she had been very messy.

She didn't cry much. Before she was mauled by the nurses to clean her and clear her throat she gave one small cry and stuck out her bottom lip as far as it would go. I felt a moment of joy at this, knowing that she was just fine, that she was breathing. And we'll just say that everyone was forgotten. I did acknowledge Eman for a moment to share our surprised and happy faces, but I was so absorbed in Elli that I had forgotten everyone there. My sisters Shelley and Marni were there as well as my mom and Eman's mom, a few nurses to help, some onlooking spectators (more nurses), and my midwife. Elli was rubbed up and down with towels to clean her, then covered in blankets while my midwife cleaned out her throat and mouth. But all I felt was the umbilical chord still trailing from inside and a warm little body laying quiet and comfortable on my deflated stomach. I held her head in one hand and her little bum in the other. After a minute or so Eman was given the scissors to cut the chord, and unlike I had heard, there was no blood splattering.

The transition to parenthood was easier and less drastic than we expected it to be. Perhaps it was because we knew what to expect: a lot of crying, a lot of feeding, a lot of cuddling and changing of diapers. Or maybe it was because we loved her so much that none of these things bothered us. And it turned out that she was a happier baby than we expected. Once we get her to sleep at night (which can often prove more difficult) she will sleep up to 7 hours. And sometimes she wakes only because she wants to be close. She sleeps in the bed with us about half of the time.

We've already seen many smiles from her, though they have almost always been in her sleep. What she dreams is the greatest mystery to us, expect for when she is sleep-sucking her own lips. But we cannot imagine what makes her smile or laugh in her sleep that doesn't when she's awake.

Yes, we went hiking as soon as I was walking comfortably. My mom warned me and she was right. The next morning I felt like I had climbed up Squawstruck again.

Suffice it to say that we love our baby Elli. Everything about her is sweet, from her awareness to her heartbreaking little cries. Sometimes it's hard to be a mom. Sometimes I'm exhausted and stressed and frustrated, but these are always forgotten when she's sleeping on my chest or when she's sucking for dear life or when she's looking at my eyes when I'm speaking or singing, as if she's listening. Or when I pull her into bed with us when she's crying and she instantly falls asleep in between us.

We didn't know it at the time but getting pregnant into just a month of marriage was the greatest blessing we could ask for. We love Elli too much to regret anything. We are honored to have been chosen as parents for her. And we will do our best to be just the parents she needs, just as she knew exactly who needed her.