Why do I have to love so many people? Why do they all have to be so spread apart and all in different parts of the world?
I'm homesick for Utah.
I know, I know...the grass is always greener. And honestly, I would NOT be doing well in Utah. I don't know how I would even be functioning. Being here has been the biggest blessing of all time. I have so much support and love here from family and friends and I just can't imagine raising this boy without all of this help. So I'm not saying I wish I had stayed there, but I do wish I could pick up and take a week long trip there.
I miss everyone there so much.
I miss Sarah and Marie and Jana. I didn't get to play with them as often as I should have, but being there briefly was long enough to make me realize how much I love them and I LOVE hanging out with them. I cherish the times we had together. They threw me a 21st birthday party seven days after I'd gotten to Provo and didn't know anyone or have anything to do that day. Jana's birthday is the day after mine, so she threw us a combined party. How amazing is it that she was willing to share that day with me? I just love those girls. All three of them. There are few people in this world who can make me laugh so hard my abs hurt, but almost every time we play, I leave feeling like I've had a good work-out. I love their taste in music and movies and books. I love how Sarah laughs. I love how Marie tells stories. I love how Jana throws parties. I love how they all kind of took me under their wing while I was transitioning from here to there. And I miss them.
I miss Kyla. She's sort of a soul sister of mine. Our friendship was some sort of weird destiny. It had to be. She's one of those people in my life that I KNOW was put there for a reason. Our meeting was just so beautifully bizarre. I love that girl. She is one of the kindest, most giving people you will ever know. You have to consider yourself blessed to have that girl in your life. My heart literally breaks for missing her so badly. =(
I miss Shem's family. I can't even name them all individually because there are just so many that I miss. But I do. I miss them. I miss driving down to Bountiful on Sundays and visiting with them.
I miss Jake and Shana. I'm sad we haven't met their newest little girl and they haven't been able to meet Luke.
I miss BYU. I miss being a Cougar. I miss that life that I almost had. I miss the mountains and the fall weather.
I miss my roommates; Melissa, Camille and Siara. I miss our late-night talks.
I miss Raintree. I miss hanging out until all hours of the night and being silly with strangers who come over to our apartment just because they want to be social.
I miss that life.
Don't get me wrong...I am SO happy. So, so happy with my life. I am head-over-heels in love with my husband. I am absolutely smitten with Luke. I love where we are. But every once in a while, my heart aches for that life we almost had. The one where we finished school in Utah. Shem at UVU and me at BYU. The one where we had a little more money and a little more time to be just us.
And then I see my little boy...my perfect little boy who I know is supposed to be here now and is my pride and joy....and I feel awful for missing that life. I feel so guilty for having this little part of me that wonders what it would have been like if our plans had turned out the way we hoped they would.
I just need to remind myself that this is my truth. This is my life. This is my son. And I wouldn't trade him for anything in the world. And I wouldn't trade where I am and being around the family and friends that I have. I am so grateful for them. I am so grateful for this place and these people. These are the people who made my heart ache when I was in Provo. I missed them so much. And see...this is why sometimes I hate loving so much. Why does it always have to hurt?
I guess it's not the loving that I hate. It's the missing that I hate. It's the miles that separate us that I hate.
So, I have a plan. Everyone that I love needs to agree upon a location and just move there. Capiche?
What a blessing to love so many people so much that I wish I could split myself into a million pieces and be with everyone all the time. It really is a wonder that our hearts can get so big.
So. I'll take suggestions for locations. Ready? Go.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
2 Weeks and a Certain Amount of Post-Partum Weight-Loss Later....
Things I love about not being pregnant any more:
1. Having this baby in my arms.
Yeah. This is pretty much the best part of it. He's my favorite new thing. I'm still twitter-pated. I am obsessed. I'm obsessed with singing to him and talking to him and making him dance the Macarena (because I'm the coolest mom ever) and taking pictures of him and giving him so many kisses that he spits up just to get a break from all the lovin' and telling him how beautiful he is and letting him hold my pinky and nursing him and all that jazz.
2. Losing weight like a mad, mad fiend.
Never in my life have I dropped poundage this rapidly. It's the bees knees. All I've done is cut out sugar and it's like, 'WHABAM!' Yup. Whabam.
3. No more swelling.
I enjoy being un-puffy.
4. BENDING!
You just can't understand the joy of picking things up until you haven't been able to for a good several months.
5. Getting out and wearing some of my favorite 'not pregnant people' outfits.
It was like Christmas going through that box. Oh the outfits!
6. Being able to eat a normal amount of food and not hungering for more after feasting ravenously.
I love feeling full!
