You cannot avoid the truth. Things are what they are.
At the end of the year, Seth and I moved in with my parents. There, I said it.
I have been extremely embarrassed to admit this fact to anyone. And here's why.
Seth and I have tried to be extremely cautious with our finances while we've been married. With no credit card debt, it was really easy to accomplish that. And we've been very selective of the things we've done. Let me tell you, it has not always been easy. We went without texting for a very long time...in fact, we recently got it a few months ago, so we waited a few years before adding that extra expense to our budget. We went without television, we went without smart phones, electronics, new clothes, furniture, expensive dates...lots of things!
And I don't regret it.
When I was in college, I was an idiot with money. I had 3 credit cards, all of which were pretty much always maxed out, and for dumb things. Sure, I had great clothes, but I had debt collectors calling me constantly, wondering why I wasn't paying them back for all of those fancy clothes. It was a terrifying feeling, seeing those numbers pop up on my phone. So when I moved back home 3 years ago and started working for my dad, the first thing I did with my very first paycheck was get completely out of debt, and it has been my goal ever since to stay out of debt. I really don't want anything to do with credit cards.
And when we were engaged and preparing to get married, we tried again to be as frugal as possible. We found a really cheap, but really great, apartment, perfect size for just the two of us. Seth's cousin had a spare queen sized bed that was not being used and they gave it to us for free, which was wonderful. His grandma had a spare dresser, again free. My parents had a spare kitchen table, free. My grandparents had a spare TV, free. Seth's parents had a spare couch, free.
Why do all these people have spare furniture???
Just kidding, I'm super grateful. We've been extremely blessed since we've been married, and it has allowed us to stay mindful of our spending and to save a little here and there. Somehow, we are able to get the car working again every time we think it's dead. Somehow there is always just enough money (I know that all of this happens because we pay our tithing). However, when we moved to Nacogdoches and I was on bed rest, our great income went down to one little income, and we were so beyond stretched thin. There was literally no way we could survive on what we were making each month. And we had zero extra expenses...it was just the bare necessities. There was nothing to cut back on. That's why we moved back to Gilmer. And yes, our finances did improve and Seth was receiving a bigger paycheck, but we were still struggling. It felt like I could not breathe. I was constantly thinking about the fact that we were just barely getting by, and that our parents were still having to help us quite a bit. And knowing that nursing school was just around the corner and would really suck up Seth's ability to work the hours he currently is made us feel even worse about the situation.
We prayed a lot. I started working from home for my dad when I could, and I also started working for Thrive Life, which has been a fun experience. Seth picked up extra shifts whenever he could, meaning we pretty much never saw each other. It was tough. Then my mom mentioned us moving in.
Before you start thinking that we're all crammed in one little house, sharing bathrooms and taking short showers to conserve hot water, let me tell you that we have got to have the best living situation possible for living with parents. My parents have been richly blessed, and have a very nice 3 level home. They recently completed the lowest level, which is the first level on the ground. We have a living room down there, our own bedroom, Foster's own bedroom, and our own bathroom. We have a separate water heater, and we have privacy. Of course, we do spend most of our time upstairs in the kitchen and great room with the whole family (because it's really fun!).
As we were preparing to move at Christmas time, I felt extremely ashamed, and I avoided telling anyone that we were moving. I kept thinking, "We are 24 years old! This is the prime of our lives! How can we possibly be facing moving in with my parents??" But, I finally realized that we would have to tell our Bishop, and I would need to let the other ladies in the Primary Presidency know so that they could start praying about a new counselor. So, I came clean one Sunday at church. A friend of mine in the ward asked me where we would be living in Diana, and I sheepishly said, "My parents house." And she said,
"Girl, we did the same thing when we were first married!"
I have been blown away by the number of people who have said that they did the same thing, to avoid debt, or to wait for a house to be built, or because someone lost a job. We are not the only people in the world who are living with their parents, or who ever will. Instead of being embarrassed about it, I should be grateful that my parents have lived their lives in such a way that they can help us in our time of need.
So, we won't have to be terrified while Seth is in nursing school this fall. It will all work out! We are avoiding debt, and I'm eternally grateful for that. Foster will get to know his grandparents and his Aunt Madelyn so well while we are here, and that's a blessing. I never lived close to grandparents, and I'm thankful that he can be so close to all 4 of his (and all 7 of his great-grandparents, too!).
I'm not embarrassed to be living with my parents. I'm proud of us for having courage to do something difficult because I know we will be so blessed in the long run. It feels like I can breathe again, and I know this is going to be a really neat experience for us.
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
If Foster Can Do It, So Can I
Monday was a rough day.
Have you ever had a day where it just seemed like everything that could possibly go wrong did? And then things got so bad that you wanted to cry but all you could do was laugh because it just seemed unreal that everything that was happening was happening? Yeah, that was Monday.
On Sunday morning, I woke up to find that we were completely out of formula. I swear there was a can on the shelf when I went to bed Saturday night, but on Sunday, there was nothing. And I can't let Foster starve, so we had to run to the store real quick on our way to church and get some formula. I try to always be as prepared as possible for Foster, so I felt really bummed that I had slipped up so badly. But I tried to not feel too bad about it.
The next day, Monday, started out as normal. We were staying at my parents house for a few days to take care of Peanut while they were with Madelyn's band at the state marching contest (go ND!). Seth left for school early in the morning. Foster had slept through the night, which he has done for the past few weeks. It has been soooo great! He woke up, I gave him his bottle, and about an hour later he was ready for sleep again, and slept for 3 hours. Can I get a hallelujah?! This kid is a champion sleeper/napper. I'm very blessed.
When he woke up from his nap, though, after I gave him another bottle, he started acting a little bit funny. He was just sitting on the rug, just staring. I thought, "Oh dear, he's making a dirty diaper." But then, he barfed. It was a little bit more than spit up, and he looked like it hurt him. I felt so bad, and started to clean him up. And then about 10 minutes later, he barfed again. But this was a big barf. And this happened about 4 more times in the space of an hour. And he would cry and looked like his stomach was hurting him terribly. There was vomit everywhere--all over me, all over him, and all over my mom's house (sorry mom...). So after getting cleaned up and changed, he seemed fine. He started playing with some toys and was laughing, so I thought that maybe his teeth that are starting to come through (finally!!) were hurting him. Maybe his teeth were causing the vomiting.
I then went to change his diaper, only to discover that we were OUT OF DIAPERS. I am a really good mom.
My son wears a size 4, and my mom had some size 3 diapers at her house for my niece Felicity, so I squeezed poor Foster into the size 3 and knew that we had to go to the store and get more diapers.
Then we got in the car to make the trip to Longview. And it was a really rough ride.
It was the day before Seth's birthday, and I had a few things I wanted to get before we celebrated, so I loaded us up and off we went. A ways down the road, Foster sounded like he was choking. I looked back and saw vomit everywhere. Everywhere. I pulled over into the parking lot of a bank, and what a sight. My little boy covered in vomit from head to toe. It was the worst. All over the carseat. In his hair. Just everywhere. I had only brought one burp cloth with me, and no, it did not help. I lifted him out, he was sobbing, and took off his jacket and socks and let him finish barfing. We were there for a good bit. He looked at me like, "Mom, why is this happening??" I felt so bad for him.
When it seemed like he was finally done, I (the wonderfully prepared mother) realized that I did not have a second outfit for him. I also realized that this was not normal, and I didn't think it was from his teeth anymore. So I called my mother-in-law because she is a nurse and she would know what I should do. She suggested going to the doctor. I called Foster's doctor, left a voicemail with the nurse, and waited for a call back.
We stopped at Target on the way to grab a fresh new outfit because my poor baby had the terrible stench of vomit. And of course while we are there, we run into everyone I know and we look like 2 homeless people (and probably smell homeless, too). I grabbed a box of diapers, and out the door we went. While I was struggling to unload our cart (it's difficult because the back of the Jeep does not stay open by itself. You have to hold it up with one arm while you use the other arm to load your stuff). So, I had screaming, vomiting Foster in one arm, the back door of the Jeep resting on my head, and the other arm trying to lift the box of diapers into the trunk. I'm sure it was a sight to everyone who saw.
