College Years: Part 1

Since I was about 14 years old, I had always dreamed of going to BYU-Hawaii. As a family, we went to Hawaii on vacation, and being the hormonal, boy-chasing teenager that I was, saw all those beautiful men over there. Hahaha! We visited the campus for church one Sunday, and also the Laie temple, which is GORGEOUS! From then on, I was sold. I bought the picture of the Laie temple and put it in my room. I hoped I would be accepted one day. But then, as I became older and heard of how many people did not get accepted into there, I tried to be realistic about the situation. I decided I would probably end up going to BYU Provo in the end, which is a very nice school as well.

I prepared myself, and got ahead, for my entrance into college by taking some college courses while still in high school. My high school had a program that made it possible to attend nearby college classes, at a discounted rate, and get both high school and college credit for my work. I took classes at Northern Kentucky University as well as Thomas More College, in separate semesters. In addition, I took AP Calculus, which, upon passing the AP test at the end of the year, counts toward college credit as well. By the end of my Senior year of high school, I had about 33 credits, I believe, which put me already at a Sophomore level in college.

When it was time to apply for colleges, I applied for BYU Provo, BYU Hawaii, Utah Valley University, and Utah State. After hearing all of the stories how many people didn't get into BYU-Hawaii, I wasn't actually sure if I should apply, but thought I would anyway, for kicks.

When I checked for an online result of my application (after checking multiple times), I saw that I had been accepted into BYU-Hawaii! I could not contain my excitement as my eyes filled with tears. I told my mom, and she started crying as well. When I prayed about if that was the best choice to attend college, I felt very confident that it was the college for me.

Over the summer after my senior year, I visited my sister, Jenny, who was living and attending BYU-Idaho with her husband and son at the time. I stayed at their place and enjoyed every minute of it. I loved the feeling of the Spirit that was on that campus. I loved the people there, and the students I had met. I decided I would defer my BYU-Hawaii admission until the Fall Semester (I was supposed to start mid-summer, a.k.a. First Term, there) and give BYU-Idaho a chance for the Summer. It was a blast! I met some amazing friends, including Tiffany, Savannah, and Beatriz. We had so much fun together just acting crazy and attending classes together, other than my random bout of bronchitis during the term.

Rexburg, Idaho Temple (It's so much bigger than what I was used to, which was the Louisville, KY Temple!)

At Mesa Falls

At Yellowstone National Park- we were trying to smile, despite the smelly, hot gas coming from the earth

With my nephew, who was 18 months old at the time.

But, that summer came and went quickly, and before I knew it, it was time to leave for BYU-Hawaii. I has heartbroken to leave my best friends, but in my heart, I knew BYU-Hawaii was where I was meant to go. So, with my mom flying along to help me, I packed up my bags and headed for Hawaii.

High School Senior Year- Family vs. Soccer

After my car accident, I changed a lot, and so did most of my circle of friends.  But, mostly, my testimony changed. My attitude changed.

I saw how fragile life could be. I saw how one split second could change everything. I saw how most of my friends would come and go, but there are a select few who will stick it out with you, and family will always be there for you.

Before my senior year, I had a choice to make. It was going to be my last summer before I would head off to college. I could either spend a summer training and doing conditioning for my senior year on the soccer team, or I could take a trip with my dad to the airshow in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. We had been going to that airshow for years and years, but despite all the drama with my soccer team, I still wanted to play in my senior year. I sent the coach an e-mail describing my situation, and asked if I could take a week or so off from the conditioning so I could make this important trip with my Dad. I don't remember exactly what he said in his reply, but it was something along the lines of "you either come to practice, or don't come at all." Yeah, that sure made me feel like a valued team member. So, I decided to take the trip with my dad and give up my spot on the soccer team. I am so glad I made that decision. We had a fantastic time together, and I think it really helped me and my dad bond even more. Also, I think it showed my dad how much I really care for him. Through that experience, I learned that family is what is important in the end. After high school, it wouldn't really matter so much if I played soccer my senior year or not. It's not like I was good enough to get any scholarship from it, anyway. Family- that is what matters. Families are eternal. Soccer is just something fun on the side.

In my Junior year on the soccer team.

I got to sit in a Goodyear blimp in Oshkosh! How many people can say that?!

High School Years (Part 4)

This post is in continuation of my Personal History challenge that I've been trying to follow for 2014.

In my Junior Year, I was in my first (and only so far... knock on wood) car accident. I know it sounds cliché, but that experience truly changed my life- for the better.

I was working at Wendy's at the time, and I actually had the night off. A new employee asked if I could work for him that night, and I agreed, thinking I was doing him a nice favor. Work was fine, and after my shift was over, I drove next door to the UDF (United Dairy Farmers- yes, that's a name of a legit company, with oh-so-heavenly ice cream. That's beside the point) to fill up my car with gas. When gathering my money to pay, I had less money in my wallet than expected, and scrambled all around my car for any spare change I could muster up to pay the balance. Finally, after getting some weird looks from the cashier inside, who was probably wondering why it was taking me so long to get my money together and come inside to pay, I find enough money and pay my balance. Feeling embarrassed and frazzled, I quickly left the gas station in hopes of getting home soon and changing out of my greasy clothes.

I approached the stoplight by the corner of the gas station, and my mind entered "automatic" mode. Usually the light turns green as I approach it, but this time it didn't, and my brain didn't register that. I kept driving on through the intersection, staring blankly at the red light. Then, halfway through the intersection, my brain screamed at me- "THAT'S A RED LIGHT! GET OUT OF HERE!" Knowing I couldn't slam on my brakes, I stepped on the gas and hoped I could clear the intersection. I saw the traffic light for the opposite flow of traffic turn yellow. I turn my head back forward and see my headlights reflecting off something in front of me. I hear a loud pop, and then an unidentifiable, piercing scream, then an odd silence amongst the loud stereo blasting through my speakers. The lights and world around me stopped spinning. The screaming stopped. I realized, that screaming was... me? I had never heard that kind of sound release from my mouth- my soul before. My nose was in extreme pain. Was it broken? What did I hit my nose on?

I stepped out of the car in disbelief to see the damage. I was in such a state of shock that the thought of standing in the middle of that intersection, amidst oncoming traffic did not cross even my mind. I saw my dad's car- the hood crumpled to the point of almost reaching the windshield. Pieces of the car body split and hanging from both the front left and back right sides. Then I realized there was another car stranded in the intersection. I had hit someone, another car, a minivan. Through the crisp night darkness, I can see shadows in the minivan moving. The minivan has a dent and a flat tire, but I was worried of the damage I may have done to the passengers of the van. I saw a woman. In that backseat, I saw children. Oh, no! Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. I What have I done?! Did I hurt them? The mother is going to kill me! She will sue me! My dad?! Oh, my dad is going to kill me! This is his car! He's going to be so mad! She's going to sue me, she's going to sue me, she's going to sue me!

After what seemed like ages, the mother stepped out of the car and walked toward me. My mind continued to race.
I blurted, "Please don't sue me! Please don't sue me!"
She calmly spoke, "Are you okay? Me and my kids are fine. I already called the police. They're on their way. No, no; I'm not going to sue you. Just breathe."

