tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84672266591908497802024-03-13T04:05:02.212-05:00Hannah Explains It AllThe musings of a married, twenty-something, Californian-Texas/Oklahoma-transplant, journalist and artist.Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.comBlogger443125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-23640930604122546622019-12-01T17:18:00.000-06:002019-12-01T17:21:02.993-06:00In the Doldrums (Seven Months)<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">5/2/19<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This month has been hard for me. Some days I feel like I’ll never find balance again. The first few months of a new baby, it’s easier to have patience and think, “This is new” or “This is just for now.” But now that we’re in to the second half of your first year I’m feeling impatient. I’m feeling like I should have this figured out by now and I should have a routine. But I don’t. Every day feels like survival mode, and I feel I’ll never have balance again of having time for sleep or exercise or drawing or writing or anything ever again. It sounds dramatic, but if you ever have your own babies you’ll know what I mean. Even using the bathroom by myself these days feels like a luxury, and most days it feels like my circumstances will never, ever change. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’m just very much in the thick of it still. Sometimes that’s hard to accept when so much of my life the last year or so has been survival. But all I can do is the present. And here I am. Life gets a little bit easier here or there, and before I know it we’ll be on to the next chapter of life. At least you will entertain yourself for a little longer now. Though, you’re currently teething and comfort nursing more than usual. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You are still so picky about sleeping. Be it napping or night time, in a perfect Gwen-world you’d never leave my slide and would be able to nurse off and on. Great for you, but leaves me touched-out and sleep deprived. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">All this on top of trying to parent Mercedes, who is as busy and independent as ever as a 4-year-old. I struggle with follow through on discipline. And sometimes I find that discipline is harder on the parents than the kids. I don’t want to have to set boundaries, but I know the alternative of letting my kids go wild is way worse. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The fun of this last month has been watching you explore your environment more. You’re beginning to experiment with wiggling and early crawling. You are enjoying exploring foods and feeding yourself. And you’ve discovered Mercedes is a fun play companion, and you laugh at her more than anybody else. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What’s the moral this time? I don’t know. I guess it’s that sometimes we just have to endure stretches of life and that’s okay. Not every day or moment or stage is going to be magical. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth living. Or that I love you any less!<br /><br />I love you, Gwen,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Mama </span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-71860815188907713302019-04-02T15:57:00.000-05:002019-12-01T16:09:54.560-06:00On Joy and Sorrow (Six Months)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">4/2/19<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Gwendolyn,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In the span of one week this month we had the opportunity to watch two friends expand their families. One here in mortality, and the other, heartbreakingly, for the eternities. Being present at an adoption finalization and at an infant’s funeral in the same week lent me so much perspective.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Adding a new soul in to a family changes the dynamic, no matter how the soul came to the family or for how long you have them earth side. Though adjusting to serving a new family member can feel soul-stretching, adding you to our family has also been a force of peace and joy. Having you with us is a reminder that life is often as sweet as it is bitter, and if we do it right, we can let the bitterness inspire and improve our sweet moments.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When I heard my friend, Xai, had lost her premature baby, Kinsley, I felt so crushed for her. The baby was born at 28 weeks and lived for an hour. This is Xai’s third baby to die prematurely. She has two living sons. I wrote a card for her, expressing my sympathies, sharing my testimony, and offering my help when she’s ready. I had Mercedes draw on the other half of the card. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I should have taken a pic of the card. Mercy drew a rainbow, clouds, rain, a sun, a flower and a “tree.” Last week while we read scriptures we read about when Christ calms the tempest. Mercedes really latched on to when he says “peace, be still.” When I told her what happened to Xai and her baby I asked if she wanted me to write anything for her in the card. She said something about how we can be a family forever. I asked Mercy if she wanted to say something about Jesus and she brought up that scripture. I thought it was so sweet. I wrote under her picture “Mercy wants you to know that Jesus said, ‘Peace, be still.’” I think it’ll make Xai smile. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Attending an infant’s funeral, you might expect to see a mother deep in the throes of grief. But not Xai. Instead, she was resolute in her faith and bore testimony of the miracle of Christ’s Atonement. She shared her gratitude for feeling the peace of Christ’s love through the solidarity and service of her loved ones. She testified of the joy of knowing families are forever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">During the funeral, I wore you in my sling and cried for Xai. I wished I could do something for her, but all I had was my sympathy. Knowing how much I love you, I know how much she loved Kinsley. But much to Xai’s eternal credit, knowing loss has only increased her gratitude and joy. She is a true example to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This month also brought us the ability to donate pumped breast milk to the San Jose Mother’s Milk Bank. Becoming a mother came with growing pains and becoming a mother of two has been no exception. I have cried my share of tears over the lonely, thankless monotony that is motherhood of young children. I am tired. And sometimes I feel invisible to the world. You scarcely want to be put down — even when napping — and it leaves me yearning for some autonomy from you. Being able to donate my milk — our milk — has been a way to live outside myself. It’s something I can do in this stage of life to serve and love others outside of myself and our immediate family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So much of life is on hold right now as I mother you. My opportunities outside of the home are limited. And while I’m comfortable with that — this is a stage to be cherished — sometimes I am left feeling lost and depleted. I sometimes yearn for my “old” self that is defined beyond my own four walls. Being able to pump and donate our excess milk has been a blessing for me. The privilege of it is not lost on me. It is a privilege to be a mother, to nourish my babies with my own body, to be home with them full-time. It is a privilege that both of us are healthy enough to be able to donate. My life is not without very real trials — of health concerns, of financial trouble and sacrifice — but when I pump, I remind myself there are so many who wherever they are, whatever their burdens, need help in carrying their load. Being able to pump and donate has been but another reminder this month that true joy is often accompanied by real sacrifice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You are an absolute “milk monster.” And during my two weeks of a sinus infection this last month it felt like such a burden. I couldn’t take whatever medications I wanted to take. But when I stopped to nurse you — your body would relax and I got to slow down to notice all your details: your halo of wispy curls, your pudgy, dimpled hands caressing my own, your long lashes, and your blue eyes. I wouldn’t trade that time for anything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I hope that our milk brings comfort to a baby and their mama somewhere. A baby who also needs comfort, who needs good health and strength, and a mama who needs to know her sacrifices don’t go unseen and that she’s doing her best by her baby. I hope it gives a mama pause, and helps her slow down and find gratitude in whatever difficult journey she is going through.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Gwen, I hope wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, you look for ways to serve. I hope you use the talents Heavenly Father has given you to uplift and serve others. We will not always be able to serve others in a way we would if circumstances were perfect. But we can always extend love through kindness or simple acts, small or large. Wherever you are, lift others up. Use your joy to bless others. And know that we don’t have to wait to be happy. Joy and gratitude can and should come even as we face down difficult circumstances. After all, God created us to have joy. (2 Nephi 2:25)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I love you, Gwendolyn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Mama</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-83240547093422477102019-03-02T00:19:00.000-06:002019-10-28T00:32:35.453-05:00Dichotomy (Five Months)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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3/2/19<o:p></o:p></div>
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Gwen,<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sometimes I think the hardest part about having a new baby is wrestling with the constant emotional dichotomy. It’s painful trying to survive while also slowing down enough to enjoy each moment. Sometimes I am gritting my teeth in exhaustion, physical fatigue and emotional burnout, and just trying to get through the moment until I can practice even the most basic self-care. And then the next moment, I’m lying next to my sleeping baby in bed, wondering if it would be possible to admire and cherish her enough.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Good and bad, the time is so painfully fleeting. Sometimes it seems for the best. Sometimes it’s for the worst. But I suppose knowing the time is fleeting is exactly what makes feelings of tenderness, patience, gratitude, and peace bloom so freely in the heartbreakingly beautiful, soul-stretching experience that is nurturing a new life. You are a cherubic baby and I love you so dearly. You are sunshine personified. But, oh, am I bone tired and weary. <o:p></o:p></div>
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One particular day this last month I set the bar low and still didn’t meet it. I cried for absolutely no reason, and I loved until it hurt.<o:p></o:p></div>
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You woke up this particular morning with a big, gummy grin and it melted my heart. Mercedes, 4, and I made up a new game where we both take turns making up short stories to tell each other. Mercy made her own lunch, because she wanted to, but I was relieved I didn’t have to do it. I tried to exercise for a planned total of 18 minutes but was interrupted by you at least four times. I zoned out while I ironed some clothes. I washed my hair. I felt bad about my body. And then after marathon nursing, I felt proud of my body. I kept us alive and relatively happy. But the apartment still looked like a bomb went off.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That day was nothing and everything. It was good and it was bad. It was mundane and boring, and yet so taxing I wanted to crawl back under the covers and maybe never come back out. That day, motherhood was as good as it was bad. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But, in reality, I suppose motherhood just mirrors life: Life is often both good and bad, sometimes at the exact same moment. And that’s okay. I think the trick to deal with it is gratitude. Neither of our lives will rarely look perfect, but if we look towards Heavenly Father with patience, faith, and gratitude in our circumstances — not for them — we will find joy that sustains us. The type of eternal sunshine that you came to earth with weaved in to the very fabric of your soul. I hope you never lose it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This last month, we’ve seen you grow more into your own person. You’re reaching for things, laughing, interacting more with your sister, investigating, and rolling. You laugh the most for Mercedes, but you’re happiest with me. And, you little booger, you make sleep — even naps — so difficult. You constantly want to sleep on or with me, and I am struggling trying to find balance between helping you sleep and well — just about anything else!<o:p></o:p></div>
