Dear World

Dear World,

Stop being stupid.

Yup that really about sums it up.
I mean that can be applied to, well, pretty much anything.

For instance,
to the women who don't like to work out, the women who do work out aren't fat shaming you when they post their progress photos or about their work outs or their life-style choices.
And to the women who think that the other women who don't work out are lazy,
just stop being stupid.

To the moms who stay home, stop judging the moms who work.
To the moms who work, stop judging the moms who stay home.
Stop being STUPID.

To the moms who have babies in the hospital, stop judging the moms who have babies at home.
To the moms who have babies at home, stop judging the moms who have babies in the hospital.
STOP BEING STUPID.

To the moms who nurse, stop judging the moms who bottle feed.
To the moms who bottle feed, stop being intolerant of the moms who breast feed, yes this means even if they choose to do it in public.
Just stop being stupid.




I nursed and I bottle fed. Honestly, I think both these pictures are beautiful. What is the point of thinking you're superior if you nurse or if you bottle feed? Can we just forget trying to be better than someone else and just be friends?
I'm so over it.

There's so much I'm just fed up with right now, and I don't feel like getting into it. So I'm just going to cover it with a blanket request.
STOP BEING STUPID.

Because all of these feuds are really ridiculous.
Women need to stop women-shaming.
Being a woman is a hard job, and honestly sometimes it sucks but sometimes it's really awesome.
Can't we all bond over that common fact and forget the rest?
I mean really?
STOP BEING STUPID!

Please and thank you.

That is all.

Love,
Sarah

He Hears Me

I've been wanting to write about this for a long time now.
I even started once, but I didn't finish.
I hate to jump on the bandwagon when this is such a popular subject, but I feel like there is something that needs to be said and I want to say it.
I'm going to start with what I had begun to write two months ago but never finished because I feel like it's a good introduction into what I have to say.

"The interesting thing about depression?
It will always be a fight you can win.
But that's the easiest fact to forget.
The people with depression are fighters.
We have looked into the depths of darkness, we have gotten out of bed, and on the days that we haven't, we kept breathing.
No matter what, every day we do our best.
And the funny thing about doing the best you can?
It's still your best.
And that's something to be proud of.
I am a fighter.
I have fought many battles and won.
I win those battles, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day.
Because depression is a fight I can, and will, win.
Because the strength it takes, isn't in your heart, or your will, or your hope.
It's deep in your soul.
Those with depression, fight those battles, and day by day, we are changing our worlds.
Those who have lost their battle, they are not less valiant, strong, or brave, their loss is tragic.
Because losing your fight with depression, is to lose your hope in the world.
Your hope in others, your hope in yourself, your hope in the Lord.
Which is the saddest of all.
Because at those darkest moments when we feel the very most alone, are the moments when we couldn't be less."

Let me tell you about suicide.

I remember being very young when my best friend told me she was contemplating suicide. I cried and begged her not to leave me. I couldn't do it alone and I felt she was my only ally in the world.
Later on, I contemplated the potential result her possible suicide would have on me, my family, and hers. I thought how selfish it is for someone to do that damage to their family.
That's the only way I could see suicide, as a horribly selfish act of cowardice.
I was very naive and so incredibly mistaken.

I thought those things before I faced my darkest moments and entertained the idea of suicide and felt the full crushing weight of depression that came as early as elementary school and that I still battle with today.
I remember from time to time thinking "I wish I were dead", "I just want to go home" and the heaviness of my desire for the rest of my soul.

I want to tell you about this incredibly personal thing because I recently read a blog post about Robin Williams and his suicide. It made me so very very angry.
They went on to write about how it is a person's choice and it is fully their responsibility and that we ought not to look at it as if someone lost their battle, because it might glorify suicide and give someone contemplating it an excuse to follow through with those thoughts.
As if anyone contemplating suicide is looking for an excuse.
That paints such a false picture of the person dealing with those thoughts.
When I think of someone looking for an excuse to kill themselves, I think of someone who has victimized themselves, someone who is weak, someone who is kind of pathetic.
And that is simply NOT TRUE.
When the thoughts of suicide invade your mind, you look for any excuse NOT to end your life.

