A Grinchy Christmas Season

Gingerbread Houses this year

It's been a Grinchy few weeks. I normally love Christmas. I like to deck our halls and listen to holiday music and watch sappy holiday movies for months, but this year I'm having a harder time finding the joy. I always look forward to Christmas. I had all my shopping done by Halloween this year in an effort to focus on being present and joyful and having a shorter to-do list in the month of December.

Then we decided to buy a house. We were supposed to close on December 11th, but the sellers have had some issues, and we're now not going to close until January 8th at the earliest. But for a solid month, we thought we'd be in our first home for Christmas. I leapt into action, packing, purging, organizing. In my productive whirlwind, my children definitely started to feel ignored, so I scaled back, but still worked with a goal in mind, feeling so excited to be in my own home. Then we got the news about the delayed closing, and I was angry.

It was December 4th when we found out everything was delayed. I was upset. My apartment is virtually packed. I have limited kitchen and bathroom stuff out. Most of the toys are packed. My baby is sleeping in a pack n play surrounded by boxes in our extra kitchen. And now that had to be sustained for more than another month instead of a mere week. I was so angry that none of these issues were disclosed. I had felt so led to this house, and now it just wasn't coming together.

I complained to Ty that our Christmas was ruined. Instead of being together as a family in our first home, we are going to be in our tired basement apartment for the third time. There is going to be more snow when we move. We had to change plans with our landlords. It also meant another month without a garage which is kind of a big deal when you’re loading and unloading two small children in the snow. I had just gotten to a peaceful place in my heart about leaving this community I’ve loved so much. I was moving forward instead of being sad about all we're leaving. And then I had to take two steps back.

After I cried and complained, I decided at least I could put up our tree and get out our stockings. I set up the tree, but it wasn't as joyful as some years. I decided not to put ornaments on it since Simon is so grabby and Will discovered that he loves to hide underneath and behind the tree. I went hunting for a stocking for Simon and couldn't find one I loved. We got out our train, but it’s stressful because my kids don’t know how to keep it on the tracks while they play with it. I haven't really been able to do the holiday baking I like to do because so much of my stuff is packed. I haven't had a very good attitude about it.

I got tickets to go to the zoo lights. My kids love the zoo. It’s one of their favorite places, and we’ve never been at Christmastime, so I thought it was a great idea. And the lights were amazing, but Will threw a fit for the first 20 minutes because he didn't want a coat or shoes, and he wanted me to hold him instead of being in the stroller. And even though he cheered up, and Simon loved it, it felt like a slap in the face. I already was feeling far from jolly and my attempt to do something different and fun ended up being a power struggle. (Incidentally, everything is a power struggle with Will these days).

A hard stage with Will combined with a beastly 8 month sleep regression and all the house drama has left me feeling utterly defeated and in a more downtrodden mental state than I’ve experienced in recent memory. This time of year has always been magical for me, especially since I’ve been married. Usually, I’m reminiscing on our courtship and the weeks leading up to our wedding, or I’m remembering when I was “great with child,” waiting for Will to be born. Those were truly beautiful and sacred times that I treasure, and it always has felt poetic that they coincided with the celebration of the Savior’s birth.

This year is a survival mode Christmas I guess, and it hurts my heart to realize that. What I’m realizing this month (again) is that mortal life isn’t always joyful and exciting even though we want it to be. Sometimes we just survive, and that’s okay. I’m still talking to my kids about Jesus. We’re still reading stories together and talking about what gifts we want to give and what our hopes are. We’re still playing “I Spy” everywhere we go, looking for the symbols of Christmas. There’s disappointment here, but there is joy too, and there can be both. So Merry Christmas, everyone. My heart already feels too large and heavy for my chest, so I don’t think I can bear for it to grow three sizes like the Grinch, but I’d settle for a little Christmas miracle to lift my spirits and make things a little less gray and a little more jolly.

Processing Simon's Birth

I'm still trying to process Simon's birth emotionally. It was so far from what I wanted it to be and how I thought it would go that I'm having trouble reconciling feelings of hurt and anger that hit me at unpredictable times. For the most part, I love having a baby. I enjoy the snuggles and the sweet Spirit that accompanies them. I like breastfeeding and rocking them. I like that when they're sad, a lot of times just holding them is all they need. I appreciate that as the mom, I'm usually their favorite human. But this newborn phase has been different in that I'm dealing with pent up feelings surrounding Simon's birth.

