Birth of Johannah Rose

After a great hospital birth with my second baby I was ready to try another home birth. I had met a woman at a birth conference a year before that I knew right away I wanted as my midwife if I ever got pregnant again. I was excited to call her and make plans as soon as I knew I was pregnant. Maria delivered at Beautiful Mountain birth suites but also gave the option of coming to your home. I loved having the option left open to me to choose as things progressed.

I knew that my babies like plenty of womb time so even though my 40 week due date was on the 14th of October I wasn’t even going to think about giving birth until the 28th. Maria told me early on that she was going to be out of town the week of my due date and asked if I wanted to consider one of the other midwives being my primary but I told her there wasn’t a chance I would have the baby on time.

About two and a half weeks before my due date my siblings and I got together for a family portrait. It was a long day with a lot of standing around. I started to have a few contractions but I always have a lot of Braxton Hicks during the later part of the pregnancy so I didn’t even hardly notice. Later we went to my sisters for dinner and as I relaxed in her recliner I started to notice that the contractions were pretty regular and getting harder. I got a large glass of water and drained it twice to make sure they weren’t being caused by dehydration. They kept coming. About this time my mom noticed something was up. I was starting to shiver and my breathing was fast. I was shaking and starting to feel the need to cry. Something in the back of my mind started to get excited that maybe this was it and I wasn’t going to have to go to 42 weeks this time after all.

“If I was your midwife I would at least want to know this was happening” my mom told me. I called Maria and had a contraction while I was on the phone with her. She could hear it in my voice and offered to come right away. I told her to wait, let me get home and get in the tub. If this was real things would speed up. If it wasn’t the contractions would ease off or stop all together.

After just a few minutes relaxing in the tub everything had stopped completely. I was a little disappointed and the door had been opened to hope. The next few weeks there were a lot of contractions leading to nothing. It started to get really hard to be pregnant. I spent a lot of time sitting on my ball rolling my hips, breathing and visualizing my ideal birth, visualizing everything opening.

40 weeks came and went and 41 weeks as well.

At my 41 week appointment I was 80% and dilated to a 4. She stripped my membranes (although she said there really wasnt much still attached.) She told me that it wouldn’t take much to push me over the edge and into labor.

We decided to try castor oil. I drank a wicked concoction of almond butter, lemon verbena, castor oil and a few other ingredients. I had to laugh at the insanity of drinking something so nasty to bring on something as difficult as labor all so that I could have a new born baby who was going to keep me up nights for months and would grow into a energy filled two year old racing through my house like a banshee and growing all too fast into a teenager with all the unknown challenges that I had yet to experience with that stage. It made me marvel at the sheer number of humans in this world.

I few hours after taking to caster oil I went for a walk to see if I could get something started. I stopped at a friends house and had a nice little chat. While I was there a storm was brewing and I think that helped get a few contractions going. by the time I got home they were pretty regular and pretty close but also still pretty comfortable. Maria texted to see how things were going and I told her that they were about 4 minutes a part lasting about a minute but not very strong. She decided to go a head and come.

A few minutes before she got there things started to get intense enough that I didn’t want the kids there. I called a friend who came and got them. My sister Johannah was going to be at the birth to take some pictures for me so I called her to just give her a heads up and she decided to just come as well. So the whole team was there. And little by little the contractions petered out until it became clear that nothing was happening.

I was discouraged and wanted to do somethings to get labor going. Maria checked me and suggested that we wait a few days and try and get the baby to turn since it was posterior and then try again. She gave me some instructions on how to turn the baby and everyone went home.

For three days I followed her instructions and I felt the baby move into place. On the third day I was sitting in our family playing with my little when my 3 year old son stood next to me “MOm, when the baby comes out its going to die.” he told me. My heart stopped. How did he even know what death was? Because of an abnormality that they had seen in our ultra sounds we knew that the was a possibility that this baby would have downs syndrome. I knew that it was a little risky doing a home birth if the baby was going to be born with downs but I had felt confident that all would be ok. This statement coming from such a small child frightened me. I went to see Maria that day for my appointment we were planning to do another round of castor oil. I sat in her office and cried like a baby because I just wanted it all over and wanted to know the baby was ok. I told her about what Preston had said. “I think you need to consider just going to the hospital she told me.” Ive had some concern about doing this at home as well and you are obviously at the end of your rope. Im not sure how good it would be to continue to wait.”

