Dear God, Please Help

Editors Note: Belief in God is a personal choice. I have friends who don't share that choice with me. I love them and respect them. This post centers on God. 

I've started and deleted this blogpost a dozen times tonight. I've written paragraphs. And I've deleted those paragraphs. I've cried. I've mourned. I've looked through photo slideshows. I've read articles. I've watched videos.

And yet, I can't figure out how to put my emotions into words. A Utah Jazz beat writer, Jody Gennesy, wrote a wonderful piece on the Sandy Hook Elementary School tragedy, and I echo every single one of his sentiments.

Then, as I learned more about the tragedy in Connecticut this afternoon, my thoughts turned to my daughter. My thoughts turned to the little six-month old blessing that sleeps in the room next to me. My mind wandered to her smile. Her laugh. Her cries. Her eyes. Her hands.

I longed to hug her. I needed to hold her. I needed to see her.

I thought of those that I love dearly. I thought of my nieces who were on an airplane coming to visit. I thought of my nephews. I thought of my nephew who is due this week. I thought of the world he was coming to. I thought of the phone call I had earlier in the day with my friend Cora--a kindergartner herself. She asked for my address so she could mail a letter to our family dog. I gave her my address. She said she loved me. I told her I loved her too.

I thought of her sister, Penny. I smiled.

I thought of our friends, Olivia and Hannah--both elementary school children. I thought about their families. I thought about how much I enjoy their visits. I thought of all my friends with young children. My friends who take so much pride in their children's accomplishments. My friends whose eyes light up when talking about their kids or their nieces or their nephews.

I finished work. Got in my car. Drove to my mother's home eagerly--to pick up Etta. I fought back tears pulling into the driveway. I fought back tears walking to their door. And I fought back tears as she reached for me when I walked in the room.

I held her. Kissed her. Hugged her. Laughed with her. Smiled with her.

I thought about how she wasn't aware of what happened across the country.

Then, I thought about how she was one person I know who has more insight to where these young shooting victims now were.

Then I thought about God. Certainly He was pained as these young children were taken from their families in such a senseless act of violence. Certainly He wept. Certainly He hurt. He had to have put His hands to His face as these children's lives were cut short. He had to have been in pain as He watched another one of His creations exercise agency in such a heinous way.

Then I thought about His reunion with each of those children. I thought about Heaven's newest additions. I thought about God meeting each child with a hug. A kiss. And a smile.

I acknowledge God's hand in so many things in my life and in the lives of those I love. I think He loves to help His children. I think He helps His children all the time. I think He is there even when I'm not seeking Him out.

Then I stared at a blank page and composed a letter. A letter to God. A request for continued help.

Dear God, 

Please help. 

Please help those families whose homes feel empty tonight. Please help those mothers and fathers who have one less tucking in to do tonight. One less bedtime story to read tonight. One less set of teeth to remind they need brushing. One less goodnight kiss. 

Please help their hearts. Please help their spirits. Please help. 

Please help us all put aside our differences. Please help us all mourn together. Comfort each other. Smile at each other. Help each other. Love each other. Be there for each other. Be tolerant of each other. Be friends. 

Please help us recognize our blessings. Please help us take nothing for granted. Please help. 

Please help our society come together. Please help our leaders. Please help our future. Please help. 

Please help, 

Me

"Don't Give Up, Don't Ever Give Up."

"Cancer can take away all my physical abilities. It can not touch my mind. It can not touch my heart. And it can not touch my soul." -Jim Valvano-

This evening as I was sitting downstairs with Annie and our nearly permanent house guest Tyson (who we love), I saw that the Monday Night Football crew was reminding their viewers that this week was Jimmy V Cancer Research Week and I instantly thought of one of the most stirring speeches and moments I've ever heard and seen--a speech that makes me literally weep when I watch it.

Lots of emotions run through my mind when I think of this speech, and I don't really know where to start when I think about writing them all down.

I think of a very sweet co-worker/friend who is taking on cancer right now and she's giving it everything she has. She's fighting so hard.

I think of some of my best friends who I know are struggling with an array of things in their lives. I love these people like family and I hurt when they hurt--even if I don't always show it.

I think of those I know that have lost little ones in recent times, and who continue to be examples to me of never giving up.

I think of my family.

I think of Etta.

Then, I think of this quote from Valvano. "Don't give up, don't ever give up."

While I'm not battling many of the things my close friends and family are or have, I still have daily battles in my mind and my moments of giving up on certain things seem more and more frequent.

And it takes a quote and a speech like this to help me keep perspective. Valvano delivered a speech at the 1993 ESPY Awards that has created a legacy. The entire speech can be found here, and if you find yourself with 11-12 minutes, I suggest sitting down and watching the speech in full.

But if you only have a couple minutes, then please watch this two minute clip as people remember that moment and some of the most inspiring lines ever delivered from a podium are shared (if it doesn't play embedded here, click the YouTube icon to watch it in YouTube where it will work). 

If you aren't familiar with Jim Valvano, please visit the website for more information on the inspiring coach and his foundation.

In the full speech, Valvano gives three suggestions that every one should do every day.

1. Laugh-I love that the first suggestion he gives to everyone is to laugh. This is a man who would die less than two months after giving this speech. A man who knew that there would be no cure in his lifetime, but who wanted a cure so badly for future generations. A man who stared death in the face. And he laughed daily. It was the first suggestion he gave to people.

Today, I walked in the house after work, put my keys on the table and turned around to a smiling Etta playing on her toy and watching me. I laughed. And not a boisterous or out of control laugh. It was a simple laugh, but it was a real laugh. A genuine laugh. It was the kind of laugh that I believe Valvano was suggesting we have each day. Annie walked in the room and Etta lit up, like she always does around Annie, we both laughed real laughs.

2. Think-Valvano said that everyone should spend some time in thought each day. I wonder what my thoughts would be like if  I was faced with his situation or my co-worker/friend's situation. How would I react in my mind? I believe that Valvano's moments of thoughts were clear and I know my co-worker/friend finds absolute clarity in her thoughts.

After laughing with Etta post-work. I stared at her. I ran my hand through her hair. I tickled her neck and squeezed her cheeks. And I thought. I thought real hard. I thought about the kind of dad I currently am and the kind of dad I want to be. I thought about providing for her. I thought about my career. I thought about where I was going. I thought about what our relationship will be like as she grows older. I thought about how I can ensure that relationship is strong. And for the first time all day, I thought about NOT giving up. It's so easy for me to give up these days at work. It's so easy for me to quit fighting that sometimes the thoughts of giving up can cause me to be lethargic and depressed, quite frankly. But when I sat there with Etta, I realized that giving up is simply not an option. Regardless of my state of mind at work, church or whatever, giving up is not an option. It wasn't an option for Valvano and it's not an option for me. It can't be.

3. Have your emotions moved to tears-Valvano suggested that everyone cry every day. He suggested that we all find something that moves our emotions to tears. At first I thought how easy it must have been for him to find something that causes his emotions to move to tears when staring death in the eye. But I don't think his physical status had anything to do with his emotions being moved to tears.