Lately I just keep thinking of things that I should have said to the doctors and nurses to advocate for myself and have a birth that at least resembled the birth I wanted to have. Then I'm filled with anger and despair because based on my experience, I'm not convinced anyone would have listened anyway. And I feel defensive and think about how it's really unfair and unrealistic for me to have to be advocating for myself when I was trying to birth a baby which is such an all-consuming process.

Mostly I'm upset that I didn't get to spend the first few hours of Simon's life skin-to-skin with him, soaking up the snuggles. And a secondary frustration is that I don't have any pictures of when I first met him. Our plan was that my sister, Hailey, was going to take pictures of Simon's birth, but when we ended up going to the hospital, she stayed at our apartment with Will until my mother-in-law could get there. There were plenty of people just standing around in the birth room, but none of them took a picture of Ty and I with our brand new baby. My mom, the only person who did take a picture, was anxiously engaged in the birth and couldn't get a picture for a few minutes.

I oscillate between overwhelming anger and profound sadness that leaves me in tears at random and inconvenient times. Thinking about the way my baby was whisked away before we could really enjoy physical connection and bonding makes my heart ache. And the fact that when he was brought back from being suctioned and evaluated, he was wrapped up and no longer available for skin-to-skin makes me angry. I did spend more time doing skin-to-skin later, but it wasn't the same as it would have been right away. I know that from past experience, and I feel robbed. It brings up the constant feeling I had throughout my hospital stay of being disregarded in my wishes and intuition as a mother which was a complete 180 from my experiences with The Birth Center, feeling constantly supported and validated as a human being and mother.

"Love at first sight. I've been looking through birth photos today,
and I just had to share this beauty from when #babywilliamclark
 was only minutes old. I can hardly believe that my heart can open
up to another baby as much as it did for Will, but I know it will.
I already love this new baby so much, and I can't wait to
 have another moment like this."

I came across this Instagram post the other day. Often when I'm nursing Simon, Will climbs into my lap, and we look through pictures from when he was a baby or through past Instagram posts. This post was so full of hope for Simon's birth. Of course it resulted in tears from me and questions from my toddler. Things didn't go the way I hoped.

It's hard to communicate all this when people ask me how I'm doing. I don't mean to minimize the miracles of Simon's birth- there were many. I'm not taking his health for granted. I'm disappointed that his birth and first day of life weren't as peaceful and empowering and beautiful as they could have been, and I know that from experience. I'm grateful once again for the wisdom and understanding of my midwives, one of which said, “Just because having a healthy baby is the most important thing doesn't mean it's the only important thing.” That wisdom has really helped me to have the permission I needed to feel such a wide range of emotions without comparing myself to others or minimizing my experience.

Eve, the midwife who stayed with us through Simon's birth, has been so helpful as I've processed my experience and grieved the loss of the birth I hoped for as well as the loss of the precious first few hours of Simon's life. I'm also grateful for an understanding mom who not only understands and loves me, but also loves and understands birth. I really appreciate friends and family who have let me talk through my experience without judgement as well. I love Simon. I'm so grateful that he arrived safely. I'm glad I have such a strong support system and outstanding postpartum care. I'm going to continue having to process and reconcile experiences with Simon's birth, but I'm grateful to not be doing it alone.

From Only to Oldest

It’s been an amazing month with adding Simon to our family and the adjustment that has entailed. The person who has been affected most directly is obviously Will. For Tyler and I, the adjustment has been pretty smooth. We feel like we have more of a clue as to how to be parents this time around than we did with Will, and that’s been empowering. Of course, having a newborn is always exhausting, but it hasn’t rocked our world the way it did with Will. This could be because Simon is more easy-going than Will, but whatever the reason, adding Simon to our world has been pretty great.

The person who has been most affected has definitely been Will. Going from the center of our world to sharing that space has really rocked his world. Luckily, he hasn’t taken that out on Simon. In fact, he adores Simon. He regularly has meltdown when I won’t let him pick Simon up by himself or hold him every second of every day or wake him up whenever he feels like it.

What Will has struggled with is that I am no longer at his complete disposal all the time. Now that it’s been a month, he’s doing better, but the first two weeks were a serious battle. He was especially jealous when I would nurse Simon. Even though Ty and I were trying to be really intentional about spending one on one time with Will every day, he was still a disaster. He was acting out and being really contrary and having emotional breakdowns at every turn. It was exhausting and frustrating, but my overwhelming feeling was actually sympathy.

