from my drafts: [on being pregnant//4.28.14]

I found this draft of a post I had written while pregnant...so here I am reminiscing as I look at the result napping right beside me.

//

Before I was pregnant I used to tell my husband that Lucy was just up there waiting for us to bring her down. I said it playfully, but at the same time I honestly felt like she was. And seeing as how it only took us about a month to get pregnant (I don't say this lightly--we are incredibly and greatly blessed), I think I can safely say, she was definitely ready and waiting. Don't ask me how I knew we would have a girl first, I guess we just have a special bond, this little one and I.

I have had a hard time writing words down that could properly and possibly express my feelings on this whole adventure. There have been a million and one emotions. I'm kind of in awe at this moment in my life. I didn't know I could love someone so much that I haven't even officially met yet. I think I will try to back track a little and pinpoint a few pivotal experiences.

In November, I had a really bad pain in my stomach and I got really sick--while at school--so I took the rest of the day off and I just kept thinking I should take a pregnancy test. So I did, and it was negative. My mom was really worried about me so she told me to call the doctor, which made me feel silly because there wasn't really anything anyone could do. About a week later, I realized my period was late. My parents were going to the store and asked Jeff and I if we needed anything...I said casually, "Oh yeah, could you grab me a pregnancy test? That would be great." They seemed a little shocked, but agreed to it (My parents searching for and buying a pregnancy test is actually hilarious. Especially since they had to ask for help:) So Jeff and I were both up bright and early the next morning for work and we decided to just see. We didn't get our hopes up because everyone had warned us about how long it can take to get pregnant...but sure enough those two little lines showed up (faintly). We looked at each other like, wait, is this real?? Then of course, even though he had previously been against telling anyone, Jeff told me to go tell my mom. So I woke up my parents (at six in the morning) and said something to the effect of, "Umm...I'm pretty sure the pregnancy test was positive! As in, I'm pregnant!" Of course my mom had to see for herself and we freaked out in the best way possible.

We happened to be leaving the day we found out to California for Thanksgiving. We had all these plans to tell people in a special way and to wait until Christmas, but of course we just couldn't hold it in. Jeff blurted it out every chance he got (seriously, literally just called out, Well! Molly's having a baby! at his family party). On Thanksgiving we Facetimed all of my siblings and they were all so excited. My sister started to cry when I told her! I can't tell you how special that was for me.

During the first few weeks I actually knew I was pregnant, I had never been so tired in my life. I felt like a zombie walking around. It didn't help that the night we returned from California my grandma passed away and after that I ended up getting sick and stayed sick for about a month (not pregnancy sick...just cold sick...on top of being tired...and being a teacher...which made me lose my voice). It was also the month of December that the nausea hit. I can tell you it is quite fun to experience nausea. I started throwing up every morning and night. The first time I threw up Jeff was so excited because he felt like this meant I was really pregnant (I'm still not sure why he thought I wasn't:) Sometimes eating helped, sometimes it didn't. There were definitely foods that repulsed me (see: pickles, anything fried, and salad). Poor Jeffrey had to deal with me going to Hawaii (worst flight ever when dealing with nausea) and to make matters worse, I came down with the flu the day after we got there. Basically, the first couple months of being pregnant were long and hard. But I had the best husband to take care of me.

At the end of January, once we started telling people besides family I started feeling great! As soon as I was out of that first trimester, the nausea died down and my belly has been growing ever since. It didn't really start to pop until right around 20 weeks. And once I popped, I feel like I really popped. Baby girl just decided to show herself. Around the same time I started feeling these little bubbles pushing up against the inside of my stomach. I was kind of in love with the flutter. I felt like it was this special thing just between she and I. 

At 23 weeks, my mom and I were sitting in the temple on a Thursday afternoon (April 10th to be exact) my girl was just kicking away. My mom wanted to see if she could feel her, and she could! It was the sweetest moment ever. A couple days later she was going at it again and Jeff finally got to feel her as well and this time we could even see it! We were so thrilled I started to cry. It was just such a sweet experience.