Okay, that's it for my list. Here's how the first two weeks went:
DAY ONE
Ouch. Ouch, ouch, ouch. Couldn't move. Couldn't sleep. Much anxiety about my brand-new, very tiny baby child whom I loved more than I could stand. He was terrifying. It is absolutely THE most unnerving thing to love something so vulnerable. His fragility plus lack of sleep equaled a certain amount of insanity. Also, my hatred of hospitals began during the first day of his life.
DAY TWO
Ouch. Pain continued. Worsened slightly. I struggled to get out of bed and was bleeding more than I felt was reasonable. This was a dark day. A dark, dark day. They wouldn't release us after the fist 24 hours (thanks to the crummy hospital pediatrician that I can't even talk about lest I start crying. We hated him. All three of us.) so we were stuck in that same room again and I'd gotten no sleep because hospitals don't let you sleep. Apparently they think that it's okay for brand-new families to be disturbed every hour on the hour. Day two was marked by many tears and the beginning of my insanity.
DAY THREE
Finally we were released and home. But I was still losing my mind due to lack of sleep. Bouts of crying fits continued. Nightly. I would just dissolve into hysteric tears. I had anxiety attacks about my baby dying and other such irrational calamities like Shem getting into a horrific car accident and being hospitalized or dead. It was bad. Bad. Also, there was much pain.
DAY FOUR
I reached my limit this day. I was either sobbing or choking back tears from the moment we got up. The baby had nights and days completely mixed up and I hadn't gotten more than 2 or 3 hours of sleep since labor had started five days previously. That night, I asked my dad to refer me to a therapist. I was convinced that I was literally losing my mind. To my dad's credit, he didn't laugh. He just explained that I was suffering from sleep deprivation and that the cure was simple: I needed sleep. So, I went home and did what? Oh yeah, dissolved into torrents of sobs and told Shem that I thought I was losing my marbles. He is amazing! Have I ever told you guys that?? My husband is amazing. He gave me one of the sweetest blessings I've ever, ever gotten. That night, for the first time since going into labor, I slept for long enough to regain some of my sanity.
DAY FIVE
Day five was excellent because of the sleep I'd gotten the night before. This was the first time since he was born that I was really able to enjoy my little boy. My anxiety about him disappeared and I was becoming more accustomed to the new tasks I had and was loving loving him. But that night was a rough one and I hadn't gotten enough sleep in that one night to make it okay that I was up with him all night.
DAY SIX
Another rough day in which I thought I was on the fast track to crazy town. That night, a miracle occurred. My wonderful cousin, Shannon, who has a 2-year old little boy, brought me some things of hers that literally changed out lives. She brought a swing and a breast pump. She brought a great many other things as well, but those are the two things we'll focus on because they are largely the reason that I sit here today...alive. First of all, I started pumping and Shem agreed to give him a bottle at some point in the night. Second of all, Luke LOVES that swing. Loves it. He sleeps in it. Soundly. So this was another night in which I was able to sleep. And THEN my husband showed the world once again what a gallant, sexy, wonderful, amazing man he is by creating a schedule that goes thusly: He takes the first half of the night armed with a bottle and patience and stays up with our little boy until around 1:30 or 2:00. He feeds him and then puts him down at which point Luke then usually (usually) sleeps for another 2 or 3 hours and I wake up around 3:30 or 4:00 (sometimes even as late as 5:00) and am usually up with him for the rest of the night unless he goes back to sleep after I feed him in which case, he likes to sleep in. SO. Starting this night (with only a few exceptions) I have gotten anywhere from 5-8 hours of sleep. AAAAAmazing. Seriously. I feel SO much better these days. And granted, my sleep is usually interrupted and spacey and isn't always the deepest sleep, but compared to the fog I was in the few days after giving birth, this is NOTHING. I am so blessed.
The following few days have been very enjoyable for the most part. We've had our ups and downs and occasional gassy nights, but on those days, I've got a wonderful mother and sisters who watch him while I take naps. We also have amazing people in our ward who have brought us meals and have checked up on us. We've been so blessed. And life is so good. Thank you all for your prayers and help and well-wishes. We are doing VERY well. =)
1. Having this baby in my arms.
Yeah. This is pretty much the best part of it. He's my favorite new thing. I'm still twitter-pated. I am obsessed. I'm obsessed with singing to him and talking to him and making him dance the Macarena (because I'm the coolest mom ever) and taking pictures of him and giving him so many kisses that he spits up just to get a break from all the lovin' and telling him how beautiful he is and letting him hold my pinky and nursing him and all that jazz.
