Louise Mae (part 1- pregnancy)

My first public "belly shot," at about 14 weeks.

After August's birth- I was a wreck. I had a rough labor and delivery and difficult recovery, which actually jumpstarted an autoimmune disease in my body. (They are usually brought on by stress or sickness.)
In addition to the undiagnosed disease that I was fighting, I also was suffering from undiagnosed postpartum depression, which made me angry and irritable. I loved all my kids, but I was feeling overwhelmed and exhausted. I was physically and emotionally drained.
I recognized my depression about 6 months after August was born, and was able to address it. And a little over a year after his birth, at the poorest health of my life, I was diagnosed with Celiacs Disease and was able to start healing physically.

So it wasn't until August was about 15 months old that I felt like I had my own body and mind back.

I wanted to have more children eventually, but the idea of having another baby any time soon sent me into a panic. The exhaustion, sickness, strain and pain of pregnancy was terrifying to me, as was the idea that it might take me years to recover from it. And I had two four year olds and an eighteen month old to take care of, too!

We also had just bought a house, so in addition to taking care of me and our kids- Travis was faced with the financial strain of paying a mortgage and paying for lots of new medical bills. So Travis was even less interested in having babies than I was.

In October of 2015, we started listening to General Conference (a two day world-wide broadcast by leaders of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints), and having another baby was not even on our radar at all. We were not pondering or praying about it. We were not looking for inspiration as to whether or not we should try for more kids.

Elder Nelson gave a talk called, A Plea to My Sisters. As he spoke about the importance of women in the fight for good, I felt the spirit very strongly. Then he said, "We need women who have a bedrock understanding of the doctrine of Christ and who will use that understanding to teach and help raise a sin-resistant generation... We need women who have the courage and vision of our Mother Eve."
As he said these words, I felt a very strong spiritual impression.
First, I heard in my mind the words of Mother Eve saying, "It is better for us to pass through sorrow."
And I felt a very strong impression that I needed to begin preparing for another baby- and that it would be difficult and even heartbreaking.

I almost laughed out loud. I was not interested in another baby! God knew this. And if he was trying to convince me that I should have another baby, why would he do it while telling me that this baby would bring me sorrow?

Despite my annoyance at my Heavenly Parents for giving me such direct and unappealing instruction- I had felt the spirit very strongly. I knew what was expected of me. Over the next few days, I began (rather half-heartedly, I admit) to pray that I would feel a desire to be obedient. I did not ask, "Should we have another baby?" (I knew the answer already), instead I prayed - often saying things like, "I don't want another baby now. If I am supposed to have another child, help me feel a desire to do so."

I prayed like this for about three months, and although I didn't realize it at the time, my heart was beginning to soften. I had told Travis of my impression- but since he didn't want another baby yet either, and since he had not received any such prompting, I believe that his prayers concerning the new baby were even more half-hearted than mine. Only occasionally in our prayers together did we mention the fact that we were supposed to be preparing for another baby. And I don't think I told him that this baby had been promised to come with sorrow. 

In January of 2016, I was standing in my kitchen with several other women. One of my friends said, "I think I am ready to start trying for another baby."
"So am I!" I said, surprising myself as I said it. And even more surprising, I realized as I spoke that I meant it. I was still very afraid to have another baby (or more specifically, to be pregnant again), but I finally felt like the difficulty of pregnancy would be worth another child.

Now that I felt a desire to have another baby, Travis and I discussed the possibility again. He was still adamantly against having a baby. He wanted to wait another few years- after our home was a little less chaotic. I urged him to pray about it, and we visited the temple together several times and prayed about the baby. He still did not receive any promptings about the baby. Meanwhile, I started to feel an increasing desire to be obedient. I knew what was expected of me, God had given me time to prepare my heart- and now, I wasn't being obedient. I wasn't following instructions. It made me feel anxious and unhappy. God had answered my prayers- I wanted to obey!
Around this time, I also had the almost constant impression that I couldn't find my baby.
I would wake up in the middle of the night, searching half-awake through my sheets and blankets for the baby that I was sure needed to nurse.
When I buckled kids into the car, I was constantly counting, "Grey, Micah, August, and... where's the baby?" More than once, I rushed into the house, shouting to Travis, "We forgot her inside!" or "We're missing someone!"
Only to find myself standing in the kitchen, realizing that I didn't actually have another baby yet. "Who are we missing?" I asked every day, on walks, at the playground, at the store. I kept feeling that one of my children had wandered off- and yet they were all there.

I knew who we were missing.

After a few weeks of this, I felt like I was going crazy. I wrote out a list of all the things I wanted to discuss with Travis, and we sat down together. (I needed a list, because I knew that I would begin crying and have a hard time making points unless I had all my thoughts written down.)

And so we began. I explained that I felt a desire to be obedient. I explained that God wanted us to have another baby. I told him lots of things that were personal and heartbreaking, and I sobbed through the whole conversation.
But the thing I said most often and empathetically was, "She is waiting. She's waiting and she's anxious. I can feel her waiting, and I want her here with us."

Travis wasn't quite ready to agree to having another baby, but he did agree to pray and ponder whole-heartedly and not half-heartedly.

It's a GIRL!

