Sins and Sinners

I've hesitated writing on this topic for a long time, because no matter when I write it, I'm afraid it will look like it's directed at someone in my life. So let me just preface this by saying: this is directed at no one in particular. It's just something I've seen a lot, all over, in myself and in others, and it's something I wanted to address. 

A few years ago, I had been in a big fight with one of my best friends about the boy she was going to marry. We ended up not talking for 2 years. At the same time, I also had a family member I hadn't talked to for years, as well as other friends who I hadn't just fallen out of touch with, but who I purposefully chose to cut out of my life for one reason or another. 

Finally one day it hit me: I had all these people in my life that I was afraid to bump into, that caused me anxiety and stress to worry about hanging onto my anger. I was certainly not faultless in any of the situations, no matter how justified I felt in my anger. It was exhausting.

It seems like the older I get, the harder the situations become. Where silly spats used to cause temporary rifts between friends, I am now dealing with friends going through bitter divorces, angry fights and situations where one or both parties have definitely been wronged. And even when I am not the person directly involved, I find it very hard to just let go of my anger.

I am very quick to jump to conclusions and choose sides. Caleb, who doesn't have any of those tendencies and couldn't if he tried, has helped me a lot in this regard.

But the thing that has hit me the most lately is realizing that we are not our sins. 

We are all going to make mistakes. You will never find a friend or spouse who doesn't upset you sometimes, or hurt your feelings, or even occasionally upset you so much that you want to cut off all ties and never speak to them again.

But it's rarely ever worth it. Because despite how severe we may deem the sin, it is not ever impossible to overcome. Christ taught, "And unto him that smiteth thee on the one cheek offer also the other; and him that taketh away thy cloak forbid not to take thy coat also" (Luke 6:29)

I have always struggled with that scripture. Shouldn't I be able to cut people out of my life who have hurt me? Isn't there something to be said for protecting myself against future harm?

But I think I understand that scripture better now. It shows us how much Christ believes in each one of us to be able to change. He knows that those we love will often hurt us more than our enemies ever could. He knows that we will probably hurt those we love in return.

But he also knows that he provided us all a way to return to our Father in Heaven completely clean. He didn't just do that for those with the minor, no-big-deal sins. The atonement is for each and every one of us. 

I don't say this to judge anyone's choices. There are definitely abusive relationships which should be left behind and forgotten.

But for the most part, I think we all need to remember that we are not our biggest sins. Sometimes we have to swallow our pride and let time heal us, and somehow come to separate the sin from the sinner. Because people aren't replaceable. Because when it comes to our marriages especially, I believe we have to fight. These days marriage isn't looked at as something that will last forever, but it should be. That is how we should always think of it, and only in the most dire circumstances should we even consider letting go. Because those we love are worth fighting for. Because we come out of those trials with stronger relationships and determination to be better, to do better. 

But mostly, because if today you are the one being hurt by another's actions, tomorrow you will likely be the one hurting someone else. And I hope that when I am on that end, my family and friends will still be there, willing to forgive, willing to believe that I can change, and that I am worth loving again.

And They Still Bring It Up

Most of you know, because of my hardened self-esteem and ability to take a beating, that I grew up with 3 older brothers. I could tell a lot of stories about those years. Being pinned down and forced to eat sour candies that I hated. The time they let me eat that silica powder pack with my frozen pretzel that specifically says "do not eat". (I couldn't read, and it looked like a powdery topping. When my mom figured it out she lost it and called poison control and I thought I was dying.) All of my dolls being bald because Cody would rip out their hair to torment me.

When you hear this next story, please bear in mind the years of psychological torment that led to this moment. 

I was five. We had just pulled into camp in Oregon where we were staying for a family reunion. It had been a long road trip, and it was starting to get late. As my dad started to park the trailer, I complained that I had to go to the bathroom. Since the trailer wasn't set up yet, my mom told my brothers to walk me over to the public bathrooms across the campsite. 

When we got there, there was a sign on the door for Women, only it looked like this. 

Now, to me, it is still pretty obvious that this woman, while also bald, handless, and all around unfortunately-shaped, also only had one leg.

