How the Goolds spend their evenings

10 months and a thank you

Max is now 10 months old!  Double-digits.  I have become more of slacker at recording important milestones as time has gone on (and I wasn't that good to begin with).  My other future children better not get their hopes up.
 

I love seeing this face when I go in to get him everyday

      

• He is now working on tooth #5!!  Still hasn't quite figured out how to chew with those little teeth but they are so cute and tiny!
• LOVES to eat Mommy and Daddy's food and feed himself
• Is becoming ever more independent and opinionated: he often growls a little if he doesn't get his way, but is still very good-natured (thank goodness!)
• In honor of Maurice Sendak, I thought to myself "The night Max made mischief of one kind and another, his mother called him wild thing," when Max ripped a book, got into the trash, needed 3 outfit changes, and broke our xbox all in one day.  Little stinker.
• He still loves to be outside whether it is on a swing, in his stroller, or just sitting on the grass (which he tries to eat).

                                                                                                                                                         

• He's still terrified of showers.
• He can pull himself up on anything and loves to walk along things.  He used to be able to only move to the left, but has now mastered both directions.
• Loves to push buttons: remotes, phones, TV, etc.
• Loves it when I start to chase him while he crawls, but then stops and crawls as fast as he can back to me, laughing the whole way and waits for me to grab and tickle him. I usually get a kiss out of it, too!
• Loves to squish his own tummy when he's in his diaper.  I don't blame it.  I love to squish it, too!
• Screams with excitement when he can hear my mom calling on Skype.
• Obsessed with watching cars drive by.  Obsessed.
• Has the cutest, quirkiest sense of humor.  Loves to play games with us.  He will crawl around on our bed and then stop and lie down until we say peek-a-boo!  Then he does it all over again. 
• I've blocked part of our apartment (including the bathroom) off with a chair during the day so he can't get into things.  If I have to hurry and get ready, he'll crawl over, stand up by the chair, and laugh to get my attention.  He will stay there and laugh and "talk" with me until I'm done.
• He can only say "Mama."  Sorry, Daddy.  Your turn will come.

My birthday dinner!

Jeff and I sure love our little man.  Each night we sneak together into his room to watch him sleep and giggle and whisper together about how cute he is and how much we love him.  I can't believe my little baby will be one soon!




Also, I have been so touched by the response to my last post through comments, emails, and phone calls.  It was something that I debated about sharing publicly since it was so deeply personal, but I realized that suffering can sometimes be alleviated when you see aspects of yourself in someone else's story.   I was brought to tears many times as you shared your own stories of trial and heartache, or simply expressed your love and support.  So, thank you.

I am a Mother

Yesterday was my first official Mother's Day.  It was beautiful.  Jeff made me a yummy breakfast and basically wouldn't let me lift a finger all day.  He taught our Primary lesson, watched Max so I could peacefully enjoy Relief Society, and took care of him at family dinner so I could eat.  Max gave me lots of slobbery kisses and even cuddled on Mommy's shoulder a few times (he is not generally a cuddly baby).  I soaked in my time with my two favorite boys, knowing I am so very, very blessed.  I am a mother.

From what I've heard, Mother's Day often evokes a variety of emotions for women.  It was no different for me.  Ten months ago a tiny little person was placed into my arms and in that moment my very self was changed.  I was a mother.  I realized how very few life events change your status and title for eternity.  This was one of them.  It was an intensely surreal and beautiful moment.  I felt awed, humbled, and overwhelmed.  This beautiful baby boy had been entrusted to me.  He was mine!  Forever!

I jumped in wholeheartedly.  We tried nursing for the first time, and wow- I’m pretty sure that was worse than actually having a baby.  No matter, I thought.  I knew it rarely just “clicked” and he and I would figure it out shortly.  My delivery had been surprisingly easy, and so I felt that perhaps Justice was a little miffed and was dealing out other challenges to make me feel like I truly belonged in the “Mom Club.”  I expected hard things.

Except that it didn’t get easier.  In fact, it got worse.  I began to dread trying to nurse because of the pain and the damage that was being done to my body.  I met with nurses and lactation consultants and they all encouraged me to keep trying.  So I nodded my head, squared my shoulders, and promised I would.  After all, he was dependent on me.  I would make this work.  I was his mother.

Our first night home, he screamed and cried almost constantly.  I was terrified.  I was his mother.  I was supposed to be able to soothe him and care for him.  Nothing worked.  Could this be the same sweet angelic bundle that I’d cradled in my arms in the hospital just a few hours earlier?  Exhausted, guilt-ridden, and with emotions whirling just beneath the surface, we headed to our first appointment with the pediatrician in the morning.  After weighing him and checking his measurements, she said, “He’s lost too much weight since his birth.” 

I burst into tears. 

She passed over tissues and reassured me that mothers did this all the time in her office.  After asking some questions, she determined that he wasn’t getting enough nourishment from me since my milk still hadn’t come in yet and that I needed to supplement with formula until it did.  