2. Losing weight like a mad, mad fiend.
Never in my life have I dropped poundage this rapidly. It's the bees knees. All I've done is cut out sugar and it's like, 'WHABAM!' Yup. Whabam.
3. No more swelling.
I enjoy being un-puffy.
4. BENDING!
You just can't understand the joy of picking things up until you haven't been able to for a good several months.
5. Getting out and wearing some of my favorite 'not pregnant people' outfits.
It was like Christmas going through that box. Oh the outfits!
6. Being able to eat a normal amount of food and not hungering for more after feasting ravenously.
I love feeling full!
Okay, that's it for my list. Here's how the first two weeks went:
DAY ONE
Ouch. Ouch, ouch, ouch. Couldn't move. Couldn't sleep. Much anxiety about my brand-new, very tiny baby child whom I loved more than I could stand. He was terrifying. It is absolutely THE most unnerving thing to love something so vulnerable. His fragility plus lack of sleep equaled a certain amount of insanity. Also, my hatred of hospitals began during the first day of his life.
DAY TWO
Ouch. Pain continued. Worsened slightly. I struggled to get out of bed and was bleeding more than I felt was reasonable. This was a dark day. A dark, dark day. They wouldn't release us after the fist 24 hours (thanks to the crummy hospital pediatrician that I can't even talk about lest I start crying. We hated him. All three of us.) so we were stuck in that same room again and I'd gotten no sleep because hospitals don't let you sleep. Apparently they think that it's okay for brand-new families to be disturbed every hour on the hour. Day two was marked by many tears and the beginning of my insanity.
DAY THREE
Finally we were released and home. But I was still losing my mind due to lack of sleep. Bouts of crying fits continued. Nightly. I would just dissolve into hysteric tears. I had anxiety attacks about my baby dying and other such irrational calamities like Shem getting into a horrific car accident and being hospitalized or dead. It was bad. Bad. Also, there was much pain.
DAY FOUR
I reached my limit this day. I was either sobbing or choking back tears from the moment we got up. The baby had nights and days completely mixed up and I hadn't gotten more than 2 or 3 hours of sleep since labor had started five days previously. That night, I asked my dad to refer me to a therapist. I was convinced that I was literally losing my mind. To my dad's credit, he didn't laugh. He just explained that I was suffering from sleep deprivation and that the cure was simple: I needed sleep. So, I went home and did what? Oh yeah, dissolved into torrents of sobs and told Shem that I thought I was losing my marbles. He is amazing! Have I ever told you guys that?? My husband is amazing. He gave me one of the sweetest blessings I've ever, ever gotten. That night, for the first time since going into labor, I slept for long enough to regain some of my sanity.
DAY FIVE
Day five was excellent because of the sleep I'd gotten the night before. This was the first time since he was born that I was really able to enjoy my little boy. My anxiety about him disappeared and I was becoming more accustomed to the new tasks I had and was loving loving him. But that night was a rough one and I hadn't gotten enough sleep in that one night to make it okay that I was up with him all night.
DAY SIX
Another rough day in which I thought I was on the fast track to crazy town. That night, a miracle occurred. My wonderful cousin, Shannon, who has a 2-year old little boy, brought me some things of hers that literally changed out lives. She brought a swing and a breast pump. She brought a great many other things as well, but those are the two things we'll focus on because they are largely the reason that I sit here today...alive. First of all, I started pumping and Shem agreed to give him a bottle at some point in the night. Second of all, Luke LOVES that swing. Loves it. He sleeps in it. Soundly. So this was another night in which I was able to sleep. And THEN my husband showed the world once again what a gallant, sexy, wonderful, amazing man he is by creating a schedule that goes thusly: He takes the first half of the night armed with a bottle and patience and stays up with our little boy until around 1:30 or 2:00. He feeds him and then puts him down at which point Luke then usually (usually) sleeps for another 2 or 3 hours and I wake up around 3:30 or 4:00 (sometimes even as late as 5:00) and am usually up with him for the rest of the night unless he goes back to sleep after I feed him in which case, he likes to sleep in. SO. Starting this night (with only a few exceptions) I have gotten anywhere from 5-8 hours of sleep. AAAAAmazing. Seriously. I feel SO much better these days. And granted, my sleep is usually interrupted and spacey and isn't always the deepest sleep, but compared to the fog I was in the few days after giving birth, this is NOTHING. I am so blessed.
The following few days have been very enjoyable for the most part. We've had our ups and downs and occasional gassy nights, but on those days, I've got a wonderful mother and sisters who watch him while I take naps. We also have amazing people in our ward who have brought us meals and have checked up on us. We've been so blessed. And life is so good. Thank you all for your prayers and help and well-wishes. We are doing VERY well. =)
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