darling duckie

"on grief"

There has been a lot going on in the last couple of weeks. As most of you know, Tiffany and Spencers baby passed away before they could give birth. We are all so sad but feel a sense of peace. I wrote about it on the We Are Women blog yesterday. I would write about it more here but, to be honest with you, it is still sad and painful to think about it. I spent most of last week with no energy or desire to do anything. So for now, I will leave it at that.

I would like to thank everyone for all their love and prayers and support. It has truly been touching to see how so many rally together in times of grief and pain. I appreciate your friendship and love.

never just a mom

 

 

Just Moms by Ash Leishman

I have a friend who makes documentaries. (Doesn't that sound cool? I believe that just by knowing her my coolness factor increases several notches.) She has traveled the world working on them.

A few months ago she came over and spent the day with the child and me. She followed us around on our walk and watched us read together all the while she asked me questions about being a mom. It was still so new and raw that my thoughts kept going back to how hard it is. But every time I watch this movie I remember how much I love being Millie's mum. It doesn't mean it's not hard anymore but I am more in love with that little girl now and am so happy that she is mine. And you know what? It is easy to see how much Millie has grown and changed physically since this was shot. But what really stands out to me is how much I have changed. For the better. And it is all thanks to Millie.

So thank you, Ashley, for letting me be a part of your project and giving me tangible evidence that I really have grown and that I truly love being a mom.

 

Ash Leishman is busy revamping her professional life so for now you can see more of here work here. And she did our family pictures here.

savor

I read this post from the Shutter Sisters today and thought it adequately describes what I am trying desperately to remember. Savoring the moments: the warmth, the love, the fun, the excitement of the holiday season... and really, just savoring life. Last weekend, on Thanksgiving, I was running around the house trying to get things clean. I love having a nice clean home to come home to after a little vacation but I was just stressing out. It was a blessing that we were going out of town, not only to see our family, but to force me into leaving that incessant list that I am forever adding to and so seldom checking off. It forced me to relax and enjoy. We were only gone for a couple of days but upon our return, I exerted much effort in keeping "relaxed Alicia" here. And it was well worth the effort. We slept and ate and played and watched movies and ate and played downtown. I tried not to worry about parking or walking or bothering other people with a baby who had "found her loud voice" as my friend put it. We went to a museum and saw the Christmas lights and ate at a cafe I have been thinking about for months. I tried to take small, slow bites of the lovely strawberry napolean and really let the flavors settle in my mouth. I held Billy's hand and we talked and enjoyed ourselves even though it was cold and crowded and hard to find a parking spot.

And you know what? In the end, we even had time to get somethings done. We finished putting up the new bookcases and put the Christmas decorations up and Billy fixed the vacuum and the computer.

It was worth it to savor the tastes and sights and sounds. I really should try it more often.

So here's to savoring the yummy little moments of life.

danke danke danke

I feel as though I should write something that I am grateful for. Not because of outside pressure but because I have so much. There are all the things that I am obviously grateful for (my Billy, my baby, my house, the Gospel) but there are so many small things that I feel so happy are in my life. So here is a list, off the top of my head:

our down comforter with a newly washed duvet

that feeling when I go outside to unplug our lights late at night and it is so cold and windy that, when I jump back inside our living room, I am immediately surrounded in warmth and comfort and safety

Steamers from 7-Eleven (I have yet to find a better one)

colorful walls

talented friends and people I don't even know personally who continute to inspire me

books to read and bookstores to peruse

savings

our sleeping garden

artwork that livens up our home

new bookshelves

a baby that crawls with her butt sticking up in the air

 the plants on our kitchen table

YOU, who read and support and make me feel that what I have to write and share is important to you

 

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

the golden sun

She delights in seeing everything that moves around her. She peers over my shoulder with a look of curiosity while we sit in the pews at church. She looks at the children, at their parents, at their toys, and at their books. If she could touch all that she sees, then she would be fulfilled. She crawls to the things she wants to get but shouldn't (glass bowls and electrical cords and the like).

When she sleeps, she tosses and turns, sometimes sleeping on her back while other times sleeping on her face with her little bum sticking up in the air. When she wakes up, she prattles away to herself, rehearsing stories that she will tell me as I come in to greet her. When I am too slow, she carefully and skillfully pulls her little body up to the side of the crib until she is standing. Though she has mastered the art of standing up, she is not so confident in her ability to sit back down. So she screams and cries until one of us rescues her. And if you are the one to do it, you are graced with a giggle and squeal and smile that leaves you wanting even more from that little child of ours.

