Pregnancy Journey

So I'm finally probably going to have a baby.

From the interjection of "probably," it's likely pretty apparent that I'm still a bit in denial. But you guys have got to understand--for years, I've so successfully compartmentalized the act of being pregnant from its normal outcome (a child), that it's hard to bring the two back together.
Let me explain.

First Miscarriage

The first time Ben and I decided that we should expand our family was early in 2014. Things seemed to be going just peachy (and by peachy I mean I was super sick and wanted to die inside). Anyway, towards the end of my first trimester I go to my first ultrasound. At first I'm just told that the doctor is having a hard time seeing the baby clearly due to my scar tissue. Okay, fair enough. So they decide to do a different type of ultrasound. The technician takes me into a separate room where she proclaims I'm measuring 6 weeks. Confused, I tell her I'm much further along than that. At that point, she leaves the room to get my doctor, who tells me that I've had a miscarriage. You see, I had what they refer to as a "missed miscarriage." There is no heartbeat and the fetus is no longer viable, but your body just hasn't realized it yet. I chose to have a D&C a week later. (Side rant: if you are Mormon, puhhhhhlease do not refer to Doctrine and Covenants as "D&C"; the rest of the world associates this abbreviation with this procedure. Thank you.)

To say the least, Ben and I were devastated. I was so traumatized by both the emotional heartache and the physical duress I went through during the pregnancy that I refused to even think about trying again for two years.

Ectopic Pregnancy

Last summer, Ben and I decided that we were emboldened enough to try again. During this time, about a week and a half after a "period," I started lightly bleeding. For about a week. Weird, right? But I ignored it because I was too busy with work. But then I started cramping and getting a sharp pain on my right side. So I call the nurse at my OBGYN and she tells me to go to the ER. After some tests, the doctor walks through the door and asks, "So you didn't know you were pregnant?!?" 

I was shocked. So apparently, guys, I'm that weird person who gets a period even though they're pregnant. Go me. But at that point they tell me I've already miscarried because they didn't see anything in the ultrasound. But then I see my doctor on Monday, and I'm told that my HCG levels are too high for me to have already have miscarried. And they sprinkle some other hopeful words like, "maybe it's too early to see anything." Spoiler alert: it was ectopic. The original confusion was thanks to that silly period. My hypothesis is that my HCG levels were rising so slowly (as they do with an ectopic) that my body just short circuited. Because the opposing theory--that I was somehow 4 weeks pregnant a week after what would have been me ovulating--just doesn't cut it.

So after more pain that wouldn't go away, they decided it was ectopic and they gave me a drug called methotrexate to make me miscarry. Fun fact: this is a drug used in cancer treatment, because its essential function is to kill rapidly dividing cells. Like cancer. Or in my case, a fetus. 

Surgery

There was an unintended consequence of my ectopic pregnancy (and I'm not just referring to a now blocked tube). Nope, when they were doing one of many ultrasounds, they were a bit mystified as to why I had fluid in one half of my uterus, and nothing in the other. So, we do a couple of tests and find out I was born with yet another birth defect (go me). It's called a septate uterus, and basically it means that I was born with an unnecessary wall in my uterus. Consequence? Super high chance of miscarriage, of course! My RE (Reproductive Endocrinologist) told me that based on my septum, my chances of miscarriage were in the 90% range. Anyway, he does the surgery and I'm approved to start trying to have a family again.

Next Tries

As you can imagine, with a blocked tube it took a bit longer to get pregnant. Not only that, but I'd dealt with so much disappointment that, after each failure, Ben and I would reassess to see if we were going to keep trying. After my next miscarriage, I think Ben was surprised that I was willing to try again.

