gina prescott

It makes me even more tired.

Mondays look like this around here.

Monday has become my deep-clean-the-house day, the whole time I want to throw everything away and drive off with only the necessities in our car like we did last winter. It was so refreshing to have so little.

I find myself  a midst the cleaning and the yawning wondering if I am doing it right, this whole motherhood gig. It is an inevitable question.  So many Facebook links shared, telling us not to worry we are doing enough, but they also shout out solutions on sleep, eating, discipline, potty-training and it is so easy to feel overwhelmed with the amount of information of what we COULD be doing.

After Max was born, that pressure to be doing it right, not to impress the world, but to raise a happy, healthy, child was overwhelming. The judgement to “do it right,” felt intense. Slowly though, and still slowly to this day, I am learning to take a step back from all of the information, the noise, the suggestions and opinions. I am learning to let go of expectations and lean into making choices based on a combination of instinct and intention.

I want to parent intentionally. I desire to move forward, consciously trying to improve upon myself as a mother. This means reading those essays, books, and articles. This means talking to friends and studying things out in my mind at the end of the day. What worked? What didn’t? This means thinking critically about how my children interact with the world and how to help them navigate being a positive force for good within it.

To do this, I must trust my instinct, that internal compass (the Holy Ghost) for direction. It is the force that helps me sort through what to listen to. It is the driving factor that keeps me thinking and searching, knowing that I must keep trying to improve.

So, I am tired. But I am not tired because of all the information anymore and the pressure to do it right. I am tired because motherhood is tiring. Mothering with intent and instinct is tiring. That effort to try harder, to learn more, to be a better mother for your unique, individual children is hard work.

I believe that this hard work is worth it. It is worth it because parenting with intention is my effort, and I know His grace fills in the gaps. As I try, He completes, perfects and covers my mistakes and weaknesses. Because not only does He care about me, but He cares about the little ones I am raising as well.

He wants us to succeed.

My mind is refreshed and energized knowing that His love is there to make us whole, that we may return to Him, for that is His intention.

-This boy turning 7 months on Wednesday! That’s basically a year old! After that they graduate high
  school! 😉

-These eyes. I have looked hard and deep and there is not a single ounce of color other than blue in
  these irises.

– A haircut that makes going without showering MUCH easier (I went three whole days wearing it
  down! Gross or awesome? To me, totally awesome.)

-Max waking me up one morning to tell me, “When I got scared last night, I prayed to Heavenly
  Father and I wasn’t scared anymore!” The reality of raising a child of God hits me hard sometimes.

This past weekend I had the opportunity to attend a baptism of a friend.

When we first moved here, when my belly was round and my heart anxious I was asked to visit someone who had moved here from China for marriage. Anna had met her husband online and knowing no English moved to America, to a tiny town in central Washington. She graciously welcomed us into her home and we struggled to communicate using an iPad and phone. This is also how she spoke to her husband and it confused me a great deal. I felt sorry for this woman, there was no one in this town that we knew of who spoke Chinese. I visited her every so often and as did others. She started coming to church and would stay only for the first hour, where we would partake of the sacrament.

Fast forward a bit, I had a baby, we discovered someone who had served a mission in Taiwan and spoke her dialect of Chinese (a miracle!). Through discussions with friends and missionaries and through the spirit I saw this woman light up within. It was not a quick transition, but when I came to a lesson (via phone with sister missionaries in Salt Lake City) they asked her to close the lesson in prayer. I, of course, could not understand a single word, but it was unmistakable feeling the spirit of that prayer.

Her baptism was beautiful. She was glowing and the room was packed. Afterwards, she was asked to share her testimony and through our wonderful translator we were all able to hear and understand where she came from and where she was now.

She said that there is saying in China that anyone who comes to America from China is like a mute because they cannot speak English, they are deaf because they do not understand English, they are blind because they cannot read English. When she first moved here she said she was so sad. She was lost and felt invisible because she could not speak, or hear, or read. But then, her first time coming to Church, she and her husband were invited to meet with our Bishop after sacrament meeting and while speaking, a person walked by, saw Anna and greeted her in Chinese. This was a blessing and gift to her. She had been invisible for so long and here was someone who saw her. This was the one person who spoke her language, who had served a mission in Taiwan and who was integral in her learning about the gospel.

As she told this story, I could not help but think about our Savior when he walked on this earth. He healed the blind and the deaf, he helped those who were invisible by society. He did this not only because he cared about those people individually, but to teach us that he can and will heal us in these ways as well.

Often, I believe, we think of His miracles, His healing as something within the past, contained within the scriptures.

But to only think of His miracles within the past is overlook the truth that He lives today.

He is not dead, but resurrected. Because of this, those miracles within the scriptures can occur within our present day. Because He lives, He can heal us from our sickness, our weaknesses, our sorrows.