There are little moments that made this whole thing a lot more real to me than the sight of my ever-growing tummy--I can't help but love when Lexi talks to my tummy or Beckham prays for my baby when blessing the food. Nothing made it more real for me though than when the ultra-sound tech told me I was having a girl and gave me that little white polka-dot bow.

I'm so in love with this time and with my baby girl. When I saw her all cuddled up on the ultrasound, I didn't think my heart could take so much happiness. She’s definitely mine, of that I am sure. She is a cuddler and I couldn't adore that more.

I’m literally hungry all the time and completely exhausted, but gosh, growing this tiny human is surreal.

23.

A prime number. The atomic number of vanadium. Michael Jordan's jersey number (oh, and Nathan Scott's).

So I can no longer sing Taylor Swift's 22 with quite as much zeal as before. But it's totally fine because Blink 182, Jimmy Eat World and Yellowcard wrote songs about being 23. I'm partial to odd numbers, so I actually prefer it.

This year really took me for a spin, but in the best of ways.

Since my last birthday...
I went on a couple different road trips to California.
I bought a plane ticket to New York City on a whim.
I went to NYC and explored its glory.
I got engaged for the second time (to the same person).
I got married in the Provo temple.
I spent my first Christmas away from home.
I went on road trips with friends to Lake Mead and Boulder, UT.
I went to San Francisco with my inlaws.
I took all of my teaching classes.
I got a job as a mentor at a therapeutic boarding school.
I was hired for my first teaching job in the fall.

And I spent my birthday with my mom and then my husband, mostly just eating good food.

The only real hiccup of my day was when I decided to finally use my floating lantern (that I've been dying to use since I fell in love with Tangled) and it basically was a disaster. It didn't work at all, but I guess it makes for a good story. Think: my sister-in-law almost catching everything on fire as she waved the lantern around to fill it with air and eventually my brother throwing cups of water and my husband stomping the whole thing out. All while the rest of us were screaming and laughing at the same time.

Life is pretty good my friends, it really is.

Read my 22 post here. 

random pictures from this year.

 

New Year's Day in Frisco// One of my favorite accidental pictures in SF with Jeffrey's family// A beautiful weekend in Boulder, UT with friends// One of the 14 days of Valentine's I did for my sweetheart// The sweetest V-day card from him// Valentine's night at Little America// Pizza Heart partywith some lovely people// Date nights with the fam & twinner glasses// Just because it's the sweetest picture ever

Trying to post more pictures. Mostly from my phone (sorry for the low quality). 

Follow me on instagram for more photograph fun: @mollyjaney 

(*Warning...my insta is mostly of my niece and nephew...but don't worry, they're the cutest ever)

I'll be 21 soon.

I, personally, feel like that is kind of a big deal. Apparently, it means I'm sort of growing up. Or getting old (in a I'm still really young sort of way).

And today, all I could think of was this:




My mom told me I am regressing.
The dictionary defines that as, return to a former or less developed state

She also told me I will make a good mom because I still love the things that kids do. 
I think I'll stick with the good mom thing (and forget about the regressing part)

Really though, who doesn't like Mister Rogers??

grandpa.

six years ago today

I found out I had appendicitis.
(reluctantly...I was in a great deal of pain, but my mom didn't want me to go to the doctor if it wasn't a big deal...she was willing if I was sure it was serious...which of course I wasn't  because I am never sure.)

I went to Dr. Mitch.
He poked me (particularly right on top of the parts that hurt)
(which made them hurt worse)
He hit the bottom of my foot (which again forced pain into the parts that already hurt)
He said things.
Things I don't really remember, except
I am 99.9% sure you have appendicitis. 
Go to the emergency room. Right away. 
If I'm right, you'll need to have it removed.


My mom drove me (in her red bug) to the ER.
We didn't say much...other than,
"Good thing we came to the doctor?"

Indeed.

I remember the lady asking me to number my pain.
Which was far too much pressure for my anxiety-filled mind.
What if I say the wrong number? What if they don't believe me?


When I had a moment to think,
I cried.
And my mom let me cry.


They ran more tests on me.
He was .1% unsure (which meant more tests)
They were uncomfortable (the kind that make me cringe)

I waited.
My brother and dad came before the surgery
(the surgery they knew for sure I now needed)
And they placed their hands on my head.