Let me tell you something about people with depression,
We are nothing short of warriors.
We pick up our weapons daily and battle Satan from our minds. Because having depression is like living with Satan in your head, every day is war. And like war, some days you win, some days it's a tie, and some days, it looks like you might lose. But we keep fighting. We do the best we can and often, we feel that tremendous effort inadequate. And when someone loses that fight, it is not up to us to determine if it was cowardice, or deep tragedy.
The church recently put out a statement about suicide which said that it is not for us to judge what shall happen to those who commit suicide, only The Lord knows the circumstances surrounding the death, and that many who do commit suicide are not entirely responsible for their actions, that we cannot fully understand the state of mind those people may have been in.
This does not glorify suicide in anyway. But it begs us to not condemn them, because The Lord does not.

This blogger also talked about joy, and how you cannot be depressed when you have joy.
I disagree.
There have been times that I have gone to the temple to find solace And I feel incredible peace and joy and light, yet at the same time, my longing for home is so exquisitely deep. To say that joy will make depression disappear is a beautiful thought, but so often not true and sounds dangerously close to "well you just have to choose to be happy, it's that simple" which connotes that if you don't achieve that happiness, there is something wrong with you. And you have failed. Which is often more dangerous than to say someone "lost their battle" with depression.
I understand that we do not want to glorify depression, but think about the opposite for a second. Do you really think someone isn't going to commit suicide because they felt ashamed of it?
No!
By shaming suicide and those who commit it, you only make those who are contemplating it draw further within themselves and feel more alone than ever and they become even more at risk.
But admitting that depression is a battle, that it is hard, and that it is not weakness to contemplate suicide, makes it okay to talk about. It makes someone thinking about it feel more comfortable to say "hey, I'm struggling, I need someone to help me fight this because I don't want to lose my battle" wars are not often won by the efforts of one solitary person, but instead by legions of soldiers fighting for one cause.
We need people in our corner, people we can go to when the terrifying thoughts of suicide invade our tired souls and minds. Saying it is despicable is the absolute last thing someone in that position would need to hear.
To anyone who might have thoughts of ending their life, or ever has, please, please recruit your friends, your families, anyone you can to your cause.

I urge anyone who is fighting to remain on earth to keep going, keep battling.
Fight the good fight.
Look for tools to defend yourself against depression, against the disparaging thoughts, to keep moving forward. Every step you make is a victory, every breath you take is hard won, remember how far you have come and imagine how far you can go.
But if you are having thoughts of suicide, know you are not weak, you are not selfish, but know that you have it in you to keep going, to keep fighting.
I take personal great comfort in the scripture that says The Lord will not test us above that which we are able. In other words, even when you don't think you can make it any longer, there will ALWAYS be someone there who KNOWS you can.
I have always found tremendous hope in that thought.

You are not alone, you are not forgotten.
You are loved.
You are important.
You matter.
And if you ever feel you have need of support, a shoulder to cry on, or someone to tell you that you aren't crazy, I hope you will keep me in mind.
I am more than happy to be a soldier in your army against darkness.

"In the gospel of Jesus Christ you have help from both sides of the veil and you must never forget that. When disappointment and discouragement strike - and they will - you remember and never forget that if our eyes could be opened we would see horses and chariots of fire as far as the eye can see riding at reckless speed to come to our protection. They will always be there, these armies of heaven, in defense of Abraham's seed."
-Jeffrey R. Holland
Love,
Sarah

And as always, know you can talk to Heavenly Father any time. He will hear you and he will wrap his loving arms around you and surround you in quiet peace even in your deepest and darkest of hours.
I know this because I have experienced it. I have felt it. I have felt the sweet relief of peace and love as I have fallen to my knees and pleaded with the Father.
He loves you and he knows you and he will make your burdens light.
He will be the General in your war against depression and the Holy Ghost will be your greatest weapon.

"He hears me
When I'm crying in the night
He hears me
When my soul longs to fight
Till the morning will come
And the light of the dawn reassures...
He hears me"

Tricky Trichotillomania

So, almost two years is a bit long to wait for a follow up blog post, but what can ya do?
After I wrote "Loving Lacking Secrets" I was so touched by all of the support and great responses I got. It took me a while to respond to those kind words, and I can't remember if I responded back to everyone, but know that if you left a comment, wrote me a message, or said anything about the post, it made a huge difference to me and has given me the confidence to be so much more open.