Anna’s story reminded me of this. I saw the miracle of the Savior’s Atonement work within her life. I saw the joy and happiness and she told of the blessing it has been to be seen, to be heard, to be loved.

I believe that the Savior can do this for each of us. Not only did I see it this weekend within the life of my friend, but I have seen it in my life. I have seen him give me light within darkness and joy through tribulation. His love works today because He lives.

He died and three days later the tomb was empty. His resurrection not only is a promise to me that death is not the end, but that His ministry continues. He is a part of our very lives healing, blessing, wrapping us within His loving arms.

I hope anyone who is reading this will take the time to think about how His love has been woven in their own. Find the miracles that He performs for you, for those around you because He lives.

My Church has created a video to help us think about the Savior this Easter week.

Where is He in your life?

Then I was pregnant again. A mixture of elation and anxiety. Would lightning strike twice? Would I fall into the unlucky lottery once again? The reality of stillbirth was no longer lost on me. This one arrived and with him an unexpected sensation. Of course happiness reigned supreme, how can it not with a newborn to hold? But all the joy that this newborn brought with him was coupled with a clarity of what we had really lost. Baby sighs, giggles, rolling over, fat bellies and chunky knees. What would have been like with him?

“Yes, three boys.” 

I can find a lot to complain about and I am REALLY good at complaining. I would get an A+ if grades were ever given for our murmuring capabilities. I notice the problems and study how they affect EVERYTHING in my life and pretty soon I am wallowing and encouraging everyone to join in with me.

I try not to, but sometimes it just gets the better of me.

They say happiness is choice that you have to make everyday and sometimes it is just really really really really really hard to choose it. You wake up tired, you are trying to be a mom that your child will remember with fondness, you are trying to keep up with all the good choices you know you should make as well as all the basic necessary choices of keeping a home livable and enough money in the bank.

Add on life’s trials and it is enough to make anyone want to crawl up into a ball, under the covers, fervently praying for angels to descend and take care of it all for you, just for one day at least.

It makes me overwhelmed just thinking about it. But these boys, oh man.

A smile, a chuckle, a hug from them blows all of that away. It is the strangest phenomenon to experience. When you feel like you might collapse with the weight of to do lists and spit up and tantrums, they flip it all around in an instant.

         



They impact EVERYTHING and when one thing goes wrong, it quickly starts hitting other areas of life. Lack of sleep becomes stress which becomes a short temper which become lack of patience and on and on and on. But when it is good, it blows everything out of the water with this sickly sweet, heart-swelling, bursting forth with joy goodness. When they smile and act sweetly you remember why you signed up for this. Why you made the choice to raise a family and why, despite you are poor in many temporal things, you are rich in love.

And with that love, you experience a glimpse of heaven.

 

                                             Max                                                 Daniel

                                      Max                                                        Daniel
Conclusions:

“Here give him this,” Kyle says as he hands me a small water bottle he had grabbed from the party.

The only problem was this wasn’t regular water, it was with a “splash of lemon.” Basically this water tasted like really weak, artificially sweetened lemonade.

“He isn’t going to like this…” I warned.

“He won’t even notice, in fact I bet he will like it,” Kyle countered back.

I reached my arm back to Max and Max willingly grabbed at the water, took one drink, and sincerely shrieked,

“What IS this?!?!?!”

It was hilarious.

That is what Max is these days. A mix of hilarity and curiosity that keeps me on the edge of my seat, waiting for the next thing he will say. Sometimes when he talks to me I get sidetracked thinking…but you were inside me once, just a tiny little thing, and then you depended on me for everything and here you are chatting it up about pajamas and candy and letters. 

“Mom, what letter starts with wall and firetruck and parking garage?” At bedtime we have switched from me singing a requested song to snuggles where we talk letters and a lot of other random things like friends and choices made that day and the way things work. I can see his brain trying to figure this world out and it is FASCINATING.

“Hey Mom? Can I watch Human?” He requests.

“Human?” I query back, not sure of what he is referring to.

“That show where the human leaves the north pole and throws snowballs….” He goes on trying to explain what he means. Logically, Elf should be called Human if you really think about it…

Max is my strong-willed boy. He makes big expressions and uses his whole body to talk and explain. He is a master at playing pretend, especially when it involves fighting bad dragons. Playing with Dad is the clear highlight of his day and he continues to be the best helper with Daniel. He has nothing but love to give his brother.

“MOM!!!!!!” He comes running into the bathroom as I am finishing getting ready for church.

“What is it love?” As he rushes in, tears are streaming down his face. He was watching the start of Prince of Egypt and Moses’ mother had just put him in a basket into the river and watched it float away…

“The mommy needs her baby!” He continues to cry, “She needs her baby back.”

