Last week was our first week of many with Sky gone Monday through Friday. And... it felt long. Surprise, surprise. I just have to make sure that I get out each day for something, otherwise I'll start throwing myself a grand pity party. And I'm so over pity parties.
So let's review last week. Yeehaw!
Monday we spent the evening with Jill and her boys. Her husband travels too. Jill and I have recently been mistaken for sisters, which is funny because I think the only thing we really have in common is the same hair length. I should point out that it's been all men who've commented, which makes me want to make some joke about how men aren't very observant, but I will refrain. Well, sort of. Anyway, Jill is great except that whenever we hangout, which is a lot, I never leave on time, or even close to it, because we just have so much to talk about! You have those kinds of friends too, yeah? I hope so. Everyone should have those kinds of friends.
Tuesday I have no idea what I did. WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO MY MEMORY?? Oh wait!! My friend Cyrena (who is another one of those kinds of friends) and her boys came over for the morning!
Wednesday was ward playgroup. I like playgroup. I also happen to be in charge of it, so I really have to go or else people will probably judge me.
Thursday we went strawberry picking! Except we almost didn't make it because there was construction going on, and my GPS refused to figure out a new route so I just kept driving around and around in circles and ending up in the same stupid spot on Montgomery Road and I was so close to cursing (I don't curse, ever. Did you know that? Except one time when I was 8 or so and was walking to church with Erin and I was trying to come up with all the things that rhymed with 'witchy' and it really didn't take long before 'bitchy' came out of my mouth. Erin gasped and I felt awful. Whoops.) But once I gave up on getting to the strawberry patch and told Cyrena to pick without me, I somehow found my way. A true Christmas miracle. Jude mostly just stomped on all the strawberry plants and I honestly didn't work very hard to stop him because I just wanted to pick my strawberries in peace and he was very happy stomping. Great parenting!
Friday was Kroger day. Jude is usually pretty terrible when we go grocery shopping. By the end of the trip he's usually standing up in his seat with his arms tightly around my neck and shoulders, yelling in Arabic-French because I didn't grab any string cheese or some other convenience snack food item. This configuration makes it very difficult to maneuver an overflowing cart. Just kidding, I never have an overflowing cart. I just wanted to say that. But it IS often heavy. Anyway, I'm not asking for pity and I'm also not asking for discipline ideas. I'm just telling you what we did on Friday morning.
And then SKYLER CAME HOME! We went swimming that night and on Saturday I taught my Bradley class, practiced the organ, and Skyler got Jude a toddler swing for the tree in the front yard. Sunday was Fast Sunday, except that I don't fast because I'm pregnant and nursing and I really can't go longer than 30 minutes without eating. And now it's Monday and Sky is gone again. Until next time!
6.08.2015
6.02.2015
Starting in June
I've never wanted to be a day-to-day mommy blogger. It's Boring, with a capital B. But that is my life, and I'm feeling the urgency to keep some sort of record of it. So here we go.
Jude is 16 months, which feels like a combination of 16 years and 16 days. He's our child, so of course we think he's the best. He is busy, busy, busy and knows exactly how to push my buttons (unroll all the toilet paper, climb on top of the table, start the dishwasher, and pull the covers off the air vents and stuff toys/food down them - if you were wondering). He is typically super well-behaved, but can throw a pretty amazing tantrum when he feels it necessary.
For memory's sake: great eater, still nursing despite a pregnant belly getting in the way (a post for another time), stick collector, loves dogs. Oh yeah, and sooooo blond!
Skyler is still traveling each week. Starting this week he extends an extra day, making him gone Monday-Friday. We're both worn by this schedule, of course. But there is no end in sight, so we've learned to adjust and be happy apart, which is sad.
I'm 28 weeks pregnant, which basically makes me fat, hot, hungry, tired, and on the verge of wetting my pants at all times. What a life! This has actually been a far superior pregnancy to Jude's, though, so I'm not really complaining. We've thought very little about this large upcoming change (sorry, baby), which has made time fly by! We're planning a homebirth (another post for another time) and feel super solid about it. I'm teaching Bradley Method classes, which is amazing. People pay me to talk their ear off about natural childbirth in the comfort of my own home (sorry to all family members and friends who used to have to listen to me rant).