I called Dr. Chappell and we set an appointment to see him later that evening to transfer care to his office and to schedule an induction. He had delivered my daughter and had seen me early on in the pregnancy when the morning sickness had been extra bad and he was prepared that this might happen. On the way home I cried. I just really wanted another home birth. I hated that I was giving up. I finally turned around and went back to Maria’s office. “LEts do the castor oil again I told her and if it works great I have the baby today and get my home birth. If it doesn’t than I go to Dr. Chappells tonight and we have the baby tomorrow in the hospital.”

She agreed and I took the castor oil. All day I waited for contractions and nothing. We drove all the way to farmington to meet with Dr. Chappell, he scheduled to induction for the next day and we were on our way home. About have way there I started to have contractions. By the time we were getting to Lehi they were getting kind of intense and I felt like I might just have this baby before I had a chance to get induced. We went to pick up the kids from a friend who was watching them. By the time we pulled into her driveway I was gasping and groaning with the intensity. I thought if I can just hold off long enough to get home and get the kids in bed than I can have this baby.

I called Maria and told her this is the real deal you better come. I was trying to focus and stay calm so the kids wouldn’t worry. I got them tucked into bed, made several urgent trips to the bathroom and with each one the contractions lessened. By the time the kids were settled and Maria was there they had stopped all together. I felt defeated but at peace with the idea of the induction because I felt I had given it absolutely everything I had in me. A home birth just wasn’t in the cards and I had to be ok with that.

The hospital called at 7:30 the next morning and we headed to the hospital. We got checked in and our nurse got things set up. She insisted that I wouldn’t be allowed to eat during labor, she insisted that I must wear the obnoxious monitors, she insisted that the pitocin had to be increased at specific intervals every 30 min. Several times I felt that she dismissed my intuition and knowledge of my body for what her machines were telling her. At one point I asked her to turn up the pitocin. I wanted to get things moving and I wasn’t feeling much of anything yet. Let me check to see how your contractions are first she told me looking at her awful machine. I can tell you how they are I told her. But she didn’t seem interested in my opinion. They are nice and regular she said so there is no need to increase it yet.

A couple of hours later she wanted to check me for progress. I don’t even feel like Im in labor I told her. I’m having a few contractions but they are nothing yet. But true to form she wanted to check anyway. I let her but told her I didn’t want to know how far I was.

She checked and then proceeded to prepare for delivery. If you want anyone else here you better call them she told me. I couldn’t believe it! It seemed like things were progressing but I honestly felt great. I had been lazing around in the tub, chatting (and eating when she wasn’t around) and overall just enjoying a break from the kids. This didn’t feel like the real deal.

Maria had come to the hospital with me and promised to stay through it all. She pulled the nurse aside to find out how far dilated I was. She kept telling me how amazed she was that I was doing so well. I kept insisting that I wasn’t doing anything. It hardly seems fair to take credit for being amazing when you aren’t even trying.

Dr. Chappell arrived, the nurse had called him in for the birth. He came in to find me comfortably seated in the tub chatting away with Joseph, Maria and my mom. Should I check you myself just to be sure he asked. Given that the nurse had made a mistake on my previous birth that had derailed my whole birth it seemed like a great idea. When she checked an hour ago you were at an 8 he told me.

He checked and I knew the news wasn’t good when he really had to reach in far. So you are actually at a 5 he said. I wanted to say I told you so to that awful nurse who insisted that her dumb machines knew more than I did. “Can we turn the pit up then to get this show on the road I asked. HE agreed and before long we had it at full strength.

Dr. Chappell suggested breaking my water and Joseph and I decided we would rather wait and labor for awhile first. He left and we continued with the waiting. About 10 pm I started feeling myself getting closer emotionally. I started to notice myself holding back because I didn’t want to descend to that place where I felt I had no control. I felt like I needed to process some things and I couldn’t with an audience so I asked my mom and sister to take a walk. I talked some thing through with the midwife and just spent some time in quiet contemplation.