In April, 6 months after I received the impression to prepare myself for another baby- I was pregnant. It had taken Travis and I each about three months to accept the idea of having another child.

My pregnancy was amazing. It was easy, and I felt good. I was able to hike, travel, take care of the boys, and didn't throw up a single time. I felt so blessed- but I also felt worried.
What was this sorrow that I was supposed to prepare for? If the sorrow didn't lie in my pregnancy, then should I expect it in my daughter?
Would be be disabled? Sickly? Would I lose her in childbirth?
I felt panicked as I tried to remember exactly what I had felt when I was prompted with those words, "It is better for us to pass through sorrow."
But over the months, I also felt peace.
I felt reassured that whatever happened, was supposed to happen. God doesn't make mistakes. And if there was something "wrong," it would be better than if everything was "right." It would be what we needed, what was right for our family and our daughter.
As I attended the temple, prayed, and read my scriptures looking for answers - I realized something.
When Eve tells Adam, "It is better for us to pass through sorrow," she isn't talking about a specific event.
She isn't referring to death, disability, or Cain killing Abel. She is talking about life. About mortality. Everything.
It is better for us to be alive and have families, even if it's hard. It is worth any heartbreak.
And I felt sure that God wasn't promising me a big, huge problem. He was promising me a baby.
And babies are hard. Children come wrapped up in heartbreak, in sickness, in sleepless nights, and broken arms, and angry words, and growing up. And it's all worth it.
The sorrow of having children is worth it, because babies also come with more joy than could be imagined by non-parents.
Maybe God was referring to fear that I felt of pregnancy. I needed to overcome that sorrow.
Maybe he meant the sorrow of wanting to be obedient and not being able to.
Maybe he meant the difficulty and pain of childbirth, or the sleepless nights and acid reflux that we're dealing with now.
Maybe there is something big, lurking around the corner. Maybe there is sickness, death, heartbreak and sorrow waiting to spring on us.
But now that we have Louise, I know that he was right. It is better to pass through sorrow. She is worth it. She is worth the heartache that I've already endured for her- and all the heartache that will come, just as all my boys were and are.
I am grateful that God knew what we needed better than we did. I am grateful that he told us to prepare our hearts and home for Louise, even though we were scared- even though it took a long time to find the desire.
Because by the time she got here, we were all anxiously awaiting her. I don't think we could have lasted much longer.

Due Date!

(A note: If you are not a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, you might be confused by our beliefs about Eve. So let me sum them up.
Unlike most other Christian religions, we don't believe that Eve made a great big mistake in the Garden of Eden all those years ago. We believe she made an important and brave decision.
When God told Eve that she would die if she ate the fruit of the tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil- it wasn't a threat. It was an explanation.
Eating the fruit of the tree wouldn't kill Eve, but it would make her mortal. It would introduce grief, pain, and death into the world- but it would also introduce life. Eve and Adam would be able to bear and raise children.  Eve's decision to become a mother was brave and selfless- she gave up the ease and comfort of a painless and eternal life, and it allowed each of us to be born and live and die.
Likewise, all women are able to follow in Eve's footsteps and bring children into mortality- giving everyone a chance to experience life and gain bodies. If you're interested in reading more about Eve, you can read the scriptural account in Moses 4 & 5 - consider it an "extended edition" of Genesis. Or you can read this article about Eve, which is one of my favorite explanations of our beliefs.)

Peace for my soul

As you probably know, I have been struggling with finding peace lately. While most days are so good, I've also spent days feeling angry, overwhelmed, and depressed in the last few months.
One of the things that has brought me a lot of peace is reading (or listening to) talks about Christ, strength, hope and endurance.
Here are some of the talks that have lately brought peace to my soul:
(Click the title to read it, or watch it below.)

Come What May, and Love It by Joseph Wirthlin


“God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son.” The Lord Jesus Christ is our partner, helper, and advocate. He wants us to be happy. He wants us to be successful. If we do our part, He will step in.

He who descended below all things will come to our aid. He will comfort and uphold us. He will strengthen us in our weakness and fortify us in our distress. He will make weak things become strong." 


Bear Up their Burdens with Ease by David Bednar


"Thus, the Savior has suffered not just for our sins and iniquities—but also for our physical pains and anguish, our weaknesses and shortcomings, our fears and frustrations, our disappointments and discouragement, our regrets and remorse, our despair and desperation, the injustices and inequities we experience, and the emotional distresses that beset us.

There is no physical pain, no spiritual wound, no anguish of soul or heartache, no infirmity or weakness you or I ever confront in mortality that the Savior did not experience first. In a moment of weakness we may cry out, “No one knows what it is like. No one understands.” But the Son of God perfectly knows and understands, for He has felt and borne our individual burdens. And because of His infinite and eternal sacrifice, He has perfect empathy and can extend to us His arm of mercy. He can reach out, touch, succor, heal, and strengthen us to be more than we could ever be and help us to do that which we could never do relying only upon our own power. Indeed, His yoke is easy and His burden is light."

Of Things That Matter Most by Dieter Uchtdorf

"The search for the best things inevitably leads to the foundational principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ—the simple and beautiful truths revealed to us by a caring, eternal, and all-knowing Father in Heaven. These core doctrines and principles, though simple enough for a child to understand, provide the answers to the most complex questions of life.