My goal is to write at least once a week. I'm writing it down to make me accountable. TTFN.
Jude is 16 months, which feels like a combination of 16 years and 16 days. He's our child, so of course we think he's the best. He is busy, busy, busy and knows exactly how to push my buttons (unroll all the toilet paper, climb on top of the table, start the dishwasher, and pull the covers off the air vents and stuff toys/food down them - if you were wondering). He is typically super well-behaved, but can throw a pretty amazing tantrum when he feels it necessary.
For memory's sake: great eater, still nursing despite a pregnant belly getting in the way (a post for another time), stick collector, loves dogs. Oh yeah, and sooooo blond!
Skyler is still traveling each week. Starting this week he extends an extra day, making him gone Monday-Friday. We're both worn by this schedule, of course. But there is no end in sight, so we've learned to adjust and be happy apart, which is sad.
I'm 28 weeks pregnant, which basically makes me fat, hot, hungry, tired, and on the verge of wetting my pants at all times. What a life! This has actually been a far superior pregnancy to Jude's, though, so I'm not really complaining. We've thought very little about this large upcoming change (sorry, baby), which has made time fly by! We're planning a homebirth (another post for another time) and feel super solid about it. I'm teaching Bradley Method classes, which is amazing. People pay me to talk their ear off about natural childbirth in the comfort of my own home (sorry to all family members and friends who used to have to listen to me rant).
My goal is to write at least once a week. I'm writing it down to make me accountable. TTFN.
1.01.2015
2014
I'm not going to sugarcoat anything: 2014 was the hardest year of my life. I realize that's not very impressive, as I've only had 24 years of life. Wait, am I 24? 25? I think I'm 24. Confirmed. 24.
So yeah, anyway, hardest year. Turns out that motherhood doesn't come naturally to everyone and it takes, like, at least 6 months to feel like yourself after having a baby and sometimes you have to see a sleep specialist just so you can relearn how to fall asleep in less than 3 hours at night. AND NOW YOU KNOW ALL OF MY PROBLEMS.
Well, past problems. Life is actually pretty great right now. I've read so many books this past year that sometimes I forget that I've read one and I'll get about 15 pages into what I think is a new book and think, "Wait, I think I've already read this." Do you do that, too? It's not the worst problem in the world, but it is a problem.
So now that I have you thinking that I hate being a mom, I will tell you how wrong you are. It took a few months for me to tame the anxiety that comes when you grow a mother heart, but now I'm good. I'm actually a pretty stellar mom.
Skyler still travels like 75% of the time, so that sucks, but we manage just fine. When my dad was growing up and didn't want to go to church, he was given two options: go to church happy or go to church sad. So that's my motto about hard life. I can either do it happy or do it crabby (which I choose more often than I'd like to admit), but either way I have to do it.
Glad I could end on such an awesomely cliche note.
So yeah, anyway, hardest year. Turns out that motherhood doesn't come naturally to everyone and it takes, like, at least 6 months to feel like yourself after having a baby and sometimes you have to see a sleep specialist just so you can relearn how to fall asleep in less than 3 hours at night. AND NOW YOU KNOW ALL OF MY PROBLEMS.
Well, past problems. Life is actually pretty great right now. I've read so many books this past year that sometimes I forget that I've read one and I'll get about 15 pages into what I think is a new book and think, "Wait, I think I've already read this." Do you do that, too? It's not the worst problem in the world, but it is a problem.
So now that I have you thinking that I hate being a mom, I will tell you how wrong you are. It took a few months for me to tame the anxiety that comes when you grow a mother heart, but now I'm good. I'm actually a pretty stellar mom.
Skyler still travels like 75% of the time, so that sucks, but we manage just fine. When my dad was growing up and didn't want to go to church, he was given two options: go to church happy or go to church sad. So that's my motto about hard life. I can either do it happy or do it crabby (which I choose more often than I'd like to admit), but either way I have to do it.
Glad I could end on such an awesomely cliche note.
