the things that nobody talks about

Mr. Boss and I had a little movie date after the kids went to bed. It was nice. (We watched Here Comes the Boom with Kevin James. I liked it a lot.)

My little boyfriend slept on me during the movie, and once it was over, I turned my attention to his sweet sleeping self. And I was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with the love that I have for this kid.

I wanted another baby. I wanted one so badly. I felt like it was time, for a long time. Like, long before we moved out here, before we even decided to take this path, I wanted this baby. This is not to say I didn't love my other children, because I did, and do. But sometimes you just know it is "time", and that was how I felt. For months and months I ached and wished and prayed for a baby. I tried to get Boss to understand, to agree with me that it was "time", but he just didn't. He told me to just be happy with what I had, that the time would come. Eventually. But not now. It sucked.

I tried not to feel jealous when I heard of other women who were getting pregnant. I wanted to be one of them, and the announcements hurt. I was so frustrated. I was so sure that we were supposed to have another baby, soon, but Mr. Boss continued to disagree. And then, there were those times when we weren't careful (tmi? sorry...) and I was sure that the timing was right on. I "should have" gotten pregnant a few times before it happened. This only added to my frustration. I began to doubt myself. Why did I feel like there was a baby waiting for us, but not getting pregnant. I prayed and plead for my wish to be granted. And then I decided to give in. I left it up to God. He knew I was ready and willing and waiting, and I left the timing to Him. I never stopped asking, but I let go of my idea of when it should happen.

And then it did. I was pregnant, and I was so happy. Nervous, because Mr. Boss still wasn't on board with the idea, and nervous because I thought that people would judge me for having so many children so close together. But I was grateful. And so glad that my wait was almost over.

I went through the pregnancy and did my best to be positive about the difficulties of being pregnant while also having to care for 3 children. Some days were good, some days were bad. But I didn't want to seem ungrateful for this gift, so I focused on the good parts.

As I had already experienced three other pregnancies, I was able to do some comparing. I noticed pretty quickly that my pregnancies with C and Z were very similar, and my pregnancy with E most resembled the one I was experiencing. So, I was sure that I was going to have a girl.

We do not find out the gender of our babies, we like the surprise. But I felt like I was spot on, that everything was pointing to girl. Every other pregnancy, as I would buy things for my unborn babe, I made sure to buy a few outfits for both genders, "just in case", but I just knew that wasn't necessary this time.

Fast forward to the early morning hours of September 9th, 2012. My baby, the one I had waited and hoped for and prayed for, for so long, was almost here. And then he was. He was. He.

I was shocked. The birth experience alone was pretty traumatizing, but to top it off, my baby was a boy. My whole body was shaking from the work I had just done, and I had this sweet, perfect, tiny boy whose weight on my chest felt heavenly, glorious. But he wasn't the baby I was expecting. Even in my stunned state, underneath the physical pain of birth, I knew I was disappointed and, even in that state, I was ashamed of myself.

My midwife, she knew. She knew how sure I was that I was having a girl. And I think she saw the turmoil in my face, maybe she could feel the weight of this blow. Oh, I felt so ashamed to not be perfectly grateful and thrilled to have this baby boy, fresh from heaven, resting on me. But I hurt that I was wrong. I had such dreams and plans for the girl I didn't get.

My midwife, she was amazing. She kept telling me "It's okay to mourn this. It's okay."

I wanted to cry, to scream, to express my anguish. But I was too ashamed to admit my true feelings.

My connection to my new little one did not come right away. I tried to force it a little, tried to trick myself into thinking I was nothing but overjoyed. But inside there was a break, a hurt. What was wrong with me?

I made a choice right then and there, that I would do whatever I could think of to encourage bonding between me and my new little one. I wanted to get rid of the feelings of disappointment. I wanted to feel the love and bliss that I thought I should be feeling. I didn't want to mourn. But I still did.