Watching Will struggle so much has been the hardest aspect of my postpartum experience this time around. I’ve recovered really well and quickly physically. I haven’t felt depressed or even had the blues. But my heart keeps breaking for Will. It breaks when he asks me if he can nurse or if he can snuggle with me while I’m rocking Simon to sleep. I want to cry when I tell him I’ll help him in a minute and he starts crying and asking for his daddy. It’s been really hard. In a lot of ways, it has felt like having Simon has made me a worse mom to Will.

I know that’s not the reality and that this is a period of adjustment that won’t last forever, but it has been really hard on my mommy heart. In a lot of ways, I miss being Will’s one and only. I miss being able to give all my attention to one little human. I wouldn’t change our life for anything; I love Simon, and I’m so glad he’s here, but I finally understand why people choose to have one child and leave it at that. Both of my boys are important to me and fill my heart-- I just want to be real about the fact that it’s been really hard. I’ve never been so frustrated with Will before, and then I’m angry with myself for being so frustrated with a toddler who is just beginning to learn about emotion regulation and sharing and love and family.

When Simon was born, I thought that I would want to spend the first day just with him and Ty and no one else. I was surprised when, just minutes after Simon’s birth, my thoughts turned to Will. My heart ached for him to be with us. I wanted to snuggle and kiss him and introduce him to his brother. It was almost as hard for me to wait for my mother-in-law to bring Will to the hospital as it was to wait for Simon to be released from the NICU and brought back to me. Each of my boys holds an important place in our family and my heart, and I am so grateful to have them both. I just didn’t realize that my heart was going to feel so bruised while it stretches and grows to find its new normal.

Today, Will wanted to be held all. day. long. It was exhausting. Not only is it physically exhausting to hold a toddler constantly, but it’s emotionally draining to have him pulling on me, asking me to pick him up when I’m trying to keep our household together and take care of an infant on top of addressing Will’s needs. When I was feeling overwhelmed and frustrated this afternoon, I turned on some music, and Will and I ended up waltzing around the kitchen and living room. It started as an effort to stop his whining, and it ended with us giggling and then snuggled up in the rocking chair.

It’s hard for me to take the time to sit down and snuggle with Will. So much of my time lately is dominated by snuggling Simon while I nurse him or put him down for a nap, and when I am not doing one of those things, I don’t really want to be sitting and sharing my body with another tiny person, especially because said tiny person seems to be extremely gifted in the department of smashing his body into the most sensitive parts of my body. I’m glad that I can hold him though. I’m grateful that I don’t have to go back to work following Simon’s birth. I am overwhelmed by the complexity of motherhood and the fact that I can be so full of love that my heart aches and simultaneously want to shut myself in the bathroom and never interact with my toddler again.

I guess that’s life though. It’s beautiful and messy and exhausting and fulfilling. I’m glad this is my life. I just think there is power in transparency, and in the interest of being honest, this has been a really hard transition on the Will front. I’m glad it’s getting better, and it feels like I can see the light at the end of a long, emotionally-fraught tunnel because I really love this crazy, wonderful two-year-old, and I really love being a mom.

What's In His Name?

Simon Robert Johns. This is the name I have been pulling for my whole pregnancy. Ty and i agreed that we'd like to honor Tyler's dad with the middle name this time, but Ty wasn't a fan of the name Simon. He really wanted to go with the name Theodore and call him Teddy, and I wasn't sold on that. It's interesting because Simon wasn't one of my favorites last time.

Around 20 weeks, when we found out we were having another boy, I had the impression that the baby's name was Simon. I talked to Ty about it, but neither one of us wanted to commit before we met our little guy, and he wasn't convinced. Throughout my pregnancy, we talked about different names, but I always felt strongly about Simon. I even picked up a book that was about Simon Rodia, the artist who created Watts Towers, and it just felt like another little nugget leading me to the name.

Really, the reason I love the name Simon is because of Simon Peter in the Bible. I love that Peter changed his name when the Savior asked him to because Peter is constantly changing and improving. Even though Simon is the name he left behind, I just love that connection. I remember studying the New Testament in Seminary in high school and feeling so much love and respect for Peter. He left everything to follow the Savior, and I hope I can raise my Simon to love God and Jesus Christ to that degree as well.

