The Night Before Forever

It was the night of December 17, 2004, and I remember wandering around my empty room, reliving many moments of the last 14 or so years that room had been my home.  It was the night before my wedding day, the night before I would become a wife and pledge my forever love to my best friend.
I don't remember much about what I did during the day of the 17th - there were probably last minute wedding details to button up, hanging out with my family, finishing packing up my room.  It was when the sun set and reality hit that it was my last night, alone, in my bedroom, my sanctuary.  I would never again have a space all to myself.  I basically had the entire upstairs of my parent's home to myself, an luxury very few people get to experience.  My brother being seven years my senior, he was out of the house long before I was, so I got a lot of alone time upstairs.  I loved my room. I loved the color and the way it was set up.  It was still filled with childhood trinkets, figurines on my dresser, stuffed animals on my bed.  I still slept with my trusty Bearbo that I was going to have a really, really hard time giving up.  I was 21 and on the brink of a very big, very scary change.  I was leaving home, leaving my mom behind. I was excited and scared and nervous and, well, it was the moment I dreamt of since I was a little girl having conversations with my girl friends about who we would someday marry.

Walking around my room, it felt bittersweet.  I didn't want to leave, and yet I did.  Was I making the right decision? Was I ready?  I was 21 - why did I still feel like a vulnerable 14 year old kid trying to make big life decisions?  Matt and I talked about this day for years!  I wasn't having cold feet - just grieving my childhood and trying to figure out exactly what came next.

I thought I wouldn't get any sleep that night.  Our engagement was exactly two months long, and when we set the date with the Boise temple, there weren't a lot of openings (apparently the holiday season is a popular time to get married).  I actually ended up with a wonderful, beautiful night's sleep and I felt rested and ready to conquer the day.
We ended up scheduling a 9 am wedding for lack of options, which meant we had to be there about 7 in the morning.  Which meant I had to get up about 5 in the morning, shower, do my make-up, and head down to the hair salon I had been going to for many years so my rock-star hair dresser could work her magic with my hair for my wedding.  She awesomely agreed to meet us there about 6 am, and did an amazing, beautiful job with my hair.  It was so much fun to talk with her about all the hair styles she had done for me over the years for proms and other school dances.

After hair was done, my mom and I began the long (yet short) drive to the temple.  Matt and I met in a little room for some quick counsel before our sealing, and then we parted ways so I could get into my wedding dress.  The bride's room is beautiful, and I felt like a princess.  After I dressed and was ready to go, I walked into that sealing room, thinking I would be scared and nervous, but I felt very calm and confident.  This is exactly what I wanted, exactly what I had been waiting for, exactly the reason I had let Matt go off to Argentina two and a half years before, knowing he would come back to me and this would be our fate.  It was happening. It was real.

If I may digress for just a moment, much of 2004 was very difficult for me.  I had a mental breakdown that April that lasted months and took a very long time to recover from.  It hit me completely out of the blue, and honestly, I was not confident I was going to survive it.  It was that bad.  Luckily, my mom held my hand and helped me through it, and I came out of it very, very slowly.  It was rough times, and  I'm pretty sure I took years of my mom's life.

Shortly after I found myself in a pretty good mental state, it was time for Matt to come home, and I was so nervous.  Would he still love me?  Would it still be the same as it was before?  After the initial greeting, hugs, and after a day or two, for me, it was like he never left.  We fell back into life and love just as we had been before, this time a little older and with a wedding on the horizon.

Fast forward to December 18th again.  Kneeling across from him at the alter, looking into the mirrors of eternity, promising forever was definitely a defining moment in my life.  Of all the advice I ever received when it came to marriage, what my Grandpa Nick told me stuck with me the most, and it's what I tell others who are about to be married:  Listen closely to your vows, your promises.  Know exactly what you're agreeing to, and make sure you commit yourself entirely to those promises, no matter what.  More meaningful and significant words had never been spoken.  I listened and promised my husband and God, in front of family and friends, that I would forever keep these promises and be by his side forever, and not just in this life, and into the eternities.  In those moments I felt the love and support of not only the family and friends who surrounded us, but also loved ones who came before us, centuries before us, and the blessing of those who would come long after we are gone from this earth.  It's an indescribable feeling really.

After promises were made and paperwork signed, we walked out of the temple hand in hand, husband and wife FINALLY, into the frigid cold December air for pictures.  It was COLD.  And WINDY.  And I had a short-sleeve dress!  After a few pictures, we followed our photographer over to the capital building in Boise, where we took some beautiful and elegant wedding day photographs surrounded by marble and beautiful decorations.  Afterword, we raced all the way to Marsing, where we held our reception.  We put on a family luncheon and decorated for our ring ceremony and reception to be held that evening.  It was a lot of work, and by then, after getting up at 5 am, and wearing a very heavy dress and heels nonstop all day, I was tired.  But there was still work to be done, more wedding to happen, and guests to greet.  Unfortunately, something in the food we got started to make people sick.  Several people ended up with food poisoning that night (luckily not me!!!), though they were able to hold it in and hold it together, mostly, until after the reception was over.  Matt and I took off right after the reception, and headed off into the sunset, happily ever after.