I cried then too.

My mom was by my side the whole time.
As they poked me with needles and questioned me and told me things.
She walked me down the same hallway that she had taken my grandpa 8 years before (almost to the day)
The same hallway that took him,
but didn't bring him back.

When I awoke they were there.
My mom. And my dad.
With smiles.

It may not seem like anything of importance to anyone else.
Routine surgery.
I know there are far worse things.
But I was 14.
And I was scared.

When I look back on it.

Sometimes I still cry. 

Not because it was a huge deal, 

Not because it was really that significant,

but because it is (almost) tangible evidence of the family that has changed my life.  

The family that makes me eternally grateful,

That my mom will never leave my side (even if she isn't phsyically with me)

That both my dad and my brother can bless me (in more ways than one)

That I get to be related to some of the most Christ-like people I know.

The reason behind this ridiculously long post (which I apologize for)...is the realization (a long time coming) that, I am one blessed girl. And I have the family to prove it.

miracles.

A few months ago I started reading Peace Like a River and on the third page of the book I read a few paragraphs that just stuck with me from the moment I saw them. I haven't been able to get the words out of my mind. I fell in love with them a little bit. (Sadly, I haven't had time to read more than a few chapter out of this book...) I have been needing to share it. So, please read.

"Let me say something about that word: miracle. For too long it's been used to characterize things or events that, though pleasant, are entirely normal. Peeping chicks at Easter time, spring generally, a clear sunrise after an overcast week--a miracle, people say, as if they've been educated from greeting cards. I'm sorry, but nope. Such things are worth our notice every day of the week, but to call them miracles evaporates the strength of the word.

Real miracles bother people, like strange sudden pains unknown in medical literature. It's true: They rebut every rule all we good citizens take comfort in. Lazarus obeying orders and climbing up out of the grave--now there's a miracle, and you can bet it upset a lot of folks who were standing around at the time. When a person dies, the earth is generally unwilling to cough him back up. A miracle contradicts the will of earth.

...People fear miracles because they fear being changed--though ignoring them will change you also...No miracle happens without a witness. Someone to declare, Here's what I saw. Here's how it went. Make of it what you will."

I like that this quote mentions Lazarus. His story happens to be my favorite miracle in the New Testament. I love Christ's compassion. The love he has for Mary and Martha. For Lazarus. He cares deeply for the situation and you can tell how much it hurts seeing his friends have to go through such pain. It's beautiful.

I have always been fascinated by miracles. The beauty of them. The sacredness of them. The way they are rare and humbling and divine. I think part of this may have to do with the struggle of my birth. I always loved it when my mom told the story when I was younger. I wasn't breathing when I came out. Extremely sick, saved by a man who just happened to be at the hospital at two in the morning and who just happened to see the emergency call for help (whatever the special light/code is at the hospital). He was the specific doctor I needed. He had the kind of skills that would rescue me.
In the story my mom tells, she never forgets the prayers that were said.

And how the nurses dubbed me Miracle Molly. Because, my life truly was a miracle.

Had the circumstances been slightly different in one way or another, I would not have made it.

I'm lucky. No. I'm blessed. To have a mom who tells me stories like this. Who points out the important parts of life. And who sees Heavenly Father in everything.

I adore the fact that the quote above talks about miracles in such a different way.

Fear of change. 


Make of it what you will. 

dad.

A long time ago, I remember waking up in the middle of the night and becoming amazingly upset. I had had some nightmare that caused me to really think about life and how, without any say on my part, it could just end at any time. Death and loss gave me a feeling of discomfort (as it does most people, I believe). I hated that feeling...the thought of everything ending. Life over. Possibly being alone forever.

I had always been taught at church that our families are forever, life doesn't end with death. One of the great things about this being that we will never be alone. 

But I have an imagination...and I (without control) think every possible situation through to the core...so I could not help but think about what it might be like if forever consisted of nothing. Darkness. No one but yourself. Completely alone.

These thoughts scared me to the point of breathlessness.