I know people often tell the story of Peter denying the Savior, and my takeaway from that is that everyone makes mistakes and falters. There are several stories in the Bible in which Peter makes a mistake or is chastised, but he always repents and comes back stronger in his testimony which is an example I would love for my children to follow. Peter’s faith in following Jesus by walking on water astounds me. In my estimation, Peter is real. He is a flawed man who did his very best to follow the Savior and was constantly working to be better. Simon Peter is one of my biblical heroes, and I am happy to have a son whose name can reflect that even a little bit.

Additionally, Simon means to listen. I love that image. Will and Simon were very different in the womb, and in just a couple of days it’s clear that they are very different newborns as well. Will was constantly moving in utero. It was like he had a pogo stick or something, and I continually got the impression from him that he was excited about life and full of energy. Simon was more relaxed. His movements felt more like he was just stretching, trying to find a comfortable position. I got the impression that he was going to be more of a listener and more studious than William is. I’m interested to see if that’s how they grow up, but as of right now, Simon is already a much more mellow baby with lower energy than Will has.

Beyond that, Simon's birth taught me a lot about listening. The birth room was so chaotic when I was in labor, but I was able to tune it out and listen to the guidance of the Spirit in order to get Simon here safely. I realized how important it was for me to listen and focus on the spiritual rather than the temporal, and I think that Simon's peaceful nature was a large piece of my ability to listen amidst a storm.

I’m thrilled to have a little boy named Simon Robert. I think it’s a strong name. I think he can grow into it, but I also think it already fits him. My love for him just keeps growing with every moment.

Simon's Birth Story

 

Most people I've talked to in the last little while know that I have been antsy to have my baby for a few weeks. What most people don't know is that I have also had the impression throughout my pregnancy that something intense was going to go down. There was a placental bleed in the first trimester when I thought I was going to miscarry, but even after that resolved, I felt like something was going to go wrong. That's not normal for me. I'm a pretty optimistic person, and I had a normal, low risk pregnancy both times with no red flags. I'm grateful for those impressions so that I was somewhat emotionally prepared for the challenges that came with this birth.

Ty and I planned on a home birth this time, and we were all ready to go. Ty submitted his final project for the semester at 11:59 pm on March 18th (baby's due date), and we went to bed. At 2, I woke up feeling a pretty intense contraction. I didn't want to pay attention too soon, but I couldn't sleep through them, and they were coming every 5-7 minutes. I took a shower and ate a snack, and the contractions stayed consistent. My labor with Will was 18 hours, so I was trying to settle in for the long haul, but things felt so much more intense this time around. I debated about calling my midwife or waiting, and I settled on calling her.

I talked to Eve at 4:30, and then texted my mom and sister to have them head to the house for the birth. Eve got there at 5:15, and Hailey and my mom were about 5 or 10 minutes after that. The first thing Eve did was listen to the baby's heart tones through a few contractions, and it was obvious that there were major decelerations happening at the peak of each contraction. At that point I was dilated to a 6, but baby's heart tones were problematic. We said a prayer together, and Tyler gave me a blessing, and we knew we needed to go to the hospital.

Because we had planned on a home birth, I didn't have a hospital bag packed, so we will threw a few things together and rushed to the hospital which is normally 15 minutes away (it took us 10 to get there). We left Hailey with Will, waiting for Tyler's mom. We got to the hospital at 6:20, and my contractions were consistently getting more intense, and baby's heart rate was still decelerating with each one. Luckily, he was recovering quickly between contractions, but since the most likely problem was a pinching in the cord, he needed to be born. I had progressed to an 8, and at the suggestion of the attending nurse, we decided to break my water.

When the doctor broke my water, there was meconium in it which is another risk factor, and baby really needed to be born now. Unfortunately, the doctors wanted me to labor on my back or side which made the contractions infinitely more painful. I asked if I could move to my hands and knees on the bed, and they didn't really want me to, but I had the strongest impression that I really needed to be on my knees. My mom and Ty and a nurse helped me turn over, and it felt so much better. The contractions were still intense, but I felt like I could cope better. I stayed that way through one contraction, and when the next came, I felt the urge to push, but the Spirit told me to wait. I know that I was only able to progress those last few centimeters because I followed the Spirit and changed positions, and if I had pushed during that contraction, the baby would have been in distress until another contraction had come so I could push him out.