Pregnant Again

Now we are caught up to my current pregnancy. Aaaand plat twist: it's been awful. It's a bit ironic, actually. Ben and I have worked so hard to get pregnant. Many prayers have been said and tears have been shed to get this point. Plus, I thought that after all the work we'd put into it that I'd get this cosmic break from awful morning sickness. But no. I'm actually kind of ashamed to admit that during my worst weeks of sickness, I sank into a kind of a despair because I was so miserable all the time. It was like having mono and the flu all wrapped into one devious mess. Currently, I'm 13 weeks and still sick. Now, not as bad as before, but I'm still throwing up 1-2 times a day and feel sick all day long. (Yes, I'm on medication, yes I eat small amounts throughout the day, no-preggie pops, peppermint, and ginger don't work for me).

But I'm finally to the point that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, where I can see the bright side of things (I'm talking to you, 13 pounds lost). Not just that, but at my last ultrasound last week, I could see the baby kicking around and moving. So it's getting more real And I'm not as worried that all of this will have been for naught. 

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A Feminist's Perspective on a Patriarchal Church

Did my title hit all the hot buttons? Okay, good!

Now, to clarify, I think I would more ascribe to third wave feminism. Not the bra-burning associated with second wave feminism. Rather, I believe that people shouldn't let socially constructed stereotypes keep them from creating their own unique path. Want to become a doctor? Go for it. Want to be a stay-at-home mom? Awesome. To quote some random article I found, "The heart of the movement is respect for our fellow woman, which includes acknowledging her beliefs, choices, and methods of self-expression and identification (as long as it isn’t harmful to her or others)."

Now, there are many aspects of the LDS church that I could tackle, but the main thing I want to address are the topics of  1) equality and 2) the priesthood (deemed in the church the power and authority to act in God's name) and how I can call myself a feminist and not really give a poop that women don't have it.


EQUALITY STARTING WITH ADAM & EVE

I feel like so many years of men-are-better-than-women mentality can be traced back to the story of Adam & Eve. From one of the first stories in the bible, the major consensus seems to be that we see how dumb and easily swayed Eve is. Hence men-are-better-than-women. From LDS teachings, we see things a tad differently. We believe that God gave them a couple commandments: 1) don't eat of the fruit and 2) multiply and replenish the earth. The two don't seem super contradictory until you look at some LDS scripture: 

And [Adam and Eve] would have had no children; wherefore they would have remained in a state of innocence, having no joy, for they knew no misery; doing no good, for they knew no sin.
But behold, all things have been done in the wisdom of him who knoweth all things.
Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.
And the Messiah cometh in the fulness of time, that he may redeem the children of men from the fall" (2 Nephi 2:22–26; see also 2 Nephi 2:19–21, 27).

So basically, Eve had to make a pretty big decision. Oh and that beguiled by the serpent thing? Take a look on this bit from an article below (if you want to read the whole article, you can go here.)

We read in the biblical text that Satan beguiled Eve. Knowing the negative modern connotations of the word used to explain Satan’s hold over Eve, I wondered how this magnificent woman could have been beguiled.
Sensing this was another word whose true meaning might have been lost after so many centuries of translation, I spoke with Dr. Nehama Aschkenasy. She explained that the Hebrew word that has come to be translated as “beguiled” is a rare verb form of unusual depth and richness. Because it is a form no longer in use, it is almost impossible to translate. “It is safe to say that it indicates an intense multilevel experience which evokes great emotional, psychological, and/or spiritual trauma.”
Aschkenasy wrote of this in her book Eve’s Journey. The use of this word in the biblical narrative “makes it clear that Eve was motivated by a complex set of inner drives, anchored not only in her physical but also in her intellectual nature.” She further indicated her belief that this intense, multilevel experience caused Eve to step back, reevaluate, reassess, and ponder the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

So instead of being tricked, Eve had a pretty emotionally traumatic experience when trying to figure out what to do.


HELPMEET DOES NOT EQUAL SERVANT

We read that "God is no respecter of persons" (ACTS 10:34).  Meaning, He doesn't show favoritism to one person over another--including men over women. Again, in LDS theology, Adam and Eve are seen as equal partners: companions who, without the other, could not fully grow and evolve. To quote John A. Widstoe,“The place of woman in the Church is to walk beside the man, not in front of him nor behind him. In the Church there is full equality between man and woman. The gospel, which is the only concern of the Church, was devised by the Lord for men and women alike” (see full article here).