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I love you, Gwendolyn!<br />
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Mama<o:p></o:p></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-46340058392385666372019-02-02T15:17:00.000-06:002019-07-21T15:18:21.036-05:00Babies and Fairies (Four Months)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">2/2/19</span><br />
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Gwendolyn,<o:p></o:p></div>
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You giggled for the first time this last month. We know the date, in fact: January 6, 2019, will forever be the day you learned to laugh. Your dad was the one lucky enough to elicit it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I realize my Peter Pan obsession is still alive and well because I couldn’t help but think a fairy was born on that day of your first laugh. As the book says:<o:p></o:p></div>
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“When a new baby laughs for the first time a new fairy is born, and as there are always new babies there are always new fairies.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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You are still new to this world, and will be for quite some time. Each new experience and emotion in life can feel consuming and defining, much like J.M. Barrie describes fairies in his fantastical tale. <span style="color: #181818;">“Fairies have to be one thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time.”</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Undoubtedly, happiness comes easily to you. And, with time, hopefully laughter will always come without effort. I hope if you only have room for one choice feeling, I hope you always choose joy. I hope you always let joy — and the finding and keeping of it — be what defines your being. Let it fill you and motivate you towards good. <o:p></o:p></div>
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There is something about new life — about childhood — that is as wonderful, awe-inducing and fantastic as the thought of fairies. For many, the innocence and wonder of childhood shields them from the harsh realities of the world at large. But without question, if you live long enough you will inevitably be tempted by cynicism after enduring trials. Do not let it swallow you up. Have faith in a loving Heavenly Father that your experiences are for your good, and that he wants you to feel and find true, eternal joy. Take heart in knowing innocent new life — and thus, magic and fairies and joy — is always being born. There is always cause for optimism and joy. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I love you.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Always,<br />
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MamaHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-62869886231688083782019-01-02T13:29:00.000-06:002019-06-05T13:30:59.154-05:00Always (Three Months)<br />
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<o:p>1/2/19</o:p></div>
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Gwendolyn,<o:p></o:p></div>
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You still feel like a dream. Like the sweetest imagining I’ve ever had. Too sweet and too good to even fathom being reality. But here you are. And your smiles melt me, and your tears break me. At this point in your little life, I can hardly identify when our two identities start and stop. We merge in to each other. A fluid round of touch and nursing. And I freely admit you give me as much comfort as I give you. I am grateful for the reprieve of cuddling, of nursing, of talking, of smiling...it keeps my heart calm.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In the fog of postpartum recovery, coping with the tragedy that was the Camp Fire and holiday hustle, I find my emotions to be a mix of one extreme to the other. I am humbled, grateful, exhausted, heartbroken, weary, and joyful. But you are undeniably the sunshine in my life.</div>
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Your dad gave you your baby blessing in my parent’s home on Christmas Eve. You were blessed in the same gown that your grandmother, myself, and Mercedes were all blessed in. In your blessing, you were blessed to be healthy, that you might grow to learn of and love our Savior Jesus Christ, and that you would become a servant to others, blessing them with kindness and joy. You were blessed that “you will be a light and a guide to this family.” And you undoubtedly already are.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My beautiful sunshine baby, you have always been. Your spirit existed before mortality. And you will continue on after this life. Heavenly Father knows you and loves you and is intimately aware of your strengths, weaknesses and talents. God loves you and wants you to continue to feel joy the rest of your life. You are, that you might have joy, just like in 2 Nephi 2:25. We wanted you here with us earth side, and we are so grateful to get to experience this life with you, hand-in-hand. You belong to us, and we belong to you, and so it will be for eternity. We are eternally bound, you and I, and we are eternally linked to our ancestors before us and our posterity yet to come. I loved you before I even knew you, before our first embrace, and I will undoubtedly love you through eternity. No conditions. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I love you.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Always,<o:p></o:p></div>
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Mama</div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-47692593146784138352018-12-02T18:20:00.000-06:002019-03-11T18:22:12.001-05:00Sunshine (Two Months)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">12/2/18<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Gwendolyn,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The second month of your life has been filled with sorrow. On November 8, the unprecedented happened. A fire blazed through the nearby city of Paradise, Calif., and destroyed near everything in its path, including the homes of my grandparents, Howard and Corine, and my uncle, Nate. As of now, the Camp Fire is the deadliest and most destructive wildlife in California history. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The weeks after the fire were an emotional roller coaster of processing for our entire family — gratitude for safety, heartbreak for so much loss, confusion on what to do next, worry about the health of the environment and survivors, concern on how this would affect our entire community, curiosity about the short and long-term economic impact, and on and on and on. The community, as a whole, was in a lurch trying to survive. Thousands were now homeless. The air was toxic to breathe. The fire was not contained for I don’t even remember how long. Each night, the sheriff would announce the ever-rising death toll during a nightly news conference. New areas were being asked to evacuate as the fire threatened new areas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The first day, the fire got too close for comfort, and we voluntarily left to my parents’ home in Rocklin. We stayed for a few weeks because the air quality was so toxic in Chico. It was bad enough in Rocklin. And with you being so tiny, we wanted to keep you as far away as possible. It was painful to be away, as your father and I both wanted so badly to be able to help somehow. But we also recognized our personal limitations and at this point, we’d be better off not using precious, limited resources in town, if we could help it. One night in Rocklin, Mercedes started crying because she just wanted to be home. It broke my heart for her. And it broke my heart realizing how many in our community no longer had the option of going home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Around Thanksgiving, news reports came out that norovirus had broken out in the fire refugee camps around town. Your dad, in his work as a social worker, somehow came in contact with norovirus. Regrettably, he wasn’t able to join us for Thanksgiving because we didn’t want to risk him getting you or my grandparents ill. I worried about your dad’s welfare by himself, and it felt strange to be away from him for a holiday. I had told myself being all together for Thanksgiving would help us feel some sense of normalcy. Having that taken away was heartbreaking. It was a painful reminder on how tragic this event had been for our entire community. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A lot of our family and friends checked on us, and wanted to know how we were doing — especially considering we were dealing with the stress of a newborn on top of everything else. But, amazingly, you were nowhere near a source of stress in our lives. In fact, it was quite the opposite. You were our joy. Our bright point. Our reminder that all is well in the world, and that we have reason to have hope in the future as we move forward with faith.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">One late night just before Thanksgiving, while we were taking a break from nursing, I had you laying in my lap. I sang “You Are My Sunshine” to you. As I sang the first time around, the moment I said sunshine your face lit into a full, beautiful smile. I sang the song a few more times to you. And you beamed at me the entire time. I am not ashamed to admit it made me cry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Since you were born, our family has dealt with several illnesses, a car wreck, this fire, and one of our cars breaking down. It’s been long and exhausting and emotional. Despite it all, you have been an absolute delight. A ray of sunshine when our skies were literally gray with ash and storm clouds. We are grateful for the much-needed perspective you’ve given us. You’ve anchored us with gratitude, joy and perspective in the many storms of our lives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Inevitably, someday the storm clouds will roll in to your life. I hope and pray that you always seek joy in your journey. I hope your faith in Jesus Christ lends you much-needed perspective on what matters most. I hope you cling to gratitude and joy and always find cause for happiness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I love you, sunshine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Always,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-73466142836119363772018-11-02T16:37:00.000-05:002019-03-11T18:21:51.638-05:00Me Without You (One Month)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">11/2/18<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Gwendolyn,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s been a month with you now. And somehow, I can’t remember me existing without you. It feels as if my identity has shifted to define itself in a way that includes you so completely that the idea of you not being a part of me before now seems foreign. I think of birthing you and it somehow feels like an old memory...like an experience that has long defined me despite only being a month ago. I think of mothering you and I have that same feeling: Loving you has somehow always defined me. You fit into my identity. You fit into my forever. You fit into my eternities — a part of my yesterday and tomorrow, and inseparable from my own perception and definition of joy. You’re a part of my forever and make our family feel whole. It feels as if you’ve always been a part of the plan and I thank God that He has included you in my story. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You’ve been a mild-mannered baby and we joke you’re more Moore than Cruz — you have more chill than fire, at this point. It took a month for you to have a truly fussy few hours. Otherwise, so long as your fed and cuddled you are happy. Some things I never want to forget about you during this stage: Your long fingers you like to have by your face; that you try to suck on your fingers at the same time as nurse; your head full of soft, curly hair; that when you’re crying a good head rub can calm you down; that you don’t seem to mind who is holding you, so long as they have a heartbeat; how you look just like a doll — so teeny and always curled up; the sound of your newborn cry sounded like you were screaming “huh-la” over and over; how as happy as you are to be held by anyone, when you start crying to be fed you calm down once you can see or smell me or when I pick you up; how relaxed and peaceful you were when we gave you a warm bath; how your sister adores you and you don’t mind her suffocating affection; how content you always were in the sling; how you arch your back and your little booty sticks out when you stretch; and how you pop your arms straight up after I take you out of a swaddle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This last month has flown by in a blur of cuddles and breastfeeding. I am enjoying living in the moment, trying my best to cherish my time with you because despite my fatigue and sore body, I am all too aware how fleeting time is and how quickly you soon won’t be my baby. I thank God that though this time is fleeting, we have an eternity of time to fill with new moments. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I love you, beautiful Gwendolyn. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Always, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Mama </span></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-47562485566034786732018-11-01T18:51:00.000-05:002019-02-10T16:45:31.915-06:00Gwendolyn's Birth Story<div style="font-size: 12px;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I never thought of my first baby’s birth as being traumatic until I realized how badly I didn’t want to relive it. I hoped and prayed my second birth would be a healing, validating experience, and to say I was not disappointed may be the greatest understatement of my life.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">During my pregnancy with my second baby, I took steps to improve my chances of a better birth experience. Instead of going with an OBGYN, I went with a midwife. I focused on exercising my entire pregnancy. I read a lot of books on coping techniques. I researched, I prayed, I meditated, I asked my husband and loved ones to support me. But despite it all, I had this overwhelming anxiety that bubbled up and out in the last trimester. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I told myself I wasn’t scared of childbirth because I wasn’t scared of pain, and that is so often the topic women bring up when they say they’re scared of giving birth. I’d received an epidural my first pregnancy but not to manage the pain. It was so I could sleep after a long, hard unproductive early labor. But living with endometriosis pain since I was 14, I have a decent pain threshold. I knew I could deal with it. It was everything else I feared.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Leading up to my second birth, I felt anxious over all the unknowns of birth — all the health-related things I could not control. I kept wondering, “what if...” What if it’s another long, exhausting labor? What if my body can’t do it without intervention? What if recovery is terrible again? What if I need a C-section? What if I get preeclampsia? What if my medical team ignores my medical complaints and it’s something serious? What if my birth preferences aren’t considered like my first birth? What if I die? Vocalizing my fears sometimes seemed so silly, but there they were — and I was terrified.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">All that tension and anxiety did my blood pressure little good, and the last few weeks of pregnancy I was diagnosed with gestational hypertension. I did my best to mentally and physically relax, but to no avail. I cried a lot. Including to my wonderful midwifes who let my prenatal appointments turn into therapy sessions. I told my main midwife I wanted as little intervention as possible, unless it was medically indicated. And, unfortunately, because the hypertension continued long enough, my midwife decided an inducement was necessary to avoid me developing preeclampsia — a potentially life-threatening condition for both mom and baby. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">To my surprise, I was actually relieved to be getting induced. I was still nervous over all the factors I couldn’t control, but I was excited there was an end to my pregnancy in sight and soon I could focus on loving on my baby.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We scheduled my induction, and a few days before I was to be induced, I asked my husband, Nathaniel, and my grandfather to give me a priesthood blessing. In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, a priesthood blessing is a special prayer given over someone when they’re in need of healing or comfort. We believe that God inspires the prayer-giver on what to say. My grandfather prayed over me, and promised me that I’d feel peace during the labor and that everything would go smoothly. I was so grateful for the reassurance and it buoyed my faith and courage as labor approached.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiivDbweVZ-ca2xGRDRFnPvtPU0rD0B0i8Yg51RVRqg2qsHsqAjVjvwwJFV2ZnC5jBTeq76xowPKRGDoXlGi9TQ1W9oKtkBcP7AuWCixaLJIfgpVoTljdZQGmBgL-NHL_mzNUJgK4Rj-jEU/s1600/IMG_7246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiivDbweVZ-ca2xGRDRFnPvtPU0rD0B0i8Yg51RVRqg2qsHsqAjVjvwwJFV2ZnC5jBTeq76xowPKRGDoXlGi9TQ1W9oKtkBcP7AuWCixaLJIfgpVoTljdZQGmBgL-NHL_mzNUJgK4Rj-jEU/s320/IMG_7246.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just outside the hospital the morning I was induced.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We went in to the hospital to be induced the morning of Oct. 2. My midwife and I had a plan to try low-intervention measures first before trying more invasive measures. Around 10 a.m. my midwife inserted cervidil, a medication to soften the cervix, in to my cervix. I was already dilated to two centimeters and the midwife told me the medication takes up to 12 hours to work, and we would try up to two doses before starting pitocin. She told me sometimes the cervidil kick starts labor and no other interventions are necessary. Other times it’s simply a precursor to needing pitocin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I hoped things would start moving along nicely on their own, but I was settling in for the long haul and had already accepted I likely wouldn’t be having a baby until the next day. The good news is I was feeling decently well-rested, confident and peaceful. And even though that morning in the hospital they had found protein in my urine — a sign of preeclampsia — all of my blood pressure readings were looking decent. I was feeling grateful to be getting the show on the road, no matter how long labor would last.</span><br />
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The boredom of early labor.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">It wasn’t long after receiving the medication that I started feeling mild contractions. The next few hours I alternated between bouncing on the birth ball, walking around outside on the hospital campus, and being monitored in bed. Before my first walk I was given an IV line in my arm, just in case I needed it later. When the nurse administered it, I felt dizzy and </span></span><span style="font-size: 12px;">nauseated</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">. My nurse even said I got very pale. The IV was very uncomfortable, but they told me it would get better. We went on one walk around the hospital campus and when we came back, my hand below the IV was swollen and </span></span><span style="font-size: 12px;">uncomfortable</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"> — my fingers looked like sausages! But only on my left hand. They removed the IV and it was clear I had already bruised. But the swelling in my hand disappeared quickly. We decided we'd wait to try for another line later, since the first time I hadn't responded so well to it. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUId46Z9vadcrE2eQLhZM6Ti18cpNtD_-ac7JqOWKPHTuSQlVW67lPsxGgrXyNQyts0rXDnLEVIINo3gGS_1XCdxbWJJioBEtCjtrlJiqmGYe1Bf-jm9_-ME3g-5gtRH-nPidhSTeSg9xP/s1600/IMG_7248.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUId46Z9vadcrE2eQLhZM6Ti18cpNtD_-ac7JqOWKPHTuSQlVW67lPsxGgrXyNQyts0rXDnLEVIINo3gGS_1XCdxbWJJioBEtCjtrlJiqmGYe1Bf-jm9_-ME3g-5gtRH-nPidhSTeSg9xP/s200/IMG_7248.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCNluQzeTUUH8cU6LNzqSDGN9y19JxSgvzZdqGDdTEAz5mD2c7yhcHdASQHDexciHWBdUuiVI6cpyWlR_aNGFFOrP3qPrhdiJsopGy3Dgg7AlDb45ewpJDQ05j40mbU6b__ZfGT29L8Mzp/s1600/IMG_7257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCNluQzeTUUH8cU6LNzqSDGN9y19JxSgvzZdqGDdTEAz5mD2c7yhcHdASQHDexciHWBdUuiVI6cpyWlR_aNGFFOrP3qPrhdiJsopGy3Dgg7AlDb45ewpJDQ05j40mbU6b__ZfGT29L8Mzp/s200/IMG_7257.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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My IV. You can still see the swelling after they took it out. </div>
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The view on our walk.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We want on a second walk in the evening and it was incredibly uncomfortable. I wasn’t having contractions, but I felt dull, constant cramping the entire time and kind of just felt like I had to pee the entire time. When we got back, I explained to the nurses how I was feeling and they said it was likely the cervidil irritating and inflaming everything. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Fortunately, when I laid down, the discomfort went away. Around 7 p.m. I laid down and decided I’d try to get a nap in since not much was really happening in way of labor. Nathaniel left to find himself dinner. While he was gone I started having contractions again, and noticed they were getting closer and strong enough that I started timing them. Pretty quickly they were getting more intense, longer and closer together — about 50 seconds to a minute long and coming every two minutes. I texted Nathaniel to let him know that by the time he got back I thought I’d need help getting through contractions. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Around 8 p.m. my nurse came in to monitor the baby. Laying down through the contractions was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and I kept asking if I could sit up. The nurse told me the baby was having decelerations in her heart rate and she couldn’t get a good read on if she was stable or not, so she really needed me to sit as still as possible. I asked if we could at least try monitoring while I sat up on the birth ball. I promised I would sit as still as possible.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">While on the birth ball I was listening to music. A cover of Coldplay’s “Yellow” came on, by Kina Grannis, and I started crying. That song has always meant so much to me and it made me think of my Grandma Moore and all the women who have come before me. My own mother and grandmothers — women who have shown me so perfectly what it means to love, to mother, to sacrifice. It’s impossible to fully express how I felt in the moment — overcome by the intensity of the physical experience of labor, overwhelmed by love and the sweet reality of the links that bond us through generations.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We tried sitting on the birth ball but still couldn’t get a good reading so I had to lay down again. After I laid down, I kept begging to be done and asking how much I had left before I could get up again. Nathaniel said the nurse kept lying to me — she told me it’d be 10 or 15 more minutes, but I ended up laying there for what must have been about an hour. I was so in the moment, just trying to breathe through each moment, that I didn’t notice exactly how much time had passed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Around this time, my parents and my 4-year-old daughter, came to check on me. They chatted with me between contractions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Eventually, my nurse let me get up out of bed and get back on the birth ball, I was doing my best to relax my body, relaxing my jaw and breathing through the contractions — blowing out from my mouth and doing “horse lips” — as much as I could. Nathaniel would also dig his fists into my lower back at the height of each contraction. He later told me he was scared of how hard he was pushing because he felt like he might bruise me. He also said it was amazing to push that hard on my back because he could feel my back muscles moving and contracting. I was so grateful for his help, it felt wonderful to have him work in to my back. He often pushed so hard that he was almost pushing me off of the birth ball.