Every night, even now, my baby boy and I sleep side by side, skin to skin. I held him constantly. I tried to set him down as infrequently as possible. I shot down, somewhat fiercely, Mr. Boss's suggestion that we get him some sort of activity chair or swing so that I could have a moment of relief from time to time. When I'd nurse him, I would study his features. I did all of these things because I wanted to love him. I did love him, but I wanted to love him deeply -- the way that I feel like I should have from the first moment I laid eyes on him. And I did.

Every day I fell more in love with my boy.

Sometimes I still mourn the girl that wasn't. Less now than in those first few weeks, when seeing baby girls, tiny outfits covered in cupcakes, or hearing about someone who learned they were expecting a girl brought me to tears. But now I can look and my tiny boy, not so tiny anymore, and I can feel my love for him radiating through my body. I cannot imagine my life without him, I don't even want to try.

And, someday, I will get another girl. I just know it.

photo challenge day 23:

and every time you look at me it’s just the way it all should be.

It was a cool August morning. Mostly clear, with a few gray clouds scattered about, threatening rain. There was a nervous anticipation in the air. It was the kind of day that would change lives forever.I woke up early, eager, with a hint of second thoughts. What was I getting myself into? I got dressed and woke my aunt, who had offered to do my hair for me. I worried we would be late, we were supposed to meet just before 11. Finally we were on our way. By the time we arrived my heart was in my throat and I contemplated, for a quick moment, if I should just have my aunt take me some place else, anywhere but there.
Then I saw him.I felt immediately calmed and even more anxious in the same moment.
The ceremony was quick and simple, complete with a surprise. I thought I would only have my engagement band, but Mr. Boss had been keeping a secret. I was confused at first, and then flustered, as he popped open the box that held my wedding band. I'm sure I shook as he slid it onto my finger. My heart was pounding, and I could feel my face warming as I blushed.And then it was done, just like that. The papers were signed and I was married. Married to the boy I met at a chocolate store. Married to the boy who can make me laugh better than anyone else. Married to the boy who knew me during my darkest times, and who helped to bring out the light. Married to my first and only love.The last 5 years have flown by, and felt like forever at the same time.

It hasn't always been easy. Things have changed, our little family has grown, jobs have been lost, and new ones found. But, through all the good, all the bad, and everything in between, I wouldn't have wanted anyone else by my side on this adventure.

1 family vacation
(not including camping)
2 states
3 children
4 cars
5 years
6 homes
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

title
from here

it's been 5 years, little shrub

March 25, 2006 was an exciting day of firsts: my first road trip with a non-relative and my first time visiting gorgeous Moab.
It was two weeks before my 19th birthday and I wanted to do something awesome to celebrate: camp. Because April is not the best month for camping anywhere in northern Utah, I decided we should go to Moab. The only real problem: I had never been, and didn't know where any campgrounds were, or how much it would cost. So, my dashing, darling Mr. Boss suggested we take a day trip to do some scouting.
We left early in the morning, excited to spend a whole day by ourselves! As we traveled south we talked and joked and flirted, it was perfect. As we got farther south, out of the more developed regions, we began to see some of the glorious natural beauty that our state has to offer. I'm pretty sure I looked like a dog, with my head hanging out the window, tongue flapping in the wind....OK, that didn't really happen....but I felt as though my eyes weren't possibly big enough to take in the gorgeous scenery. I was so very grateful at that point that I was not driving. (It is so much more difficult to admire these sorts of things when you have to focus on the road, you know? Poor Mr. Boss!)
We arrived in Moab around 12:30 and, first things first, found a quaint diner where we could eat lunch. As we ate we talked about the overwhelming beauty of the red rock and the thrill of being by ourselves, so far away from everyone we knew.
After lunch we made our way to the car, and then drove around aimlessly for a while, not sure where to go and distracted by our new surroundings. Eventually we passed a sign that pointed the way to Dead Horse Point. That sounded like a place to begin our campground search.

As we followed the road towards the Point, our conversation became less playful and more serious as we began discussing religion and our similar, yet somewhat differing beliefs. When we arrived we climbed out of the car and made our way into the visitors center to find out if they had any information for potential campers. As we looked around, we continued our conversation, keeping our voices down, so as not to annoy the two other people in the building. Finally, Mr. Boss suggested we take our chat to the car, so that we could have some privacy. It was the most interesting talk, as we shared our thoughts and ideas, I began to realize that my beliefs were stronger than I thought they were.

