Birth Story

May 11, 2016

A year ago today I was lying in a hospital bed, having contractions, and feeling ridiculously nervous that my baby was going to come 6 weeks early. Just thinking about it all makes me want to cry. It brings back feelings of fear and wonder. Happy tears, scared tears, grateful tears, helpless tears, all of it. It was quite the whirlwind of craziness. I would never wish my birth experience on anybody else, but at the same time, I feel extremely blessed with how it all turned out. I know there are people who haven't had a happy ending, but I also know that families are forever and anybody who feels like their ending hasn't been happy, well, it's not the end yet! Happiness will come.

THE PREGNANCY

I found out I was pregnant in October of 2014. I was nervous. I have anxiety, so I'm pretty much nervous about everything, always. But I was also excited. It was my first time being pregnant and I downloaded at least 5 pregnancy apps on my iPhone. Each week, they would tell me how big my baby was and what developmental milestones he was going through.

When I was 28 weeks pregnant, my doctor ordered a non-stress test (NST) to be done once a week. My blood pressure had been consistently high at my visits, so she wanted to keep an eye on baby and me to make sure I wasn't developing preeclampsia. Physically, I felt okay so I didn't think I had preeclampsia, but I also had an uneasy feeling in the back of my mind telling me something wasn't right. Soon, I would find out why.

As my pregnancy progressed, so did my blood pressure. It usually went down after resting for a bit, but after some weeks, even the rest didn't help. Under my doctor's orders I began taking my own blood pressure at home each day. One day it was quite high even after resting for 30 minutes and when I told the nurse, she told my doctor right away. Dr. Bowman said she wanted me to go to labor and delivery to get some lab tests done and to check for pregnancy-induced hypertension.

I was there for a couple of hours, but still my blood pressure was not going down, so my doctor ordered a 24-hour urine sample (yes, I had to collect ALL of my pee for 24 hours and then take it back to the doctor the next day). Sometimes there is protein in the urine of somebody with preeclampsia. So that's what they were checking for. I was also given a prescription for Labetalol, a medication to lower my BP (blood pressure).

The test for protein in my urine came back positive. That, combined with my high blood pressure, was a sure diagnosis of preeclampsia. So, at 31 weeks pregnant, I was transferred to a new doctor at a new hospital. My doctor had sent me to Maternal Fetal Medicine (MFM). I guess that's where you go when you have pregnancy complications.

My husband, Chris, and I went together to the doctor at MFM. She said she would tell us absolutely everything she knew about preeclampsia. It took her about 3 minutes. Literally. There just isn't a lot of info about the disease. They don't really even know what causes it!

"So, what now?" I asked her. She said the next step was to find out if my preeclampsia was mild or severe because it is treated differently depending on the severity. With mild preeclampsia, they would deliver the baby at 37 weeks. Early, but still full term. With severe preeclampsia, they would deliver the baby at 34 weeks. Too early for my liking. To know if it was mild or severe, they needed to see how high my blood pressure readings were at 2 different times, 8 hours apart.

So the doctor asked me to come check myself into the hospital that night to be observed. I asked how long I should plan on staying and she said I'd need to stay for 24 hours. Then as Chris and I were getting up to leave, she added, "I should warn you that if your blood pressures are high and we determine it to be a case of severe preeclampsia, we'll be keeping you at the hospital."

"Okay. Keeping me for how long?" I was thinking a few extra hours maybe.

"Until you deliver."

Until I deliver? What?! Was she serious? She said I wouldn't even be able to go back home to pack a bag. She expected me to check myself into the hospital that night with the possibility of living there for the next month!? I was only 31 weeks pregnant! And I also had a job to get back to. And plus, I didn't even feel sick!

Chris and I discussed the situation. Should I pack a long-term bag? Should I even go to the hospital that night? Was I really going to have to deliver at 34 weeks? Was the baby going to be okay? Would he have to be in the NICU? Was this really that serious? When it came down to it, we decided that everything would be fine. My preeclampsia would be declared mild, and I'd leave the hospital after the 24 hours were up. So I packed just a small backpack and off I went.

THE HOSPITAL

I checked myself into the hospital on April 23, 2015. When I got there, they hooked me up to a blood pressure monitor, to keep an eye on me, and an NST machine, to keep an eye on baby. After a few hours, they told me that my blood pressure was too high and that the doctor had prescribed some medication to lower it. But that made no sense. The doctor had specifically told me that morning during my appointment that they needed to monitor my blood pressures unmedicated, to know what the real readings were. They didn't want to cover any symptoms with medications. But now she was prescribing medication to lower it. How could they do the necessary tests if they couldn't get the proper readings?

Something wasn't right. I told the nurse I wasn't supposed to take any medication because then they wouldn't know my actual blood pressure, but she said that my blood pressure was too high to not take medication. I didn't know it at the time, but the medical staff had thrown plan A out the door without informing me. I was there for the long-haul.

The nurse started talking to me about the "what ifs" of delivery. Delivery?! Even if I had sever preeclampsia, they told me I could deliver at 34 weeks. My baby needed those 3 extra weeks to grow and develop properly. I couldn't deliver that night! I didn't come to the hospital that night to deliver my baby. I came for a test! That's it. Yet they were preparing me for delivery. Nobody had said it straight out, but I wasn't stupid. Deep down I knew I wasn't going home.

The whole process freaked me out, which probably didn't help my blood pressure issues. Over the next few hours, they kept upping my medication until I couldn't go on a higher dose. Then they told me that if my blood pressure kept going up, I could have a seizure, which wouldn't be safe for me or my baby. So they put me on magnesium to prevent any seizures. The magnesium sucked. Literally. It sucked the life out of me. I can't say it any other way. It is what it is. It turned me into a zombie. It took all my energy, both physically and mentally. I couldn't even get up to go to the bathroom without help. I couldn't think straight. I could barely lift my hand to scratch myself. And I definitely couldn't care about simple things like making phone calls or checking texts.

That night they gave me a shot of steroids to help my baby develop his lungs faster. I prayed that he wouldn't have to come that night, but knew that the steroids would be good to have anyway since he was coming early no matter what.

Fortunately the magnesium helped to lower my blood pressure and I didn't have to give birth that night. I spent the next 3 weeks in the hospital on semi-bedrest. It felt like 3 months, but I can't complain because I heard of other women who actually were there for 3 months. I don't know how they did it. I passed my time by watching TV, reading, sewing, painting my nails, and talking with my visitors. My sister and her family came to visit me often. And I was also blessed to have my amazing husband pass most of the days with me. And he slept there with me most of the time, too.