There is a beauty and clarity that comes from simplicity that we sometimes do not appreciate in our thirst for intricate solutions."

Rise to the Stature of the Divine Within You by Gordon B. Hinkley

(Click on the link to watch at lds.org- there wasn't a YouTube version.)

"Marvelous is the power of women of faith. It has been demonstrated again and again in the history of this church. It goes on among us today. I think it is part of the divinity within you.

Sisters, rise to the stature of that divinity. In that effort make the world in which you live a better place for yourself and for all who will come after you. There is much to do. There are many challenges to be met."

I love listening to and reading these talks, and hope you find time to listen to them, too! There's nothing like listening to the prophets of God speak while you do dishes- it makes it a much more enjoyable experience!
Please, please leave your favorite talks in the comments. I promise to read them. :)

SOMEONE FOUND MY PHONE IN THE MOUNTAINS AND GAVE IT BACK!

There. I've gotten most of my need for CAPITAL LETTERS out of the way.
You may proceed without fear.

Here is a story:
Travis and I went into the mountains with our family. We were not at a campsite, we were not on a trail.
We just pulled over by the side of the road and had a picnic in a clearing. There was a fire pit there.
When it was time to leave, I realized that I'd misplaced my phone and we spent an hour looking for it.
Then the boys and I went home and Travis spent another hour and a half combing through the underbrush and dead leaves looking for my phone.
But it was a goner.

Over the next week, we tried to decide rationally what to do.
We couldn't really afford to get me a new smart phone- and yet, without a smart phone- I would undoubtedly spend all of my time driving in confused circles shouting things into the air like, "Siri! Is there a Target near me?" only to be ignored by my dumb phone.
(To be clear, Siri does not help me. 99% of the time, she says "I'm really sorry about this, but I can't take any requests right now."
And 1% of the time, she says, "I don't know your mother's name." And I say, "Mom cell! Call Mom cell!" And she says, "Should I remember that Jonathon Call is your mother?" Siri and I have actually had that exact conversation At. Least. Three. Times. What's the definition of insanity, again?)
Anywho.
I kept saying, "I really need to get a new phone," and Travis kept saying "We really need to figure out the phone."
And we both kept putting it off and feeling like something would "turn up."

And then. Something turned up.
Over a week went by, and I was sitting in my bed, nursing my baby. Travis' phone was on the table next to me, and I glanced over at it just as the screen lit up with my face and the word BECKY.
Becky was calling.
MY PHONE WAS CALLING.

I snatched the phone up, feeling slightly hysterical and highly disbelieving.
"Hello?"
"Hi. Um. So I was in the mountains..."
"OH MY GOODNESS!"
"Yeah, yeah. I have your phone."
Turns out, someone else had stopped in the same place as us and pulled out a metal detector. Three minutes later, they had found my phone- perfectly intact, hiding under a pile of leaves.
They brought it home and knocked on neighbors' doors until they found someone with an iPhone charger (Can you even believe the dedication to doing-good here?!)
They charged it up and called "Mom Cell."
"Hey, we found a phone, you're listed as Mom. Know anyone missing a phone?" they asked.
And my dumb mom said.... NO.
"You don't know anyone missing an iPhone?"
Nope.
And then the lights clicked on. "Wait. Did you find it in the mountains in Utah?!"

I got a lot of comments on Instagram saying things like, "What an amazingly good person!" or "My faith in humanity is restored!"
But truth is, I'm impressed, delighted, and happy that someone returned my phone. But I'm not surprised. I still have a lot of faith in humanity.
I lose my phone about once a year. And once a year, someone calls Mom Cell and says, "I have your kid's phone."
I've had multiple iPod's (when they were still a thing) turned into Lost and Found boxes, I've had my purse returned to me intact.
I am a loser of all things, and a receiver of all things.
To me, the amazing, mind-blowing, insane detail of this story is that MY PHONE WAS FOUND INTACT IN THE MOUNTAINS. In the middle of nowhere. That somehow, a man with a metal detector decided to stop for a little treasure hunt in the same random place that we stopped for a picnic.

I know that it was kind, amazing, honest, and GOOD of someone to give my phone back. But was it unbelievably good? I think that most people are good. Most people want to do the right thing. I think most of the people who read this would return a phone if they found it. Right?Give yourself some credit, and give the people around you the benefit of the doubt.

Because I bet, if someone found your phone in the mountains, you'd somehow end up with it again.
Either that, or I am just extremely lucky.

Notes:
1. My mom isn't dumb. I'm sorry I said that. I just can't get over her saying that she doesn't know anyone missing a phone when we usually talk on the phone together for an hour plus a day. 
2. I know! I am extremely lucky either way, right?

Where Can I Turn for Peace?

