For 2018

I feel like a stranger here. It's been a little while.

I was excited to sit and pray, think, and plan for this next year, but two sick and teething babies and a few sick days of my own have me just now getting a chance to reflect and think about 2018.

A couple years ago I swapped resolutions out for goals. It seemed a better fit. 

This year is different. "Goals" doesn't seem the right term either. Goals don't always allow for life. Sure, some might say life happens and you have to work around it to reach those goals, but sometimes... well, I'm just going to have to disagree with that.

Last year was difficult. Like, really difficult. Someday I think I'll share about it, but it's not time yet, so I'm just going to be that annoyingly vague person and say that the last year has really changed and shaped my life and what I want for this next year.

This morning, while watching the pre-sunrise blizzard, I wrote down a list of what I wanted this year to look like, and one common word popped up in each part.

More.

This year I want more reading, more learning, more healthy living, more creating, more trying, more affirming, more loving, more giving, more laughing, more praying.

I set a decent book goal for 2017 and failed miserably in numbers, but I did develop a dedication to reading my Bible daily. This year I want to continue reading and digging into the Word to learn from and about God and continue to read about relationships, growth, and love. I want to learn more about my husband, my girls, and myself. I'm also excited to get back into some fiction- I never would have thought I'd switch to solely non-fiction for an entire year!

The importance of self-care was new to me last year, but I understand how crucial it is for me to get my me-time now. Working out, reading, quiet time, getting out of the apartment on my own, creative time- it's not selfish, it's necessary for me to function to the best of my ability as a wife and mom. I want to create more. I feel incredibly rusty and stale. More writing, journaling, sketching, painting, and making our home into a sanctuary. 

I want to love more. I want to know the love languages of those dear to me, so that I can better show them. People poured their lives into mine this year, so I hope to be able to give more time, help, listening, encouragement- more of myself to them. I want to learn to fill Jered's love tank with the affirmations he needs and desires to hear. I want to fill my girls with positive and loving words, thoughts, and beliefs. I want to be a loving, encouraging friend.

Growth means trying, so I want to try new things. Try new recipes, new workouts, new experiences, new date ideas, new art techniques. I never used to be a fan of change, but I feel like I've learned to embrace it recently. It can truly be the best thing.

I spent too much time crying last year. I've been noticing more wrinkles around my mouth and eyes, and thought it was weird that I was getting smile wrinkles, and then I realized they were from my crying face. I want more laughter this year. I want to have more fun, silliness, and joy with my family this year. If I'm going to wrinkle, it had better be from laughing.

Prayer changed our lives in big ways this year. I want to continue to live in prayer- not just meet God when I need something. I want to be the friend that people know they can go to when they need prayer- to pray with and for them. I want prayer and our faith to continue to be the rock in our marriage.

It sounds weird to say that all I want for this year is "more," but that's what it boils down to, isn't it? So here's to more for 2018.

Momfession Time

Well, it's been three months, but I'm back!

This parenting gig has totally changed in the last few months. And while I would never change our decision to have our second so close to our first, it. is. hard.

I don't want to complain too much, but I do want to share beyond the highlight reel.

It doesn't help that Jered has added two full work days to his three, twelve hours shifts each week. It makes for many hours of just me and the girls, which gets tiring. I signed up for this! I want to stay home with them; I wouldn't have it any other way, but staying home is also much more difficult than I thought it'd be.

I've found that it's a struggle not to contribute much to our family's finances. Jered doesn't mind- he wants me to be with the girls as much as I do, but I've found that it grates on me. It's part of the reason I started coaching.

Anyway, if you've read this blog for a while, you may remember that when I first realized I struggled with pride, it took me a little by surprise. Well, it has struck again.

The first time around, I was shocked that I felt as at ease with Evelyn as I did. It felt more natural than I thought it would. I was, and am, no pro, but the first time was much easier than I expected it to be. Looking back, I felt like I was pretty good at momming. 