And then there was a new odor. The odor that every mother knows and dreads. The odor that screams "Code blue! Code blue!"
Dirty diaper time.
I did not want to go back into the store, so I decided that I would just change Foster in the car. So I had to go back to the trunk and open the box of diapers and I changed him in my lap in the car, him screaming, me feeling like a CHAMPION, and got him dressed into his clean clothes. And yes, a car pulled into the space next to me while I did this and the woman looked completely disgusted, but hey, duty calls. Get it? I know, bad joke...
Anyways, then the rain came. Super! Since this trip is going so well, let's add some rain!
I still hadn't heard from his doctor, and I really didn't want to drive back to my mom's house if they might be able to get him in today, so I decided to stay in Longview. Looking at the clock, I realized it was 2:30 and I hadn't eaten since about 7 that morning and I was starving! So I drove through the McDonald's because it was in the same parking lot and I got a quick lunch. I still hadn't heard from the doctor, and I called Seth to see what he thought I should do.
I think a lot of first time mom's can identify with me here on this one. Sometimes, older women will say things like, "Oh, you're totally a first time mom." "You don't know yet, you're a first time mom." I think they have forgotten what it's like to be a first time mom. This was my first experience with my child projectile vomiting multiple times in the space of just a few hours. I didn't know if it was normal with teething, or if I should be concerned. I don't mean to seem like an over protective, worry wart type of mother, but something in my gut said that it might be more than just teething. So Seth and I said a prayer over the phone, and both felt like he should go see the doctor. So I just drove on up there and they were so great and got me right in with his amazing doctor, Dr. Whitney.
She checked him out (Foster screaming all the while) and said that it was most likely a stomach bug--too much vomiting for teething. So we switched him to a Pedialyte diet and went home. On the way home, I was so exhausted and worn out, and it was almost 5:00. (I had left the house at 12...totally not prepared for this long of a day!) So I stopped at McDonald's again and got a little treat...an Oreo McFlurry. I am not ashamed. It was a bad day. And of course, the same 16 year old kid is working the drive thru still and he looked at me like, "Lady, is you addicted to McDonald's?" So I just said, "Yep, it's me again. One of those days." and drove through to get my beautiful McFlurry. It's been a rough day. Sue me.
Upon my return home, I realized that I had only buckled Foster in halfway. What is wrong with me?!
When we got inside, I managed to stub my toe like you wouldn't believe, and it hurt so dang bad, but all I could do was laugh and say, "Of course I stubbed my toe! Today wouldn't be complete if I didn't!" Our first Pedialyte bottle attempt, I poured it all over the counter. I discovered that I was getting a zit on my cheek. I noticed a spot of vomit on my shirt that I hadn't seen earlier, meaning that everywhere I had gone that day, I had had that lovely patch of vomit for all to see.
Seth and his dad gave Foster a blessing that night, and then Seth left for work. I was able to get Foster into bed finally, and then I sat down to do my homework, which was all about terrorism. Wahoo!!
Tuesday morning, we were back to vomiting, and my cell phone and the couch cushion were both covered. Yes. Cell phones, despite what you might think, do not do well with vomit, and as a result, I am having an extremely difficult time hearing people when I talk on the phone. It will be a miracle if my phone makes it through the week.
But by the end of Tuesday, Foster was seeming a little bit happier, and this morning, he finally got to drink some formula again. Happy day!!
I think that all moms (and not just moms, all people) have had days where it just seems like absolutely everything that can go wrong, goes wrong. When I was a kid, I got teased a lot, and I always took it very personally. But my parents would always tell me to laugh it off, and to learn to laugh at myself. I didn't really take their advice until I was older, and I try to apply that every day now. So what if I was covered in vomit and poop on Monday? It's funny looking back now! If Foster can manage to keep laughing and smiling while having a day full of barf, so can I.
Have you ever had a day where it just seemed like everything that could possibly go wrong did? And then things got so bad that you wanted to cry but all you could do was laugh because it just seemed unreal that everything that was happening was happening? Yeah, that was Monday.
On Sunday morning, I woke up to find that we were completely out of formula. I swear there was a can on the shelf when I went to bed Saturday night, but on Sunday, there was nothing. And I can't let Foster starve, so we had to run to the store real quick on our way to church and get some formula. I try to always be as prepared as possible for Foster, so I felt really bummed that I had slipped up so badly. But I tried to not feel too bad about it.
The next day, Monday, started out as normal. We were staying at my parents house for a few days to take care of Peanut while they were with Madelyn's band at the state marching contest (go ND!). Seth left for school early in the morning. Foster had slept through the night, which he has done for the past few weeks. It has been soooo great! He woke up, I gave him his bottle, and about an hour later he was ready for sleep again, and slept for 3 hours. Can I get a hallelujah?! This kid is a champion sleeper/napper. I'm very blessed.
When he woke up from his nap, though, after I gave him another bottle, he started acting a little bit funny. He was just sitting on the rug, just staring. I thought, "Oh dear, he's making a dirty diaper." But then, he barfed. It was a little bit more than spit up, and he looked like it hurt him. I felt so bad, and started to clean him up. And then about 10 minutes later, he barfed again. But this was a big barf. And this happened about 4 more times in the space of an hour. And he would cry and looked like his stomach was hurting him terribly. There was vomit everywhere--all over me, all over him, and all over my mom's house (sorry mom...). So after getting cleaned up and changed, he seemed fine. He started playing with some toys and was laughing, so I thought that maybe his teeth that are starting to come through (finally!!) were hurting him. Maybe his teeth were causing the vomiting.
I then went to change his diaper, only to discover that we were OUT OF DIAPERS. I am a really good mom.
My son wears a size 4, and my mom had some size 3 diapers at her house for my niece Felicity, so I squeezed poor Foster into the size 3 and knew that we had to go to the store and get more diapers.
Then we got in the car to make the trip to Longview. And it was a really rough ride.
It was the day before Seth's birthday, and I had a few things I wanted to get before we celebrated, so I loaded us up and off we went. A ways down the road, Foster sounded like he was choking. I looked back and saw vomit everywhere. Everywhere. I pulled over into the parking lot of a bank, and what a sight. My little boy covered in vomit from head to toe. It was the worst. All over the carseat. In his hair. Just everywhere. I had only brought one burp cloth with me, and no, it did not help. I lifted him out, he was sobbing, and took off his jacket and socks and let him finish barfing. We were there for a good bit. He looked at me like, "Mom, why is this happening??" I felt so bad for him.
When it seemed like he was finally done, I (the wonderfully prepared mother) realized that I did not have a second outfit for him. I also realized that this was not normal, and I didn't think it was from his teeth anymore. So I called my mother-in-law because she is a nurse and she would know what I should do. She suggested going to the doctor. I called Foster's doctor, left a voicemail with the nurse, and waited for a call back.
We stopped at Target on the way to grab a fresh new outfit because my poor baby had the terrible stench of vomit. And of course while we are there, we run into everyone I know and we look like 2 homeless people (and probably smell homeless, too). I grabbed a box of diapers, and out the door we went. While I was struggling to unload our cart (it's difficult because the back of the Jeep does not stay open by itself. You have to hold it up with one arm while you use the other arm to load your stuff). So, I had screaming, vomiting Foster in one arm, the back door of the Jeep resting on my head, and the other arm trying to lift the box of diapers into the trunk. I'm sure it was a sight to everyone who saw.
And then there was a new odor. The odor that every mother knows and dreads. The odor that screams "Code blue! Code blue!"
Dirty diaper time.
I did not want to go back into the store, so I decided that I would just change Foster in the car. So I had to go back to the trunk and open the box of diapers and I changed him in my lap in the car, him screaming, me feeling like a CHAMPION, and got him dressed into his clean clothes. And yes, a car pulled into the space next to me while I did this and the woman looked completely disgusted, but hey, duty calls. Get it? I know, bad joke...
Anyways, then the rain came. Super! Since this trip is going so well, let's add some rain!