The next moments were a blur, other than having to sit in the back of the police officer's car as crews cleaned up the mess on the road and towed our cars to the side of the road. I remember asking the cop waiting in the front seat if I was a bad person, and saying other fearful thoughts that were racing throughout my mind.

My mom was out of town, so I could not contact her to come pick me up. Fearful of my dad's reaction, I asked the police officer to call him. I knew my dad had been working on a trip and was due to come back home that night sometime. When he showed up, I sobbed hysterically in his arms, "I'm so sorry, Dad! Your car is ruined! Please don't hate me!"
He held me tight and said, "Cars you replace. I'm just glad you're okay."

The husband of the woman who was driving the minivan showed up to pick up his family. After checking on them and speaking to the police, he walked over to me. He must hate me. I did this to his family.

He spoke warmly, "My wife is fine. My kids are fine. My wife and I are more concerned about YOU. Are YOU okay?"
Baffled at his unselfish remarks, I could not comprehend what to say. Then, he uttered the words I'll never forget: "Can I  say a prayer for you, with you?'

Although I cannot remember the exact words that he spoke, I will never forget the feelings of forgiveness and love that washed over me at that point. What an incredible person and Christ-like love it must have taken to not only forgive me, but to feel sorry for me, and worry about my physical, mental, and spiritual well-being.

This was the moment I stopped yelling in my mind at my Heavenly Father, "Why me?!" This was the moment I started counting the miracles and blessings from this trial that changed my whole outlook on life

I had come up with enough cash to pay for my gas, when I thought it was impossible to find enough change in my car to do so.
I had survived this crash with no injuries (my nose hurting was from the airbag, and stopped aching after a little while).
The passengers of the other car were not seriously injured, either.
No one had to go to the hospital.
The other driver did not hate me, nor sue me.
She remained calm in the situation while I was having a panic attack and hyperventilating.
I did not get a ticket/fine for causing the accident, and only received a warning.
My dad had just finished his trip, where he had been out of town for several days, that night. So, he was home and in town to be there for me.
My dad was not upset about his totaled car; he was worried that I was all right.
The husband of the other driver and his wife were filled with feelings of concern and forgiveness for me- a complete stranger. A teenager, of all people.
The husband of the other driver was inspired and courageous enough to follow the prompting he felt to ask me if he could say a prayer right there, for me. He was not of my same faith, and it didn't matter. It still doesn't matter. We are both children of God, and in that moment, he was the messenger that told me the insurmountable love God has for me.

Even though that car accident was the scariest moment of my life to date, I do not regret that moment happening to me. In fact, I am extremely grateful for it.

God was watching over me during that car accident. I learned that God always watches over me. He never abandons me. Yes, He allows me to experience pain and trials and feel that the world is grossly unfair, yet He STILL blesses me through it all.

High School Years (Part 3)

This post is in continuation of my Personal History challenge that I'm working on, where I record my own personal history in order to share it with my family and friends in both the present and the future.

High school was a roller coaster. In 9th grade, the most I remember was just trying to figure everything out and how I fit in the picture. There were lots of people I did not know, and a lot of my friends from Middle School were in other classes. At that age, we were at the bottom of the totem pole, so to speak. We were the youngest of the high schoolers, and I tried to just not get run over in the hallways most of the time. I was in Choir that year, but when my other required classes conflicted with my schedule, I didn't take any more classes after that grade.

In 10th grade, I gathered up enough courage to try out for the soccer team. There was a new coach, who also used to be my 9th grade teacher, and he decided that instead of cutting people from the team after "tryouts," he would just put the not-the-best playing girls in a sort of "second-rate, backup team." Yeah, I was on that team. I was among the bench-warmers, who barely lifted my sorry butt off the bench unless our team had an enormous lead over our opponents, or in the unlikely case that all the players that were (supposedly) better than me all became seriously injured. And I mean, incapable of walking, kind of injured. *Phew* Okay, I really need to not work myself up about it. I honestly was not close to being among the best players on the team. After not playing soccer for about 4 years, I was a lot slower than most of the girls, and didn't know most of the tricks that many of the girls knew. On top of that, my whole soccer career up to that point, I had always played left full-back. My high school coach always insisted on putting me on some random offense position, because "we had plenty of good defense girls." Playing defense all your life and then all of the sudden being thrown into the front lines of offense is like stepping into a whole, another world.  *Sigh* It just... hurt... to feel like I had no real value to the team. As if I stopped going to practices and games, it would probably relieve more people than concern them... Okay, *end rant.*

Nonetheless, I still stuck with it on through my Junior year as well, and I even made it on the "Varsity" team that year, even though I was still warming up the Varsity team bench most of the time. I stayed on that team only for my love of the game, and for the friends I made on that team. I met and became good friends with Andrea, Chelsea, Sarah, and Erika.

To this day, the only one of those friendships that truly lasted, and even got stronger, through the years, was my friendship with Erika. We met when she needed a ride to our team pictures and I offered to pick her up. It was super awkward in the car at first, because we didn't really know each other at all. But, for some reason, after that, we hit it off. I spent many days hanging out and having sleepovers at her place. She slept over and hung out at my place, too, and pretty much every time she came to my house, she tried some kind of food she had never tasted before. Let's just say my family is a little bit more adventurous when it comes to fruits and vegetables, haha. My family didn't always stick with the normal apples and carrots, we also loved things like asparagus, peaches, etc. Yeah, real exotic, right? I still remember Erika's face when she tried a peach for the first time at my apartment. Let's just say she's not a fan of the fuzzy peel on the outside. Hey, props to her for trying it, at least!

Throughout soccer, she was my support that kept me coming to practices and games. She didn't care so much that I wasn't as good at soccer. Of all the drama and politics involved in that soccer team, she didn't care about all of that. She made me feel important, even if I wasn't one of the coach's "favorite, star players."

Yup, that's us... in all our teenage glory- as borritos.

Erika is so fun to hang out with. Whether it was the millionth trip to Taco Bell, jammin' and dancing crazy at a dance (or especially in our cars), having a thousand near-accident experiences when we're both in the same car, or having the ugliest cries of our lives over the phone, she was there for me. Heck, she even dressed up like a burrito with me so we could get free burritos from Chipotle on Halloween! We were there for each other during the biggest heartbreaks, trash talking the other person, even if we didn't know exactly what the other person was saying or crying about. I even tried (and failed) to switch high schools to attend the same one as her, when the boundaries changed right before my senior year. She even found a blind date for me to get me into her school's prom. I even call her mom, "Mom," and vice versa. Even when I went off to college and was busy with my new life out there, she didn't give up on me or our friendship. She still contacted me and made sure I was doing all right. She was my bridesmaid/maid of honor. She gave the most beautiful, sweet, heartfelt speech at my wedding reception, and made me bawl my eyes out. I was her bridesmaid/matron of honor at her wedding. My speech was, well, not as good as hers. Perhaps because people could hardly understand me through all my blubbering. Hahaha. She made plans for more than a year to save money, conspire with my husband about her plans, threaten my husband if he ever opened his mouth to me about her plans, fly out to Utah, and surprise me one random day after a dentist appointment. She practically adopted my children as her own niece and nephew, and spoils them rotten until she's broke. She worries about their health, happiness, and well-being almost as much as I do. She knows how important my faith is to me and my family, and respects me for it. She is patient with me even when life gets crazy and I'm not the best at calling, texting, or messaging her. I can act like myself around her. She is an extremely dedicated person. She is strong, and comes back up from trials in her life even stronger. She knows how to break it down with me when the right song comes on. Erika is extremely loving, caring, and all about respect. She knows when to tell me when I'm going a little too past the crazy boundaries. She is working hard to achieve her Vet Tech degree, and has an immense love for animals. She's caring and determined enough to even go vegetarian most of the time. I really look up to her strength, sense of humor, hard work, dedication, and love for others' well-being. I love her as my best friend, and I'm so glad she's in my life to help support me and get me through both the bad times and the good. I would definitely not be the same person I am today without her. (:

In our stunna shades: PEACE, dawg. She brings out my inner black woman.