A light storm rolled in, and the pressure on top of the warmth made sitting in a car uncomfortable, so we got out and walked around the grounds. As we walked I looked around me. The view was amazing, and the plant life was different than what I was used to seeing. I thought the colorful, little shrubs were so cute.
Suddenly, as I admired these cute shrubs, a scene from the movie Charly, when they're on their first date at the park, popped into my head. My heart began to pound as I asked Mr. Boss to pick a shrub, any shrub would do. He motioned towards a small, yellow one, and I led him over to it. Then, looking at the shrub (and avoiding Mr. Boss's surely confused gaze) I said: "Hello, little Shrub, we have just gotten engaged, and you're the first one we've told!"Next thing I knew, Mr. Boss had whipped me around towards him, with a somewhat confused, somewhat nervous look on his face. After moment he spoke, "Cris, will you marry me?" Everything else melted away. It was just me, Mr. Boss, and the shrub. Even after what I had just said to the shrub, his question surprised me, but my answer was immediate. Of course I said "yes!"
At this point, we no longer cared about finding a campground. That plan was dead. Suddenly there was this new, overwhelmingly great reality. Then Mr. Boss hit me with another big one: "Can we keep this secret for a while?" I agreed.
He hadn't intended to ask me to marry him that day. We had discussed the matter before, and had both agreed that it would be best to wait, to not even think about marriage, until we'd been dating at least one year, so to be a week shy of our 3 month anniversary was so different from our plan. Plus, he wanted to ask my dad before we told anyone.
As we made our way home that evening there was a newness in the air. We had the memory of this amazing trip, and an exciting secret that had us a little bit bubbly and a lot nervous. Most of all, I was reeling at the fact that I'd just gotten engaged at 18! But when it's right, it's right and when you know, you know!

Unfortunately, we were so caught up
in the moment that there are
no photographs of our time
at Dead Horse Point.
All images via google image search.