During those weeks, my blood pressure was taken every 3 hours, even in the middle of the night. Every couple of days my blood pressure medication was upped as the higher dosages stopped working. My urine was tested every day and once the protein levels started getting high, they started testing my blood every day too (I guess the protein starts contaminating your urine and then moves to the bloodstream as the disease progresses). I was asked at least 5 times a day if I had a headache or abdominal pain. It wasn't a matter of if I would get the pain, it was a matter of when. There's no cure for preeclampsia... Except to deliver your baby. So it was just a waiting game.

The abdominal pain came after about 2 weeks and that sucked, but it was the least of my worries. I had to find strange positions to sit in (like curled in a ball with my butt up in the air) to ease the pain.

The goal was to get baby to 34 weeks, which would have been on Saturday, May 9th. I was starting to feel a little more confident since they had done an ultrasound the week before that day and said Jake was about 4 pounds. I figured with a week to grow he'd be around 5 pounds at birth. The doctors said they would plan on inducing me on Monday, the 11th, unless my blood pressure got too high or there were any other complications. As it got closer, they decided to take me down to labor and delivery on Saturday night to get the whole process of induction started since it usually takes a little longer for first-time births.

THE BIRTH

They took me down to labor and deliver and the labor process started. They hooked me up to some monitors so they could hear baby's heartbeat and monitor my contractions. Then they gave me Cytotec (a pill that goes in the cervix to help get the processes of dilation started). It wasn't really working very well and our nurse told us that there's a balloon-thing they can put up there that will help with dilation, but some doctors don't like to use it. She explained that if my induction didn't progress fast enough, then a c-section would be likely. And luckily the nurse was not passive. She was totally my advocate and did everything she could to make sure this was the best possible experience for us. She kept telling me, "We are gonna have this baby vaginally!" So she got the doctor to use the balloon, which is when I started feeling my contractions. They basically felt like really strong period cramps. Once I was dilated to 4 cm, they took the balloon out and accidentally broke my water in the process. Then we waited. I think this is when they gave me the Pitocin to really start the contractions. Or maybe it was before the balloon. I don't remember. But anyway, I stopped progressing and was dilated to a 4 for the whole next day. This whole time, while waiting for my body to progress, I was on magnesium, the same stuff they put me on when I first came to the hospital two and a half weeks earlier. It made me feel so horrible. I could barely keep my eyes open and I couldn't even lift up my own hand. I just kept thinking, "if I can't lift my hand, how will I possibly push a baby out?!"

The doctor warned me that if I didn't progress they may have to do a C-section. Monday came and my contractions had been normal and strong since the day before. I had already gotten my epidural so they didn't bother me too much. And I was FINALLY dilated to a 7 (after about 36 hours). I was progressing, which meant no c-section. Relief.

Then the doctor came to check on baby and me. She did her exam and seemed a little unsure if the baby's heartrate monitor was accurate. They noticed his heartrate wasn't being consistent and he wasn't moving around much. They thought that maybe the monitor was reading my heartrate instead of baby's. So they decided to use internal monitoring (they go inside the vagina and put a wire in baby's head to measure his heartrate). I definitely didn't like that idea at all. I was still on magnesium and had no energy to fight or ask questions, but I was feeling quite nervous (someone with anxiety can always find the energy to be nervous). They insisted it was safe and that they needed to do it to know my baby's actual heartrate. When they put in the internal monitoring, they found that his heartrate was much slower than it should be. They guessed that the external monitoring had just been doubling my own heart rate instead of reading his. I'm sure the magnesium was affecting him similarly to how it was affecting me. So it made sense to me that his heartrate was low.

The doctor came in and said they'd feel better about doing a C-section than a vaginal birth. I had heard stories about doctors preferring c-sections, so I asked if that was really necessary. She explained that it was a matter of safety for the baby. I asked when they would do it and she said, "right now."

I was pretty out of it with the magnesium, but Chris later told me that the doctor was clearly in a hurry to get Jake out. Chris could tell that she was trying to act calm for our sake, and make it seem like they just wanted to do a c-section, but it clearly was not a choice. They needed it done, and now.. It was an emergency C-section and I was too out of it to even notice. Chris was rushed to put on his O.R. shower cap thingy and foot booties and they hurried us into the O.R. They numbed me up good and I couldn't move a single muscle from my waist down. I could feel that they were touching me, but there was no pain at all. 

I started panicking because I couldn't feel my feet or move my toes. It's hard to explain, but I have OCD and basically for some reason I felt the need to move my toes, but I couldn’t. So I was mentally freaking out and my only hope was knowing that I would have feeling again soon. I even asked Chris to please move my toes for me. I'm sure the doctors thought I was crazy. I had on an oxygen mask, but Chris could tell I was very upset about it and he kept telling me to breathe. Chris watched them cut me open, which I think is disgusting. When Jake was out, they passed him straight through the NICU window and not even Chris could see him. He said he got a quick glimpse of a blue blob and that's it. The feeling I had was so strange. I was kind of freaking out inside because I wanted to be with my baby and know if he was okay, but the magnesium didn't allow me fight for any of my feelings too much. I told Chris to go be with Jake, but he stayed with me. He probably knew I would freak out if he left me, but ever since then, I've felt so guilty about not making him go. I am a grown adult and Jake is a helpless baby who had never even met either of his parents before. He needed Chris much more than I did. I feel so horrible about that and I hope he wasn't lonely or scared in his new world. If I could go back in time and change the way that happened, I would. I don't even like to think about it and I will spend my whole life making it up to him.

After they stapled me up, they rolled me to the recovery room and that's when Chris felt comfortable leaving me since my sister and my mom were in there with me. He went to see Jacob and I'm sure he fell in love with him on the spot. I had to stay in the recovery room for awhile, just sitting there and being tortured of thoughts of my baby and if he was okay. Once it was time to go back upstairs to my permanent recovery room, they rolled my bed in to see Jake on the way up. I didn't get to hold him because of that stupid magnesium (I guess I was too weak), but I saw him and almost died of love. I couldn't stand how perfect he was. I never did believe in love at first sight until that day.

He was born on Monday, May 11, 2015 at 3:44 p.m. He weighed 3 pounds, 15 ounces, and was 17.5 inches long. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my entire life.

I asked when I would be able to go back down to visit Jake and they told me not until I could walk. I regret just going along with what the nurses said. I didn't know any better, but now I do, and if this ever happens again, I will demand to see my baby. No, I might not be able to walk or get into a wheelchair, but if my bed could be rolled into the NICU once, then it could be rolled in again.