Our world is so hectic. I feel like I am constantly busy, distracted, often at the end of my rope. There is a queasy, almost constant feeling in the back of my head and pit of my stomach that I've forgotten something. I have pregnancy insomnia (it's 4am now, and the neighborhood dogs are a-barking, so who knows if I'll go back to sleep?) and often I wake up and toss and turn. I'm fitfully trying to remember what I have to do, what needs to be checked off my list. So often, I pull out my phone and scroll through blogs, Facebook, Pinterest, and Instagram- looking for something to quiet my mind and distract me. But that never really works, does it? I just end up with more on my mind; trivial things that I don't care about, people I've never met or haven't spoken to in years, and new things that I suddenly think are a necessity in my own life.
Lately, the lines from two hymns been running through my mind.
The first, Be Still My Soul is perhaps my favorite song. I still remember a powerful moment of personal revelation that I received while singing it years ago. As a freshman at Brigham Young University, I hurt my foot and tore through my tendons. I had to leave the college that I had JUST been accepted to. I had to leave my new-found friends and happy independence and go home to icy Minnesota for surgery. All my high school friends had moved on to colleges away from our small town, and as far as I could see- my life was ruined. I knew how quickly things moved at college. If I left for a semester, I wouldn't have the same friends and roommates when I got back. The boy I liked would probably have some new girlfriend. The classes I was taking with friends would have to be finished with new peers. All torture. But worst of all, I felt betrayed by God. I knew that I was supposed to be at BYU. I knew that was part of "the plan."
So WHY was I going home? Why had God let this happen? If I was supposed to be at BYU, why was I leaving? If I was supposed to be at home, why had God gotten my hopes up and let me get into this college that I loved?
I was heartbroken, to say the least.
One evening, I was gathered with several friends around a piano. I am not musical, but every other Mormon on the planet is- so they were taking turns playing snatches of musicals and popular songs, while the rest of us laughed, joked, and sang along. I try to remember how it happened, that we started singing hymns- but it was just one of those moments, I think. Someone picked up a hymnal off the top of the piano and started playing. We all sang along. Of course we did. We were good Christian girls who loved a hymn as much as any musical number.
And in the midst of my heartbreak, while experiencing exactly the sort of bonding and joyful moment that I didn't want to give up- we sang the words, "Be still my soul, thy God does dost undertake to guide thy future as he has the past."
And I knew. The spirit gave me a little nudge, and quieted my restless soul, and for a moment- he made it okay.
I was still sad. My heart still ached. I still bawled the entire plane ride home, making everyone on my flight uncomfortable. But I didn't feel alone anymore; I felt supported. I knew that my plans and my worries were going to be taken care of- even if it wasn't how I intended. Be still, my soul.
Be still, my soul: The Lord is on thy side; With patience bear thy cross of grief or pain.  Leave to thy God to order and provide; In every change he faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: Thy best, thy heavenly Friend Thru thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

I am trying to let my soul be still. I am trying to remember that God is in charge, and to let the unimportant things fall by the wayside.
It's hard to do and takes constant reminding.
The other hymn I've been leaning on lately is Where Can I Turn for Peace?
It seems so applicable, lately. With so many sources calling out for my attention, so many distractions. Everything on social media promises us peace, happiness. Right? Easy meals on Pinterest, tricks and tips for losing weight, 5 secrets to a happy marriage.
Everything. So many lists and blogposts offering up advice. So many "articles" explaining why everyone but the author is an idiot. So much drama, all the time, everywhere, and I am addicted to it. And I do not feel at peace.
I feel stressed out. Where can I turn for peace? Where is my solace when other sources cease to make me whole?
Do you do this? I pick up my phone to check the time and find myself on Instagram. I think my fingers have been programmed to automatically open up Instagram without any thought-process from me. I feel badgered and battered by the constant news stream of my friends' lives, but I can't look away.
I feel frustrated and overwhelmed.
In addition to social media, though, I feel overwhelmed with so many moments in my actual life.
Eight months pregnant. Three year old twins. My husband is in India. We are poor, our house is too small, our food is not healthy enough, I let my kids watch too much tv, we don't see Travis enough, I say hurtful things to others, and have my feelings hurt in return. Just. Everything.
Nothing big. I know that I am so blessed, and usually I feel overwhelmed with gratitude- not with grief. But some days it's just all too much.
Where can I turn for peace when with a wounded heart, anger, or malice, I draw myself apart, Searching my soul? Where, when my aching grows, Where, when I languish, Where, in my need to know, where can I run?

Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand?
He, only One.

I am so grateful to know where I can turn for peace. I am so blessed to have the calm of Christ at the eye of life's storm.
I want my home to be filled with the spirit of Christ- to be a place of refuge and relief. A place to come for peace.
But even when it isn't, I'm grateful for The Lord. I am grateful that I can turn to him in prayer, scriptures, and music and find peace from the noise of the world. Be still, my soul. I can find peace.
And now I think the dogs outside are quieting, and the breathing of my boys sleeping on my bedroom floor is soft and slow. Be still my soul, Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: The waves and winds still know His voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.

I believe:

 Well, it's that time again. If you've read my blog for any extended time you probably know that every once and a while (6 months, to be exact), the leaders and prophets, teachers, and apostles of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormons), hold a General Conference during which they preach and teach and it is broadcast into almost every corner and language of the world.

I love this assembly during Spring, of course, but there's something about the fall session that just sings to my soul.
It's as if the Lord is saying, "Here comes a long cold winter. Let me give you something bright and shining to keep you warm through the hard months."

And so, to those of you who kept reading - even after you realized that this was a religious post- I wanted to share some of the things that I believe and some of the things that I know.