As my brothers tried to convince me to go inside, I told them nice try, but I was smart enough to know that this was a handicapped bathroom.

They got a good laugh out of it at first. Ha ha, our little sister is so dumb, now go to the bathroom.

But after a few minutes, it wasn't so funny. I mean, I was only five, and I really had to go. This was no time for their mean pranks. But I also couldn't understand why the handicapped women's restroom was right next to the men's room, with no regular restroom in sight.

Luckily, after what felt like an eternity of my brothers trying to convince me that the bathroom wasn't handicapped, my mom came over to figure out what was going on. She, of course, laughed too and then had to escort me into the bathroom, where I was still sure a cop would burst in at any moment and arrest us. 

And now, the point:

Lately, I see a lot of people posting pictures and stories about their kids that may seem cute or funny to us, but are generally really embarrassing for the kid. Granted, I post a lot of pictures of my kid. Like, a lot. But I try to keep in mind what he might not appreciate being posted all over the World Wide Web twenty years from now.  

Not only that, but it's mortifying for them now. Kids aren't just emotionless little robots. They understand and remember a lot younger and a lot more than we give them credit for. Just because they are little doesn't mean they don't deserve basic human respect, especially from their parents. 

All I can do is be grateful there was no one around to film me that day while I stood there doing the pee-pee dance and crying about my lack of bathroom accommodations. Id prefer to blog about them myself twenty years later, thanks!

I am not broken

A few weeks after I found out I was pregnant, I woke up in the middle of the night in a panic and remember thinking, "There is a human growing inside me, and it has to come out at some point." Honestly, the thought completely terrified me. Everything I've ever seen about birth portrayed it as the most painful thing a person can experience. It was horrible counting down the days to what I was sure was going to be a horrific event.

But at the same time, that knowledge kind of went against common sense for me. Why would birth be so terrible for us, yet not so for animals? Why would anyone in their right mind have more than one child after going through trauma like that? And WHY would anyone ever go without an epidural?

Luckily, the mother of the cute little girl I nanny had her natural and we talked about her birth experience a lot. I remember her telling me she had a friend who got an epidural and right before she had to push she was just sitting on her phone on Facebook, and that wasn't what she thought birth should be like. At first when I heard that, I thought, "That sounds great! Sign me up for that birth!"

But, being the person that I am, I decided to research it to death. I am so glad that I did, because by the time I went into labor I had no fear of birth, and was actually really excited about it. Even after having the somewhat traumatic birth experience that I had (two weeks post date, 28 hours of labor, 2 hours of pushing and finally a forcep delivery of my almost 10 lb child) I still have good, calm feelings about Dayens birth & I am actually excited to have more kids! (Go figure.)

But now that Dayen is all good & born, I have this head full of knowledge that is of no use to me until I have another child. And what's worse is having to deal with the amount of people who tell me, "Well just make SURE you don't go past your due date next time!" Or "I can't believe your doctor let you go that far past!" Because I have a huge rant built up in my head, but I don't get to say any of it or I sound completely crazy.

So, here comes the rant & the crazy!

First and foremost... You are NOT broken because you go past your due date. Calling it your "due date" definitely makes it feel like if the baby is not here by that date, something is wrong. I was surprised what an emotional blow it was to me when I didn't have him early, let alone "on time". It was a really disappointing and frustrating couple of weeks, and I wish I'd had less people texting me saying, "he's STILL not here?" and more people reminding me that all babies were born eventually! 

The truth that I didn't know at the time is that MOST first time moms, if left without any interventions, actually go to 41 weeks+ 5 days, which is exactly when I had Dayen. If I had known that, I could have relaxed a little more there at the end.

Usually when I explain that, people like to remind me that going past my due date was probably the reason I had such a huge baby. BUT, Dayen was 9 lbs 6 oz at birth, and over 11 lbs at his 2 week appointment. He has consistently been in the top 97th percentile for his height and weight. 