By Tuesday I still hadn't got to go see Jake. But there was a nurse in the NICU named Cindy who told Chris she would bring Jake upstairs to see me. Chris told me what she said and I hoped and prayed it was true. And it was! She brought him upstairs and laid him in my arms and I cried. I wept and I fell in love again. I don't remember anything except just staring at him and thinking how much I loved him. My friend who was there visiting at the time said that I just kept saying how handsome he was, over and over again. And he sure is. I will be forever grateful to Cindy for bringing me my baby and letting me hold him. She said that all the other nurses were asking her if she was allowed to take a baby out of the NICU and asking if it had ever been done before and she just said, "there's no rule against it."

Oh how happy I am that she did that. I am eternally indebted to Cindy. I hope I never ever, ever have to be on magnesium again because, till this very day, I still feel guilty for not being with my baby during his first days in this life.

Finally on Tuesday night, my wonderful nurse, Vanessa, got me up and to the bathroom. Once I could stand up on my own and pee on my own, they would let me be with Jake.

THE NICU

The next 2 and a half weeks were spent mostly in the NICU. I only left to eat and sleep. The night I was discharged (but Jake was not) was a very difficult night... One of the hardest of my entire life. And it didn't get any easier. Some nights I slept at the hospital, and some nights Chris was able to convince me to go home to get some real rest. But every time I left my son's room, even if it was just to eat in the parents' lounge, it was like taking off a bandaid slowly.

Seeing an IV in a tiny hand and a feeding tube in the smallest nose is hard. Every day I looked at my son with love and with guilt. It's a hard thing to explain.

Jake was mostly learning to eat and to keep his body temperature, and then he could come home. In the meantime, I had to learn that every day would be different. Some days were days for him to fight hard. He would eat most of his food without using the tube and he would stay warm. Other days we had to go backwards a little as he rested and got the strength he needed to try again the next day. It felt so hard. There were some days when I just cried and cried and couldn't stop. But there were also moments when I saw the light. After a few days, Jake got a roommate whose parents only spoke Spanish. The hospital was hours from their home and the mother had another child to care for at home. Her situation helped me to be grateful for mine. I spoke English, I didn't have to struggle to understand what the nurses were doing to my baby (it was hard enough seeing my baby in the NICU, and that was without the language barrier). My home was only 30 minutes from the hospital. And I had no other children at home to care for, which meant I could spend more time at the hospital with Jacob. How blessed I truly was.

After the longest 2 and a half weeks of my life, he was discharged and we came home as a family! It was exciting and scary all at once. Exciting because I could finally live a (semi) normal life with my husband and son. I could sleep in the same room as my baby. I could let him meet his cousins. I could fall asleep with him on my chest. I could stare at him for hours without the interruption of beeping noises and tests from machines. I could change his diaper without worrying about IVs and cords getting in the way. But then, it all seemed so scary, him coming home, being around more people, not being monitored constantly. How would I know if his heartrate was too slow? There would be no machine to beep at me if that happened. How would I know if he was eating enough food? What if he wasn't? There would be no tube to feed him the rest. Or what if his oxygen levels were low? No alarm would go off. And what if someone close to him were sick? What if he got sick? All the NICU doctors made it very clear that he could not get sick. He would end up back in the hospital and possibly worse than the first time around. And then there was trying to get people to understand that. I won't even go there. I washed my hands so often that they bled. And I asked others to wash theirs too. My worry for Jacob's wellbeing was constant. But my joy for having him home and healthy and with me was also constant.

Overall, our experience was hard. It taught us patience. It taught us the importance of family and friends for support. And it taught us love. There's a type of love that people talk about. They say it's indescribable. They say you just can't understand it till you have a child of your own. And they say it consumes you completely with perfect joy. Well, they're right.

Marriage and Much More

Alright, I've been married for 6 months today. I guess it's time to finally write about the wedding and honeymoon and how it is being married, right? (It’s probably also time to finish my thank you cards.) That is why I made this blog, to keep a record of what’s going on in my life. I want to be able to look back on it in years to come and remember my life, especially the good times. And maybe my kids’ll even be interested in it someday.

Okay, so, I got married on July 12th of last year (yes, it’s now 2014!). And it’s been just great so far. I’ll admit, I was a little worried. But then again, when am I not worried? I’m the queen on worrying! But it really has been wonderful. I love being married! And I’m not just talking about physical benefits here. I love having someone who is mine, who I can tell anything to. Someone who helps me and supports me and works with me to meet goals. Life is less lonely for me this way. Not that I was ever really lonely before. I had great roommates. And before that, great mission companions, and before that, more great roommates and of course my amazing family. Life has been good to me. But I do quite enjoy being married and starting a new part of my life.

Our Love Story

Chris and I met in the Spring of 2009. I was going to BYU and when I came home for the “Summer” (which was actually Spring since BYU gets out so early), I noticed a really cute boy who spent a lot of time at my house. He was friends with Steve, my brother-in-law at the time. And since he was at my house often, I met him and got to know him a little. The first time we really ever talked, we talked ’til 2 or 3 in the morning. I remember sitting at the kitchen table with Chris and my sister Heidi, talking about random things. And then somehow the topic of church came up and Chris mentioned that he didn’t think people should have to wear dresses and skirts and suits and ties to church. He said it shouldn’t be a fashion contest. I told him I disagreed (about what to wear, not the fashion contest. I agree quite fully about the fashion contest part) and gave him my reasoning. I told him that I go to church to worship God, so why wouldn’t I wear my best clothes to do that, to show respect? If my best clothes were a pair of tattered jeans and a t-shirt, and I weren’t wealthy enough to buy new clothes, then great. God would be happy with me to wear what I have. But for most of us, our best clothes are nicer, and so I think we should wear them to show respect to Him who created us and gave us life, especially when we go to His house. Chris saw my point and said he hadn’t looked at it that way before. But we agreed that even still, people should be trying to put on a fashion contest at church.

So that’s how our relationship started. A nice, friendly debate about what to wear to church. We started hanging out after that. Going to the movies. Taking rides on my parents' golf cart around the neighborhood. Going to the park (that’s where we first held hands).

But things started getting slightly complicated, at least for me. I didn’t want to get too attached to someone I wouldn’t want a serious relationship with. And I didn’t want a serious relationship with someone I didn’t want to marry. And I didn’t want to marry someone who I couldn’t be sealed to, in the temple. I wanted my marriage to last forever. But Chris wasn’t a member of my Church. He didn’t have my same beliefs about temples and marriage for time and all eternity. So I tried to keep my emotional distance, but it was hard. I was indeed falling for him. Another complication was that I knew, deep down in my heart, that I needed to serve a mission. I didn’t want to, but I knew needed to. And privately, spiritually, I was preparing to do just that. That would mean I would leave for a year and a half. That’s another complication in a serious relationship.