You might be wondering "why now?" Why decide to write another blog post about trichotillomania now when you haven't said a word about it in so long?
Well, I stumbled across a video on youtube of a girl who also has trichotillomania.
But the difference between her and me is she isn't trying to hide it.
I am blown away by her bravery!
(You can watch her video about her journey here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CiBIXMBEqgE )
Since seeing that video I have come across so many brave women and girls who are also not hiding, but are tackling their trich head on and raising awareness by talking about their struggles.
I found it so inspiring!
Did you know that about 4% or 1 in 50 people in America struggle with trichotillomania?
I sure didn't!
In my last post, I mentioned that it was considered an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Now it is apparently classified as an Impulse Control Disorder. Honestly, I don't know how comfortable I am with that change. It feels a bit obsessive and compulsive to me, it doesn't feel like an impulse.

Ok, quick overview for those who didn't read the first post about it.
What is trichotillomania? It is where I have the (I guess impulse, but we'll call it an) urge to pull my hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes out strand by strand.
I've had it since I was a freshman in high school (since I was about 14).



I guess what it really comes down to is, I feel like I'm on this journey to be much more accepting of myself and I feel like talking about this is one way I can accomplish that goal.
So we're going to take a quick trip down memory lane here. I tried to find pictures that you can see the evidence of my trich in, but it was very hard to do. There was no such thing as Facebook when I was in high school and camera phones were still relatively new, so there's a lack of pictures of me from when I wasn't so good at hiding it. Which I'm glad and sad about all at the same time.
Lets start before I began to pull.



I'm eight in this picture.
I always had long hair, my mom would put it in a long, thick braid down my back every day.
I would sit for hours most Saturday nights that I remember while my mom painstakingly put it all into foam rollers so it would be curly on Sunday morning for church.



Like this.

My hair has always been my favorite feature, the part of me I was most proud of. Yet at the same time, in the last 12 years, it has also been the thing I hate the most about myself.



This is about a year-ish before I started to pull my hair out. I can't tell you how much I wish I had never started.
I remember the day I began pulling clearly, as if it was even just earlier today.
Probably because every day that I pull feels like I've begun all over again. The emotions never really change.

I was sitting in English class with Mrs. Bartollo... oh gosh does anyone else remember her? That class was crazy!
Anyway, and I just sort of started to pull my hair out.
It didn't hurt.
In fact, there was something satisfying about it.
So I kept doing it.
By the end of the class, I had a pile of hair on my lap that I threw on the ground, hoping no one would notice and say anything about.
When I got home, I opened up my Math book, but instead of working on my homework, I piled hair on top of it as I pulled it out.

It's strange to look back at some pictures from high school and see how thick my hair still was. Even though I had bald patches underneath and around the crown of it.




I can't find any pictures of me when I was pulling out my eyelashes and eyebrows from this time, but I remember trying to hide it with makeup and false eyelashes and being mortified when anyone would ask me if I was wearing false eyelashes.
I even remember lying once and saying that I wasn't (it was pretty dang obvious that I was...they were thick, stage eyelashes).
There's my big confession for the day I guess! Haha!
I remember after a performance (I was big into theater in high school) my dad was standing with me and my friends and he leaned in close to me and looked at my eyelashes and commented that I had been pulling them out.
I don't know if you even remember that dad! I know you didn't mean anything by it, it was just an observation, but when people did things like that and said something, I felt like I was dying from the embarrassment!
Thankfully, that's all I ever really heard about it. No one teased me about it, no one pointed it out, no one bullied me, no one shunned me, or avoided me (that I know of) in high school and for that, I am so grateful.
Because so many girls with this are!

For me, the problem ebbs and flows.
Sometimes it's worse than others.
Mostly it gets worse with stress and bouts of depression.
I have it all the time though.
Today I probably pulled out about 5-10 strands.
It was a good day for me.
As I was reading about other people's experiences with it, I kept coming across people keeping track of how many days they have been "pull free"
Pull free is a foreign concept to me right now.
Meaning, there hasn't been a day in the past 12 years that I haven't pulled my hair.
That was pretty crazy to realize!



This is me at 20.
Six years of pulling had left my hair thinner than it would naturally be, and much more brittle.
As you twist and pull your hair, it begins to break off. That makes sense now, but I had no clue then. I was just constantly frustrated with the insane amount of split ends I seemed to always always have.



Please excuse the face I was making in this one! (Be advised: this is NOT a "duck face". This is my "I look like a muppet" face.)
This is right before I went on my mission.
I had done a fairly good job of keeping out of my hair that year, you can tell because it looks semi even and full. My eyelashes were even doing pretty well and so were my eyebrows.
This was certainly a high point in my struggle with trich.