Middle School/High School Years (Part 2)

This is part of my Personal History series of blog posts.

I attended Conner Middle School. It (as well as my high school, Conner High School) was only a 10 minute drive or so from my house.

I don't really look at my middle school years with too much fondness, other than some of the friends I had, as probably most people feel the same way. Middle school is compiled of those awkward years of ages 11-14, where everyone tries to be "cool," make new friends, and sometimes dump old friends in the process. It is a time where the body is changing and struggling between being half-kid and half-adult. It was a time of a lot of self-consciousness for me, and looking back, I think it was for most of my peers as well.

My favorite subjects continued to be Math and a little bit of Science, but I didn't normally admit that anymore, since liking those subjects didn't seem "cool." I also found a love and curiosity for art. I was not really good at all, but I just found it interesting and nice to do something different than busywork. I was in band for a little while, and played percussion, mostly the marimba and chimes. The boys in the class always took over the drums and cymbals before us girls had the chance to try them out.

In 8th grade, I made it on the dance team. I originally wanted to try out for the cheerleading team, since I had a little experience when I was younger with gymnastics. I ended up not trying out for that team, though, because I felt the girls had much more experience than me. Also, because I was so petite for my age, my mom was afraid they would make me a "flyer" (the one they toss up in the air and who ends up on the top of the pyramids, mostly). We personally knew a girl who was a "flyer" and had been dropped during practice, nearly causing her to be paralyzed. That pretty much scared my mom enough, and then me, to not try out for cheerleading. So, the next closest thing was to try out for the dance team. That was a lot of fun for me, as I loved dancing. I still love dancing to this day, yet lately it's been hard to find the energy to bust a move. The only hard thing was I was not the best on the team, so I felt like the other girls didn't really want me there. They all had had professional dancing experience for most of their lives, while I was more of a "freestyler." In that sense of the word, I just had fun dancing to the radio and making up my own moves, haha.

My good friends in those years were mostly Jessica, Jade, Aary, Ashley, DeNae, and Melanie.

My closest friends to this day from these girls (in which the friendships lasted from Middle School years to the present) are Jade and Aary.

I think I met Jade in Mrs. Petersime's algebra class. I don't even remember how we became friends after that. I'm pretty sure we did some projects for that class together, though. Jade is such a sweet girl. She is very selfless. I've seen her on multiple occasions give up some of the things she wanted in order to make someone else happy, or someone else's life easier. She is a great listener. She has such a fun personality with a great sense of humor. She is someone I could be totally weird and silly with, and she would just laugh and be silly too. She stuck with me as one of my best friends both before and after having my car accident in high school. She had just had a car accident the week earlier, and so she really understood how I was feeling and what I was going through. Most of my other friends seem to not care how emotionally traumatic was for me to have experienced that, but Jade knew. She helped me feel so much better, stuck by my side, and defended me when my other "friends" were teasing me about getting into a car wreck, and totaling my car. We ended up taking a lot of math classes together especially, even in high school. She was awesome at math, too. I remember her spending days and sleepovers at my house, and vice versa. She was one of my buddies at dances, and we would dance crazy all night. She was still my friend when it was "cool" for most of our other friends to just hang out and drink, even when I was eventually not invited because I would always turn down their invite if I knew my other friends were going to be drinking. She is still friends with me, despite my flaws. I can always be myself around her. She was also so excited for me to attend BYU-Hawaii, because she knew how much I had dreamed of going, despite it meaning I was moving thousands of miles away. She was even one of my bridesmaids at my wedding. She is an extremely hard worker. She endured through extremely difficult courses, graduated from UK, and passed the exam in order to be her dream, a R.N.  We may not always keep in touch that often, but I still love her as my friend, and I'm so proud of what she has accomplished so far in her life.

Jade and I at a dance.

I became really good friends with Aary around 8th grade when she had an "end of the year" party/sleepover. We were in the same math class, and I remember passing a lot of funny notes in class a lot. We became really close, and even more so in my high school years. I spent many days and sleepovers at her place. I spent so much time there, I started to call her mom, "Mom." We were both boy crazy, like, to the extreme. She still had me beat by having many more boyfriends than I ever had, and we had lots of fun acting crazy and talking about boys most of the time. She was big into dancing pretty much the whole time in our school years that we were friends. She eventually made it into the top class at her studio, and had won several awards both personally and with her team. But, just because she was a dancer, don't think she was the type of person that acted dainty and soft, haha! We would have burping contests, dancing contests, and even wrestling contests. We were always competitive against each other, always in good fun, of mostly everything: boys, grades, you name it. She was also my buddy at dances that would break out her moves on the dance floor with me. Some of our friends even started calling us the "Uh-Oh Oreos," meaning we're white on the outside, but we are practically black on the inside, especially when it came to dancing. We didn't mean it in a racist way at all. From those I've met, I think most people would agree that most black people are naturally better dancers than the majority of white people. Aary and I could just feel the beat and know how to move to it. She is such a crack up. We would always be crazy and silly together, maybe even to the point that it freaked people out, but we didn't care. It was actually more fun if we got weird reactions from people because we knew how crazy we were acting. On the other side, Aary is also a great listener. She was there through some very hard break-ups. She helped my self-confidence grow tremendously by always making me feel valued as her friend. She is friends with my true self, and all the craziness that comes along with it. I don't have to act like someone else around her. She's an extremely hard worker. She graduated from EKU and even went on an internship in Costa Rica to study primates. Now she's working with many wild animals (and kids, haha) at an outdoor education center. She seems to really love her job right now. I love her as a friend, and I cherish our friendship. I might not always do the best to keep in touch with her, but I know our friendship will last over time because of the bond we had in school.

Aary and I on one of our last days as Seniors.

Elementary/Middle School Years (Part 1)

This is in continuation of my Personal History Challenge.

I went to Burlington Elementary School. I would say the teacher I ended being closest with was Mrs. Troutt. She was my 4th grade teacher. It's not as though she taught my favorite subject. In fact, she taught one of my least favorite subjects- English. She was my "home" teacher, meaning that's the classroom I was in for times other than the normal class subject times, such as the beginning of the day, end of the day, etc. I loved her because she really made me believe in myself. I hated writing, but she gave me confidence that what I wrote was worth while. She definitely wasn't an easy grader when it came to our writing portfolios (required by the state to write a certain number of papers for that year). She wasn't afraid to challenge me. I had to work really, really hard for the good grades. But, in the end, it pushed me to be a better writer after that. Now, I'm not saying I'm an excellent writer now. But, the fact that she made me feel my thoughts were/are worth while probably even helped me have the confidence to start this blog in the first place.

