Problems Getting Pregnant

27 Oct 2011 10 Comments

by Natalie in Dealing with Death, Pregnant After a Loss, What's a mom to do?

What has been harder for me lately than giving birth to a full-term stillborn baby? Finally feeling ready to try being pregnant again and then facing nearly a year’s worth of infertility.

Talk about feeling lonely, helpless and discouraged.

Most people who know about Luca probably wouldn’t dare ask if we were ever going to have another baby. Some probably assume we’re done. But we’re trying not to be done.

I’ve even signed up for a research study on fertility/pregnancy loss to try to better understand my body and what I can do to ensure a healthy pregnancy. Each morning for the study I go through what I have nicknamed my “lab rat” routine – testing my urine and popping a mouthful of vitamins.

But despite my countless visits to the hospital as part of the research study as well as consultations with my doctor, I have yet to become pregnant.

Now I know some people have tried for much longer than a year to conceive with no results. I know I should sit back and let nature run its course. But a year is a really long time when you desperately want a baby. It seems even longer after your last baby was stillborn.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m not meant to raise more than two kids on earth. Other times I feel bitter and angry and don’t understand what is going wrong.

One of my church’s leaders, Dieter F. Uctdorf – second counselor in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints first presidency, gave an incredible talk last month that completely touched my heart. In his talk he referenced “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” by one of my favorite authors, Roald Dahl.

He talked about the quest in that book to find a “golden ticket” that was sure to bring happiness. The tickets were wrapped in Willy Wonka chocolate bars and shipped throughout the world. People went crazy looking for the tickets. Some became so obsessed with finding the ticket that they no longer took satisfaction in the chocolate candy bar that they used to love. If it wasn’t wrapped in golden lining, they had no use for it. All they could focus on was that golden ticket and how their lives would be infinitely happier finding it.

I think getting pregnant and delivering a healthy baby has become my golden ticket. I have become bitter, angry and ornery in my quest to get pregnant.

I have stayed far away from pregnant friends and even farther away from their newborn babies because unlike them my quest for another child has not come as easily.

At times I have been so preoccupied with my golden-ticket search that I have been unable to enjoy the “chocolate.” I’ve forgotten to enjoy the two beautiful boys I do have here on earth.

One morning after my dreaded cycle started again, I looked at my little guys while they were eating breakfast and thought, “These guys are pretty special. If that’s all I get, so be it.”

Don’t get me wrong, I still long for another baby to have, hold and cuddle. And I still feel anxious and uneasy near pregnant women and little babies – for a number of reasons. But I’m trying not to wait for my golden ticket to be happy. I’m trying to enjoy the chocolate now.

I don’t know how much longer it will take for me to conceive, or why it’s taken this long so far, but I do know I can’t keep driving myself crazy waiting for a positive pregnancy test. Heaven knows another pregnancy will probably stress me out to the max anyway.

Last week I went and got a second opinion from a new doctor who is very proactive in helping me. I am optimistic that I will get pregnant soon. Meanwhile, when my infertility is getting me down, I’m going to try to take a step back, take a deep breath and live in the now.

Wash That Car

20 Oct 2011 4 Comments

by Natalie in Don't ever take your kids..., Parenting Battles Tags: , , , ,

If any of you ever get the urge to take your kids with to help you at the self-service car wash, call me. I’ll talk some sense into you.  

A couple of weeks ago my van was filthy after I took it camping. I thought it would be fun to take the boys with to help me wash it off and vacuum it out. Boy was I wrong.

First of all, we prepped the van for vacuuming. I knew we wouldn’t have a lot of time on the vacuum limit so we took the car seats, blankets and all of the extra stuff out of the van and sat them on the ground. Then my boys each grabbed a section of the thick hose and braced themselves for the roar of the vacuum as they stood near the passenger side sliding door. I put a dollar’s worth of quarters in the vacuum and watched the machine flash 4:00.

Four minutes?! That’s all the time they give me to cover my entire van?  I knew time was going to be short, but I thought it would be a little longer than that.  I was feeling stressed before it all began.

Four minutes is barely enough time for me to skim the interior myself while racing from side to side. Trying to make it under four minutes with tiny arms stretching the cord as far as they physically can in an effort to “help” was going to be nearly impossible.

I was torn. I wanted to let them help, but I knew we weren’t going to make it. I tried to shout out orders to them over the roar of the machine as all three of us held the hose and brushed it across the carpet, but it was no use. We ended up popping two extra quarters into the machine after we ran out of time twice.

At that point I was sweating.

I glanced up at the pricing sign for the automatic garage-style car wash and decided that I didn’t want to pay that much. So we pulled into the nearest empty bay and hopped out. I should have known we were in trouble the minute I saw my oldest grab the hose/wand and raise it to his shoulder as if it were a giant squirt gun.