I chopped my hair off in my first area on my mission. I was in a biking area, in Florida, in July and August and I thought I was going to be there for much longer than I was, so I cut it all off. Biking with crazy long, thick hair, and a helmet is not an excellent combination. It's actually kinda gross.
I so wish I hadn't cut it.
I moved areas in September to one with a car and I began to hate the short hair. I didn't feel pretty with it. My self esteem really took a hit and I began to pull a lot again.



This is me the summer of 2011.
My mission president had told me about a year and a half earlier that it was time to go home because my depression wasn't going to get any better there.
You can see the effects of that and school (I had done a semester at BYU and BYU-Idaho -where I had pulled a 4.0 semester for the first time in my life) in the thickness (or lack thereof) of my braid and the wispy hairs at the top of my head.
This is by far the worst I have seen it.
I didn't know it was so bad at the time.
I remember braiding my hair and wondering why my braid started so thick at the top, but ended up being so short and thin at the bottom.
Even I didn't know how bad it was.




When I met Larry in April of 2012, I honestly can't remember how I was doing with the pulling, but I can see the damage that I was doing/had done to my hair in these pictures.
My hair isn't frizzy normally, so all of that frizz that you see is regrowth from places where I had previously pulled out my hair.
After we were married, I picked up crocheting again. It was a small side hobby of mine before, but I really started going at it then. I started really getting into it partially because I had a lot of stomach issues probably due to stress and so it killed two birds with one stone, so to speak. It kept my mind off of stress which made my stomach hurt so bad I couldn't get out of bed, and it kept my hands out of my hair.
But simply having a hobby hasn't cured it.



This is last August. I was pregnant and I had been really pulling at my hair and my eyebrows. You can see the damage I did to my right eyebrow, I tried to hide it with makeup and my bangs, but I think this particular day we were running late and I had forgotten to shadow the area like I usually did.
One thing about pregnancy, it made my hair crazy crazy thick!
I forgot just how thick till I looked at that picture again!
But, when you nurse, if you aren't careful about your nutrition (and sometimes even if you are careful about it) your hair can start to fall out. Since I don't think I've been careful about nutrition a day in my life, mine started to fall out like crazy. So that, combined with the trich has stolen all of that thick gorgeous hair from me!
It's so weird to look at that picture and then to look at this one:



I don't know if anyone else can see the difference, but I certainly can.
And it makes me so sad.

You might be thinking "Well, why don't you just stop? If you hate it so much, why are you doing it? Don't say you can't, that's just giving up. You are doing this to yourself, don't play a victim."

I don't know how exactly to explain this.
It isn't something that I can just stop. And when I hear that, all I can think is "there's something wrong with me" which begins the vicious cycle- There's something wrong with me, why can't I just be like everyone else, I don't like myself, then the depression sets in, and the self loathing turns into pulling, which breads more self loathing, why can't I stop, look at what I've done to myself- rinse and repeat.
I hope I don't come across as a victim, because I absolutely don't think of myself that way.
There are SO many who struggle with this who have had to shave their heads because the bald patches are so bad, who are mistaken for chemo patients because they have no hair, eyelashes, or eyebrows.
Now, I'm not saying those women are weak, are you kidding? These are the women who are speaking up about it, who are posting pictures of themselves without hair, and makeup. These are some of the bravest women I have ever heard of.
The fact that I haven't ever reached the point of needing to shave my head is a small personal victory.
That is a fight I have won so far and that I keep on fighting every day.
This isn't just about self control.
I don't fully understand why I do it. But I know that when I do, a small part of me feels soothed but agitated all at the same time. Sometimes, I feel better when I do it. I feel comforted. So I keep going.
One of the biggest things people think is helpful to someone who has trich is to tell them to stop pulling when they are around them.
While I understand the thought, if you draw attention to it maybe that can help stop the behavior, it actually hurts more than helps.
For a few reasons, one: I'm frightfully stubborn and independent and when someone tells me to stop doing something...I want to do it all the more, two: I just feel embarrassed and I start thinking about pulling, and it takes that much more effort not to do it.

