Loving oneself

I've been inspired recently.

It seems that there is this movement going on of learning to love oneself. From the Dove Real Beauty Sketches, to the Australian mom who's picture showing her fit "before" and softer "after" picture went viral, to the beautiful, inspirational 4th trimester bodies project, plus other incidental, smaller scale articles that have popped onto my Facebook feed, it seems to be all around me. But what really sealed the deal was the other day when this article was shared by a long ago co-worker.
The author talks about beauty in other cultures:

"It is all simply perspective. I learned that beauty in other cultures differs significantly to our western views. In Tonga, the more of the woman the better; in Tahiti, body hair and natural, puffy nipples are desired; women from a tribe in Ethiopia have their bodies scarred from birth to be more attractive to their future husbands. In France, underarm hair is considered sexy, and in Northern Thailand, long necks are admired."

I feel more comfortable in my body after having Eames than I ever have, and I want to keep it that way. I have decided to really, truly commit myself to speaking lovingly to myself, about myself, and to do all that I can to stop focusing on what the culture I was raised in has deemed beautiful and desirable. 

I have stretch marks, a soft back, a thicker waist, and wider hips than I did before (let's not even TALK about my boobs). The old me would have been extremely concerned about all of these things, but I have decided to refuse to let it get me down. Because I am also healthy, and I am strong, both physically and mentally. I want to eat well because my body deserves it, not because I'm concerned about being judged at the swimming pool* or not having one little bit of fat hang over my pants at any given moment*. I want to exercise because it makes me feel strong and powerful, not because I "have to" in order to get a tighter tush*. I want to get out of the shower and smile at myself when I look in the mirror. The biggest one, that is definitely going to take the MOST work, is allowing myself to be photographed without stressing about how fat/thin I may look depending on the angle*. Because whatever that camera captures, is ME. And when it comes down to it, I really do love me, inside and out. Even if sometimes I forget it. 

In order for someone to love themselves, I do believe they need to be taking care of themselves. For some, maybe that's a vegan and yoga lifestyle. For others, an all-over-the-world diet along with a hike-every-mountain mentality. And even others, an "I want to be as strong as a freight train" attitude in the gym (because feeling strong physically helps them feel strong mentally) with a guilt free indulgence every Saturday night might work for them. There are many ways to eat healthily and to take care of yourself physically WITHOUT getting caught up in the appearances of it all, you just need to find it. Find the exercise that feels good to you, that makes you feel better about yourself and that truly releases your endorphins, then fill the rest of your life with things that help you realize what life is really about.

Hiking a mountain seems to give me the best perspective more than anything else out there. It reminds me just how beautiful the Earth is, how simple life can and should be, how grateful I am to God and all of His creations, and that, in the end, there are just so many damn things that are more important than if I have a six pack or not.

{*all concerns that once plagued me} 

Birth Story, part two-Eames

Part one, here.

The version was scheduled for 10:00 that morning. Though my midwife had told me to come at 7:00, apparently the nurses weren't expecting me until 9:00. It wasn't a big deal though, we just got in some extra monitoring time, and played some Uno :)

So, the doctor. He has a somewhat complicated last name, so everyone calls him Dr Tom. My midwife had scheduled everything around his schedule; she told me that he was extremely good at what he did, especially concerning ECV's and cesareans, but still had an attitude that would be very complimentary to my "as little intervention as possible" wishes. It boosted my confidence to have him on my side!
Now, my midwife. So, as I mentioned, I actually saw a team of midwives during my prenatal care. All of them were wonderful, but I had a favorite: Pat. Pat is Irish, and so motherly and wonderful. I had hoped my whole pregnancy that I could deliver with her. Well, guess who was starting a 36 hour shift that very morning?! I was so thrilled to have her. That also made me feel hopeful, no matter what happened.