BUT WHAT ABOUT THE PRIESTHOOD ISSUE YOU'VE BEEN AVOIDING?

I would use the words "building up to" instead of "avoiding." A foundation, if you will. Anyway, another cornerstone of LDS theology is this: the main and absolutely ultimate goal of God is "to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man." (See context here.) A step in the whole process of God's goal, according to LDS doctrine, is for everyone first to come to earth and try to become like Him. In case you're not following along, a woman sacrificing her body through Motherhood, in the eyes of Mormons, is absolutely imperative for God's plan to work. It's kind of like God saying, "Hey, this is super important and special for me, and I'm putting my trust you to do it right." So while men and women are seen as equal (and I know some people will take issue with this next part), Mormons just see these different roles (priesthood and motherhood) as men and women taking stewardship over 2 different parts of God's plan. And I think the real tragedy is when women devalue their quintessential part.

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"Tell All the Truth but Tell It Slant"

6:00 am: Even after doing 4 1/2 hours of reading yesterday, my homework still wasn't finished. #EnglishMajorProbs. Anyway, I read all that I could until I needed to start getting ready.
8:20 am: Although I told Ben he could take leftovers and I would make a sandwich, let's be real. I wasn't going to make a sandwich. So my lunch was composed of a few slices of ham, one piece of cheese, tortilla chips, 3 red vines, an apple, a banana, and a ding dong.
8:30 am: I can't find my coat. I pray that today is warmer as I grab my computer, "lunch," and books that, together, are about as thick as the length of my foot. PS, just so everyone knows, it was already like 32 degrees outside by 9. PSS, I still have no idea where my coat is.
8:35 am: I call my mom. The conversation was ok until she tells me how my sisters is mad at her because she is apparently not giving her daughter enough attention. Except, that's not it. I'd already talked to my sister, and she's mad for the same reason we all are: she places the importance of my nephew above everyone and anything else. My wedding? Oh, she didn't come because she "had" to babysit him. Christmas? She wouldn't come out because she had "responsibilities." AKA my nephew. So anyway, my sister was peeved because it's a little weird when your mother makes a Facebook status about missing one particular nephew. Just him. NO one else. Are you following me? So anyway, I tell her this and also mention how not only did she not come out to Ben's graduation, but she's already told me she won't come to mine. Except, she tells me that those were because of her weight. Sidenote: she's paranoid that she's too overweight to fly. Anyway, I'm frustrated by this point and tell her of a person we both know who's heavier than her and flies all the time. Her response: she starts sobbing and telling me I can't do this to her and then hangs up.
9:00 am: I arrive at my new internship and try to deal with the emotional chaos and keep myself together.
9:03 am: (Text from Mom): Don't ever call me again. You're bad for me.
9:03 am: (Text from Mom): I don't ever want to see you again.
9:03 am: (Text from Mom): Don't come here
9:04 am: (Text from Mom): I don't need what you do to me.
I was a little confused by her severe response to my statement (not the being disowned thing, because this is the third time in the last year and a half that she's said that to me.)
11:30 am: Social media meeting! With all the outpouring of new information, it's fun and slightly overwhelming. I wonder how I'll be able to complete all my responsibilities when I'm only interning 10 hours a week.
12:50 pm: I call Ben to sort through the mom thing. He points out that my mom tells me she never wants to see me again approximately ever 6 months.
1:15 pm: I get to swallow my pride and pick up my "accessibility" papers. Accessibility=disability. Pretty much with adjusting to new medication and having already 2 surgeries in the last 2 months (the last one being last Friday), I tend to miss class. These papers let my teachers know that my body is legit screwed up and I'm not just ditching for kicks and giggles.
1:20 pm: Remember those snacks I packed for lunch? Time to start devouring them.
1:35 pm: The Senior course in which we get to study the poems of Emily Dickinson. She's the one who wrote, "Tell all the truth but tell it slant." The hard part about her is that her truths are so slant there are no subjects. No but really. Most of her poems are written in such a way that because there is no subject, there are layers of meaning to be understood. Like a bajillion layers. You'll be reading along and you're like oh there's a maiden, and there's marriage, and there's death and God, too? Ok.
3:00 pm: My rhetoric class. The takeaway: medieval religious authorities like Thomas Aquinas (and everyone else, too) believed women to be inferior to men. They were not their "help meet" but their "helper." Thus, if a man wanted help, he should go ask a man, unless it's in the procreation department. Peachy.
4:15 pm: Call my dad trying to understand why my mom reacted so harshly. The only thing that I can think of is that she maybe needs to adjust her medication. After a very hesitant pause, he agrees and tells me he got an emergency call at work from a friend of my mom's to whom she'd given a suicide message to. She hasn't done that in years, which is why my dad feels something is off. But of course, she doesn't trust any of us to believe that we're telling the truth.
4:30 pm: Have to hang up because I'm now at work. Again, I have to readjust my thought processes from what I just heard to getting caught up at work.
6:00 pm: Tired, I leave work for home. As I walk in the kitchen I see a cute note my husband left for me.
6:20 pm: Eat frozen pizza! Guys, I usually eat way better than today. I promise.
8:55 pm: Finish writing blog.