As I was researching about trichotillomania, I came across a few sites and people with suggestions on how to stop, or how they want to find a cure.
That was a really interesting thought for me and it forced me to consider a very important question that, surprisingly, had never crossed my mind before.
Getting better. Not having a problem any more. "Pull free" days.
But do I want to get better? Do I want this to change.
I'm honestly disturbed by the first thing that came to mind.
No!
I realized that it's comforting to me, it's like my security blanket, it's soothing to me. That's a thought that's festering!
I'd like to change that. I don't want to rely on this condition to make me feel good.
I'm a little disgusted with myself for thinking that I do.
So that's something I want to change.
And while I work on that, I hope you won't mind if I do a few more updates from here on out, if I talk more about it.
I think it's something worth talking about, and learning about.
I hope you'll ask me questions, if you have them. That might even force me to learn more about my condition!

I was so nervous to publish my first post. I was worried people would think I was strange, or creepy, or damaged.
I was so scared, I was physically shaking when I pushed the "Publish" button!
But I was met with so much love and understanding, no one was mean or hurtful, that this time I'm going to push that "Publish" button with so much confidence.
Thank you for that!
I hope you have found this interesting and have maybe even learned something.
Bottom line, everyone is struggling with something. We all hide things we are uncomfortable with in our lives, and they effect us all in different ways. So please, always speak with kindness, always be sensitive to those around you.
I read something that said, with the statistic being 1 in every 50 people have trichotillomania, that means the likelihood of there being more than one person on your friends list with this is pretty great! But not everyone is ready to talk about it.
So please, be loving and kind to everyone around you!
Thank you!

Less Than Three,
Sarah


P.S. This doesn't just effect women, about 80-90% with trich are women, that still leaves 20-10% who are men. Just thought I'd make sure to note that this is not a disorder that only women deal with on a daily basis.
P.P.S. I found this article that is titled "5 Things to Know When Dating Someone with Trichotillomania" but, honestly, I think it is good advice for when you're friends with someone with trichotillomania. So check it out: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/sandy-rosenblatt/5-things-to-know-when-dating-someone-with-trichotillomania_b_3963146.html

It Wasn't Love At First Sight

This is a post I've been wanting to write for some time.
Pretty much since James was born.

While I was pregnant, I struggled.
I'm so incredibly grateful that I wasn't as sick as some women get, I mean my life wasn't threatened and I wasn't put on bed rest and I was so thankful to be pregnant.
I don't know what it is about nausea and morning sickness, but it drains you.
It's like the dementor of pregnancy.
You begin to believe you will never be healthy again and like there's no joy left in the world!
When you're that sick, it's hard to be excited about having a baby.
I remember my dad was really concerned that I was going to be a detached mom.
He kept saying that when the baby was born, I'd instantly fall in love with it.

But I didn't have some huge love at first sight moment.

It was so different from that.

It came quietly.

Almost gently.
I looked at him and the love gracefully settled into my heart, like remembering.
It felt natural, as if he had always been a part of my life and I had always loved him.
I thought "Oh, yes. James. I know you. And I have loved you with everything in me since before I can remember."
I imagine, and hope, it will be like that with all of my children.

I've always felt this immense love in my heart that I used to want more than anything to share with someone, and it just feels like with each life I add to mine, I'm giving that love a name.
First was Larry, and now I've added the name James.

And he's perfect.
His smile is sweet and infectious.
I've heard a lot of moms say that it was love at first sight with their babies.
I don't like that, "love at first sight" it connotes that the love wasn't already there.
That it had a beginning.
It wasn't like that for me.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Less Than Three,
Sarah

I Don't Want My "Pre-Baby Body" Back

So, I'm a little tired of being on Pinterest and seeing more than a few pins about "how to get your body back after baby!" or recipes for homemade stretch mark creams.
And I started wondering,

Why are so many people so concerned with their pre-baby bodies?

This is going to be another one of those posts that feels frighteningly personal to me.
Because I'm going to admit something that I don't even want to admit to myself.

I have an unhealthy relationship with my body.

I know I'm not the only one.
Since high school, I have criticized my body, feeling like it wasn't skinny enough, tan enough, etc.
I remember going to tryouts for drill team before my freshman year, being concerned about having to wear shorts that showed my pale anti-thigh-gap legs.

I'm so tired of hating myself! I'm so tired of hating my body!
And you know what?
I don't want my pre-baby body back.