I knew and expected my hormones and emotions to be off-balance in the weeks following Max’s birth.  Although nursing never got better, I made things work.  I pumped exclusively for almost 4 months and then switched to formula. After discovering that he had head and neck issues that needed medical treatment, I took him to oh so many doctors’ appointments.  I soothed him while he cried at each one. I took him to get doctor-recommended injections and held and fed him while the anesthesia wore off.  I learned to research on my own, listen to my “mother’s intuition,” hold my ground, and be the advocate my baby needed. I took him to a pediatric chiropractor.  I learned about physical therapy and what I needed to do at home to help him get better.  We stretched, did strength training and “play” exercises all designed to help him get better.  And, thank goodness, he did.

But I didn’t.   

You see, I expected to feel a little crazy and a little “off” for a couple of months after birth while hormones sorted themselves out and while we established a new “normal” as a family of three.  Except that five, six, seven, eight months after his birth, I was still feeling crazy.  I felt out-of-control and ruled by my emotions.  I would get angry over something small, realize that it was a little thing, but still feel so very angry that I didn’t care.  I felt awkward in social situations.  I felt lonely and homesick.  I often felt overcome with hopelessness.  I remember sobbing to Jeff once in the middle of the night and admitting that I felt lost.  That somewhere along the way I had lost myself.  And I didn't know how to get me back.  I loved being a mom, loved my son with my whole heart, and yet, I was suffering.  Worst of all, my relationships were suffering, especially with the one who is most important to me – my husband.

Looking back now, I realize that I was suffering from post-partum depression.  There were several contributing circumstances: we'd moved right before Max was born and didn't really know anyone around us, I'd gone from working full-time to being home full-time which was an adjustment, Jeff was training for a marathon and so was gone more often than usual, Max had medical issues that took a lot of time to resolve etc., etc.  But to me, struggling in the midst of this, it seemed like I had failed as a wife and mother.  Everyone else I knew seemed to have made the transition seamlessly.  This was something I had planned for, prepared for, and looked forward to my entire life.  I wanted to be a mother and thought I was ready.  Then why was it still so hard?  I placed the burden of being an entire support system on my husband because I was too ashamed to admit my struggle to anyone else.  I felt that it would be equal to admitting I was failing and that was something I couldn't do.  I was Max's mother.

I want to be clear that I in no way blamed this on my baby or that I ever regretted staying home with him.  He was my one bright constant in all of this.  Also, my sweet husband talked with me, held me while I cried (often), and supported me to the best of his abilities.  Neither one of us recognized my problem as post-partum depression while it was going on.  I am happy to report that in the last few months, things have begun to improve.  I remember hanging out with some friends and saying to Jeff afterward that for the first time “I felt myself again” in a social situation.  However, we are emerging from a time of trial that lasted for quite a while and are still feeling the effects.  

Jeff and I have talked a lot about what we’ve gone through and our plan for moving forward.  So often during this trial I felt so much sadness and regret for the hard times.  I felt that it had irrevocably marred my sweet baby’s first year of life.  However, I forgot that there is beauty in hard things.  There is beauty in change, in learning, and in sacrifice.  I am different now.  I hope I am better.  While there are many things I certainly wish I had done differently, I have a better understanding of myself and of what I want for my marriage and family and what it takes to get there.  It requires a lot.  But we’re ready.  Oh, we know that other trials will come our way, maybe even some that are more difficult, but we have better learned to utterly rely on each other and to stand together…even when things seem impossible.  My sweet husband has seen me at my very lowest point, when I thought I had lost myself, and he helped me find my way back.  Yes, we may face harder challenges in the future…but, as always, we will face them together, turning to each other and the Lord (and hopefully others, next time) for support.  And if I had to struggle through eight-ish months to more fully realize these lessons, then I would do it again.

I am a mother. 

 

Friday Flashback - A Mother's Day Tribute

With Mother's Day just around the corner, Jeff and I decided to dedicate this Friday Flashback to our mothers.  We are both so blessed to have loving mothers that are amazing examples of strength, faith, fun, and grace.  Happy Mother's Day to you both!

Whitney:  I have always loved to sing.  Inspired by Julie Andrews at a very young age, my mom remembers me bursting into song with "Just a Spoonful of Sugar" and holding out my fingers as a perch whenever I saw birds.  It took me a few more years to figure out that the bird that landed on Mary Poppin's finger in the movie was fake.  "The Sound of Music" was my favorite movie although I had no idea what Nazis were at the time and I also did an amazing rendition of a mermaid laying on rocks singing "Part of Your World."  I know, I know, your mind was just blown imagining me at age 5 and the sheer genius of my repertoire.

So when the opportunity came in 6th grade for me to audition for an elite choir (show choir, no less.  Think jazz hands) I jumped at the chance!  I spent hours and hours belting out "Journey to the Past" from Anastasia, much to my brothers' chagrin. 

The day of the audition came.  I was supposed to report to the music room after school.  I nervously watched the clock through every class.  I silently listened to other students talk about the pieces they were singing and the rehearsals they'd had with their vocal instructors.  The bell rang at the end of the day.  I walked to the music room door.  And then I spun on my heel, ran for the bus, and headed home.  I couldn't do it.  I'd never make it.  I didn't have a voice coach.  These negative thoughts ran on repeat through my head the entire way home.

