I could have been...

Most of you don't know this, and some who did know may have forgotten. But I have not forgotten. 

I could have been a new mom again this week. 

8 months ago I learned that I was pregnant. I was so excited! Literally bursting. You should never take a pregnancy test at 2 am. Especially if you plan on keeping the secret from your husband until the semester ends. In three weeks. I did successfully keep the secret, just barely. I waited until he had settled down after getting home from his last final. Then I put my youngest in a shirt that said "big sister" and sent her into the kitchen where he was sitting. Such a sweet moment when the reality of the message finally dawned on him. Unlike last time this was not a surprise for us. We were ready and very much wanting to add to our family.

The timing was perfect. I crocheted a mini stocking for the baby to show our families on Christmas Day. They started spreading the good news, though I don't know how far it went. 

The next day on our family outing I started having cramps and bleeding. Nothing more than I normally felt during my period, but a little worrisome because it had never happened while I was pregnant. This was Friday night. By Monday morning it hadn't stopped so I made an ultrasound appointment, not knowing what to expect. 

All our friends were away for Christmas, so my husband drove around with the girls and I went in alone. 

And I came out alone.

The ultrasound showed that my uterus was empty. The tiny part of me that would have grown into my third baby was already gone. I felt like I should have noticed, should have felt something when it happened. But I didn't. And then it was over. I was just empty.

It's difficult to describe how I felt afterwards. I cried, but not much. It was like my ability to feel anything significant was gone. Everything was watered down. I felt a little sad, a little angry, a little helpless, a little confused. I was frustrated because I thought I should be feeling more. Maybe I thought that feeling immense pain would bring me closure. But I never did. Ever since I have been annoyed by that. Like because I didn't feel as much physical or emotional pain as I thought I should, my experience wasn't valid. The one good thing that should have come out of this experience was that I could empathize with my many friends who have and will experience a miscarriage. Can I really empathize if I didn't feel the pain?

I think maybe I worried that I would forget.

But I have not forgotten. This week I might have been a new mother again. Instead I am still waiting. Still waiting and wondering and hoping that the right time will be not far distant. But even when that time comes, I will not forget this time.

There are no signs in the wilderness... Or are there?

It’s been a long time since I had the courage to write anything. That’s a story of its own, but when I stopped, I was already writing this post in my head, and I have thought about it often. Lets see if it still makes any sense. 

Not quite a year ago my husband and I were excited for the annual family campout organized for our ward here in Provo. Not that we would actually consider taking our toddlers to spend the night in a tent. We just like to go up for dinner and hang out with our friends until we are tired of chasing the kids away from the fire or the water or the cookies. Ok, mostly we just show up at the campsite, try to convince our kids to please eat something, and then run around frantically trying to keep them safe. So it’s really fun… for the kids. For us I guess its mostly just a change of scenery. And a chance to make sure we are all going to sleep really well tonight. Yet every year when it gets announced, we get excited for it all over again. But I digress. 

Last year when time came, our family was pretty stressed out financially, which also caused emotional and spiritual stress. We were looking forward to a break, even if it was just a few hours. There wasn’t much gas in our car, but surely enough to get us there and back. It might have been 30 miles round trip. I volunteered to cook in my crockpot some of the chicken that was provided. We loaded our girls into the car, I put the crockpot on some towels at my feet, and we set off, excited for a little adventure. 

I had looked up directions to the campsite and they were not hard to follow. We were promised that someone would go up early and leave clear signs along the way. I knew what the map said, but I had never been to this place. We started up the mountain confident that we knew as much as we could about where we were going. There was a sign for another group at the bottom of the mountain, but we weren’t worried. We knew we were on the right path so far. Surely the signs for our group would be there further up the road. We made the last turn our instructions indicated, and quickly the paved road ended. Our ’95 Buick Century wasn’t going to last long driving on all these rocks, but surely the campsite couldn’t be that far now. 

After about 15 minutes of unpaved road we were pretty frustrated. We kept our eyes sharp for any indication of a turn off that might be our destination. We were sliding all over the place and it was really frightening. There were cars coming from behind to pass us, not very safely to put it nicely. My husband started doubting that I knew what I was talking about (since I was the only one who had seen the directions) and that was not helping my waning confidence. 