And here's why.
When I met Larry, I was back to the weight and size I was when I graduated high school.
I had waited years to get back to that!
Even though, when I graduated high school, I thought I was big.
I was a size six!
But the only way I had made it back to that size was because I had basically lived out of my car and on kind friend's couches for a month or two the year before while I tried to find a job to stay in Provo. I lived on about three dollars a day. Which got me three chocolate chip cookies and a large Dr. Pepper at McDonnalds. That kick-started my weight loss. I didn't get to that weight in a healthy way.
The majority of that loss was done the semester before I met Larry, by not changing what I ate, but how much. And a little bit of exercise.
The problem is, even after attaining my size six again, I STILL felt like I wasn't skinny enough.

I didn't have a healthy self image.
I still don't.
And I want to change that.

Here's my point.
What I hate about the idea of getting "my body back" is
it's not MY body anymore.
It's not!
I had a baby!
I shared my body with that baby for nine months.
And I plan on having more children.
It will never be MY body again.
What is so wrong with that?
What is so wrong with having a little bit of cushion?
I'm not unhealthy.
I'm not obese.
I'm me.
Why is that wrong?

You know what, I don't have time to exercise! I have a baby! Who needs played with, fed, and loved.
I can't even imagine having more than one and trying to make exercise a priority.
Honestly, I really look up to the moms who do!
Good for them!
That's great!
But just because they have found a way to work weight loss into their already busy day doesn't mean that I am, in any way, less.
It doesn't mean that I'm unattractive.
It doesn't mean that I'm a bad person for not being able to figure out how to accomplish that yet.

Even two years ago when I had lost the weight that I wanted to, I still wasn't happy with myself.
Because I'm still learning how to love myself no matter my dress size.
That's what I want to see.
I want to see less pins and blog posts about how to prevent stretch marks (that whole thing irks me too, but I won't get into it now...but...who the freak CARES if you have stretch marks??) and how to get your body back.
I want to see pins and blogs about how to accept yourself at any size, before baby, after baby, while you're pregnant, at any point in your life.

Quite frankly, I'm more concerned about learning THAT before my poor self esteem rubs off on my kids than I am the fastest way to get rid of my "mom arms". Because I know it will if I don't get a handle on it.
I don't want my daughters to be worried about their hips, bust, waist, or thighs! I want to teach my daughters to be beautiful women no matter their outward appearance. I want to teach my children to be confident in themselves and to be good people.
And I can't do that unless I am.

I suspect that I'm not the only woman who wants, more than anything, to stop worrying about her size, or the social pressure to loose weight when there's really nothing wrong with me as I am right now.
If I happen to loose weight in the future, I want it to be because of a healthy lifestyle and because I'm running to keep up with my kids.
Not because I'm killing myself in a gym or spending time sweating buckets doing extreme living room workouts because I want to be thin and look like the ultra pretty girls on Pinterest.
I want to feel good about myself.

So I'm making that commitment to myself.
I'm not going to commit to loose any weight.
If it happens, it happens. Great.
If it doesn't, I'm still me.
I'm a mom and I don't regret giving my body to my children.
Because it's not about me and "my body" anymore.
It's about a little boy named James.
So I'm going to do better about not criticizing myself in the mirror, hating the indiscriminate parts of me that make me who I am.
Maybe I can be a positive role model for my children someday.
That's what I'm going to concern myself with.

Less Than Three,
Sarah



(I hope no one takes this as an attack on moms or women who have made it their goal to get in shape and live healthy lifestyles. Like I said, I really do look up to them and I wish I could be more like them. Living healthy is an incredible feat! For me, living healthy is also about my mental outlook. And that's what I hope to work on)
(Photo credit to Kylee Matthews at Kylee Alyssa Photography for the first picture and Terry Hess for the second)

Changes!

Guess what?!
We're going to Washington!
Right after James was born, Larry and I were praying (we knew we were supposed to be doing something this year, we just didn't know what or where or when) and we got the answer that we need to move and we need to do it NOW.
So we started assessing our options, we thought about Logan and getting Larry into USU, we thought about Provo and doing school there, and then we thought about Washington.
And everything started to fall into place.
Larry has a job up there and we found a place to live and our move in date is March 1st!
That's right.
We're moving to Issaquah!
Which is crazy.
Honestly it had never crossed our minds before. My parents had moved and the cost of living is higher there and it just wasn't on our radar.
But I'm pretty excited. I'm excited for something that more closely resembles seasons, rain, trees, THE TEMPLE (oh my gosh I'm thrilled to be so close to a temple again!), and for Salmon Days, and to get to take James to Snowflake Lane (he'll be so much fun at Christmas time!! He'll almost be a year old and I just can't wait!), and for parks, and family excursions, and friends, and maybe even SNOW!!
We'll even be moving into my home ward!
So we're going to be seeing you soon Issaquah 1st!!