                 

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Fragmented Essay

I don’t remember my first hospital visit. Some of my earliest memories stem from when I was four—back then I frequented the hospital so much that whenever I was admitted, the nurses greeted me like a favorite niece. More than that, I felt like a momentary celebrity as I walked through the double doors to my floor and was cheerfully greeted by everyone. Because I was young, I never thought to wonder why everyone knew me when I couldn’t remember them. It’s just the way it was. But alas, my flash of fame would vanish as I would enter my room. Except, if you take away the IV’s and the throw-up bowls, needles, tubes, and surgeries, it wasn’t so bad. They tried to make it kid friendly. I even had themed sheets—like 101 Dalmatians. My most common problem was boredom. As an inpatient, all you have to look forward to are your 3 meals.

***

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How to Become an English Major

First, you must graduate high school thinking you're amazing at everything. There is nothing that you cannot do. Especially, however, you are great at math and English. When you make the choice between the two, however, choose math. Math is more respected and will make you feel more reputable. After all, you did get an A in Calculus your senior year.

Then you must enter college, and fail miserably in math. This makes no sense--you're in a Calculus class, after all. After barely passing, you decide that your procrastination and laziness got in the way. Thus, you take the same math class again the next semester. Half-way through the class you realize you hate Calculus with a passion and no longer want to major in math. Again, you barely pass Calculus.

You now decide that you want to teach and major in "family and consumer science education." You reason that you like cooking, shopping for clothes, and the idea of sewing. You enroll in 2 major related classes. You drop sewing within the first week. You hate sewing. In your Home and Family class, you are grateful there is no gun to shoot yourself as you learn about the spiritual aspect of the mundane things in life--changing diapers, for instance. You begin jetting for the door on completion of your quizzes until your teacher threatens to not give you credit unless you stay for the whole period (so you may learn about Jesus and diapers).

Take random GE's until you decide to serve a mission.

Come back from an 18 month mission--still clueless--and take an advertising class with your friend because his dad teaches it. It's fun, he tells you--easy, too. This class is not easy. You probably should have bought the text book. But by golly, your project turned out pretty nifty, so now you're going to major in advertising! Plus, you're running out of GE's.

Next, be clueless that you need to be declared a pre-communications major to get into the required pre-requisites for this major. You figure this out months later and have to waitlist all your classes and cross your fingers that you get in.

You get into all but one. At the end of the semester you realize you're screwed because you now will have to wait a year and a half in the hopes that you get into the program. Silently curse your stupidity and figure out what the heck your daddy's "late bloomer" is going to do with herself. Not wanting to waste your time and the government's money, you decide to switch majors--yet again.