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">During this time, I also was holding on to a rock I gathered while at the beach with my mom, aunt and cousins. While I was on the beach, I had picked up that rock, held it, prayed and meditated as I watched and listened to the waves hit the shore. It was my anchor and a reminder that God not only created the heavens and the earth, but he made me. And he made me to not only be perfectly physically engineered to birth, but he created me to mother and to love beyond what sometimes seems like I am able. I tried visualizing my contractions like the very waves I’d seen — powerful but peaceful, and building in intensity before dissipating. It was so helpful to hold that imagery in my mind during contractions!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Around 9 p.m. my midwife arrived to check on me. I asked if I could move to the labor tub and she told me they didn’t want me in the tub until I was progressed to five or six centimeters dilated. She said the tub sometimes stalls labor, but we could try getting in to the shower. At 9:07 p.m. she checked my cervix and I was at three centimeters. Because labor was moving along now, she removed the cervidil at that time. I stayed on the birth ball another few minutes so the nurse could get an IV PICC line in my hand, just in case we needed it later and needed quick access. My parents and daughter left to get some rest since it seemed birth was still a long ways off. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We moved the birth ball in to the shower and labor quickly intensified. At this point, my contractions were probably a minute and a half long and I was only getting a 30-second break between each one. At this point, I was sweating profusely, nauseous and seeing stars. I was facing Nathaniel, with my back to the wall, and he was reaching around me trying to massage my back with the shower head. I kept telling him I couldn’t do it, and I needed an epidural. I kept thinking, “It’s going to get worse,” trying to reserve the mental and physical energy for the duration and intensity of labor to come. He remained steady, level-headed and reassured me over and over that I could do it because I was, in fact, actively doing it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Nathaniel encouraged me to stand up and turn around on the ball so he could help massage my back better. He also tried to encourage me to move my hips on the ball through the contractions, like I had been previously doing. I kept telling him that I couldn’t. At one point, I felt like if I could just pee I would feel so much better. Since I was in the shower, I tried to pee but couldn’t. In hindsight, I recognize this was an urge to push.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Each contraction seemed to get heavier and heavier, and at a certain point I earnestly wondered if I’d just black out from the intensity. I didn’t know if I could survive how intense this experience was. I kept holding my breath and Nathaniel would have to remind me to breath — doing horse lips — to get through. At certain points, I would grip him tightly, pushing all my energy into him. I screamed at the top of my lungs a few times. And I had the overwhelming urge to bite into Nathaniel. Lucky for him, I never went through with it, but he told me later he could tell that’s what I wanted to do!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My midwife came a few minutes later and told me the tub was ready for me and we could start moving that way. I instantly wondered how I could possibly manage to get to the tub when I felt like I could hardly move while I was sitting. The tub was all the way down the hallway! I finished working through one contraction and then I stood to move down the hallway.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I took two steps when I felt another contraction coming on. I told my midwife I needed to work through it. I leaned over, gripping on to the shower stool, and was doing my best to breathe through the contraction. Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming urge to push — or rather, I felt my body pushing. I announced to my midwife I was pushing, and she encouraged me to wait and then asked if I could make it to the bed. I told her I couldn’t, and started pushing with the contraction, hoping with everything inside of me that I wasn’t going to hurt myself or the baby in the process — I was just measured at a three, after all! How and why was I already pushing?!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I scarcely understood what was happening. All I knew was it felt so good to push. As I pushed, I immediately felt relief and noticed I pooped. For a split second I thought that would be the end of it and I’d continue laboring. I saw my midwife scoop up the poop and move it out of the way, and before I knew it there was a small gush of water, followed by another large gush. I felt the baby crowning, which felt like a lot of intense pressure and slight burning — like a cork waiting to pop — and then heard my midwife announce, “There’s the head.” I gave another push, and saw my baby beneath me, between my legs, in my midwife’s hands. My midwife said, “Grab your baby, Hannah!” I grabbed her, the midwife unwrapped the cord from around the baby’s shoulders and behind her neck, and then I held her to my chest. I looked up and a nurse to my right — whom I had never met before and was not previously in the bathroom — announced the baby’s birth as 9:39 p.m. And just like someone flipped a switch, I suddenly felt absolute bliss. Never mind I felt absolutely stunned, too. I could scarcely wrap my mind around what had just happened!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Where it all went down!</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Nathaniel later told me that the midwife had motioned to him to hand her towels. He also said she quietly motioned to a nearby nurse to get the medical team in the room. She didn’t have a chance to even put gloves on before catching the baby! Nathaniel said my face upon holding our baby was like a deer in headlights. He and the midwife kept repeating to me, “You did it, Hannah!” And even as I stood there — hearing them, holding my baby — I could hardly wrap my mind around what had just happened. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I hobbled to the hospital bed with our new, tiny, sweet, crying baby clutched to my chest, her umbilical cord dangling between my legs. I was laughing and kept commenting to all the staff around me things like, “Did that just happen?! Wow! I did that! That was amazing!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I laid down and delivered the placenta after feeling an urge to push. My midwife commented I had a particularly small placenta. I tore quite a bit in two spots during delivery, so the midwife gave me stitches. I did all of this while holding our new baby, Gwendolyn. We did skin-to-skin, including nursing several times, for a solid two hours before the nurses took her to clean and measure her. Nathaniel cut Gwen’s cord after it had stopped pulsing. </span><br />
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Meeting our girl for the first time.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Nathaniel FaceTimed my parents as I lay in bed — maybe 10 minutes after giving birth — to share with them the news. They were in shock, too! My mom was bummed she’d missed all the action. She also thought I wouldn’t be delivering until the morning. We all laughed over the phone, and they hurried over (without our daughter who was already asleep at my grandparents’ house) to meet the new baby. </span><br />
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My dad, husband and mom meeting Gwendolyn.</div>
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Admiring Gwen</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As we laid admiring the baby, we noticed that below her lower lip and both earlobes were bruised from her speedy delivery in to the world. She had very little swelling, a lot of hair, looked almost exactly like her big sister and was a tiny, sweet and perfect 6 pounds, 10 ounces, and 20.25 inches. We were absolutely smitten. </span></div>
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Measuring Gwendolyn. You can see her bruised ears here!</div>
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Nathaniel getting her diaper on and the nurse making footprints. </div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">For the next 30 hours, I barely slept a wink. I felt amazing! The adrenaline rush after birth was absolutely incredible! I felt physically good and mentally blissful. I was up and out of bed as soon as I wanted to be, and had no problems getting around. I tended to the baby whenever I needed or wanted. I didn’t feel nearly as swollen or in as much pain as I thought I’d be, and I only took occasional ibuprofen to help manage the pain — the worst being cramping whenever I nursed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was a complete contrast to my first birth — 30 hours of labor, an epidural, nearly blacking out several times after birth, taking narcotics for pain management, not being able to get out of bed on my own, not being able to help with baby. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Since then, I can still scarcely believe how beautifully the entire labor went! And my recovery has gone so, so smoothly. My labor was intense, humbling, spiritual, emotional, joyful and empowering. It was a beautiful lesson to me to trust my body, and live in the moment. I am so happy to learn —as the famous midwife Ina May Gaskin says — that my "body is not a lemon." God truly has designed me perfectly. I am physically capable. I am emotionally capable. And what a beautiful precursor and reminder as I head into the physically and mentally rigorous reality that is motherhood. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm six weeks out from giving birth and I am feeling great! </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Gwendolyn is an easy-going, happy baby. She's a marvelous nurser, a decent sleeper, and happiest if she's in someone — anybody's — arms. We absolutely adore her and are so glad she's a part of our family.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Always,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-50218191567714593772018-08-13T19:12:00.000-05:002019-03-11T19:13:10.752-05:00Fat Soul (4 years)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">8/13/2018<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Mercedes, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The way you found out I was pregnant with your little sister is because you had pieced it together and asked me point blank if I had a baby inside me. I was going to hold off telling you. But, conveniently, you asked me the morning we were going to my first real midwife appointment. How could I lie to you? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Over the coming months, you became more and more excited for your baby sibling to get here. You insisted it was a girl. And Dad and I gently tried to teach you that we don’t have control if baby is a boy or a girl. But you insisted. And, as fate would have it, you were right. You came with us to the 20-week ultrasound. When the ultrasound technician confirmed we were, in fact, going to be getting a baby sister you hardly acted surprised. You “knew” after all. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now, with the final stretch ahead of us before you’re officially a big sister, everyone keeps telling me trouble is coming: Older siblings often struggle stepping in to the role. But, if I’m honest, I sense the only problem we’re going to have is you being overly affectionate. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This pregnancy has been hard. And I’ve been exhausted and at times sick. You’ve been with me every step of the way. And while, on occasion, you are not very patient with me — you just barely turned 4, after all — overall, you’ve been the one taking care of me. On more than one occasion, when I fell asleep on you mid-play, I’d wake to you draping me with a blanket or telling me, “It’s okay, Mom.” A specific time I was crying from exhaustion and feeling overwhelmed. You asked me what’s wrong and suggested maybe I needed to be cheered up. You suggested a game would cheer me up and ran to grab a board game. I reluctantly played. But by the end I was laughing and feeling light-hearted and grateful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When I had to do the gestational diabetes screening, I started feeling very ill. I felt as if I might pass out and started crying. The phlebotomist laid back my chair and gave me ice chips and a cold washcloth for my face. Previously, you’d been happily playing. But the moment you noticed my tears, you came and hugged my legs, crawled in to my lap and were leery of any new person who came to talk to me. You were trying to comfort and protect me. I love you for that. You are empathetic, selfless and thoughtful. And I have no doubt you will be a naturally protective, nurturing big sister.