I Have Been Given Life

Can I get sappy for a minute? 

Thanks. 

We often talk about having children in terms of "giving life."

Mothers are often hailed as almost goddesses in our ability to create and shape people. 

Which I love. 

I absolutely love the ability that I have been blessed with to carry and birth these tiny little humans. Adore it. There isn't a day that goes by that I am not grateful for it.

But I feel like I'm being short-changing them if I don't get real and give them some of the credit, too. 

I may have made them, and I may be raising them, but I have been given life by these babes. I know saying that my children are my life often brings some discontent among more feminist females than I, but I am a mother. That's who I was always meant to be. Having babies and spending all of my time and effort raising those babies is my calling. I get that it's not that way for everyone. I get that some moms need time away or need a break or need something else driving them in life-- and I think that's equally beautiful and worthy. But I, to my core, am a mama. 

But that's the absolutely beautiful thing about the fact that my children have given me life just as much as I've given them theirs--it's true for every single mom out there. Working, Stay-at-home, has a nanny...it doesn't matter. This phrase connects us all because we have all felt it. 

My life is so different because of my children. Daily they teach me things that I never would have learned had it not been for them. Daily I am re-evaluating myself and changing things to become better. To become more. 

They've given me patience to stop and think rationally before I act. 

They've given me resolve to think critically and from a hundred different angles to solve a tantrum or find a solution for a problem. 

They've given me the understanding of how important it is to slow down in life and live in the moment. To appreciate that moment. 

They've given me understanding and forgiveness. 

I may have given them life. I may have brought them into this world and witnessed their first breaths but in so many more ways than I can describe they have truly given me the most useful skills and the best understanding of life. 

Does that mean that I'm always quick to hug and slow to yell? No. Of course not. My toddler is pushing every single boundary imaginable. Generally this is happening at the same time his sister is crying in my arms. It is exhausting. It is trying and it is hard. But it is beautiful and rewarding.

But that means that even on the hardest days, even when I feel like I just can't solve a single problem or navigate a single melt-down,  they give me the love and passion and will to try again. And when I have a bad day, when I go to bed regretting a word or an action, they give me a new day with a new chance to be better. 

Today I Chose Happiness

Today my toddler was grumpy. A two year old, grumpy? I know, it's insane. But he was. Not just a little grumpy. He was all out tantruming, hitting, kicking, scary grumpy. 

His 2.5 week old sister is gassy and cluster feeding which makes a grumpy toddler much more fun than usual. YSo after an intense cuddling session I unloaded my plan. "Wanna watch a show?" was of course met with an enthusiastic "yeah!" and ended all tears. 

Until he couldn't decide which show to watch. Cue meltdown. Somehow, as only toddlers can manage, this turned into an all out fight. Which turned into lots of awesome toddler screaming. All moms love being screamed at, right? And that folks, led to a declaration. "Okay! No shows today." What did I just say?! Holding my ground often means my plans of an "easy day" go out the window. 

I was exasperated. I was exhausted. I was feeling the anger well up inside of me and I was so close to tears myself. 

And I made a choice. 

Instead of giving in and getting mad, and frustrated and short--I chose to still make today happy. 

Which is so so hard for me. When I get mad, I'm mad. It's really hard for me to change that frame of mind. This often leads to me being short and distant with whoever it is that gets me to that point. 

So I decided to get over it. To free myself of feeling that anger (which as soon as that sweet little tantruming toddlers head rests on his pillow tonight will surely have turned to mom guilt) and try to salvage the day for the three of us. 

Instead of being short and distant I decided to be loving. 

Instead of losing my temper (which I like to think happens to us all) I chose to keep my cool. 

Instead of sticking him in his room and crying we broke out the Nemo bath toys he picked out last night at target. While the baby napped we played in the bath, blew bubbles and danced. 

And you know what? I wasn't angry anymore. 

I wasn't frustrated. I wasn't close to tears or wishing for bedtime. 

As we looked at and named all of the Finding Dory characters on the bathtub tile for the millionth time I felt that familiar heaviness in my heart. I felt the love for this difficult stubborn little boy swell. And I smiled. 

By making one small choice to choose happiness we both were able to make what could have been an exhausting and downright crummy night into something good. Something fun. 