In addition to my friends Lydia and Michelle, that I mentioned in the previous post, my other friends throughout elementary school were Alicia, Ashley, April, Morgan, Stacee, Jackie, Tiffany, and Lesilee.

During those years, I found a love for gymnastics. I went to classes with Alicia. We had a ton of fun. I even had a birthday party once at the gymnastics gym. The teachers seemed to have great confidence in me, and kept moving me to higher levels. But, living in a family of 6 kids, money was pretty tight, and as the monthly fee to take the classes became too high, I had to stop going. It was devastating at first, but then that's when I decided to move on to another sport- soccer.

I started soccer when I was about 8, I believe. Our recreational team was called the Stars, or something like that. I have honestly never been "awesome" at soccer, but I loved the sport! I played left full-back pretty much the majority of my soccer-playing years. I just loved the idea of being on defense, where the other team would be rushing down the field at me, and then I would kick the ball away as far as I could and help save us from being scored on. I played up until the 7th grade, where then my friends on the team were either going to Club teams or working to try out for the high school team. Even though I quit then, I still missed playing soccer a lot. Finally, I got the nerve to start an indoor soccer team for a little while. There was both girls and boys on the team, and I was actually the oldest on my team, which was pretty awkward. But, I found great fun in playing indoor soccer. It was a lot more fast-paced than outdoor was, but it was especially fun to be able to use the walls to help bounce the ball around your opponent.

After that, in 10th grade, I got the nerve to try out for the high school team. (That's for another post, coming soon about my high school years, though.)

In school, math and science were my favorite subjects. I loved being outdoors learning about how everything worked together. I was pretty good at math, so naturally, that's why I liked it.

At the end of elementary school, my family and I got to go to Europe to see where my brother Carl and my sister Jenny were born and raised for the first few years of their lives. They had lived in Germany because my dad was stationed there in the Army. During that trip, we got to visit Germany, Austria, Italy, and France. Actually, my family (who flew standby) made it all on the flight home, except for my Dad and I. We had to try and fly through France, but got stuck there overnight. We decided to ride the Metro and go to the Eiffel Tower together. It was so much fun, and I remember eating lemon crepes from a food truck/stand right next to the Eiffel Tower. What a wonderful memory.

I was indeed a "Daddy's Girl." Okay, maybe I still am? Everyone knew it. I just seemed to take interest in some of the same things my dad did, so naturally, I liked to hang out with him. He's a pilot, and I learned to love flying. He loves the outdoors, and went with me on a few Science field trips (to Red River Gorge as well as Tennessee). He is a big tease, and I was usually his favorite subject to tease. My dad is such a wonderful example to me. He's such a spiritual giant to me, is very tender-hearted, and has also taught me that a little sense of humor goes a long way.

Our "Daddy-Daughter Dance" at mine and Jonald's wedding reception

Personal History Challenge: Early Childhood

Like I said in my earlier post, I was born and raised in Kentucky. Growing up in that house was fun. What I remember the most would be playing in the yard, playing Barbies with my sisters, and playing with friends, and pedaling bikes, riding scooters (just the kind you push with your foot), and taking walks up and down our street.

Lydia was my first best friend. She lived in a house down the street from me. I remember often walking down the street to go to her house and play, especially on the swing set. It was so fun having a best friend right down the street from me. At first, we went to the same elementary school together as well. We rode the bus together. One of my first memories of us is waiting for the bus to go to Kindergarten. We were both scared and nervous, but excited as well. Later, they moved to a bigger house so they could have more space and own horses. Their new house was not too far down the road, maybe 5-10 minutes. I still came over to their house a good amount after they moved. I loved playing with their dogs, cats, and bunny, as well as feeding, petting, and riding their horses. Over time, life has caught up with us, but I still enjoy catching up every now and then with this sweet girl. She has such a good sense of humor that I love to see through her Facebook posts and pictures.

I feel like a house is so much more fun growing up when you have pets. I, myself had a yellow pet parakeet named Tickles. At one time, we had 3 cats, a dog, 2 parakeets, a hamster, and fish. My sister had a bunny at one time as well. The cats names were Stripes (black,brown, and tan stripes), Cotton (all white), and Sage (all grey). Our dog was a cocker spaniel named Lady. She had golden fur and looked like Lady from Lady and the Tramp, but we named her that before the movie came out. I remember we were so excited when that movie came out, though. I don't remember any names for the bunny, hamster, or the fish. The parakeets were named Joice (green, yellow, and white, with a blue tail) and Tickles (all yellow except for blue dots on his cheeks).

My sister Jenny got Tickles for me for my 8th birthday, I believe. I named him that because of the way his feet tickled my me when he would walk on my arm. He was a fun bird to have, but he was sure loud and messy. He liked to wake up really early in the morning and tweet like crazy. He also enjoyed going to the bottom of the cage and flapping his wings, causing feathers, seeds, and poo to fly all over the place. I liked holding him, but more than that I liked closing my door to our room and letting him fly around. His wings were clipped initially when we got him, but I didn't have the heart to have them clipped after that. I thought it would make him sad, or hurt him, and I thought birds were meant to fly, so his wings stayed un-clipped from then on.

My little buddy, Tickles

One day, the window was cracked open to let in a little air, and Tickles climbed out the window, up the screen, and flew out the corner of the screen that was detached. I thought he was long gone, so my mom took me to the pet store to get another bird. My favorite lunch lady at school was named Joice, so that is where I got the name for my bird. Funny how kids get their names for pets, huh?

When we got home, I saw Carl, my brother, outside. He had spotted tickles in a nearby tree. After chasing him around the neighborhood a bit, Carl finally caught him in the lilac tree next to our porch. So, that's how we ended up with two birds. To make it fair, since Renee didn't have her own pet yet, we agreed Joice would be hers, since I still had Tickles.

In the 1st grade, I made my second best friend, Michelle. I actually don't remember how we met or became friends in the first place. (My "mommy" brain has gotten the best of my memory these days. I guess it's a good thing I'm typing these things up sooner than later, before my memory gets any worse, haha!) I think we were in the same class, with Mrs. Owen. What I do remember is that once we became friends, we were pretty much inseparable for a good number of years. We both have a love for animals, and I remember both of us collecting Beanie Babies and showing each other which ones we had. We both loved the cats, especially. I remember her saying how much she wanted to be a veterinarian when she grows up, and that's exactly what she's working on and going to school for today. Talk about being determined and following your dreams! I think she's the only one I know who actually is going to end up doing and being what she wanted to be as a kid. The rest of us crazy people, including me, have changed our minds a billion times before we come up with something we figure we'll stick with.

I remember I got her and I butterfly, mood-color-changing, best friend necklaces. I still have that necklace in my stash of old jewelry somewhere. Even though it looks pretty old by now and it's not something that's in my fashion sense that I would wear these days, but I can't part with it because it has too many good memories attached to it. Although our friendship has become closer, more distant, closer again, more distant, etc. over time, I still love seeing updates of her life online and getting to chat every now and then. She's a great, sweet, hardworking, funny girl, and I hope we can continue to catch up with each other, every now and then, over time and just stay in touch.