I still hadn't heard from his doctor, and I really didn't want to drive back to my mom's house if they might be able to get him in today, so I decided to stay in Longview. Looking at the clock, I realized it was 2:30 and I hadn't eaten since about 7 that morning and I was starving! So I drove through the McDonald's because it was in the same parking lot and I got a quick lunch. I still hadn't heard from the doctor, and I called Seth to see what he thought I should do.
I think a lot of first time mom's can identify with me here on this one. Sometimes, older women will say things like, "Oh, you're totally a first time mom." "You don't know yet, you're a first time mom." I think they have forgotten what it's like to be a first time mom. This was my first experience with my child projectile vomiting multiple times in the space of just a few hours. I didn't know if it was normal with teething, or if I should be concerned. I don't mean to seem like an over protective, worry wart type of mother, but something in my gut said that it might be more than just teething. So Seth and I said a prayer over the phone, and both felt like he should go see the doctor. So I just drove on up there and they were so great and got me right in with his amazing doctor, Dr. Whitney.
She checked him out (Foster screaming all the while) and said that it was most likely a stomach bug--too much vomiting for teething. So we switched him to a Pedialyte diet and went home. On the way home, I was so exhausted and worn out, and it was almost 5:00. (I had left the house at 12...totally not prepared for this long of a day!) So I stopped at McDonald's again and got a little treat...an Oreo McFlurry. I am not ashamed. It was a bad day. And of course, the same 16 year old kid is working the drive thru still and he looked at me like, "Lady, is you addicted to McDonald's?" So I just said, "Yep, it's me again. One of those days." and drove through to get my beautiful McFlurry. It's been a rough day. Sue me.
Upon my return home, I realized that I had only buckled Foster in halfway. What is wrong with me?!
When we got inside, I managed to stub my toe like you wouldn't believe, and it hurt so dang bad, but all I could do was laugh and say, "Of course I stubbed my toe! Today wouldn't be complete if I didn't!" Our first Pedialyte bottle attempt, I poured it all over the counter. I discovered that I was getting a zit on my cheek. I noticed a spot of vomit on my shirt that I hadn't seen earlier, meaning that everywhere I had gone that day, I had had that lovely patch of vomit for all to see.
Seth and his dad gave Foster a blessing that night, and then Seth left for work. I was able to get Foster into bed finally, and then I sat down to do my homework, which was all about terrorism. Wahoo!!
Tuesday morning, we were back to vomiting, and my cell phone and the couch cushion were both covered. Yes. Cell phones, despite what you might think, do not do well with vomit, and as a result, I am having an extremely difficult time hearing people when I talk on the phone. It will be a miracle if my phone makes it through the week.
But by the end of Tuesday, Foster was seeming a little bit happier, and this morning, he finally got to drink some formula again. Happy day!!
I think that all moms (and not just moms, all people) have had days where it just seems like absolutely everything that can go wrong, goes wrong. When I was a kid, I got teased a lot, and I always took it very personally. But my parents would always tell me to laugh it off, and to learn to laugh at myself. I didn't really take their advice until I was older, and I try to apply that every day now. So what if I was covered in vomit and poop on Monday? It's funny looking back now! If Foster can manage to keep laughing and smiling while having a day full of barf, so can I.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Pregnancy is a party...except not really. But the end result is incredible.
I always thought that I would want to wait to start my family.
Before I was married, my ideal situation (I thought) would have been to be married for at least a year before trying to start a family. Although I had really wanted to wait until we were done with school and my husband had a good career and we had a house and a good paycheck coming in every month.
But when I met Seth and we knew we wanted to get married, and I knew that he was leaning toward medical school, I knew that that would put me at about 35 by the time we would start having a family. We didn't want to wait quit that long, but we still thought that we'd wait at least a year and enjoy being married and being just the two of us. So that's why I was really surprised when we both had the feeling that it was time to start our family just a short month after we had been married.
Seth and I pray together every morning and every night...well, we try to. And before he started working nights, we were really good about it. We very rarely missed a morning or night. So as we started praying about it, and trying to think of the logistics: "How will we afford a baby?" "Will I quit my job and be a stay at home mom? Can we afford that?" "We can't stay in a one bedroom apartment, where will we move?" With all of these questions circling around, though, we couldn't deny the feelings that we had that there was a baby waiting to come to us. I had felt it so strongly on several occasions, I would dream about having a baby, it was just an overpowering feeling that now was the time. And we often thought of the first commandment that God gave to Adam and Eve: "Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth" (Genesis 1:28). We believe that God wants us to have families, to have children, and that children are a blessing from Him. Now, obviously, I'm not saying that this is right for every family. But for us, it was.
So we forged ahead, with a plan that we would move to Nacogdoches so Seth could attend SFA, since they had a great nursing program, and I would continue working through the pregnancy. Seth had been going to school during the day and doing a CNA program at night to receive his CNA license and begin working in the medical field, and worked at Wal-Mart in his spare time (I have so much respect for custodians now at Wal-Mart, it is a tough, unpleasant job!!).
And 8 months later, I was pregnant!
I had gotten up early on a Saturday morning and decided to take another test (I had taken who knows how many in those 8 months). I left it in the bathroom to wait the 3-5 minutes you are supposed to wait, and went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Seth had gotten up and went into the bathroom. He called out to me, "Has there ever been a hint of a second line?" (For those of you who know my husband, he likes to joke around. A lot.) I said, "No. Never." He said, "Well..." and I started to get so upset! I told him it wasn't funny, and that I didn't want him to joke about this. But he held up the test, and sure enough, there was the faintest little pink line you've ever seen. And tears just started to stream down my face and down Seth's face and we hugged and cried and said a prayer of gratitude. Of course I had the immediate urge to call our families and tell them, but I was afraid to tell people too soon, for fear of a miscarriage. So we lasted about...5 days...before we broke down and told our parents. But we asked them to keep it a secret because we wanted a doctor's visit first!
And then the symptoms came. Oh, the symptoms.
I was exhausted all the time. I had actually been feeling extremely tired for several weeks before I found out I was pregnant. I would come home from work and just crash into bed. I wouldn't even eat dinner, I would just pass out until my alarm went off the next morning. I had no appetite, which was weird for me because I usually have a pretty good one. And it seemed like the week after I found out I was pregnant, I started feeling nauseous. Like, all the time. I wouldn't get sick, but I wished I would have because I thought it might make me feel better! It was so crummy to feel like vomiting 24/7, but to never do it.
But I was wrong. I did NOT want to vomit.
I still remember the first time I actually got sick. We were driving to Nacogdoches to look at a few houses. I started feeling just awful, so we stopped at a Whataburger to get a Sprite. While we were in the drive-thru, it happened. So. Sick. Seth had to pause during our order and drive over to the dumpster in the parking lot. I was mortified. He walked over to the drive-thru to pick up our drinks and came back over to help me clean up. We stopped at a dollar store to pick up some hair ties for me, it was just miserable. I did not feel like looking at any houses, and we had a rough day. And from then on, I just continued to get sick. Every day, I would vomit multiple times a day. Sometimes it would wake me out of my sleep. I would just cry, and sometimes Seth would say, "I don't think I can clean that up. I don't think I can do it. Ok, yes I can. Ok actually, I can't." And of course, being pregnant and extremely tender and emotional, I would burst into tears and feel like a disgusting, vomit-covered lady.
My first doctor's appointment, they did all the usual things. Made me take another test to make sure I was really pregnant, wrote down my height and my weight...my weight. I stepped on the scale and I had lost about 5 pounds. I wasn't too worried because I thought, "I could stand to be about 10 pounds lighter, so that's cool!" I told my doctor about the nausea, and he subscribed Zofran for me (which if you haven't heard of Zofran, it's a super strong nausea medication that is usually used for chemo patients). I was scheduled to take it 3 times a day, but I still vomited around the clock with it. Who knows what would have happened if I hadn't taken Zofran?! And because I was so sick, it was impossible to keep it under wraps for very long. Otherwise, people would have thought I had caught some crazy disease and that I was dying.
Then the doctor pulled out the little portable heart beat monitor, squirted out that freezing cold blue stuff, and started trying to locate the heartbeat.
Nothing.
No problem, the doctor said, sometimes it's tricky to get it in the right spot when mothers are not very far along.