5.08.2014
On Postpartum Depression
I'm hesitant to write this. But if there's one thing I've been told over and over and over again throughout this experience, it is that I will be able to help others in the future. I hope that sharing this will help someone, anyone.
Throughout my pregnancy, I focused so much on labor and delivery that I had little room to think about actually caring for a baby. When I did, I imagined baby and me lounging around all day, feeding, napping, and staring at each other in pure bliss. The adrenaline from having a natural birth was going to fuel me through the sleepless nights. I remember shortly after my sister had her first child, she told me she was exhausted but had never been happier. We're sisters, so I'd have a similar experience, right?
That first week was hell. I had no appetite, no happiness and I couldn't sleep. OH THE INSOMNIA. It'd be 3am, Jude and Sky would be fast asleep, and I'd be wide awake, wishing I could go back to the life I'd had just a week earlier. It was like my body had forgotten how to fall asleep. I had never felt more lonely or overwhelmed. Which brought on the anxiety. OH THE ANXIETY. Anxiety about nursing and sleeping (for both him and me). Anxiety about anyone else holding him. Anxiety about my anxiety. Then there was the guilt. OH THE GUILT. Didn't we want a baby? Hadn't we spent thousands of dollars on fertility treatment?
I assumed all of this to be the infamous 'baby blues.' Everyone told me that the first few weeks were hard, but that it'll just keep getting easier and easier. And that was somewhat true. The second week was a little better than the first. And the third week was a little better than the second. And the fourth a little better than the third. I was sleeping ok, and while I still didn't feel happy, I didn't constantly feel sad. I was still dealing with severe anxiety, but that just meant I was a good mom, right?
I remember talking with my sister during this time.
"Do you love being a mom?!"
I lied. The answer was no. I didn't love it. But I kept patiently waiting to. Surely it was going to come soon; it was just a matter of time.
Between 6 and 7 weeks postpartum, things got worse. My anxiety reached an all time high - so much so that I couldn't think of anything else. I had a hard time following conversations and even watching movies. My ability to sleep started declining rapidly and one night I couldn't fall asleep at all. I stayed up all night long, so frustrated with myself and seriously questioning my sanity. Skyler woke up with me laying next to him in tears.
"Do you think I have postpartum depression?"
"Maybe a little bit."
I met with my midwife the next morning, where she got me started on a treatment plan. She was very down to earth and I found a lot of relief in that. It wasn't my fault. I wasn't a bad mom or a bad person. I was going to be happy again. I was going to feel like me again.
***
It's only been a short 2 months since all of this, but what a world of difference 2 months can make. I still have trouble falling and staying asleep, but I don't spend all day dreading the night. I still have bad times, but overall I feel happy. Jude makes me enjoy the days, even when he's being a little snot. It's all a work in progress. A work in progress. Motherhood.
Throughout my pregnancy, I focused so much on labor and delivery that I had little room to think about actually caring for a baby. When I did, I imagined baby and me lounging around all day, feeding, napping, and staring at each other in pure bliss. The adrenaline from having a natural birth was going to fuel me through the sleepless nights. I remember shortly after my sister had her first child, she told me she was exhausted but had never been happier. We're sisters, so I'd have a similar experience, right?
That first week was hell. I had no appetite, no happiness and I couldn't sleep. OH THE INSOMNIA. It'd be 3am, Jude and Sky would be fast asleep, and I'd be wide awake, wishing I could go back to the life I'd had just a week earlier. It was like my body had forgotten how to fall asleep. I had never felt more lonely or overwhelmed. Which brought on the anxiety. OH THE ANXIETY. Anxiety about nursing and sleeping (for both him and me). Anxiety about anyone else holding him. Anxiety about my anxiety. Then there was the guilt. OH THE GUILT. Didn't we want a baby? Hadn't we spent thousands of dollars on fertility treatment?
I assumed all of this to be the infamous 'baby blues.' Everyone told me that the first few weeks were hard, but that it'll just keep getting easier and easier. And that was somewhat true. The second week was a little better than the first. And the third week was a little better than the second. And the fourth a little better than the third. I was sleeping ok, and while I still didn't feel happy, I didn't constantly feel sad. I was still dealing with severe anxiety, but that just meant I was a good mom, right?