Yes, him being a bigger baby definitely made birth harder. But I really believe our bodies don't make babies that we can't birth. Dayen was posterior (meaning face up- picture trying to put a tshirt on a toddler from their forehead rather than the back of their head... It works, but takes a lot more effort!) and he had the cord wrapped around his neck so getting him to turn was difficult. I'm very grateful for modern medicine and for the OB who came to use the forceps, but I do believe I could have had him on my own.

Finally, everyone keeps telling me to just get induced next time. And I have to admit, that was a pretty appealing option. I like to have a plan, and it would have been great to know an exact date my baby would be here so everyone could plan on it. But, the truth is that induction makes you 50% more likely to have a csection. We already live in a csection happy country, where nearly 33% of births are now csections, usually not because of medical emergencies but just because birth can take awhile, and it's easier for doctors if they can schedule an exact time for delivery. Don't get me wrong, csections have their place. We are lucky to live in a world where babies and mothers can be saved in emergencies because of csections. But it is definitely not ideal! You don't want to be recovering from a major abdominal surgery while also being sleep deprived and trying to take care of a newborn. It's also very hard to find a doctor who will let you attempt a vbac (vaginal birth after cesarean) so usually once you have a csection, that's how the rest of your births will go too.

The comedian Jim Gaffigan has an awesome commentary on natural birth. His wife had all 5 of their children at home with a midwife. My favorite is when he says "the reaction we usually get is, 'oh we were going to do that too, but we wanted our baby to live!'" It really is crazy to me how many people thought I was completely insane for using a midwife instead of an OB, even though I gave birth in a hospital. I think the term "midwife" gives the image of a woman in a shawl covered with cats & moons who chants over your belly to make sure the baby will be born with 10 fingers and toes. And, there probably are midwives like that. But for me, having a midwife meant that I had support there with me the entire time. I didn't have to "wait to push" until a doctor got there, I didn't have to be checked constantly to make sure the doctor could be there on time. And again, I'm so glad I had a relationship with a great OB who was at home watching Dayens heart rate drop and was awake ready to come in at 2:45 am when they called him. But I can't imagine what that experience would have been like without my midwife! And she still texts me wanting updated pictures or just to say Hi. Show me an OB who will do that.

Ultimately, I realize every birth experience is different. But the fact is, you have a right to choose what your birth will look like. It doesn't have to be where you just walk in and get directed by doctors how to have your baby. You aren't sick, you aren't dying. You are doing what your body was built to do. 

Hopefully, this will stop me from going off on a rant to the next person who tells me I better induce next time. 😁

Still,Still,Still

I remember when I was nine I would babysit my cousin a lot. They lived in a big house with lots of doors and windows, and sometimes when it got dark I would get scared that someone would try to break in or something. I think my nine year old brain realized if there was any danger, I was in charge, and I wasn't really ready to handle that. But it all kind of seemed like a fun game, and of course I didn't really realize things that could actually happen, but I still felt the anxiety from it all.

After one of these nights babysitting, I went home feeling really stressed. I remember crying to my mom that I had a horrible feeling, and I thought something bad was going to happen to someone in my family. I was so worked up that she called all my brothers and had me talk to them so I could see that they were ok. But I still had this horrible feeling that I couldn't shake, and I thought I was psychic or something.

But, nothing ever did happen, and what I didn't realize was that I wasn't clairvoyant, I was just having my first anxiety attack.

I think anxiety is something that is very common in a lot of our lives today. I know a lot of my family has it to some degree, and my oldest brother was even diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. It's something I never really talk about, something I don't really even think about until it decides to rear it's ugly head and remind me that I'm not as in control as I like to pretend to be.

I think it's important to talk about because it is so common, but it's something we all ignore and pretend doesn't happen. I certainly don't like to mention in conversation that anxiety can bring me to a deep, dark place that I feel like I'll never escape from. It is horrible feeling like you can fall into that at any time for no reason at all.

My anxiety peaked in High School. I can remember sitting in class one morning when I felt the weight of it hit me like a ton of bricks. Nothing happened to trigger it, but suddenly it was as if an elephant was sitting on my chest. I felt like I couldn't get any air. I went home in a panic and once again bawled to my mom that something was wrong, that I didn't know how or why but I just knew something bad was going to happen.