10:00 finally came, and baby's stats were all double checked, as well as positioning (yep, still breech!). I used my Hypnobabies to help me relax during the procedure, which everyone insisted afterward was a major contributor to the outcome. I'm assuming it took about 30-40 minutes, but the only thing I have to base that on is that once they succeeded (yay!!!) my water was broken to keep the baby head down, and that happened right around 11:00. It turned out I had had a few contractions during the procedure, small ones but definitely contractions! That was exciting to me, that my body was doing SOMETHING on its own, which would hopefully mean a better response to the induction-I really didn't want to start at nothing! Then, when they checked my cervix, I was somewhat dilated and effaced. I honestly don't remember the exact numbers, maybe something like a 3 and 50%? Enough to know that something was happening, but not enough to really say I was necessarily on my way.
I had to stay on the monitors for a few hours to make sure that the baby was "tolerating the procedure", as sometimes ECV's may lead to distress. I apparently continued having contractions during this time, but for the most part I wasn't even aware of them happening. I listened to a few hypno-tracks to help me stay relaxed, and that also enabled me to take a small nap. At 2:00, I was finally given the okay to get out of bed, but would only have an hour because we were to start pitocin at 3:00 (which would mean constant monitoring). Me and my doula (who is also named Tiffany!) spent that entire hour power walking through the L&D ward. Which, by the way, only consisted of 2 hallways shaped like a T, so I'm sure we looked kinda loony passing the nurses station every 15 seconds! But I wanted to make the most out of my freedom of movement, as well as do all that I could to help my body progress naturally.
So at maybe a quarter past 3:00, the pitocin was started. Then, honestly, the next 12 hours were pretty consistent as far as contents goes! But these are the 3 main reasons I made it through:
1. Evan and Tiffany. Evan's love, and Tiffany's skills. You guys, I could NOT have done this without my doula. No way. I am so incredibly grateful for her-words cannot convey how huge of a role she played.
2. Counter pressure on my hips. Because although we got the little babe head down, he wasn't FACE down. My sunny side up baby=100% back labor. Not one contraction in front.
3. This goes back to Tiffany as well, since she's the one that helped direct me to do this and reminded me throughout to continue it, but "ohhh"-ing through each contraction. Low tone, and as if I was saying the word "open" (which I did end up saying a lot toward the end, because it helped me visualize myself opening up, and helped me make sure I was keeping that low tone.)
So, by 8:00, I was definitely ready for a nap. That's when I had all of those thoughts that I honestly (naively) thought I wouldn't have: "I'm never having a baby again"  "This will NEVER END!" "How did I think I could do this?" I told my doula I just wanted to take a break...I'd come back to it later! I was actually able to relax really deeply between contractions, nearly falling asleep! But in some ways that just bugged me even more-imagine being about to drift away to the sweet relief that sleep offers, then being woken up by a CONTRACTION...every 5 minutes or less...for 12 hours. Pretty annoying, lol! I never did ask for, or even want an epidural, but not because I wouldn't have appreciated some relief-it was that I knew full well there was NO WAY I was willing to sit still long enough to get one! No way. Every time I had to get a cervical exam, I just wanted to cry, because I hated having to sit/lay still. Anyway, it was around that 8:00 hour that I felt most discouraged. I knew I wasn't anywhere near the end, and felt overwhelmed with the idea of continuing this for hours. Tiffany said wonderful things that encouraged and reassured me, and soon I realized I just had to make a mental switch if I was going to do this. And I WAS going to do this, because I frankly had no choice, so I might as well make it easier in myself by switching my mindset! I started noticing that if I could just make it to the 3rd breath during a contraction, (out of the 5-6 I'd take) I'd be past the worst of it. So I tried taking it just one contraction at a time, just focusing on getting to that 3rd breath. That felt MUCH more doable than thinking of another 7 hours of contractions (boy, am I glad I had no idea I still had that long! Probably would have put a damper on my mental strength ;))
So that pretty much was how I spent my time until sometime near the 3:00 hour the next morning. Isn't time during labor so strange? I had absolutely no concept of it-besides feeling like there was too much between where I was, and where it all would end! But when Evan and Tiffany told me we were hitting midnight, and our baby would actually be born the 20th, I thought it was so strange how much time had passed! Anyway, eventually I felt the urge to push, but was still only at an 8 and therefore had to ignore that instinct. That. Was. AWFUL! It felt so much better to push with the contractions. Then, when I was finally given the go-ahead to push, nothing much happened, so I had coached pushing, which then lasted two hours! That whole situation was definitely the worst, because I felt so unproductive. Eames' head was visible for a large portion of that time, but any progress I made reversed as soon as I stopped pushing. When I did finally delivered his head, it wasn't because I magically got more strength or anything. It just seemed to finally work-but Tiffany has a theory that I think makes sense:
Apparently he did come out face down, despite my back labor. She thinks that he was sunny side up, but twisted head down in the birth canal, which would help explain the cord that was wrapped so tightly around his neck, and would mean there was less cord to work with for me to get him out. She hypothesizes that my placenta finally detached, which allowed me more give to finally get him out.
Whatever ended up happening, it was so wonderful that it finally did after so much time passing of feeling like a failure who didn't know how to push her baby out!
As I said, his cord was wrapped incredibly tight around his neck, tight enough that Pat immediately cut it. I pushed the rest of him out, and he was pretty much immediately taken to that little table where they worked to get him breathing. I knew things were a little more severe than normal, because I had asked for delayed cord clamping + immediate skin to skin, and there was no way Pat would disregard that without valid reason. Evan went to be with Eames (though we didn't know he was an "Eames" yet...Tiffany was actually the one to remind Evan to go check the gender!) while I was stitched up (minor tearing). It was about 10 minutes before he was brought to me, all bundled with his cap on.

