Parker's Birth Story

After Ashtyn was born, I said it was the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life. And it was. It still is. It was not a horror story, but I still came away from it sure that I would never do a natural birth again. It was so hard, but as time passed, the memory became less real and more of a blur.

Fast forward 20 months and here I was again, ready for another natural birth, but this time much more prepared. And this time, the difference was night and day.

My due date was June 3rd. On Tuesday morning (May 31st), I woke up at four am with a few sporadic, pretty intense contractions. It felt very similar to what I woke up to with Ashtyn, so I thought maybe it was labor. 

It wasn't. Turns out it was the baby dropping. Usually, babies come 7 to 10 days after dropping, so I was assuming that would be the timeline for our baby as well. 

That evening, I lost my mucous plug, but I didn't realize it. All I saw was a few drops of red blood, which isn't usually a good sign, and I called my midwife Donna. She had me lay down and take Vitamin K, which seemed to help. 

The next morning, Donna came for a scheduled appointment in the morning. Everything was looking and sounding good. We found the cord hanging high, meaning that the placenta was most likely above the baby as well. Donna scheduled another appointment, fully expecting my baby to come before then. 

She left to her other appointments and we went about our day, Ben working and me doing my normal get-things-done-while-Ashtyn-is-sleeping stuff. Then I noticed the blood was back and that there seemed to be more of it. I took a Vitamin K and laid down, hoping it would stop. 

An hour later, it hadn't, so I called Donna. I was catching her just as she was almost home, but she was very concerned, so she turned around and came back. She was worried that the placenta was actually under the baby and covering the cervix, which would mean an automatic transfer to the hospital for a c-section. That situation is called placenta previa and a c-section is the safest way (and often the only way) to ensure the baby's safe delivery. I was in tears, very stressed and not wanting to be in that situation, but Ben sat with me and we waited for Donna so we could know what the situation actually was and what our options were with it. 

Donna arrived and she did an internal exam to determine whether the placenta was there or not. She reached in and instead of finding the placenta, she found the baby's head! Oh, how happy we all were. Not only did she find the baby's head, but I was dilated to a four. I was in labor and I didn't even know it. I was having Braxton-hicks. They were a little more intense than normal, but they lasted ten seconds or less and came so randomly, I would go two hours without one and then have three in twenty minutes. I'd try timing them, but I was sure it wasn't labor. 

Donna had Ben put on a glove and feel the baby's head. While he was doing that (it probably took about five minutes), I progressed more and was dilated to about a six. I thought about what it took to get dilated to a six with Ashtyn and felt euphoric at the difference. 

Donna had her birth stuff in the trunk and felt I was progressing fast enough that she didn't dare leave. She called her assistants and Ben had a few last minute things to do to get ready for the birth (we needed a few prescriptions for the baby, Donna wanted me to drink soy milk to stimulate some real contractions, and we dropped Ashtyn off with Ben's mom).

While he was gone, Donna had me walk stairs, which very quickly brought on some contractions. This was about 3:45. They were between 20 and 30 seconds long, with 2 to 3 minutes between each one. The contractions were getting stronger, but weren't too bad. I was honestly so happy with how my labor was going so far (especially compared to last time) that the contractions felt like nothing to me. 

Around 4:30, my contractions were starting to get pretty intense. They were longer, more like a minute long, but still 3 to 5 minutes apart. I turned on Hypnobabies and laid on the bed, focusing on relaxing. It took a lot of concentration at this point to stay relaxed during the contractions. It was nice to have the space between them, it gave me a chance to focus. I felt better prepared with Hypnobabies and it really helped to think about what the contractions were doing--moving the baby down and opening my cervix. Concentrating on that really helped me relax my body. 

I lost track of time and let myself forget about the outside world. Donna checked me once more and I was dilated to an eight. The contractions were getting intense by this point, so I was really happy to know I'd already made it into transition (the hardest part of labor, where your body dilates from a 7 to a 10). 

They set up the place where I would do the pushing and moved me there, checking me again. I hadn't progressed tons since the last check, so they broke my water. The contractions were beginning to get closer together and at this point, they didn't go away entirely between each contraction. 

I lay on the end of the bed, holding Ben's hand, with him kneeling over me. While I held his hand and needed that support, I was able to relax enough that I didn't need them to squeeze every time a contraction came. 

I was definitely feeling done with it all and was going to ask Donna to check me again to see how close I was when I suddenly felt the urge to push. I never felt this with Ashtyn's birth; then, the midwives just told me I could push whenever and I was so tired of labor that I just started pushing. It was a weird, strong sensation. 

The pushing part was the only thing about this labor that felt harder than with Ashtyn's birth process. With Ashtyn, I just pushed. It was painful as she crowned, but I just let go. This led to tearing and much harder recovery period. This time around, pushing was so different. 