I know that God loves me. I know that I have a father in heaven who hears me when I pray, who mourns with me and comforts me, who rejoices with me and loves me for me. I know that he has a plan for me and my life, even when things are hard.

I believe in his Son, Jesus Christ. I rejoice in the belief that after Christ suffered for us (and not just for our sins, but our sickness, our loneliness and all our pains), he lived again. He came back. He did not abandon us, because he could not abandon us.

I know that marriage can be eternal. I know that I have been married to my wonderful husband, not just until death do-us-part - but forever. I know that we can be together for the rest of time, being silly and awesome and loving each other.

I know that God has given us Prophets and apostles to guide his church today, just as he did in Biblical times. I know that if we listen to them, heed their counsel and obey their instructions, we will be happy, even if hard or bad things are happening to or around us.

I believe that the scriptures are also the word of God. That they were written by servants of God, and preserved and translated by His power so that God's children could have His words throughout all of time.

I also know and rejoice in the fact that the scriptures are not the only source of truth in the world, and that all beauty and truth come from God - whether they are the poetic words of the Psalms or kind words from a quiet friend. God has surrounded us with light and beauty if we can recognize it.

I tend to write a lot about silly things, anecdotes about plane ride with babies or singing songs about dump trucks, but these are the things of my soul.
It's hard to share sometimes! I worry about what people will think of me when they read this. I would almost prefer that people were horrible or rude so that I could show off some righteous indignation (not really), but I think that what really happens is that people who do not believe the same things as me just brush posts and thoughts like this aside.
Silly, naive Becky. Still believes in an all-powerful God. Sigh.

And that hurts so much more. Because it's hard to put out the thoughts and feelings of my heart and then have them brushed aside.
But the truth is, I know that God has a church on the earth today. A church that he guides with a living prophet, a church with all those little bits of truth that others are searching for. I really do believe that God loves and guides us all if we ask for his help, regardless of what church or congregation we attend: but The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is different.
Because it is the true church of Christ, restored to the order of the church that He set up during his mortal ministry.
I hope that all of you will take some time during the next two days to tune in wherever you are and listen for yourself. Take note of how you feel when you listen.
I'm not really expecting any of you to hop on the phone and call the missionaries to be baptized, but maybe allow yourself to cozy up to a nice spiritual fire for a while. You'll like how warm it is, I'm sure.

Listen to General Conference {HERE.}

"Writing is a form of Revelation"

As you might know (if you read this blog regularly, or are my friend in real life) I recently attended a conference for Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers.
It lasted five days, and consisted of classes and peer review in the morning (which I didn't attend... too pricey!) and speakers and panels in the afternoon.
As too many witnesses can tell you, I spent much of every day crying.
Seriously, you guys. I cry a lot.
Every talk was so touching, inspiring, and encouraging. Whether it was about writing from real life, finding the proper ending for your book, or understanding the importance and power of children's literature... I was crying.

But the real reason that I was crying, was that I felt a confirmation and love from God towards my writing. I felt like God cared about my writing. Like, because it is important to me, it is important to Him.
I felt encouraged to keep writing.
And for some reason, I was surprised by this.

I know that God wants me to be a mother. I am strengthened, led, and helped to be a better mother by him every single day. I know my children are important to him, and that when I pray about them, my prayers are answered.
But writing books isn't motherhood.
I guess, I didn't realize that some of the other things I do are important to God, too.

I'm not that good at writing, really.
And my books aren't... perfect. That's silly, but I mean they aren't totally wholesome. (Not that they're bad, just to be clear.) But my characters are flawed. The book I'm working on currently is about two sisters in a broken family. Sometimes they swear. Bits of the book are about... you know... sex and things.
And yet, my imperfect book about imperfect characters is important to me.
And so it's important to my heavenly father.

Throughout the week, I was given lots of amazing opportunities, and I'm still not totally sure how they came about.
An example? I was able to meet with a book agent, and he read the first chapter of my book. He liked it.
HE LIKED IT, I TELL YOU!
He asked me to send him the whole thing. He said things like, "This reminds of 'A Bridge to Terebithia.'" And I came home giggling like a giddy child, and repeating all the nice things he said to anyone in the vicinity with ears.
Then, when Travis and I were on a date, I had a total breakdown in the Frozen Yogurt place, and started sobbing, saying over and over, "My book might be published. Someday my book might get published."

And Travis patted me on the back and said, "I know, Becky. I've always known that your book would get published."
Which is a very nice thing to say, considering he has absolutely NOT read my book yet.
And I just feel... grateful.
I feel so grateful and overwhelmed and excited.

And I feel encouraged. I've been writing my pants off over here lately. (Yes, I write without pants on. That's what that means.) And getting more excited every day.
Because this book is important.
And not just to me. But also to my father in heaven.

And a few notes, for those of you who are curious, or leave comments on my Facebook like, "Where can I pick up my copy of your book?" (Which is very nice, thank you.)

1. You can't. My book hasn't actually been picked up by an agent, let alone an editor. It still only exists on my computer.

2. Let's say my book does get picked up by an agent AND an editor: it could still be about two years (after I finish editing!) before it hits shelves.