One day, Chris mentioned that he hadn’t been to church in a long time and that he wanted to start going back. He grew up as a Lutheran, but I still told him he could come to my church if he ever wanted to. And since he was living with Heidi and Steve, I told him to go with them on Sunday. I would have just asked him if he wanted to come with me and even picked him up, but I was leaving town to go to Europe for two weeks. And I knew that if I couldn’t take him, then the best bet for getting him to church was with Heidi. So I told her to take him with her and I left for my trip, praying he would go and like it and begin to understand the eternal things that I understood (at least as much as a naive 21-year-old could understand about the things of God).

In the meantime, what I didn’t know, was that he had called up his high school friend, Kyle, who he remembered was a Mormon, and told him he liked a girl who was Mormon and wanted to know more about our church. So Kyle (who had just recently been reactivated and was preparing to go on a mission) invited him to a fireside. Chris went along, of course. He loved bon fires! He was quite confused when he realized there was no fire nor beach. But the speaker at the fireside that night spoke to him, almost as if the whole talk was directed at him. He felt the Spirit and wanted to feel it more.

Chris called me while I was on the airplane about to take off for France. I told him I had to go since the flight attendants were telling everyone to turn off all electronic devices. And he said something like, “Okay, I just wanted to tell you I went to a fireside last night with my friend, and I liked it.” So of course, I couldn’t hang up then. If I did, then it would be 10 hours until I could talk to him again. And even then, it would only be through email. He had caught my interest. I quickly asked him how he ended up at a fireside and what he had learned and if he wanted to learn more. And he said yes! So I told him I’d have the missionaries call him. He didn’t know what missionaries were. So I said that 2 guys, about his age, would be calling him to set up an appointment to teach him more. I hurried and hung up with him and called the missionaries as I heard the announcement over the loud speaker, for the 2nd time, to turn off all electronic devices. I called the missionaries in Heidi’s ward and gave them Chris’s number and trusted that they’d take it from there. And they did. They passed him on to the singles ward missionaries and started teaching them. I didn’t ask much about it during my 2 weeks away.

While I was in Europe, Chris and I could only talk through email and I didn’t want to pry too much, so I mostly left it alone, but he told me he was meeting with the missionaries. When I got home, I asked him if I could join in on one of their discussions. When I did, I was very surprised to hear one of the elders mentioned Chris’s baptism. I said, “you’re getting baptized? Why didn’t you tell me!?” He just didn’t realize what a big deal that was for me. I guess he just didn’t understand what that meant for me. That meant that I could let myself love him in a way I hadn’t before. That meant I could get attached. That meant he believed what I believed. That meant everything to me.

A few months later, when Chris told me he wanted to go on a mission, I felt the delicious stab of bitter-sweetness. I was so happy because that meant I could more easily leave him to serve the mission that I also knew I needed to serve. But it also meant that we would be away from each other for 2 years. No phone calls, no video chats, nothing of the sort. Only letters, sent through the mail. Snail mail. But we did it. We prepared together and made ourselves ready. We both left at age 22, a little “late” especially for Chris. But it was worth the sacrifice. Chris left in January 2011 and I left just barely less than a month later in February. Luckily, Chris was only in the MTC for 3 weeks. One week longer, and we would have been in there at the same time, unable to hug or kiss or show affection of any kind.

Our missions were great. We both loved our time as full time missionaries and we love the people we served. We kept in touch. We stayed in love. We wrote letters every P day (and maybe we emailed each other a little too). When I got home, almost 5 months before him, I found a job at Deseret Book and kept myself busy until school started in January. January was also when Chris returned.

Side note: He had a long layover in Salt Lake City on his way home and so Dennis and Heidi and our dear friend Lorena and I took Chris out to dinner. I was so happy to see him. The first time in two years! And it was only a little awkward.

Chris went home to his family for a few weeks. I went home for his homecoming and we finally kissed. Everything between us seemed slightly awkward until, while at dinner with my family, my sister-in-law Hope said, “so, have you guys kissed yet?” When we left the restaurant, he kissed me out front while waiting for everyone. Things became normal between us again. Then Chris moved to Utah to “go to school.” School didn’t start for him until after we were married. He just wanted to be closer to me. And I wanted him to be closer to me, too. We dated again. We talked about marriage. It was scary, of course, but we decided to do it.

He proposed to me on the beach in California, right next to Life Guard post 16 (at Huntington Beach). We were home for a few days during my school break and we had had a bonfire with his family and mine. After they all left, we lingered. I honestly had no idea. Now that I look back, I should have known, but it was better that I didn’t. More romantic. He was so nervous and cute.

That’s the story. Our “love” story. At least the beginning.

Our Wedding Day

We got married on July 12, 2013. It was a short and stressful engagement, but well worth it. We married in the Newport Beach California Temple and I was so nervous I hardly remember anything the sealer said. I do remember I forgot my temple recommend and so we had a late start. After the sealing we took pictures, then headed to the Stake Center for our Ring Ceremony and Reception. The food was tamales, salad, rice, and beans. It was perfect. It was a happy day.

The Honeymoon

We got 4 days and 5 nights in the #1 all-inclusive resort in Cancun, Mexico. Le Blanc. It was wonderful. I could have definitely used more time there, but I won't complain. We were so blessed to even be able to go anywhere!

It was definitely the best treatment I've ever received. They had someone at the airport to pick us up which made things so easy. We started talking to our driver and I discovered he was LDS but hadn't been to church in a long time. I invited him to go that Sunday. We wanted to go to. And we planned on it. But we ended up sleeping through Sunday morning. Whoops. I hope he went, but I guess I'll never know.

When we got to the hotel to check in, they immediately greeted us with cool, wet wash cloths (since it's hot and humid outside) and leche de coco. Chris was immediately addicted and drank at least 6 a day for the rest of the trip. When we got to the room, they had the TV on, playing calming music, and a free bottle of wine waiting for us. We traded it for ginger ale. Actually we had all the beer and alcohol in the mini fridge traded out for sprite and ginger ale and other yummy stuff. They refilled it every day with soda and candy bars. We could order free room service whenever we wanted or we could go to one of the many restaurants at the resort.

We went to each restaurant at least once and they were all amazing. Literally the best food I've ever had. The stake at the international restaurant melted in my mouth. It was so tender I barely even had to chew it. And I am not exaggerating. The French restaurant served like a 7 course meal and the Oriental restaurant even had vegetarian sushi for me.

We spent most of our time at the resort on the beach. We only went on an outing one day and then went shopping in downtown Cancun. I loved the day we went out on the town. We took the bus and I felt like I was back in Merida.