I turned back over to my back at the insistence of the doctors, and when the next contraction came, I pushed three times, and he was born. The cord was wrapped around his head almost like a set of headphones which was why he'd had the decels as he descended. It was so fast and chaotic, but we were all glad that he came quickly and without the need for surgery. It was 7:36 am, barely more than an hour since we had arrived. They set the baby on my chest and worked to get him to cry. He did cry, and I delivered the placenta with no complications and no hemorrhage this time, so that was lovely. Unfortunately, because of the meconium, so he had to go to the NICU for a little while. He was 8 pounds 7 ounces and 21.25 inches long, and his weight was taken after he had pooped a couple of times. He’s almost a full pound heavier and over an inch taller than Will was at birth.

Tyler went with him, and I stayed in labor and delivery with my mom and Hailey and Eve. It was strange not to have my baby or Ty or Will with me. I felt sad without them. Ty and I hadn't agreed on a name, so he was nameless and not with his mama for a couple of hours. We were finally able to visit the NICU after a little while, and baby's respiration was quite good, but there were no doctors or nurses in sight to release him, and I had to get checked in upstairs, so I left my husband and baby again. It was even worse to leave them the second time. Ty finally brought him in when it was 11ish, and I was finally able to breastfeed the baby and talk about names. I'll write another time about the meaning behind his name, but we decided to name him Simon Robert Johns. I love the name and the baby.

We felt good to go at that point, and we wanted a 12 hour discharge, but the pediatrician wouldn't agree to that due to the meconium. We looked over the against medical advice forms, and I really wanted to go home to my own home and bed. The midwives at The Birth Center are always on call, and I felt like we would be in great hands with them. Ty even called our insurance to see if leaving AMA would cause a problem with our claim (it wouldn't). The hospital staff pretty much withdrew care when we mentioned that we might leave earlier than suggested. It was actually nice to have a break from the constant interruptions, but it was also concerning because no one was taking vitals or monitoring anything, and no one ever actually laid out the risks of going home early until Tyler pressed the nurse for an answer. We ultimately decided that I would stay with Simon and my mom would be backup, so Ty could go home and be with Will overnight in order to disrupt his life as little as possible. We felt kind of bullied into staying, and I think we'd have been fine, but Ty is naturally risk averse, and we decided that I might be able to rest better and take better care of Simon without worrying about Will too.

We live so close to the hospital that Ty actually went home and napped for a couple of hours in the afternoon before coming back to the hospital. I was able to nap off and on which was nice, but I think my mom was up for most of 24 hours without rest. She's amazing, and I'm so grateful to have her as part of my birth team and cheerleading section in general. It's been so nice to have her support. So far, Simon has been a much sleepier newborn than his older brother (who seriously never slept), but we still had a tough first night, and I wouldn't have survived without my mom.

Through the night (from about 2 am-4 am), Simon’s respiration rate was high. Because of the meconium in the fluid that puts him at risk for pneumonia if paired with a fever or other symptoms. Simon didn’t have any other symptoms, thank goodness, and by 6 am, his rates were normal and healthy. I wasn’t worried about his respiration through the night because he was crying a lot and was struggling to breastfeed during the times when the nurses were checking his vitals, and that obviously makes the rate higher, but the on call pediatrician didn’t seem to care about circumstances or anything else we had to say. She wanted to keep Simon another 24 hours even though my mom is a birth assistant who has neonatal resuscitation credentials and medical training and was going home with us, and we have access to a midwife who is on call 24/7 who can better support our care since she actually knows us and is willing to come to our house if needed.

As I thought and prayed about it, I felt comfortable with the decision to go home. We had to sign an AMA form, but I was not impressed with the pediatrician. She did not explain any risks we were assuming, nor did she tell us what to look for in Simon as warning signs that we needed to return to the hospital. It was an experience that assured me again that as William and Simon’s parents, Ty and I are the ones who ultimately have the stewardship over their health and well-being. I think it’s too bad that so many doctors are unwilling to really listen to parents or even try to understand their perspective. (I know there are good ones too. I just didn’t happen to come in contact with any through this experience). So we took our baby away from the hospital against medical advice, and I have to say: I feel so much better being at home. Simon is breathing really well. We’ve gotten more rest. Will gets to be with us. And I don’t see any downsides to our decision. I’m so grateful that we have the Spirit to help us make these decisions because otherwise, I think this would have been another depressing day in the hospital rather than a chance to be all together as a family and start recovering from an intense birth.