I remember talking with my sister during this time.
"Do you love being a mom?!"
I lied. The answer was no. I didn't love it. But I kept patiently waiting to. Surely it was going to come soon; it was just a matter of time.
Between 6 and 7 weeks postpartum, things got worse. My anxiety reached an all time high - so much so that I couldn't think of anything else. I had a hard time following conversations and even watching movies. My ability to sleep started declining rapidly and one night I couldn't fall asleep at all. I stayed up all night long, so frustrated with myself and seriously questioning my sanity. Skyler woke up with me laying next to him in tears.
"Do you think I have postpartum depression?"
"Maybe a little bit."
I met with my midwife the next morning, where she got me started on a treatment plan. She was very down to earth and I found a lot of relief in that. It wasn't my fault. I wasn't a bad mom or a bad person. I was going to be happy again. I was going to feel like me again.
***
It's only been a short 2 months since all of this, but what a world of difference 2 months can make. I still have trouble falling and staying asleep, but I don't spend all day dreading the night. I still have bad times, but overall I feel happy. Jude makes me enjoy the days, even when he's being a little snot. It's all a work in progress. A work in progress. Motherhood.
2.04.2014
Birth Story: Jude August
Skyler and I prepared for a natural birth using the Bradley Method. I am so glad we did; I could not have done it without the constant mental and physical support from him.
A few days before my due date I started having contractions 20 minutes apart. The next day they came 10 minutes apart and that night they had gotten to be 4 minutes apart, but were not increasing in intensity. This went on for an entire week. My mom flew in 2 days after my due date and for 3 days we did as much walking as we could handle. Contractions continued to consistently come and we were all getting a little antsy. We figured that once labor did start, I would jump right into active labor. We were right.
Around 8:45am on Sunday, January 26th, labor started. It was rather convenient, really. We'd slept well the night before and I ate a good breakfast. Contractions came at least every 5 minutes, lasting just under a minute. I wanted to labor at home as long as possible so we tried to stay busy, playing yahtzee and picking up around the apartment. After a few hours, I needed to focus through the contractions more. I spent the next couple of hours on my hands and knees or bending over the side of a mattress, Skyler pushing on my hips and lower back. I also got in the shower and labored on my side in bed for a while, but found little relief in that. I was so determined to eat lunch before going to the hospital to keep up my strength. I'm not sure it was my finest idea. "I'll probably throw that up later," I said. At 2pm, contractions were 3-4 minutes apart, lasting at least a minute. I was getting very uncomfortable. We called my midwife and told her we were headed to the hospital.
We got to skip triage at the hospital and went straight to our room. We asked them to start filling up the birthing tub and once my midwife got there, she checked me. I was disappointed to only be dilated 4cm, but glad to be 100% effaced and at a 0 station (baby was low). I got in the tub and eventually Skyler joined me. My contractions slowed down and shortened. As much as I enjoyed the break, it was overwhelming to think about how long this process was going to take. I enjoyed the sort of weightless feeling of being in the tub, but after about an hour I decided I needed to get out and start walking. My contractions immediately picked up. We walked around and around the unit, Skyler holding my hand until a contraction came. When one did, I would turn and hold on to the railing of the wall, brace myself, and Sky would push against my lower back. After about an hour of this, I got the sudden urge to push. The midwife checked me. I had gone to a 6 in two hours, but no pushing allowed. Time starts to get really hazy here. We continued walking around and around the hospital. I was getting exhausted and hardly opened my eyes from here until delivery. I started talking about needing to throw up, and on the next contraction, did just that. We were right