He looked EXACTLY like Evan to me. He looked straight into my eyes while I held and talked to him, but it was so short lived-less than 5 minutes-before they took him to the NICU for some monitoring. 

I thought it would be an hour or so. Then it was a few hours. Then, a neonatologist came in to talk to both me and Evan, and we were informed they were concerned about something called perinatal asphyxia. They wanted to run some tests, but they weren't available at our location and Eames would be transferred to a different location an hour away. Evan and I got to go see him in the NICU for about 10 minutes, then he left shortly after because the main test they wanted to do needed to be done within 6 hours of birth, and it had already been a few hours. 

Now I'll just state facts: Eames passed all tests beautifully, and all original concerns were eventually disregarded. He was born on a Wednesday, I was discharged Friday and we immediately went to see him. We got a hotel for the weekend so we could spend as much time as possible with him. He was discharged that Sunday. 

I can't yet write about my feelings of those first few days. Even though he's home, two weeks old and perfectly healthy, it's still too painful. Even when I just think to myself, it makes me sob, so I try to focus on the now-he's beautiful, healthy, and I am beyond grateful to have him home with us. Maybe someday I'll be able to elaborate...perhaps when my hormones are a bit more regulated? :)

As far as feelings toward the birth, I feel very proud of what my body was able to accomplish! But if next time, I could just not have pitocin induced back labor...that'd be awesome! ;) I'll take either one without the other if I have to! Really though, at this point I'm thinking, if I can have a regular, natural progressing labor...   I will be so ready to handle that! 

Here is my beautiful son, Eames Kenneth Nay

Born Aug 20, 5:05 am

7 lb 9 oz, 20"

Birth Story, part one-background

 Wow. Here it is. My birth story.