a special day

As I mentioned on Tuesday, I get very excited about my birthday. But growing up in a family with 7 siblings meant that birthday parties and big celebrations were rare. (Cake and a few presents with the family was standard.)
The chance of a party seemed to diminish even more the older we got. This meant, if I wanted something special done, I had to do it myself.
Most years were disappointing. I'm not the best planner, and things just never really worked out. But, as my 19th approached, I decided I wanted to do something big. An over-night camping trip in Moab with a group of friends was, in my mind, the perfect way to celebrate the first day of my last year as a teenager. My plans were big and my hopes were high.
The problem was, having never been to Moab, I didn't know where we could camp, or what the cost would be. My darling boyfriend, Mr. Boss, suggested he and I take a day trip to scout for potential camp grounds.
We decided to go on the Saturday that fell exactly 2 weeks before my birthday. We packed a few snacks, but decided we'd find lunch on the road. We left around 6 or 7 am on March 25th. We had already informed our families of our adventure and we had our phones with us, fully charged, in case of an emergency.
The drive down south was fun. We were both in light and playful moods and just enjoyed each other's company, as well as the scenery along the way. I always thought I knew how beautiful Utah was, but this trip really opened my eyes to gorgeous sites and scenes I had never seen before.
Not in any rush, and not really knowing the best way to go, we ended up taking the long way. We finally made our way into the quaint town of Moab around lunchtime. By that point we were nice and hungry, and we quickly found a good looking diner to take our midday meal.
After lunch we set out in search of camp grounds. We were looking for anything free/very inexpensive, since we didn't want our friends to have to drive through most of the state only to pay an arm and a leg for their one night stay. Unfortunately, the only places we found (having done no research before hand) were just too much.
We eventually found ourselves at Dead Horse Point, and it was there that I began to realize my Great, Moab Birthday Campout was likely not going to happen.
With this realization our focus shifted and our moods changed from playful to serious. Inspired by the beauty before us, we began to talk God and religion. Our beliefs, though they stem from the same source, are somewhat different from each other. Along with that I was at a time in my life in which I was confused about whether or not I fully believed the things I was taught as a child. At the same time I found myself clinging to those beliefs, as they were the only thing I'd ever known.
I wasn't so much that I was questioning my church, (which is how it came across,) as I was questioning how a loving God could allow bad things to happen to good people.
We discussed things that I had learned from the church my childhood and youth and things he had learned from and about his family while he was growing up. He told me things that he had been taught that didn't match what I had been taught, and I had a hard time agreeing with him. Through our deep discussion we never really reached a point where we were seeing eye to eye, but something else happened.
Our conversation had moved from the Dead Horse Point visitors center, to his car in the parking lot (for more privacy,) to the grounds around the lot. As we walked and discussed a very different thought entered my mind. It was a passage from a book I'd read recently, and I had the very clear thought that I was to use that passage in that moment.
The thought completely side-tracked me from our conversation, so I interrupted it to ask Mr. Boss if he would please pick out a shrub. He was puzzled by my request, but complied after I asked him again.
The shrub he picked was a small, yellow thing that was just a few feet from us. I led him over to it, and then I leaned in toward the shrub to say "Hello, little shrub. We have just gotten engaged and you're the first one we've told!"
The strange thing about my comment was that we were, in fact, not engaged. Moreover, we had already discussed at one point that, if we were to become engaged, it wouldn't be until we had been dating for at least a year. At this point the length of our courtship was just shy of 3 months. Still, that thought I'd had was so clear and, strange as it seemed, I had to act upon it.
To my utter surprise, the moment I finished my comment to the shrub, Mr. Boss was grabbing me by the shoulders, turning me to face him. He looked at me for a moment with a dumb-founded, confused and yet agreeing look on his face. We stood there for a short moment, his hands never leaving my arms, his eyes locked onto mine, and then he spoke.
"Criss...will you marry me?"
My comment to the shrub aside, I was a bit taken aback by his proposal. The air was thick with questions and an approaching storm. I stared at him for what felt like hours before I managed to mumble out my response.
"Yes."
Our conversation from before was then resumed, but everything had changed dramatically. We were no longer discussing how our beliefs differed, rather we were talking about the similarities. As we talked we both felt a presence. We both brought up our grandfathers who are no longer with us, and we felt an air of approval as we discussed who they were and how much we miss them.
Our time at Dead Horse Point is one of my most cherished memories, it is one of the most incredible, albeit unexpected, moments of my life.

We chose to keep the events of our trip to ourselves for a time. We eventually shared the news on May 14th (Mother's day that year,) after Mr. Boss had the chance to officially ask my dad for permission to marry me.

pondering life

Sometimes, late at night, I think about my life. I think about where I am, how I got here, if I'm happy, if I'm where I want to be...
These thoughts are fueled by movies, music, or the general happenings of the day. It just depends on what strikes me.
Tonight, (as this sweet little being dances within my abdomen,) my thoughts are fueled by a movie. (500) Days of Summer. (And the killer soundtrack.)

I kind of feel like Cori and I are Summer and Tom. Except the whole part where...(I don't want to spoil the movie for anyone, but if you've seen it, then you can see how Cori and I are probably not so much like them.)
Allow me to explain:

