A Writing Desk of my Own

Last week we moved. Across town seems like it might as well be a different state-the 30 minutes from where we were a lifetime. I feel all the emotions changes like this bring. Sadness to leave the place we first brought Owen home, the place where he first spoke "mama" and "dada", where he was taught to walk, where he giggled and played and slept in our arms. The city and streets I grew up on. However, more than that I feel the joy and purpose that is unique only to a fresh start. A new place to live, a new position of the furniture, a new neighborhood, a new grocery store, a new outlook, a new start.

In a way this move feels a little like coming home. My father grew up in a neighborhood five minutes from here, and I spent each Sunday night of my childhood running through the fruit trees in the yard of that old house. The home my parents first brought me home to is just a few streets over-the church we now attend is the same building I was blessed in as a baby. I am literally right back where I started.

I love this old house already. It's charming bay windows and plethora of light make my heart sing. The view of the mountains as I lay in bed and the fireplace mantel dressed with fresh peonies fill me with a sense of home. One of my favorite parts of the house is a piece of furniture that we finally have room for-my great grandmothers writing desk. A beautiful old wood fold down desk that she left for me. I've always loved it, but it's meaning has increased with each passing year. I sit here now and glory in having a dedicated space for myself-a writing desk of my very own-and I wonder if she knew even back then how I'd love to write.

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We talk a lot about turning our hearts to our fathers, an activity that has come alive for me since moving here. As I sit rocking Owen just minutes away from where my grandmother raised my father I can't help but wonder if she did the same. As write this at the gorgeous desk that was my great-grandmothers I wonder about all the letters she wrote here, the treasures she hid in it's many drawers. As I walk the halls at church, a baby in my arms, I think about my mother doing the same. I think of all that have come before that have made me who I am, and all that come next. I think of my little link in this never ending chain and wonder how I can make it strong, sure to connect the before and the after. I don't have a simple answer to this-but I have a feeling a good part of it might just take place in this exact spot, here at my writing desk.

Valentines Flowers

Valentines day has always been one of my favorite holidays. I think it started back when I was a little girl. I would anticipate Valentines day for one main reason, getting flowers from my Dad. Each year my dad gave me and my sisters each a beautiful flower arrangement. I always felt so special to get my own Valentines flowers-just like a grown up! I don't think my dad has ever missed a year of Valentines flowers. Usually he hand delivered them to us, but I'll never forget my first Valentines day after getting married-when he drove all the way down to Provo and left them on my doorstep,without even ringing the doorbell, because he didn't want to interrupt the fun Saturday Nate and I had planned. A simple text telling me to look on my porch revealed that my Dad would still be giving me flowers-even though I had a husband to give me some too.

Last year my flowers from my dad were different than before. Valentines came just 8 days after my sweet Owen was born. I was living in that beautiful sleep-deprived yet beyond happy newborn baby bubble complete with c-section incision pain and great fatigue. He brought me flowers, all the exact same color-except one-representing my sweet baby. I'd officially graduated to the "Mama" mothers day flowers-a rose of a different color representing my baby. I don't remember very many details of last February, thanks to the above mentioned bubble-but I remember these flowers.

As I got older it wasn't just the flowers that I appreciated-it was all that they meant. My sweet father, all those years ago, wanted to do something sweet for his daughters, to make them feel loved. And I knew that each year even if I didn't get any 'special' valentines, or very many 'candy-grams' or if I didn't get asked on any dates or have any reason at all to suppose that would ever change I had someone who loved me. I'd look at those beautiful flowers and think that I was so incredibly lucky to have a dad who loved me so much.

Now, it needs to be stated that Nate is an incredibly wonderful husband and that he has also given me flowers every Valentines day, and so many other 'just because' days. He loves me so much, and treats me better than I ever imagined. I am so blessed to get two Valentines flower arrangements each year-one from the man I love the most, my best friend and husband-and the other from the first man I ever loved, the one who made me love Valentines Day.

Where Have I Been?

I've thought about blogging so many times over the last year. Originally I took a break to decide how much of Owen I wanted to share here-how much felt safe and fair to him. I never really made a decision about that, but as time passed I sat down and started a few posts-a birth story, and various "catch up" posts.

So what's different this time? (Assuming I actually push 'Publish' this time around)

I'm writing this for me.

I'm not trying to "catch up" on anything. I don't feel like I need to apologize for missing out on anything, or stress to post a million pictures of Owen's "Go Dog Go" first birthday party! Instead I'm simply blogging now because I miss writing, and for some reason I write best when I'm pushing it out there for the world to see. (Or for the one person that reads my blog these days).