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes I forget you are only 4 years old. You seem like you have so much personality and soul for such a tiny body. You are smart and observant. You love to help others. You love Jesus. You are creative and mischievous. But you’re also anxious and prone to tears. And your fears seem to encompass your entire being in much the same way your joy does. You feel deeply and intensely, for better or worse. I sense it will be both a blessing and a curse for you, the older you get. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You are not merely a 4-year-old, but you are a beautiful child of God. You were before this mortal journey and you will continue after its end. You have depth and substance and inherit value that extends beyond your physical state, whether now or later. You are so much more than the sum of your parts. I hope, as time moves forward, you will continue to value and seek after those things that enrich and edify your soul. In the Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi 9:51, it says, “Come unto the Holy One of Israel, and feast upon that which perisheth not, neither can be corrupted, and let your soul delight in fatness.” My beautiful girl, I hope your soul just gets fatter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I love you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Always,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Mama</span><span style="font-family: Cambria Math; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-41603538759394302622017-08-13T16:47:00.000-05:002018-11-14T17:07:07.261-06:00Sweet but Tenacious (3 years)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Oh, my love. Three years have come and gone. You make every passing day magical. You have a mischievous sparkle in your eye and a zest for life. You are curious, witty, creative, tenacious, thoughtful and attentive. I am constantly in awe or laughing over something you have done, said or discovered. I could fill up an entire book of funny and cute stories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">At 3 years old, you are as much girly as you are rough and tumble. Your favorite color is pink, you love to play “Elsa and Anna,” and you love nothing more than tutus, having your hair done, and getting your nails painted. You also find farts and pool absolutely hilarious. You love to wrestle with Dad. And your most recent obsession is learning about reptiles, sharks and spiders via YouTube videos.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">You inspire me to greater heights. You've taught me how to love more deeply, and how to treasure more deeply each day of life. The beautiful part of being a mother is a second chance to experience childhood. Watching you experience the world with wonder, curiosity and joy is a refreshing reminder to me to cherish life! And I love you for that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">As much as this is all true, life with 3-year-old you has also been painfully difficult and pushed me to the edge more times than I’d like to acknowledge. Every day is a power struggle as you test your boundaries and find yourself. It is exhausting and exasperating. And, ironically, also makes me so damn proud. You are one tough cookie! You are self-assured, willful and immovable. I am proud to be raising a daughter who knows herself and isn’t scared to be herself! I know it will serve you will in your life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">I love you, beautiful girl, and I can’t wait to experience life unfold with you in the coming years!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Mama</span></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-72165398439269543832016-08-13T17:08:00.000-05:002016-09-09T17:19:55.968-05:00The beginning of the end (2 years)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My sweet girl on her 2nd birthday</div>
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Mercy,<br />
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You are two now. And as stated so concisely in "Peter Pan":<br />
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"Two is the beginning of the end."<br />
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The narrator, of course, was referring to the beginning of the end of the fleeting magic of childhood. Your beginning has already been filled with adventure. Filled with giggles and joy. A blur of road trips, boo-boos, kisses, bubbles, books, building, dancing and drawing. A blur of simple pleasures and gleeful discovery.<br />
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In recent months I have thrilled over your budding independence, confidence and creativity. You are growing steadily more assertive and decisive, and you are a constant surprise and delight to us! I am consistently taken aback by your observations: You have mastered imitation to a fine art, including repeating words or picking at your imaginary pimples in the mirror! Yikes! You also, gratefully, have absorbed more becoming attributes like how to care for your babies (cleaning — or "keen" as you'd say — your dolls, diapering them, putting them to bed, etc. ) or how to kiss Mom and Dad's "owies" (also a well-loved word of yours and one you use to garner affection even when no boo-boos are in sight.)<br />
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You have started to label the world around you, attempting to properly identify colors, letters and numbers. For a while everything was "blue" or "two," but you'd sometimes shock us by properly labeling the color pink. You pick out symbols when I wouldn't expect you'd recognize them — like a figurative representation of a cat — and you can pick out individual letters like "T" or "O." You love to declare over and over again, that I am "mommy" and Dad is "daddy." Of course, then you turn your finger to yourself and proudly proclaim "me" or sometimes "baby." When I confirm you are indeed, Mommy's baby you grin and hug me. Now when we are reading story books or are out in the real world, you like to point to objects or people and label them as mommies, daddies or babies. It's amazing to watch you learn a concept and over-generalize it in an attempt to understand how the world works. I am truly astonished by how much you are learning by simple observations and experience.<br />
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Some things I never want to forget about you at this stage: That your favorite foods include calamari and Hot Tamales, but you love to eat whatever I am eating — even foods like veggies or oatmeal. That you can remember sign language I taught you months ago and had nearly forgotten myself. That you are growing more confident in your verbal language skills, and now get excited to try out new words or even string words together. That you absolutely cannot go to sleep without a huge stack of books in your crib. When you cock your head and look at me through your eyelashes, as if to say, "Are you kidding me, Mom?" That you love to smear lipstick or chap stick all over your chin, and the face you make afterwards like you just know you're the prettiest thing in the whole world. That you love bows and tutus. That you ask about "Da-dee" all day long and run and hug him as soon as he comes home. That you love to "help" me cook and insist on pulling a chair up to the counter for you to stand on while you help. That you've started to sing songs. That you love to "pyay" (play), and when we Facetime "Nanny" you run to your room and set the phone down next to you so Nanny can play with you. That when you're being naughty, if I count to three your biggest fear is that I will actually have to help you do something — no more independence! That when we play music at home, you always ask me to hold you while I dance around the living room. And that while I'm dancing, you nestle your head into the crook of my neck, wrap your arms around my neck, and I can hear you giggling as I bob and twirl.<br />
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I have enjoyed every moment of this beginning's end. You have brought wonder and magic in to our world. As a 2-year-old you are absorbed in the joys of life's simplicities and I hope you never lose that wonderment and thirst for life. I hope you always have a grateful heart, a desire to love those around you, and you always look towards Jesus Christ as your ultimate example (because sometimes observing me is not the greatest idea!) I hope you always know how much your dad and I cherish you and cherish our role as your parents. I hope you're always young at heart, and — more wisdom from "Peter Pan" — I hope living is always an "awfully big adventure."<br />
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I love you. </div>
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Always,<br />
MamaHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-32832477475336057902016-02-13T21:31:00.000-06:002016-02-21T21:32:58.011-06:00On identity and relationships (18 months)<div style="text-align: center;">
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My 18-month-old exploring the University of Oklahoma campus.</div>
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Mercy,<br />
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It's difficult for me to summarize my feelings on the last six months. Not because you haven't made marked growth, but because when I think of you, I feel like you and I — as we know us now — has always been. It almost seems implausible to imagine my identity as one that isn't fluid with my small child, ebbing and flowing from one to two as only a mother and infant can. Between pregnancy and breastfeeding for 14 months, I shared my body with you for nearly two years. Though we have always been two separate beings, for much of your life up until this point I have lived and done so much for you — producing food for you, changing you, helping you sleep and regulate your emotions, etc. It's an experience that has humbled me, better taught me the meaning of charity, and given me a small glimpse into how and why the Savior would so willingly sacrifice himself for all of us. Divine love — charitable love, Christ-like love — inspires undeviating selflessness and sacrifice. What a gift, what a joy it has been to feel that love for you.<br />
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As you grow, you are continuing to find yourself. In the last month or so, you have become quite proficient at saying "go" and "no." You have no problem using either. I can tell you are proud to be asserting your independence. Everyone warned me how terrible it would be once you could voice your opinions. But I find it satisfying. I love that you can give me a definitive "no." I prefer it over being yelled at until I can guess your need or frustration. Your personality has continued to flourish in other ways. It's become apparent you're bossy. You often tell other kids how to do things. Or if you don't like how someone — anyone — is interacting with you, you're quick to let them know. I rest assured knowing I will never have to worry about you being a doormat. But Mercy, my sweet girl, learn from your mother's mistakes: you can be both assertive and sensitive to other's feelings. You are undoubtedly tenacious and almost too smart for your own good. It's difficult to trick you. With you, there is no "out of sight, out of mind." But despite an already apparently bold personality, you have become cautious and measured. In new situations, you prefer to sit back and observe before slowly tiptoeing in. Though you smile and giggle through your observations, my guess is you'll never be the gal to recklessly cannonball in to a new experience.<br />