in front of the nurses' station, so a few of them ran over and started covering it with towels. I threw up absolutely everything, which was a lot. We went back into the room and my midwife was talking about signs of transition. I kept complaining about the need to push with each contraction, so we had her check me again. Still a 6. She offered to break my water, but we decided to hold off. I sat and rolled on a birthing ball for a while, then tried out the shower again. I only lasted a few contractions in there. I came back out into the room and walked/bounced around and around. During a contraction I would brace myself against a counter while Sky pushed on my back. Every contraction I would yell out that I wanted to push and my legs would shake underneath me as I resisted. After a while of this, the midwife encouraged me to lay down to give me a rest from all the "dancing," as she called it. I reeeeally didn't want to lay down, but finally gave in. I kept Sky pushing on my back while laying on my side, harder and harder with each contraction. Contractions came one on top of the other and I just focused on breathing through them, all the while yelling about needing to push. The midwife checked me again and I had gone to a 7. While she was checking, my water broke. I got a little frantic about it. "My water broke! My water broke! My water broke!" She calmed me down, telling me everything was fine. It was around 8pm at this point. I knew things were getting close. For the next couple of hours, I labored on the bed, Skyler pushing on my back the whole time. The contractions got more and more intense, along with the need to push. My whole body was shaking. I got checked every half an hour or so and every time it was "just a few more contractions, you're almost there." Finally, after a particularly hard contraction, my midwife said, "Ok, you can start pushing. Go ahead. Push." I was shocked! It felt so much more productive to be pushing. I was in a sort of modified squat and had them bring a squatting bar for me to use. I pulled on that bar so hard my arms and shoulders were sore for days after. I don't know how effective my pushing was at first, but eventually I got into the groove and could feel baby coming down. I pushed for an hour and the midwife told me to look down to see baby's head. The midwife was great at guiding my pushing and within fifteen minutes, at 11:04pm, Jude was born. They put him right on me and I was in absolute awe. "It's a boy!" I couldn't believe we had actually done it and that baby was here.
After giving birth, I am so impressed by any female who has done it, no matter which route they took. It is hard stuff! I think it's important to have the birth that you want and plan for and I'm so grateful ours went as smoothly as it did.
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A few days before my due date I started having contractions 20 minutes apart. The next day they came 10 minutes apart and that night they had gotten to be 4 minutes apart, but were not increasing in intensity. This went on for an entire week. My mom flew in 2 days after my due date and for 3 days we did as much walking as we could handle. Contractions continued to consistently come and we were all getting a little antsy. We figured that once labor did start, I would jump right into active labor. We were right.
Around 8:45am on Sunday, January 26th, labor started. It was rather convenient, really. We'd slept well the night before and I ate a good breakfast. Contractions came at least every 5 minutes, lasting just under a minute. I wanted to labor at home as long as possible so we tried to stay busy, playing yahtzee and picking up around the apartment. After a few hours, I needed to focus through the contractions more. I spent the next couple of hours on my hands and knees or bending over the side of a mattress, Skyler pushing on my hips and lower back. I also got in the shower and labored on my side in bed for a while, but found little relief in that. I was so determined to eat lunch before going to the hospital to keep up my strength. I'm not sure it was my finest idea. "I'll probably throw that up later," I said. At 2pm, contractions were 3-4 minutes apart, lasting at least a minute. I was getting very uncomfortable. We called my midwife and told her we were headed to the hospital.