Because to a 5-year-old that’s exactly what it is. He doesn’t care about my van’s muddy exterior. All he wants to do is pull the trigger.

But at this point I still thought it might be “fun” to have his help.

I should have realized there was no way my scrawny arms had a chance in scraping off all of the hundreds of bugs that peppered the hood.

Not to mention I thoroughly pre-washed my left foot.

It took over 12 minutes to work through three wash cycles. I spent $7.25 to spray me, my boys and my van when it would have cost me only $5.50 to have the automatic machine do it for me.

Why didn’t I fork out that money?

Once again I find myself at a crossroads. Do I do things by myself in order to get them done quickly and right? Or do I continue to allow them to help?

I know I need to teach them work ethic, but next time my van is caked with mud and bugs I’ll wait until my husband can stay home with the boys and I’ll wash it alone.

What chores do your kids help you with? How do you keep calm while they help?

Was I Meant to be a Stay-at-Home-Mom?

13 Oct 2011 2 Comments

by Natalie in About Me, Trying to be a Better Mom, What's a mom to do?

Several months ago I got offered the work-at-home opportunity of a lifetime with a local outsourcing sales and marketing company. They asked if I wanted to work part-time from home as a digital/social media specialist.

I jumped at the opportunity knowing it would be a great chance to use my college education, feel like I am once again contributing to the outside world and give me something to do on days when I am bored out of my mind.

Not only that, but they offered me really good pay too.

But I’ll be honest with you. It’s hard to squeeze an extra 20 hours each week into an already packed stay-at-home mom schedule.

In order to minimize the effect my work has on my children, I have started waking up really early in the mornings so I can get a couple of hours of work in before they get out of bed.

I know what you’re thinking, “Early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.” I totally agree. But it’s been hard for me to convert myself from a night owl into an early bird.

Starting this job has also put a huge damper on my crafting life. I used to dream up all kinds of crazy crafts to do while my kids were having resting time. Now while they rest I’m sending emails, posting stuff to social networks and writing new content for my company.

It’s probably a good thing. I am running out of craft-display space in my modest home anyway. Not to mention I love writing and the challenge of researching new social media strategies.

But more than missing out on a few extra zzzs or some unnecessary crafting projects, this job has really made me stop and think about my stay-at-home-mom lifestyle.

I had the stay-at-home mom thing down pat. Now I have been recreating my identity as a work-at-home-mom and reconsidering my decision to leave the workplace.

Could I keep myself at home even though my foot had been placed inside the door to the working world again?

A few months ago I was thinking about being a work-at-home-mom, my career, my new job and what it meant for my family, while I was driving down to a social media seminar in Salt Lake City.

When I stepped into the college auditorium I felt the rush and excitement of learning, growing and working come flooding back to me. It reminded me of when I used to cover events as a reporter. I loved being a reporter. I loved meeting new people and writing about all kinds of interesting things.

In my mind a mental battle was brewing. I was kicking myself for my stay-at-home-mom predicament. I have always enjoyed working and feel like I am a good, hard-working employee.

While wondering if I really should have been a stay-at-home-mom, the thought came to me, “You chose to stay at home with your kids.”

It was like a light bulb turned on in my mind. No one forced me to give up my reporting career. No one fired me or told me I couldn’t do it anymore. No one kicked me out of the Deseret News building and told me to turn in my badge. I left voluntarily.

I know everyone is different and has different lifestyles, but for me staying home was my ultimate goal.

I love my new job. It’s hard to find time to do it all, but my boss is extremely flexible and understanding. She lets me work when I can — whether it’s 5 a.m. or midnight. I wouldn’t work right now if I couldn’t stay at home with my children. And it’s also very important to me that my money is just extra. I make certain we can still live on my husband’s means.

Even though it’s hard to realize sometimes, I honestly love staying at home with my boys. When I feel down about my place in the “world” and where I am in my career, I remind myself of my decision to stay at home with my children.

I consciously decided long before I married, graduated college and had my first baby, that I was going to be home with my kids no matter the cost. My mom was home with me when I was little and I wanted to be able to do that for my children.

I look at some of my colleagues who have successful and productive careers and get jealous at times. That’s when I remind myself that my little boys are only little once. No matter how many hours I were to put in at an office, it would never be able to replace the time I have been able to have with my babies at home.

Am I giving up on my career? Definitely not. For now I plan on working as the best part-time social media specialist my company could ever hope for. As the years go by and my house gets quieter I may take on more work if possible.

Do I regret leaving my reporter post to stay at home with my first son five years ago? Sometimes I think I do; it’s hard to be shut out away from the world while building blocks, coloring pictures and blowing bubbles. But then I look at my scrapbook of all of the fun things I have been able to do, see and experience with my boys and I know that my staying home has been the best thing for all of us.