A couple of my really good friends pride themselves on not crying. However, I've seen them both cry at different times over the last little while. They may not know it or have realized it, but their moments of emotions moving them to tears triggered my emotions that, at some point, moved me to tears, and I'm thankful to them for that. I truly think Valvano knew that when our emotions are moved to tears, it's not always only a good thing for us--but for those around us. The other night Annie was telling me about a lady she knows who has a baby grandchild that is really struggling physically and is in and out of the ICU. Annie's emotions were moved to tears because of gratitude for Etta's well-being. This caused me to tear up. And I think it caused us both to offer a silent thanks for our little girl.

After laughing and thinking while sitting next to Etta this evening, my emotions moved me to tear up (literally, how could they not? Look at her!). I caught myself before the water works completely set in, but I wish I wouldn't have. I wish I would have let the tears flow. There were a variety of reasons for my emotions being moved to tears and I should have let them move. The overwhelming reason was Etta. She brings so much happiness to our home. She's everything.

I'm so thankful to have come across the Jim Valvano speech again. I watch it at least once a year, usually during this Jimmy V Week, and each time I watch it, I resolve to have more resolve, and I needed that today.

Sometimes I just want to hug my friends or family that I know are going through some difficult times in their respective lives. Other times I want to shake them violently and literally grab their eye lids and open them (I realize that the latter is not a good approach).

Then I realize that perhaps, at times, they want to do the same thing to me. Perhaps at times, they feel that I've given up. And sometimes, maybe they're right.

I think what I need to do is think of Jimmy V. Look myself in the mirror. Hug myself as I go through difficult times. And, if needs be, shake my face violently and literally grab my eye lids and open them to all the blessings I have.

"Don't give up, don't ever give up."

Don't Take Etta's Future Away

If you know me very well, you know that no one enjoys a bit or a joke or a sarcastic comment more than me. I list these things as hobbies. So I joke about things a lot--including politics in my comedy special, "That's the Democrats for Ya" (edited and narrated by Tyson Camp). I shouldn't think I'm that funny...but I do. :)

For our election night festivities, we went to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner--where Etta passed on the apps and cheesecake and opted for an Enfamil-filled bottle.

I've watched Etta when we've gone to restaurants and malls. No one gets love of all people more than Etta. She smiles at everyone--and she doesn't care what their race, religion, sexual preference, political party affiliation or whatever is. She just wants to make them smile...and I think there's a lot to learn from that--even if she is just five months old.

But, all joking aside, I was actually bothered tonight with the conclusion of the election...and I'm not referring to the outcome. I'm not referring to Ohio, Virginia, Florida or any state. I'm not referring to the candidates at all. I'm not even referring to the stupid celebrities speaking out in favor or against the reelection of Obama (let it be known that I despise celebrities in general and I especially despise them when they insert themselves into politics so flippantly and wrecklessly).  I'm referring to the people in my own neighborhood and communities. I'm referring to the people who damn the whole the world from an election. I find these people a lot more dangerous than any politician.

Do I think that President Obama deserved another shot at fixing our country? No, I don't. Do I think that he will lead our country back to economic stability better than Mitt Romney? I don't know. Did I think Romney has the tools and experience and leadership to bring us back economically? Yes, I did.

And I voted for Romney. I voted for Romney because he spoke of bipartisanship. He spoke of reaching across the aisles and working together, both parties, to accomplish great things. And that's why I voted for him.

Do I support President Obama now that the election is over? Absolutely. 100%. I hope and pray now that he too will use a bipartisanship approach to work and bring our country along to where it needs to be. One man is not the answer. It's a collaborative and cooperative approach that will bring us back, and that's what I hope happens and what I think can happen if pride and egos are set aside from both parties.

Here's why I refuse to accept the reelection of President Obama as such a miserable thing: Because my little girl has a lot of living left to do. She has a lot of potential. She's earned the right to have a dad that is supportive of the country she lives in. And you can say "but Kyle, the national deficit will continue to grow under Obama, etc." To which I say "ok, so what?"

What am I going to do about that now? Guess what? Regardless of who won tonight's election, I am getting up at 5am to make a bottle and change her diaper. Regardless of whether Obama or Romney lead our country, I'm responsible for making sure Etta is safe and warm. Don't take Etta's future away from her by damning the whole world because one man was reelected. You don't have to agree with Obama or the reelection of Obama...there's plenty of things about the last four years that concern me. But they don't concern me enough to start freaking out about Etta's national deficit. Right now, all Etta needs to worry about is her next bottle.

I can't stand the ney-sayers and people who are willing to chalk the next four years up to the worst in our country and to tout that the world is ending. My world just begun. Five months ago. It's not ending. Not in our home.

We'll continue to evolve and adjust to whatever is thrown our way--and we'll continue to support America along the way. Why would I lose faith in America at this point? It's too exhausting. I stood next to Etta's crib tonight and smiled. I didn't care about 16, 20, 25 trillion dollars or whatever the debt is or will be. I just cared that she was breathing. I just cared that she was smiling. I just cared that she was here, in my house and my family.

Tough times may come and if they do, fine, we'll handle it. Yes, there are things that will affect Etta and our family, I recognize that. And those issues are important and I wouldn't begin to mark them irrelevant.  But that's ok. I'd be fooling myself if I didn't think we'd ever have to overcome any obstacles at all regardless of who our President was.

I want Etta to live in a country of people that work together to make decisions. Gay or straight, black or white, Republican or Democrat, Christian or Atheist, I want Etta to see people working together. I want her to see gracious losers and dignified winners. I want her to see winners welcome losers and together continue to build a country worth living in--which I still believe we have, Obama or NO-Bama (see what I did there?).

Don't take Etta's future away just because we have a reelected leader.

Pumpkins, Politics, and Perfection (And Garth From Wayne's World)

Editor's Note: I should mention that in no way do I find the three subjects in this blogpost title related at all...particularly the politics and perfection. 

Pumpkins

I've never really cared for Halloween much. In fact, the last Halloween I really remember getting dressed up for and participating in must have been 1993 or 1994. I was Garth, from Wayne's World--which looking back on should have won some type of 'best costume award' from the church in Bountiful that was throwing a Halloween party. But, instead, I grabbed the microphone mid-party, asked for everyone's attention and provided a very Garth-like "Scchhhwwiinngg", complete with the famous body gesture.

The party stopped. I put the microphone down and carried on with the activities--only to find out later what a faux pas this really was.

However, this Halloween I've been a little bit more excited--because of my very own little person to decorate unbeknownst to her and laugh and be entertained. While she won't be a character from a Lorne Michaels movie, she will be Repunzel and it will be adorable.

The other day we took a walk, the three of us, to a nearby pumpkin sale and purchased a few pumpkins for our porch. We threw little E up on the table in her bumbo and began carving the pumpkins. You'll see from the two videos below, just how insanely funny she found this to be (of course, Annie's antics aren't on video, but they would be reason enough for a great laugh).

The second video is where she really picks up the pace with her laughter and it was at this moment that I realized that I could rally behind this whole Halloween thing. Pumpkins will always mean a little something more to me now. :)

Politics

I generally hate politics and generally feel like most candidates are more concerned with themselves than they ever will be for me or my family.

However, this year, I've had some other thoughts along with my usual cynicism. I've been extremely grateful that Etta will grow up in a country where she does have the luxury of freedom--regardless of what politicians do.