Donna held her hand at Parker's head, instructing me to push against her if I felt any pain or burning at all. They gave me so much support and Donna let me know what was going on the entire time. A contraction would come and I'd push. If I felt pain or burning, Donna would help me relax (while I squeezed poor Ben's hand harder than anything, because relaxing at this point was so hard). This let the baby's head work it's way out of my body without tearing the skin or damaging anything inside. 

I was getting discouraged, with how hard this part was, so Donna guided my hand down and let me feel the head. She told me I only had one or two contractions left and the baby would be out. The next contraction, the baby made it through. The sensation of the baby coming out (and I remember this with Ashtyn too) is the weirdest and most satisfying sensation I've ever felt in my life. 

We waited to find out the gender and I told Ben before labor began that it was his job to check. He teased me that he was going to tell me the wrong one, but I knew he was joking. As soon as she was out, Ben squeezed my hand gently and told me, "It's a girl," with a big grin on his face. I was so happy. 

It was still not easy, but once again, it was totally worth it. There is something so sweet and precious about newborns. I feel so grateful for my two babies and the joy they bring to our little family. 

A Sunday Blessing

I've been meaning to share this post for a few days, but we've been pretty busy preparing for and having our new little baby!

On Sunday, I had a moment of gratitude that I wanted to write about. 

Ashtyn and I were sitting in sacrament. Ben is a young men's leader and, because we only have probably six young men total in our ward, he helps with the sacrament pretty much every week. This last week, he was up blessing the bread and water. 

As we sang the sacrament hymn, the Spirit filled me so suddenly and powerfully. I couldn't help but look around as we sang the words "the blessings of this day will linger in our thankful hearts and silently we pray for courage to accept thy will, to listen and obey," and thank my Heavenly Father for everything I had. 

I looked next to me at my sweet baby girl, sitting with her little hymn book in her lap, being so cute and well behaved for so young and thought, "What did I do that I get to have this sweet spirit here with me for a time?" Then I looked up at my wonderful husband, so serious as he broke the bread apart, and tears came as I thanked my Heavenly Father for the faith and diligence of the worthy priesthood holder I was married to. 

I truly feel blessed to have the family I do. 

The Best Fifteen Minutes of my Day

During the first three months of Ashtyn's life, I literally thought I was going to die of sleep deprivation. And she wasn't a bad sleeper, as far as babies went. She was just a baby and I do not do well without eight straight hours of sleep every night. Go without that for three months and I'm miserable.

Because of that, I spent a lot of those first three months of her life reading and studying about how to get babies to sleep. I read blogs, books, and as many websites as I could find and I learned a lot of helpful things. I also began to see a pattern, something that everyone seemed to repeat, whether they used the cry it out method or were all for you rocking your baby to sleep every night.

If you want your baby to sleep well, there are two main things you need to do: get them on a pretty consistent schedule (what this means for you and your family, you get to decide) and part of that schedule needs to involve a bedtime (and nap time) routine.

I really wanted sleep, so I stuck to this religiously. I really wanted Ashtyn to sleep, both for her sake and mine.

Little did I know how dear to my heart this time would become.

Our routine has grown and changed a little as she's gotten over. I quickly abandoned the bath at bedtime, because I was too tired by the time bedtime came around and it didn't seem to calm her down anyways. I would just swaddle her, read a couple books to her, and sing a song before putting her down in her crib.

Now, we still read together. Then we say a prayer, sing whatever nursery rhymes Ashtyn wants, and then snuggle while I sing a hymn or primary song to her.

It's honestly one of the best things we do together. I love looking at the books and seeing how smart Ashtyn is. We giggle, count, and discover together as we look at the pages and Ashtyn always wants more when we're done. I secretly do too.

Then Ashtyn turns around so she's sitting on my lap facing me and I help her say a prayer. Then she almost always wants to say one by herself. She usually has a lot to say, let me tell you. It's always so funny to hear her "prayers".

Then we sing nursery rhymes. This is probably Ashtyn's favorite parts. She loves choosing the song almost as much as actually singing it. From "itby itby ibty" (the itsy bitsy spider) to "tall tall tall" (Once there was a snowman) to "poppy poppy window" (Popcorn popping), she gets so excited. She is so smart, she knows most of the lyrics and it's so cute to hear. When we finish, I'll say "One more time" and hold my finger up, so now she'll do that too and it's basically so cute that it's impossible to resist doing it one more time, even if we've already done it five.