It's hard sometimes. I feel like being a mom means giving up your right to be upset or frustrated. And it does. There is definitely a time to feel those things--but sometimes it also isn't. Sometimes that human reaction robs us of these otherwise perfect moments.  

I'm far from perfect. I have no clue what I'm doing most of the time. Tomorrow maybe I'll yell. Tomorrow maybe I'll give in and feel defeated.

But today I chose happiness. Maybe I did a whole "fake it till you make it" thing--but it worked. ❤️

 
 

natural birth...ouch!

Let me start by saying I LOVED my epidural with Thatcher. Seriously, it was great. That little button you get to push? A thing of beauty. That being said, after I had thatcher I never felt like I had experienced labor. I didn't truly felt like I'd been an active participant in my birth. 

So as soon as I found out I was pregnant with Olivia I decided I wanted the whole experience this time. I spent months reading countless birth stories and experiences, books, breathing techniques and blogs. I was so prepared. I had this! Easy peasy. 

HAHHAHA. oh, sorry. 

On the morning of July 15th we got to the hospital at 545 in the morning. Id been having contractions basically all night and hadn't slept more than a few hours. Some of that was probably due to the fact that I knew I'd be spending the day away from thatcher soon which made me anxious and sad. 

After getting hooked up to the monitors I was told my contractions were already coming every 3-4 minutes. We decided to stay and walk around the hospital and wait for Dr. Bierer to come. I was still contracting around 8:30 or so when he arrived so I had him break my water to speed things up. He broke my water and then together he and Jeff gave me a priesthood blessing, which was amazing. I'm so grateful to have a husband and a doctor who are able to give me that comfort and strength in a time of serious need.

After my water was broken I labored on my own for about 2-2.5 hours. While still consistent my contractions weren't getting too much closer together so we decided to do just a bit of pitocin to get my body in a 2 minute pattern. 

People aren't kidding when they say pitocin is ROUGH. Being hooked up to the iv and monitors was so hard. I wanted to walk and move and get in the bath, but I couldn't which made those contractions come crashing down all the harder. I had been breathing through them and really using and appreciating my birth affirmations up until this point but it started to get pretty painful. My labor wasn't in my back like I'd expected, it was in my front. Almost like I had to pee SO SO SO badly every time. There wasn't much massaging or rubbing I could do to help it because it was right where she was. So, I screamed. BOY, did I scream. Loudly. Incoherently. Unabashed screaming. My sweet friend Jessica was there and while Jeff massaged my back and shoulders, swayed and rocked with me and wet my face with a wash cloth she cheered me on and offered different positions that may help. 

In my agony I shot down every wonderful suggestion she had. I. Was. Miserable. 

But my goal was the bath. I really really wanted that bath. I'd heard wonderful magical things about laboring in water. I needed the water. After I made it through the worst of the pitocin contractions, I still had to stay hooked up to the monitor for thirty agonizing minutes. It was torture and I begged, earnestly now, for drugs. 

Finally I was able to get in the bath. Before I got in my delivery nurse said, "if you feel like you have to push or poop at all you CANNOT get in the bath!" Of course I didn't, i said. 

I lied. I lied so badly. BUT GUYS! I earned that freaking bath! I was only at 5 cm dilated anyway, so I had time. 

Haha! Time. Right. 

So I got into my bath, which did help a lot. I still screamed loudly during my contractions, but it was more tolerable. I think I only had about 2 contractions in the bath. Then, I started to push. I can't describe it, but I really felt strongly that I needed to push. I couldn't even think about what it meant, I just had to. I told Jessica weakly and at first she thought I was mistaken. No way, I'm only at a five. Then I must have said it more urgently because she ran to call the nurses in. 

They knew baby would be coming soon so they'd began to set up the delivery things. Jeff and Jessica cheered me on and assured me that we were so close--look at all the delivery prep! I got into bed and my nurse checked me again. At this point my contractions were peaking--I was so so so done. I looked Jeff in the eyes and again BEGGED for that epidural. I did NOT want to do this. WHY was I doing this?! I was at 8 cm now and though they said I could have the epidural (which Jeff realized I was so serious about and actually asked them for it, too) they said it wouldn't kick in. I was close. In my mind I'm thinking "well I'm not paying for it not to work. Screw it, I'm dying anyway." I'm a little dramatic. So, we decided no epidural. 