I felt surprisingly strong and capable. I felt a sense of pride in going to the store with Evelyn and choosing a back parking space to get more walking done. I felt like I was able to do what other people did with a kid on my hip!

This time... oh, this time... I feel like I cannot get around the learning curve of having two kids. I feel overwhelmed much of the time and have described it to Jered as, "drowning." I've been forced to rely much more on help from people than I used to because my hands are literally full. I have visited my parents for a few days, largely because I just needed help.

I feel guilty for not giving Leyla as much attention because Evelyn is much more demanding of it. While Evelyn was sick, Leyla was such an angel; she just played on her mat or sat in her bouncy chair the whole time. Now that she's sick, she is extra clingy, wanting only to be nuzzled into my shoulder 24/7, and Evelyn is far less understanding. 

The problem with being a stay-at-home mom is that you're never away from work. You don't get time off. Even if Jered tells me to relax- even if the girls are both, miraculously, asleep- I wrestle with the choice of cleaning, working out, cooking, having a quiet time, or holding a sleeping baby because they don't keep.

My alone time away from home is generally spent grocery shopping, so even my alone time is part of my job. Jered has been good enough to try to get me a few extra hours out every week for me to go watch coaching videos or plan challenge groups.

I'll tell you what- this parenting thing is not for the faint of heart, and I've been feeling the need to be refreshed. I honestly think that if it weren't for working out every day- getting a good sweat and endorphins going, that I would be unable to cope.

With all of that being said, I can see why people always say they never knew part of their family was missing until the child arrived. I am absolutely smitten with these two. They are worth the hard work.

To every overwhelmed mama out there, wondering if you're doing alright, I feel ya. We can do it, ladies.

Two

We have two girls.

I so clearly remember my delight in realizing we had one. And now we have two beautiful daughters.

For as long as I can remember, when thinking about my future children, I always pictured two girls. Jered looked at me shortly after Leyla was born and said, "You got your dream." And I had.

It's precious. And heartbreaking. Evelyn loves her. The first thing she says after waking up is, "Ley-la? Le-le-le-la?" She rushes to our bedroom or the living room to look for her. Once she panicked when Leyla wasn't where she thought she'd be, so I had to assure her that her little sister was just in the other room.

It's heartbreaking because she wants so badly to love on her, but we're always telling her to "Be gentle. Watch your feet. Don't lean on her. Nice hands. Don't climb up by her right now! Watch her head!" Poor thing- always getting scolded just for trying to give love to her baby.

She kisses Leyla whenever she can. Runs over to give her tiny sleeping hands fist-bumps. Pats her bottom. Tries to share snacks with her.

[This was taken right after she got up from a nap. She ran into the living room, got down next to her, and just stared at her.]

But she also steals her pacifier all the time- sometimes roughly grabbing it right out of her mouth and scratching her face in the process. And she rips blankets off of her while she's sleeping after being repeatedly warned not to bother her.

I was worried about jealousy, but so far that doesn't seem to be an issue. I suspect there is some feeling left out done on her part, so I try my best to involve her and guide her in showing love gently. We gave her a new baby doll when we were in the hospital, so while I'm nursing Leyla, she gives Stella her bottle, burps her, gives her a paci, and rocks her to sleep. She's even brought me a diaper to put on Stella. It's a little adorable... until she carries her around by the hair.

I don't want to wish away the years because I love their ages right now, but I can't help but imagine the joy of watching them actively play together. I dream of them being best friends, sleeping in each other's rooms and listening to them talk and giggle until they fall asleep, and having always being there for each other.

 As for our current state, well, motherhood looks a little different than last time I wrote about it. At the moment I have a sleeping baby on my lap and a crying toddler in the crib who is telling me it's time to get out of bed.

Leyla's Birthday

"Had it."

That is the text Jered sent to my parents about half an hour after we left them at our apartment on Saturday morning.

Needless to say, some confusion and assumption of pure jest ensued, but the truth was that our second daughter had arrived in dramatic fashion.

