An Open Letter to First-Time Mothers

Last night we got out a video that was all footage of the first year of our first child's life. I remembered as I sat and watched, how for that first year I could barely breathe. I was so worried that I was going to mess up so badly that she would eventually be a teen pregnancy statistic , or do all sorts of illegal drugs in High School, start ditching school in Junior High...you name it, the thought passed through my mind. That, on top of not sleeping and forcing that baby to breast feed, because it was "best for baby". (And in not considering WHAT actually was best for baby, practically starved her, because I never did produce enough milk, and she was having allergic reactions to what I ate.) I was a mess.

Oddly enough, in those videos you couldn't really tell. Thankfully.

What I could tell, however, was that she was happy, despite being hungry, and sleep deprived. She knew that she was loved, and that our entire world revolved around her. She was totally content.

I watched a movie the night before this home video experience in which the mother, played by Jamie Lee Curtis, is explaining to her grown daughter, that babies don't come with instructions, and it's just a big guessing game with each child, and sometimes you just do your best to set a good example, and then pray for the best result.

I wish I'd have believed that when she was a baby. I wish I'd have enjoyed every little moment. (Probably not possible, because she just didn't sleep, and there isn't much you can do about that. ) I wish I would have known that I could have asked for help, and that wasn't a sign of weakness, or that other more experienced mothers wouldn't think I was a "Bad Mother". I guess what I really wish I'd know is that eventually you just stop caring about what other people think of your ability to be a good parent. Because truth be told, they are just as worried about what their world looks like to everybody else, and that we are all just trying to get by without losing one child to the big bad monsters of the world, and we all go about it differently.

Fast forward 12 years. Number one child is a lovely, talented, well rounded young woman and I'm a different Mother. Thank goodness for two more children who came to help me understand that babies aren't as fragile as we think. If you don't breast feed they probably won't break curfew and get arrested in High School, and if they do wander off of the path you've set them on, it's probably not something you did wrong in the first years of their lives. It's a choice they are making for themselves. Really, really all we can do as Mothers, is teach them to do right, set a good example and pray for the best results.

I Prayed For This...

I've been paying a personal trainer for a couple of years. Three I think. I've changed trainers one time, so a year and a half with each trainer. Both very good. I do this because I'm not a creative gym go-er, and because I'm not about to do 5000 squats on my own. Occasionally I'll put together a work out for myself, but there is just something about having someone else do the coaching, and prodding. Often, my cute trainer (and I say cute like little brother cute) comes up with an exercise that KILLS me. During the course of the exercise, I will start chanting, "I paid for this, I paid for this, I paid for this..." Scott usually laughs maniacally, and says something like "only 1000 more to go, your doing great! Dig deep! Keep it up!"

I write about this because I'm seeing a parallel in my life. Spiritual Training through Motherhood. I have One Personal Trainer and three junior apprentice trainers. I get an amazing work out with my three junior apprentice trainers; every day. Except they don't do really well with the words of encouragement. Mostly it's all about the breaking me until I'm so worn out that I'm ready to cry. It's those moments that I have to remind myself "I prayed for this, I prayed for this, I prayed for this..." I'd compare it to spiritual prison camp, but maybe that's going a bit too far. Maybe spiritual boot camp...

Thankfully, I do have moments where my One Personal Trainer shouts down from on high with words of encouragement, or at least a small break from the madness before it starts up again. "You're doing a good job! Try the exercise this way it might work better, or move your feet to this spot, and you'll get a better result. Dig Deep, keep it up!" It's those moments when I feel like the training is worth it, and I remind myself that "I prayed for this, I prayed for this, I prayed for this."

Happy Mother's Day

In my efforts to be a good and kind, loving person I often fall short. Here is an example....I missed Mother's Day. I'm apologizing publicly to my Mother for failing to send a card, or to call. I don't have a good excuse except that I was recovering from running a half-marathon the day before and was caught up in my own activities. LAME EXCUSE...I know, but there you have it.

I've been thinking about what I could do for my Mother that would make up for my extreme lameness, and what I came up with is this...One blog entry a week for the year. She has been hinting that she misses me, and my blog.

So week one, and I'm sorry it's so short Ma, I'm trying to get dinner on, and get to Stake Conference, and Mr. Bergholm is out of town, so I'm flying solo...the timer is going off to get the pizza out of the oven, Anders is screaming because he just fell down, and Liam is probably off somewhere free peeing, or drawing on the wall...

I love you MOM. Happy Mother's Day.