Besides, it's been kind of nice this year during the debates and political ads that run relentlessly on television...Etta and I have been able to do something together during them all--vomit.

Perfection

I think a lot about perfection. Almost too much. In fact, you could say that I am perfect when it comes to thinking about perfection.

If you know me, you know just how imperfect I am (calm down...it's true. I'm sorry if this is a surprise to any of you). But I think about my imperfections all the time--to a fault, I think.

Truly, I preach to other people that they should give themselves some slack at times. That they should understand their imperfections can be a blessing and that they can learn from them. But when it comes to me, I don't afford myself the same benefit for some reason...instead, I just beat myself up for them (another blog post for another day my friends).

Where I'm really going with this is that even with all my imperfections, every day I am able to hold something that is perfect. I'm able to look into the eyes of perfection. I'm able to shake the hands of perfection. I'm able to tickle the legs of perfection. Kiss the cheeks of perfection. Rub noses with perfection. Feed perfection. Hug perfection. Smile at perfection. Cry happy tears at perfection. And of course, that's little E. She's perfect.

I was watching her earlier today while I laid beside her next to her floor toy thing (which she loves!), I watcher her blink. I watched her eyes move side to side. I watched her grab for the toys and kick her legs. I watched perfection operate and it made me happy. I don't anticipate that I'll ever know the joys of what it's like to feel perfection in oneself, but I know the joys of watching perfection every day.

And that's what I've learned from pumpkins and what no politician in the world can take away from me.

Two Guys I Don't Know

I didn't know Border Patrol agent Nick Ivie (although I know his mother quite well).

I don't know famous mountain climber, outdoorsman, and inspiration for the movie "127 hours", Aron Ralston (although I like to think that after working closely with him while he was the keynote speaker for our Nu Skin convention last week, I can say I know him...right???).

I don't think Nick Ivie knew Aron Ralston at all either--but both men had a big impact on me in very different ways last week...and in very real ways.

Basically, the chain of events began on Tuesday, October 9 when I received a phone call from the UCCU Center at Utah Valley University--the venue that we were using for our 2012 Nu Skin Convention.

My contact at UVU was calling to ask me if Nu Skin would be able to change our schedules around a little bit to accommodate the memorial and funeral service for Agent Nick Ivie--who was killed in action down on the Arizona/Mexico border.

There were several other phone calls made, I'm sure, and I'm happy to know that both Nu Skin and our vendor, Webb AV were willing to put things off for a short time to accommodate the memorial on Thursday, October 11.

Webb AV had set our stage up on Tuesday and Wednesday and when I showed up for a technical rehearsal on Wednesday afternoon, I was surprised to see a funeral rehearsal taking place instead.

I parked in the back lot of the venue and when I got out of the car I heard bagpipes playing from inside the arena. I walked in and found more than a dozen Border Patrol agents rehearsing the proceedings for the next day's funeral.

The bagpipes were leading a band in the arena before practicing their exit. The pallbearers were rehearsing their walk and how they would carry Agent Ivie's casket into the arena and how they were going to exit the arena.

I took a seat several rows up in the bleachers and took my notebook out to start working on some stuff during their rehearsal. I was immediately drawn to the rehearsal. I was quickly touched by what I saw. I put my notebook away and sat there quietly. Alone in the arena while these agents rehearsed the funeral of one of their own. I sat there watching them fight their emotions. I sat there with my own emotions.

On the screens on the stage was a slideshow of photos of Agent Ivie--ranging from when he was young to his days in training with the Border Patrol to his days as an agent to his time spent with his beautiful family.

Pictures of him and his daughter flashed across the screen and I could tell through just those photos the type of love he had for his daughter. I sat alone in the arena bleachers, with tears filling my eyes. I had to take deep breaths to keep from losing it. I had to wipe the tears away.

I didn't even know Nick. I never met him. But I know exactly how he felt about his daughter--because I feel that about my daughter. I resolved right there to always love my little Etta as much as I can each day. I resolved right there that I never want her to wonder if her dad loved her. I want her to always know how much I love her. I want her to never have to think about it--just like I could tell Nick's daughter felt.

If something should happen to me, I want E to have no doubt that she was loved by her daddy.

The funeral rehearsal ended and our convention moved on. Moved on to Friday night--where Aron Ralston came to speak.

Aron was great to work with through his rehearsal (led by the great Shelley Gardner) and through his time at the venue where I got to work closely with him by helping the great Jill McMullin (both ladies are legends in the events world!).

I stood with Aron right before he went on stage and I had the chance to talk to him one-on-one. He was very kind and he spoke with such resolve. In the middle of a story, his intro finished and he headed out to stage.

I had the chance to sit in front of the house for a change during his speech and he continued to speak with great resolve. Resolve for each of us to remove our own boulders in our lives. Resolve for us to find what really matters in our lives. Resolve for each of us to make the best of each day.

I sat there, in the same arena where I sat for Nick's funeral rehearsal, this time with thousands of people, and my emotions were the same. I wanted to do what's best for E. I want to help her remove any boulders she'll face in her life. I gained a perspective that I hope I can remember forever.

It's rare when a convention or event ends and I feel motivated, but after the week's events I did. I was motivated to be the best dad I can be for E. I was motivated to love her unconditionally.

While I'll probably never hang out with Aron Ralston again and while Nick Ivie never knew who I was, I'm grateful for both men. I'm grateful for the opportunity both men's lives afforded me to reflect on my own life.


Maybe someday I'll be able to thank them both. In person.

A Month For A Cause

The past two-and-a-half months have been a whirlwind of emotion--there's no doubt about that. Each day I make at least five requests of Annie, my mother, my mother-in-law or whoever is around Etta that day to send me pictures.

Each day, I anticipate work ending more and more. I can't wait to get home to see this little girl. I can't wait to hold her. To feed her. To change her. To walk with her. And to love and be loved by her.

I have never felt a sense of responsibility and pride in another human more than I do in Etta. I've never felt the desire to protect and defend another person more than her--and I'm reminded every day just how special, precious, and significant her life is in my hands.

I hope I can an effective dad and friend to her.

Today, I saw a Facebook friend of mine, who has recently lost a child,  post a link about children suffering from cancer--namely those children that have been diagnosed with or were taken by Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma. I clicked on the link about myriads of medical professionals who fight daily to defeat this disease and, as I'm prone to do on Facebook, ended up clicking three or four other links that eventually led me to a a series of slideshows that featured children that have suffered from various forms of cancer--including DIPG.

My heart broke.

I've learned that September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, and it's something that's been on my mind for the first few days of the month.

I look up to those parents, family members, and friends of those children that have suffered and fell victim to these diseases. With every click I made on the slideshow and with every reveal of the next child who has suffered, been diagnosed with or even died from this disease, I thought of my little Etta.

I would do anything for her. I would fight for her. I would easily die for her. I would give up everything to keep her safe, and it breaks my heart to think of parents who feel like I do and had to watch their children go through difficult situations and trials.

And while the parents are proud of their children for fighting hard--in many cases to the very end, I know that those children that have passed are somewhere better--extremely proud of their parents for how hard their parents fought during those times.

I resolved to help more. I don't know how, but I will find a way to help.