Enjoying the Harvest

06 Oct 2011 1 Comment

by Natalie in Failed Housewife

I don’t know why I sometimes think I am Martha Stewart. But every fall, during canning season, I am reminded that I am not.

This year’s project was peaches, pears, tomatoes and salsa. I was in way over my head.

While waiting for my 40 lb. box of green pears to turn yellow, I had the brilliant idea to buy peaches. By the time I tracked down and bought a bushel of Early Albertas, all of my pears had miraculously ripened.

So there I stood staring at giant piles of peaches and pears that were more than ready to can. I started late on a Thursday night after putting my boys in bed. I got all my bowls, pans and jars ready. I boiled my water and blanched half a dozen peaches. As I was cutting them up, it dawned on me that I had forgotten my most important pan.

I ran downstairs but couldn’t find it. My steamer canner was missing.

It was nearly 9:30 p.m. before I rounded up a canner from my next-door neighbor. Luckily I have an awesome neighbor who is always borrowing and lending me stuff when my projects go awry.

After peeling all my peaches I went to start my sugar water. Only I was fresh out of sugar. I wanted to scream. My husband was at a meeting so I couldn’t hop in my car and run to the store. I raided my food storage and opened a #10 can of sugar from 2006. Hopefully it’s still sweet.

I got my peaches in jars and was ready to rock and roll by 10 p.m. But the water bath canner was not ready. They say a watched pot never boils. After canning peaches that night, I know that statement is fact. I waited for what seemed like forever to start timing my processing.

I went to bed at almost midnight having done seven bottles of peaches and barely making a dent in the massive mountain of fruit in my basement.

Friday and Saturday were a blur. I spent every waking moment in my kitchen peeling, cutting, canning. Peeling, cutting, canning. Over and over in a never-ending cycle.

With each batch came a new layer of brown goo cooked onto my stovetop and a new kink in my wrist.

I finally finished my last batch Saturday afternoon. It all ended with a broken bottle and pears floating in my water bath. I was frustrated and annoyed but walked away with only an achy, slightly stained right hand.

My poor kitchen counter.

Which is more than I can say for years past.

One year my sister and I blew the top off a steam canner and sprayed spaghetti sauce all over my parent’s wood deck. Apparently my dad’s camp stove cooks 100 times hotter than a regular stove.

Another year my sister and I picked tiny purple grapes from my neighbor’s vine. We pulled them from their stems, popped them into a juicer and doused them with sugar. About halfway through, we lit the juicer’s hose on fire and melted its plastic. I think that’s the same year I leaned over my salsa pan to check my pot and burned a hole into my BYU hoodie.

I should be grateful that this year yielded 26 quarts of peaches and 17 quarts of pears with little devastation. The only devastation was the state of my kitchen. It looked like a hurricane blew through. Not to mention the fact that you had to peel your feet from the sticky floor. That and I went to bed at midnight three nights in a row.

By the time I was done with my final batch of fruit I couldn’t help ask why. Why do I do this every year? It would be so much cheaper and easier to buy cans of fruit from the store. But my kids love home-bottled fruit. It’s a lot of work, but it really is delicious.

And I am sure I’ll do it again next year.

I still have tomato sauce and salsa to put up. But I can’t bring myself to step foot into my kitchen to can. Not for another month or so. Meanwhile, I’ll keep blanching and freezing my tomatoes and peppers one bag at a time. Until I’ve mustered up enough courage to pretend to be Martha again.

Pine Tree Update

05 Oct 2011 1 Comment

by Natalie in Dealing with Death, My Angel Baby

I finally decided I had to know the bitter truth about my poor pine tree so I called in a professional. Dave from Tree Care Solutions in Kaysville, Utah, stopped by today to see if the tree was salvageable.

At first I knew it was bad. He took one look at the tree and shook his head. Who wouldn’t when looking at a naked pine?

But after digging the little tree out and lifting it up, he said that the roots actually looked all right. He told me not to give up hope, but if it didn’t have any new buds next spring, then it probably wasn’t going to come back.

I was extremely impressed by Dave and his professionalism. He was very kind and apologized for the dying tree, even though it was dying because of my lack of care – he said it was most likely a watering issue and the tree got too dry.

He didn’t even charge me for the consultation.

I’ll have to add him to the never-ending list of people who have shown us kindness and grace as we’ve been faced with this tragedy. There really are good people in the world.

I guess I’ll have to cross my fingers and wait a few more months to know the real fate of that poor tree. Meanwhile I’ll give it a fighting chance by keeping it watered and surrounding it with mulch.

My husband said that if it dies we will buy another one. I know it won’t have the same sentimental value as the first one given to us after Luca died, but since Luca’s birthday is on Earth Day, and Utah celebrates Arbor Day on the last Friday in April, and the state tree is the Blue Spruce, it might be fun to start a new tradition where we plant one each spring.