My Life Through Others'

There are a few negative aspects of blogging. To me, blogging, is mostly about telling the stories. Being a storyteller is strangely enlightening. You tend to see the world in a different light. Reading some of my favorite authors' blogs can leave me feeling giddy and thankful. Both good things in this dreary world. Some of our stories are hard to tell. Sometimes they're painful to relive. Often the painful ones are more or less therapy for me, especially to reread at a later date and remember how strong I actually am. I survived that? I am awesome!
But sometimes those stories involve other people. Actually, most stories involve others to some extent. But sometimes their story overshadows your story. Sometimes telling their story would just belittle their experiences. Or insult their character in some fashion.
I don't wish to hurt anyone by telling my story. My story can include being angry at the action of others. Calling them out on it, doesn't necessarily correct the behavior. It only hurts feelings. Anonymity isn't an option on the internet. Especially, when half the people who read your blog are related to you.
My parents are now divorced.
This has been very painful to me. That story cannot be shared in the fullness because I love both my mother and my father very much. There are no sides. There was a marriage between two people. There is still a family. But the whole dynamic between these parties involved has changed... dramatically. Change is hard.
It came very suddenly, and played out quickly. Announced right before Thanksgiving in fact. Yay... holidays. *SARCASM* Then my grandfather passed away. My father, who was already grieving due to a different loss, now felt the emptiness of losing a parent. The next day, my little brother had to be admitted to the hospital, and was subsequently diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes.
Sucks to be him.
No, really. That poor kid. The same one who joined the Marine Corps, got in a horrific, fiery motor vehicle accident, which led to multiple surgeries and years of recovery. Had twin baby girls last fall, at the same time returning to school to support his now family of four. Yeah, sucks. That boy has the worst luck in the universe. Luckily, he caught it quickly enough to cause no long term damage. But his medical costs just went through the roof. And now the Corp will probably discharge him, they don't like liabilities like diabetics. Ouch!
See, makes my life look not all that bad. But then there's the part where it seems like I am playing off his story, or demeaning it in some way. Do you see my point?
Some stories cannot ever be really shared to their full extent. Because some people in your life are too important to ever really be able to explain accurately to the interweb. One day I hope to look back on this winter and wonder how I survived. It was a winter of tragedy. Most of it was spent grieving in some sense or the other: grieving with my siblings about our broken family, grieving with my individual parents and helping them find happiness, grieving with my sister-in-law regarding her sick husband and now unknown future, grieving with my extended family over the loss of our patriarch, and grieving alone about the weight all these troubles carry. Well, that last one is a little unfair. I have a very strong companion in Avery. He is my shoulder to grieve on, and my pulley. When I need to stand back up again, he does all the heavy lifting.
I have a lot to be grateful for: my immediate family is sound. The three of us are quite happy together. Audrey is a beautiful, happy little girl. She brings us both so much joy. Avery is doing so well in school, and is on track to finish his Master's research by the spring. Which means so much for our future! All happy, joyful things! My work has been a blessing in disguise. Our friends have been incredibly understanding. Extended family all still love us and are trying their best to do the right thing.
Is it sad that sometimes the sad stories overshadow all the good?

Our Year in Photos

I made this for my brother, Ammon, for Christmas. So ignore the  Elder Rhodes bit. Overall I find it a good summary of our year... complete with lot's of photos of lil' one. WARNING: Approx 19 min long... you should have control to skip over more quickly, but there's still a lot!