One day we took a tour to Tolum to see the Maya Ruins. It was beautiful. It was Chris’s first time and I was so happy to share the experience with him. Our tour guide told us much of Maya history and beliefs. They believe that the creators of man were twin brothers. When we heard it, Chris and I looked at each other in awe. All things, even myths and fairy tails and the beliefs of every culture, point to the truth, at least in part. Isn’t it in the scriptures that Christ looks like God the Father? Twins. Who created man together. Yes, it sounds right. There is truth in it. Chris and I want to go back and learn more, take more tours. Maybe some day we’ll have money and be able to do it. Who knows!

Worry and Peace

I do NOT have time to be writing a blog right now. But I just have to write my feelings somewhere. I'm getting married on Friday--as in the day after tomorrow--and I have a list of about 100 things to get done, 20 of which I planned on getting done last night. But none of that happened. I got only one thing done, and that was making my bed. And technically I didn't even do it. Kelly did because she needed a place to sleep. Why, you might ask, could I get nothing done last night? Because I was stricken with worry.

Let me make sure all the facts are straight so that my future self isn't confused as I read this. Today is Wednesday. (and P.S. it's 6:26 AM... I didn't even wake up this early on the mission! I got 4 more minutes than this!) Okay, so today is Wednesday and I am in California. Chris and I drove here yesterday. Well, Heidi and Dennis left on Monday, but they stopped to go camping for a night so we weren't expecting them until last night. But they never showed up.

Anybody who knows me for at least 5 minutes knows that I am a worrier. I get it from my dad, who gets it from my grandma. I'm glad she's in Heaven and didn't have to suffer through the worry all night like I did.

Okay, so yesterday I texted Heidi expecting an update of where they were and how the trip was going, as I always get from her on road trips. But she never responded. Noon came around and I figured she just hadn't looked at her phone yet. Busy doing mom stuff or driving. Then 2 o' clock and still nothing. Then 5. Then 6. Then 7. Still nobody had heard anything. Then midnight came and went and still no sign of Heidi or Dennis. Nobody had heard from them ALL day. Not a text or a Facebook post or nothin'. So, I was worried... to say the least. And most of the time--probably about 100% of the time--when I worry, nobody else is worried. I'm usually the only one. And now that I think about it, that probably means my worries are usually, if not always, irrational. But last night, my mom was worried. And Kelly was worried. And Dianne was worried. And even Robert was worried. If Robert was worried, then I know I'm justified, because that man is just plain care-free! So, now that we were all worried, I was just straight going loco. I was thinking about all the horrible possibilities of what could have happened and why they weren't reachable. That could be a whole blog post of its own--all the stories happening in my head of horrible things that happened to Heidi and Dennis and the boys. Dennis's phone just went straight to voicemail, which is never a good sign. And Heidi's just kept ringing and ringing. I even tried to FaceTime the boys on their iPhone and iPad. Nothin'.

I had already said about 200 prayers by this point and could not get anything on my to-do list done because every time I thought about doing something productive, I would just curl on my bed and pray that my sister and her family were OK. So finally, I got down on my knees and gave God a real prayer. Then I felt like I should read the Book of Mormon to calm my nerves. So I pulled it up on my phone and pressed play in 2 Nephi chapter 2, right where I left off last time. But for some reason I just felt like I should skip a few chapters. Something about chapter 6 felt right, which anybody knows is strange for me. It never feels right for a person with OCD to skip a few chapters and start somewhere where I just haven't gotten to yet. But it felt better in chapter 6. So I pressed play and listened.

The first scripture that caught my interest was verse 3: "Nevertheless I speak unto you again; for I am desirous for the welfare of your souls. Yea, mine anxiety is great for you; and ye yourselves know that it ever has been."

I was like, hey! That's exactly how I feel. My anxiety is flaring up and you guys know that I feel this way because there is no way Heidi doesn't know that I'm not worried right now.

So then I kept reading. When I got to verse 9, my ears perked again. "Nevertheless, the Lord has shown unto me that they should return again..."

I felt peace. It was the first time in hours. But I felt it. And something deep inside me just knew that Heidi and Dennis and my boys would return. Now that I think about it, I should have gotten on my knees again and said a prayer of thanks. But I was so relieved to know they would return that I finally got a little sleep in. Even though I knew, deep down, that everything would be okay, I was still a little worried, because I'm psycho and nothing can relieve my anxiety, not even God telling me straight up that everything is going to be okay. Yeah, I have some problems I need to work on. So anyway, I finally fell asleep, but by this point, there were other people involved in the anxiety-fest.

Kelly woke me up and asked if I'd heard from them yet. Still no word. So we took logical action and called the police department near Bryce Canyon (where we knew they had camped the night before) and asked them to just send someone out to look for their car. They said it was too dark and it would have to wait till 6 AM. So even though I had had my moment of peace, I still started to worry again. Typical me.

This morning, a little after 5 AM I got a text from Heidi. Hallelujah!!! They had stopped to go camping another night in Capitol Reef and didn't have any service. Now they are on their way home and ETA is 5 PM.

I feel so much better--which is why I had to write in this blog. I feel relieved. And I feel grateful. And I feel more empathy toward those poor people that have family members missing and haven't heard from them in days, weeks, months, or even years. The feeling I had for one night was bad enough. I can't even imagine feeling it for any longer... not even if I  were normal and didn't have anxiety.

I love my family.

Beauty

A few weeks ago, I was at my sister's house, hanging out with 3 of my nephews. They love me. What!? I'm just being honest. They do. And I love them! Soooooo much! So, the day I was with them also just happened to be a day when I was feeling, well, let's just say "not pretty." You know those days when you just feel ugly? But I didn't really care too much, but my nephews (ages 7, 5, and less than 1) don't care what I look like. They love playing with me on my best days when I'm dressed up and pretty, on my tired days when I'm in my PJs, on my sweaty days when I just got back from a run, and on my bad days when I'm feeling ugly. They'll even wake me up at the wee hours of the morning to play with me while I'm still asleep. So, needless to say, it really didn't matter to them that I didn't look my best that day.

I don't even remember what we were doing, probably playing UNO or watching a movie, but I remember thinking to myself, one day, these boys are gonna grow up and be embarrassed of me on my ugly days. The thought disturbed me, but nonetheless, it was true. Or so I thought.

That night when I went home, I was sitting in my living room doing some homework when my roommate told me she had just read an awesome blog and wanted to read it out loud to me. Here's the link:

http://offbeatfamilies.com/2012/11/telling-daughters-im-beautiful#

This blog says it all. I don't really have much else to say except that our kids are who we make them. Yes, they have agency and personality and they are their own person. But really, for the most part, their attitude about life comes from us and what we say. And if I say I am beautiful, then I never have to worry about my nieces and nephews growing up and realizing that I'm not as beautiful as they always thought I was. Because I am as beautiful as they always thought I was.