My Birth Story (As told by my mother)

Guess who this cute lookin' baby is...

 As part of working on my personal history challenge, I asked my own mother to give her account of my birth story (a.k.a. what it was like when she was pregnant and gave birth to me).

Here is her account:

This is why you should keep a journal.

I'll tell you what I can remember.

When I was pregnant with you Dad was almost ready to "retire" from the Army.  We were living in North Carolina.  We lived at 24 Hunt Street, Ft. Bragg, NC.  When you retire from the military it means it is time to get a new job, so Dad started looking for airlines that were hiring.  We didn't have an answering machine and Dad talked me in to getting one.  He said if the airline called you back, and you didn't answer, they would move on to the next one on the list.  He went to interview for Comair, and before he even got back to NC he was offered the job.  So, it was time to pack up and move to Burlington, Kentucky.

We packed up our household goods and  3 kids.  Carl was 7,  Jenny was 4, and Laura just turned 2 and I was 6 months pregnant with you.  Dad started his new job July 2, 1990.  Luckily the military came and moved out our household goods.

What I remember most about being pregnant with you was that I had morning sickness almost every morning.  If I ate a soda crackers it helped.  I was very blessed because I never threw up.  I had known many ladies who were very sick when they were pregnant, some that had to be hospitalized from dehydration.  I did think I would never eat another soda cracker after you were born.  Always thought it was funny how much you love soda crackers.

When people found out I was pregnant, they kept saying, "Bet you want another boy.", since we already had 2 girls.  I told them, "No, I really want another girl.  I kni what to do with girls,"

 We drove 2 cars to Kentucky.  Dad drove the Mercedes we bought when we lived in Germany and I drove the Volvo station wagon.  We kept looking for hospitals all the way to Kentucky, just in case I went into labor,  especially since Jenny came 2 weeks early and Laura came 3 weeks early.

 Dad got a "crash pad" with some other pilots.   He drove me to Oklahoma where we visited Kathleen's family and met Carla.  Carla drove with me to Utah  to visit Grandma, since I was pregnant and had 3 little kids.   In August Dad came to Utah and we drove back to Kentucky and moved into the crash pad until could get into our house on Labor Day.  Our new address was 2955 Fawn Drive, Burlington, Kentucky 41005.

We unloaded our household goods and were hanging pictures when I went in to labor.  Grandma and Grandpa were there to help.  I kept sitting down to stop the contractions.  Hoping I could get all the pictures hung before you were born, because I knew I wouldn't have much time afterwards.

Finally we decided we better get to the hospital.  Didn't have

I had always wanted to name a girl Alisha, in fact one of my dolls was named Alisha.  Tried to name Jenny Alisha, Dad said "no". Tried to name Laura Alisha.  Dad said no.   Finally he agreed, if we could spell it with an E.

It was tricky trying to keep Carl, Jen and Laura quiet in the crash pad when the other pilots were there, so we wouldn't bother them.  Taking the laundry up and down the stairs and over to another building to do laundry being pregnant with 3 little kids was not easy.

The first time we went to church in Kentucky was at the Buttermilk Pike Building.  We drove up in the Volvo and the back was stacked to the top with clothes, toys, ect.  Sister Rhodus saw us and said she just kept seeing more and more kids come out of the car, then she saw me get out and knew I was pregnant.  She said all she could think was, "Oh, that poor lady".  I am guessing Dad was working, since most of the new pilots had to work Sundays.   We were just glad he had a job that he liked and we were soon going to be in a house.

I was standing on a chair, hanging the picture in the dining room when I decided we couldn't wait any longer.  Didn't have to wait too long once we got to St. Luke Hospital in Ft. Mitchell, Kentucky.   After you were born the hospital gave the new moms and dads steak dinner with goblets for grape juice.  They have St. Luke birthing center written on them.

Since I did not know if you were the last one, I loved holding you and rocking you in the rocking chair in the "lilac" bedroom.  Often wondered if you would love horses, since I could see the horses running outside the window.  Guess Renee is the one that inherited the love for horses.

  As you have heard for years, you did not like anyone else to hold you.   If they did you would scream.  Once we got Jana Fry to babysit you while we went to a teacher appreciation dinner for Carl and his teacher.  Jana had the reputation for being the best babysitter in the ward.  She loved kids and wanted to own her own preschool.   In the middle of dinner she called and said you were "screaming your head off". And she had tried everything she knew to get you to stop, even taken you for walks outside.  We left early.

 Once I was taking Laura to preschool and you had just fallen asleep, so I left you with Dad.  When I got back he said you woke up right after I left and you had screamed for about 50 min.  He told me to never leave you again.  You were 2 years old when we were finally able to leave you with a babysitter.  Once you asked me if I thought you would be a bad teenager.  I told you "No, we have already paid our dues when you were a baby." I was right.  You were a great kid, teenager, young lady and student, maybe a bit of a drama queen, but a great kid.

When you were very young I took you to the doctor.  He took all the usual measurements.  He was worried about your head being too big.  He was concerned about hydrocephalus.  I was not worried, since I knew many of the Ogdens had large heads and I always had to get the large hats.  He said we had to do an EKG ??????.  I was really worried and scared,  since you wouldn't let anyone else hold you and you had to be put in a "tunnel" to get the scan.  They said if you didn't hold still they would have to put you under.  I felt that was very dangerous for a baby so little.  Dad gave you a Priesthood blessing and I prayed a lot about that scan that you would hold still.  We got to the hospital and put you in the "tunnel".  You held perfectly still.  Prayers were answered again.

Soon you started to have a head full of curls.  You looked a lot like Jenny when she was a baby.  Almost every time I took you out people couldn't resist coming up and running their fingers through your curls.

Oh yeah, what a charmer!

Family Matters... No, really. They matter a LOT.

My family has helped shape me who I am today.

I grew up in a fairly large family, at least compared to the world's standards. There is my Dad, my Mom, and six children. I have two brothers and three sisters. My oldest brother is from my Dad's previous marriage, but he's still my brother, and I don't consider him different than any of my other siblings.

Part of my family that could make it out to our wedding.

I am the second youngest of all these children. Being the second youngest was a good spot for me.  I have the opportunity to be both a younger and older sister. When I was young, I didn't have as many responsibilities as my older siblings, but was still expected to help around the house. I may have had to deal with a lot of hand-me-downs, but I was also lucky that I am the shortest among my family, so many of the hand-me-downs didn't fit and I got to get newer clothes that would fit me better. *Insert evil laugh here.* Just kidding, but really. It wasn't my plan to be so short, but it certainly worked out (occasionally) for my fashion sense's sake. 

Renee, Me, Dad, and Mom visiting the Laie Temple Grounds

My mom is from Utah and my Dad is from Georgia. They met in Colorado, and got married in the Salt Lake Temple. After being in the Army for many years, they had also lived in Germany and North Carolina. Then, after retiring from the Army, my dad found a job as an airline pilot in Kentucky. Soon after moving to Kentucky, I was born. I lived in that home until I had graduated from High School and headed to college.

Kayelee snoozing under the shade of a tree in our backyard.