Joseph and I did some walking. Shift change at the hospital meant we got a new nurse and it saved me from firing the one we had as I had about reached my limit with her. She kept saying all this stuff that she couldn’t let me do. Looking back I realized that she was saying “SHE couldn’t let me.” meaning I could do it she just couldn’t allow it. I wish I would have just kindly informed her I know you can’t but I can and done what I wanted. But at any rate once she was gone I took the new nurse aside and explained that doing this without pain medication was really important to me and that I couldn’t get in my zone and do it with a nurse in my face and that infernal monitor on my belly. I asked her to please do whatever she could do to help me find a way to have the birth I really wanted.

She told me that since I had a great support team of my own she would just stay out of it and to call if I wanted her. I didn’t see her for the next 4 hours and it was heaven. Anyway back to my processing. After working through some feelings I started to feel this primal urge to hide. I wanted a closed secure cozy place to have this baby and I needed to find a position I felt comfortable enough to lose control in. I was having a hard time finding it. Maria intuitvely knew I needed privacy and she left for a nap in another room. Joseph and I talked and hugged and prepared for what was coming. Finally I found my safe place laying on my side in the bed with him holding my hand and rubbing my back.

About this time it was 12:30 just after midnight. I told him to get the doc I was ready for them to break my water. They brought in the on call doc to do it and called Dr. Chappell to give him a heads up. She broke my water and the first contraction afterward had me making gutterall birthing noises. My sister heard me from the hallway and thought it was the baby. I quickly got to my knees and leaned over the back of the bed (It was all the way up) Maria heard me yelling from the other room and she came to do counter pressure on my hips. After what seemed to me to be about 5 minutes but was really about 30 I started asking for an epidural.

Joseph suggested ( like I had asked) that we turn the pit down instead. WE turned it down and I tried a few more contractions. Soon I was begging again. So we turned it down again. At this point I wish I had had Joseph up by my head. He and MAria were doing counter pressure on my hips but looking back I think I needed him closer to my face. Finally I was quite sure I couldn’t take another contraction. give me something else than I begged, remembering at this point that this was what I wanted, if I truly needed something I wanted to try something else before an epidural. I don’t know what was happening but it seemed like no one was responding to my request.

I was starting to feel the urge to push and I was afraid that I couldn’t get through this part. I was scared. Looking back I wish I would have voiced that I was afraid of what came next instead of just thinking it. By voicing it, it allows me to process and allows others to more fully support me. By just thinking it it was causing me to lose focus on what I should have been doing which was relaxing through the contractions.

Joseph came right up to my face and held me in his arms, you can do this. He told me you are almost there. Do you want to try? His tenderness, and the earnestness in his voice was almost enough to give me the strength to do it and had he stayed with me a little longer I probably could have but as another contraction hit he faded away and I felt lost as it washed over me.

I started to feel like I was pooping the biggest poop of my life. I was pushing and I couldn’t help it. Looking back here I also wish I had told someone, requested a mirror and got in a position where I could have my hand down there. I think it would have helped me engage in the process better instead of allowing it to happen to me.

My head was in the mattress and a sheet was over me and I don’t think anyone realized I was pushing. I begged again for the epidural, this time directing my request specifically to Dr. Chappell. He got the guy in there to give it to me in less than three minutes. I kept begging them to hurry knowing that I was going to push this baby out any second and not wanting to do it.

I was laying on my back they had me all scrubbed up and were instructing me to hold perfectly still so that he could insert the needle. When Maria suddenly said, “She is pushing!” They pulled off the sheet and sure enough the head was right there half way out. I pushed a couple of times and shouted “it burns” just like almost every woman I’ve ever seen give birth and then I felt the head come out and the shoulders turn inside of me. I could feel the shoulder bones slip out with the next push and then that gush as the rest of the body slipped effortlessly out and I heard Dr. Chappell say “Its a girl!”

At that point the pain in the birth canal was as intense as the contractions had been. I remember hearing the nurse instructing me that the baby was on my chest I needed to hold her and rub her dry. But I felt frozen in place and in agonizing pain. I kept screaming, It hurts so much! Finally they took the baby away and cleaned her up, weighed her a did what they do. I guess they let Joseph cut the cord but I don’t really remember. I just couldn’t figure out why the pain wasnt stopping.

After awhile they brought the baby back and tried again to get me to hold her. This time i made more of an effort and with her in my arms the pain seemed to lessen and my focus was on her perfect little face.

I never did find out why I had that kind of pain. Its something I want to understand before I have another baby. But I do want another one and can’t wait for this whole crazy experience all over again.