3. (This note is to myself): Stop imagining yourself showing off your fancy Newbery Award at your five year reunion, your book will not be published by then.

4. (A note to people who went to my high school): Are we even having a five year reunion, or just a ten year reunion? Because I would like an excuse to bring my cute kids to Minnesota, and show them off to all of you and your parents who miss me.

5. (A note to people who know these things): Do Newbery Award winners actually get a trophy of some sort? Or just a sticker on their book and world renown?

6: Just so everyone is clear, I don't actually think I'll win a Newbery. That is a joke.  Laugh with me. Do it now. (Hahaha)

Anyway. Someday I will have a book. A real book. A book that I wrote and which got published.
And when that happens, you will know, because I WILL FREAK OUT ABOUT IT.
Every day.

Essays on Motherhood {pt. 3 Godly}

See Essays on Motherhood {pt. 1 We are Strong} HERE.
and Essays on Motherhood {pt. 2 Other Mothers} HERE.

I've been wanting to write this post for ages, but it was scatterbrained. I had lots of thoughts that I was trying to pin down and focus on, with the result of having nothing pinned down.
And then about a week ago, I read this quote:
"You are the bearers of the children. You are they who nurture them and establish within them the habits of their lives. No other work reaches so close to divinity as does the nurturing of the sons and daughters of God." {source}
And my thoughts were pinned.
No other work reaches closer to divinity. 
Can any woman, holding her babe to the breast, breathing in his sweet smell, watching his fingers curl doubt that?
I love watching my babies learn. They used to lie and spend hours watching their own hands curl, flex, and wave. They have these new perfect bodies to learn about.  And I get a ringside seat. Every moment of every day, I am there. Teaching, helping, watching. From a baby's point of view, I'm even pretty omniscient. I can see him about to stand up and crack his head on the edge of the table. I can see him reaching for the candle, and I know that it will burn him. I know.
And my days consist of teaching and instructing my children. "This is a triangle. We don't bite. Ducks say quack."
And being an example, hopefully, of kindness, curiosity, love, reverence, spontaneity, and all the other qualities that I aim to have and raise my children with.
I spend my days trying to protect my children, while also allowing them to live and experience things. Every day I have to weigh dangers and decide what I will let them do.
Will I let Grey fall off the couch? It will help him learn to be careful around the edge of the couch and other objects.
Will I let Micah run into the street? It will help him learn that cars are fast and will run you over.
Obviously there is a line drawn between those two things. And I have to draw it. I have been given little human beings to care for and am 100% responsible for them.
And if that isn't enough to convince you that child rearing is a Godlike responsibility, think about the Godlike ability to bear children.
I made two little babies.  I MADE THEM. No craftsman, scientist, or artist in all the world could ever make something so impressive, flawless, powerful, and with so great a capacity.
And I, without any baby making training, made babies. I created life. From an infinitesimal little egg and sperm, with a little help from giant smoothies and bowls of granola... I made PEOPLE.
Seriously think about that for a minute.

It almost makes me feel guilty, to be honest, when I feel this likeness to God. I'm not God. I get that. I'm not all powerful or all-knowing. But if any people on earth have something in common with God... it's not man. Sorry boys. I know you like to talk of our Heavenly Father, and it's probably pretty easy to imagine that since He's a he, and you're a he... you have something in common.
But mothers.
Mothers are as divine and Godlike as you can get, without being God.

Not to brag or anything.

Travis says this post needs a call to action. So here it is. Take yourself seriously. The other day the boys and I were still in pajamas at about 3:30pm.  They hadn't really had solid foods that day, just bottles. I took a picture of us playing on my phone and was going to send it to Travis. I captioned it, "Oops. Today I'm being a bad mom. We're still in pjs!" But I didn't send it. I couldn't.
I wasn't being a bad mom.
We'd spent the day playing and snuggling.  We'd been crawling in and out of the fort over and over and over again. The boys had each spent a good fifteen minutes giving me slobbery, open-mouthed kisses.
I was being a good mom. Getting dressed isn't always part of good mothering.
I went back to my text, and replaced bad with lazy.  It was a lazy day.
But I couldn't send that.
I'd done four loads of laundry and washed all the dishes.
Sure, our house still looked like a freaking pigsty. But I wasn't being lazy.
I went back and erased the whole caption. I'm pretty sure that I sent it with a caption like "Happy boys!"
But for some reason, even though I'd spent the whole day loving, cleaning, playing, kissing, and being forcefully fed graham crackers I felt inadequate. Like getting my kids dressed was more important than covering them with kisses, and making silly faces at them.  Like cooking them a well-balanced lunch that they wouldn't eat anyway was more important that reading "Animals" fourteen times in a row, and making all the different animal sounds (including several that I've made up... for example, half the time the penguin clicks like Snoopy pretending to be a penguin in A Charlie Brown Christmas, and half the time he says "Hello! I'm a fancy penguin! Do you like my tuxedo?"... I'm pretty sure that penguins do neither of those things.)
I was being an awesome mom. I was doing everything that my kids needed. I was being Godlike. For real.
When you're praying, sobbing, having a hard day and you come before God, he doesn't say "Let's get you dressed and well-fed, for appearances sake. "
Instead, he wraps you up. He sends you warmth and comfort. He sends you love. He whispers to your heart the things you need to hear, and teaches you the things that you need to learn.
And that's what mothers do. Sometimes we look like we're lazy or bad mothers.
Sometimes our kids have boogers crusted on to their noses, because we know that they'll scream and cry if you try to wipe it off and it's just not worth it...
and that's okay.
It's more than okay.
It's good mothering.
And mothering is divine.
My religion (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints) teaches that there are two places on earth that can truly be defined as "The House of God." One is a temple, which is a sacred and beautiful place.
And one is the home. My home. Your home.
You know who's in charge of helping God feel welcome there? Us. Mothers.
Sure, Fathers, too. But in most cases, Mothers are there more of the time. They cultivate the feelings of the home, whether they be of peace, happiness and love, or whether they be of stress, anger, and frustration. (In general, you know. Obviously even the most loving home can sometimes be filled with angry words or hurt feelings.)
We have a responsibility and ability to be the most divine and Godlike people in our homes and families.  And we need to take it seriously, and take ourselves seriously.
Another quote, by Gordon B. Hinkley says "Women who make a house a home make a far greater contribution to society than those who command large armies or stand at the head of impressive corporations."
Read that. Think about that.
And take yourself seriously.
Because seriously. You are pretty amazing.
Completely divine, one might say.