It will be hard to not be around family anymore, but thank heavens for Skype!

So that's our big announcement!

I hope you are all doing well and enjoying your day!

Less Than Three,
Sarah

ItsSarah Wehadababy Eeetsaboi

(So... I started this about 23 days ago...Sorry it took me so long to finish it!)

Oh man.
I'm warning you, this may quickly turn into a very long post!
What is included:
PICTURES! I was supposed to be napping today (my mom got mad at me when she came in and found out I wasn't) but instead I snuggled my baby and took about a zillion pictures of him...I CAN'T HELP MYSELF!!
Birth story!
How I feel about becoming a mom!
And I think that's it, but we'll see how it goes.



So, we'll start with the story of how our little one was born.
Monday December 23rd I had a doctor appointment but my regular doctor was out so I saw someone else in the office. It turned out that my blood pressure was a little high and there was some cause for concern so the doctor decided to send me over to the hospital so they could run some tests and make sure everything was ok.
Seeing as this was my third time going to the hospital to "get checked" (I'd been having pretty much ongoing, regular contractions for about a week and a half at that point) I figured third time was a charm and maybe, just MAYBE, I'd be walking out of the hospital with a baby!
So they took my blood, ran some other tests on me and the baby, and we had a quick ultrasound. The last time we had an ultrasound, the tech was pretty surprised about the amount of amniotic fluid I had. I had about as much fluid as I did baby which is fairly unusual for that stage of pregnancy. But no one said anything and we figured everything was fine.
During the ultrasound on Monday, the tech mentioned the amniotic fluid again but no one told us anything or mentioned anything and we were sent home AGAIN. When we voiced our frustration to the nurse, she understood and was very kind in validating our concerns.
I am so grateful for what she did next.
She told us that there was some need to be careful about when my water broke because of the amount of amniotic fluid I had. When we asked her what she meant she just told us that when it broke it would be best to either drive to the hospital with me laying down or, really, to call 911 and get an ambulance to pick me up since we live so far away from the hospital.

So when I got home, I looked up what she was talking about.
Apparently I had what is called polyhydramnios. It's when you have an excessive amount of amniotic fluid and it can cause a number of complications should your water break, especially if it breaks at home.
The two largest complications are a prolapsed cord where the umbilical cord comes out with the fluid and the baby's head descends on top of the cord, cutting off the blood supply to the baby, and placental abruption where the placenta detaches from the wall of the uterus depriving the baby of oxygen.
Pretty scary stuff!
And the most concerning part of it was that NO ONE had said a word to us about any of it. Thank heavens that nurse did because if she hadn't, we never would have known we needed to be concerned and (I learned after some research) had my water broken at home we most likely would have lost the baby since we live an hour and a half away from the hospital.
So when we left the hospital on Monday they said they wanted me to come back in to recheck my blood pressure in a few days.
I found all of the information Christmas Eve so Christmas wasn't exactly the most relaxing this year!
We decided that I'd go back to the hospital to get my blood pressure checked and that we'd insist on talking to the doctor about our concerns.
When we got to the hospital, I ended up with a fun nurse...sarcasm implied...who was very confident in her 33 years of experience. When we talked to her about the due date confusion she put up a pretty big fight that I was only 39 weeks and absolutely NOT 42. I believe my favorite part was when she said something about she'd been nursing for 33 years and this was only my first baby. Oh and that there was NO WAY that I could be 42 weeks because my body would have already naturally had the baby because NO ONE goes to 42 weeks.
After the baby was born the doctor told us that my body would never have gone into labor on its own because the baby couldn't get into position to put pressure on the cervix to get everything dilating and moving, it took everything I had not to go back to triage and rub that in her face...
Anyway, we put up enough of a stink that they finally called the doctor on call and brought her in to talk to us. And she completely agreed that it wasn't safe for me to go home and wait for my water to break. She said the only way I was driving another hour and a half was with a baby when I was taking him home.
So they admitted me!
Then we waited for a long time. We waited for them to bring in another ultrasound technician to check the amount of amniotic fluid I had. On Monday, my amniotic fluid was at about 27. On Thursday, it was 37. The doctor came in and told me the game plan was to give me an epidural (AMAZING btw), break my water slowly, start me on pitocin, and have a baby!
So that's what happened.
And around 9 AM Friday morning they had me begin pushing.