We hadn’t picked out a name yet, but Johannah was in the running as that was my sisters name who had been there and it was also the name of a very special family friend. It seemed like the right fight for our chubby little 8lb 13 oz bundle of joy.

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What gift will He have for you?

It was possibly the hardest day of my life up to this point. I sat in the Celestial room of the temple pouring my heart out to God. (For those of you who may not know what this is or have never been there let me give a brief description. A temple is house that members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints build for GOd. We believe that it is literally a home for him on earth. Because of this and because we believe that not only does he reside there but it is in this place that he provides a way for us to bless the lives of many others it is made as perfectly and as beautifully as we can make it. The Celestial room is the most special place in the whole temple and is a place that represents the ultimate heaven for us. ) This room, this special place inside a house dedicated to God usually brought such peace but this day I couldn’t seem to stop the tears.

I sat in the furthest corner I could find my head down my face shielded by my hair falling over my shoulders and I sobbed. My head was pounding from the intensity of the emotion, my hands were full of tissues all but dissolved from the abundance of tears. I felt HIs presence there, I felt peace in the room but my heart ached so much I had a hard time allowing it to penetrate. When I felt that I had my tears a little under control I moved to a couch nearer the center of the room. I looked up into the gleaming chandelier above me that seemed to reach down from heaven almost touching the huge bouquet of flowers of the earth sitting on the table below. I felt my Fathers presence and I knew my tears mattered to him. I spoke to him silently. Father, I know you are here, I know you love me, I feel your spiritual hug, but today I just need physical arms, I need flesh and bones, I need a hug!

Celestial-Room-Mexico-City-Mexico-Temple-752x440I lowered my head, looking at the ball of tissues in my hand, I took a deep breathe determined to pull myself together. A pair of white slippers walked into view, a white dress floating above slender white ankles. They stopped in front of me. I looked up into the eyes of a girl I barely knew.  She had been in my ward but had left a couple weeks earlier to serve a mission. She smiled at me. “I thought I knew you” she said.

“I thought you were on your mission?” I asked.

“I am but I am still at the Missionary training center across the street and today is our temple day. Its so nice to see a familiar face” she said as she sat down next to me. “How are you doing?”

Her question was sincere. My answer was not. “I’m ok.” I said not very convincingly.

“Can I give you a hug?”She asked.

The tears rushed forth again as I saw the Lord fulfill my request within a matter of seconds. I hugged her probably harder and longer than she was expecting. I’ll never know if she knew that she had been the Lords arms for me that day. I’ve never seen her since then but she taught me something very important.

The Lord has no limits. He loves us deeply, he counts every tear we cry and when he can’t physically put arms around us he sends others to do the job. When he can’t physically feed us he sends others with food. And when he can’t literally teach us he sends others with a message for us.

This weekend is General Conference. It is a time when LDS church leaders who have been praying for months about what message the Father would have them relay to us will speak to us of the impressions and answers they feel are the most urgent for us to hear. What will they say? What questions do you have? What will you hear?

I promise you that if you have a question or a request such as I had that day in the Celestial room. The Lord will respond to you this weekend during conference. Ask, wait, listen, and you will hear his answer. Whoever you are, where ever you sit He is there he is listening to you and he will answer you.

For me as I drag my heavily pregnant body through the day I will be listening for a message of encouragement for moms who are struggling to find meaning and purpose in the day to day struggle of raising toddlers. I will be listening for messages of how to navigate the struggles that come with marriage, I will be listening for advice on how to find balance in my life and peace in my heart. I will be trying to draw more strength from Him and less from the world around me. 21752026_1968995749988057_3585119812092829969_n

What are your questions? If you care to share leave me some comments. We can listen together!

I Am Not White: A perspective on racism

I’ve learned a lot about racism in the last 4 years. In Uganda they have a name for white people. Musungu. As you walk down the streets people will call out “Musungu” especially children. At first I liked it. It was like having a name and everyone knew me. It made me feel at home. Then I started to see it differently; I heard things like

“You can’t do laundry well you are Musungu”

“Give me money Musungu you have much.”

“Your wife is a Musungu she can’t cook”

“Musungu can’t dig”

Musungu don’t want to have children, they don’t dress modestly…the list went on. I felt that no one saw me. They just saw the color of my skin. Their idea of who I was as a “Musungu” had been shaped by hollywood. The stereo type I was placed in by my skin color alone was based on what the media had shown them.