I've been wondering for years now, what exactly my story would be.
Anyone close to me knows I've been somewhat obsessed with labor and delivery for a few years now. I started researching it after watching The Business of Being Born sometime in 2010.  I will say, that all of the knowledge that I'd obtained helped me feel SO excited, now that I finally had an actual birth to prepare for. I also started Hypnobabies around 30 weeks pregnant, thanks to the recommendation of a wonderful friend, and that boosted me to the point that I truly had no fear as I looked forward to my birthing day, which I think is a pretty remarkable thing for a first time mom! I was completely confident in my body, I understood pretty much all of the medical options I may be faced with, and I trusted that birth is a natural thing. Knowledge truly is power, and I'm so thankful I was able to spend my pregnancy filled with excitement rather than fear of the unknown that was to come. Even though things didn't end up at all ideal, I do not in anyway regret all of the effort I put into preparing myself for birth, nor do I think it was silly or naive of me to feel the way I did. I still do believe in my body, and that labor is a natural thing that is often over-medicalized.

I had wanted a homebirth for a long time, but with our insurance (Tricare) it was easier (not to mention, free) to go where they referred me to. I ended up being sent to a hospital with a team of midwives I could receive care from, so I settled with that. Interestingly, the hospital I was referred to is different than the one that nearly everyone else in my area gets referred to. I think of it as a thoughtful blessing, so that I could have the team of midwives that I did.

So, my pregnancy was, to be honest, nothing short of amazing in my opinion. I didn't have any major issues, or even minor ones, really. Besides my extreme food aversions in the first trimester, I can't think of anything to complain about.

At 33 weeks, we had our growth scan ultrasound done, and everything looked perfect. Baby Nay continued to be extremely active, and even kicked at the tech's ultrasound wand! He hated things on
my belly. It was at my almost-37 week appt, my midwife put her hands on my belly and we learned that this crazy mover of ours had turned himself breech. Though it was a bit of a shock, I left that appt somewhat optimistic, feeling that I still had a few weeks to get this baby to turn. I dutifully spent the next few weeks doing handstands in the pool, pelvic tilts during entire movies, cat/cow positions, ice packs on my belly, inversions, hypnosis targeted to encourage the baby to turn, and even went to a chiropractor! I became even more desperate with these things after my next appt, where we talked about how if the baby didn't turn by the time I came in next, we had to make a plan. And that plan may involve a c-section. I left that appt emotionally crushed at how real the prospect was of my completely losing out on the birth experience I'd been dreaming of, and preparing so hard for. I couldn't help seeing the irony of feeling so prepared for birth, yet may not even get to go
through labor. I eventually did come to a place mentally where I was able to accept whatever came my way, but I let myself mourn that weekend. Please understand, this birth I was looking forward to wasn't about control, It wasn't about proving myself to anybody, It wasn't about things being perfect and according to MY plan. I was genuinely excited to go into labor! I was excited to experience the natural progression of labor, and to deliver my baby. And before learning that the baby was breech, I had had every reason in the world to assume I'd have that opportunity. So when I learned that I may not get ANY of that, I was pretty heartbroken, even though I knew that technically everything would be okay in the end. But I needed to let myself just feel the way I felt, no matter how ridiculous it seemed. So, I let myself feel the sad things, without immediately reminding myself of the positive things (I'd had a great pregnancy, I was still healthy, the baby was healthy, I'd be a great VBAC candidate someday, etc). I started spending time reading positive stories about successful ECV's, (external cephalic version) a procedure to try to manually turn the baby by pressing the stomach. We were going to attempt an ECV, and the rest would depend on if it was successful or not. I decided to focus my energy on imagining a successful version, while still keeping my mind open to the fact that whatever happened would be okay. I continued using Hypnobabies, there is a track called "fear release" that I listened to everyday to try to rid myself of the anxiety I had been feeling. Because really, I just wanted to be able to continue looking at this birth as a joyous thing. Birth should be joyous! It's such an incredible thing, the moment a human is brought into the world, and it's beautiful no matter how it ends up happening.
At my next appointment, we planned a day. Tuesday, August 19th, at 39 weeks*, I would go to the hospital for my ECV. If we succeeded at turning the baby, I would then be induced to ensure the baby was head down when I went into labor (the doctor and midwife didn't want to give the baby a chance to turn back). If it was unsuccessful, we would do the cesarean that day because 1) I'd inevitably have one anyway, and 2) they didn't want me going into actual labor with a breech baby.
This plan was made 5 days beforehand, and officially confirmed 2 days beforehand. We went from thinking I may have a September baby (since so many 1st time moms go overdue) to "actually let's just have a baby now". It was quite the head trip! I asked Evan for a blessing that Sunday, and it was extremely reassuring. I love priesthood blessings!
We spent Monday doing some shopping (a last Costco trip, and a few more onesies). We went swimming. We were surprisingly calm! I took a nap that afternoon, then went with a friend to a yoga session at our local community center that evening. It was such a great way to spend my last night-it cleared my mind, relaxed me, and made me feel so strong and proud of my body. I felt so at peace about everything. Afterward, my friend and I went on a walk around the neighborhood. It was the perfect summer night weather, and that just added to the peace that I felt.
I got home around 9:30, Evan was already asleep (I knew he would be-his sleep schedule is weird since he works nights, so he was trying to sneak any sleep in that he could) and I tried to sleep as well. I think I succeeded until about 2 am, then it was nearly impossible! Evan woke up during the early morning as well. We finished some packing, Evan filled the car with gas. I took a bath to try to at least keep myself relaxed, then laid down again to just rest. We were supposed to be at the hospital at 7:00-we were ready by about a quarter to 6:00! (It takes maybe 25 minutes to get there). Our doula was originally going to meet us at our house and follow us there, but we were too antsy to wait and ended up meeting her at the hospital.