Utah

I love living in Provo. I know, it's crazy, right? Most people I talk to here will say things like, "I can't wait to get out of Provo" or "The second I graduate, I'm getting out of this town," And I would imagine that if I talked about liking it here, people might even say, "wait, you like living here?" It's a widely made-fun-of place in all of Utah. But here's the truth, Provo is cool. I haven't always thought it was cool. In fact, I hated it when I first moved here. I used to feel the way that some other people do. I used to make fun of Provo and the people who live here. I hated the culture, the weather, the size, the proximity to other places, the everything. And honestly, every once in a while I feel like that still. Who doesn't get that way about the place where they live every once in a while, right? I don't know exactly how I went through the change of hating it to enjoying it. But I do remember one day, I was complaining to my roommate about all of the snow outside and she said something like, "yeah, but just look at the trees covered in fresh snow. It's beautiful! Maybe tomorrow it will be ugly again, when the snow falls off and you can see the dead branches again. But right now it's beautiful!" Of course I vocally denied everything she said. But she had a valid point. And her simple statement sparked the beginning of a change not only for my attitude about Provo, but for my attitude about life. I know it sounds cheesy, and it is. But honestly, that's when I started to see things differently.

From then on, every time I saw the fresh snow on the tree branches, I would remember how beautiful it was instead of how cold I was. I made a commitment to stop having such a negative attitude about Provo... about Utah... about life in general. I decided I would look at things with a different heart. When I saw the snow, I saw the beauty of an individual snowflake rather than how cold it would be to walk to school that day. When I thought of all the Mormons, I thought how cool is was to be surrounded by people with my same values rather than how weird it was that everybody was the same religion. When I had an encounter with a bad Utah driver, I thought maybe she's just learning to drive. When I remembered there is no ocean nearby, I thought about the other cool things I could do, like hike Mt. Timp. or go to the hot springs. When I thought about the people who lived in a bubble, I remembered my 2 roommates from Utah who are THE coolest people I know and remembered that it doesn't matter where you're from, you can still be awesome. The list goes on, and some of my negative thoughts I will have to leave out as to not offend too many people. But the point is that I learned that I was being stupid before. I had a stereotypical view about a great place and a generally good group of people. Eventually my attitude changed. Eventually I liked it here and I loved the people.

So my attitude started changing a few years ago. But tonight I was shown why I really love it here. I went to dinner with my roommates to celebrate our love for Bronwyn, who's moving back to CA in a few days. On our way home, Bronwyn and I saw a car stopped in the middle of the street with its emergency lights on. We assumed it was an car accident, but then noticed a girl lying in the street. A pedestrian had been hit. There were a few people surrounding her and when we looked closely we noticed that there were 2 men with their hands on her head, giving her a Priesthood blessing. In that moment, I felt the Spirit so strongly. It was like I could feel the power of the Priesthood coming from across the street and into my heart. And I realized, this is why I really like Provo.

I know there are men all over the world who hold the Priesthood, but it's not common for a place to be so filled with them that the majority of the people on a random emergency scene would be able to offer a blessing at a moment's notice. It was so powerful to see that.

In what other place could you walk down the street and knock on whatever door you want and most likely find a worthy Priesthood holder? I don't know how, exactly, to put it into words, but it was one of the more powerful experiences I've had in my life and definitely strengthened my testimony. I know that God has given men on this earth the ability to use His power righteously. And I know that is possible through Jesus Christ, the Savior of the World.

One of Those Days

Today was one of those days. You know the kind I'm talking about. I think everyone does. I'm stressed about everything. It seems ridiculous, especially when I think about the difficult circumstances in which so many of the people on this earth live in every single day. Life could be so much worse for me. And I am so grateful for the blessings I have. But you know those days when you just feel so stressed out that you forget that there are thousands of people in this world who have much worse problems? You forget how wonderful your own life really is. Today was one of those days. But that's about to change. Right now. And I'll tell you how. But let me start at the beginning.

First off, I fell asleep on the couch last night, which means I didn't finish doing what I wanted to do yesterday. So it was a bad start. Then I woke up late and missed my first class of the day. I skipped breakfast and hurried to school to finish a group project for a class later on. Of course there was plenty of technical difficulties with the project, including printing it. Printing was a nightmare. I didn't even know that something so easy could be so difficult until today.

It was hard enough trying to work on a group project using a computer program I don't even understand. To add to it, my mind was elsewhere... not on the project. My mind was on the fact that I have 2 late assignments to finish for a different class. And that I have no idea what's going on in another class. And that I'm worried about my family. And my future. And that I need to work out today but don't really have time. And that my room is a mess (actually, that one wasn't on my mind... I just thought of it now while writing, but now that I think of it, it is quite stressful). And that I have 10 goals I need to reach this week, but don't know if I will. And that I need to get stuff done for my church calling. And for a volunteer project I'm doing. And I need to spend time with my loved ones. Oh gosh, the list goes on. You get it.

Of course, while trying to get stuff done, I realized how hungry I was from not having eaten anything today. I didn't have time to pack a lunch, so I went to the cafeteria to buy lunch again... even though I didn't want to spend more money, and probably shouldn't. I also realized I had to pee. And since it's one of those days, of course the bathroom had to be the worse experience of it all. The automatic toilet flushed before I even sat down. Then once more while sitting on the toilet. And twice more once I was finished. Then when I went to wash my hands, the automatic water came out much too hard and splashed me for the whole 30 seconds while washing my hands. And then of course, the automatic towels wouldn't come out... no matter how many times I swiped my hand in the air in front of it and even touched the stinkin' sensor. So I used the air dryer. And we all know how good those things work.

So there's a picture of my day for you. I am now sitting in the corner of a building on campus writing this blog so that I can get my feelings out and move on to get something productive done. But I can't end without the most important part! It gets better. Okay, not really. It'll probably even get a little worse from here, but like I said, I'm going to change my attitude.

First off, I got a text from my roommate reminding me of a wonderful blog I read yesterday. Here's the link: http://www.daringyoungmom.com/2012/12/19/drops-of-awesome/  Read it!!! It's so good! So After remembering that, I thought about how I could make my day go better.