We got to skip triage at the hospital and went straight to our room. We asked them to start filling up the birthing tub and once my midwife got there, she checked me. I was disappointed to only be dilated 4cm, but glad to be 100% effaced and at a 0 station (baby was low). I got in the tub and eventually Skyler joined me. My contractions slowed down and shortened. As much as I enjoyed the break, it was overwhelming to think about how long this process was going to take. I enjoyed the sort of weightless feeling of being in the tub, but after about an hour I decided I needed to get out and start walking. My contractions immediately picked up. We walked around and around the unit, Skyler holding my hand until a contraction came. When one did, I would turn and hold on to the railing of the wall, brace myself, and Sky would push against my lower back. After about an hour of this, I got the sudden urge to push. The midwife checked me. I had gone to a 6 in two hours, but no pushing allowed. Time starts to get really hazy here. We continued walking around and around the hospital. I was getting exhausted and hardly opened my eyes from here until delivery. I started talking about needing to throw up, and on the next contraction, did just that. We were right in front of the nurses' station, so a few of them ran over and started covering it with towels. I threw up absolutely everything, which was a lot. We went back into the room and my midwife was talking about signs of transition. I kept complaining about the need to push with each contraction, so we had her check me again. Still a 6. She offered to break my water, but we decided to hold off. I sat and rolled on a birthing ball for a while, then tried out the shower again. I only lasted a few contractions in there. I came back out into the room and walked/bounced around and around. During a contraction I would brace myself against a counter while Sky pushed on my back. Every contraction I would yell out that I wanted to push and my legs would shake underneath me as I resisted. After a while of this, the midwife encouraged me to lay down to give me a rest from all the "dancing," as she called it. I reeeeally didn't want to lay down, but finally gave in. I kept Sky pushing on my back while laying on my side, harder and harder with each contraction. Contractions came one on top of the other and I just focused on breathing through them, all the while yelling about needing to push. The midwife checked me again and I had gone to a 7. While she was checking, my water broke. I got a little frantic about it. "My water broke! My water broke! My water broke!" She calmed me down, telling me everything was fine. It was around 8pm at this point. I knew things were getting close. For the next couple of hours, I labored on the bed, Skyler pushing on my back the whole time. The contractions got more and more intense, along with the need to push. My whole body was shaking. I got checked every half an hour or so and every time it was "just a few more contractions, you're almost there." Finally, after a particularly hard contraction, my midwife said, "Ok, you can start pushing. Go ahead. Push." I was shocked! It felt so much more productive to be pushing. I was in a sort of modified squat and had them bring a squatting bar for me to use. I pulled on that bar so hard my arms and shoulders were sore for days after. I don't know how effective my pushing was at first, but eventually I got into the groove and could feel baby coming down. I pushed for an hour and the midwife told me to look down to see baby's head. The midwife was great at guiding my pushing and within fifteen minutes, at 11:04pm, Jude was born. They put him right on me and I was in absolute awe. "It's a boy!" I couldn't believe we had actually done it and that baby was here.
After giving birth, I am so impressed by any female who has done it, no matter which route they took. It is hard stuff! I think it's important to have the birth that you want and plan for and I'm so grateful ours went as smoothly as it did.
Laboring at home
At the hospital
In the birthing tub
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Looking fabulous, resting between pushing
Baby Jude
Done!
10.26.2013
Part Three
There were a number of things that dramatically increased my mood during those short hours before our reception. The first was food. For some reason it never occurred to us during the planning stages to set aside a time to eat lunch, dinner, or even a snack. BAD MOVE.
The second was a conversation with my dad. I don't know what it is, but dads, and only dads, often know the exact thing to say to take you from tears to a stable enough emotional state where you can effectively redo your makeup without crying it all off. That's important. Especially on your wedding day.
The third was that Snowmageddon still hadn't shown up. So that's always good.
And the last thing was that I remembered I was finally married! And to the most patient, kind and solid guy. He's pretty great.
I know what you're thinking: where was Sky during all of this? That is a good question. He was at home feeling terrible. Don't worry, I still feel awful about it.
About 45 minutes before our reception, he picked me back up and we drove over to BYU. We finally got to experience that giddy car ride together. You know, the "I can't believe we're married" car ride. Things were finally looking up, despite the fact that we were still fully expecting no one to actually show up to the reception because of the weather. Well, "weather."
The second was a conversation with my dad. I don't know what it is, but dads, and only dads, often know the exact thing to say to take you from tears to a stable enough emotional state where you can effectively redo your makeup without crying it all off. That's important. Especially on your wedding day.
The third was that Snowmageddon still hadn't shown up. So that's always good.
And the last thing was that I remembered I was finally married! And to the most patient, kind and solid guy. He's pretty great.
I know what you're thinking: where was Sky during all of this? That is a good question. He was at home feeling terrible. Don't worry, I still feel awful about it.
About 45 minutes before our reception, he picked me back up and we drove over to BYU. We finally got to experience that giddy car ride together. You know, the "I can't believe we're married" car ride. Things were finally looking up, despite the fact that we were still fully expecting no one to actually show up to the reception because of the weather. Well, "weather."