I will follow up with the actual labor and recovery!
Stay tuned for part two.


*so, my original due date was August 25. At my first appt, they said August 30th looked like it was more accurate based on growth. So, I took that to mean "August 30th is now your due date", but the hospital neglected to tell me that they only adjust the date for their records if it's a 10 or more day difference. So, I tracked everything based on the 30th, but the hospital tracked it based on the 25th. That's why there's a slight discrepancy with my weekly bump pictures and me being 39w2d on the 19th.

a re-introduction + thoughts on becoming a mother

Quite obviously, I have not blogged regularly for a long, long time. I had the intentions to once again about a year and a half ago, but that was extremely short lived. Anytime I want to write an entry, I somehow end up convincing myself not to. There are a few reasons, but the internal struggle that always surfaces is: do I really want to share my life online in that way? Which is somewhat funny, because there are quite a few people who I know and keep up with via Facebook statuses and Instagram photos, but I remain disappointed that they don't have a blog, because I want to see into their lives more! Not in a creepy way (though I do come off as creepy sometimes...often...sorry about that) but because these are people I no longer can sit and chat with, but whom I respect and admire and would love to hear their thoughts and opinions and tidbits of what their daily life is like. Of course, I am thoroughly convinced that there is no one who feels that way about me and my life (don't we all feel somewhat small and insignificant at times?) so I therefore talk myself out of going through with whatever blog post I had been considering writing. With that said, I can honestly say I don't know how often I'll write on here. I don't want to use a blog to share my daily living, and I don't necessarily have a special interest that I long to share with others. What I've most often used this blog for, and what I'll most likely continue to use it for (when I do use it) is to share thoughts and feelings about topics that are heavy on my mind. The catch is, sometimes the thoughts are so personal that while I do think others may benefit from them, I hesitate to "put it all out there" because I don't want to deal with the anxiety of wondering if I explained myself well enough to convey these thoughts and feelings that are so close to my heart.  A few years ago, I was very outspoken about my thoughts on so many different things-just go for a stroll down past-blogpost-lane and you will see! But that has changed. I still feel very passionately about many things, many of which are the same things I once stood on my soap box about, but I've learned, in a not so comfortable way, that when I talk about these things it comes off much differently than what I intend it to. So I have slowly kept things more to myself, trying hard to only give my views when specifically asked.