Birth story time! Warning: lengthy post for a short story.

"Bey-bey," as Evelyn called it, was appearing to have a mind of his/her own as I experienced some early labor signs in the middle of the week before our due date. I finished packing up my hospital bag, did the quickest cleaning of our apartment ever, and waited. And waited. And waited.

Nothing happened, and spicy food, fresh pineapple, walks around Target, bouncing on the exercise ball, the excitement of Game 7, and tempting fate with Jered going hunting all failed to put me into labor.

Then Jered came home from work last Thursday with what appeared to be the stomach flu, and I thought, "Great. Now I can't even wish to go into labor because this would be the worst timing." He spent half of Friday totally miserable, but I told him I bet he would feel better by that night when my parents arrived (they had planned on visiting a new baby by that time), and then I'd go into labor.

Mom and Dad got here around 10:15, we got Evelyn up for a little bit to play (we're rule breakers, we are), and I scolded my stomach some more, urging Baby to "GET OUT."

I woke up a little after 3 a.m. with a contraction that was finally painful. After a couple of them, I nudged Jered and told him it was starting for real. I think I stayed in bed for about half an hour and realized I wouldn't be going back to sleep, so I decided to take a shower and get myself ready.

I took my time and shaved my legs and started having some contractions that made me bend over. On my way back to my room, I passed Dad in the hall and told him I was just killing some time. Jered asked me how it was going, and I told him he should probably get up in about half an hour. To my surprise, he got up right then and showered.

It's a good thing he did. By the time he was done, I was kneeling or squatting through the contractions. We finished getting ready, said goodbye to Evelyn, and my dad prayed for us before we left. (I told him he could only do so if he hurried.)

 

[holding my breath through a contraction as I held our *only* child for the last time]

I gave Jered the OK to stop at the gas station for coffee and donuts again, asked him to get me some gum, and told him to hurry. (I'm not sure if he was really as hungry as he said, or if he was trying to be traditional- he also wore the same outfit he wore when Evelyn was born.) When he got back I told him to really hurry, but not to get pulled over or get a camera-issued ticket in my parents' van.

We got to the hospital in record time, and I had to sit on the same curb as last time to wait out a contraction. At the check in desk, I paced, wondered again why there is so much paperwork even after pre-registering, and also wondered again why the check in ladies don't seem to be in any rush.

Then things really started. (I will try to share without any traumatizing details for you.)

I had to squat and lean on the counter through another contraction, realized something felt different, started to stand up to find a bathroom, and my water broke. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground, telling Jered it was coming and that I couldn't move. Nurses were suddenly standing all around me, trying to get me into a wheelchair, but my body felt like it had locked up. Somehow they got me into the chair and rushed me down the hallway. 

I was mortified that I was doing it, but couldn't help yelling in pain the whole way. I couldn't control my breathing enough to get the words, "but I wanted the drugs" out. All I could think was, "No, this can't happen- I can't do this without the epidural! This can't be happening!" They got me onto the bed, and I think they still didn't realize how serious I was about the fact that it was coming. I don't remember what they wanted to do- get me into a gown maybe- but I said again, "It's coming now!" 

They got me partially undressed, I heard someone ask if the doctor was almost there, and someone else said it didn't matter because the head was "right there." Jered was rushed up to my side, and I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE. I don't know how women do the natural thing, guys. It was terrifying. It almost makes me cry just remembering it. I just remember yelling alot more than I ever thought I would, and that I must be disturbing all the people on the floor. I also remember feeling like Jered was scolding me for not slowing down my breathing. (And he thinks I take things too personally. Ha)

Jered said I pushed twice, and she was there. I've heard people say they don't like epidurals because it makes you foggy, and you aren't as present after the baby comes, but I'm telling you, I think the shock of doing that naturally made me foggier than an epidural. I remember it barely registering when they said it was a girl and placed her on my chest, and then I wanted Jered to take her because I didn't trust my arms to work because I was so shaky.

