The Flood

This is a story about a sink.

Namely, the sink in my hospital room.

When I was admitted the sink had a little drip.

Which turned into a steady stream when it was turned on.

And wouldn't turn off.

Which caused the nurse to try and fix it.

But she's a nurse, not a plumber.

So the steady stream became a ranging stream.

Which started filling the sink and overflowing.

Making the nurse run to find help.

Which turned into 5 nurses forming a bucket brigade,

to empty buckets of sink water into the shower,

and in the process spilling a good amount on the floor,

with two security guards watching in the hall.

10 minutes later the plumber showed up.

And now there is no more ranging or steady or dripping water.

Excitement in the hospital. :)

Optimism

Op·ti·mism 1. A tendency to expect the best possible outcome or dwell on the most hopeful aspects of a situation

Jake and I were talking the other night about the past few weeks. Despite everything that has happened, from our washer and dryer breaking, our dishwasher broke too, a flat tire, Jake's grandfather was hospitalized, my mom got the stomach flu when she stayed with us, me being hospitalized, our kitchen sink pipes started flooding under the sink when we turned it on, and among other things, we both felt so incredibly blessed. We don't want to look back at this time and view it as a dark time in our lives.

So these are the blessings we are choosing to remember.

Christmas and birthdays came a little early as Jake's dad and my parents helped us get a brand new washer and dryer.

Our landlord gave us the dishwasher out of his house to replace ours.

Our neighbor and wonderful friend Tij came over on is own and fixed our sink.

We only had to pay $20 to get a new tire.

We got a random gift card from some distant family friends that helped pay for a baby swing.

I have had the BEST doctors in the world who have gone above and beyond.

My mom was only sick for a day.

Rhett has taken to a bottle and formula amazingly well.

He is the most peaceful baby and has been only one feeding in the middle of the night.

We have had more help given than we know how to say thank you for. Rhett has had the best babysitters and we have been helped with dinners etc.

Jake's work schedule has been flexible.

We both have felt peace.

We both feel that we have experienced more spiritual growth than any other time in our marriage.

We feel that we love each other more now than any other time in our marriage. :)

Tear Soup

When our little Rhett was born, I was anticipating the rush of love and devotion and selflessness that I thought would come naturally with motherhood. I felt like I prepared my whole life to be a mom, even my undergrad was Marriage Family Human Development. I knew we would be having a boy, a very special boy, even before we decided to start our family. But over the past two weeks I've been learning that sometimes life doesn't follow the course that we originally charted for it.

I've been sitting here trying to figure out how to start this post. I guess just saying it is the best way. I was diagnosed with relatively severe Postpartum depression two days ago and was admitted to the hospital yesterday for a series of reasons. Extreme and abrupt weight loss, insomnia, panic attacks etc. The reason I'm blogging about this is that I want, and need, an outlet...and I am trying to learn from this. I don't feel ashamed that I have it. I feel guilty...like I'm not good enough to care for our son. But I'm trying to accept that just because I feel this way doesn't mean it's true.

I've cried more over the past two days than I think I ever have. I have always been taught by my parents, leaders, and scriptures such as this that Christ's atonement is powerful enough to not only pay the price for sin, but mighty enough to heal every pain and sickness we experience...emotional, physical, mental, or spiritual. Yet, in the days and weeks after Rhett's birthI find myself asking, "If I have to feel this heartache and pain so intensely, why too did Christ have to feel it?" I just can't bare the thought of both of us going through such darkness, loneliness, and pain.

And this is what I'm learning.

Because of the knowledge that God has, and the love that he feels for me, he won't take this trial away from me...even though he could. Instead, He sent his son thousands of years before me to experience my personal pain so that I might have a friend, a Savior who could truly understand it, help me through it, and then through mercy make up where I fall short.

Elder Dallin H. Oaks helped me understand more when he said:

"Healing blessings come in many ways, each is suited to our individual needs. Sometimes a "healing" cures our illness or lifts our burden. But sometimes we are "healed" by being given strength, understanding, or patience to bear the burdens placed upon us."

And it hit me... Christ didn't suffer in Gethsemane to take away my pain…he suffered so he’d understand my pain and understand how to heal me in a very real, personal way.

As much as I want a quick fix to this, I am so grateful for what I am trying to learn. So grateful that in the middle of the night when I feel so much anxiety about trying to be a mom, that I can remind myself that I am a child of God, that He trusts me because He sent me a child of His and and that no matter how I feel, there is always hope.

"Wherefore, be of good cheer, and do not fear, for I the Lord am with you, and will stand by you..."

D&C 68:6

Mom and Dad and Rhett

With the lack of sleep and my overactive hormones, blogging hasn't been at the top of my list. Honestly, I'm not sure I can handle having a list right now. No one told me that recovery would also be emotional. I figured it would be physical, that was a no brainer. Thankfully for the most part physical recovery hasn't been terrible. Yes I'm beyond tired often enough, but my emotions...well let's just say I feel like an over strung Eeyore who recently joined an Emo band and is really discovering his emotional side.

I don't want to seem like I don't feel wonder and awe that Jake and I created the most handsome little boy ever. I do love when he is bright eyed and ultra aware of us and his surroundings. He makes beyond cute faces, especially when he poos his pants. He grins like he couldn't be more pleased with himself. And he should be. The kiddo poops at least 10 times a day. He had is 1 week Dr. appointment on Monday and instead of losing weight like most babies do, he had gained 4 ounces and grown 3/4 of an inch. So based on the diaper count and his doctor stats, we think we might have a future chunk for a son.

Labor was relatively easy. At least after I got the glorious epidural. I had about 2 ours of contractions without one and Jake kept asking me what it felt like. Well to be honest it felt horrific. I had really bad back labor. But once I got the epidural I was fine. We played RummiKub, I slept etc. It did give me the shakes really bad which wasn't fun since I still had them when I went home. And nausea accompanied it too. I was in labor for 10 hours and pushed for about 40 minutes. The most painful part was that the placenta wouldn't come out so they had to reach up inside of me (so not pleasant) twice and pull it out. It felt like my doctor's hand was in my ribs.

And now we're home. I'm trying to learn to let others take care of me. That's been more difficult than I thought it would be. Sometimes I feel great and sometimes I feel like I can't make a simple decision without having a melt down. It's really taught me how much I love Jake and what an beyond amazing husband he is. In the hospital one night I was throwing up and in the process lost all bladder control and peed all over his feet. And somehow he still wants to give me a kiss.

I'm looking at Rhett now and I'm amazed that somehow I'm a mom and Heavenly Father is trusting me to take care of him. I'm learning that we really do need to pray for charity because it is a gift and is very much needed in parenthood. I don't mean to sound depressed in this post. I just want to be honest. This is hard and I really don't know how I'm going to be able to do it sometimes. Maybe it's counting the small victories. All I know is that I have to keep telling myself to take it one day at a time.