I love that house in Kentucky. Someday, I hope to have a house with those qualities. Sure, I am probably biased, saying that I was raised in that home. Oh well. It is a wonderful home.

It is a split-level with 3 bedrooms and a basement. Doing the math, you can figure out my siblings and I had to share rooms growing up. I wouldn't trade that for anything. The girls stayed upstairs while my brother had a room downstairs in the basement. By that time, my oldest brother was old enough and living out on his own. I also want my kids to have to share rooms. Now, I not saying it was always peaches and cream sharing a room with one of my sisters, but it forced us to be closer. We created a bond that by sharing rooms and toys, we began to share our hearts. Kids don't need their own "space," their own rooms. More importantly, they need to be close to their siblings.

The backyard on a beautiful summer day, complete with a double rainbow.

The house sits on about an acre and a half. There is ample space between your neighbors, a nice front yard with flowers and a couple of trees, and a big backyard. The backyard had room for our swing set, a trampoline, and many garden boxes.

The grass was cool, green and soft. Not like the itchy sprinkler-watered grass here in Utah. You could sleep on that grass in the shade of a good tree for a while if you wanted to. I loved how we had enough space from our neighbors, and our street was a single street on a hill, away from other busy subdivisions. My mom could have us go outside and play, with her watching us from the kitchen window. She didn't have to be constantly outside watching us for fear of some crazy person roaming around. I mean, really. If some crazy guy wanted to roam around in a neighborhood, they'd have to really go out of their way, as well as pass many other big subdivisions, to make it to our street. It was quiet and peaceful. Oh, how I hope my kids can have that experience in a house and yard like that someday!

At Auntie Laura and Uncle Justin's wedding reception in the backyard.

Kayelee playing with her cousin, Felicity, in the basement

Most importantly, beyond the rooms and the yard, I love that home in Kentucky for the memories I had in it, and for the Spirit that dwelt within it. I am not saying my family is anywhere near perfect. I'm not saying we didn't have hard times or disagreements. I am not saying life was always easy. BUT, my mother and father always tried to have to right focus in our home. They tried to center our lives on Christ and the Gospel. Of course we watched cartoons, played "pretend," and played with all sorts of toys. We didn't have our noses stuck in the Bible all day. But, by teaching by example, and showing us true perspective on what's most important in life, our parents taught us the Gospel, the love of God, and to love God. I don't think I realized this so much while living in that home- but that's the funny thing about growing up. We don't realize all our parents have taught us until we have grown up more, and we realize it even more when we are deciding what to instill in our own children's lives.

My heart aches a little to remember how simple and beautiful life was there. It was based on hard work and good family values. It was Christ-centered. Those things are what matters.

I tend to get lost in the everyday things that I forget and lose sight of how simple life can be... how simple life SHOULD be. Sure everyone will have hard times, but if we have the right focus, life can seem a whole lot simpler, amidst all that life brings. I hope to fill my home with love, good memories, and the Spirit, as I have experienced back in my sweet, ol' Kentucky home. (:

Personal History Challenge

As I've stated in recent posts, my ward's Relief Society has been focusing on recording our own personal histories. Every month, we have a different topic we are supposed to be writing about. I figured I would type out my personal history entries, as to save time (as well as my hand from cramping up).

I don't get much time to write my entries, as I'm limited to the amount of energy I have in a day as well as the time constraints of nap time, the only opportunity for personal time I get in the day. I'll be trying my best to keep up with these entries, but with priorities such as cleaning, cooking, organizing, laundry, NAPPING also pulling on my "nap time = free time," I will just have to do them whenever I am able.

Sadly, I'm still working on January's entries still, despite it already being the beginning of March. What matters is that I'm actually getting something down, right?

If you're interested in doing something similar to start recording your personal history, here is the list I am following:

January: Birth and Family
February: Growing Up- Early Years
March: Growing Up- Teenage Years
April: College/Trade School/Working Years
May: Single Life, Marriage
June: Children, Extended Family (Nieces, Nephews, Cousins, etc.)
July: Grandchildren, Life at Home
August: Life as a Mother, Life as a Grandmother, Life as an Empty Nester, Your role as a Woman
September: Major World Events During Your Lifetime, Feelings on Politics, Traveling Adventures
October: Sleep Habits, Food, Health
November: Personality, Hobbies, Talents
December: The Gospel (Testimony, Trials, Blessings, etc.)

*All these questions and ideas are taken from this amazing blog: http://ldsthisismechallenge.blogspot.com

This link has some really cute and fun ideas to show a little bit about yourself, little by little. After looking at her blog, I hope to be able to follow some of her other challenges later on! (:

Kal's Birth Story: Part 2

Here's the second half of Kal's birth story. I had to break it up into parts because I tend to get worked up when I tell stories and don't want to miss any detail... Anyway, carrying on...

Yeah, so, Kal was apparently so excited to join his family here on Earth that he couldn't wait any longer. That night, we all went to bed like normal. At around 12:45 or so, I was woken up by a pretty painful contraction. I had experienced some painful Braxton Hicks for many weeks/months before then, so I didn't calk it up to being anything important. I had the feeling I should look at the time on my phone, just in case, but wasn't took worried, and quickly fell back asleep. I was awoken by another painful contraction... about 7 minutes later. I thought, "Ouch! Ah, no big deal, get back to sleep. Braxton Hicks can happen close together too." And then again... 6 minutes later. Thinking, "Ouuuuch!" A really sharn pain, then a pop and whooosh. "Uhmmm, did that just happen?! Was that my water breaking?" I waddled to the bathroom as fast as I could to see if I didn't just pee my pants really bad, because, well, those kind of things happen when you're pregnant. I didn't want to have to wake up Jonald and panic him over my bad bladder control, after all.

Well, along with another super painful contraction, I came to the conclusion it had been my water that had broken, and went to wake up Jonald. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: "Babe, my water just broke."
Hubby (getting straight up): "OH SHOOTS! What should we do?!"
Me: "Uh, we should probably go to the hospital now... Dang, I need to pack! I didn't even pack my hospital bag yet!"

Hahaha. So, in between crazy painful contractions every 5 minutes or so, I packed just the necessities I could think of, threw them in my backpack, and we were on our way to the hospital.

We left the house in such a hurry, but I was lucky to be sporting these fashionable socks that night before I went to bed.

When I arrived at the hospital, I was actually walking, smiling, and doing quite well in-between contractions. I walked all the way down the hall to the Women's Center, and only had to stop a couple times due to my contractions. I think I was probably in a state of mental shock that it was actually happening, and was just trying to be in a good mood at first. Then, we got in a room, they checked me, and I was dilated to about a 6 or 7. The nurse left the room to get some paperwork, and apparently she didn't think we were in any hurry, because she didn't come back for (what seemed like) forever. The contractions were then about every minute and really painful. I sent Jonald to call a nurse into our room. A nurse came in and decided she was going to check me- during a contraction- alll up in there. Ahhhh! Jonald couldn't bear to see me in so much pain as the nurse was checking me and started to feel light-headed, so he sat down in a chair next to me. I was at an 8. I decided to ask for an epidural because it was all going so fast and I didn't think I could mentally handle the shock that I was in labor, much less the excruciating contractions that were then on top of each other and getting MUCH worse each time.