It was the most intense, terrifying thing I'd ever done. And I know so many women don't have a choice and so many choose to do it that way, but I never had any desire to go the natural route, and I certainly never thought I might come close to having a baby anywhere but on a hospital bed. 

Anyway, start to finish, the whole thing took about two and a half hours. I woke up around 3:00, Dad says I passed him in the hall at 4:15, we left around 5:00, and Leyla Jolie was born at 5:31. 

I'll save the later details and talking about our two girls for another time because this is already long. Suffice it to say we are in love, and the fact that we now have two beautiful daughters is still surreal. 

Season of Faith

I came across a prayer a few weeks ago, and a line from it has stayed with me ever since, changing the way I view life.

"Let not faith cease from seeking thee until it vanishes into sight."

Faith will vanish into sight. The need for faith will cease to exist.

Cue my mind being blown.

This prayer, from Arthur Bennett's The Valley of Vision, was in an eight week devotional study I just finished, and throughout the book, I found myself learning that I carry around way more anxiety about worldly problems than I realized. 

In fact, my worries seemed to intensify as I went through the study. The whole time I kept wondering what I was doing wrong. Why wasn't I able to trust that everything would resolve in time? Why couldn't I relax and know that God was in control? Why was I stressing out even more after reading and rereading about trusting in God?

Each week, although focusing on different aspects and steps to intimacy with God, at some point circled back to the fact that the valley, the hard parts, the shadowy place, is where we do our growing. It is where our faith is grown, our hearts and souls, developed.

So, I suppose I've just been going through a growth spurt of sorts. It has been hard. And stressful. But it is for a season, and something I've been taught is that we must enjoy the season because it is short in the scope of eternity.

My entire life will be a season of faith. Someday that season will be over, and I will be granted sight in its place. For now, I will do my best to embrace the necessity of faith, to use the time to get to know God's character better, to develop my heart and soul.

***

On a slightly different note, I'm beyond ready for this season of pregnancy to come to an end. Everything is harder when you have what feels like a bowling ball in your middle. At least I have this goofy girl around to keep me laughing:

43 Days

All over the place today- hang on.

Can I have a whiny pregnant lady moment? Just real quick, and then I'll move on.

Is it time yet?? I absolutely don't want to rush my alone time with my girl, or our three-person family, or time in general, but I'm tired of being pregnant. I'm tired of sharing my bladder with a squirmy baby, not being able to lie on my back, being so tired but unable to sleep because it's too uncomfortable, not being able to breathe, the sweating, the contractions. So many contractions. We're down to 43 days, but who's counting?

Ok, I'm done. Promise. Go ahead and finish cooking, babe.

That girl- she is stinkin' hilarious right now. She has been incredibly excitable the last couple days and will just be totally wired for an hour at a time. Laughing, dancing, and acting a goof. And she is all over the place. Climbing everywhere. She can get up on the couch now, so there's really no stopping her. Last week, Jered was still in bed and heard some rustling. He rolled over, and there she was, sitting right next to him, just grinning away.

She has also, I think, officially begun transitioning to a single nap a day schedule, but somehow missed the memo that if she's only taking one, it needs to increase in length.  One hour nap a day is simply not going to cut it for me.

Sweet thing chipped a tooth at some point. (Before the mouth gushing blood incident of last week.) It's one of her top teeth, so we rarely see it. She has developed a dashing mullet as well. Even so, she sure is the prettiest thing I've ever seen.

Oh, you're wondering how my nesting is going? Not great.

I mean, I've purged two large diaper boxes full of books we don't need to keep anymore. Well, almost- they're ready to go to Half Priced Books to make us a couple bucks, I hope. I also got Jered to finally dump somewhere around 20 to 30 old textbooks that have no use or ability to resell.

New paintings for our dining are about half done. (Just waiting on a decent nap to finish those!)

Katie is coming this weekend to help me with some cleaning, organizing, and possibly a few projects, so that will be awesome.