I started with this website, http://www.dipg.org/, and I am hoping to find a way to be more involved in helping end this. If you can donate anything, I know it would be greatly appreciated and used with the utmost care and attention to helping cure these diseases.

This song is by J.R. Richards and it is an amazing message and a beautifully shot video and I think about it often when I look through the pictures and videos of those kids that have gone too soon, but who haven't left us for good.

My little Etta is a healthy, growing little girl, and I won't take that for granted. I will take advantage of all the time I'm afforded to be with her and I want to help other parents, who are struggling with these diseases in their homes, to have more time with their children.

The Queen's Jester

I've realized that this little girl, pictured here with two of her cousins, Lily and Faith,  is the Queen of our home.

Annie is her maiden, nurturer, and care giver and the Queen relies on her for everything. The Queen prefers her care giver to put her to sleep and to rock her comfortably to her iPod full of tiny person songs.

As for me, the Queen allows me to be a part of her kingdom--as the Jester. She prefers me in small doses (insert obvious "who doesn't?" joke here). She wants me around, but she wants me to entertain her.

She wants me to lay down next to her by her toy in the living room. She wants me to bounce her up and down while walking around. She wants me to tickle her. But if I try to put her to sleep, it's off with my head.

And I am just fine with that! I just want her to want me around. I want her to laugh at me and be entertained by me. I want to spend hours laying on that toy next to her. I want to tickle her tiny toes. And, I want to continue trying to put her to sleep because I think it's funny that she knows the difference and has a preference.

Here is a list of things that the Queen likes or dislikes about her Jester:

- She LOVES it when I sing "I Would Do Anything For Love" by Meatloaf to her while spinning her around and dancing with her.

- She hates my British accent and doesn't like when I carry on conversations with her as a British gent.

- She digs my version of the robot dance.

-She loves games of peek-a-boo...although, that's not exclusive to me as she thoroughly enjoys that game with everyone. But I like to think I discovered her love of the game and that she credits me with inventing the game.

- She likes it when I put her diaper on her head as a hat, and she likes it even more when I put her diaper on my head as a hat.

- She's a little hesitant when I hold her under arms and laugh at her bare bottom in the mirror....as I think we all would be in that situation.

- She loves watching Braves games with me (I'm assuming this one as she's still never made it through an entire nine inning game).

Basically, I've accepted my role of Jester and I love it. I want to always be this Queen's Jester. I want to always be a part of her kingdom.

I can't wait for the day when she not only enjoys my version of the robot dance, but joins me.

Something tells me she can pop and lock. :)

Homesickness

Editors Note: Big thanks to Stephanie Hedberg for the wonderful family photos below. She's great. We love her!

Lately Little E has been hitting a certain time of the night (around 8 or 9pm) where she has a meltdown and freaks out for about an hour or so. She gets so hysterical sometimes and it's just the saddest thing in the world to witness.

I call it her "time of the day" and I am using it as practice for that time when I will have to deal with her "time of the month"--something that I know is going to be a whirlwind around these parts.

The first few times I was privy to being with her for a meltdown broke my heart. I was so sad as I held her and she screamed and screamed and screamed. The only tears bigger than hers during those times were mine.

Usually I hold her close to me, almost like she's in a baby bjorn, but it's my arms. The problem is, being that close, she would sense my stress levels and I think she could tell that I was helpless and didn't know how to help alleviate whatever was ailing her. We would walk around the house, but she would just continue crying and I would continue being frustrated that I couldn't help and we'd usually end up finding Annie as fast as we could or having to go to separate rooms. I even said, out loud, to her once "Etta, darling, I can't help you if you don't tell me whats wrong." Then I realized that she was four weeks old and I was an idiot.

The last few days I have tried a different approach, and I think it's working. I keep her in that baby bjorn hold, minus the baby bjorn. From there, I walk up and down the sidewalk in front of our house, in the backyard or even around her room. During our walks, she's crying to start with, sometimes even hysterically, but I am keeping my cool. I'm talking to her, much like you would talk to an adult who was in peril.

I'm telling her how much we love her and that I'm sorry I can't help with whatever is bothering her right now, but she is just fine and she can calm down. Now, I realize that she can't understand WHAT I'm saying, but I think she can understand fully HOW I'm saying. She usually screams for a minute or so, then as I talk through it, she starts to scream intermittently before finally she stops screaming and commences smiling and then concludes with falling asleep.

Tonight as she and I were walking back and forth on the green rug in her room, I had a thought. Maybe she is just crying because she's sad that she isn't around the people that she knew and loved before coming here to be with us. Maybe she really is a little homesick. So, I asked my little seven week old if that was the problem. I asked her if she was sad because she missed Papa Wally and Grandma Flanagan. Was she sad because Bev and Roland weren't around? Did she miss Ray McCoy (because I'm convinced he was on the preparation committee that I'm convinced exists for all babies coming to earth). Did she miss being around my Grandpa Kuehnau? I'm sure I missed some people who were on that committee, but I think she was relieved.

She calmed down and even kind of smiled. It was almost like she was relieved that I finally got it. That I finally understood why she was sad. She was so happy that we were on the same page.

It was probably just gas passing that made her calm down, but I'm saying a combination of the two.

Once she calmed down, I told her that I knew she missed some very important people and I knew she was kind of out of her comfort zone. Then I promised her that we would do everything we could to make sure she was always happy.

She went cross-eyed and coughed (which I am taking as "no problem dad, we can do this together").

Then she fell asleep. (I should mention that minutes later she tried to adjust her head to get more comfortable and immediately slammed it into my chest which awoke her and shot her into a frenzy...but I'm attributing that to slamming her head on my chest rather than homesickness).

I calmed her down again from slamming her head into my chest and we moved forward with her nightly routine. She went right to sleep--where I'm sure she'll remain until well into the morning.

I can't say that I blame her. Being homesick is never any fun. But once we adjust to our new home, you never want to leave.

I only hope that even when she's older and leaves our house, she'll continue to return for walks with her daddy.

One Month Old

I've mentioned before that my sisters are great examples to me on so many levels--both of them have been a treat to watch grow up and become the women that they are today. 


My sister Karissa, at least for the first year of her kid's lives, wrote them a letter each month--something I think I've mentioned on this blog before. I love the idea and now that I have a beautiful little girl that is one month old, I think I'll take the opportunity to offer a letter to Little E. 

Etta,

To say that I can't believe that you are already a month old would be a gross understatement. It blows my mind that I am sitting here writing a letter to you about your first month with your mom and I. This last month has easily been the best month of my life. I have cried so many happy tears that it's easily drowned out any sad tears I've ever cried.

I can sit and watch you for hours. You are growing so much! You love to eat and when you are hungry you want to eat...at that very moment...no exceptions. You will be so peaceful and happy and then, like a light switch, you will want to eat and you will make sure we all know it. Once you start eating a peaceful calm comes over you and you settle back into being such a happy little girl.

When you're done eating you smile and relax...so happy!

You love to sleep and you are such a good sleeper! We go through our nightly routine around 10pm or 11pm every night and you sleep until about 4am or 5am with no issues at all (until you awake and realize that you are hungry--see paragraph above).

If you don't awake suddenly with the desire to eat, you take your time waking up. You stretch and grunt and squirm for nearly a half hour before finally waking up completely and then...see paragraph about eating.