p.s. Please vote, and please scroll down and read today's other, much shorter post and help a sista out.

Fact: it is Friday {Bodies}

Fact: it is Friday: Where I talk about myself. On Fridays.

I don't talk about my babies, unless I want to, which sometimes I might. But mostly Fact: it is Friday is when I'm going to maybe tell you something you didn't know about me.
Or maybe a story from my bucktoothed-childhood or bratty teenage years.

Becky fact 11: I LOVE my babies' little bodies, in a fierce, physical sort of way.

I love their little faces and toes, yes. Their soft hair. Their slightly pointy belly buttons, sure.
But there's something else as well. It's deeper, and a bit more (I hesitate to use this word, but can't really think of an another) primitive.
I want them to cling to me. To have their hot little bodies pressed against mine. To feel their wet, quick breath on my neck when I hold them.
I completely adore breastfeeding them one at a time, lying on my bed, and I place my hand on their chest while they eat and feel their ribs, their muscles contracting, their hearts beating.
They have these fantastic little bodies and I am a teeny bit obsessed with them.
I have several theories on why this may be.
First: I made them. Their bodies were once part of MY body. And, through breastfeeding them, they are still nourished and physically and emotionally connected to my body. So it makes sense for my body to want to be near to them... It's rather like being more of a whole itself, than being several separate bodies. Right?
My second theory is a bit more philosophical, and is best understood with a teeny bit of explaining about my religion. As you may know, I am a Mormon (or Latter-day Saints, as we're really known) and Mormons believe that God created our spirits before He created our bodies.
So picture, if you will, God up in heaven with all of his "spirit children" (aka, us before we were born) saying something along the lines of "I have created a beautiful earth for you to live on" (and we're all like "hurray!").
"But," says God, "you need a body to live there, because you can't fully experience all the awesome things the world has to offer without a body. Like eating, or sex, or the way your muscles burn after you work out, or the way flowers smell, or how water feels."
And we're all getting super excited, because we can't even imagine how awesome all those things must be.
And so, starting with Adam and Eve, God starts sending his children down to Earth to get a body and experience all these amazing things that we could never experience as just spirits.
And so, here's my second thought about why I am so in love with (a a bit obsessed with) the spectacular bodies my sons have: every time they do something new, or try something, or learn something, I find myself thinking "You have been waiting SO long to get to do that. You have been watching and waiting and preparing to get to taste plums for thousands and thousands of years." I feel their little muscles moving and think, "You finally have a little body. Isn't it amazing? Is is all that you hoped for? Isn't God good? Aren't we blessed to have these perfect, intricate, mind-blowingly awesome places for our spirits to dwell?"
And I try to be a bit more grateful for my own body, and the things it can do (umm, like make two babies? AMAZING.)
And I'm wondering what other moms think (and dads, and adoptive parents too!). Do you feel this fierce animal love for your childrens' bodies or if it just me?
And why do you think that is?

And you should write a Friday Fact!


 


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Fact: it is Friday. 

I think you should do it too. 

And here are your instructions (not really rules...):

1. Write a fact about yourself.

2. Elaborate.

3. It can be long or short, detailed or not.

4. Don't write about your kids. (Unless you want to. Because, I mean... it's your blog. I can't stop you from writing about your kids.)

5. Link up to this blog, so we can all read some facts, and not feel bad that we dropped out of school to be stay-at-home moms. (Since if we're reading facts, then we are still learning.)

6. You're not a dropout like me? Or a stay at home mom? No biggie. You can still play.

Can't think of what to write? Start like this:

Fact: When I was a kid I was really good at...

or

Fact: My biggest pet peeve is...

or

Fact: I have a third nipple.

Etc.

Fact: I would love it if you clicked below to vote for me:

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday - Baby Blessings

In the Mormon church, after a baby is born the father of the baby (or in some cases Grandfather, or other family member) gives the baby a name and a blessing in front of the church.
Essentially, it is an opportunity to pray publicly for the baby, asking for certain things in the child's life, like happiness, strength, faith etc. and to announce the baby's name.

