Capturing a Moment

This isn't a long post, but I wanted to include our annual family pictures on this blog. We met up with a few old friends this past week, people we haven't sat and talked to for years, and it made me realize how quickly my life is passing into memory. We haven't yet been married five years, but when we started talking about all that's happened--I've kept TWO kids alive for years now, and my babies are 3 years and 1 years old--I once again felt that crazy-passionate compulsion to grab a moment in time and tug it out of the procession and just hold that instant, that smile, this hug, those tears, that discovery, and be able to experience it as it existed in that moment before it fades away into vivid but unreachable memory. 

And so we have family pictures--definitely not fulfilling that driving desire, but at least capturing my growing girls and their intense and limitless possibility and passion. 

They are adorable, even if Sara's face has tear-streaks, snot, and saliva in most of her pictures :)

A Pearl of Great Price

My sweet daughter turned 1 year old this weekend. With a year of her life already nested in memory and out of grasp, I've been brought this week to think about the beginnings of her time with us, especially in light of my dear friend and college roommate Bonnie’s passing out of this life. The intense and painful and surreal passing between veils, between "out there" and here, tangibly on Earth--birthing and dying.

Last May I was HUGE! I gained 50 pounds while carrying Sara (I was often asked if I was carrying twins or how long I was overdue). We’d just moved into our new home (yay, moving 9 months pregnant) and I was out-on-the-town for a girls' night with my mom-in-law and sisters-in-law to celebrate one of their birthdays. We laughed over pizza and speculated on baby's due date and what would set me into labor. I remember standing outside of the restaurant forever and chatting and feeling really restless—I was disappointed that I hadn't gone into labor (although I’d learned not to expect it on my due date from my first pregnancy) and it was getting late and I was anxious to get home and go to bed. My newly married (3-weeks!) sister-in-law drove me home and we laughed about babies, etc.

We pulled in the driveway and as I got out of the car….WHOOSH! Mid-sentence I just stop and gasp as my water broke all over my new front lawn. My sweet sister-in-law starts freaking out a little “Lauran, what’s wrong, Lauran, what happened? Did your water just break?!?! What do I do?!?!?!” She ran in to get me a towel and to tell Dustin (who had JUST managed to get our almost 2 year old daughter to sleep). I jumped in the shower and took some time to get ready, dreading the coming night just a little bit—I was so tired and wasn't sure I could really deliver a baby that night. I really enjoyed having a natural delivery for my first child but told Dustin on the way to the hospital that I was planning on getting an epidural for this one for sure.

I was nervous.

When my water had partially broken my first labor contractions began right away. It had been an hour since my water broke this time and still I felt nothing. What if they had to induce me? What if this wasn't really labor and something had gone wrong? What if, what if, what if?

About 10:30 pm we arrived at the hospital and as we walked up to L&D I felt the first stirrings of a contraction and actually got excited. Good, I thought, I really am in labor. Whew. Sara’s labor was actually quite calm, especially the first few hours. My mom was with Rosie, my sisters had other plans, and so it ended up being my husband and my dad for the first hour or so—rather humorous to have my all-male cheer team :) Dustin got to sleep a bit and I laid down and tried to get some rest. Around 1:00 am the doctor (we were SO lucky to get the same doctor and same nurse as Rosie’s birth—they both made such a difference!) came in, cleared the rest of the water sac, and recommended I get up and start walking around. I hadn't asked for an epidural yet because, well, it wasn't as painful as I remembered labor being yet. It was still do-able.

As it began getting harder we decided to try out the tub. The tub was awesome and things were progressing well…too  well. Before I knew it it was time to push—but I was still soaking in the warm water. Looking back, it was a funny moment—getting out while trying to get dressed and really trying not to push. During one especially strong surge I knelt down on the ground and my nurse, for the first time in two deliveries, got a little bit of anxious panic in her voice: “No, Lauran, we do not want to have the baby here on the bathroom floor--we've got  to make it to the bed!” I actually managed to laugh and assure her we wouldn't have a bathroom baby. In the moments it took to get to the bed the baby was already crowning. The doctor rushed into the room and everyone was shouting at me to stop pushing, to pant or cross my eyes or do anything but push while he got dressed for delivery. Yeah, it had been a relatively low-pain labor, but now it was off-the charts--WOW it was crazy painful. I got onto the bed around 3:00 am and Sara came at 3:08 am. Most painful 8 minutes of my life, but she came so quickly and it was so exhilarating to have her come out to us and come directly to me (and the doctor had no problem catching her this time).

She was a BIG bundle of joy: my on-her-due-date baby was 9lbs. 13oz. Bigger than a lot of 1 month-olds :) No wonder her coming out hurt so bad.

I didn't get to hold her long as they had to give her some oxygen and clear her stomach. But even with a clear airway she hardly cried at all—even after the traumatic and certainly painful birthing process my sweet girl was calm and gentle. I'd been so worried that I couldn't love another kid like I loved Rosie--she had made me a mom, and we shared something special. And then Sara came and brought such a sweet joy into our family that I don't know what we ever did without her. She is my calming strength and serene joy. She has been such a blessing, with her thoughtful gaze and her big beautiful eyes. 