You LOVE to be with your mommy. Sometimes you are so squirmy and fussy and the only thing that makes you settle down is to have your mommy hold you. You love her so much and and it's so fun to watch you two. She loves you very much and would do anything to keep you happy.

Mommy's been putting you in the bjorn lately and you can't get enough of that either--you're very happy so long as you are with mom.

You and your mom are soooooo much alike in so may ways. One time when I was leaving for work in the morning I went in our room to say goodbye. You and mommy were stretching and grunting in the same manner right next to each other as I was saying bye. You both hate waking up and it is such a chore for you to do. Unless you are really hungry (see paragraph above about eating).

Your hair is hanging on, but it may be heading out soon. We shall see. If it stays congratulations, if it goes, I'm sorry. I can't help but take the blame for that. ;)

You've had so many visitors and there are so many people that love you and I know you are going to be such a great person.

We love you so much and we can't wait to continue watching you grow strong!



Here's to another great month!

Love,

Dad

21 Days Down

We've had 21 days with little Etta now and it's been an amazing experience! Clearly there is still so much more to learn and so much more to adapt to--for all three of us, but so far, we've learned so much and I feel like we are all getting along so great!

To celebrate Little E's 21 days of being with us, I've made a list of 10 facts about Etta and things that I've learned about Etta since she's been with us.

I realize that most of these things are not exclusive to Etta and they probably apply to most babies, but still, they're things I've learned about Etta.

So, in no particular order, here they are:

1. She hates waking up. She's just like her mother and, in fact, I've watched them both wake up at the same time and it's the same routine--stretching and grunting and trying at all costs to avoid waking up but eventually succumbing to being awake and actually being quite upset with the first person they see (me) when awake.

2. She loves to stretch. She'll put her legs straight out and keep them stretched while having her arms way above her head. She loves stretching.

3. She doesn't care to be swaddled. This coincides with number 2 above. We forced her to swaddle for a little while because that's what we were told.  "Babies love to be swaddled. Swaddle her." We would swaddle her and then second later she would bust her arms out of the swaddling (no matter how tight we swaddled). As soon as her arms were out, she would settle right down and sleep.

4. Field goal sleeper. She loves to sleep with her arms up--much like a football referee signaling a successful field goal.

 5. There are parts of her neck that I KNOW haven't seen the light of day. But that's ok, it's super cute!

6. She's a loud pooper.

7. Her cheeks aren't just swelling. Her swelling went away quickly, but we've learned that her cheeks aren't swelling. They're just gigantic.

8. She doesn't care to lay completely flat. We have to prop her up just a little bit in her basinet. We were using a boppy to do that, but now she just naps in her boppy. At nights, we put some blankets under her basinet pad.


9. She hasn't quite made it through a Braves game yet--although she's worn more Braves clothing than most babies her age. She's usually good for half an inning or a full inning, but beyond that, she's not really interested.


10. When she wants to eat, she expects to eat. She will go from peaceful, sleeping baby to psycho baby in a split second--because she's hungry. And when she eats, she EATS! The girl slams food like she literally won't ever eat again and has to store up.






In summation, we love Etta so much! We can't imagine what life without her would be like. She's the perfect fit for our little family. She is an angel. And we feel so lucky to have her .

Etta Marae Flanagan: June 11, 2012

Since I was very young, I've always been told (and I've since confirmed it) that I walk with a bounce in my step. It was never for any reason. It's not like I thought I was so cool that I bounced when I walked.

It's really not even some type of structure issue within my ankles, I don't think. It's just been the way I've walked for most of my life.

But today, while returning from the hospital cafe with lunch, I caught myself bouncing in a reflection of a window. I thought about my bounce and realized that, for probably the first time in my life, I had a major reason for being proud enough of something that I bounce when I walk.

That reason: The lovely Etta Marae Flanagan. Born June 11, 2012 at 3:15am. Weighing in at a whopping 8.72 pounds and measuring at 20 1/2 inches long. She's beautiful. She's complete. She's my bounce.

She's everything I thought she would be. She's perfect.

In fact, she's the only thing I've ever done perfectly. She's the only perfect thing in this hospital room. She's the only perfect thing in our home.

I've been with her everywhere she's been since she's arrived here at the hospital. From the minute she was born, I was there. I walked through all the testing in the delivery room with the doctors. I accompanied little Etta to the nursery for more testing and her first bath.

She held my finger when her hepatitis B shot hurt her little (not so little) thigh. Later in the day, I was there when the pediatrician visited her and told me she was a "perfect and healthy little girl."

I changed her first diaper. Her first sneeze was on my hand. Her first attempt at a bottle was with me.

I realize that there is so much more to come with little Etta, and I probably won't always be able to be with her. But for the first 13 hours of her life, it's been she and I.

Her mommy did such an amazing job with Etta. She worked so hard to get Etta here. She persevered through the process like she'd been preparing her whole life for it. She earned her rest. She deserves some rest.

I remember looking at a little baby a couple of months ago at church and thinking just how perfect that little baby was and how happy his parents must be to have a little piece of perfection in their home.

I remember thinking that I was so excited to have some perfection in my own life.

I didn't realize just how amazing it really would be. I didn't know that I could hold perfection. That I could kiss perfection. And that I could cuddle with perfection.

Now I know, and it's a feeling I don't ever want to forget.

Etta Marae Flanagan. 8.72lbs. 20 1/2 Inches.

Ever.

Due Date 40 Week Update

Well, the due date has come and gone and we are sitting in our bed at home and not at the hospital. BUT, I think we're getting close, in fact, I know we are down to six days left, tops.

While we aren't quite to the point of Mrs. O'Hare from the comic, our one day overdue sure feels like 37 days.

In our 40 week appointment, the doctors said that we could go any time between now and the 15th (which is next Friday and feels like an eternity away...especially for The Big A). If the baby isn't born by the 15th then we will head in for inducing on that day--it's in the books and already scheduled.

We're really hoping that The News will decide to come earlier though--I know Annie wants that.

But what we want more than anything is a healthy baby. We want a baby that is prepared completely for the time with us.

And if it takes six more days for that baby to be prepared (or forced to be prepared at that point, haha), then that's what we will do.

One day or six days, we know one thing, this baby is coming soon.

Follow along for daily updates from here to the birth!

Friends...Not the TV Show

So, some time ago I wrote a post that I titled "It Takes a Village." In the post I talked about both of my sisters.

Kaitlyn, who is going off to Alabama in August for school, and Karissa, who lives in DC with her family and is soon moving to Chicago. I talked about how grateful I am for technology because it allows them to still play a crucial role in the development of our little baby.

What I failed to mention was how important of a role all of our friends will play and how grateful I am for EVERY friendship that I have and how I know that each of them have molded me into the type of parent I will be--mostly good, I think. :)

This video, by The Flight of the Conchords, describes friendship perfectly. In fact, it's because of one of my very best friends, Mr. William Tyson Camp, that I even started listening to the Flight of the Conchords. See, an impact already. Well done, Tyson. (I could go on about Tyson for hours, because I love him. But I don't want to inflate his ego).

The truth is, if my child can have friends like Annie and I have then they will be just fine. If my child can surround him/herself with the type of people that I have in my life, then I know they will be just fine.