Then it's time to snuggle. She used to lay her head on my shoulder, but usually now she wraps her little arms around my big belly and lays her head on my chest. She knows a lot of the lyrics to a lot of the songs I sing her and tries to sing along with me. This is my favorite part. I love holding my sweet baby close and sometimes the Spirit is so strong in the room, my heart just swells with gratitude. I have never felt a stronger or sweeter assurance of God's love or of the divinity of my role as a mother than during those precious moments, holding my daughter and sharing my testimony through music with her.

I am so blessed.

Loving Life

My life now is so different than when Ben and I were living in Orem. It constantly amazes me, when I stop and look at how truly blessed I am with the life we live now (not that we weren't blessed in Orem as well, it just seems as if life keeps getting better and better).

One of those moments for me was Saturday. Saturday morning, Ben left Ashtyn and I shortly after Ashtyn waking up to go help his grandparents chop wood. Ashtyn and I hung out all day by ourselves, eating breakfast and lunch, playing outside, having a bubble bath, and watching Elmo's World while I did some meal prepping for when the baby comes. It was a pretty normal day for us, except that Ben wasn't in the house.

Even though Ben is up in his office working a lot, it feels different to have him gone. He doesn't come down for food or to share some exciting news. We can't go up and visit to say hi. It just is different to have him out of the house.

Having him gone reminded me of when he used to go to work every day at TestOut. I remember hating to see him go and counting down the hours with him (over email) until he could come home. It was a good job and he seemed happy for the most part. We still found time to spend together, even with a newborn and him being so busy (with two jobs and school), but it was definitely a more stressful and crazy time of life.

Now, it feels as if our life is perfect at times. I know it's not, but it sure feels great to be living the kind of life that we both want. Ben loves his job. He looks forward to Monday because he gets to work. He comes down all excited about what he's working on pretty much every day and I can just tell that he loves what he does every day. I love that.

As for Ashtyn and I, we get the best of both worlds. We get to hang out all day together, doing just whatever we want. If we want to stay in pajamas and watch Elmo all day, we can. If we want to go to the library or the park, or go visit someone, we can. I love having the freedom to relax and I love having Ben around. With our soon-to-arrive baby coming soon, I'm especially grateful for that.

I love our life. There are things about life that aren't great, of course. Life is never perfect. But I have to say, ours is pretty darn close.

In Marriage, It's the Little Things

Sometimes it's easy, especially in our day of Facebook and Instagram and Snapchat, to see other people's lives and wish yours was more like theirs. This is definitely not a healthy view and I think it's especially destructive in a marriage. Instead of noticing what is lacking in your spouse, it's so much better to see the little things they do for you and feel grateful for it. 

This past week, a bad cold has hit our little family. Poor Ben had it the worst. Despite being pregnant, mine was the least bad (more an annoyance than anything, where poor Ben and Ashtyn were miserable). 

Even though Ben was miserable, he still was so thoughtful and kind to me. There were several times specifically that I noticed this and it made my heart swell with love and gratitude for the wonderful man I married. 

One such time was when we were getting ready for bed. I saw there was a roll of toilet paper on the bedside table. Ben already had a roll on the dresser next to his side of the bed, so I wasn't sure what it was doing there. I put it in the drawer, to be out of the way. 

When Ben got into bed, he asked where it was. I told him and he told me that he had gotten it for me, in case I needed to blow my nose during the night. It was such a thoughtful gesture, especially since his nose was way worse than mine. 

Another time, he went downstairs and got my water for me before bed, making sure I had it to stay hydrated. It was a small thing, but the fact that he was thinking of me and what I might need during the night when he was feeling so poorly himself meant so much to me. 

Even while he was sick, he still helped out a lot with dishes, food, and with watching Ashtyn. I'm sure all he wanted to was sit on the couch, but he still helped because that's who he is. 

Sometimes, in a relationship, grand or romantic gestures like flowers or a romantic get away are nice, but really, wouldn't you rather have a person who day in and day out thinks of you and puts your needs ahead of their own? 

I'm so blessed to have that. I know that Ben and I aren't perfect and we're always working on making our relationship better, but I'm so grateful to have someone who tries so hard for me. I love him. 

The Minimum List

This pregnancy, I've struggled a lot more emotionally than when I was pregnant with Ashtyn. With her, I don't remember ever going through emotional ups and downs. There was the time someone honked at me while I was driving and it made me cry, but I don't think I was as tender. This pregnancy has been a whole different story.

One of the side effects of this emotional roller coaster for me has been lack of productivity. I remember one day, I thought about doing the laundry and it made me want to cry. I wake up some days just emotionally worn out and it makes me want to do absolutely nothing.

When we first moved to our apartment, I had these great aspirations. I had a to-do list for each different day and it was loaded with cleaning, business ventures, exercising, organizing, reading and language learning, and making food. I had all these ideas about keeping the apartment clean all the time, the fridge stocked with super healthy food and snacks, keep on tons of stuff for improving myself, all of the things I'm supposed to do because I'm pregnant (which could be an entire post on its own) and still having time for Ashtyn and Ben. At first, I was doing pretty good at finishing my list, but I honestly was just exhausted all the time and I felt like I never finished everything that I wanted to.