Decide to major in English--something. Start taking the classes. Realize that you finally feel at home. Write a "How To" paper for your writing class.

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My First [MARRIED] Christmas

Let's start with Christmas Eve, shall we? Much to my husband's distress, we were waiting around for a package for his sister to arrive (side note--it was supposed to arrive the day before, but apparently UPS had some issues this year. If you want to read all about it, click here.) So, while my husband was struggling to wait, I got to spend time with my best friend and her family. I regret nothing.

Anywho, the infamous package finally arrives, and we jet off to his parents house. And when I say jet, I mean drive, because they now only live about an hour and 15 mins away from us. Speaking of his family, I'm currently eating some of his mom's chocolate chip banana bread. But I digress. Anyway, we get there in time for their traditional ravioli dinner. I, of course, added to the dinner by bringing my mountain dew that I was determined to buy that morning. Because let's be real. Me + Caffeine=best friends. So when I don't drink caffeine, I think he gets a bit jealous and becomes a BIG headache for me.

Oh, and did I mention my husband's sister got their parents a ping pong table?!?!? I love me some ping pong. The hilarious part is that I'm about 100% certain that their mom could whoop my trash.

Later on Christmas Eve we even played chimes! [Imagine wind chimes. Except each chime is a note. And instead of having sheet music that show notes, we have numbers that each match a chime.] With a nail, you tap the chime when your number/note comes up. And voila! Christmas Music!

Our stockings for Christmas were kind of cool because we each put a little something into everyone's. So when I woke up on Christmas morning, I about died laughing...my sister-in-law had gotten me FOUR cases of pop for "my stocking." BEST. STOCKING. STUFFER. EVER.

I need to back up really quickly. On Christmas Eve, my previously-mentioned-friend had given me a Christmas card with the instruction to not open it until Christmas Day. Except she entrusted it to my husband because she didn't believe I would wait to open it. Smh. Anyway, Christmas Day rolls around, I open the card, and finally understand her paranoia! Christmas morning is when she and her husband had decided to tell everyone that she was pregnant!!

Anyway, later yesterday evening we finally drove home around 8:00 pm. Unpacking the car was super cold. And here I am complaining about having to unpacking presents...shame on me. But once we put everything away, we played a few hands of Canasta! If you don't know what Canasta is...here's the lowdown. Really cool card game. I'd rank it #2 on my list, right under Euchre. Oh crap. I just found out you can play it online. MAN!

Anyway, there you have it folks. My first Christmas as a married person.

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My first day of class....errr....second day of class

It started off pretty typical. You know, the alarm is set to give you a respectable amount of time to get ready in the morning. But come morning time, your brain makes a valid point: you don't NEED that much time. You're a super fast morning-get-ready-er. So you hit that snooze button. Then, in effect, you're running around the house like a crazy woman because--as impossible as it would seem--you didn't give yourself enough time to get ready. Oops.

After packing my lunch and scarfing my cocoa puffs, I head out the door.

World, meet the girl who didn't shower this morning; armed with a coat of mascara and a smearing of eyeliner. But no worries, I did brush my teeth.

Enter first class. There are two really, really excited professors. No, no. That was not a typo--I have two professors, because I decided it would be a FANTASTIC idea to take a six-credit class. Because who doesn't love cramming their brain full of "Transatlantic Literary History" for two hours straight three times a week? Consistent with English major culture, we're also supposed to be excited about the fact that one of our instructors resembles Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Next comes my Marriage and Family class. Here at BYU, they require a certain amount of religion courses for you to graduate. What better time to take a religion course on marriage than, drum roll please, right after you just got married?!? The class is great and surprisingly easy. Why am I surprised it's easy? Well, BYU professors teaching religion have this weird thing where they love to take 2-credit hour classes and make them a pain in your derriere. These classes are supposed to make you happy; instead, they typically run out the butterflies and rainbows and replace them with busy work and memorization. But this guy--he was good. I like him.

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