I AM NOT WHITE

My skin is white I am not. I am Mormon, I am a Mother, I am a wife, I am happy. Those are choices I have made they are the things I have made an effort to become. They tell you something about me. White is just the color my skin happens to be.

By the way…my eyes are blue. Just in case that matters.

If minorities are poorer, have fewer opportunities or are stereo typed I believe that these are not problems of race they are problems of community, of choices, of habit and even of dreams.

When I told my family that I was marrying Joseph they had ideas in their mind about what that meant. They pictured a stereo type of a black man in America. It took less than a day before they had recategorized him based on his actions, and choices which were apparent in his appearance and demeanor.

I don’t believe that our police officers in general are out to get black people. I think they are put in a position because of their jobs where they are required to make snap judgements about people. Their judgements can mean life and death for themselves and those around them.

If you want respect be Respect -able.

 

Joseph and I have talked a lot in the last few days about this and he says,

“I am not sure why people are surprised by racism, Racism is a tool that has been used by political kings and masters to divide and rule communities and nations. It has existed as long as the human family. It’s human nature to notice differences in another person and one of those differences is skin color.

All of us have labels and one of them right now being pointed out is skin color. But there is one label that is crucial that we put on everyday, that is appearance. People will argue or say don’t judge me by how I look but the truth is before you say anything to any person, your outward appearance says a lot about you. The way you dress, the language you choose to use etc.

This is how I feel about the situation in Minnesota. We don’t have all the facts of what happened that evening at 9pm. We can only formulate speculations and frame stories of that incident. I am black and very grateful that I am housed into this skin color and so at first I imagined myself in the situation, picturing me with my beautiful family getting shot for some reason. I allowed myself to fear. But then I have tried to analyze the story, both from the view of that policeman and the gentleman who got shot.

Once again with no full facts and details of what really happened we can only speculate and frame the incident from our perspective. I suspect the media wants to frame it as racism so that they can emotionally appeal to most of the people. We can fear, we can let it divide us into camps of black lives or all lives, we can go forth with racial flames. Or we can come together for all the Americans who were killed in this tragic incidence. We can do our best to find justice and we can mourn with all the families that were involved in this tragedy, for any life taken is irreplaceable. May the almighty who is the creator of black skin and white, the giver and author of both life and justice intervene to help us comfort all involved.

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A Plea for Help

Poverty is a difficult thing. The more I learn about it the more complex it is. My eyes have been opened in the last three or so years in a way that I never could have imagined. We judge poverty by our own experiences. If someone doesn’t have running water or indoor plumbing we consider that a hardship because we have it and couldn’t imagine doing with out. My husband grew up without it and sees it as a superflous thing that doesn’t mean much to him. He sees what Americans have given up in order to have such modern conveniences and to him it’s not necessarily a win.

Sometimes as Americans we are a bit smug even in our desires to help. People don’t need rescuing, they don’t need someone to push for them to have the same modern convenices that we consider essential. Most of the time they just need an opportunity.

When I was in Uganda, my budget was kind of tight. I had used everything I had to pay my way there and to pay for my expenses during the 5 months that I lived there. Yet I was surrounded on every side by people who had less than me. How could I not help?

On the other hand, how could I help? Every day I encountered handicapped people whose needs far exceeded anything that I could give to make a difference, I encountered children who lived on the streets and had no home to go to. I encountered single moms struggling and often failing to care for their children. I saw people who were sick, suffering and the need was overwhelming. I helped where I could and I consoled myself with the fact that I was there making a difference. I was volunteering for a non-profit that helps single moms become self sufficient. Musana was making a difference and I could feel good about how I was spending my time and the little money I had. IMG_1613

Then one day I was walking the streets of Kampala making arrangements for the new street sign we were putting up at Musana. A woman approached me, obviously hungry, she had a small child strapped to her back and she was clutching her obviously empty breasts and pleading for help. She didn’t speak english but her message was clear. She had nothing to feed her baby. The baby looked at me with large open eyes from his mothers back. I shrugged my shoulders indicating that I had nothing for her and moved on. It felt heartless but what could I do? I couldn’t help everyone.