Suddenly, the urge to push was completely and totally overwhelming. While I was in fact pushing i wasn't in control--my body was pushing that baby out regardless. I screamed that she was coming and the nurses scrambled around. Some finishing up delivery prep, some calling for my doctor, and my delivery nurse checking me. In the few minutes I asked for the epidural I had reached 10 cm. the nurses screamed for me to stop pushing but I really couldn't. It went against everything my body was doing. 

I should point out though that at this point I had no idea that my baby was being born. They kept telling me not to push and I kept yelling at them, "IM JUST POOPING! Let me poop!" Which I believed. Until Jessica and my nurse got inches from my face and said "Taylor. That's your baby's head. Stop!" So I guess if I had to equate child birth to anything, it's the #2. 😉

Also, any fear I had of pooping in labor was out the window in that moment that o literally thought I was. 

Okay, proceed. 

They called my doctor again, called the on call doctor and the charge nurse. I remember hearing my nurse saying that she didn't feel comfortable delivering the baby and I had to wait. Uh- yeah right. So while I'm pushing and screaming (I was literally screaming "get out" at the top of my lungs) my delivery nurse pushed Olivia's head back in. BACK INTO MY BODY! Which freaking hurt because, hello, not how that's supposed to happen. Two times Olivia's head was born and two times the nurse held her back in. 

Finally the on call doctor sauntered in. He literally sauntered, slowly, into the room and proceeded to make small talk with me. I snapped "I DO NOT WANT TO TALK TO YOU" while the nurse yelled that he didn't have time and she was coming. He rushed to get a gown and gloves on while I continued to push. He barely caught Olivia. My legs weren't even in the stirrups, she just came out on the bed and he cut the cord. Which really upset me too because we'd opted for delayed cord clamping but I figured since it was kind of a rushed situation what could you do. As soon as the cord was cut my doctor walked in and finished up. 

From the time I got out of the bath and into bed to the time she was totally born was TWO MINUTES. Which probably would have been more like 30 seconds had they not kept her from coming out. I didn't realize it was even that fast until I watched the video that Jessica took. 

It was so intense and fast and insane. And while I was pretty miserable during transition, I'm so glad that Jeff and Jessica kept me on track and didn't let me get the epidural. I'm not sure yet if it's an experience that I'll have again, but it's an experience I'm so grateful to have had. 

I have so much respect for birth. Natural, C-section, epidural. It's all so amazing that were able to house and birth these tiny humans. Our bodies are seriously perfect.

And now almost two weeks later were so in love with our Olivia Ona. She's a sweet, mild girl who eats ferociously and snuggles perfectly. 

Her name makes her even more special to us, too. Ona comes from Jeffs grandmother who is one of the strongest, most intelligent and caring women I've been blessed to know. We can only hope that our little Ona will be like her namesake. 

 

 

 

Just a Mom

Something happened to me the other day. It's something that's happened a handful of times in the last two years and it feels like it's time to speak up. 

I recently reconnected with an old friend. After catching up a bit and talking about life he asked if I was super successful like he'd thought I'd be when we were younger. After hearing that I quit college to stay at home with my kids he said, "so wait.. you're just a mom?" I have to admit, it stung. Even though it's not the first time that someone who isn't caught up with my current life has made a comment indicating that I have "given up" what could have been a great career or "let myself quit" school, which I was actually pretty good at, it still hurt. 

I am not "just a mom." I have not "given up" anything. In fact, the way I see it I've gained a great deal more.

"Just a mom" seriously implies that what I'm doing isn't enough, important or valued. "Just a mom" means that I've somehow lowered my standards or my ambition and settled for something not as worthy. In reality, isn't being "just a mom" more than that? I'm not just cleaning up spills and building block towers. I'm not just kissing knees and washing diapers. I'm choosing to put aside most of my previous identity, my time, my sleep, and every bit of me to raise another human who will (hopefully) become a productive and moral adult.

And in my eyes, I haven't "given up" all that much in the process. 

I've gained more patience, more love, and more of an understanding of sacrifice than I could have ever imagined. I've learned so many things outside the realm of academic knowledge and I've been given the gift of time with my babies. 

School is wonderful. It's great--but it isn't for everyone. I'm extremely proud to be a mother. I'm happier not having my degree than I can even explain- and in the process I've found things I'm truly truly passionate about.

My life is more than "just a mom."