Well, after twelve years I can tell you that every moment is not "happily ever after", but I can assure you that we have a wonderful marriage, we are STILL best friends, and we have a wonderful life together.  Life changes.  Love even changes, but it doesn't affect how much you love that person.  It morphs over time, changing from the wild crazy hormone-driven teenage love you first experience when you're 14 and starry eyed, when you stay on the phone for HOURS on end after all conversation has been exhausted but neither of you want to hang up.  Love continues to grow over the high school years - we essentially got to grow up together, go through some of the tough high school years together, attend school dances and church dances and go on lots and lots of dates.  When it came time for Matt to graduate from high school, I had a really hard time.  He was my everything at school, my lunch partner, my hug between classes, and suddenly, he wasn't there anymore. I was totally lost most of my senior year.  It felt lonely.  The friends I had since childhood had all kind of found other friends, boyfriends, and interests in school, and I wasn't really sure who I was anymore. I missed lots of school.  I had to appeal to get my credits in order to graduate.  Luckily I was a pretty bright student and my grades didn't suffer too terribly, but it was tough to show up to school every day without him there.

Then my graduation came, which was very exciting and awesome, but was slightly tainted with the knowledge that soon, Matt would be leaving for his mission.  He got the call to Argentina, and I again found myself what felt like alone. I still loved him, but it was distant and different.   I remember laying in bed crying the day he left, and my mom came up to comfort me and I said to her, "What am I supposed to do for two years without him?"
For someone stronger than myself that would mean putting on my big girl pants, pulling it together and making something of myself, but I fell into a pretty deep depression and had no desire to do anything. I flunked out of my first semester of college (which I eventually redeemed myself for and graduated with a business degree with honors). It was a rough time.

Over all of the time, our love changed, our relationship changed.  I actually prefer the word "seasons" to change - our love went through different seasons, as it continues to do over the course of life.  Right now we are in the season of work, raising small children, and chaos and minutiae of family life. We tend to have very little time alone, and often feel the stress of a one-income family life and the sometimes crazy psycho-mom episodes I go through as a stay-at-home mom of three young kids.  That being said, I wouldn't change a thing.  Sometimes I think about what our lives would be like if we made different choices along the way, Maybe moved away, had no kids, had fewer kids, became career people rather than family people.  I never regret anything though. I feel like we are in the time and season we are supposed to be in, and I love this journey we are on together.

We have been very blessed during our marriage.  My husband is a great provider, has a wonderful job, and is dedicated to his education, his work, and his family.  We have enjoyed health and worldly comforts, a safe neighborhood, and faith in God.  There will always be hard times - no one gets out of this life without experiencing loss, disappointment, frustration, loneliness, guilt,and depression, but it's in between those times that we really live life, really get to enjoy our many blessings and thank our Father in Heaven for what we have been given. Healthy, happy kids.  A warm home.  The comforts of family life. Love, really honest to goodness love that grows and grows and grows.  I love our life together.

When you get married, you dream of the things to come.  My dream was always to earn a degree, travel some, start a family, and live "the dream" (which I find is different for everyone).  I find that I am living my dream.  Even on the "bad" days when I cry and think I might have it hard, I remind myself of the life we have built together, and I am ever thankful.  Yesterday, today, and always, Matthew is my best friend, the love of my life, and I look forward to the rest of this lifetime, and the next.

(By the way, I still have Bearbo - he is in a box in the garage, and I often think of bringing him inside and using him as a pillow.)

Melancholia at the Gyno

Before I get into what I want to say, I have to acknowledge the feelings of some of my friends who will read this.  Dear friends who have been unable to bring children into this world, friends who have watched their dear babies leave this world, friends who have beautiful children, but find that parenthood isn't anything like what they dreamed it would be.  You know, those unexpected curve balls - medical diagnosis - that you think never happen to you.  I really am thinking about all of you as I write this, and I feel kind of guilty writing it, but there are some serious feelings going on that I have to get out of my head and leaky eyes aren't sufficient.  I'm also thinking about those who are right where I'm at right now.

So here we go:

The last time I visited my Ob/Gyn was two years ago for my last post-natal appointment.  30 months of my life were spent carrying babies in my body, and while I can't say that I particularity enjoyed those months, they brought something beautiful and amazing into my life and changed me in ways I never thought possible.  Becoming a parent is really the most eye-opening experience to find out who you are, what you're made of, how little sleep you can survive on, and what your true potential is.

My last post-natal appointment also included a discussion about the tubal ligation I'd had the day after I delivered my last baby.  Had I had any problems with it?  No.  Was I feeling okay about it emotionally?  Yeah, mostly.  I had some pain still, but that was remedied with a short antibiotic and everything was fine.

Today I visited the office again.  The same office where I have gone for the last 12 years or so, many of those appointments discussing baby movement, uterine size, listening to that fast little heartbeat that isn't mine yet is still a part of me.  It's pretty amazing.  I had no qualms or concerns about my appointment today - it was a routine exam that hadn't been done in a few years, and I like to be proactive about my health. (Granted, I wanted to lose about 50 lbs before I had to go stand on the scale in the doctor's office, but that didn't happen.)