Overall, our outcomes were good, but this birth was nothing like the home birth I had pictured. It was fast and furious and pure chaos, but Simon has such a sweet and relaxed personality which has made the experience sweeter. The highlight was definitely when Will came to meet his brother. I wasn't sure how much he understood about the baby brother in my belly being an actual human, but as soon as he came in the hospital room, he knew his brother and was enamored with him. He didn't want anyone else to have a turn holding him, and he was so sweet with him. It melted my heart and made the train wreck of the morning worth it.

This was not the birth I wanted or had planned, and that's been hard and emotional, and I'm sad about it which is okay. It doesn't mean I don't love my baby or that I'm not grateful for hospitals and medical professionals, but I'm allowed to be sad, and I am. I'm counting my blessings that Simon is doing well and was born without surgery. I'm humbled that he was released from the NICU relatively quickly. I'm so glad I didn't need an epidural, so I could walk around immediately and feel ready to go right away. Most of all, I'm grateful for constant promptings from the Spirit that brought Simon safely here. My heart is truly overflowing.

FAQs at 39 Weeks

How are you?

Tired. Excited. Sick of being pregnant.

Are you dilating at all?

The Birth Center doesn’t do routine cervical checks since it’s not an accurate indication of when the baby will born and can actually hinder the natural process of dilation and effacement, so I have no idea. I’m just letting my body do its thing.

Have you had a lot of contractions?
Nope. None. I'm trying not to be discouraged by this, but aside from millions of Braxton Hicks that aren't intense enough to even draw my attention, there have been no contractions to speak of.

When is your due date?

March 18th is my due date. It feels like a million years away.

When will you be induced?

The Birth Center also doesn’t do traditional induction. If I get to almost 42 weeks, I’ll do some natural and homeopathic things to try to bring on labor. If the baby isn’t born, I’ll have to transfer to a hospital for traditional induction.

Were you early or late with Will?

Will was born right on his due date, so I feel like I have no frame of reference for whether this baby will be early or late. It’s more maddening this time around for some reason.

How do you think Will will do when the baby is born?

A couple of months ago, I was terrified of the prospect of WIll’s adjustment to life with a sibling, but I’m actually feeling cautiously optimistic now. He loves babies, and he talks about baby brother all the time. He’s also started asking to hold babies and kiss them, and he loves to get the baby’s diapers out of the dresser for me too. I know it won’t be totally smooth, but I’m feeling positive and hoping we have more happiness than tears.

If you need me, I'll be over here, bouncing on my exercise ball, sipping my red raspberry leaf tea, and praying this baby comes soon.

Snuggles with Will

Snuggling during a movie

The last two months have been kind of rough on the mom front. Will has been clingy and more needy than usual, and I have been more uncomfortable and less patient than usual. Will was going through this awesome phase where he wouldn’t let anyone except for me help him with anything which was less than fantastic since I have a lot of willing helpers in my life who Will would not accept any help from. I’m sure his little self can sense the big changes on the horizon. We talk about baby brother all the time, and he loves to check on him at the Birth Center and feel him move. It’s just been kind of a struggle, and it’s definitely been a long couple of months, but the last two weeks, my sweet, helpful, happy toddler has reappeared!

Will is normally a very active kid. He naturally skips when he’s walking because he’s just a bouncy little person. He loves to give hugs and kisses on his own terms, but he’s not much of a snuggler anymore. He just has too many things to do. The last couple of weeks though, he has asked me on an almost daily basis for “Mama snuggles.” It melts my heart. It doesn’t usually last more than a minute or two, but it has melted my heart every time. He is such a sweetheart, and I love that he wants to connect with me physically. It’s really made me realize that I am going to miss these days of having my attention focused on one little person rather than divided.

I’ve been so busy being tired of being pregnant and excited to meet this next little man that I haven’t taken much time to grieve the changes that are inevitably coming into my world on the Will front. I know that so much joy awaits us, but it also breaks my heart a little bit, and I know that that’s okay. I want to enjoy and soak up this time with Will without wishing it away as much as I really am tired of being pregnant. I have an amazing toddler here already, and I want to love on him as much as possible for as long as he’ll let me.

Yesterday morning, Will woke up at 6 am which is not his norm. He usually goes down at 8 and wakes up between 8:30 and 10 the next morning, so when I went into his room, he was still groggy. He reached up and said, “Rock with Mama? Snuggle? Sing songs?” I started to cry as I tried to find a way for us to snuggle around my rather large belly and rocked him and sang songs with him for 20 minutes or so before he went back to sleep. It was a moment that I really got to cherish despite the fact that I was exhausted and my body is sore thanks to the whole nine-months-pregnant thing.