Another 10 minutes. There were no signs for our group anywhere. And this particular 15 mile trip from home was not as efficient for our gas tank as we had been counting on. At this point we travelled forward out of desperation, thinking that it would somehow be better to run out of gas among friends rather than on the side of a dangerous road in the dark. Five more minutes and we saw a sign for the other group that said “Ya casi!” That’s Spanish for “you’re almost there.” At that point we were beyond frustrated. Certain now that we must have been led astray, we passed the place where the Spanish group was having their camp out and decided to turn around and hope that by some miracle we could make it home. 

Just as were were about to turn around, we saw Larry by his truck and we knew we were in the right place. But even at the campsite, there were still no signs. We were more than half an hour late, and only the third car to make it to the site. A few minutes later more of our friends started to show up. We had a good meal, connected with old and new friends, and let ourselves relax just a little while chasing toddlers and trying to forget for the moment that we had little hope of completing the journey home with the small amount of gas left in our tank. After all the stress, we still felt like being there was worth it. Even if we had to leave before it was time for s’mores. 

Nobody had gas with them, but when the time came to start our journey home, a friend offered to drive behind us until the road was paved. He also gave us money for gas, not even knowing our somewhat desperate financial circumstances. We made it up the rocky dirt road to the pavement, and then started back down the steep mountain. We prayed the whole way that our breaks wouldn’t be damaged, and that we would have enough gas to make it to the nearest station. Luckily our girls were sound asleep in the backseat. We made it to the gas station, and home safely. 

Are you still with me? There are more life lessons than I can count in this experience, but I’m going to focus on how this so obviously related to me then, and even now. 

In The Book of Mormon a prophet named Lehi led his family away from their home to a Promised Land which has been prepared for them by God. They traveled through the wilderness with directions given by God, but obviously there were no signs. They didn’t really know where they were going. They had no way of knowing how much further it was. They only knew that God had promised them a new home, better than anything they could imagine. Their only hope of getting there was to trust that He would lead them there. 

I am in the wilderness right now. I am so in the wilderness. In fact, for the purpose of this analogy lets just say that I will spend my entire mortal existence in the wilderness. I’m sorry if that sounds depressing. Bear with me. 

Sometimes I am painfully aware of my being in the wilderness. I look around and I can’t see anyone else. There are no signs. All these doubts start flooding in. What am I doing? Where am I going? Does anyone know I’m here? Did I miss a turn? I’ve been going on like this for a really long time. I’m really not feeling this part of the adventure. Hey, what’s that shiny thing over there? Maybe its for me. I think I’ll go check it out. And then I get even more frustrated when I find out that shiny thing is a mirage. I’m still in the wilderness, not feeling any closer to the promised land than I did before. So I keep going forward because I’m still in the wilderness. I have no other choice. This perspective does not make me happy.

Sometimes I have the humility to open my eyes and be amazed at how my Heavenly Father is guiding me through the wilderness. I am not alone. It can safely be assumed that we are all struggling with hard things at any given time. We are meant to lift and be lifted by one another. My path through the wilderness is not the same as yours, but where our paths meet we have an opportunity to support one another. There are wonders and miracles in the wilderness, leading us to the promised land. If I look for them, I can see them. I am filled with gratitude and joy. I have the strength to keep going. 

There are a few directions that we all have to follow in order to get there, but we aren’t going to see any signs with a giant arrow pointing “this way to Eternal Life!” Sometimes I really wish those signs existed, but that would defeat the purpose. I am in this wilderness to let my faith grow. I am learning to let my hope in what God has promised be enough to keep me moving forward no matter what. 

I am learning. The process is ongoing. There are more days than I like to admit that the thought crosses my mind it might be easier to just sit down where I am and refuse to move forward. But I have seen enough miracles in my life to carry me through those moments until I start to see more miracles. I have to keep moving forward. I have to trust that eventually the directions I have will get me to my promised land. 

And it’s going to be WAY better than a ward camp out. 

Ducklings vs. Stairs

My two year old is obsessed with animal videos on YouTube. Her favorite is the GoPro dolphins, but we recently discovered “Ducklings vs. Stairs”. 

I don’t know what frame of mind one has to be in to see life lessons in YouTube animal videos, but I guess that’s where I am right now. This spoke to my soul. I decided almost immediately that I needed to blog about this adorable little video, and I’ve been thinking about it all month. 