Stepping off the bus, I saw my mom waiting in the car for me.  How had she known?  Usually, I just walked home, but my sweet mom must have sensed my fear and doubt and was waiting for me at the bus stop.  Tears filling my eyes, I hurried to the car.  "I couldn't do it, Mom.  I was too scared."

Of course you can.  You're ready for this.  You have a beautiful voice.  You'll never know if you don't try.  My mom bolstered my courage, turned the car back towards the school and drove straight there.

I went in.  I sang.  I made the choir.  Conquering that one single audition gave me the courage to audition for several other choirs, musicals, and plays, leading to some of my favorite memories from middle school through college. 

Looking back, I would have missed out on so many other opportunities if it weren't for my Mom.  She taught me that "the worst they can do is say 'no'."  She had faith in me when my own wavered.  When faced with a problem, I call my mom to ask that she add her prayers to mine because I have seen evidence of the power of my mother's prayers.  Thanks, Mom, for pushing me, having faith in me, and for never giving up.  I love you.

Jeff: I was in high school when 9/11 occurred. I heard about it right before I left for school. Our school is located about half a mile away from JPL (Jet Propulsion Laboratory) in La Canada, CA. With all the confusion that morning brought and with our proximity to JPL, school officials decided to cancel school for the day. We were in first period when they announced that school was cancelled. Cell phones were not allowed in our school at the time and when they cancelled school they said if you have a cell phone, you may use it to call someone to pick you up. Instantly, every student pulled their cell phone out of their pocket.

There was a bit of chaos at our school because not everybody had a ride home. Most parents were working and couldn't leave in the middle of the morning. I had maybe 7-10 people ask me for a ride home. I was in my little truck so I piled them all in the back. I drove a few people home, but most people didn't want to go home. I asked my mom if I could come home with a few friends. Of course, she said that was fine.

My mom had run a day care in our home since before I was born. So when we came home, she was working. We came in and started watching the only thing that was on, replays of the horror that was 9/11. Pretty soon my phone rang and it was another one of my friends wanting to come over. Then one of my other friend's phone would ring and someone else would want to come over. It wasn't long before seemingly half of the school was piled in my family room watching the news and talking about the tragedy.

My mom made everyone feel so welcome. Everyone kept telling me how cool it was that my mom let everyone come over. For the rest of the time I was in high school our house was referred to as the bomb shelter.

My mom always made our house a place where everyone was welcome. Our house was the hang out. If we ever had nothing to do on the weekend, we could always go watch a movie at the bomb shelter. I know it kept us out of a lot of trouble. I hope I can make my home into a place where my children and their friends feel comfortable visiting often.    

St. George vacation

A couple of weeks ago we headed down to St. George to vacation with Jeff's family.  We rented a beautiful home with 9 bedrooms and heated pool and jacuzzi in the backyard.  We had the best time!

 

 

 

That face!  His smile gets me every time

Max loved the attention from all of his cousins and we loved being able to relax and enjoy time with family.  We played Just Dance, read by the poolside, enjoyed the sun, and ate way too much food.  Jeff's dad created his own version of "Deal or No Deal" and all of the adults and kids had fun playing.  He is a much nicer banker than the real one on the show.

Max absolutely LOVED the pool and got in every day.  He did a great job on the trip except for the very last night when only a car ride at 3 AM convinced him to go back to sleep without crying and waking everyone up!

 

My favorite picture from the trip

 Thanks to Gary and Judy for such a fun trip!  We are so lucky to have such great families and love spending time with them. 

Easter

I know this post is really late, but we have just been having too much fun around here lately.  We LOVED celebrating Easter with Max this year.  Jeff and I were so bad at celebrating holidays and creating our own traditions when it was just the two of us, so we've vowed to be better now that we have a little munchkin around (even though he has no memory of it).

We went with a bunch of my cousins and their kids to the Draper egg hunt on Saturday morning.  It was overcast and so chilly.  We definitely did not dress warm enough.  There was an area for each age group, but in Max's area, there were several signs that said, "No adults."  Jeff held Max and waited to see what would happen.  When the whistle blew and all the parents started running in with their kids, Jeff decided to break the rules, too.  Oops!  He helped Max get two eggs and then left the other kids to get the rest.  Honestly, I think Max could have cared less.  His poor little nose was red and running and he just wanted to get out of there.

After a good nap, we met up with our friends Jennie and Derek and their little girl, Ashlynn, for the Easter egg hunt at Thanksgiving Pointe.  The day had warmed up and turned out to be pretty great weather and we had so much fun watching our two little ones get excited over the eggs.

On Easter Sunday, we had the privilege of attending a beautiful church meeting where we reflected on our Savior and the true meaning of Easter.  We loved teaching the kids in our Primary class about the hope we can all have because of our Savior's atonement.

We spent the rest of the day with Jeff's family enjoying a delicious dinner and the wonderful company.  It was a happy day.

Max and his twin cousins.  Thanks, Grandma Goold, for the matching ears!