Since then I have had my own children. I have sat in a cozy gliding rocker in a decorated nursery and nursed my babies. During those times that I have not had enough milk I have gone to the kitchen and quickly made a bottle to satisfy my chubby sweet baby. I have come home from church after several hours of not being able to eat and made myself something to eat to help with that cold empty shaking feeling in my stomach that nursing a hungry baby leaves if you don’t eat enough.

Every day since my son was born that woman has been in my mind and heart. I have wept tears over the help I didn’t offer. Needless to say I would do things differently if I could go back. Still I would be faced with the same dilemma of too much need for my capabilities to help; but this woman, this one woman, I could have helped to feed her child. She came to me I could have done something.

A friend of mine is preparing for her own humanitarian trip to Uganda in May. She s raising $25,000 to build an orphanage while she is there. She is asking that we and anyone who is willing participate in “7 days of nothing” now I cringe a little at the title because having seen people who have nothing and it hardly compares. But the idea is to do without something for 7 days and donate your savings to the cause. Perhaps you can eat simply for 7 days. Nothing but beans, rice and oatmeal (typical food for many  families all over the world) Perhaps you can forgo using your running water and carry whatever water you need from an outdoor faucet, to get a feel for the way the majority of the world lives. Maybe try walking or riding your bike to work or the grocery store if you can.581766_10151416836355658_826602642_n

And if that is too much for you maybe you can skip your daily latte, or a trip to the salon. or go on a sugar fast for a week. Save what you can and send it to my friend to help build an orphanage. For Joseph and I we have washed our own clothes by hand, carried our water, walked wherever we need to go, done without many things and we know how to do it. We will be joining my friend in her 7 days of nothing and perhaps that woman and her sickly child will not haunt me so much. For you I pray that you will find something that works for you someway that you can give and I think you will find that the bigger your sacrifice the more impact it will have on your life.

Polygamy is just more

polygamyRecently two of my friends have told me that they almost wished that they lived polygamy so that they could have some help with the house work and/or kids. I smiled a little when they said that but didn’t say what I really wanted to say. It’s an innocent and understandable thing to think but has a few flaws. Here is what I really wanted to explain to them but it just wasn’t the right time or place.

Now I always feel that I have to add a disclaimer when discussing polygamy since I never actually lived in it as a wife myself. However, living in it as a child, and a young woman who anticipated living in it as a wife, I do have some perspective. The first thing that comes to mind when people when people say that, is that they seem to be forgetting that the “other wife” won’t just be another woman living in “her” home. It will be another WIFE, an equal in every way. The home will be HERS too. She will want just as much say in how the home should be run, how it should be decorated etc as you do. She is his wife and will want and NEED all the same things that you did when you married. You had to learn to get along with your husband, to accommodate his needs and wishes and now you will need to do the same with her.

Another thing that many don’t consider is that she might not be any help at all. She might have half a dozen kids that you will be responsible for in addition to your own while she goes to work to earn the extra income that will be needed to support the extra family. She might be a horrible house keeper, a worse cook and she might not like the way you raise your kids and have her own very different ideas about discipline. And since your children are now hers as well you will have to learn how to accommodate each other.

Now don’t get me wrong there are some positive things about having a sister-wife. I’ve seen sisterwives that genuinely enjoy each others company and on nights when their husband is away until late they hang out together and enjoy some girl time after the kids are in bed. They both love each others children and can share in and enjoy all the little things their kids do in ways that some one less invested just couldn’t.

I’ve seen sisterwives that were able to help each other with new-born babies, even supplying breast milk when one might not have enough. It’s nice to be able to leave your children and know they are in capable hands of someone who loves them.

I’ve seen it work out great when one wife has a talent or skill that the other just doesn’t. In my family we all knew that if we hurt ourselves and needed a sliver removed or a bandage put on Mother A was the one to go to. Or if you needed a hammer or screw driver or just a safety-pin Mother B would have it in her super organized drawer of “stuff” Mother C would plan vacations and be in charge of the garden when the others had no interest. Mother D enjoyed playing with the children and would make messy fun with homemade playdough. Mother E could make the softest yummiest rolls. Her steady diligence kept the huge yard watered. and Mother F was a live in Grammy. Each of them has unique gifts and talents that have made our home better in some way.