So I'm back. I'm not sure what that means-how often I'll be writing or what I'll be sharing, but my fingers are dancing on the keyboard again and stroke by stroke it feels more like home.

My Due Date

My due date was a little bit sad. Of course, like every expectant mother I had secretly hoped I would be celebrating that day with my little babe in my arms. Instead I found that I had made no noticeable progress from the week before. Luckily our baby boy's heartbeat was strong, and he seemed to be doing great. I spent the day walking up and down stairs at the only mall my mom and I hadn't been walking at yet.

(Mall walking is the only walking-to-induce-labor option when you're due in the middle of icy winter)

I thought a lot that day about divine timing, and how all the blessings in my life have come at times that were perfect, even though I may have liked many of them sooner. Knowing that Heavenly Father has perfect knowledge and timing, I trusted that he would have my baby boy come exactly when it would be best.

Before falling asleep that night I wrote the following as part of a little letter to my boy:

"So tonight and every night, when I head to bed, it will be with a prayer of trust and a hope that tomorrow will bring you. One of these days very soon that hope will be fulfilled."

Little did I know that just seven hours later I'd wake up in labor...

These photos are some of the last taken of my bump-taken the day before my due date. I owe so much to my mama. She was such a great friend and always happy to keep me busy enough to not get discouraged that baby boy hadn't come yet. During the weeks before he came we went shopping, mall walking, to lunch, a movie and spent time hanging out in my nursery and picking out things for my boy. I thought she was the best then, but I knew it for sure after all she did for me when Owen came. Moms are just the best, aren't they?

The Last of the Bump

At this point my bump is nothing more than a memory-replaced by a darling, chubby, perfect little baby boy. I couldn't move on in my blog though until I finished documenting my bump though. I loved watching my body grow and change throughout my pregnancy. I was blessed with a love for my body and my bump while pregnant. How could I not love my body-knowing the miracle it was performing. 

As much as I loved this bump though, I absolutely love what was growing in it a million times more. 

Twenty-six Weeks

Twenty-seven Weeks

Twenty-eight Weeks

Twenty-nine Weeks

Thirty Weeks

Thirty-one Weeks

Thirty-two Weeks

Thirty-three Weeks

Thirty-four Weeks

Thirty-five Weeks

Thirty-six Weeks

Thirty-seven Weeks

Thirty-eight Weeks

Thirty-nine Weeks

The Final Countdown

My due date is 10 days away. I really feel like this little boy could show up any time-which would be ok with his mama. Before he comes though I want to take just a few minutes to share a few things about this pregnancy that have been on my mind.

-I love being pregnant. I have been blessed to be fairly healthy throughout this pregnancy, and the excitement of growing a baby has made this a wonderful experience.

-Feeling my baby boy inside me fills me with more happiness than I can express. I've loved that we've been a package deal for the last nine months, that no matter where I was I had one of my very best friends with me.

-Nesting is real, and settling into his little nursery was one of the most fun things about this last trimester. I loved hunting for the bargain furniture, washing his little clothes, and sewing his little mobile. Each little thing I did got me one step closer to him coming, and that made all of it extra special.

-I will miss hearing his heartbeat so frequently-but I'm pretty sure the little grunts, sneezes, cries and babbles will more than make up for it.

-I love this baby more than I thought I could, and I haven't even seen him yet. I'm in awe by the love I can feel for someone I've never even seen.

-As much as I want baby boy to be in my arms, and as uncomfortable as I am at this point in pregnancy, I'm trying my very best to make the most of this stage of my life. These final moments before he comes, and everything changes so drastically. One of my resolutions for this year is to be more present in every moment of my life and to enjoy the stage I'm in. So-as anxious as I am to hold him in my arms, for tonight I'm happy to cuddle up on the couch and feel his kicks inside me.

Showering our Little Boy

The day after Christmas our sweet aunt threw us a little family baby shower. It was a full of all of my favorite things-family time, delicious food, and of course celebrating this little boy! It was such a happy afternoon! Our family took very good care of this little guy, and helped us get so many of the essentials for him. It was a very happy day.

 My dear friend Ashley was in town and was kind enough to come celebrate Baby Boy with us. It was so fun to get to see her and discuss all things baby!

A few weeks later the darling second mom's I grew up with in the Alta Heights ward threw me a another shower. It was so fun to catch up with so many people I grew up with. They spoiled this sweet Baby Boy, and took very good care of me as well. I'm so glad a few of my friends could come too. My only regret is that I didn't take more pictures.

These baby showers reminded me once again how blessed I am to have such wonderful people in my life. I have so many people who care about me and already love my baby boy so much. It's inspiring and beautiful, and I'm so glad that we get to welcome this boy to a world where there is already so much love for him.