So I pushed.
And I pushed.
And I pushed some more.

And then I felt the baby move.
And when they checked the baby to see if he was still descending, they found that he hadn't budged since they checked him the last time. The doctor came in again and, come to find out, the little bugger had rotated so his body was facing up and to the right and he couldn't go down any more.
So they decided that it would be best if I kept pushing and see if he would move again and be able to descend again.
So we kept going.
Till I had been pushing for three hours.
The doctor came in again, said that she felt the best decision would be to take him C-Section. She said that I had been pushing for so long my body was tired and she didn't want to put it through trying to turn the baby, and pushing more.

I've had this attitude about the whole birth thing, that it's birth. I can't control it, so I might as well roll with the punches. I educated myself the best I could about the process and had an idea of how I would like for it to go, but my heart wasn't set on it. I knew things could potentially come up that would prevent me from having the most ideal delivery. So when the doctor suggested a C-Section, I didn't worry too much about it. I mean it made me a little nervous, I've never had real surgery and there's a lot that's kinda scary about it. But I trusted the doctor and I felt that was what needed to happen, so I had no problems with that outcome.

So they took me in to the operating room to get me prepped.
I must say I was so grateful for the anesthesiologist. I could tell the nurses didn't really love him, but he really became an advocate for me while Larry was waiting to be allowed in the room. He noticed when I wasn't comfortable and took measures to make me more comfortable. I ended up still being able to feel so they had to completely knock me out, honestly I was grateful for that.

It was a little strange to go to sleep pregnant and wake up not pregnant and have my baby wheeled in the room.
I don't remember a ton from when I first woke up, I remember asking if the baby was ok and being told that he and my husband would be coming in shortly. I also remember seeing James for the first time and my thoughts.
My first thought was "He's so little!"
The doctors had been telling me for weeks that we were going to be having a big baby. But he was so little! I wasn't expecting it! He was 8 lbs and 2 oz when he was born, but he still looked so so tiny! He ended up losing a lot of that and at his smallest in the hospital was 7 lbs flat.
My second thought was "He's so perfect."
And he is.
He is so incredibly perfect.








(That's one of my favorite pictures of Larry and James so far)


We were in the hospital for longer than normal due to two things, the doctor told me that I had basically done both - I had almost had a vaginal birth and I had a cesarean so my body is going to take longer to recover since it was so tired by the time they decided to just go in and take him. The second was he was a little jaundiced so he spent a night under the uv lamp and was better by the morning when they finally let us leave.
So we brought our baby home on New Year's Eve.
And I got to have the best start to my 2014, just hanging out with my baby and Larry.

Larry is loving being a dad. He gets nap times with the baby sleeping on his chest and I swear I have NEVER seen anyone so excited to change a poopy diaper. He's an amazing dad!

A lot has happened in the month since he has been born (well, a month on Monday but close enough)
He is finally fitting into his newborn clothes (we didn't buy many since we were going to be having such a "big baby")
From the day he was born he has been lifting his head like a pro. He can basically lift half his body up...it just depends which end he wants to lift up during tummy time and it's hilarious to see him sticking his butt and legs in the air!
He has already figured out rolling over!
It has certainly been the most difficult thing I've ever done, and we're still getting used to it. But I have the most beautiful baby boy and I wouldn't trade that for the world.






My favorite picture thus far!


It's so strange to think that James is a little person who will walk and talk one day. That he'll grow up. I'm trying to enjoy the fact that he's just little right now, and I'm trying to appreciate these first few days and weeks because he won't be a baby forever.
This stage of our lives together is fleeting and it will be over before I know it.
I'm also cataloging the things I can give him heck about for the rest of his life and all the ways I look forward to making him feel awkward. (Because, as we've all learned, I excel at awkward)

So that's all for now. Keep watch for some new announcements coming soon about some changes we are hoping to make this year! I hope you all had a fantastic Christmas and New Year and that your January has been excellent so far!

Here's to an incredible 2014!

Less Than Three,

Sarah, Larry, and James

And now for a few extra pictures




(Hope you don't mind me putting this picture up mom! Love you!)