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As you age and grow more and more independent from me, I have no doubt our relationship will continue to change and morph as well. But I can tell you, without any doubt, that I'll always love you. And, very likely, I'll love you more with each passing day. Every time I think of you — of us — the word I keep coming back to is "divine." Not because our relationship is without trial or error, but because you fill every empty space of my soul with a joy I find impossible to describe. Being your mother propels me closer to heaven. Being your mother is truly divine.<br />
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Always,<br />
MamaHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-6954944870533434122015-08-13T15:53:00.000-05:002015-09-15T15:54:49.539-05:00Adventure is Out There (12 months)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My gorgeous 1-year-old.</div>
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Mercy,<br />
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Happy birthday, Mercedes! This year has come and gone in a flash, and it will always stand out in my memory as a defining year in both of our lives. This last year I grew into the role of "mother" and you flourished from a dependent, squishy newborn in to a vivacious, tenacious toddler. Watching your personality emerge has been a joy, and I suspect it will continue to be a treat for years to come.<br />
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Part of me mourns the process of watching you grow more independent. Time seems to slip through my fingers as I attempt to cherish every part of each new stage of your life. But as much as I will fondly reminisce on this first year with you, I am eager to watch and guide you as your life continues to unfold. There are so many wonderful things ahead for you that sometimes I feel silly for not wanting to let go. I constantly find myself thinking "this is my favorite stage," but I'm certain I will likely continue to think that the rest of our living relationship. And, of course, selfishly, part of me is excited for your development because that means I gain a little bit more independence myself. Moms need at least a little freedom, you know?<br />
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My darling girl, there will come a time where each new development in your life seems more thrilling than the last. If you're anything like your mother, you will burn through afternoons daydreaming about tomorrow. Do your best to not squander today in anticipation of tomorrow's adventures. Enjoy the here and now. Find joy in the journey. I promise, you'll never regret it. And, I promise, I'll be right beside you for the whole journey.<br />
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Always,<br />
MamaHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-5233481771925417712015-07-13T17:31:00.000-05:002018-11-14T17:10:13.675-06:00All of You (Month Eleven)<div class="p1">
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<i>We celebrated 11-months on the beach!</i></div>
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Mercy,<br />
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The worst part about your birthday approaching is every day I think I'm doing my best to soak up every precious, simple moment — but when I lay my head to rest at night I still find myself wistfully thinking about the hours with you that just slipped through my fingers. I can't tell you how often I pour my heart out in grateful prayer for you. You are my sunshine. You bring me every joy. I have always wanted to be a mom, but becoming your mom has lived up to every expectation I ever had for motherhood.<br />
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I wish I could bottle up all the tender experiences from this first year and relive them when my heart aches the most to hang on to my precious baby. I want to remember forever your glee upon conquering a new task, when you wrinkle your nose out of protest, how you come looking for me when you can't see me, how you insist on periodic cuddle sessions throughout the day — and sometimes in the middle of the night, how much fun you think your dad is and how I'm chopped liver once he's home.<br />
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I want to always remember you batting at my lips, nearly pushing me off the bed when we sleep next to each other because you're nuzzling in as close as possible, how you dance when you hear music, the quiver of your bottom lip when you're upset, your tenacity when you are frustrated, and the way you holler at someone when you feel like they are intruding on your personal space. I never want to forget you splashing in the tub, heartbreaking tears rolling down your chubby cheeks, your happy chatter in the morning, or all your tiny details — lashes so long they get tangled and bent, those expressive blue eyes even strangers notice, your pouty lips, the dainty neck and those silly, swirling cowlicks.<br />
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All of you. I want to remember every last beautiful and frustrating part of you because all of you is what I love. All of you is what I'll love forever.<br />
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Always,<br />
MamaHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-70688120714452688002015-06-13T14:34:00.000-05:002018-11-14T17:10:03.568-06:00Dada, Papi, Dad (Month Ten)<div class="p1">
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<i>Taking pictures of this little mover sitting still has become nearly impossible. But she's still as cute as ever.</i></div>
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Mercy,<br />
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The first few months of your life you were undoubtedly a mama's girl. I'm still your go-to for comfort, but the last few months you have developed a fun bond with your dad. Every evening when we hear the front door open, your face lights up when you see dad's smiling face pop through. You immediately abandon whatever it is you're doing to chase him down the hallway.<br />
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Once dad is home you are happy as a clam. You "tell" him all about your day, giggle profusely as he chases you around the room or contently sit in his lap and watch TV with him. Your dad used to not-so-jokingly whine about you "not loving him." Now, I know it makes his heart melt every time he comes home to be greeted by your enthusiasm.<br />
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This year marks your dad's first ever Father's Day. I can only speak so much for him, but I know he cherishes his role as your daddy. He doesn't speak often on the complexity of his emotions, but his actions say it all. He is quick to serve you. He is eager to see you smile. He laughs at your silly personality, takes pride when you are tenacious and mourns with you when you're in distress. He thrills at your development and progress. He prays in earnest for you daily.<br />
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Watching you and your dad together is a thrill. I'm grateful you two are my people. Eternity won't be too shabby together, will it?<br />
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Always,<br />
Mama</div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-35265878488482031052015-05-13T16:34:00.000-05:002018-11-14T17:09:52.062-06:00Discipline and Laughter (Month Nine)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>My beautiful 9-month-old</i></div>
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Mercedes,</div>
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Some time in this last month you were being naughty. Nearly impossible to believe, I know. But I made the grouchiest face I could summon and I scolded you. It didn't work very well. Much to my surprise, you laughed at me. And, a few days later, much to your delight, I scolded you again.<br />
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Your squeals of joy at having been rebuked gave me pause for thought: Perhaps more difficult things in life are better approached with an attitude of optimism and joy, rather than one of pessimism and criticism. I made the mental note, right then and there, that in the future I should resort to disciplining with love and patience, rather than anger and frustration. Clearly you find the latter entertaining — and where will that get us?!<br />
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It's no wonder the scriptures are full of this very council. Like D&C 121:41-42 that encourages influencing others is better done by "persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned; By kindness, and pure knowledge, which shall greatly enlarge the soul without hypocrisy, and without guile." And Proverbs 25:15 paints an interesting picture with, "By long forebearing is a prince persuaded, and a soft tongue breaketh the bone."<br />
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You are still just a babe, my beautiful girl. But sometimes caring for you leaves me feeling run down and empty. Sometimes I feel as if I have no more patience, kindness or love to give you. There have been many times I have begged the Lord for the capacity to righteously mother you. And mercifully, just moments later, been filled with peace. I can't help but pour my heart out in prayer in thanksgiving in these moments. It is not lost on me the privilege it is being able to feel love so pure.</div>
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With my first Mother's Day recently passed, I want you to always know how grateful I am to be your mother. Mothering you is divine because it compels me towards divinity. Mothering you has helped me understand my own divine nature more purely. Mothering you has helped me to know the Savior more completely, as I have gained a better understanding of what exactly charity, the pure love of Christ, means. Mothering you has been awe-inspiring, soul-stretching, humility-inducing, heart-bursting and all-encompassing. </div>
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I love you, my joyful Mercy girl.</div>
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Always,<br />
MamaHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-53533089038547304632015-04-15T22:03:00.001-05:002015-05-21T13:43:25.911-05:00Beautiful Baby (Month Eight)<div class="p1">
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My beautiful 8-month-old smiling at Nana</div>
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Mercy,</div>
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You are a beautiful baby. It's a biased opinion that I have no shame admitting. Others often comment on your beautiful eyes. They are large, expressive and a steely shade of blue. Not to mention the long lashes you inherited from your dad. I admit I've taken dozens of photos of your lashes while you sleep. I'm not alone in my opinion. Strangers often gush over you, too. And, the flirt that you are, you smile and promptly — bashfully — burry your face into my shoulder.</div>
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But, as our dear friend Dee Bigfoot said, good looks are "just the bling." It is undoubtedly fun to be physically beautiful, but child, don't you ever let it define who you are on the inside. True beauty is derived from gratitude, faith, integrity, virtue, good works, knowledge, devotion to the gospel and finding true joy in the journey. True beauty is being a "light of the world" and letting "your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." (Matthew 5:14-16)</div>
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Your great-great-grandma Kora Helquist has been recorded reminding her children to "remember who you are." I can still hear my own mother urgently reminding me the same thing. And I have no doubt you will hear that phrase pass from my lips more then once. It is easy to get caught up by defining ourselves by the world's standards — by beauty, by accomplishments, by status, by relationships. Those things can be good, but the best way to define ourselves is by our divine identities as daughters of God. If you remember who you are, you will not stray from the values that make you beautiful from the inside out. </div>
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To me, you are most beautiful because you are joyful, peaceful, tenacious, curious and loving. Always remember who you are, baby girl: You are beautiful because you are divine. I love you.<br />
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Always,<br />
MamaHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-76411123627389206342015-03-13T13:52:00.000-05:002015-03-13T13:52:19.517-05:00Knowledge (Month Seven)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My happy, curious 7-month-old</div>
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Mercedes,</div>