10.22.2013
Part Two
He came and picked me up. I was feeling overwhelmed and we both knew it. He told me I looked beautiful and held my hand as we drove to the temple and then again after we were both changed and waiting in a small room by ourselves. Our ceremony was lovely and just like that, we were married.
I knew that the weather was supposed to be bad that day; a storm was supposed to blow in later that evening. No big deal though, right? Right? RIGHT?
We finished up taking pictures shortly after 3pm. Our cheeks were sore from smiling and I was excited to get out of the cold and have a few hours to relax before the reception. As we headed back inside to change, Erin pulled me aside. She informed me of the incoming storm -- Snowmageddon, she called it. It was predicted to be so bad that BYU had closed its campus to give all the students a headstart out of Provo to wherever they were traveling for Thanksgiving. Did I mention that our reception was planned for the Skyroom AT BYU?
"If you reeeeeeally want to, they'll keep it open for you, but we can just reschedule for another weekend and you guys can leave for your honeymoon right now!"
Nothing like that kind of news to get you riled up for your honeymoon.
Well, I did what any other girl would do: I cried. I remember standing in the dressing room in the temple, Erin and my mom working as quickly as possible to unbutton the 30+ buttons running down the back of my dress, sobbing hysterically. Is this real? Is this real? Is this real?
I didn't want to be that girl. I wanted to be the girl who has everything go wrong and just shrugs it off. "I was so happy and in love, nothing could ruin my day." That's what those girls say.
Sky and I took our first drive as a married couple in (mostly) silence. We were supposed to be deciding what to do, but I was still having a hard time pulling myself together. He held my hand, being his usual patient self. We pulled up to my parents' house and sat in the driveway, finally talking through our options. We could either have the reception that night, with the risk of having no one show up as well as the risk of not making it up to Sundance for our honeymoon OR we could leave for Sundance right away and postpone the reception for another night. I'm not sure how long we discussed, but we eventually decided to move forward with the reception that night -- now less than 2 hours away.
I know it was incredibly selfish, but at that point I really needed just an hour of alone time. Plus I looked like hell and needed to clean up. So yes, essentially Sky dropped me off at my parents' house right after we got married. Nice.
I knew that the weather was supposed to be bad that day; a storm was supposed to blow in later that evening. No big deal though, right? Right? RIGHT?
We finished up taking pictures shortly after 3pm. Our cheeks were sore from smiling and I was excited to get out of the cold and have a few hours to relax before the reception. As we headed back inside to change, Erin pulled me aside. She informed me of the incoming storm -- Snowmageddon, she called it. It was predicted to be so bad that BYU had closed its campus to give all the students a headstart out of Provo to wherever they were traveling for Thanksgiving. Did I mention that our reception was planned for the Skyroom AT BYU?
"If you reeeeeeally want to, they'll keep it open for you, but we can just reschedule for another weekend and you guys can leave for your honeymoon right now!"
Nothing like that kind of news to get you riled up for your honeymoon.
Well, I did what any other girl would do: I cried. I remember standing in the dressing room in the temple, Erin and my mom working as quickly as possible to unbutton the 30+ buttons running down the back of my dress, sobbing hysterically. Is this real? Is this real? Is this real?
I didn't want to be that girl. I wanted to be the girl who has everything go wrong and just shrugs it off. "I was so happy and in love, nothing could ruin my day." That's what those girls say.
Sky and I took our first drive as a married couple in (mostly) silence. We were supposed to be deciding what to do, but I was still having a hard time pulling myself together. He held my hand, being his usual patient self. We pulled up to my parents' house and sat in the driveway, finally talking through our options. We could either have the reception that night, with the risk of having no one show up as well as the risk of not making it up to Sundance for our honeymoon OR we could leave for Sundance right away and postpone the reception for another night. I'm not sure how long we discussed, but we eventually decided to move forward with the reception that night -- now less than 2 hours away.
I know it was incredibly selfish, but at that point I really needed just an hour of alone time. Plus I looked like hell and needed to clean up. So yes, essentially Sky dropped me off at my parents' house right after we got married. Nice.
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