I eventually burned myself out and just sort of stopped doing anything at all, because I knew  I couldn't do everything. That was the worst time, emotionally, for me.

Now I have a new system and I love it. It acknowledges that I can't do everything, motivates me to get moving when I am feeling lazy, and lets me know that even if I don't get anything else done, at least I did the things that are most important.

I have minimums that I do everyday.

In the morning (preferably before Ashtyn wakes up), I do scripture reading and journal and get dressed. I also like to make the bed, if Ben wakes up before Ashtyn. Of course, there are other things that I like to get done (like clearing out the dishwasher or making bread), but if I don't, that's okay. I get my minimum in. I do scriptures then because otherwise, I won't do it, and I get dressed because being dressed for the day makes it more likely that I'll feel productive.

While Ashtyn is awake, I don't have any minimums. I do things, like make breakfast, but I also get to just hang out with Ashtyn if I want and I love that.

During her nap, I have a minimum ten minute work out that I do (I'll probably change this up after I'm pregnant, but I have a work out routine that works really well for being pregnant right now). I also work on something for business (whether it's writing, planning out my business, or helping Ben with his business stuff) for ten minutes. It's not long, but sometimes I end up working longer on it.

My other minimum is at night. Before going to bed sometime, I load up the dishwasher. Sometimes this ends with me cleaning the entire kitchen or apartment before bed and sometimes I'm so tired, I just load the dishes and leave the rest of the mess for later. Doing this, though, leaves the kitchen cleaner for the morning, making it easier for me to want to do things in the kitchen, and also ensures that we'll have clean dishes the next day.

I really love this system. I've been doing it for about a week and it has worked so well. When I'm having a hard day or am tired, I still feel like I get things done, and I definitely feel more productive because of it. I also think my mood has been better because of it.

A Chef In Training

I have recently realized that cooking has become one of my favorite past times. This is both very surprising to me and not surprising at all.

Growing up, my mom loved to cook. She was working full time, going to school, and raising three kids by herself, but we always had homemade meals for dinner. Looking back now, I'm amazed that she put in the time and effort to do so. I know she did it because it was best for us and for our family (and our finances!), but also because she loved to cook.

I helped her in the kitchen often, browning hamburger, shredding cheese, and peeling potatoes. A few times, for young women's and such, Mom helped me make an entire meal. I never really got into, though, and by the time I was a teenager/young adult, I thought I just didn't like to cook.

I remember I was dating this guy once who obviously had an expectation of his future wife cooking the meals for him the majority of the time. We were talking about cooking and I said something like, "I'm not good at good at cooking and I just don't really have time to learn."

He stopped me there and said something about choosing what we put our time into. He, of course, was right, but at that moment, I realized I had zero desire to learn to cook. At least, at that point in my life. I was in school, working full time, dating, going to institute, writing a novel, running everyday, teaching myself piano, hanging out with friends, and soon after preparing for a mission. My life was so full of wonderful things and I was living at home. There was no reason for me to spend the time to learn to cook.

Six months later, I found myself a newlywed wife and Ben and I really wanted to eat healthy. That means making your own food, for the most part, though. Especially when you're poor college students living on less than 20,000 a year.

The early days were filled with a lot of cereal-for-dinner nights and really simple meals like bean dip, spaghetti, and chicken cooked on the stove in garlic powder. I remember the first time I made chicken. We had bought it and Ben was at work. I had literally no idea what to do with it, so I called my mom. She talked me through it and we had something edible that night, but there were definitely a lot more calls to mom about how to make something (or google searches!).

One night, I decided I wanted to make a white sauce for pasta. I found a recipe online, but it apparently wasn't a very good one. I added the milk, butter, and flour all at the same time, so the butter didn't mix in with the milk, and I ended up with a very interesting sauce. After calling my mom and realizing what I'd done wrong, I added a can of mushroom soup and some cheese to my pan in an attempt to save dinner. I thought it was so gross, but Ben told me that it was his favorite thing I'd made up to that point. He ate it all. I never made it again, though.

Since then, I've learned a lot. I'm still learning, but I am getting to be experienced enough in the kitchen that I can tell better by the recipe whether it will turn out well, play around with different recipes and have them turn out, and try new recipes for the first time without any disasters occurring (usually).

I love finding recipes, I love making dinners that go together and then sitting down together to eat them. I love making something and having it turn out Pinterest-perfect. I love having people over and making food for them. There's something about it. It's almost like an art, where you create something new, and I absolutely love it.