This last week has been great. I've had the chance to catch up with a couple of my best friends who live outside of Utah (Devin and Beetle). Each of them have had a major impact on me. They each have two children and, even though it's been from a distance, I've learned so much from them and I know that they will be vital in my child's life.

Tonight, I got a call from another friend, Logan. I haven't talked to him forever, but we chatted like we talk all the time. It's nice to have that type of consistent friendship.

I had lunch with my friend Shawn today. I haven't had the chance to chat with him in years, and we picked up right where we left off.

Marie Josephson Stott has been a friend of mine forever and it's been so cool to now call her girls some of my best friends.

The list goes on and on and on. So many great people.

I run into and briefly talk with so many friends from the past that continue to be friends today and that's a really neat thing.

The last three years have given me the opportunity to develop friendships with some very neat women--the women of the Americas Events Team cubicle space--or work, as I call it. They have impacted my life so much and I'm extremely grateful for everything I've learned from them. I truly believe I will be a better parent because of my association with them and I truly believe that my child will be impacted by their friendship as well. It's nice to have co-workers that you know will continue to be great friends and will be involved in your life even if the co-worker label is lifted.

Even as work friends have moved on with their lives and their beautiful families (Mrs. Crowther and the gang) it's been so cool to have that friendship last. It's been incredible to see what our friends have done for us and our baby. Blankets, bath toys, gift cards...all so very much appreciated.

And to think, I didn't even know some of my closest friends a few years ago.

Annie's work friends have been wonderful as well. In fact, tonight, Annie made cupcakes and I asked her why she made those. And, of course, she said they were having a party at work. They have parties at the Pleasant Grove Zions Bank non-stop. But I know that Annie appreciates those friendships and I know that she wants her friends from work to be around even if the co-worker label is lifted. And that's a pretty neat thing.

I am excited for all of our friends to meet a new Flanagan friend. I'm excited for The News to meet so many wonderful people.

I should probably get The News a Facebook page right away...

Annie and the Crimedog

I remember the trade like it was yesterday.

The year was 1993 and the Atlanta Braves traded away two prospects and a second-year player to the San Diego Padres for Fred McGriff--or as he would come to be known The Crimedog.

Aside from both of us being left-handed and both of us playing first base for our respective Braves teams, McGriff and I had nothing in common. I lived in Utah--a state I'm not sure he's been to even now--and he was in the midst of a great MLB career.

But Fred instantly became my hero. I patterned my playing style after his. I wore his number (#27) and I after he left the Braves and changed numbers (#29), I followed suit and changed my number (it should be noted that Fred only wore #27 with the Braves because a certain John Smoltz wore #29 in Atlanta and Fred wasn't about to take that, but Fred wore #29 with every other team he played for in his career).

To this day, I consider Fred McGriff my baseball hero. In fact, I've often said that if I could meet any professional athlete, living or dead, I would still choose Fred McGriff.

But Fred's status as my hero has dimmed. My respect for my parents has been documented and they are clearly heroes of mine. My documentation (both written and mentally) of many of my friends as parents has made them heroes in my eyes. My sisters are heroes of mine. My in-laws are heroes of mine.

And all of them have gradually moved Fred further down the list.

While I've always considered Annie a hero of sorts, it's been these last 38 weeks that I've realized just what type of hero she is.

It's when I wrap her swollen feet with ice packs and help her elevate her feet that I realize that she's my ultimate hero. It's when I see her grimace because The News just Bruce Lee'd her in the ribs, and then I watch her smile as she realizes that The News just Bruce Lee'd her in the ribs, that I realize she's my ultimate hero.

It's when I know she wants nothing more than to lay on her stomach but she lays on her side for the 38th consecutive week that I realize she's my ultimate hero.

It's lately, when the beginnings of contractions wake her up early in the morning, that I realize she's my ultimate hero.

No one makes more of a sacrifice than mothers. No one experiences more discomfort and just down right crudiness than mothers.

I know Annie would do this pregnancy for 9 years if she had to--and that's a real hero.

Someday, our baby will have a hero of its own. It may be an athlete, an actor, a musician, or even its dad.

But there will be a day later in its life when it realizes that its real hero is its mother. My goal is to help The News realize its real hero early in life.

I've seen Annie play one game of softball in her life--a coed disaster of a game several years ago. While she gave it a great effort, she would be the first to admit that when it comes to baseball, she's no Fred McGriff.

But when it comes to being my hero, Fred is no Annie.

38 Week Update

I can't believe that I just wrote that blog post title.

38 weeks down and just two weeks to go until the due date! We are so excited around our house and our families are stoked as well. This is certainly the most anticipated and exciting event I have ever been a part of in my life--and that's including the Braves winning the 1995 World Series, which I played a vital role in.

This picture shows what our baby may look like at this point and not a day goes by where I don't get to feel the baby move. We can feel so much movement and so much of the baby as it squirms around in its cozy, temporary home.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about all the things that are seemingly uncertain in my life.

What do I want to be when I "grow up"? How do I want to be remembered? What type of impact will I leave? Where will my career path lead my family and I?

So much uncertainty and it can be so overwhelming.

But in the midst of all the uncertainty comes a tiny assurance that everything is just fine. When drowning in uncertainty of the future, I feel the certain movements of my baby. I feel the certain life that we've created. I feel the certain, unconditional love for a human that I've never met as a physical father.

When the uncertainty drowns out opportunities and attitudes, there is a certain mini-Flan bringing me a certain joy.

While I don't know what the future holds and while I'm sure there will be much more uncertainty to follow.

I know this for certain: I will have my very own little family to stand next to me and face anything that comes our way.

If the time I get to spend with my baby after he/she is born is anything like the wonderful time I've been able to spend these first 38 weeks, then I will consider myself extremely blessed.

Dear You

Editors Note: My sister, Karissa, has been writing her girls letters on her blog since they were both newborns. I've always enjoyed reading what she writes to them. After the first two pregnancies we had, I started wondering about our child/children and started writing some letters in a series I called 'Letters to You.' 


Now that we are only four weeks away from the birth of our little baby, I wanted to start writing the letters again--only this time with a baby in my mind and no wondering. I hope I can be the type of parent Karissa and Brady are. 


Dear You,

It's five in the morning right now and I am sitting in your room. Something tells me that we'll be sharing a lot of these early morning moments in your room--and I've never looked forward to something more.

I'm scared right now. Not scared of you or scared of the responsibility of being a parent. It's a good scared. It's the kind of scared that causes reflection and causes one to be up early in the morning sitting next to a crib. It's the kind of scared that makes you smile. It's the kind of scared I have been waiting years for. It's the kind of scared I don't ever want to end.

I haven't had these type of scared feelings since the day I left for my LDS mission--only this mission, the one I am embarking on with your mom and you, is for a lot longer than two years. This mission has long-lasting affects on all of us. But these scared feelings are much stronger than those, and I suspect the payoff will be much greater.

There are so many people that are so excited to finally meet you. You've been a wanted person for a very long time. I can't wait to introduce you to all of your family and friends. I can't wait for you meet all the important people in our lives.