Apparently my third trimesters are fraught with intense cravings, particularly a sweet tooth. Give me all the chocolate, all the time. I would love to bake something right now, but I didn't make it to the grocery store today, and we have no eggs.

We went sans dishwasher almost all summer. Huge pain. Huge. Maybe if I didn't have a toddler demanding attention, or limited, precious nap times to get as much done as possible, I wouldn't mind. But I do. Jered called our maintenance man and it got fixed a couple weeks ago, and the angels sang. Until yesterday when it started doing the same thing all over again. Womp, womp.

Speaking of Jered, a few days ago I went to lie down for a minute while Evelyn was napping, and Jered came in to see what I was doing. I warned him that I felt like I was about to cry and had no real reason to, other than being tired and not feeling great. He laughed (nicely!), and I promptly burst into tears. He brought me a blanket and told me to take a nap. He's a keeper.

We went to the Peoria Blues and Heritage Music Festival a couple weeks ago for Jered's birthday present. Jered loved it, which I loved. I was mostly excited about fair food and sitting (so, so glad we brought chairs) and listening to some good bands/artists. It proved to be a great time for me to use my art journal- so much to sketch!

We saw Buddy Guy perform, which is a pretty big deal. We were right up front, and Jered caught one of his guitar picks. I hosted an inner dialogue over the battle of the age groups that went on during the O.A.R. concert right before Buddy Guy, where a group of younger people came in and stood directly in front of all of us who had been sitting and waiting for Buddy Guy all day. Each had a right to be there. I think if the older people had known they weren't staying beyond the O.A.R. concert, they wouldn't have cared so much. Brawls were a-brewin', I tell you!

It was also the first time Evelyn spent the night away from both of us. She apparently had so much fun that she didn't miss us at all. I'm trying to remind myself that this is a blessing, and that I would have felt guilty and heartbroken had she been miserable while we were gone.

I actually had some personal revelations to talk about, but I'll save them for later since this has already been quite lengthy. 

Lata gata!

Momma-ish Worries

We have passed the 3/4 mark of this pregnancy. Woohoo! I keep thinking that I'm practically there, and the rest of the time will fly, but then I also remember that baby still has some massive growing to do in the next two months, and that is daunting.

I'm beginning to enter the panic stage. (That's a real thing, right? Not just me?) Surely every parent hits that at some point, no matter which pregnancy they're experiencing.

My mind is being overrun with thoughts of are we ready for this? Two under two- what were we thinking? I've never had a newborn in winter before; how am I going to lug around a highly bundled newborn and Evelyn, wear a winter coat myself, and get out to the car without having a heatstroke? Or without falling on ice? How am I going to do store runs with two? How will I catch Evie if she decides to climb up on her music table when I'm nursing a baby or otherwise tied up? How will I get anything done with two kids and two different sleep schedules? HOW?

And perhaps the most menacing of all: how am I going to snuggle that newborn and still have enough arms to hold and snuggle and love on my big girl? DID I GIVE HER ENOUGH TIME ON HER OWN?

See what I mean? Slow down and breathe, Aimee! This has been done by billions of women, billions of times. And I'm a living testament that firstborns can turn out ok. 

But in all seriousness, I'm still terrified by how much I love her. LIKE IT HURTS. When I think about how much my heart is wrapped around that little girl, it hurts. How can I do it again? Won't my heart just rip open? I don't see how it can withstand more love.

We watched an episode of Grey's recently where Maggie asks Meredith how she does it, and it is exaaactly how I feel.  Watch the clip HERE instead of having me recite it for you. (And then come back to see some cute pictures of my kid, k?)

 

It's weird to think that anyone else has these feelings. It's as if I think my parenting experience is unique. And of course each parenting experience is unique because no two people are exactly the same, but the emotions must be universal. 

Parenting is funny that way. While it's a unifying experience because you find out so many people are going/have gone through the same ups and downs, you feel at the same time that you must be the only one in the world to have ever felt this way.

Or maybe I'm the only one thinking that. Ha.