Slideshow created with Smilebox

Under Pressure

Well... hello there. Long time no see. Of course, ultimately for very good reasons. Buuuu.... uhhhuuuttt... I'm feeling this extreme amount of pressure to blog again. If only to record the beautiful things happening these days, or even the not so beautiful. In my defense I have started like a bajillion posts, including my delivery story and a day by day playback of the first two weeks of the lil' ones life. Because recording how many times she pooed is very important for posterity. You know it is.
Then yesterday she had her six month well child check with Dr. Grandpa. And I was in a panic that I haven't been recording every little thing possible. That all the little changes haven't been shared enough.
There are multiple reasons, one, being the computer I save all my pictures on has been ridiculous about connecting to the internet. And everybody knows you can't write a post after six months without including a picture bomb of the adorable daughter. Duh!
Two through five hundred include: having a baby, recovering from having a baby, feeding baby, getting mastitis twice, changing baby (times one million), not sleeping, cleaning baby puke, going back to work, find someone to watch baby, doing laundry, finding a spare moment to shower, etc.
To summarize: the first three months were HARD. Yes, all caps were appropriate in that sentence. She was colicky, had horrible reflux, breastfeeding was a nightmare, she would not sleep, and cried constantly. I only survived because I had so much help. Avery was wonderful. My mother a life saver, especially when I got mastitis the first time... which happened to be the second weekend home with her, and Avery and my dad were in Moab. Ugh. And Avery's mom, Lora, taking her so many Saturdays just so I could sleep.
I went back to work after six weeks... note to self: way too soon. Luckily, it was teaching only a day or two a week, but still with everything, it was too much for me.
Now don't get me wrong, she was beautiful and tiny and perfect. But I probably have PTSD from the 'newborn' stage.
Then magically she transformed. She decided to wean on her own, absolutely refused, so we switched to formula. Found the perfect one for sensitive tummies, added rice cereal to weigh it down, and poof.... colic and reflux cured. She stopped puking, stopped crying as much, started sleeping. *****HALLELUJAH***** Angels singing, light of heaven shining down. I suddenly had a happy and beautiful and tiny and perfect baby.
She started rolling, then never stopped, started laughing, started smiling, started playing on her own, started pushing herself up, started standing, started crawling, started pulling herself up. All in a matter of three months. Best three months of my life. I love how much fun she has become. We laugh and play and dance. She can still be super annoying, she is very high maintenance, way too independent for a six month old, and way too smart for my sanity. But now I can honestly say I enjoy being a mother.
It might have been a good thing I didn't write a post in those first few months. There would have been way too many murmurings about my mental health. The other day I finally had the thought about having another baby without dropping into the fetal position and sucking my thumb. Don't worry it still won't be for a while. A long, long while. It's interesting how badly I wanted to have a baby, how long I waited for her, how hard we tried, and then how difficult I've found every step. It's not necessarily sad, just interesting. Life is funny.
Things are lovely. I love her so much. She loves daddy more, but you can't always win. I changed jobs, which has turned out wonderfully. I love my job. I love my time with her. Teaching her things, or just watching her figure them out on her own. Which is what usually happens. I know every parent thinks this, but she's a freaking genius. It's insane. Her little serious face when she concentrates super hard cracks me up. How hard she laughs at the silly things Uncle Austin does, is my favorite. How she growls at daddy every time she sees him, because he taught her that, drives me nuts, but it's still adorable. She is my life. And I am totally okay with that.
There are still a few bad, but not nearly as much. Avery is almost done with school, but still has to work a lot on his Master's thesis and project. My work is great, though lately it's been hard to find childcare and I worry about leaving her. Our health has been good, but I'm still not 100% after the pregnancy. I swear my organs are still jacked up. Plus, the amount of Dr. Pepper I drink is unhealthy, and not helping the weight loss. Avery and I are great, doing well adjusting to being parents and partners. He is a great daddy. He comes home kissing Audrey all over, telling her how much he missed her, and how beautiful she is. And then I say "Uh, hello? I'm here too."  :)
I can't wait until we can move out and have a place of our own. But will always be extremely grateful to my parents. I worry about my loved ones' health. There's been some concerns lately. Makes you realize how lucky you are sometimes. And makes you realize how fragile we all really are. I have full blown nightmares about Audrey; being hurt, in danger, or killed. Is that normal? I don't necessarily worry as much during the day, but when my thoughts wander at night....
Luckily, my monitor has a video function that I can switch on and look in on her without waking her. And if I turn up the sound enough, I can hear her snore. Unfortunately, she inherited that from me. Like right now, if you could see her, she's all curled up with her bum and in the air and talking in her sleep. Makes me teary, while smiling.
Oh, and PS she weighs a whopping 14 lbs which puts her in the 12% (good for her) and is 25 inches long (44%) and her head circumference in the 50%. We call her 'bobble head baby': big head, skinny body. But we also call her AdeyBug, Bugga, BabyGirl, and DriDri.
You can call her Audrey. My daughter.