Usually it's done at church on Sunday, a few weeks after the baby's birth - but since our boys aren't supposed to go out in public we were able to have the twins' blessings in our home this last Sunday.
Only our siblings and parents attended (and there were still over a dozen people in our tiny apartment), but it was the first time we'd all been together since the boys were born, and it was the first time Travis' brother Tate had even seen the boys (except through the NICU window)!

Sadly, two of my sisters weren't able to come, since Lisa is in Asia and Mary is in Idaho.
Anyway, so far this post isn't exactly wordless...
But here are some pictures of the boys and their family. We love them all so much!


Above is Travis' Grandma. She has four sets of twin-grandchildren! All of them are identical, too, which means every time it was a fluke. (Identical twins don't "run in families," since having eggs that spilt isn't an inheritable gene.) Crazy, right? And Travis' dad (Dave) holding Micah David, and my dad Chris holding Grey Christopher. 
Oh man, those Pitchers are tall.


Travis' parents, both holding Micah. Micah was SO alert, and he loved being held by his grandma.
And he looks like a little monkey. I wish you could see how long his fingers and toes are!




My parents holding the boys. Grey looks so content being held by my dad (the pic on the right) but I think he's pooping or something in the pic where my mom is holding him, haha. Poor Grey.


This is my family (minus Mary and Lisa), and for some reason we thought sitting down for this picture was a good idea. It's not a very flattering angle.


This is Travis' sister Camille and her son (the boys' only cousin!) James. James was born in November, so he's only four months older than the boys, but he weighs as much as both of them combined!





I'm excited to see who the boys end up looking like, since clearly both of our families have very strong genes.
Pitchers look like Pitchers and Froelichs look like Froelichs.

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having faith

I am not asleep. I am writing this post at the same time as my last post because I have more to get down and out of my brain so maybe I can sleep.
Here it is.

God wants me to have these babies.
I am 100 percent certain of that, even though it might sound goofy.

Mormons are pretty set on the belief that if you pray about something God will help you figure out what to do.
We are also pretty set on the belief that having a strong and happy family is the most important thing you can do on earth.
When I was a teenager my mom said "Never pray and ask if you should have more kids. God will always say yes."
Which was funny to me.
It seems less funny now. Or maybe I mean more funny?

Travis and I had several long talks before I got pregnant, while we tried to decide what to do.
We decided that we wouldn't try not to have a baby, or not to not have a baby.
We took the Proclamation to the World to heart though, and decided we'd just let God lead the way.
And since it takes most couples who are trying at least a few months, but often upwards of a year we figured that we had a while before anything big happened (since we weren't even trying, really)
A week later I was pregnant.
Seriously. A week.
We are a fertile couple, I suppose.
(Is this too much info? Too bad. You are too blame for reading this.)

Not only was I pregnant a week later, but I also am having twins.
So double extra fertile.
Which is really lucky. We've been seriously blessed, especially since we know so many people who can't have kids or who had huge difficulties to overcome while having kids.
So far so good for us.
So far, making babies has been a breeze.

If you gathered from my last post that I am freaking out a little (or a lot), let me just say.
I know this is okay.
I know this is what is supposed to be happening.
My good friend sent me a really sweet email after she found out and it started with this quote from Jeffery R. Holland, who is a leader in the Mormon church:

"I have just two things to say to you who are troubled about the future. I say them lovingly and from my heart.

First, we must never let fear and the father of fear (Satan himself) divert us from our faith and faithful living. Every person in every era has had to walk by faith into what has always been some uncertainty. This is the plan. Just be faithful. God is in charge. He knows your name and He knows your need.

Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ—that is the first principle of the gospel. We must go forward. God expects you to have enough faith, determination, and trust in Him to keep moving, keep living, keep rejoicing. He expects you not simply to face the future; He expects you to embrace and shape the future—to love it, rejoice in it, and delight in your opportunities.

God is eagerly waiting for the chance to answer your prayers and fulfill your dreams, just as He always has. But He can’t if you don’t pray, and He can’t if you don’t dream. In short, He can’t if you don’t believe."

Then my friend said,
"I love this because it makes some hard things simple. and it reminds me that when i exercise real faith, there is only optimism and joy. this part of our life is going to be crazy and hard hard hard. But I love that elder holland reminds us to not fear, but to take an active part in our challenges and embrace whole heartedly. If I would dare to give anyone advice as such a brand new parent myself, i would say that what has kept me sane when i feel so insane is finding the good, amazing part of a situation, however small it may seem initially, and just holding on as tight as you can."

This is good. This is what I need.
I really, truly am so unbelievably grateful that Heavenly Father is trusting me with TWO babies.
And I know that if he thinks I can do this, then I can.
And I will.
And I am going to practice not being scared, but being faithful.
And not being scared is much easier when you have such a good husband as I do.
He is the absolute perfect husband to have in situations like this.

Sorry for all you ladies who have to have twins (or any babies at all) without Travis as your husband. You are missing out, and I am the one who is so lucky to have three perfect boys in her life.
Two of whom are babies.
One of whom is my awesome husband.
And also, I have pretty awesome friends. As evidenced by the email above.