As the nurse was putting in my IV (I think I had to get one since I had told them I was probably dehydrated from being so sick on Sunday), Jonald's light-headedness caught up with him, and he passed out, slumping off the roller chair he had been sitting in and onto the floor. Poor guy! Well, that freaked the nurse out, so she immediately tried standing up (still holding the needle in my arm, mind you) to see if he was okay, and she called in for help. They got him some orange juice and had him lay down on the couch by the wall in my room. They kept insisting he go to the E.R. and get checked out, just in case, because they thought he may have hit his head on his way down to the floor. But, at the same time, I definitely didn't want my husband leaving me in the room alone while I'm in active labor! Jonald said his head didn't hurt, and thankfully, the nurses said he could stay with me in the room as long as he sat in a chair that didn't have wheels on it.

It seemed to take ages for the anesthesiologist to arrive. We decided for me to have a spinal (much faster working) and an epidural (takes a little longer to kick in, but lasts a little longer) because of the rate I was progressing in labor. After it kicked in, ohhh man, was that anesthesiologist my best friend! I mean, I could definitely feel when I had contractions happening, but the labor pain was all gone. It worked perfectly, and I don't regret getting those at all. That was the best money I've ever spent for doctor's bills!

The moment he was done putting in the epidural, they helped me go back to laying on an incline and checked me again. All I heard was, "Okay guys, she's ready to go! She's at a 10!" and a doctor and all these nurses surrounded me at once. I'll spare you all the other "fun" details during that time of pushing, though. I didn't have to push too long, and our baby boy had arrived!

As I held him in my arms, I just couldn't believe he was here already! I looked down at him, and the name "Kal" seemed to fit just right, so I asked Jonald if he felt the same way too, and that was it! We decided on his full name, Kal Alan Morgan Gonzalez.

Holding our sweet boy

 I cried, and cried, and cried- probably a whole mix of emotions including shock, exhaustion, and extreme love. This was a whole different feeling than after I gave birth to Kayelee and cried as I held her in my arms for the first time. I was instantly in love with him. I finally felt what I had heard other moms experiencing when they got to hold their baby in their arms for the first time. It's as though you have so much love for them you're about to burst because you never knew you could feel all that love for such a little thing at one moment. It's a different kind of love than I have for my husband, although my love for him is overwhelming as well. All I can say is it's a "motherly love." It's incredible. It's as though I could feel Heavenly Father's love and presence reaching to me, touching me, through my son, since my son had been in the Premortal Existence just a short time before then.

It's too bright out here, Mama!

This little boy has been such a light in our lives. It's as though he is a portal in which I can feel God's love for me. It's as though I can experience, even if it's just a just a small, minute glimmer, of how much love God has for all His children, including his Son, Jesus Christ... Of how much our Heavenly Father must love all of us, to allow His only begotten son to painfully experience that night at the Garden of Gethsemene for all of us- our sins, our pains, our mistakes, our illnesses- and then to be betrayed, scorned at, mocked at, spit at, and then to die on the cross for all of us, all so Christ could break the bands of death, both physically and spiritually, and rise again on the third day and complete the his part of the Atonement.

Daddy's turn to hold his son (:

Our sweet Kal has grown my capacity for love and my testimony more than I even knew was possible. I can't wait to watch him grow and see what more lessons he has to teach me. (:

Kal's Birth Story: Part 1

My sweet, smiley, little chunk-chunk Kal! Oh, I'm so glad he is in our lives. He has brought so much joy, stress, sadness, and blessings in our lives that I couldn't even imagine before. We've been through quite a few rough patches in his 3 and a 1/2 month life so far, but we have also seen and felt the outpouring of the Spirit and love from Heavenly Father as well as our dear family and friends.

After coming home from the Philippines, I was about 7 months pregnant. Boy, was I exhausted after such a long trip from so far away. I didn't want to do anything more than lay on the couch all day and rest. Plus, it didn't help the fact that once we got home, Kayelee decided to climb out of and basically Kamikaze jump from her crib. So, we decided to move her to a toddler bed, and she was NOT having it. We eventually gave up and let her sleep on the floor by the door in her room. We figured sleep anywhere in her room was MUCH better than no sleep at all. All those late nights fighting her to get to sleep on her bed was just too much to handle at the time.

In the Philippines with Jonald's family when I was 7 months pregnant.

Throughout my pregnancy with Kal, I felt exhausted.all.the.time. I never got that "2nd wind" burst of energy during my second semester, either. It was more like I was tired the moment I was pregnant and my energy just went downhill after that, for the most part. For that reason, I was ready to just get the pregnancy over with and meet him. On the other hand, I was terrified of soon experiencing that transition from 1 to 2 kids. I was hoping and praying I would be able to be a good mom to both kids. I didn't want Kayelee to feel shoved out of the picture and not get any attention. I also didn't want Kayelee to get jealous or just not be a good sister overall, as though she resented her sibling or something like that. So, when people would see my humongous belly, most would comment, "Wow, I bet you're ready to give birth already!" I would usually laugh and agree, but deep down I had a huge fear of the unknown ahead of me, and if I would be capable to still do my best as a mama of two.

When we found out we were having a boy, Jonald was elated! Don't get me wrong, I was happy to be expecting a boy as well, but I was also scared. I had no idea how to raise a boy! I was used to the pink, the bows, the dresses, the dollies, and all the other girly things with Kayelee. I mean, c'mon this girl squeals if she sees a fruit fly. How was I supposed to know how to raise a boy that might be all, "rough and tumble" or "lets collect bugs and play in the mud"? Hahaha. Well, I guess I would have the opportunity to learn now!

We were going back and forth on what to name him. When we were watching the new Superman movie, the moment I heard his "other name" that his parents had given him, "Kal-El," I thought the name "Kal" would be super cute. That name was basically our #1 choice, but I wanted to make sure I had explored all the options before deciding for sure.

Also a pic in the Philippines at 7 months pregnant. I was excited to eat some taho. Preggo lady loves her food, man!

A couple weeks before he was born, I was already super exhausted. My baby bump had "dropped" and I was waddling around as though I didn't put my pants on right. At 35 weeks, my OB said according to their measurements, my baby was already about 6 pounds, 14 ounces. He said if I went full term, if the baby gains weight on average a 1/2 pound a week, I was looking at a 9 pound(ish) baby... Oh my! He wasn't sure my body would be able to deliver a baby that big, so he decided to schedule me to be induced a week before my due date. You see that, there? Yeah, he asked my opinion if I wanted to be induced early, and I was afraid of the effects my body (and baby too) might have by being induced. BUT, he scheduled a day of induction anyway. Okie doke, so much for my decision. I see where he was coming from, I mean, he said if baby would be too big, I might end up getting a C-section, so I shouldn't wait longer than was needful. But, just the thought of being induced early and possibly emergency C-section was stressing me out! Luckily, that weekend, Sam, Janice, and Cinthya threw me a fun baby shower that helped me relax, have some fun, and get my mind off of those things.