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Forgive the cliche, but this month you've decided the world is your oyster. You started the month trying to master sitting up. Wobbly sitting soon led to rocking on your knees. Next, you unexpectedly started backing up. A few weeks later you started to inch forward in what is the hallmark "crawl." Nana would endearingly say you're a "perfectly normal baby." We love perfectly normal babies around here.</div>
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Now that you're mobile nothing is off limits, and you enjoy passing the time exploring your little corner of the world. But progress doesn't come without hard work and setbacks, as you've discovered this last month. You have summoned me many times during the day — and even the middle of the night — when you've found yourself stuck. You have fallen many times, quite literally backed yourself into the corner and found your limbs stuck in what looks like unbearably uncomfortable positions. And though you get frustrated and cry, the important part is that when you do conquer a previously elusive maneuver your face lights up with wonder. Sometimes the hardest things in our lives yield the greatest rewards. Never be afraid to chase that wonder, even if the task at hand seems nearly impossible.</div>
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This has been my favorite stage of your life. I can't get over the joy of witnessing your mind flourish and unfold right before me. You're much too young to speak, but it is evident in your behavior that every day uncovers new knowledge and experience that enriches your life and molds your being. Each day I fall a little more in love with you, and it's hard for me to imagine how much more my heart will need to expand in the coming years. I have no doubt that each new stage will be my new favorite. But what a rich life? To so love the moment you're in that you can't think of the past or the future. Thank you for that gift.</div>
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I look at you now and think about all the things I want you to know. But the truth is, you'll only be directly under my tutelage for 18 years. With the hustle and bustle of life that will go more quickly than I'd like to admit to right now. You'll spend far more time learning — of both religious and secular topics — on your own then you will under my care. My hope is I can teach you how to learn, not what to learn, and you will use that ability to enrich your life and others'. As in 2 Peter 1:5-8, "And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; And to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; And to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity. For if these things be in you, and abound, they make you that ye shall neither be barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ." My prayer for you is that you use your life's many experiences and gained knowledge to help you become more like the Savior and lift those around you.</div>
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I love you, my sweet girl.</div>
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Always,<br />
MamaHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-29991987685986951672015-02-13T17:05:00.000-06:002015-02-26T17:08:11.739-06:00Worth the Sacrifice (Month Six)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Six-month-old Mercedes</div>
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Mercedes,<br />
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There is a poem I stumbled upon some time in the past, credited to an Anne Campbell, that explains well what it's like to be a mother:<br />
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"You are the trip I did not take, you are the pearls I could not buy,</div>
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you are my blue Italian lake, you are my piece of foreign sky.</div>
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You are my Honolulu moon, you are the book I did not write,</div>
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you are my heart's unuttered tune, you are a candle in my night.</div>
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You are the flower beneath the snow, in my dark sky a bit of blue,</div>
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answering disappointment's blow with 'I am happy! I have you!'"</div>
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I so wish I could say I was the author of these words. They are more true than they are beautiful. There are a million paths I could have taken with my life, and I must admit, a million daydreams I still hold. I have imagined a thrilling career in journalism in a big city, a creative artist's life or even spending my days behind a chair at a salon creating beauty. I've contemplated traveling the world or starting non-profit organizations to serve those in need. Maybe some of these things wait me in the future, but none of it would hold any meaning without you. Being your mother is my greatest and truest joy. There is no sacrifice too great to fill that role.<br />
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Motherhood comes with sacrifice beyond the obvious. For me, it is sometimes fraught with anxiety and depression. Some days are a real battle fighting to maintain inner-peace and perspective. I struggle with wrapping my mind around my new physical identity and the lack of control that comes with motherhood. The lack of routine and sleep takes a real toll on me. I have had to discover creative ways to keep myself sane with you by my side, but we are hitting our stride. Every day provides us a new opportunity to learn and try again.<br />
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Now that we're six months into your life, I'm not the only one with anxiety. You've discovered that Mom still exists even when I'm not in sight: It's separation anxiety at it's finest. Truthfully, it's both cute and exasperating. When I'm feeling most anxious, it helps me to meditate on my identity as a daughter of God. Knowing "whence I came, and whither I go," like in John 8:14, fills me with peace and purpose. God is aware of both me and you. Though you won't always lose your mind when I'm out of sight, you may some day need a reminder to whom you belong to help lead you on your path. Always remember you are loved by both your earthly and heavenly parents.<br />
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My sweet girl, it seems on my darkest days you are there with a shining reminder that you are worth it all. One sleepy morning we both fell asleep while nursing in the bed. I woke up some time later to you batting at my lips with your delicate, tiny hands. When I opened my eyes you were grinning at me. It dissolved every frustration and made my heart soar. I love you, my pearl. "I am happy! I have you!"<br />
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Always,<br />
MamaHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-70186330190026746522015-01-14T14:55:00.000-06:002016-02-21T21:38:54.603-06:00Finding a Will (Month Five)<div class="p1">
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<i>Why must she look so big?!</i></div>
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Mercedes,</div>
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When we met I fell for you instantly. A mother's love is the true definition of love at first sight. And though my heart expanded for you and because of you, that day is the day I loved you least. With each passing day we discover each other. When your tiny hands grasp at my face, tracing my cheeks and pulling at my lips, I know your letting me know you love me too.</div>
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These last few months you have been my constant companion. I can't imagine it another way, but sometimes, just for a moment, I feel suffocated. In fact, I screamed at you for the first time this month, out of frustration. It became apparent immediately you knew something was wrong. You stopped screaming, too, and let me fix your problem. For the record, kid, I don't like having boogers up my nose either.</div>
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When you were newly born I reminded myself constantly that you were a full-grown soul in a tiny body. You're allowed to have your very own unique personality and preferences, even as small as you are. And when I screamed at you, I remembered again: You are your own person. It's become apparent you're discovering that, too, as you express emotions both positive and negative. You've increasingly shown glimmers of your own will this last month as you've shown preferences and become more and more emotive. </div>
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Having your own will and ability to act it out is a gift from God. Because He loves us He allows us to make our own decisions. You've already started to use your will to share joy. Before this month, you saved your smiles for me and Dad. We felt like we were lying to people when we told them you "grinned all day" and you'd just return cold stares to strangers. While we were in California for Christmas things changed. You charmed Nana and Papa and had your three uncles wrapped around your tiny fingers. You were happy to share your happy disposition with others and they could feel your joy and peace in turn. Tio Austin even commented that you were most definitely a Moore: always happy and chill like your great-grandma Joyzella (you're welcome for not naming you that!) I hope through your life you'll continue to choose to use your will to be selfless, kind and loving to those around you.</div>
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The bond I feel for you is one I've never experienced before, the type that penetrates to the very bone and becomes impossible to separate out from any other thought, feeling or action. And the revelation of your will reminds me to whom you really belong, and reminds me that you existed before this world and will exist after. You are forever. And as my bones ache with love for you, I am certain God's do, too.</div>
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Always,<br />
MamaHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-63067773478587095352015-01-04T16:07:00.000-06:002015-03-02T16:29:25.137-06:00California trip, week 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
And...our second week of <a href="http://hmocruz.blogspot.com/2015/01/california-trip-week-1.html">vacation in California for Christmas</a>: </div>
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When we were in California we were lucky enough to go to the baby blessing for one of the four great-grand babies born into the family this year. We got three of the four babies together, too! It was so fun to see the newest generation of the family together in one place. </div>
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Grandma Corine Hurst at the party after the blessing, rocking baby Brody, sitting next to napping Mercedes. I have the most beautiful grandma, do I not?!</div>
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Four generations of Hurst women. This photo makes me so happy!</div>
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Mercy and Grandma sure loved each other!</div>
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Talking to Grandma</div>
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Grandad Howard Hurst with three great-grand babies, Corina Maxwell, Brody Maxwell and Mercedes Cruz.</div>
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These two gals had their first opportunity to hang out! We look forward to them playing together at future family reunions!</div>
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Nathaniel played beauty salon with my Aunt Kaye's granddaughter, Catalina. He is such a good sport!</div>
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Nana helped Mercy with several bath times while we were in California. This was her first-ever in the sink! She loved it.</div>
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I was so happy to get to spend time with my dear friend Taylor! Tay and I go back to high school. It's been fun to be there for each other through major life milestones! Tay and Mercy were totally into each other, obviously!</div>
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With Tia Tay and Uncle Logie!</div>
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I got to catch up with my high school friends, Dana and Kayla. I got to meet Kayla's newest little dude, too. He was SO chubby and cute.</div>