As the thoughts grew in my mind I began to cry and tumble into a worried mess.
(My preteen self was completely unable to handle this type of self-inflicted stress)

And somehow, through all of my anxiety, my dad ended up right next to me. He sat me up in my bed, automatically trying to fix the pain I had caused myself.

His comfort was immediate.

He reassured me with something similar to this,
no matter what happens in life (or outside of it), I will always have prayer.
And because of that reason, that truth,
I will never be alone.

(side note* the reason for the emphasis on being alone...my biggest fear has always been a fear of being alone in life)

Of course, I can't remember his exact words, or all of the wisdom that he shared with me.
But I remember the feeling I got from my father that night.
I knew that no matter what happened in my life that he would love me.
That he knew that I was a daughter of God and regardless of
the stresses, the worries, or the hardships of life...
he would do everything in his power to make sure I am alright.
To make sure that I know how much I am loved
To make sure that I know how deeply he cares for me.
To make sure that I know how life is hard, but it's always, completely worth it.
And the knowledge I gained, knowing my dad would be a constant in my life, changed my world forever.

I'm sure he does not remember that specific night. And I'm also sure there has been many moments like it since then. He's always been that way with me...a shoulder to cry on, someone to reassure me that everything will be okay, a person to trust with all that I have.

And for that I am so grateful.

Thanks daddy, for everything that you are. For being my go-to for all the times I need someone. Thanks for being patient with me. For never letting me settle.

And thanks for reading my blog :)
You are truly one of the best parts of my life.
I'm glad you were born. HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

he knows me.

The past few weeks (due to a rs lesson...or a lot of thinking...or a love for life)

I have been in love with the idea that my Heavenly Father knows me.

He knows me so well.

He sends me people.

The best kind of people.

Sometimes I feel incredibly lucky to have such people in my life.

Then I realize...I'm not lucky.

I'm blessed.

I'm blessed, and He really does know me.

He watches out for me.

He knows I couldn't make it with out certain kinds of people.

So He sends them.

He sends them to me:

To stretch me.

To show me things.

To teach me how to love.

To teach me how to be loved.

To allow me happiness and fun.

To get me through the awful times.

I love these people. All of them.

Everyone seems to come in at the perfect time. Fitting in just right. Like another piece to my life.

I love how everything works out.

I love that Hayley and I used to meet in the double doors during recess to discuss our need for new friends. And how we used to be a packaged deal. And that regardless of boys, school, and time, we're still the best of friends.

I love that I met Rachel when I hated BYU and had no friends. And of course we met in the lunch line. I'm also happy she didn't get creeped out when we exchanged numbers to go on a road trip to St. George (thank you Vaughan and Caleb for being the connection to make this possible).

I love that I was heart broken when Whitney had to be the one leaving my new job and how it was the best thing ever when she came back. I'm pretty sure we were made for each other (as friends of course). And that she moved into Rachel's apartment.

I love that McKenzie just so happened to be Rachel's roomie and best friend. And as everyone is getting murrayed, we're going away. (thank you Nate for bringing us together {closer than before}}.

sweetheart.

today is my grandpa's birthday.

he died when I was six.

I feel lucky I had six years to know someone like him.

I feel lucky I still remember bits and pieces of who he was.

if it were possible, I would tell everyone I could about how wonderful in every way he was.

but I'm not sure it is.

he was a surgeon.

he loved motorcycles

diet pepsi

and his grandchildren.

grandpa,

thanks for showing me how to love people. for letting me be your nurse when you were on call. for explaining to me what the benches at cemeteries are for. for covering my eyes with your giant hand when you took us for flu shots. for rubbing off on my brother jake. for raising my mom. for letting me be your sweetheart. for the memories I can still see in my mind. and for never leaving my heart.

james dean.

died 54 years ago today.

Thanks for being in this movie. {one of my favorites}

And thank you for being so unbelievably good looking.

I know basically everything about you. It is quite tragic that I never got to see your films on the big screen. {seeing as how you died 35 years before I was born, even 4 years before my dad was born}

But at least I have you in my room every night and a t-shirt with your face on it.

February 8, 1931 - September 30, 1955

yup.

I'm gonna miss him.