Anyway, as soon as the elevator door opened to that third floor I had visited so often, my throat caught and I had an overwhelming urge to cry.  It was so weird.  I wasn't there for babies or ultrasounds or heartbeats or even just pee in a cup.  There was none of that, and I found myself really not wanting to be there.  Never again would I enter excitedly awaiting the sound of that little fluttering heartbeat, or lay back uncomfortably on the table while the doctor pokes and prods at my stomach to feel the baby's position and how he or she was growing.

Today, my exam lasted all of 5 minutes, renewed a prescription for birth control (BIRTH CONTROL of all things, which I only take to control the acne I've been battling since I was 12 years old), and went on my merry little way.

I about lost it in the elevator going back down to the first floor.  I remember just how that elevator smelled (I didn't particularly enjoy that smell during my pregnancies) , but it was something familiar. Something that reminded me of something that would never be again.

When I got home a short time later, I forgot about my sadness as I dived into a few episodes of the Gilmore Girls (I am almost done with the first season!)  The rest of the day was okay, and I enjoyed spending time with my beautiful children this evening, watching a few Halloween shows on Amazon Prime.

After putting the kids to bed, I treated myself to a few more episodes of the Gilmore Girls because it makes me happy, ate a handful of peanut M&Ms (because chocolate makes things better), then went upstairs to check on my kids before heading to bed.  As I walked into my youngest's room, I was overcome with emotion and found myself crumbling into a state of ugly-cry.  I did my best to hold my snorting and sniffing back as I kissed my sleeping toddler goodnight, then moved on to Kellen's room.  He sleeps so soundly and quietly now after his tonsillectomy.  I was remembering what a momma's boy he used to be, and now how he's so independent and does things on his own terms.  I planted a kiss on my little boy's face, then moved on to my daughter's room.  All of my children hold a special place in my heart, but she held the first place as my first baby, and I think that's something special.   I found myself missing my tiny baby girl terribly. She is growing up into a beautiful girl, and I would never hold her back, but I so longed to take her in my arm and rock her and sing to her a lullaby.

After kissing Audrey (trying to avoid getting my tears and snot on her face), I was walking down the hall with my iphone light on, and stopped at my wall that has the painting of Jesus cradling a baby, with my babies' newborn pictures underneath, each of them chubby cheeked and perfect.  I miss those days so, so much. Even though those multiple-times-a- night feedings and diaper changes are exhausting, they were some of my favorite times. It was just me and my baby, skin to skin, face to face, only room for love and affection.

Do I regret having a tubal ligation to prevent future pregnancies? No, not particularly.  Pregnancy was darn hard, each one having their own unique challenges and discomforts.  But I do absolutely mourn the fact that I will never again bring another life into this world, to hold and rock and marvel at and love and sniff and nibble on their chubby little cheeks. Absolutely. I miss it so, so much. I really have no desire to start over again, yet I can't help but mourn the loss of that most important thing I was put on this Earth to do, to bring life into this world, into my world.   I cried and cried tonight after nighttime kisses and staring at those newborn pictures of my kids, but I also realized  how incredibly blessed I am to have the opportunity to bring them into the world and raise them and love them. Not everyone gets that chance.

I don't know that I'll ever get over the fact that I won't have any more kids.  I am confident in my decision to not have more, yet it still makes me profoundly sad, if that makes any sense to you at all. I know it will to some of you.

And so, I'll go through the natural parenting process, watching my three little blessings grow and mature and learn and hopefully, hopefully make this crazy world a better place.  Right now, that's enough, and I know how blessed I am, and I'm truly thankful for it.

Who knows, maybe something crazy and unexpected will happen in the future.  I wouldn't complain.  (That's not true - I probably would complain - a lot.) :)

Audrey

Kellen

Camden

My Dusty Rocking Chair

Something happened today that made me very sad.

With the older two kids at school, Camden and I spent much of the day together.  He has been sick (I suspect RSV), so we have taken it pretty easy.

We were in his room together this morning, playing with his blocks and jack-in-the-box (which he finds hilarious), having some fun.  After a while I let him play on his own while I tidied up his room a bit.

There was a clean towel laying on the floor, accidentally tossed aside at some point, so I picked up the towel, half-heartedly folded it and tossed it on the back of my leather rocker in Camden's room.

That's when I noticed it: dust. A thick layer of dust covering the back of the rocker.  I stared for a minute at that layer of dust, trying to remember when Camden last held still long enough for me to rock him before bed.  He hasn't really wanted to slow down and read books, and when I have sat down with him, he quickly grows impatient  and wants to get down and play.

It has been a while since we relaxed together in that rocker, singing or reading books.

This realization made me very sad.  My baby, my last one, is growing too fast.

I quickly grabbed a wet wipe and removed the layer of dust, but the sadness remained. I tried grabbing Camden and settling into the chair with him and a book, but he wouldn't have it, even being sick.

I am going to try every day to rock him.  I don't want our rocking years to be over.  I am not ready for that.