I don’t want to miss any opportunities for the precious one-on-one time I have left with Will. He’s such a sweet kid, and as excited as I am to see him with his baby brother, I’m going to miss our little love bubble with just the two of us. So if you need me over the next week or so (or until our baby decides to come), I’ll be snuggling my first born.

I Am So Tired

Some fun on Trax. Will was in heaven.

I don’t remember being this uncomfortable at the end of my pregnancy with Will, and I don’t remember it being so hard to get enough sleep. Maybe it was, and my brain is being merciful by not remembering, or maybe this pregnancy has been so different from the last one that I am seeing more and more discrepancies than similarities. My pregnancy pillow is doing nothing to help with the discomfort of trying to sleep, and baby’s most active time is usually from 10 pm to about 2:30 am. It’s distracting above all else, but I know from my experience with Will’s birth that I’ll actually miss feeling the kicks and wiggles of this little guy once he’s born.

I’m looking forward to this baby’s birth. I know that labor is challenging, but I also know that it results in a sweet little baby. I’m so excited to see his face and kiss his head and argue with Tyler about his name. I can’t wait to introduce him to his big brother. I love this baby so much, and Will has been especially interested in all things “baby brother” this week which warms my mommy heart to bursting and results in a cry fest.

I’ve been a basketcase the last few days. It’s like my eyes are always primed and ready to cry at any time. Will does something adorable? Tears. The baby moves in a surprising way? Tears. I’m out of cookies? Tears. I’m tired? Tears. Will takes his first train ride? Tears. My sister gets home from her mission? Tears. It takes Will 45 minutes to eat his little bowl of breakfast? Tears. Driving home in the dark, and Will is singing the Hundred Acre Wood song in the back seat? Tears. It’s just my natural response to everything. The crying response seems more heightened this time around too.

I’m having a hard time with the waiting game this time. When we were waiting for Will’s birth, I was excited, but I wasn’t in a hurry for him to be born. I think there was a little undercurrent of fear in the face of the responsibility of parenthood. But this time, there’s no avoiding that because I’m already a mom, and I know that along with the stress and exhaustion and struggle of parenthood, there is true beauty and grace and so much love that you wonder if you can bear it. I already have that everyday, and I know that my heart will somehow expand to envelope this little person as well. I am humbled and overwhelmed by the opportunity to be a mother to another little human, and I am looking forward to it even though I know that I have many more sleepless nights and a postpartum recovery ahead of me.

Basically, I’m tired and tired of waiting for the baby’s birth even though I know logically that I probably have at least two weeks before this baby makes his debut. In the meantime, I’m trying to soak up as much one on one time with Will as I can and not drive everyone around me to insanity with my illogical concerns and incessant crying.

William Clark: Year 2

William is two! I can’t even believe it. The passage of time seems so crazy when I look at Will. It’s hard to really remember our life without him because it seems like he’s been part of us forever, but I also remember giving birth to him like it was yesterday. I know it’s cliche to feel that way about my little boy, but I do. There are so many aspects of his personality that have existed since he was in the womb. I first felt him move at 13 weeks (which is super early), and I felt him move constantly after that. I used to tell Ty that our baby was a gymnast because he was so active all the time. Now I watch him move, and it’s like he has an invisible pogo stick with him constantly. He is bouncy in all his movement and brings us endless laughter and joy.

There have been some rough stages this year, but it has also brought some incredible development. Will is a chatterbox. He talks nonstop, and he’s pretty easy to understand. Strangers often ask me how old he is and remark on his language skills. He also has continued to develop his very strong will. He has clear ideas about what he wants and how things should be done. It’s cute until it isn’t. ;) He is still a social butterfly and wants to be interacting with people all the time. We have to leave the house every day, or he is cranky.

Luckily for me, Will is still a snuggle bug. He wants “loves” before and after bed and naps and often asks to snuggle at random times throughout the day. He’s affectionate with people he knows well, but he loves to tease by not giving hugs when his aunts and uncles ask for them. He also still loves to read books, and we spend a lot of time reading the same books over and over for about a week before he moves on to new ones. He especially loves anything that has to do with animals, dinosaurs in particular.

Balls are still his favorite toys, and he’s developed a deep love for basketball this winter as we’ve trekked to Molly’s games. He can usually be found with his baby doll named Sarah under one arm and his ball in the other hand. It’s the perfect picture of who he is. He is wild and gentle, active and affectionate, kind and stubborn. I’ve been a little surprised by how rich his personality is at such a young age and how developed his preferences are. He will often tell me exactly where he wants to go and who he wants to play with, and he almost always has an opinion about what clothes to wear.

