Happy 2nd Birthday Matthew!

As I was pondering my eventful day two years ago, I realized how clear the details of the night of June 16th through the morning of the 17th have stayed in the back of my mind. I remembered how I felt, what we were doing, how things went...then I wondered. Wait. When Ammon took me to the hospital, did my mom watch Matthew? How do I not remember...that...? Okay. So the details weren't as clear as I thought. I really forgot what it was like to not have a son. I really don't remember what my life was like two years ago. I must've had more time on my hands than I knew what to do with. I must've been able to focus completely on myself! How weird that I can't remember what I did, what I didn't do, and how odd that I really used to think I had a lot to do. It's strange what being a mother can do to a girl. Because that's really what I was. I was only 22. No experience. No lesson about how to handle a marriage of 13 months. BAM. A baby. Here he is. I have to say that the last two years have been the most wonderful, trying ones of my life. I feel like what a returned missionary says after he arrives home. There has never been anything more worth it. Never has anything been more rewarding. Never has anything been HARDER!

Two years ago...

A not-so-common picture of me pregnant. My mom insisted on snapping some before we left for the hospital. This was about four hours before Matthew was born.
(Don't mind the mess!)

It was June 16th and we had just left Sloan's house for our monthly FHE with all the family. No Chris of course. Gavin was not even 9 months old. Amelia only 4. As we drove home, my mom in all her wisdom notices the full moon and says how we might be welcoming the baby that night. The last thing Sloan said before we left? See you soon! I was nervous. Again, no one teaches you what you're going to be doing, let alone feeling. I don't even remember being that nervous when I got married. (I'm sure I was, it was just a completely different nervous. I mean, this time, it was another life you're dealing with. Not just yours and your new husband's). We went to Albertson's and got a little thing we'd like to call Castor Oil. Matthew's due date wasn't until the 30th, but as all expectant moms know, that day couldn't come fast enough. The sleepness, restless nights did anything to soothe your nerves. We'd tried walking the mall, jumping, warm baths. My doctor scraped me (a very painful thing I might add) and I was dilated to a 2. All signs that pointed to an early delivery. Finally, we tried the oil. I wasn't sure how I got up the courage to drink the tiny bit I did, but I gulped it. I just knew deep down that I had to do it. BUT on the other hand, I knew that I would be the one who would have the bad side effects from doing it. You know, the diarrhea, the sickness. But, once it slid down my throat, no turning back. I showered and wasn't sure how you would really know what a contraction felt like. I never really felt pain during the whole process. It was around 10:30 pm I took the Castor Oil. (Disgusting texture, flavor, thought. If you drink motor oil, I'm sure it tastes the same). Around 1:30 am, after we'd gotten done watching Bucket List, I got more uncomfortable. I could literally watch my stomach tighten and loosen. Was this a contraction? No one tells you what a contraction really feels like. I mean, WHO TEACHES YOU THIS????? My mom woke Ammon up and told him to take me to the hospital. I reluctantly called my doctor who told me to go in. I knew I'd be "one of those" who got there and would be told to go home. I'd heard of dozens of anxious moms who go in hoping that'd be the day and shocker, it didn't happen for another two weeks. I packed a few things and decided we'd try it out. We got to the hospital, St. Rose de Lima, and checked in around 2:05 am. The nurses were very understanding and nice and I was put into a room "to be checked." Again, had no clue really what I was doing. We waited a lot and during what seemed like 14 days, I think I had to literally pee every three minutes or less. I will remember that sensation forever like it was the first time I'd tasted chocolate. Sadly enough, I was only at a 3 and was having contractions every 4 minutes. They told me that they would probably have to send me home until Dr. Lewis told them to check my blood pressure. She'd been worried about it the whole time and since it was high, again, they checked me into my room. the nurse came in and told me I wouldn't be leaving. I felt that sense of panic. Oh no. Was I going to get my epidural? Would I feel pain? When was I ever going to have to STOP peeing?? And most of all, is the baby going to be okay? Ammon did his best to comfort me. I mean, he was all new at this thing too. After a few phone calls to a unsurprised Sloan (she'd been the one to tell me about the Castor Oil in the first place) and an anxiously-awaiting mother, they'd both left their homes to meet us at the hospital. Dr. Lewis told the nurses to go ahead and give me my epidural. I wasn't really sure why. I don't remember being in pain and I don't remember feeling worried, but I wasn't about to question a pain medication, so I quietly smiled and agreed to whatever they were going to give me to allow this to all go smoothly (and pain-free I hoped). The anesthesiologist who wore a Utes hat walked in and I don't ever remember loving a person without even hearing them speak. Remember those tender mercies that Nephi and Elder Bednar so graciously talk about? I really think that Heavenly Father really blessed me that early morning with that anesthesiologist. The weight that was lifted off my shoulders was as if I'd been carrying a heavy pack for months (even though I had done just that). The worst pain I remember feeling was with the eight-inch in diameter needle they stuck in my wrist. I still feel it. The pinch in my back wasn't that great either, but it paled in comparison to the huge needle sticking out of my poor arm. They told me they were going to break my water and so everyone except Ammon had to leave the room. The next details were and are still are a complete and total blur to me. The nurse, her name fails me now, sat on my bed to check me. All I remember next was her yelling to get my doctor on the phone and that she was unable to leave my side or let go of me. The panic in her voice instantly brought tears to my eyes. Why couldn't she explain what was happening to me? They immediately stuck some oxygen on my face, completely eliminating any intention I had of having words escape my mouth. A nod here and there followed with silent tears is all I remember being able to do. Phone calls and yells to the same anesthesiologist, the speaker phone being put on in my room with a panic nurse telling Dr. Lewis to come RIGHT then and a few people hustled us around. Someone told Ammon to put on his blues. And they started to wheel me out. The nurse still had her hand holding Matthew in and I still had no clue what was happening. After the wheels started twirling in my head at the same time as the bed wheels squeaked out the small hospital room, she leaned down to tell me where I was headed. "Honey, you're having an emergency c-section. The baby isn't coming out right and it needs to come NOW." Okay. I don't remember many details about the next things, but I do remember the total fear I felt right then. Where was Ammon? Was I alone? Wasn't I just okay two minutes ago? What exactly is happening for me to have a c-section? I wasn't "one of those" to want a c-section. I never in a million years thought I'd have one. Most importantly, WHAT WAS GOING ON? A lot of medical talk followed and more tears streamed down. Still no talk from my covered mouth (not that I could get anything out even if I wanted to), but above me I saw two comforting faces. Ammon's and my anesthesiologist's. If I felt comfort that day, it was because of the blessing Ammon had given me minutes before we'd left home and because of those little words Jeff told me that day. It was HIM who explained what was going on. It was him who told me it wasn't my fault that the baby had to come be Cesarean. The cord was wrapped around his neck three times, his stomach twice and his arm was by his head and he was trying to come out arm first. His poor arm was stuck by the cord being wrapped numerous times around it and his heart rate was dropping dramatically. The next things were a blur as I remember Dr. Lewis arriving with her usual cheerful self. I don't remember many sounds either, but I will never forget Dr. Lewis's sweet voice humming Indiana Jones. She talked the whole time about how he was trying to be Indiana Jones and how he must have liked that movie and how he must love the song. When he finally came out and I heard his cry, a sense of relief overcame me and I could finally relax. I remember seeing Ammon's tears and his tightened grip on my hand and it wasn't long until I blacked out.