What do you say to that? Especially after all we have been through, this small scene became so very real for him. He doesn’t understand much in regards to James but I think he understood what it would mean to lose Daniel and it terrified him. My heart softened in that moment, oftentimes it is hard to see beyond my own grief and emotions. But in that moment I was reminded of my beautiful firstborn, a boy who continually surprises me with his depth of character at the age of three.

He is never not fascinating.

(As before, all of these beautiful photos were taken by the VERY talented Hannah D Photography.)

I remember thinking vividly during Daniel’s pregnancy, “When he comes then I will be happy/free/healed.”

I side-eye myself for thinking that now…

I mean, I know where those thoughts came from. They were clinging tightly to the hope that sadness and grief is something one can end. That it is finite.  I thought to myself, if I have a baby in my arms to love and snuggle, then my focus can shift and I can stop thinking about what it would be like if James was here.

I feel bad for doing that to Daniel, for piling up so much expectations upon him as an infant. Thankfully, I realized that while Daniel brings an immense amount of joy, he needs to be his own person, he brings a joy and peace that does heal but it doesn’t end the longing for James.

Losing James brought about an awareness of trials in my life. Before I walked with ease noticing hardship around me but I held it at arms length. Sadness did not need to touch my happy life thank you very much. But when you go through an immense sadness, one that stays around forever, that you think about everyday, that gets easier with time but never ends, you start to analyze how other people handle it all. Do they talk about it still? Do they shove it in the closet and grieve when it bursts out around important dates and occasions? Do they wallow in that sadness, declaring that joy is NOT possible anymore? Are they quiet, sharing with close friends, opening up to only those who they know will not trample upon the tenderness that remains? Do they never talk at all?

It fascinates me really.

Where was I going with this? Oh yes, how people handle grief.

I suppose it is obvious that there isn’t one correct way, but there are certainly healthy and unhealthy habits associated with grief. The main one being coming to the conclusion that joy is impossible to achieve after loss. It certainly feels that way, pretty much 99% of the time, but I know with a surety that God did not intend for us to be miserable. He does not want sadness to consume our very being.

Sadness and grief and longing and anger are all a part of this mortal experience. We need to know these emotions, these deep and difficult feelings. We need to acknowledge them but not run away with them.

I see so many who are consumed by their grief, so much so that it keeps them from being happy for those around them. I get it, trust me. There was a period there where I didn’t feel like anyone else deserved a baby if I didn’t get mine. I don’t know exactly why we lost James, why I had to experience this sadness, but I do know that to let the sadness envelop me and take over would be to let darkness win. I now know that my longing for him is for always, and no one can fill his void except him. But in the meantime I can look up from that hole that my focus lands on and see the joy and happiness around me. I can see that joy and participate within it, I can smile and laugh and it doesn’t mean I am covering up the hole or ignoring it. I just know deep down in my heart that each of our loved ones so desperately want us to be happy despite it all. To find that balance of laughter and tears and live with them together.

Life lately has been a mishmash of pure bliss in having Daniel here safe and sound, but for the first week I kept calling him James. It kept slipping out and I would feel sad and horrible for it and then I would feel sad and aching for James. Eventually my psyche learned that Daniel is his own person and it hasn’t slipped out since that first week. Daniel seems to be understanding of it all. Babies are like that.

Trying to learn how to parent two children at once is its own struggle. Two precious souls vying for my attention. One depends on me wholly and the other can’t decide whether he wants to do it all himself or if he wants me to do it for him. Working out the kinks is sticky business and I am reminding myself to be realistic. Mistakes made are opportunities to learn.

When I nurse, I invite Max to snuggle as well. He takes that opportunity to give both Daniel and I hugs and kisses and usually brings over a book to read. We have checked out an enormous amount of books from the library each week to supplement our collection and Max is always excited to read something new. It has become our “thing,” to explore the world of books (I knew my English major would come in handy somehow).We go on walks if the weather permits and in the morning, during preschool and semi-consistent toddler naps, Daniel and I snuggle and I kiss his cheeks over and over.
The hardest thing lately has been adjusting to where we live. It is always hard adjusting to a new city, but this move has been the hardest by far. Living in the area that produces the nationals largest amount of potatoes (if you thought it was somewhere in Idaho…you were wrong) leaves much to be desired. The people are incredibly nice here, but I miss old friendships, the ease of getting together and the exhaustion from trying to make friends after so many moves this year has become apparent.

I keep waiting for things to ease up a little, for little problems to lessen or lighten or even disappear. I keep waiting for someone to knock on my door offering a paid dream vacation for my family to go anywhere. But at the end of the day, I lay in bed and when I think about it, I have so much to be grateful for, as cheesy as it sounds. Life lately is one of growing pains that come with so much being new; new job, new town, new baby, new friends. An explosion of change, just trying to embrace it.