Searching.
Searching.
Nothing.
Nothing.
I started feeling a little bit nervous, so he had me go to another room and get hooked up to the big sonogram machine, so he could see the baby. I wouldn't be able to hear the heartbeat, but I would be able to see the baby. He pointed out the little peanut that was ours, and began to stare intently at the screen. He was silent for a very long time. "I'm having a hard time locating a heart beat." My heart began to sank, I was sure that he was going to tell me that we had lost the baby. It seemed like forever that he sat and stared intently at the screen, with Seth holding my hand so tightly I was afraid my veins would burst. But finally he said, "I saw a flicker of a heart beat. Congratulations!"
We were going to have a baby.
It was such a fun and exciting time! We started to think of baby names that we liked, we started to discuss our hopes for our child, and of course I started to change a lot. But the weird thing was that I wasn't getting a cute little bump. The opposite was happening. My ribs were protruding. I had lost 10 pounds. Then 15. Then 20. Then 25. Then, I started bleeding. I bled for my entire pregnancy. Terrible bleeding, terrible cramps. Horrifying moments. I was taken to the hospital, thinking that we had miscarried. But each time, we were reassured that everything was ok. I was never given an answer as to why there was so much bleeding, just told to do as little as possible. I was put on bed rest, and needed assistance for everything. I mean, I couldn't get up and walk to the bathroom by myself, I couldn't bathe myself, I couldn't eat, it was just miserable. And since Seth was at school and work all day every day, I had to stay with my parents and Seth would visit on the weekends. We did that for about a month before I couldn't stand being away from him anymore. And every time someone came over to visit, they would say the same thing:
"You look awful."
Not the words I wanted to hear!! But it was true, and I don't really have any pictures from my pregnancy because I looked so terrible. I looked transparent, it was gross. But around 6 months, things started to change. And by month 7, I finally looked cute and pregnant, and allowed a picture!
I started going into labor at 31 weeks. The first time it happened, we waited it out for a bit, counting the minutes between contractions. When they were about 5 minutes apart, we decided to head out to the hospital. I was nervous because I knew it was too soon. At the hospital, I was dilated about a 1, but they decided to give me a couple rounds of shots to keep the labor from progressing. And we were sent home late that night, exhausted and baby-less.
This happened again about 2 weeks later, and I was again sent home.
The morning of February 8, I woke up at about 2 am, my usual wake up time, because I was having some intense contractions. But I tried to ignore it because I always had them and I was only 38 weeks, so I figured I just needed to suck it up and keep waiting. I called my mom later that morning, and she had my sister come over to keep me company. I was trying to do everything under the sun to take my mind off of the discomfort I was feeling. I did the dishes, pausing every few minutes to breathe through a contraction. We went to the grocery store, and I was completely bent over, pushing the cart through the store, telling Alyssa "I'm fine, I'm fine!". I just really didn't want to be turned away from the hospital again! We got home and I started folding a load of laundry, but it became really difficult because the contractions were coming on so strong that I couldn't talk during them. I had to just breathe.
My mother-in-law finally convinced me to go, so Alyssa drove me to the hospital. Luckily, Seth was working that day, so he had gotten me signed in and had a wheelchair waiting for me. By the time we arrived, the contractions were right on top of each other. They took me into a room and checked me and I was already a 5, so they said it was baby time!
I started feeling nervous and panicked. My sister Megan came to the hospital and did my hair (I had wanted to look cute for pictures, but I so didn't!!). Everything went SO quickly! They gave me an epidural, but I progressed so fast that it didn't have time to kick in. I felt every moment of that labor. It seemed like I went from a 5 to a 9. I called the nurse to tell her that I felt like I needed to push (she didn't think so since I was a first time mom), and she was like "Whoa! You're a 10, don't push don't push! The doctor wasn't even totally dressed and ready by the time Foster came. It was extremely painful, but so amazing. I heard those sweet cries and it felt unreal!! And holding him for the first time--oh my. Just holding my baby, looking at him, him looking at me, touching his sweet little fingers, kissing his soft, warm cheeks, cradling him and talking to him and realizing that he was my son--MY son--it was the most spiritual, amazing experience of my life. I pushed so hard that I busted all of the blood vessels in my face. It made it look like I was covered in zits, but really I had just busted the blood vessels. I was embarrassed at first and didn't want anyone to see the pictures, but it's a picture of me holding my baby for the first time. It is so sweet, so I'm not embarrassed. I love it!
February 8, 2013 was the best day of my life. That was the day I met Foster Camden Philip Yates.
I felt the most overwhelming love I had ever felt. How could I love someone so much that I was just meeting for the first time? But oh my goodness, he was the sweetest little man you have ever seen. 6 pounds, 8 ounces, 18 1/4 inches long, and a head full of dark curly hair. And he was ours. I can still see my family walking into the room about an hour or so after we had the baby. Their faces of surprise and excitement and tears were so sweet, and it was so fun to watch each one of them meet Foster.
I remember the day we were leaving the hospital. I started to feel a little bit uneasy. I thought, "Are they really going to let me leave with this baby? Do they trust me?! What if I don't know what to do?!" And when we were getting ready to put him in his car seat, we realized we didn't have the base, so my mother-in-law drove back to our house to get it. I started to cry and begged Seth to call my mom and have her come to the hospital. And now I feel like a silly 12-year old girl who needed her "mommy", but yes, I truly did need my mom! I needed a good pep talk from her. I needed her to tell me that I was going to do a great job. That everything would be ok. And so my mom came and did all of those things. She even did the unpleasant jobs that no one other than your own mother would want to do!
And in the weeks to follow, she would come anytime I needed help. She even came in the middle of the night that first week because Foster wasn't eating. She drove us to doctor appointments, she made meals for us, she would rub my back, she would help me feel better as I got through the baby blues and reassure me that I wasn't a "bad mom", I mean she was so wonderful. I don't know what I would have done without my mom. There were so many wonderful friends and family that helped us with Foster, but everything I have learned to do as a mom I learned from my own mom. In my (biased) opinion, she's the best mom! I appreciate her patience with me as I've learned how to adjust to motherhood. And I appreciate Foster's patience with me, too. I feel like this is what I was made to do, and I have loved watching him grow!
Before I was married, my ideal situation (I thought) would have been to be married for at least a year before trying to start a family. Although I had really wanted to wait until we were done with school and my husband had a good career and we had a house and a good paycheck coming in every month.
But when I met Seth and we knew we wanted to get married, and I knew that he was leaning toward medical school, I knew that that would put me at about 35 by the time we would start having a family. We didn't want to wait quit that long, but we still thought that we'd wait at least a year and enjoy being married and being just the two of us. So that's why I was really surprised when we both had the feeling that it was time to start our family just a short month after we had been married.
Seth and I pray together every morning and every night...well, we try to. And before he started working nights, we were really good about it. We very rarely missed a morning or night. So as we started praying about it, and trying to think of the logistics: "How will we afford a baby?" "Will I quit my job and be a stay at home mom? Can we afford that?" "We can't stay in a one bedroom apartment, where will we move?" With all of these questions circling around, though, we couldn't deny the feelings that we had that there was a baby waiting to come to us. I had felt it so strongly on several occasions, I would dream about having a baby, it was just an overpowering feeling that now was the time. And we often thought of the first commandment that God gave to Adam and Eve: "Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth" (Genesis 1:28). We believe that God wants us to have families, to have children, and that children are a blessing from Him. Now, obviously, I'm not saying that this is right for every family. But for us, it was.
So we forged ahead, with a plan that we would move to Nacogdoches so Seth could attend SFA, since they had a great nursing program, and I would continue working through the pregnancy. Seth had been going to school during the day and doing a CNA program at night to receive his CNA license and begin working in the medical field, and worked at Wal-Mart in his spare time (I have so much respect for custodians now at Wal-Mart, it is a tough, unpleasant job!!).
And 8 months later, I was pregnant!