Easter

A post in which my girls are too sick to be allowed into church nursery, leading to a morning at the Provo LDS Temple. Also pictures of our fun neighborhood Easter Egg Hunt, in which I see yet again the amazing results that people with a little creativity and a lot of desire to accept and include everyone can create a beautiful moment and memory

Mother's Day

We've got a house full of sickies. What a great way to spend Mother's Day: I got hit Friday with the flu, Dustin followed suit Saturday, and the girls have been developing coughs in addition to Rosie's ear infection... *pasted smile*

It was actually, surprisingly, a wonderful day. We were up early at church because Dustin was asked to speak about the importance of families. The talk was beautiful, and his eloquence in describing the purpose and blessings of having a family spread a happy sheen over the rest of our day. And I got to thinking about my past few Mother's Days....

My first Mother's Day, barely 6-months married, wasn't all that eventful. I think Dustin did buy me flowers, but mostly because during our first year of marriage I read a lot into not getting presents and other such showy signs of affection (poor guy). It was the first Mother's Day that I could have conceivably (pun intended) been expecting a child, and I remember wondering that weekend if I ever would someday be a mom, if--although I'd grown up expecting to become one--I could really fill that role or if I'd even be able to have kids. Lots of thinking, worrying, wondering about the future...

My next Mother's Day found me HUGE! I was 40-weeks-and-1-day pregnant with our first little girl and officially "overdue"--I'd been expecting (again, love the puns) to be a Mom this Mother's Day for, oh, eight months by this point and was EXTREMELY disappointed that I was still not a MOM, especially when Dustin gave me the flowers that he'd bought thinking I would be one by this point (pregnant lady reasoning..I guess technically I still "qualified" as a Mom, a fact my husband pointed out to me multiple times that day). I'd tried EVERYTHING that weekend--jumping, walking, yoga, castor oil (whoops), and every other wives-tale you've heard of--yeah, I'm pretty sure we went through them all, and still no labor-and-delivery signs popping up to greet me. Waited all day for it to happen--I think I ended up staying up until midnight just to make sure she really wasn't going to come on Mother's Day and make me a mom for this year's celebration (My baby decided to wait until I was a week overdue and then came at 41 weeks, hours before I would have been scheduled to be induced).

Mother's Day #3--I had an almost 1 year old and realized that Mother's Day, when your baby knows about four words and is easily distracted by movement, sugar, and wide open spaces, is still mostly for celebrating your mom and mom-in-law who live less than 30 minutes away from you. Still got my nice bunch of flowers from the local grocery store's bargain-bouquet rack :)

Last year, I was once again 39-and-counting weeks pregnant, and wondering if I'd be spending this Mother's Day in the hospital (nope). We'd just moved days before into our new home (yeah, moving 39-weeks pregnant is not all that fun, especially with an almost-2 year old "helping") and we were recovering.....and prepping. Two May babies, 2-years-minus-3-days apart.

This year, my almost-3 and almost-1 year old daughters didn't make any crafts for me. They didn't get up and make me breakfast (we are all sick and have church at 9:00, so we were lucky to get up and there as it was). I don't think either of them wished me a Happy Mother's Day (husband still came through with the flowers though). And yet all day I've been so incredibly grateful for them, for this experience, this transformation that motherhood is. Some people are born patient, some people quickly learn to be kind, some women innately know how to be fun and loving to children. Instead, Rosie and Sara have me, and every day, through their patience, the three of us learn what it means to be part of a family, to be nice to each other all day long (is Dad home yet?), to speak with patience and love and consideration, to stop pulling hair and throwing blocks and spilling food and spanking and rolling eyes, to revel in each and every moment we have together each day. I like the me that is emerging. Motherhood hasn't forced me to "lose" myself, but every week as I look back I do see the sharp bits weathering down and, hopefully, the hidden motherly tendencies polished up, and the fierce and consuming love and pride I have for my kids really tempers my temper and my soul into something that might be worth having around in this life and the eternities.

Moab

  In March we took another family vacation--Arches National Park. We were in Moab for a race (just the five-miler--no half marathon this year!) and took a day off work to make it a long and highly anticipated weekend.

  It became our first parental experience with vomit in the car. (no graphic photos included)  Sometimes I am so clueless as a mom. We got up early to head down to Moab with our first stop being Provo bakery. What fun parents, right? Rosie was super excited to see the donuts and chose a heavily sprinkled specimen--and then in the course of ten minutes only managed to consume three sprinkles. For anyone who has seen the manifestation of Rosie's inherited sweet-tooth, this should have been a red flag. But no, we drove off (and happily consumed her donut for her). Halfway there she starts crying and telling me she has to go potty and that her stomach hurts and then the moment comes and my mom-stincts finally kick in and I start shouting "Where is a bag, where is a bag, DUSTIN WHY DON'T WE HAVE A BAG IN OUR CAR?!?!?!?!!" And up it comes before I find anything and out comes my lightning-fast mom hand and the damage is done. Luckily she'd felt too sick to have much in her stomach so the mess was mostly isolated to her clothes and car seat. I'll leave the rest up to your imagination except for commenting that the girl is tough and managed to have her only other vomit-related moment while in a national park visitor's center bathroom. What a rock star.

Even sick, Rosie tackled the rocks like a champ.

I can't believe how quickly my kids are growing up. Sara was walking as a 9-month-old so every moment we spent out of the car she wanted to be on the ground and modeling her cute baby-waddle without our helping hands. Needless to say, our hiking was pretty slow.

Arches National Park is breathtaking, and even when our feet got tired, we were all loving the view.

And we got to meet up with some of our best friends and enjoy the parks together...well, honestly, we spent most of our time together in the hotel room. Their 3 year old managed to get sick on their way over from Colorado, so our sickies and babies preferred games and chatting and eating yummies in the hotel.

But it was a fun trip and one we hope to do again soon! Moab is stunning and lifelong friends are hard to come by.