(All these photos were taken by Billy, on a warm Sunday afternoon.)

of dolls and bicycles {We Are Women Blog}

When I am trying to figure out my thoughts or opinions, I seem to need to write essays to help me sort everything out. And although it seems to have taken me all summer to write a real essay for the We Are Women blog, I finally did it and learned something about myself in the process. It feels nice when I get something organized, especially when what I am organizing is this chaotic brain of mine.

I hope you go over and read it and tell us what your experience is.

Of Dolls and Bicycles

And in case you missed it, there have been other writers and quotes that have been posted since the last time I directed you over there, so look around and see what you've missed!

the rut

I tripped the other week and fell into a rut. It is probably not the biggest rut I have been stuck in but it seems pretty all encompassing.

My hair is in a rut. My hobbies are in ruts. My spirit has been in a rut.

When Millie was born,  I was in a bit of a funk. Not so extreme as to be serious but it took a couple of months and some visits with my doctor to get me back to being me again.

It was amazing the difference I felt.

In the last couple of weeks, though, Millie was so hungry all the time she was waking up when she had been sleeping peacefully. I fed her and took care of her. When the growth spurt was over, she was in the habit of waking up in the wee hours of the night. We moved her to her own room, a much more emotional experience for me than I would have expected, and let her cry it out. It was long and slow and very painful for my heart.

While taking care of this, I failed to see the rut in the road and fell face first. I find myself unable to pick my body up in the morning and go out to exercise with my friend. I take naps with Millie and we sleep for hours at a time. I want to get things done, but don't know where to start and, more often than not, never really do.

But give me a few good nights sleep, some time with Billy, and some creative outlets and I think I will be just fine.

 

finding me elsewhere today... again

I was laying in bed, sulking about current predicaments I am in and my lack of "something useful" to do, when I logged on, only to find my friend, Erin, who so kindly wrote that essay for me about motherhood, has kindly posted one of my essays... about pregnancy. (Surprised? Shouldn't be.) She did tell me which day she would post it but my silly little head seemed to have forgotten that today was the day. Head on over and check it out. Then have a look around her blog. She is a talented writer and photographer. And her daughter is so cute you just want to eat her up.

Would you like to know how we met? Erin and I used to work on the Utah State University campus mowing lawns and trimming trees for a summer. She taught me how to trim the trees the right way and we came away with some killer farmer tans. Good times. Good times.

Happy reading!

yesterday, today, and tomorrow

Yesterday, three people asked me if the baby was coming this week.

I smiled and said no.

Five more weeks.

I am surprised at how bad it made me feel.

Yesterday Billy retaught me to drive a stick shift.

I was not so nice to him.

He was patient.

Somehow we survived it and he still loves me.

Yesterday Billy bought me a book light.

It made me smile.

Today I did things that I have been putting off.

Unfortunately, they are more complicated than I would like.

So no checking them off the list yet.

I dislike that.

Today I tried to do yoga again.

I hope to love it one day.

Today I cleaned the bathrooms.

My body hurts now.

But my shower is clean.

Tomorrow I want to be productive.

Yet I am not sure what I am going to do.

Not a good way to start out, eh?

Tomorrow is another doctor’s appointment.

I think I will ask her what one does when they go into labor.

It would be good to know.

Tomorrow I want to write.

Hopefully it will be interesting.

It's been a while, no?

movements

I sit alone on the couch reading, with music playing softly in the background. Feeling the child demand attention from her mother, I slowly put the book down. Pulling my shirt up enough to see my tummy, I sit as still as I can. My breathing slows. The only movements are those of the child who is part me, part Billy, and part herself.

Her motions are spastic at times, jumping and squirming, stretching, then hiding within the confines of my body. At other times her movements are graceful; gently gliding across my stretched skin. It feels as though she is twirling around in a playful way or gliding her hands across my tummy. I follow her wanderings with the tips of my fingers, pushing back as gently as I can. In my imagination she is smiling at me as I mirror her tiny movements, enjoying the connection that is hers and mine alone.

I imagine her after she is born, moving gently as she sleeps. She rubs her eyes, discovering her hands and fingers for the first time. She looks at me and Billy, studying our faces, then curls up in my arms. With slight stirrings, she drifts in and out of sleep.

My memory turns to the first time I felt those fluttering movements. Oh how I cried from gratitude for the life that was growing within me, finally giving me a little nudge, letting me know she was grateful for the sacrifices we had already made to bring her into our family.

And then I am back, sitting on the couch, watching as the movements slow, as she drifts into sleep once more. Smiling to myself, I pull my shirt back into place and pick up my book.

And I wait, until she stirs again.