I had gotten up early on a Saturday morning and decided to take another test (I had taken who knows how many in those 8 months). I left it in the bathroom to wait the 3-5 minutes you are supposed to wait, and went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Seth had gotten up and went into the bathroom. He called out to me, "Has there ever been a hint of a second line?" (For those of you who know my husband, he likes to joke around. A lot.) I said, "No. Never." He said, "Well..." and I started to get so upset! I told him it wasn't funny, and that I didn't want him to joke about this. But he held up the test, and sure enough, there was the faintest little pink line you've ever seen. And tears just started to stream down my face and down Seth's face and we hugged and cried and said a prayer of gratitude. Of course I had the immediate urge to call our families and tell them, but I was afraid to tell people too soon, for fear of a miscarriage. So we lasted about...5 days...before we broke down and told our parents. But we asked them to keep it a secret because we wanted a doctor's visit first!
And then the symptoms came. Oh, the symptoms.
I was exhausted all the time. I had actually been feeling extremely tired for several weeks before I found out I was pregnant. I would come home from work and just crash into bed. I wouldn't even eat dinner, I would just pass out until my alarm went off the next morning. I had no appetite, which was weird for me because I usually have a pretty good one. And it seemed like the week after I found out I was pregnant, I started feeling nauseous. Like, all the time. I wouldn't get sick, but I wished I would have because I thought it might make me feel better! It was so crummy to feel like vomiting 24/7, but to never do it.
But I was wrong. I did NOT want to vomit.
I still remember the first time I actually got sick. We were driving to Nacogdoches to look at a few houses. I started feeling just awful, so we stopped at a Whataburger to get a Sprite. While we were in the drive-thru, it happened. So. Sick. Seth had to pause during our order and drive over to the dumpster in the parking lot. I was mortified. He walked over to the drive-thru to pick up our drinks and came back over to help me clean up. We stopped at a dollar store to pick up some hair ties for me, it was just miserable. I did not feel like looking at any houses, and we had a rough day. And from then on, I just continued to get sick. Every day, I would vomit multiple times a day. Sometimes it would wake me out of my sleep. I would just cry, and sometimes Seth would say, "I don't think I can clean that up. I don't think I can do it. Ok, yes I can. Ok actually, I can't." And of course, being pregnant and extremely tender and emotional, I would burst into tears and feel like a disgusting, vomit-covered lady.
My first doctor's appointment, they did all the usual things. Made me take another test to make sure I was really pregnant, wrote down my height and my weight...my weight. I stepped on the scale and I had lost about 5 pounds. I wasn't too worried because I thought, "I could stand to be about 10 pounds lighter, so that's cool!" I told my doctor about the nausea, and he subscribed Zofran for me (which if you haven't heard of Zofran, it's a super strong nausea medication that is usually used for chemo patients). I was scheduled to take it 3 times a day, but I still vomited around the clock with it. Who knows what would have happened if I hadn't taken Zofran?! And because I was so sick, it was impossible to keep it under wraps for very long. Otherwise, people would have thought I had caught some crazy disease and that I was dying.
Then the doctor pulled out the little portable heart beat monitor, squirted out that freezing cold blue stuff, and started trying to locate the heartbeat.
Nothing.
No problem, the doctor said, sometimes it's tricky to get it in the right spot when mothers are not very far along.
Searching.
Searching.
Nothing.
Nothing.
I started feeling a little bit nervous, so he had me go to another room and get hooked up to the big sonogram machine, so he could see the baby. I wouldn't be able to hear the heartbeat, but I would be able to see the baby. He pointed out the little peanut that was ours, and began to stare intently at the screen. He was silent for a very long time. "I'm having a hard time locating a heart beat." My heart began to sank, I was sure that he was going to tell me that we had lost the baby. It seemed like forever that he sat and stared intently at the screen, with Seth holding my hand so tightly I was afraid my veins would burst. But finally he said, "I saw a flicker of a heart beat. Congratulations!"
We were going to have a baby.
It was such a fun and exciting time! We started to think of baby names that we liked, we started to discuss our hopes for our child, and of course I started to change a lot. But the weird thing was that I wasn't getting a cute little bump. The opposite was happening. My ribs were protruding. I had lost 10 pounds. Then 15. Then 20. Then 25. Then, I started bleeding. I bled for my entire pregnancy. Terrible bleeding, terrible cramps. Horrifying moments. I was taken to the hospital, thinking that we had miscarried. But each time, we were reassured that everything was ok. I was never given an answer as to why there was so much bleeding, just told to do as little as possible. I was put on bed rest, and needed assistance for everything. I mean, I couldn't get up and walk to the bathroom by myself, I couldn't bathe myself, I couldn't eat, it was just miserable. And since Seth was at school and work all day every day, I had to stay with my parents and Seth would visit on the weekends. We did that for about a month before I couldn't stand being away from him anymore. And every time someone came over to visit, they would say the same thing:
"You look awful."
Not the words I wanted to hear!! But it was true, and I don't really have any pictures from my pregnancy because I looked so terrible. I looked transparent, it was gross. But around 6 months, things started to change. And by month 7, I finally looked cute and pregnant, and allowed a picture!
This was me at about 8 months, at my baby shower, with 2 of my sisters and my niece:
I started going into labor at 31 weeks. The first time it happened, we waited it out for a bit, counting the minutes between contractions. When they were about 5 minutes apart, we decided to head out to the hospital. I was nervous because I knew it was too soon. At the hospital, I was dilated about a 1, but they decided to give me a couple rounds of shots to keep the labor from progressing. And we were sent home late that night, exhausted and baby-less.
This happened again about 2 weeks later, and I was again sent home.
The morning of February 8, I woke up at about 2 am, my usual wake up time, because I was having some intense contractions. But I tried to ignore it because I always had them and I was only 38 weeks, so I figured I just needed to suck it up and keep waiting. I called my mom later that morning, and she had my sister come over to keep me company. I was trying to do everything under the sun to take my mind off of the discomfort I was feeling. I did the dishes, pausing every few minutes to breathe through a contraction. We went to the grocery store, and I was completely bent over, pushing the cart through the store, telling Alyssa "I'm fine, I'm fine!". I just really didn't want to be turned away from the hospital again! We got home and I started folding a load of laundry, but it became really difficult because the contractions were coming on so strong that I couldn't talk during them. I had to just breathe.
My mother-in-law finally convinced me to go, so Alyssa drove me to the hospital. Luckily, Seth was working that day, so he had gotten me signed in and had a wheelchair waiting for me. By the time we arrived, the contractions were right on top of each other. They took me into a room and checked me and I was already a 5, so they said it was baby time!
I started feeling nervous and panicked. My sister Megan came to the hospital and did my hair (I had wanted to look cute for pictures, but I so didn't!!). Everything went SO quickly! They gave me an epidural, but I progressed so fast that it didn't have time to kick in. I felt every moment of that labor. It seemed like I went from a 5 to a 9. I called the nurse to tell her that I felt like I needed to push (she didn't think so since I was a first time mom), and she was like "Whoa! You're a 10, don't push don't push! The doctor wasn't even totally dressed and ready by the time Foster came. It was extremely painful, but so amazing. I heard those sweet cries and it felt unreal!! And holding him for the first time--oh my. Just holding my baby, looking at him, him looking at me, touching his sweet little fingers, kissing his soft, warm cheeks, cradling him and talking to him and realizing that he was my son--MY son--it was the most spiritual, amazing experience of my life. I pushed so hard that I busted all of the blood vessels in my face. It made it look like I was covered in zits, but really I had just busted the blood vessels. I was embarrassed at first and didn't want anyone to see the pictures, but it's a picture of me holding my baby for the first time. It is so sweet, so I'm not embarrassed. I love it!
February 8, 2013 was the best day of my life. That was the day I met Foster Camden Philip Yates.
I felt the most overwhelming love I had ever felt. How could I love someone so much that I was just meeting for the first time? But oh my goodness, he was the sweetest little man you have ever seen. 6 pounds, 8 ounces, 18 1/4 inches long, and a head full of dark curly hair. And he was ours. I can still see my family walking into the room about an hour or so after we had the baby. Their faces of surprise and excitement and tears were so sweet, and it was so fun to watch each one of them meet Foster.