Then I texted my boyfriend to tell him about my stressful day and his words of encouragement were a quote from one of my favorite discourses:

"In all of these cases there should never be just two options: perfection or giving up. When learning the piano, are the only options performing at Carnegie Hall or quitting? No. Growth and development take time. Learning takes time. When we understand grace, we understand that God is long-suffering, that change is a process, and that repentance is a pattern in our lives. When we understand grace, we understand that the blessings of Christ’s Atonement are continuous and His strength is perfect in our weakness (see 2 Corinthians 12:9). When we understand grace, we can, as it says in the Doctrine and Covenants, 'continue in patience until [we] are perfected' (D&C 67:13)."

(here's the link: http://speeches.byu.edu/?act=viewitem&id=1966)

And so I see that my attitude is stupid and I need to change. I need to be happy and realize what this life is all about. The world isn't out to get me. But God is out to change me and I need to be more humble and willing to let that happen. I need to learn from my mistakes and become better every day. Every moment. Earlier today was bad, but now will be better. So I fail a class? I try again next semester. So I get a little wet from the annoying automatic sink in the bathroom? I wipe myself off and move on. So I had a bad morning? Tomorrow I'll make it better. And so life goes. How grateful I am for my family and friends who always remind me what is important in life and what really matters.

A Normal Day

7 Dec. 2012

Tonight was hilarious. I’ll start at the beginning of my day, mmmk? So, I woke up this morning with only one of my diamond earrings in my ear. That got me out of bed fast and I definitely didn’t accidentally sleep just a little too late like I normally do. (Oh, and let me note that not even a month ago, my dad decided to sell the earrings on my ears. Of course he felt bad about it and replaced them with an even bigger pair of diamonds… bigger than I’ve ever worn before). So, needless to say, I was a little worried about one being lost in the clothing that needs to be put away/letters from Chris/blankets mess on my bed. I went to the bathroom first, so I could actually concentrate on anything other than my bladder about to burst. As I peed, I worried that the diamond could have been stuck to my PJs (and possibly fallen in the toilet when I sat down). So of course I looked through my own urine before flushing the toilet. TMI? If so, then sorry. So anyway, then I went back to my bed on the search for the diamond. I pulled my blanket up and saw the back of the earing laying… lying… laying… not sure which word to use, but anyway, the back of the earring was there. So I was like, “Okay, that was easy, the front can’t be that far away.” I turned my head and there it was, neatly placed on my nightstand next to my bed. What a miracle! As soon as I saw it there, I suddenly remembered what seemed like a dream just a few hours before. I had woken up in the middle of the night (in what I thought was a dream at the moment), felt that my earring was off, reached around the bed in the dark with my eyes shut, found the earring, and set it on the nightstand for morning when I would have the mental capacity to put the earring back on. So, it turns out, I knew where it was the whole time. Or at least my subconscious mind did.

So, then I said a prayer thanking Father in Heaven for helping me to find that small earring (except, like I said, it was kind of a big one). And then I took a shower and went downstairs and contemplated what to eat for breakfast for about 15 minutes. Nothing looked yummy? But could I eat nothing? No. Okay then. Eggs? Yogurt? No Cinnamon Toast Crunch, so is it even worth it to eat anything else? No. But I’m hungry. Okay, eggs. Scrambled. In a tortilla… a breakfast burrito! So I made that real fast and then hurried off to work. This is the story of my life ever since my mom told me that it wasn’t healthy eating so much Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Work was good. Uneventful yet busy. Oh, but I’ll pause my day here to tell you about my day at work yesterday. That one was indeed eventful. It was CRAZY busy. It seemed like every Mormon in the OC was at there shopping for Christmas presents. And none of them knew what they wanted, so of course, they came to us employees for advice. So I was running around non-stop, which I really don’t mind. I like being busy. About half-way through the day, I was behind the counter checking people out (not to see how hot they were, but so they could pay and get on home). Well, one lady asked me about a Christmas CD as she checked out and wanted to know if it was worth buying. I told her I listened to it all the time on my mission and that I absolutely loved it, which is true (David Archuleta Christmas CD). But that’s beside the point. When I mentioned a mission, I saw a spark in her eyes. She started to ask me more questions. Where did I serve? Spanish speaking? Did I like it? Was I dating a boy before I left? (Woah, we’re getting personal here!) Did he wait for me? What’s happening now? Are we still together? Why did you decide to do that? There were a few people waiting in line behind her, but I wasn’t too worried about her many questions since I was answering them as I checked her out and she had lots of stuff, so I still wasn’t done checking her out. Phil, on the register next to me, couldn’t check anybody out because of a lady determined to use a gift card with no barcode or way of redeeming it. Debbie, our supervisor was helping that situation. That’s not the point. The point is that I had to hurry so I could check out the rest of the customers.

“So, your boyfriend waited for you?”

“Well, he left also to serve a mission. He’s still gone. He’ll be back in January.” I explained quickly.

“So what’s going to happen when he gets back? Are you going to… you know… continue to…” She couldn’t find the words. I decided to help her out.

“Yes, we plan on dating again. I think the sparks will still be there.”

“Oh.” She said and looked disappointed with my answer. Well, that was a different response. Here’s the normal response of people: “No way! That’s so cool that you guys both went on missions and waited for each other! So are you gonna get married?! How exciting!!!”

So yeah, I was a bit curious why this lady was asking so many questions and why she seemed so very interested in the life of a random girl behind the counter checking her out of the bookstore. And to add to my interest, I wanted to know why she seemed so disappointed in me. Or was it in me? Okay, so maybe I started scanning her stuff a little more slowly, just so I could hear her story. Maybe not, I’m not sure. It’s definitely a possibility. Somehow, her story came out. All of it. Her son was 30. He had dated a nice young lady for 9 years. This woman (the woman in the bookstore) really liked her son’s longtime girlfriend. But they had broken up just a month before. Now he was dating a 23 year old girl who was about to leave for a mission. I could hear the anger in her voice as she spoke of this girl. “She’s playing with his heart! Why would she date him if she’s leaving for a year and a half? They’ve only been together for a month!” And then she started crying. I don’t know what I did or said at this point, but this poor woman somehow felt that she could trust me enough to cry to me and tell me the deepest worries of her heart. I asked more about her son and she told me he was a good boy. Active in the Church. But I think she really wanted him married. To the ex-girlfriend. Like 5 years ago. I told her that he would make the right decision (of whether to wait for this girl or not). She didn’t seem comforted, but she did seem calmer. Maybe because she got out her thoughts or maybe because she, too, felt that everything would be okay. So she cried and told me more about how she was feeling. The lady in line behind her was at least 15 feet back and I don’t know if she could hear anything this woman was saying to me. I highly doubt she knew the woman was crying, or else she wouldn’t have said was she said.