Swimming is still one of his favorite things, so that’s what we did to celebrate his birthday. We actually had his party a couple of weeks ago when his only first cousins were in town. We had pizza and ice cream and went swimming. He was thrilled with the combination. He got a tricycle that he’s ridden almost constantly since then. He also discovered how to play hide-and-seek the day after his party, and that has quickly become his favorite game to play. He loves to find his own hiding spots, and his silence while hiding is uncanny.

He talks about baby brother and his heartbeat a lot, and he likes to kiss and pet my belly to “be soft.” He loves to “help Mama,” and I’m hoping that that is a positive thing when the baby arrives. One of his favorite things to do is make cookies or dinner, and he is a true Bayles and wants to eat all the cookie dough (and the cookies). He also loves church and gets so excited when he realizes that it’s “nursery day.” He’s become the mascot of our Relief Society since I’m on the activities committee, and he usually has to come with me to planning meetings and to set up and sometimes to activities if Ty is working late. I think he has more friends than anyone I’ve ever known which is a gift that I don’t have and really admire in him.

I’m still honored and humbled by the opportunity I have to be Will’s mom on a daily basis. I hope he always wants to help me and knows how loved he is.

Here's a link to well over 200 photos of Will from the last year. It's been a wonderful adventure so far!

https://photos.app.goo.gl/Qp3lYIJICFkyVJr42

And here is a shorter version in video form:

Mamas and Bodies: A Tribute to My Mom

My mom has taught me a lot about life and love and sorrow and struggle. She’s my number one role model, and she is a fantastic mother. She’s someone who strives to be the best in every capacity she fills. Something I’ve been reflecting on as I prepare to give birth again is my relationship with my body, and it isn’t hard to see that the root of my feelings about my body come back to my mom.

I feel like I have a healthy body image. I trust my body. I do my best to take care of it. I know that it’s strong and powerful and a miraculous gift. And the reason I feel so positively about my body and empowered to do hard things physically is because of the way my mom talked to me about bodies and the way that she treated her own body as well. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I realized how rare it is to have such overwhelmingly positive feelings about my body.

My mom is strong, and when I think back on my childhood, that is easy to recognize. She used to rollerblade, pushing a stroller, to drop Hailey and me off at school. Now she has a physically intense job as a birth assistant where she uses all her muscle groups to help women give birth. She’s always talked about exercise positively, and I never heard her speak negatively about anyone’s body, including her own. She never called me skinny or chubby. When we talked about bodies, she would talk about being healthy and feeling strong.

We didn’t talk about or focus on sizes or weight in my house growing up. I don’t think it was something I ever even thought about. Even when my mom was working hard to lose weight after having babies, it wasn’t about getting down to a certain size or weight. It was about feeling comfortable in her clothes that she had worn before pregnancy and feeling strong and healthy rather than skinny. I’m grateful that that was the focus because even now I don’t worry about my weight or my size as long as I feel strong and healthy.

I also appreciate that my parents taught me about food. My mom taught me to cook. She always provided fruit and vegetables, and she explained the way metabolism works. I still vividly remember her describing the importance of breakfast in pulling your body out of starvation mode and starting your day off well. It’s something that made a huge difference in my college experience because I knew that it was important to eat before class. She talked to us about portion control. She also made and ate cookies with us. She wasn’t starving herself or only eating kale.

My mom wasn’t critical about what I chose to put into my body either. She would ask me sometimes if I had eaten anything with any nutritional value that day, but she didn’t make me feel guilty if I had three helpings of dinner or if I snitched a cookie out of the freezer. The lack of shame that I feel about food and my body is a gift that my parents gave me, and it’s one that I am super grateful as an adult.

I remember when my mom explained menstruation to me. She used words like miraculous, strong, and powerful. I learned that my body is a gift and that it is capable of incredible feats. It was a similar experience whenever my parents would teach my siblings and me about childbirth. I never had fear about those physical experiences. I actually was excited to give birth even as a teenager because my mom talked about what a spiritual experience it was and how empowering it could be to realize that you could accomplish anything.

My mom has taught me more than any other human on this Earth (with my dad’s help), and I am so grateful that she is the example of womanhood that I have continually seen. I hope I can be a strong role model for my children and teach them about the beauty and power of our bodies.