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This chunky just killed me. I couldn't stop loving and squeezing on him. SO much bigger than Mercy even though he's younger!</div>
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Love these girls! Such a treat to catch up.</div>
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These babies loved checking each other out. Can you believe his belly?!</div>
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Playing with Nana</div>
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At breakfast with Tay and Logan. LOVE these pictures. </div>
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All four of us!</div>
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We took Mercy to see her first movie, "Into The Woods." She slept through most of it!</div>
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Hanging out with Tio Austin and Papa.</div>
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While we were in California I went up to my grandparents to learn how to make dolls from my grandma. She makes the most beautiful <a href="http://hmocruz.blogspot.com/2011/02/creative-juices.html">hand-sewn dolls</a>. They are an absolute treasure! I was so grateful to spend time with my grandma, mom, aunt and cousins for the day. Hopefully I can start making my own dolls and do grandma justice!</div>
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Grandma and Mom busy sewing!</div>
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Grandma stitching an eye.</div>
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Nana and Mercy playing with my grandma's dog, Dixie. This dog LOVED to play — and lick — Mercedes! Mercy didn't mind it either.</div>
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With Grandma, Mom, Mercy and cousin Kourtney.</div>
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My work in progress! Grandma had already sewn the lips on, but I did the eye!</div>
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On our way home. Lots of cuddling and naps on the plane!</div>
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In the Colorado airport.</div>
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Playing with dad on the plane.</div>
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Always,<br />
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<br />Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-78391166116621521472015-01-03T17:30:00.000-06:002015-03-02T16:15:30.980-06:00California Trip, Week 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We were lucky enough to spend two weeks in California for Christmas. We had a wonderful time introducing Mercedes to friends and family! Enjoy the picture overload!</div>
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Mercedes' first flight! She hardly fussed on our way to California, save for when it was 2 a.m. our time and we were trying to get her to sleep. Thankfully, she did take a nap in the airport during the layover. </div>
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Mercy girl hanging out with Papa and my parent's dog Roscoe. Roscoe was pretty smitten with Mercy, too! He always had to be around checking out what she was doing.</div>
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Mercedes with Uncle Dallas...and Roscoe, of course.</div>
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Family photos the Sunday before Christmas. Mercy was really into it, obviously.</div>
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Roscoe helping Nana give Mercy a bath.</div>
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Silly dog.</div>
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Nana really wanted to get a photo of Mercy with Santa, so we spent an hour or so standing in line at the mall. It was mostly boring, but worth it: Just look at this photo! </div>
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While shopping at Wal Mart.</div>
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We made the most delicious sugar cookies with Nana. Mercy "helped" with the sprinkles.</div>
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We all scarfed these cookies down. They were literally the best homemade sugar cookies I've ever had.</div>
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Mercy opening Christmas gifts with Papa. She wasn't very impressed. </div>
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Lots of naps and cuddling with my girl during vacation.</div>
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We spent an afternoon in Old Sac with family, but I didn't get many pictures. I snagged this photo of me and Mercy (she's hiding under the blanket in the baby sling) at the <a href="http://www.csrmf.org/">California State Railroad Museum.</a></div>
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Family photo op in front of the Charlie Brown tree at the State Capitol.</div>
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At the Sacramento State Capitol.</div>
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Playing with Uncle Dallas. It was so fun to see tiny Mercy with her big uncle. All her uncles loved holding her, playing with her and showing her around the house. They were all wrapped around her tiny fingers!</div>
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With Uncle Tyler. Tyler was able to calm Mercy down when Nana and I were gone. Nobody else could manage it, and Tyler was quite proud.</div>
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Mom and I went to see "Dirty Dancing" in Sacramento. The play wasn't great, but the company was!</div>
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Old Sac had the most adorable Christmas program. We absolutely loved it! </div>
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In Old Sac.</div>
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Family selfie in Old Sac</div>
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Always,<br />
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<br />Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-47003584247723310442014-12-15T14:24:00.002-06:002014-12-15T14:24:40.657-06:00On Joy and Sunshine (Month Four)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd6KhHU6yZZNfJo-xIiY28-hXLbLeqfJp0_4Ol5EeDYZcm4OX6zDk63n_MGd1Fi3idGEVKZRYM9ehykAVpNUTJeFE7s38uwR3a5rBRSBUdT2RzN0MDvzKORCLaXxbRk_alrq6SBoDyLTNb/s1600/IMG_4330.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd6KhHU6yZZNfJo-xIiY28-hXLbLeqfJp0_4Ol5EeDYZcm4OX6zDk63n_MGd1Fi3idGEVKZRYM9ehykAVpNUTJeFE7s38uwR3a5rBRSBUdT2RzN0MDvzKORCLaXxbRk_alrq6SBoDyLTNb/s1600/IMG_4330.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg5hub2mre-muJzUqq6LofyixgeT5z2KokmxY2CnLMASYcHh_QXzLG4OwrC4u0c1TSRO1AJdcgr_pBbvEfYubcgzsxT6A8hSaLMz-HM-yVBLPopwmIl66HZDHVNlUld2a7k_1RotLsNsa6/s1600/IMG_4352.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg5hub2mre-muJzUqq6LofyixgeT5z2KokmxY2CnLMASYcHh_QXzLG4OwrC4u0c1TSRO1AJdcgr_pBbvEfYubcgzsxT6A8hSaLMz-HM-yVBLPopwmIl66HZDHVNlUld2a7k_1RotLsNsa6/s1600/IMG_4352.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguC_v9H4SlQiA8pVhqErKMSGHzvQNBRnqSmcFlf-ikv0f8MB66JUpzd5dlXawV0ghR8x_njii5EdrHdQLkvRLW3BB0CHN0toscqPgs__VfJ94fdeg_mrhzMe_UEtYBJAKLZqxti1xmFzao/s1600/IMG_4346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguC_v9H4SlQiA8pVhqErKMSGHzvQNBRnqSmcFlf-ikv0f8MB66JUpzd5dlXawV0ghR8x_njii5EdrHdQLkvRLW3BB0CHN0toscqPgs__VfJ94fdeg_mrhzMe_UEtYBJAKLZqxti1xmFzao/s1600/IMG_4346.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
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<i> Oh, this girl just fills up my whole soul with that grin. She's become a mover and shaker. She rolls around everywhere when we lay her on the ground. In no time she'll be rolling from back to belly! She gnaws on everything in sight and drools like mad. I think teeth are around the corner! </i></div>
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Mercedes,</div>
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I can't believe another month of your life is gone in a flash. Month four gives me pause because it means we're a third of a way through your first year. Every day I watch in wonder as I see you learn and transform before my eyes. While part of me is eager to witness you flourishing, the other part of me already aches to have my petite 7-pound baby back. I totally understand why people go through this transformative experience called motherhood more than once.</div>
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Perhaps the most exciting development this month has been you discovering how to giggle. The first time you did it caught me off guard and made me laugh in return. You should have seen me the next few days. I tried every antic to hear your charming little laugh again to no avail. I can't say I was above begging, but not even that worked. Sadly — for me — you don't perform on command. But soon enough just my face was enough to send you into hysterics. Of course, that left your dad no option besides to say I'm funny looking. Thanks, Mercy.</div>
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Your life is blissfully simple right now. And I imagine — and hope — for years you will have very little concerns in life. They say ignorance is bliss. And I suppose it could be argued that it's easy to be happy when you're innocently unaware of life's trials and heartaches. But for now, joy comes easily and simply for you. Hold on to your joy. Fight for it. It does not always come easily, for most. It is easy to be happy when things are easy. But there is peace in being joyful and grateful in all circumstances.</div>
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I hope the simple things in life always fill you with reverence, wonder and gratitude for your Creator. I hope you find the magic in day-to-day living and soul-filling joy in your relationships with others. I pray you always remember that life is beautiful and "men are, that they might have joy." (2 Nephi 2:25)</div>
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I know it's cliche, but you are my sunshine. You make me smile and laugh almost constantly. I hope you'll always be willing to share that joy wherever you may go. Keep shining, baby girl.</div>
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Always,<br />
MamaHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-59089815907367199112014-12-13T13:35:00.000-06:002015-02-20T13:35:38.023-06:00Allison's Visit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
My former college roomie Allison came out to visit us in December. We were so glad to have her! Mercy and Allison just loved each other! We can't wait for the next time we can all get together again.</div>
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Always,<br />
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<br />Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8467226659190849780.post-20351101307985085652014-11-30T13:30:00.000-06:002015-02-20T13:31:07.095-06:00Mercy's First Thanksgiving<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
For Thanksgiving this year we were able to spend a few days in Lubbock with our family (and a few friends!). We had such a good time spending time together, and we're grateful we live so close to family now!</div>
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The grandkids with their Aba!</div>
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Our dear friend Charlie was in town and was able to stop by to meet Mercedes.</div>
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Tia Becky reading to Mercy</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOJ4ASFEOVeBsXQG7eU86cZgmVt4t7SP_Uc7XWuXGXHIVX2clPljrGVEixDcNuedmuZl2s_-V-F6D6lPU6hmO3ooPXRuWOe-I0K29zlIMH7ofzPFW3nVNs7VIEV0aQtxbfY6WZTVAxeNw/s1600/IMG_3672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHOJ4ASFEOVeBsXQG7eU86cZgmVt4t7SP_Uc7XWuXGXHIVX2clPljrGVEixDcNuedmuZl2s_-V-F6D6lPU6hmO3ooPXRuWOe-I0K29zlIMH7ofzPFW3nVNs7VIEV0aQtxbfY6WZTVAxeNw/s1600/IMG_3672.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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Mercy girl meeting Ken Noteware. Ken is the man that pushed me and Nathaniel together! He will always have a special place in our hearts!</div>
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Always,<br />
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg234t1_kaXCQWpJI0sHjGRIDGFgkZAIxFmjizBy1QShByOBrzh72SCrmxYSEyk49YP083RA1WizF3B8jmE4_OvKMiML0_02ojbH9dKkevJhqWpdDfstuenKEvBTroHQaeyF0hOQNJ6sC5Q/s1600/3EC6BC271AB7C5DED5892FDD39300282.png" /></div>
<br />Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00881011231654332764noreply@blogger.com0