Anxiety is scary. It's unpredictable and powerful. It can hit you out of nowhere and stay with you for as long as it chooses.

I try to "live in the light", read my scriptures and surround myself with people who make me happy and keep me calm. Caleb has been incredible for this for me. My anxiety has gotten a lot better since we got married, but I was always terrified that pregnancy and being a new mom would bring in the perfect storm of hormones to cause the worst anxiety of my life.

Luckily for me, having Dayen has actually helped me a lot. I think I just know that I don't have time to waste on feeling that way, because I have him to take care of. That's not to say motherhood doesn't bring on anxiety of it's own.

I don't claim to be an expert, but it's always surprised me how quiet we are about things like this, and I always felt frustrated that I couldn't find any answers on things that actually help when you are in the moment of an attack like that. The only thing I've really found is working through them, waiting them out and talking or crying or whatever you have to do to feel better. But I am fully aware that my anxiety can't be nearly as bad as some people's, and I can't imagine what that must be like. How do you even cope? I can't imagine feeling that way all day, every day.

Because it's not just typical anxiety, "oh I hope this works out." It is truly crippling. It is a deep, dark hole that sucks all the happiness out of you. You can't remember what it's like to feel happy and normal, and you feel like you never will again.

I feel like such a drama queen writing about this, and maybe that's why no one talks about it. Maybe no one wants to sound crazy or weird. But I've found that the times I've opened up about it, I'm usually not alone. I think nearly everyone has experienced it to some degree, and many have what could probably be classified as a disorder, whether they realize it or not.

For me, it's always so random. The things you would think would bring on the worst anxiety generally don't. When my brother was in a bad car accident and we weren't sure he was going to live, I don't remember having a single anxiety attack. When I suddenly realize I've washed the same dish 400 times and it's only going to get dirty again, suddenly full blown anxiety attack.

I personally believe it has a lot to do with the world we live in. Anxiety generally comes from feeling unsafe, or like you're not grounded in some way, and we have so many challenges to face every day and we have so many things bombarding us all the time, we forget to just stop for a second and be at peace. I can't remember the last time I sat down and didn't immediately pull out my phone or turn on the TV or find something to distract me. I think eventually it all builds up until the straw breaks the camels back and we are crying for two hours over dirty dishes.

I wish I had a miracle cure. I wish I could list "10 easy steps for curing your anxiety!" I don't. I am not much wiser than I was at nine, because every time I feel that constricting in my chest, that shortness of breath, a part of me still thinks, Something bad is going to happen.

But I do know that there are many places we can turn for peace. And I think anxiety isn't something you fix as it's happening, but something you try to avoid with preventative maintenance. Take a second to take a breath and just be. Be at peace. Be still. Be grateful for what you have and who you are. 

In my darkest moments, I may still have suspicions that I am psychic, but at least I can take comfort in the fact that I haven't been right yet.

https://www.lds.org/ensign/2014/10/upon-the-top-of-the-waters?lang=eng

Part Time Parenthood

My day usually starts off, if not at 3:00 or 4:00 am, then at least by 7:00 to the sound of my baby screaming from his crib like he's withering away and never been fed before.

I don't even really think about it anymore. I don't lay there and wish he'd go back to sleep, or put my pillow over my head to drown out the noise. I just get up and get him. Sometimes I'm halfway to his room before I even realize I'm awake.
I didn't use to be a morning person. But it's hard not to be when one of the first things you see is the cute face of your child smiling at you.

I really do love it. Not in a grin & bear it, we'll get through these tough years kind of way. In a wow, I didn't realize how much I'd love this kid kind of way. In a "does everyone think my kid is as cute as I do?" kind of way. In a I will read you bedtime stories every night even though I seriously doubt you understand a word and would rather eat the books than read them, kind of way.
But lately, I feel like all I see are articles about how tough parenthood is. About how you need to take time for you, about how you should try to enjoy parenthood, but you probably won't, so get a sitter and go out and find yourself. About how being a mother doesn't define you, and you are still in there somewhere.