I am a baby duck. Most of the time when mama duck takes me for a walk, it’s pretty smooth sailing. Sometimes the walk is uphill, through the mud, or across a busy street. Sometimes I have to go around a really big rock or jump over a stick. That makes the adventure a little more difficult, but mama duck is in the lead and I can see her the whole time. My fellow ducklings all take turns overcoming the obstacles. We are getting stronger every day. 

One day we are following mama duck on a walk as usual, when she stops just for a moment at the bottom of a staircase, and then hops up the first stair. She calls for us to follow, and then hops up the next step, and the next. I can’t see her anymore, but she is still calling “follow me!” The steps are taller than I am. I don’t even know how many there are. How can mama duck expect me to follow her this way? It’s too hard! I don’t even know where she is leading me. 

The other ducklings and I are running from one end of the step to the other, hoping for an easier way. One of us begins jumping up as high as he can. He falls a few times, but then he makes it onto the next step. He calls down a word of encouragement before getting to work on the next step, determined not to let mama duck get too far away. She is still calling, “follow me”, but the sound is getting more and more faint. We all begin to wonder if she is going to leave us here. More out of desperation than believing I can make it, I begin to hop. I flap my tiny wings knowing I can’t fly, but hoping they will help me jump just a little higher. One by one my companions start to make the jump, and then I make it too! But all I can see is another step in front of me, just as high as the last. 

I am discouraged, but I hear mama duck calling again. She isn’t far. She won’t leave us here in our struggle. It doesn’t take as long to jump up the second step, and the third is even a little easier. One at a time each little duck reaches the top, where we find mama duck waiting to lead us on our way. This is the hardest thing we have ever done, but mama duck knew we were strong enough to follow her up those steps, and now we know it too. Without looking back, we keep on following. 

Right now I feel like I am in the middle of my own personal staircase. I have hope in the idea that my Heavenly Father is leading me to some sort of higher ground, but to be perfectly honest I don’t really know what’s going on. About two months ago I was at the bottom of the staircase. I didn’t think at that point that I could jump that high. Not even one step. But I did. And since then I’ve done it again and again. There have been a few times that I’ve felt completely left behind, but then a small miracle comes along. I know again that I am not alone. It isn’t enough to carry me to the top of the staircase, but enough to give me the boost I need to jump to the next step. Sure, it feels good to know I could make that jump, but with another step right in front of me it doesn’t take long before my discouragement settles in again. I am exhausted, sad, lonely, insecure, and even angry sometimes. I don’t know how long I can keep this up since I thought my limit was a long time ago. I don’t know how long this is going to take, and I don’t even really know what’s at the top of this particular staircase. 

All of this sounds pretty depressing, and you know what? It is. But through it all, I haven’t lost hope. Hope keeps me going when nothing else is left. I hope that there is actually a point to all of this. That when I get to the end of this obstacle, I will understand what I gained from it. I hope that I will be able to see clearly for a little while as I continue to do my best to follow my Heavenly Father’s plan for me. And I hope that I will make it through this trial with enough grace that I can be a good example for someone else someday, and not a bad one. 

We don’t get to see the whole story when we watch this video. It’s hard not to judge the mama duck for not finding an easier way for 12 ducklings to follow her. One of the onlookers even wonders if he should help them. That would have made their lives easier for a moment, but what about the next time they encountered stairs? Sometimes we just need to find out what we are capable of. We get to a point in life where we feel stuck, and the only way out is up. Up a step that is taller than we are. These are the times we find more strength within us than we knew we had. Our Father in Heaven knows we can reach the top of the staircase, or He wouldn’t have brought us this way. I really do believe that with all my heart. That’s what keeps me going, one step at a time. 

The Picture Perfect Modern Mom

We all know exactly what I’m talking about. That one lady who has it all together. She has a beautiful home that is always clean. There is a perfect place for everything. Her children are beautiful and well behaved and never bored. She works out, she eats healthy, her hair and make up are always flawless. She volunteers at her children’s schools and never misses a PTA meeting. She is probably the president. She is a seamstress, a professional organizer, and a gourmet cook. During the summer her garden produces bucket loads of perfect vegetables. Her husband walks in the door at 5:00 pm every weekday to a delicious and healthy home cooked meal. She also cooks dinner at least once a week for friends and neighbors in need. She updates the family blog weekly with pictures and anecdotes of her happy life. She hosts a weekly book club, and is always knowledgeable on current events. She is well traveled. Her home is full of beautiful hand made decorations that match the season. Her Christmas cards are stamped and sealed before Halloween, but she won’t mail them until the day after Thanksgiving. She bakes plates of delicious goodies for all of her neighbors during the holidays, and never forgets anyone. The college funds she and her husband set up for each of their children as soon as they were conceived are growing nicely. She likely has a respectable full time job, or a small business run out of her home.