I hope you are a forgiving person. I hope you understand that Mom and I will be trying our very hardest to make sure you have everything you need. But I hope you are able to understand that we're learning too.  So, please don't be mad at me if the water or formula is too hot sometimes. Please don't be upset with me if I don't actually "get it all" when changing your diaper. Don't laugh when I put the diaper on backwards (ok, you can laugh at that, in fact, I prefer you laugh rather than cry). I apologize in advance for yanking your arm around trying to get it in those onsies. Don't hate me for bumping your head.

Of all the things that scare me about caring for you, cutting your finger and toe nails seem to be the most frightening, so please don't get too mad if I accidentally cut your tiny finger during that process.

I'm not trying to hurt you, I promise.

I think of how scared I am and it only makes me wonder how scared you might be. You have four weeks to go and then you will begin your journey. Your mom is so tough and she has been such a trooper--you owe her everything, please always remember that.

As if what I told you I'm going to mess up isn't scary enough, there's going to be a lot of things that scare you throughout your life. I promise that I will be there when those things scare you. No matter what, I will be there. There will probably be times when you don't want me to be there. You won't think I'm there, but I will be there.

If you are getting some last minute advice from the support group that I'm convinced God gives all new babies, listen closely. Earth life isn't the only place that has people that love you and want to help you. So, listen to anyone who may be preparing you for your new adventure in the next four weeks. I don't know how that might work, but I think it does, so listen.

We love you so much and we can't wait to meet you. In four short weeks, we all set out on a journey together. I hope it's the first of many things we do together.

-Dad-

p.s. that creature crawling around annoying everyone is Sandy. If you ignore her long enough, she will go away. :)

Books and a Maherajah

I've highlighted several dads over the course of my blog--and each of them possess many qualities that I would like to have as a father--in six weeks...by the way...six weeks.

Of course, the dad that I have learned the most from is my very own dad. The dad I've sat and observed for 29 years is my very own dad. It's a cliche, but if I am half the dad he has been, I will consider myself successful.

I had never heard of a Maherajah water ski before until a couple of weeks ago. I don't do much boating and if you've ever seen me water ski you know I don't do much water skiing.

Editors Note: Ryan Thomas of the Orem 3rd Ward once told me that he never failed at getting someone up on water skis. He tried for about 45 minutes with me once when I was 14 and I never did get up and going. I'm pretty sure it's the only thing he's failed at. 


Clearly the water skiing gene has skipped a generation because from what I understand, my dad was quite the water skier. I've heard accounts of him rocking a slalom ski behind the boat on Lake Wildwood in Northern California. I've heard relatives say how great he looked on a water ski. He's a modest, humble man, and even he would admit that he was pretty good on a ski...so I know it's true.

But why, you may ask, have I never seen him water ski? Enter the Maherajah slalom ski that I recently learned about. Two weeks ago my dad and I flew to the Santa Rosa area to help my Aunt move. As we were moving some of her stuff to a storage unit, I saw my dad's eyes light up as he grabbed a beautiful Maherajah slalom ski from the shed area. We were moving things quick and were making some serious progress, but we took the time to admire the ski (pretty much exactly like the one pictured here, from the exotic line of skis...for whatever reason, that's the style).

I asked my dad about the ski and he told me that he used to have one just like it. I thought he was imagining some of the rides on that ski and so I asked him whatever happened to it. As he was carrying the ski to the moving truck, he told me that he sold it once we moved to Provo from Sacramento (when I was about four years old).

Curious, I asked why he sold it. He casually told me that he needed books while he was in college. I don't remember the exact price that he sold it for, but I know it was far less than what it was worth. And I know that it was far less than what the joy he must have experienced while riding it was worth.

However, like he always has had, his long-term vision proved correct. I think that given the opportunity to sell the ski a hundred more times in order to pay for books or help pay for tuition, he'd do it a hundred times out of a hundred.

He had greater things in mind. He had my sisters and me in mind. He had our futures in mind. He knew that long-term, WE needed an educated and employable dad more than HE needed a Maherajah slalom ski. I asked him about other things that he sold...and there were many other things on the list of items that helped my dad graduate and helped my sisters, mom, and me to ultimately have the life we have.

My dad has always had us in mind. I want to be that type of dad. I want to have that type of long-term vision and foresight.

When I think it can't get better, I think that throughout the entire experience of selling his stuff for school, my mom was right by his side. I don't know if they always agreed on everything--I would assume that they are a normal couple and didn't, but I know that they always showed solidarity.

I hope that Annie and I can have that type of solidarity. I hope that, as a father, I can possess some of the qualities that my own dad possesses.

But first, I need to learn to water ski.

52 Years Ago

Today (April 24) is my mom's birthday...she's 52 years young and like I told her, 52 is the new 51, so all is well!

As I was thinking about it, I realized that I have been with my mom for all of her birthdays since 1983--with the exception of 2003 and 2004 where I celebrated her birthday from some tiny towns in the Northwest.

I also got to thinking about a Mother's Day tradition we have (which I'm sure a lot of people do as well) where we write my mom a letter each Mother's Day. These letters have evolved over the years as I've come to realize exactly what it is my mom has done for me.

I've realized all this after watching little Annie go through the pains and sicknesses associated with pregnancy.

And just like I will forever be grateful to Annie for her courage and toughness and resiliency in our baby's pregnancy, I will never be able to thank my mom enough for all of her courage, toughness, and resiliency in handling my pregnancy.

My mom, pictured here carrying a much heavier me on her back, carried me for nine months plus 11 days back in 1982-83--and despite me weighing in at over 230 at the time of this picture, I think those nine months were even tougher.

Editors Note: I'm trying to think of my earliest memory of my mom...but this American Dad episode is killing me! hahaha. So funny! I must tune it out though...


My earliest memory of my mom is faded and vague, but timeless at the same time. While I don't remember the details, I do remember sitting on her lap on our couch in California while she scratched my arm (or as I called it and still call it "itchied") while I fell asleep. I don't remember anything else about that, but I clearly remember this occurrence...and I know it happened a myriad of times growing up.

Editors Note: It would be bereft to the story to not mention that Annie still frequently itchies my arm while I fall asleep...


My mom was Class Clown at her high school...class of 1978. I was Class Clown of my high school...class of 2001. But we share a much deeper bond.

I know I've taken her for granted at times, but I also know that I wouldn't be anything without her. So, for that, I'll forever be grateful that 52 years ago my Ma (Edith Marae Kuehnau) delivered my mom and set the stage for my existence.

If all moms loved their children like my mom loves hers, I know there would be less problems in the world.

Four Stages

Editors Note: I love my Mother-in-law very much and all of my in-laws. Nothing written below should put that in question...just clearing that up. I love her and think the world of her. I text her on her birthdays and hug her when I see her...she's great. This was the only cartoon I could find though that talked about my exiting stage process. I love her.


Since joining the Strong family (Annie's side of the family) I've noticed something.

And, after I conducted years of research and observation on the something, I came to the conclusion that this something--leaving her parents house or a family party or even trying to leave my parents house or family events--involves four stages.

Our four stage process goes as follows:

Stage 1 - The Initiation: At this stage Annie looks at me and gives me the "it's time to go, are you ready?" look. In the early stages of my study, I would get up immediatly and head for the door thinking we were leaving. In the latter stages of my study, I realized that this stage, The Initiation, was only the first of a four stage process. Annie doesn't literally mean it's time to go in Stage 1...all she means is it's time to say that it's time to go. So, now I stay seated through Stage 1.