And the thing is, I have a huge problem with that. Because I don't view motherhood as this break from "finding myself", or as a huge distraction from my "me time". I don't feel the incessant need to leave him at his grandparents so I can go away for the weekend just to get away from him. It frustrates me that the world wants me to almost be ashamed of being a mother. It shouldn't be the only thing I ever accomplish. It just isn't enough to only be a mother.
Is being a mom hard? Sure. There have been days I've had to set him in his crib and let him cry while I went outside and did the same. There have been moments of frustration that I felt I couldn't escape from. And I definitely don't spend nearly as much time writing, or doing photography, or any of the other things I used to love.

But I don't feel like I've lost myself. On the contrary, I think that motherhood has made me more me than I ever was before. It has brought out the best in me in every way.

A few months ago I saw someone post an article about how much mothers complain about motherhood. They said, "if you want me to have a baby so bad, then stop telling me how much I'm going to hate being a mom!" I completely agree. Of course there will be challenges, but why do we tell parents to prepare for the worst? For every person who was excited for me during my pregnancy, there were five more people telling me how much sleep I'd lose, how insane I'd feel, and to give them a call when I had just reached my wits end and needed a break.

I concede: I only have one child, and he is a pretty awesome one. But this whole parenthood thing has been so much better than I ever could have imagined. It's not all sleepless nights and dirty diapers and wanting to pull your hair out in frustration.

It's a little laugh that is truly the best sound you've ever heard. It's sharing this little person you both love so much with your spouse, and strengthening your marriage through them. It's knowing them so well, being so in tune with your child, that you almost always know what they want or need. It's leaving them with a babysitter, and missing them every second that you're gone. 
It's ok to have other goals and dreams. 
But it's also ok if raising this child is the best thing you've ever done.
It's ok if the biggest thing you ever accomplish is raising your child to be a strong and happy person. 
It's ok if the moment you hold your child for the first time, everything else falls away, and all those dreams you used to have don't seem quite so important anymore.
A lot of the world doesn't agree with me. They will tell you that you need a degree, a career, a large house and new cars, endless money and fancy vacations and all the things that would be ruined by sticky little hands and the years it takes to raise a baby.

But I am here to tell you that it is ok. It is ok to want those things. It's ok if the happiest you've ever felt isn't from making a six figure income, but from getting a hug from that tiny human you put your heart and soul into. 
Don't be afraid of parenthood. You won't lose yourself. You will still be there, and you may be surprised to find out who you thought you were isn't who you are at all. 

I generally find it in my best interest not to get involved in the "social media controversies" that seem to be more and more prevalent these days. But, boy oh boy was the Internet blowing up today over this one.
I have seen a lot of people who have always been openly against the church taking the opportunity to shout from the rooftops what hypocrites we are. That, I'm used to. What really surprised me is the amount of members who seem to be struggling with this news. To that, I say: search, ponder, and pray. One of the things I love most about this gospel is that we are not taught to just blindly follow. It's ok to have doubts and questions: find out the answers. And especially, wait for the church's official statement, which is undoubtedly coming. Don't trust news sources to tell you what you believe.
But for me, I have to say this didn't come as any surprise. It has never been a secret that the church does not support gay marriage. That has been a struggle for many, especially in the past few years. But for the members who, only months ago, changed their temple profile pictures to be rainbows, I ask: did you really not see this coming?
All the people who shouted that gay marriage should be legalized are now saying, "but the children should not be held responsible for their parents choices!" Isn't that the point? Isn't that what we were fighting to protect them from in the first place?
The repercussions of gay marriage reach far beyond just supporting or not supporting two people in their love lives. Children become involved, and it is my belief that "Marriage between man and woman is essential to His eternal plan. Children are entitled to birth within the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother who honor marital vows with complete fidelity. Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ." (The Family Proclamation) To those who didn't understand why the church didn't support gay marriage in the first place, this is why. Because of the far reaching affects.
But, it's done. It's legal, and this is where we are today.
But as a member of the church, I am still not surprised about the recent announcement. Why?
Because my dad doesn't agree with the teachings of the church, and knowing that I was interested, he asked me to wait until I was 18 before getting baptized. So, I did. Simple as that. Because I love and respect him. Even if I had decided to secretly join the church behind his back, they wouldn't have let me. This policy isn't new, it's just a hot topic today because of where we are in the world. And I agree with it and support it wholeheartedly.
It is not about exclusion. As always, even when it's something we didn't agree with in the first place, it's about the family. It's about avoiding putting the children at odds with the parents. 
This doctrine is hard. How can we ask children to go to church, make covenants and learn doctrine, and then go home and hear the opposite? Does it really seem prudent to teach an 8 year old that we believe their parents marriage is wrong?
In my mind, it makes perfect sense that those children should not have to bear that burden so young. They are still welcome in church. They are even welcome to be baptized under the right circumstances. But if you are a member, don't let this shake your faith. And if you aren't, I say what I have been hearing for years now: it doesn't affect you. Move on. 