She rolled her eyes, moved her hand in a circular motion as if to say to hurry up the process and said, “Could you speed it up a little? I have a back problem.” I’m sure I looked embarrassed. I really wanted to tell this waiting lady to go take a seat on the comfy couch and that I’d call her up when I was done with this customer, but I thought maybe my supervisor would overhear me and think I were rude. So instead, I just looked blankly at her, and then back at the crying lady and I think I said again, “Everything will be okay.” The crying lady looked confused and said, “Did she just tell you to hurry up?” I didn’t want to say yes, but then again, I didn’t want to lie. So I kind of just nodded. I told the crying lady her total and reassured her yet again that everything would work out. I so badly wanted to say, “Hey, just go wait at the door and when I’m done checking out this next grumpy lady, I will come over there and we can talk and you can pour out your soul to me.” But I just couldn’t get myself to say something so very strange to an absolute stranger. So she left with tears in her eyes and all I said was, “have a good day!” Oh it was a horrible feeling. Then Mrs. Impatient came up. I began to ring her up. “I want that bowl over there,” she pointed to a bright yellow, beautiful bowl on a high shelf that she couldn’t reach, but that I probably could.

“Mmm k,” I said. And I went to get it. Then I went to scan it. No barcode. I looked for a SKU number. No number. Great, I thought, this is just what we need right now. I hurried to look for the bowl in the computer system, but found nothing. The impatience of this lady was not improving. She babbled on about how she was in a hurry and just wanted to get out of the store. My pride didn’t allow me to say sorry just yet, only to say that we were really busy with Christmas so near and that I couldn’t ring up the bowl with no SKU. I felt just as annoyed (by the fact that this woman had interrupted a poor, crying lady) as she did (by the fact that she was not getting in and out of that bookstore fast enough). What I failed to recognize was that maybe Mrs. Impatient was struggling deeply with one of her own burdens and just never got the opportunity to let it out, at least not in that moment. I eventually found the SKU for the yellow bowl and I think I also apologized to the lady for the long wait. She left in a bad mood. And I stayed at work in a bad mood… for a few seconds at least… until I was rushing to help another customer again. With lots to do, I soon forgot about the bad mood situation. I was going to the back to find a book. To the computer to see if we had something in stock. To the register to check a price. Back to the back to find another book. Answering questions. To the back again. To the phone to give someone directions. Then to a friendly customer with lots more requests and lots of questions. But that’s never a problem. That’s why I’m there! So I answered. I found. I looked. I helped. I tried at least. And then I rung her up. She thanked me over and over again for helping her and “running around and finding everything” she had requested. I liked doing it for her. She had a gracious attitude and it made me feel productive and useful. Then she bought me a truffle to say thank you. I tried to refuse, but you can only refuse so many times without offending. That made my day. I felt so grateful to work with and work for such nice people. She was an answer to my unspoken prayer. No more bad mood.

So, that was all yesterday. Back to my uneventful day today. I went to work. Then after work I went to my sister Kelly’s house to help her clean. Things go back to a normal level of eventfulness now. She was having the missionaries and a family they’re teaching over for dinner and wanted her house to look… not how it normally looks (which is really messy). So we cleaned for a few hours and I bossed the kids around giving them chores to do. I was going to stay for dinner, but my brother Ryan texted me and told me that Penelope (his daughter) wanted me to come to their ward Christmas party that night because she would be performing. So of course I said yes, especially with everything Ryan, Penelope, and Victoria are going through right now (divorce). They need all the support they can possibly get. And I want them to know that I am here for them. I want them to know they have an advocate. Of course they ALWAYS have Christ. But I think Christ would want me to be there too.

And boy, am I grateful I went to that Christmas dinner tonight. It was absolutely hilarious. All the kids preformed something. The Boy Scouts, a few songs using metal chimes (each kid had his own note). The Activity Days girls, a dance. That’s when Penelope performed. The Young Women, a Christmas song sung to their new, made-up lyrics. The Young Men, a Christmas song with each young man on a different instrument. And lastly, the junior primary, the story of Christ’s birth… the Christmas story… the Nativity. And it was the story as I’ve never seen it before. It started with all the kids dressed as Angels, except for a few. There were 2 narrators, a Mary, and a Joseph. The narrators mumbled into the microphone as little kids usually do, reading the story of Mary and Joseph. And they paused every couple of sentences so the other kids could act out what they spoke. Everything looked very nice. All the kid angels sitting in a very organized fashion in the corner. And the 2 narrators, dressed nicely, in the opposite corner with their microphone. The adults off to the side, hardly being seen. And then one narrator told the part of the story when an angel came to Mary to tell her that she was pregnant. When the primary boy dressed as an angel came onto the stage, he too looked very nice in his costume. But he clumsily scurried into the middle of the stage while dragging a chair behind him. He tripped over his chair and pulled it to where Mary was standing. He loudly set the chair down and then stood up on the chair to be tall like an angel and started to say his line, “Mary, you’re going to have a b—.” He couldn’t seem to finish his sentence without laughing. He said it maybe 5 more times, each time laughing before he could say the word “baby.” Finally, an adult came over to him with a piece of paper and whispered for him to read his line. The boy said into the microphone, “I know what to say, I just can’t say it,” and then he laughed again. The cutest giggle that got the whole crowd laughing too. “I can’t help it.” This poor kid was trying so hard, but he just couldn’t say his line without laughing. He finally got it out with a lot of laughter (from both him and the crowd). Then the narrator said that the angel went to Joseph too. The same problem occurred when this boy had to tell Joseph that Mary was going to have a ba—. Again, he couldn’t get it out. I sat in the front row, laughing and laughing. The boy’s dad was beside me, videotaping (do we use that phrase still? Videotaping? It was actually recording on his iPhone. Same thing, right?) and his mother sat behind me rolling her eyes at her silly son. The whole situation was just hilarious. Next came the part where Mary and Joseph go to a stable and Jesus is born. Mary and Joseph went and stood under the stable. Then the narrator said, “There was a cow.” The second narrator simply said, “Moo” with absolutely no animation in her voice.

“And there was a chicken.”

“Bock bock.” Totally monotone.

“And there was a sheep.”

“Baaaaahhh.”

Then, as directed by the adult leaders, all the little angels went and stood under the stable. Then the stable fell. The roof just dropped right on top of all the kids. The whole crowd gasped. The kids were fine. They were mostly giggling. The show must go on. But the kids were so distracted that nobody could say their lines. The whole thing was just so funny. Maybe you had to be there. I dunno? But just try to imagine it, because if you can see it the way I saw it, you will be laughing for hours! Do you think it’s as funny as I do? I just can’t stop laughing about it. So there’s my entertaining day for you.