Jeff, a lifesaver in deed. (Go Utes!)

Matthew's first picture.

7 lbs. 6.8 oz 20 1/2 inches long. Born 5:37 am.

Ammon's first time holding him.

Our first official family photo. See how out of it I was?

I woke up in another bed, freezing cold. Where was my baby? I wanted to know details about how much he weighed, the time, his length. Most of all, I wanted to hold him. I'd gotten a quick peek over the blue curtain before I blanked out, but I just wanted to see him longer than two seconds. It was over. He was here. I didn't get to hold him for a few hours after he was born (Ammon was first, my mom second), but the first time I did was like a relief I can't describe. He was okay! He was a healthy 7 lb 6.8 oz 20 1/2 inch baby boy! I was officially a mom! I can't even fabricate what Mary must've felt when she held Jesus for the first time, but I can't imagine it was really that different. Motherhood is universal, a sweet tender blessing only women are allowed. She was no doubt, relieved. Jesus was born. He was hers! Heavenly Father had entrusted HER with this perfect boy who would grow to do great things. She didn't know all the details of what he'd do or to what magnitude those things would become, but she did know that he was the Lord and it was HER responsibility to care for this child. I am no where near as wonderful or virtuous of what Mary must've been, but I, like her, was entrusted by Heavenly Father with a perfect baby boy to conceive, bear, raise, love and teach. He gave him to me because he knew I could do it. There are days when I don't know how I got Matthew, but he's mine. A small sense of pride wells up in me when I think about this little boy being so much like me. When he gags every time anything with a foot comes around, when he hugs me only the way a little boy can hug their mom. Amazing things that Mary was also able to feel.

June 17, 2008 was a wonderful day in deed. I was a mom and Matthew was my son. He wasn't named until the 20th (a nickname he got just hours after he was delievered was Pending because of an email my mom sent out with details of the birth and an ending of "Name Pending." He's still called that by Chick Nelson almost everyday!). The past two years have been tough, I've said that before. But, just like what Mary must've also felt, they were by far the most rewarding.

Matthew, bud, you are the best thing that I have ever imagined could come from me. I just stare at you sometimes and wonder how in the world I got someone like you. If I could only teach you all Heavely Father and Jesus want me to teach you, I'd be relieved. If I could only express their love for you, then you'd never have to question your earthly experience. How do I know of their love for you? Because it eternally multiplies my love I have for you. It was you and me when I was pregnant. No one else. It was I who had the opportunity to carry you. It was I who felt you kick and stir inside and I who was able to sigh a sigh of relief when I held your tiny hand in mine just two years ago. You are such an example of what Christ teaches. If I could be more like you, I'd be perfect too. Your forgiveness, your humility, your patience, your love you have for all, IS charity. Thank you for teaching me everything I need to do to become more Christlike. Without you, I'm not sure of the woman I woud've become. Thank you for your example, your sweet love and tender connection you will always share with me as your mom. If there is anyone you'll ever refuse to go see, I am the one you'll always find comfort in. When you grab for me when you're sad, smile at me every morning when I get you out of bed or laugh at when I tickle, or listen when I teach, a pride swells inside me that I can't explain. You're a great son with a great future ahead. Heavenly Father has so many amazing things in store for you and I can't think of a better role for me to play than the person to teach you about those things you'll need to accomplish. I love you, Heavenly Father loves you, Christ loves you. You were sent to me for a reason. And just like Moses, Joseph Smith and President Hinckley all had missions to perform on earth, you're no exception. Here's to eternity and to you loving me as much as you do today in twenty years from now!

June 17, 2009. One year old.