I remember the day we were leaving the hospital. I started to feel a little bit uneasy. I thought, "Are they really going to let me leave with this baby? Do they trust me?! What if I don't know what to do?!" And when we were getting ready to put him in his car seat, we realized we didn't have the base, so my mother-in-law drove back to our house to get it. I started to cry and begged Seth to call my mom and have her come to the hospital. And now I feel like a silly 12-year old girl who needed her "mommy", but yes, I truly did need my mom! I needed a good pep talk from her. I needed her to tell me that I was going to do a great job. That everything would be ok. And so my mom came and did all of those things. She even did the unpleasant jobs that no one other than your own mother would want to do!
And in the weeks to follow, she would come anytime I needed help. She even came in the middle of the night that first week because Foster wasn't eating. She drove us to doctor appointments, she made meals for us, she would rub my back, she would help me feel better as I got through the baby blues and reassure me that I wasn't a "bad mom", I mean she was so wonderful. I don't know what I would have done without my mom. There were so many wonderful friends and family that helped us with Foster, but everything I have learned to do as a mom I learned from my own mom. In my (biased) opinion, she's the best mom! I appreciate her patience with me as I've learned how to adjust to motherhood. And I appreciate Foster's patience with me, too. I feel like this is what I was made to do, and I have loved watching him grow!
Friday, October 11, 2013
It Was Not Love at First Sight
I don't mean for that to sound harsh.
But when I first met Seth, I wasn't thinking, "There he is! There's my future husband!" Because the times in my life when I have thought that silly thought about someone, it always backfired.
I met Seth at church.
I think for LDS young single adults, there is this stigma attached to YSA activities--only the weird people go, and all of them want to get married and all of the activities are dumb. And sometimes, yes, that is true. But not always! Before I moved to Gilmer, I never went to any of the activities in my student wards in Utah. Of course, I didn't go to church either, so I never knew about them, and knowing about an activity makes it easier to go...
Anyway, after I moved to Gilmer, I decided that I needed to surround myself with good people if I was truly going to make this change in my life. So I started going to the activities: institute, FHE, and any other random activity there was. On one particular FHE night, I decided that instead of going to the activity, I was going to stay home with my mom, who was alone because my dad was in Florida. I thought it would be good to spend Family Home Evening with my mom, since we're family and everything.
But then Kelsie called me.
My cousin Kelsie was one of the YSA representatives for our stake, and she called me wondering where I was that night. She said they were making Valentine cards for the missionaries serving from our stake and that I should come. I was going to have to drive about 30 minutes to get to the house the activity was at, but Kelsie really wanted me to go, so I did. When I got there, it was a small group. Now, normally I don't do this, but I decided to just introduce myself to the guy sitting on the couch near Kelsie. "Hey, I don't think we've met before. I'm Brittany." "Hey, I'm Seth."
And that was it. No thoughts about him, nothing. I don't remember anything else about that night.
And then I started seeing him at the activities and at institute. My first thought was, "This guy is exactly like Marshall from 'How I Met Your Mother.'" He was hilarious. We never really talked, but I would hear his comments and just laugh to myself. He was friendly to everyone. You know how some guys are just flirtatious with everyone? Not Seth. He was just nice to people. The more I saw him, the more I wanted to get to know him. However, there was just one problem:
I was pretty sure he was 18 and had just graduated high school.
And that made me feel disgusting. I was like, "What is my problem?! I just finished my 4th year at a university, I am way too old to think that this boy is so cute!" So I double checked with my cousin Matt at work one day. Matt informed me that Seth was our age and that he had graduated a year after me. I found out he was only 2 months younger than me, and I accidentally exclaimed, "He is mighty fine!"
So what does Matt do?
Matt tells Seth. Matt tells Seth the very next Sunday that I think he is mighty fine.
And what does Seth do?
Seth asks me out.
He had noticed me several months before I did. He had seen me around at church. He saw me lead the music at Stake Conference. He had served me my food at the restaurant he worked at. And I don't remember any of it!! He said that because Matt told him my feelings, he had the courage to ask me out.
And the night that he asked me out at the end of institute, we stayed talking in the parking lot for probably 2 hours or so. At one point, his mom called to see where he was, and he said, "Mom, you're cramping my style. I'm talking to a girl." But as we started talking that night, I told myself that I was going to be myself around him.
Before Seth, I had this habit of changing myself to be whatever I thought the guy I was interested in wanted me to be. This includes a period of my life where I listened to heavy metal for one guy, another guy I pretended to be really country, another guy I pretended to love the outdoors and all activities like hiking, caving, etc. Oh, and another guy I learned several MLB statistics for. And of course, none of those relationships panned out. Why? Because I wasn't being myself. And if you keep doing that, one day, the real you is going to slip out and your partner is going to be really confused and the relationship will not work.
So, that night with Seth, I was honest and answered everything truthfully. My favorite band is Muse. I'm really interested in fashion. I love to eat. Like, I'm really, really good at it. I love rollercoasters. I like learning new languages. I'm not fluent in any, but I like to learn. Playing the piano helps me de-stress. And the thing I felt like I needed to tell him the most:
I'm just coming back to church. I may not be the kind of girl you are looking for.
To which Seth replied:
I just got active again a year ago. I know exactly where you are and how you feel.
And boom. I was sold. The rest is history. Everything happened so fast, and everything has come together so perfectly.
The title of this blog refers to a common misconception. I recently read a blog post that said that there is no such thing as love at first sight. I think it's a lovely phrase, it's really sweet and romantic, but it's true. Real, true, honest love takes time to develop. I can honestly say right now that I love Seth, but it's a different kind of love than when we first got married.
We have been through a lot together: learning how to live together, learning how to budget together, learning how to communicate when we disagree, learning how to compromise, learning how to eat the same boring meals every day because it's what we can afford, learning how to support each other, learning how to laugh even when we want to cry.
Surviving Pregnant Brittany together (that's a tough thing, folks. I'm not going to lie.). Cleaning up vomit (ok, so only Seth has had to do that one. But, he did it!). Picking out a baby name together. Going through labor together to bring a precious child of God into the world (ok, that one was mostly me. But Seth endured the unkind things I shouted out, like "How could you do this to me?!" and "Don't touch me! No wait, please rub my neck! No, don't touch me!"). Surviving when that precious baby starts screaming in the middle of the night and will not be calmed by anything. Loving that baby more than anything in the world.
Staying up late to help the other study for a big test the next morning. Helping each other with chores around the house and the yard. Forgiving each other quickly. Praying together. Taking care of each other when one gets sick. Getting through a death in the family.
Staying together despite our imperfections.
There is no such thing as the perfect companion, the perfect spouse. But for me, Seth is pretty darn close to it. He is so much better than my wildest dreams about a husband. So much better than the silly husband lists me and my best friend Brittany Smith made when we were 14. So much better than any guy I cried over in high school and college. He is just the ultimate. This love that we have is young, it is still growing, and it still has a lot of work to do. But I'm willing to do it. I want to keep trying. I want to have a big family, and keep having sweet babies that have a little bit of me and a little bit of him. I want to be there with Seth when he graduates from nursing school. I want to be there when we own our first home. I want to be there when Seth teaches Foster how to play baseball, when he baptizes him, when he ordains him to the priesthood, when our children grow up and move away, and when we are old and gray sitting on the front porch talking about old memories, like how I thought he was "mighty fine".
I am so grateful for every day God gives me with this incredible person. It might not have been love at first sight, but it sure is now.
But when I first met Seth, I wasn't thinking, "There he is! There's my future husband!" Because the times in my life when I have thought that silly thought about someone, it always backfired.
I met Seth at church.
I think for LDS young single adults, there is this stigma attached to YSA activities--only the weird people go, and all of them want to get married and all of the activities are dumb. And sometimes, yes, that is true. But not always! Before I moved to Gilmer, I never went to any of the activities in my student wards in Utah. Of course, I didn't go to church either, so I never knew about them, and knowing about an activity makes it easier to go...
Anyway, after I moved to Gilmer, I decided that I needed to surround myself with good people if I was truly going to make this change in my life. So I started going to the activities: institute, FHE, and any other random activity there was. On one particular FHE night, I decided that instead of going to the activity, I was going to stay home with my mom, who was alone because my dad was in Florida. I thought it would be good to spend Family Home Evening with my mom, since we're family and everything.