I wasn't looking for a relationship. I was dreaming and planning a big life. One that started as a New York nanny, one that would eventually find me in a New York or California art school. I wasn't exactly in the best place, mentally and emotionally, as I planned this, but I didn't think it would stop me.
I had known Cori for a while, and there was always chemistry and compatibility, from the very beginning. But when he entered my life more seriously I wasn't interested. I liked him. I knew he liked me. But I was trying to go somewhere far from where I was, and I wasn't looking for the baggage of a boy back home. He knew this. He respected it, and he set out to be the only thing I was asking for: a friend.
Then came the set backs. I was interviewing with families over the phone, but nobody seemed interested in me. I gave up when the calls stopped coming. Nannying was not to be. (Secretly, I was relieved. I don't think I was ever fully comfortable with the idea of tending the children of some complete strangers. And the families I spoke with were probably able to sense this.)
No longer planning to leave, Cori made his move. It started with the necklace and a letter. Simple, 3 small diamonds on a plain strand and the note, he'd planned to give me these things the day I eventually left for New York. It was a sweet, although very unnerving, gesture. A few days (nights, really) later he kissed me.
I wanted it, but I was still taken aback by it, and didn't really kiss back. I was nervous and jumpy (like a little mouse.) A week later, at the stroke of midnight on New Year's, we kissed. I kissed back. This is the day I claim in my head as the day we became "something official." (4 years ago! Wild.)
I still had these plans, but they became somewhat obscured by Cori and his new constant place in my life. And things went quickly from there.
He asked me to marry him, a surprise to the both of us, on March 25th. We had taken a day trip to Moab in search of campgrounds, and instead had this really interesting, enlightening sort of discussion. The proposal followed the discussion. It felt right, but at the same time it felt strange when I said "yes."
Over the next few weeks we became more wrapped up in each other, keeping our engagement secret for a time, not wanting to be judged by others for moving "too quickly." On May 14th, Mother's Day, Cori slipped a ring on my finger as we sat in his car in front of his mother's house.
Then we went in and made our announcement.
Silently I felt uneasy, unsure. I still wanted to go to art school.
I picked a day, August 25th. (It has a few "meanings" 8:25, of 2nd Nephi, is my favorite scripture because it sounds pretty. My birthday is in April, his in December: 4+8=12. My birthday is the 8th, his the 17th: 8+17=25.) And we planned. We got our engagement pictures done by a friend, (this same friend was also our Reverend.) We made our invitations by hand. Simple, but lovely.
As the day approached my unease grew, but I never confided this to anyone. I figured it to be the standard "cold feet" that everyone talks about. I reasoned with myself. Everything that had happened seemed to be pushing us to this point. There was something about our conversation in Moab, something about the way our lives met at a time when both of us seemed to need each other for our different reasons. It seemed to sure to have been planned. I don't want to say it was all coincidence, because I don't think it was like that. But it didn't seem like we'd come to this point fully on our own. We felt led.
Still, I wondered if getting married was right.
Of course, I did go through with it. Nerves, doubts and all. I don't say it like that to sound like I wasn't happy. I was. I was thrilled, drunk on love, all that good stuff. I was a great big jumble of happy and nervous. I was both sure and unsure.

But after watching (500) Days, I'm wondering. Wondering what things might have ended up like had I let the nerves take over. Would we have stayed together? Would we have gotten married farther down the road? Would we have been finished if I'd called off the wedding?
I'm wondering if we had split, would we have moved on, and tried to follow our dreams? Would I have made it to art school? Might I have married someone else? Would my life be more where I figured it would be at this point, as opposed to what it is? Would Cori have followed his dreams? Could the crushing blow of my breaking things off have sent him off to focus on himself?
Would my life be glamorous?

I am glad that I went through with the wedding. As much as I am surprised, daily, by where I have ended up in life, I am pleased. I am happy. I have found incredible joy in motherhood. And, though we have our problems, I am in love with Cori more than ever.
As I wonder how things might have been I consider what I know about myself. And, to be perfectly honest, I don't think I would have made it to art school.
The plans I had for myself were wonderful, and it would have been amazing to fulfill them. But I don't think I had enough drive or motivation. I get nervous when I have to do things alone. For as long as I could, I convinced my mom to take care of grown up things for me. I never would have lasted if I had moved myself so far from my family.
So, even though I'm in a different place than I hoped, and even though I felt, at times, that I'd trapped myself, with no way out, I'm happy. I wouldn't trade my life for anything. As weird as it is to think "I'm a mom," I wouldn't want it any other way.
(And if this seems back and forth-y, I'm sorry. I really tried to make sense. And if it seems like I post some version of our love story too often, I'm sorry. I just keep thinking of new things I want to say, new things I want to share. I don't mean to be so repetitive. It just happens. And I'm not really sorry, because this is my blog, and I can write about whatever I want.)