My point is that there are benefits to having multiple wives but I’ve never heard anyone who actually has lived that way suggest that one of the benefits is having help around the house. It takes a lot of selflessness, hard work and forgiveness. sometimes it turns out wonderful and sometimes it doesnt.Its just like marriage between a man and a wife only more of everything…more wives, more complicated, more children, more work, more house to clean, more love, more joy, and more sacrifice.

And Then There Were Four

The fourth of July has always been a special day for me. I love that holiday. A year and a half ago it became that much more special when my husband proposed to me on that day. This year we are planning a new exciting way of celebrating that holiday. We thought it would be fitting to celebrate by adding a fourth member to our family!

Yep thats right I’m pregnant…again!

None of us have been very sure how to feel about this. When I first suspected that I might be I panicked because I didn’t think my body was ready to do it all over again. Then I started thinking about how much I love having a special gift from heaven kicking and stretching and moving around inside me, I thought of how much I adore Preston and how much joy he has brought into our lives and I desperately wanted that test to be positive.

I decided to surprise Joseph this time and not tell him I was taking the test until after I had seen the results. He was getting ready for work so I went in the bathroom took the test and waited anxiously to see what it would reveal. With in a few seconds a could see that plus sign emerging and I was so excited.

I went to the bathroom where Joseph was shaving and knocked on the door. He opened it and I said “So I have something to show you.” I held up the positive test.

He looked at it with a blank expression. What does that mean he said.

“It means we are going to have another baby!”

“Ill wait till I see it was his response. But he looked a little shaken and dazed.

In the next few days our roles kind of reversed. as morning sickness kind of took over my body and my life I became dazed and terrified of all that I knew lay in store for us.

Joseph became super excited.”Hows my girl?”He would ask me when he would get home from work.

“I’m sick.”I would answer.

“I’m sorry about that. But I meant my other girl” he would say with a little smile as he rubbed the spot that is just starting to grow.

Preston is another one who is not quite sure how he feels about this change.

PicMonkey Collage

But in the end I think we are all very excited about the new little spirit that will be joining our family this coming July!

How I wish for Waterfall fingers!

I had an experience tonight that brought back some special memories. My husband took our baby for an hour or so tonight and let me just sit and play the piano. Its something I haven’t done in far too long. I was shocked at how much my fingers had forgotten. My heart and my brain wanted to play like not a day had gone by but my fingers seemed slow and rigid. As I played though it started to come back and I had a feeling that I’ve really missed. My cares and concerns, my aches and pains started to drift away as I got lost in old songs that I still somehow remembered.

As my husband and baby listened from the other room occasionally piping in with a comment it brought immense satisfaction and sweet memories of sitting in our living room in Aunt Hannah’s old house. (She had died and left her home to us but it would always be Aunt Hannah’s house.) I would play the piano and get lost in my feelings, in my hopes and dreams for the future, in the music itself, in the sweet feeling of feeling my fingers move effortlessly over the keys.

Then, my mother listened from the other room. I knew she was lying on the couch reading the newspaper. I could hear the pages turning and I knew she was listening. I would pick a song that I had practiced earlier in the day; one I knew she hadn’t heard me play before and I would play it waiting to hear what she would have to say about it. I always knew which songs she enjoyed and which ones she was just putting up with until I finished. Some times if I practiced a passage too many times over I would hear her sigh a little and I would switch to playing a song I knew she enjoyed like Breakers or Only You.

Sometimes I would get frustrated with a difficult passage and I would slam the key board with both hands and give up. Vilate…try it again I would hear her say from around the corner. Sometimes I would pound just to get a reaction out of her or to let her know I was annoyed at something. When my feelings where especially wound up and every song made me pound I would eventually give up and go soak away my cares in the tub.

I miss those days, and I will always be grateful to my mother for the part that she played in helping me to develop this talent. It was difficult to continue with it sometimes but she never let me quit and she always let me know how much she enjoyed hearing me play. It gave me a reason to practice and get better.

Those days are gone and now its my turn to be the mother and to foster those talents and others in my own children. But it felt good to go back tonight if only for an hour and enjoy the old songs and the old feelings. And even though my fingers fumble a little and trip over themselves when I try to play songs like Waterfall and All Of Me, the music and the memories will always be a part of who I am. 76178_449134880657_1450414_n

This photo was taken after a 10 piano concert. My favorite thing about this photo is that I had decided to ruin it by totally cheesing it up. Turns out everyone else had the same idea and all of our cheesy smiles look the same!