But then Kelsie called me.
My cousin Kelsie was one of the YSA representatives for our stake, and she called me wondering where I was that night. She said they were making Valentine cards for the missionaries serving from our stake and that I should come. I was going to have to drive about 30 minutes to get to the house the activity was at, but Kelsie really wanted me to go, so I did. When I got there, it was a small group. Now, normally I don't do this, but I decided to just introduce myself to the guy sitting on the couch near Kelsie. "Hey, I don't think we've met before. I'm Brittany." "Hey, I'm Seth."
And that was it. No thoughts about him, nothing. I don't remember anything else about that night.
And then I started seeing him at the activities and at institute. My first thought was, "This guy is exactly like Marshall from 'How I Met Your Mother.'" He was hilarious. We never really talked, but I would hear his comments and just laugh to myself. He was friendly to everyone. You know how some guys are just flirtatious with everyone? Not Seth. He was just nice to people. The more I saw him, the more I wanted to get to know him. However, there was just one problem:
I was pretty sure he was 18 and had just graduated high school.
And that made me feel disgusting. I was like, "What is my problem?! I just finished my 4th year at a university, I am way too old to think that this boy is so cute!" So I double checked with my cousin Matt at work one day. Matt informed me that Seth was our age and that he had graduated a year after me. I found out he was only 2 months younger than me, and I accidentally exclaimed, "He is mighty fine!"
So what does Matt do?
Matt tells Seth. Matt tells Seth the very next Sunday that I think he is mighty fine.
And what does Seth do?
Seth asks me out.
He had noticed me several months before I did. He had seen me around at church. He saw me lead the music at Stake Conference. He had served me my food at the restaurant he worked at. And I don't remember any of it!! He said that because Matt told him my feelings, he had the courage to ask me out.
And the night that he asked me out at the end of institute, we stayed talking in the parking lot for probably 2 hours or so. At one point, his mom called to see where he was, and he said, "Mom, you're cramping my style. I'm talking to a girl." But as we started talking that night, I told myself that I was going to be myself around him.
Before Seth, I had this habit of changing myself to be whatever I thought the guy I was interested in wanted me to be. This includes a period of my life where I listened to heavy metal for one guy, another guy I pretended to be really country, another guy I pretended to love the outdoors and all activities like hiking, caving, etc. Oh, and another guy I learned several MLB statistics for. And of course, none of those relationships panned out. Why? Because I wasn't being myself. And if you keep doing that, one day, the real you is going to slip out and your partner is going to be really confused and the relationship will not work.
So, that night with Seth, I was honest and answered everything truthfully. My favorite band is Muse. I'm really interested in fashion. I love to eat. Like, I'm really, really good at it. I love rollercoasters. I like learning new languages. I'm not fluent in any, but I like to learn. Playing the piano helps me de-stress. And the thing I felt like I needed to tell him the most:
I'm just coming back to church. I may not be the kind of girl you are looking for.
To which Seth replied:
I just got active again a year ago. I know exactly where you are and how you feel.
And boom. I was sold. The rest is history. Everything happened so fast, and everything has come together so perfectly.
The title of this blog refers to a common misconception. I recently read a blog post that said that there is no such thing as love at first sight. I think it's a lovely phrase, it's really sweet and romantic, but it's true. Real, true, honest love takes time to develop. I can honestly say right now that I love Seth, but it's a different kind of love than when we first got married.
We have been through a lot together: learning how to live together, learning how to budget together, learning how to communicate when we disagree, learning how to compromise, learning how to eat the same boring meals every day because it's what we can afford, learning how to support each other, learning how to laugh even when we want to cry.
Surviving Pregnant Brittany together (that's a tough thing, folks. I'm not going to lie.). Cleaning up vomit (ok, so only Seth has had to do that one. But, he did it!). Picking out a baby name together. Going through labor together to bring a precious child of God into the world (ok, that one was mostly me. But Seth endured the unkind things I shouted out, like "How could you do this to me?!" and "Don't touch me! No wait, please rub my neck! No, don't touch me!"). Surviving when that precious baby starts screaming in the middle of the night and will not be calmed by anything. Loving that baby more than anything in the world.
Staying up late to help the other study for a big test the next morning. Helping each other with chores around the house and the yard. Forgiving each other quickly. Praying together. Taking care of each other when one gets sick. Getting through a death in the family.
Staying together despite our imperfections.
There is no such thing as the perfect companion, the perfect spouse. But for me, Seth is pretty darn close to it. He is so much better than my wildest dreams about a husband. So much better than the silly husband lists me and my best friend Brittany Smith made when we were 14. So much better than any guy I cried over in high school and college. He is just the ultimate. This love that we have is young, it is still growing, and it still has a lot of work to do. But I'm willing to do it. I want to keep trying. I want to have a big family, and keep having sweet babies that have a little bit of me and a little bit of him. I want to be there with Seth when he graduates from nursing school. I want to be there when we own our first home. I want to be there when Seth teaches Foster how to play baseball, when he baptizes him, when he ordains him to the priesthood, when our children grow up and move away, and when we are old and gray sitting on the front porch talking about old memories, like how I thought he was "mighty fine".
I am so grateful for every day God gives me with this incredible person. It might not have been love at first sight, but it sure is now.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
The New Adventures of Old Brittany
Yes, I stole that name from the TV show.
The last few weeks, I've been doing a lot of reflecting and thinking about how my life has turned out. I'm a big believer that God has a plan for each of us. But I think that sometimes, it is very difficult for us to understand why different trials come or why we have certain struggles.
For those of you that read The Book of Mormon, it says in Jacob 5:22: "And it came to pass that the Lord of the vineyard said unto his servant: Counsel me not; I knew that it was a poor spot of ground; wherefore, I said unto thee, I have nourished it this long time, and thou beholdest that it hath brought forth much fruit."
I've been thinking about that verse, and how maybe sometimes when it seems that life has been unkind or unfair to us, we ask the Lord, "Why? Why Lord would you do this to me?" But in this verse, He says, "Why would you ask me that? I know what I am doing, I know what you are capable of. I will take care of you, and this will all work out for your good."
I had many struggles when I went away to college. My sophomore year, I let personal problems keep me from church. I became frustrated with the way things were happening, and slowly but surely I let myself become a part of a totally different life. It's like I threw everything I had ever been taught my whole life--things to do, things to avoid--out the window. Eventually, I was a mess.
This is a picture of me from that time:
I really don't like this picture.
She looks unhappy. Her eyes are dark, she is not really smiling. It was really just a horrible time in my life. I was just sad. I was depressed, really. I did not go to any of my classes--I got F's every semester except for my ensembles. I would just waste away the day, shopping with money I didn't really have, or eating, or getting into trouble with friends. By the end of my time in Logan, I had acquired so many new habits and tried so many new things that I should have died multiple times.
And at the suggestion of my sweet sister Megan, I moved home to Texas. I was back around my family. I was away from everything negative I had been surrounding myself with in Utah. It was supposed to be the ultimate place to go away to college because I'd be surrounding myself with the church, but it wasn't the case for me.
Here is a picture of me a few months after I moved home to Texas:
I love this picture.
I love that woman. She takes care of herself. She has positive thoughts. She doesn't hide behind way too much eye makeup. She is smart. She works hard. She prays. She is kind to others. She loves God.
Moving back home was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.
I had so many people wonder why I left during my fourth year of college, why did I leave the music opportunities I had, why would I come to a small town of about 6000 people? Actually, I think it's 5000...
Why?
Because I knew in my heart that I deserved more. I knew that I deserved to be happy, and I knew that I couldn't do it on my own. And when I doubted myself, doubted God, wondered why I had gone down this path, Jacob 5:22 answered that. God knew why. He was molding me into the woman He needed me to be. And now looking back, everything makes sense! I moved home for so many reasons! The main one being my husband. I would have never met him if I hadn't come home, and he has completely changed my life. I've been to the temple--I honestly did not think that would happen!! And the blessings that has brought into my life are immeasurable. I have an eternal family, what more could you ask for?