The Sunday before I gave birth, I was terrrrribly sick. I couldn't hardly eat anything all day, except for a few saltine crackers. I thought I had experienced some sort of food poisoning. But, also in the back of my mind, the thought kept running through my head of how my friend Janice told me how she would get pretty sick before going into labor. I kept brushing off those thoughts by saying, "Ah, I still have three weeks before my due date. I have plenty of time to go into labor, and even expect to go past my due date, since Kayelee was 5 days overdue." The next day, I went over to my friend Sam's house for Kayelee to have a play date with her kids, as well as Janice's kids. I tried to recover from the previous day's sickness by eating more and more that day to regain my strength. Sam and Janice kept joking about my sickness meaning I might go into labor early, but I wasn't convinced... other than the fact I was having crazy pressure in my pelvis that day.

Last family pictures at Sundance before our boy came- probably at 35 weeks pregnant.

Saying I haven't even gotten to the actual "labor/birth" part of the story yet, I should probably break this up into another post...

Kayelee's Birth Story: Part 2

So my goal for this post is to actually tell of my labor/Kayelee's birth story/day... since I obviously got a little side-tracked yesterday.

Back to where we left off, I busted my hiney on Halloween night trick-or-treating hoping I would go into labor right away. Yeah, wishful thinking. I didn't want my kid to have a Halloween birthday, but my husband and I definitely didn't want her birthday to be on November 1st, either, since in the Philippines that is "All Saints Day," which is almost the equivalent to the Mexican "Day of the Dead" holiday. It just sounded creepy to have a baby on a day where people were thinking and celebrating all about dead people. So, I decided to give it a rest on that day and not try to jump start any labor until the next day after that. Yeah, well okay, before having any kids, I thought I could (somewhat) be in control of when I would go into labor. Bahaha. ha. ha. ha. *sigh*...

My swollen preggo ankles and feet. Mhmm, aren't they cute?

I had an appointment on that morning of November 1st. I had had some contractions that morning, but they weren't really strong or consistent, so I chalked it up to being Braxton Hicks again. Jonald decided to stay home from work that day so he could go to my appointment with me and my mom. When we went to my appointment, I asked my doctor (well, midwife) about her opinion on getting my membranes stripped sometime, since I was already 5 days overdue, and she said it was all up to me. Then, she checked me and said I was dilated at about a 2 still. All of a sudden, while she was checking me, and without warning (even though apparently 15 seconds ago it was "all up to me"), she stripped my membranes.

Me: "AHHHH!? OUCH!? What did you do?!"
Doctor: "Oh, I just stripped your membranes. Now you're dilated to about a 3 or a 4."
Me: "Uhmmm. Ok, thanks...?" (When I was actually thinking, "Seriously, lady? You could've given me a warning!?"

So, that was that. I left my appointment waddling and feeling a little bit relieved that I was dilated more, but still a little violated at the same time, haha. We dropped by Foodland to pick up my prescription for my really painful PUPPS rash (pregnancy rash) and then headed home. Starting at Foodland, my contractions started getting a little more intense, but I didn't know if that was from all the fun at the doctor's office, so I decided to ignore them.

When we got home, I decided it was probably a good time to pack my hospital bag, "just in case". (Hey, what can I say? I'm a procrastinator.) Jonald decided to take a nap, since he was exhausted helping me out all night with my PUPPS rash. It had become so bad to the point that I would be waking up every 15 minutes or so itching like crazy, despite putting on baby powder, hydrocortizone cream, and using some sort of stinky pine tar soap.

The contractions seemed to be getting stronger, so I decided to start timing them. They were about 10 minutes or so apart. For some reason, I wasn't too worried. I told my mom that I thought I was going into labor, and she decided to make me some lunch because she said, "Hey, with your first, you never know how long your labor will last. You could be in the hospital for hours or even days in labor and they won't let you eat while you're there. You better get some nourishment before you go and just let Jonald get a good nap, too." After eating, though, the contractions were still pretty regular and about maybe 7 minutes apart, and that's when my mom flipped her opinion, saying, "You're an hour away from the hospital! You need to go... NOW. You need to wake Jonald up." She then proceeded to tell me how she almost had my sister in the car/elevator of the hospital and started saying how I could have a fast labor like her. Uhm, I thought we weren't worried about this and taking our time to eat lunch and not worry so much? Haha oh well, okay...

Then, I woke Jonald up and we made our way to the hospital. Every bump and turn on the road made me want to scream and/or hurl. And, if you've ever been on Kamehameha Hwy., you know there are a LOT of bumps and turns from La'ie to Kailua! My orders to Jonald switched back and forth from "Hurry up!" to "Slow down! Ahh! Watch out for those bumps!" By that time, my contraction were about every 5 minutes apart.

We arrived at the hospital and I was put into a triage room where they would check me and observe my progression to see if I was far along enough in labor to stay in the hospital. They said I was still dilated at about a 3 or a 4, but wanted to observe my contractions. While we waited in the room, Jonald made some joke that made me laugh to hard I thought I had peed my pants. I said to my mom, "Oh my gosh. I think I peed my pants. Like... A LOT." She then said, "Oh, maybe your water broke. Let me get the nurse to check." The nurse then came in, and sure enough, my water had broken. I was given the all-clear to stay at the hospital. *Phew* I was off the hook. I didn't care so much if my water had broken, I would have just been really embarrassed if I had peed my pants that much.

The rest of my labor was mostly a blur, to be honest. I had decided to try and give birth all naturally, and basically just tried to survive from one contraction to the next. I used my breathing techniques from my Meditation and Relaxation class at BYU-H to try and take my mind off the pain. Yeah, well, that wasn't making the pain go away. It more distracted me from the time. What I do remember is my husband and my mom watching that one A Capella show on TV while I was laboring, and me yelling at them to stop watching TV because I was in labor, dang it!

Finally it was time to push. I remember that my nurse was a girl in my ward, and she was so sweet and extremely helpful to show Jonald places to put pressure on my hips and back to help with my pain. I don't know how putting pressure helps some of the pressure go away, but it was awesome with how much it helped. I was so glad she was my nurse! Then it became awkward when I went #2 and she was the one that had to clean it up (sorry, TMI), and I was going to see her again at church later on. Oh well. I'm sure she sees and has to do that often. Life as a Labor and Delivery nurse, eh? I tried giving birth on my hands and knees, but our baby kept getting stuck on my pelvis (sorry, TMI again?), so they made me flip over and lay on my back.

Another painful blur and lapse in my memory and our little girl had arrived! She was born on 11/1/11 at 9:54 p.m. She weighed 6 pounds, 15.8 ounces and was 18 inches long.

Moments after she was born. She was wide awake and trying to hold her head up already.

Daddy snapped this picture after she was checked and dressed by the nurses

I was honestly so exhausted and overwhelmed that I cried when they handed me to her. I didn't cry necessarily because of that "instant, loving bond" you hear so many mommies talk about when they get to hold their baby for the first time. It was more like thoughts such as, "I'm too weak to hold her. I can't believe this is OUR baby. Can this be happening? No, I'm not ready. I just want to rest."

I know that sounds awful that I didn't really want to hold her right after she came out (even though I did, for skin-to-skin contact reasons, and hoping I would feel that "connection" I had heard of so much). I was just so overwhelmed I didn't hardly know what was going on other than most of the pain was going away. I just held her and cried, and cried, and cried.

"My baby is here. Our baby. She's really here. I'm a mom."