Stage 2 - The Door: At this stage, the exiting moves from the couches or tables to the door we will be leaving out of. However, we aren't quite ready to exit the door. Rather, we stand at the door while brand new topics are introduced for discussion. This stage can last anywhere from five minutes to 35 minutes. It's my least favorite stage because it hurts my legs to just stand in one place...but I can't sit down because sitting down from Stage 2 automatically sends you back to Stage 1...once one person in Stage 2 sits, the entire group sits and we all move back to Stage 1 collectively.

Stage 3 - Opening the Door: This stage can be great, but it can also be brutal. You can open the door and think that you are leaving...but in reality, you are only bringing fresh air into Stage 2. It's important not to let yourself get too excited at Stage 3 because it really means nothing...I've seen new topics for conversation come into play in Stage 3, and I've been sent back to Stage 1 all the way from Stage 3.

Stage 4 - Getting in the Car: One would think that this would be the very final stage, and in most cases it is. While there is some lingering from Stage 3 to Stage 4, for the most part, this marks the end of the process and we end up going home. Don't be fooled, though. I've seen a Stage 4 get halted because of a forgotten phone or purse. Whatever you do, don't turn the car off or get out of the car while Annie runs in the house to get the forgotten object--that WILL send you back to a possible Stage 1...which is devastating on the heels of a potential Stage 4 exit.

So, those are the results of my study on the phenomenon of leaving. Again, this happens at most places we go and I know it's not exclusive to Annie...

Now, what does that have to do with pregnancy...I'll tell you.

The other night, at our prenatal class, we watched four birthing videos. We watched a natural birth, an epidural birth, a C-Section, and another natural birth. And when I say we watched the videos, I mean we watched the entire thing...the entire thing.

After watching the videos, I discovered that I could apply a four-stage process to how I was feeling about the videos. Here are my stages:

Stage 1 - Disturbance: I was clearly disturbed by what I was watching in the first video. I was shocked and I was grossed out...all at the same time. I couldn't believe what I was watching and I decided right then and there that I wanted nothing to do with watching anything like that ever again in my life.

Stage 2 - Fictitous Sci-Fi Movie: I began to think about how disturbing and gross the whole process was and it became easier to watch because I found it so disturbing that it felt as if I was watching a Tarantino film. It was so out there that it felt like fiction. It felt like a movie...with actors. I was able to watch the next births because I saw it as a fictitous event and it felt like watching a film.

Stage 3 - Realization: In the words of Eminem, I "snapped back to reality" and realized that these weren't actors and that this wasn't a fictitous film. I realized exactly what was going on. I realized that these were living humans arriving to this world and taking their very first breaths. This was the pride of these two parents arriving. They were seeing their baby for the very first time.

Stage 4 - Acceptance: By the last video, I came to accept the beauty (a term used loosley) of the whole process. I came to accept the incredible event that we were witnessing. I came to accept these little babies. They were gross, but beautiful at the same time. They were adorable. I even got teary-eyed (and not from vomiting).

In conclusion, I equate the pains of child birth with the pains of trying to leave a parent's house or family party with Annie...LOL! Just kidding.

In conclusion, I found the process to be wonderful. I found the excitement shown by the parents to be wonderful. I found this to truly be a miracle. Watching individuals take their first breath was astonishing. I can only imagine that the joy of watching your own child take his/her first breaths is something one will treasure forever.

I know I will.

125,104 Miles

Today I got the oil changed in my wonderful 1999 Saturn. As you can see, I go with M530 motor oil...it's the only thing that keeps the Saturn ticking.

As I got back in my car after the service, I noticed the sticker that the Lube Doc (which, by the way, is better than wherever you go to get your oil changed...so switch) put on my car had the mileage for my next service...125,104.

It also had the date that I would need my next service for the Saturn...June 20, 2012.

12 days after the due date of The News (pictured below the mileage picture)!!

I was so excited to realize that my car won't have new oil until my baby is here...my CAR won't have NEW oil until AFTER my baby is HERE!!

That's such a great thing to think about.

It made the awkward conversation with the Lube Doc folks about my car leaking oil and the windshield wipers not working, a little less awkward.

1+/60%/-2

Editors Note: I drop a swear word in this post. If you don't like it, don't continue reading. I told you this was going to be my thoughts...and today I had a swear word thought. 


Also, notice the dresser below that my dad and I put together last night...we love it!


Today Annie and I attended Prenatal Class...this was week one in what is a two-week crash course on everything there is to know about the actual birthing process...everything.

As I was sitting in the class (and I'll explain my post title momentarily), I was reaching for the words that would best describe how I am feeling.

I thought, "scared to death" doesn't quite explain how I am feeling. "Really scared" didn't quite do it justice either.

Just then, the teacher started talking about poop. She was talking about poop from the baby, the mother, and I even think the doctors poop during the process...from what it sounded like.

I thought, that's it.

The only person not pooping in this process might be me...because I am "scared shitless." :) That term seemed to sum up my feelings.

As she pulled out the needles for an epidural and explained that process and then followed it up with a video showcasing an epidural, the whole process hit me pretty hard.

I know what you're thinking..."you think it's hard on you, at least it's not your body." You're correct on one thing, it's not my body. But I can't do anything about that. I really can't change it.

Our teacher talked about how important it is for the husband to offer the proper type emotional support throughout the process...and that is what really hit me hard.

I hate seeing Annie in pain and I hate watching her go through difficult situations. I remember when she got her wisdom teeth out, and that was so hard to watch her be so uncomfortable. Clearly, I remember the two miscarriages and how brutal those were on her, physically and emotionally.

I certainly hope I was good emotional support during those times...but when it comes to this birthing process, I am scared. I want to be the best emotional support there is...and I hope I can be. (great tips from Dr. Reitzel for the expectant father, lol).

Having never done this before, I have no idea. But from the amount of importance and stress that the teacher put on being a good emotional supporter, I imagine that it's a valuable and important role in the birthing process. Part of being the best emotional supporter I can be is learning the lingo and the terminology.

So here I go...

1+/60%/-2 is an example of what the teacher said some lingo we may hear is. By the way, I hate math and on the surface it reeks of a math equation...but it's not. Phew.

1+ - the dilation of the cervix in centimeters. This is clearly in the beginning stages and en route to being a 10cm dilation. This 1+ dilation comes as part of the latent stage of labor (which by the way has nothing to do with the contractions and everything to do with the cervix).

60% - This is the effacement of the cervix, I believe. Editors note: I asked the teacher for a copy of her slides so that I can review the material, I may be off on some of this, please, all you mothers, correct me if I am. This has a lot to do with the thickness of something...crap, now I can't remember and I don't want to Google it.

-2 - This is where you are...I believe the correct terminology is -2 station...it basically is an indicator on the positioning of the baby in proximity to the cervix...I think.

It was an intense class...and it was only week 1. I caught a glimpse of her outline for next week's lesson and it involves watching a birth...and I am assuming that we will be watching it from the doctor's point of view...

And I'm assuming that I may still be scared shitless after watching...but I may not have time to think about that fear because I'll be drowning in my own vomit.

What a beautiful, natural thing this birth is.