Moving home strengthened my relationship with my mom--I never thought we would be as close as we are now, and it's hard to remember what it was like to not be close with her! My testimony of the gospel really blossomed. I grew up, I matured. Although I'm sure I still have some maturing to do...
Old Brittany is not gone, it's just a different version. The New Brittany.
I promise I'm not so somber all the time, and that this blog will not just be about my sob stories or about me preaching. I am funny sometimes!! :)
And I'd like to add that she has not lost any of her ghetto-ness. She's still got it.
The last few weeks, I've been doing a lot of reflecting and thinking about how my life has turned out. I'm a big believer that God has a plan for each of us. But I think that sometimes, it is very difficult for us to understand why different trials come or why we have certain struggles.
For those of you that read The Book of Mormon, it says in Jacob 5:22: "And it came to pass that the Lord of the vineyard said unto his servant: Counsel me not; I knew that it was a poor spot of ground; wherefore, I said unto thee, I have nourished it this long time, and thou beholdest that it hath brought forth much fruit."
I've been thinking about that verse, and how maybe sometimes when it seems that life has been unkind or unfair to us, we ask the Lord, "Why? Why Lord would you do this to me?" But in this verse, He says, "Why would you ask me that? I know what I am doing, I know what you are capable of. I will take care of you, and this will all work out for your good."
I had many struggles when I went away to college. My sophomore year, I let personal problems keep me from church. I became frustrated with the way things were happening, and slowly but surely I let myself become a part of a totally different life. It's like I threw everything I had ever been taught my whole life--things to do, things to avoid--out the window. Eventually, I was a mess.
This is a picture of me from that time:
I really don't like this picture.
She looks unhappy. Her eyes are dark, she is not really smiling. It was really just a horrible time in my life. I was just sad. I was depressed, really. I did not go to any of my classes--I got F's every semester except for my ensembles. I would just waste away the day, shopping with money I didn't really have, or eating, or getting into trouble with friends. By the end of my time in Logan, I had acquired so many new habits and tried so many new things that I should have died multiple times.
And at the suggestion of my sweet sister Megan, I moved home to Texas. I was back around my family. I was away from everything negative I had been surrounding myself with in Utah. It was supposed to be the ultimate place to go away to college because I'd be surrounding myself with the church, but it wasn't the case for me.
Here is a picture of me a few months after I moved home to Texas:
I love this picture.
I love that woman. She takes care of herself. She has positive thoughts. She doesn't hide behind way too much eye makeup. She is smart. She works hard. She prays. She is kind to others. She loves God.
Moving back home was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.
I had so many people wonder why I left during my fourth year of college, why did I leave the music opportunities I had, why would I come to a small town of about 6000 people? Actually, I think it's 5000...
Why?
Because I knew in my heart that I deserved more. I knew that I deserved to be happy, and I knew that I couldn't do it on my own. And when I doubted myself, doubted God, wondered why I had gone down this path, Jacob 5:22 answered that. God knew why. He was molding me into the woman He needed me to be. And now looking back, everything makes sense! I moved home for so many reasons! The main one being my husband. I would have never met him if I hadn't come home, and he has completely changed my life. I've been to the temple--I honestly did not think that would happen!! And the blessings that has brought into my life are immeasurable. I have an eternal family, what more could you ask for?
Moving home strengthened my relationship with my mom--I never thought we would be as close as we are now, and it's hard to remember what it was like to not be close with her! My testimony of the gospel really blossomed. I grew up, I matured. Although I'm sure I still have some maturing to do...
Old Brittany is not gone, it's just a different version. The New Brittany.
I promise I'm not so somber all the time, and that this blog will not just be about my sob stories or about me preaching. I am funny sometimes!! :)
And I'd like to add that she has not lost any of her ghetto-ness. She's still got it.
Monday, September 23, 2013
My Family
We've got a first timer here.
I've wanted to start a blog for years, and today, I've decided it's time. So here we go!
First and foremost, I should tell you that my family is the most important thing in my life. They are my everything.
I've got a 7 month old son named Foster who just absolutely makes my heart melt. His sweet smile can make a bad day instantly become the best day.
He is learning something new all the time, and I can't believe how quickly time is flying. I feel like I have to hold on to every moment with him before it passes by.
He has changed me for the better.
Having a baby means you really can't be selfish. It's no longer my schedule, my timing, my needs first. Yes, you learn those things to a degree when you get married, but it's a whole different ballgame when it's your baby. This sweet baby came from heaven to me. I don't care if it sounds cheesy, it's the truth! It's my job as his mom to raise him. To teach him right from wrong. To help him make the right choices. To help him be a contributor to society, for the better. To help educate him. To encourage him, to make him feel better when he's sad, and most of all, to just simply love him. And let me tell you, that last one is the easiest part!
I love him more than words can say.
The other man in my life is my husband. Where to begin with him? To find someone that loves you unconditionally, that loves the parts of you that you don't really like much about yourself, that makes you want to be a better person, that makes you laugh so hard you're afraid you will pee your pants, and who won't laugh at you when you do! (that's never happened...) The person that you want to call first with the good news and with the bad. The person who always has your back, no matter what. Your best friend. I mean, it is seriously the best thing.
I think of Michael Buble's song:
I get to kiss you, baby, just because I can.
He is the best. I honestly never knew it could be like this, and I know in ten years I will say that I didn't know what love was in the beginning, and ten years after that, I will say the same thing. The great thing about our marriage is that I know it will just keep getting better and better.
And, of course, I happen to be extremely attracted to him.
All in all, he is the perfect person for me. And it's crazy that I found him, and I am so thankful.
And about the title of my blog...
As any newlywed couple knows, or any long-time married people remember, we are broke!! We are both in school, and Seth is on the path toward medical school ,so we are going to be in this phase of life for a good chunk of time. Our motto is: "Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without!" Our love for each other and for our son is what keeps us going, and we've never been happier. I know that one day we'll be able to look back on these days of pb&j sandwiches and Redbox date nights with fondness!
I've wanted to start a blog for years, and today, I've decided it's time. So here we go!
First and foremost, I should tell you that my family is the most important thing in my life. They are my everything.
I've got a 7 month old son named Foster who just absolutely makes my heart melt. His sweet smile can make a bad day instantly become the best day.
He is learning something new all the time, and I can't believe how quickly time is flying. I feel like I have to hold on to every moment with him before it passes by.
He has changed me for the better.
Having a baby means you really can't be selfish. It's no longer my schedule, my timing, my needs first. Yes, you learn those things to a degree when you get married, but it's a whole different ballgame when it's your baby. This sweet baby came from heaven to me. I don't care if it sounds cheesy, it's the truth! It's my job as his mom to raise him. To teach him right from wrong. To help him make the right choices. To help him be a contributor to society, for the better. To help educate him. To encourage him, to make him feel better when he's sad, and most of all, to just simply love him. And let me tell you, that last one is the easiest part!
I love him more than words can say.
The other man in my life is my husband. Where to begin with him? To find someone that loves you unconditionally, that loves the parts of you that you don't really like much about yourself, that makes you want to be a better person, that makes you laugh so hard you're afraid you will pee your pants, and who won't laugh at you when you do! (that's never happened...) The person that you want to call first with the good news and with the bad. The person who always has your back, no matter what. Your best friend. I mean, it is seriously the best thing.
I think of Michael Buble's song:
I get to kiss you, baby, just because I can.
He is the best. I honestly never knew it could be like this, and I know in ten years I will say that I didn't know what love was in the beginning, and ten years after that, I will say the same thing. The great thing about our marriage is that I know it will just keep getting better and better.
And, of course, I happen to be extremely attracted to him.
All in all, he is the perfect person for me. And it's crazy that I found him, and I am so thankful.
And about the title of my blog...
As any newlywed couple knows, or any long-time married people remember, we are broke!! We are both in school, and Seth is on the path toward medical school ,so we are going to be in this phase of life for a good chunk of time. Our motto is: "Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without!" Our love for each other and for our son is what keeps us going, and we've never been happier. I know that one day we'll be able to look back on these days of pb&j sandwiches and Redbox date nights with fondness!
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