You know who she is. You hate to love her and you love to hate her. You think about her constantly as you struggle to get through your most hectic days. Which seems to be all of them. Everything you do right or wrong is judged against how she would have done it. You know everything about her except one thing. Her name. Because I promise you, she doesn’t exist. We all think we know a woman who is everything we want to be. We might even give her the name of someone we know. But in truth she only lives in our imagination. She is comprised of only the best parts of everyone we know. 

What does “picture perfect” literally represent? A picture is only a moment in time. Less than a second! And yet we so often compare out entire being to someone else’s picture perfect moment. How is that fair to us, or to her? Let’s consider a likely reality behind that perfect family photo we all want to present to the world. That “perfect modern mom” might have spent some good time and money getting coordinated outfits for everyone to wear for the photo session, or maybe she didn’t. Either way, right before they leave the house, a toddler spills something colorful very prominently on his outfit and mom has to scramble to find something else he can wear that will “go”, or maybe it won’t. The kids are all on edge because they’ve been threatened that they better smile and behave and not get dirty or else. The baby didn’t take her morning nap, but she falls asleep as soon as she is in the car, and is not happy to be awakened. Dad has a bad attitude because he doesn’t think anyone can get the whole family to look at the same place at the same time and smile. What a waste of time and money, The oldest girl is complaining that her brother is leaning on her too much, but he protests that this is what the photographer told him to do and if she doesn’t like it then they can take the picture without him. Mom coaxes him back, but she knows he won’t look happy. It’s over. This is a lost cause. She can’t believe how much time she spent on her hair and make up for this. But miracle of miracles, when she looks through the photos there is one perfect picture with everyone looking at the camera with bright shining faces. She doesn’t even remember this happening, but this is the one. This is the picture she is going to share with the world. It might even go on their Christmas card, if she gets around to it this year. And if she isn’t careful, she might forget the way that photo session really happened, and start to judge herself and her family by that one perfect snap of a moment in time, which she doesn’t even actually remember. And when she receives the first Christmas card of the season and sees the lovely photo of her friend’s family she will make assumptions about that picture perfect family, and feel the pang of guilt that means she forgot about Christmas cards again this year. 

We spend so much time creating out own version of “picture perfect” to present to the world. How it is not obvious that all of the “perfect” people we know are surely doing the same thing? Why do we do this to ourselves over and over again? Why do we compare out worst days with someone else’s best seconds? I can tell you that I do this all the time and it is just miserable! No good can come of it. It doesn’t make me better. It doesn’t motivate me to change. It is a lie. 

There’s a motivational quote that keeps popping up in my little corner of the internet these days. “The only person you should try to be better than is the person you were yesterday.” I sometimes need to remind myself that my goal in life is not to someday be as awesome as my neighbor. My goal is PROGRESS. Every single day I can wake up with the intention of choosing to do better than I did yesterday. And if it doesn’t happen, I can wake up the next day with the same intention. 

I’m not saying there are not women who do every single thing I listed at the beginning of these post and more during their lifetime. But I promise you, it is never all at once. We live our lives by times and seasons. We can’t judge ourselves by another person’s timeline, and we can’t judge others by what we think they should have accomplished by now. The Dali Lama said, “Love is the absence of judgement.” Basically we should all stop judging and just love! Love ourselves, love our friends, love our neighbors, love our enemies. Give everyone the benefit of the doubt. All that time and energy we spend comparing ourselves could be put to better use improving ourselves. 

Henry B. Eyring shared some advice he was given as a young man. “When you meet someone, treat them as if they were in serious trouble, and you will be right more than half the time.” This advice does sound like the extreme opposite of assuming the best of everyone except ourselves, but the results are much better for everyone involved. If we go about our day expecting that people would welcome our sincere love and friendship and service we can’t go wrong.