Your Inactive Neighbor

It's been awhile since I've written anything! I feel like my mind these days is a big jumble of, "When did I feed Dayen last?" "Is he ready for a nap?" and "Oh good, this shirt made it five whole minutes spit-up free!"
But this is something that has been on my mind a lot lately. Last month I gave a talk in church about how we need to treat each other better and be more welcoming, and this sort of goes hand in hand with that. It always has something to do with how we treat each other. But I want to talk more about church activity.
The thing is, we know our church isn't easy. I certainly didn't join the church because it was the simplest church out there with the shortest meetings. Our faith requires a lot of us. It's all worth it, but it's difficult, and sometimes nearly impossible, to do all that is asked of us.
About a year ago our wards had just split and I had a new calling in the Young Womens. I was also in my first trimester of pregnancy and I was sick all the time. We had 9:00 church and when I think back on those early meetings, my stomach still turns. It was rough. I missed a lot, I called substitutes a lot, I went to five minutes of class before rushing home a lot. I always felt bad, like everyone secretly thought I was trying to get away with doing as little amount of work as possible.
Since then, I've noticed there isn't a lot of forgiveness or understanding for inactivity in the church.
Now, I get it. We all have our agency. Ultimately, the choice to come or not come to church is up to you.
But in my experience, it is almost never a simple, black and white decision to just suddenly stop coming. It is usually complicated and personal. Because let's just say it: it is HARD sometimes. Sometimes the difficulties seem to outweigh the good that comes from it. Sometimes you work late on Saturdays and can't imagine dragging yourself out of bed for early church. Sometimes we get offended or upset. For me, the struggle lately has been having a 4 month old at church. He won't nap anywhere but in his own bed, and he still eats often enough that it's impossible not to have to feed him at some point during that 3 hour block. Sometimes dragging him to church feels like unnecessary torture for everyone involved.
It is not up to anyone in my ward to save me from jumping off that cliff, from saying to heck with it, I am never going back. BUT, sometimes it feels like all it would take is one tiny nudge to send me flying over the edge.
So what about those people in your ward who are in that position? Those who rarely come to church, or who used to, but haven't been back in years?
We focus so much on bringing in new converts, but what about the lost sheep who have fallen away?
I know it's not always in our power to do anything. But I can say that what makes a huge difference to me is knowing that I am missed. So try that. We don't have to hound them every second, but wouldn't you be more excited about going to church on Sunday if you knew you'd have someone to sit by? Wouldn't you feel more apt to go if you knew that certain sister in the ward was going to text you afterwards if you didn't show, just to see if you are ok?
I can promise you that whatever their reason is for not coming, whether it seems legitimate to you or not, they do have one. There is not a Sunday that goes by that they don't think about where they know they should be that day. Most of them long to go back, and tell themselves one day they will.
And isn't that really what it means to go and be the Lord's missionaries? Here in Utah, at least? Here, where just about everyone has heard of the church? Here, where Satan picks at our weaknesses little by little until he can break us?
It is hard. It is so hard sometimes to drag myself and my family out the door to make it to church. But it is always, always worth it. This gospel means so much to me, and to many who are in it. So rather than judging those who no longer come to church, why not find out why they stopped in the first place? Why not be the helping hand that guides them back? Imagine the blessings for everyone involved if we could all do that.