This is a very long introduction to what and why I am writing today, but I feel that after such a long absence it's necessary! The reason I am using this blog once again is because of the many thoughts and feelings I've had, and surely will continue to have, about pregnancy and motherhood. Finally becoming pregnant has been...simply put, incredible.  It feels surreal. I've seen so, so many friends and family members become pregnant and have children, and the process has always been so normal and has never been hard to accept. But to finally be going through it myself, I can hardly believe it's true. At only 16 weeks, I have yet to feel any movement and am at the stage of baby bump that is still quite questionable to strangers, so it is still very much an abstract idea that I have life growing inside of me, and that one of the most drastic, life changing events that I will encounter is only months away.
Babies are adorable, amazing little people. I enjoy children's imagination and naivety. I've provided care as a sibling, babysitter and nanny for the majority of my life to many different kids. I am a nurturing person by nature; I love taking care of any and all people. It is something I absolutely enjoy doing, and I think that helped as I watched over children. However, I really am not the type of person who "loves babies" or "loves children"-let me explain that. I know many people who the moment they see a baby, they want to hold it. Or others who love the opportunity to play games or sports with kids, no matter who the kid is. I've never fit into either category. I enjoy babies and children the same way I enjoy adults-I believe they all deserve love and respect, no matter who they are, and I try my very best to show that love and respect. But there are some that I get on with better than others, some who's company I prefer over another. The reason I'm even explaining this is so I can explain my thoughts concerning my (future) children. I recognize that no matter how much I love a best friends child, or thrive on any and all things that my nieces and nephews do, it is not the same as it will be when I have my own child. I have always recognized that, I feel that way even now because I already do feel love for my children...I don't know if others have felt this way, I've never had a discussion with someone where said they felt the exact same way-but since the day I went through the temple, which was the day before I got married to Evan, my children have been on my mind. Not just the idea of children, but MY children. Ever since I got that glimpse into eternity, and was able to somewhat wrap my head around what those sealing powers mean, I have felt that there are very specific spirits up there waiting for me. I realized later that in my patriarchal blessing it even uses the phrase "choice spirit children". I feel like they're already a part of our eternal family, even if they haven't arrived yet.
 I wrote a journal entry nearly 5 years ago about how excited I was to meet my children, even though I knew I'd have to wait. [Evan and I got married at 19, and though many people have children at that age, it was clear to us that that time for OUR family was not yet upon us] I've even prayed that they'd know that I love them and can't wait to meet them! With them being so present in my thoughts for so many years, it's hard to imagine that the time is finally coming that I will get to start meeting them. It is so overwhelming and awe-inspiring to me that I have this opportunity.
I'm thankful I've been able to accept the Lord's timing on this, because this is occurring a few years later than I'd originally anticipated. I've made it a point in my heart and mind to try to trust Him that one day I would have what I've so desperately desired, even when it didn't make sense at the time what the hold up was. (For the record, I can definitely say that His timing is much better than what mine would have been.)
I have yearned to be a mother for years now. Not just to have a baby, but to be a mother, to accept that title for all of eternity-because I don't only imagine having an infant. Its one big timeline to me-as I've dreamt of having children, I've imagined all different stages of their lives. I want the whole thing! I know, I promise I know, that whatever I imagine is so completely different than what the reality will be, but I am so, so beyond ready to accept this change in my life, to let my whole existence be completely altered. I know that the future holds so many things that I can't even fathom, but I suppose that's true for anybody. I trust God, and I trust that He will always be there to help me. That gives me such comfort and the faith to be able to look forward with joy and anticipation, regardless of the trials that lie ahead. I truly believe that becoming a parent is a blessing that God has given His children, one that He promises to all who are faithful (whether this life or the next) and because of that He surely will be there to help guide us through a most trying journey. This knowledge takes away what would be, for me, an overwhelming fear of parenthood, because I know I can always receive guidance to help me do all that I can.