Hair Cut!

So, Whereas Quinn turns 2 next week and Whereas Quinn's hair was getting crazy and whereas the morning battles were getting increasingly longer each day and ... in spite of Tim's objections ....

Quinn got her first hair cut today.

A couple people told me to just cut it on my own, but I figured that would only further the relationship damage that "hair" has already had on my relationship with my first born. So, I got a coupon from a great neighbor, and we headed to "Cookie Cutters" to get a special big girl hair cut complete with a poodle-themed salon chair and Elmo on the small screen.

The "after" pics don't really do her new style justice because I would never round brush her hair in a million years because 1) I am lazy 2) She hates time doing hair and 3) Fellows have round heads ...

Here is the product of our fun day!



Curly and Crazy: The "Before" Shot




Focused on Elmo: The "During" shot as Ashlee checks out the curls and cuts them off.




Why wait until the end for a sucker?




Cutest Place Ever!!




So happy!




From the back!





More from the front!




Posing with her Balloon and her sucker. Very Proud.





Mommy saves a lock of hair.




Time to slide and play!!





All done and so pretty!




Also, notice her adorable outfit, which, of course, was one of the many we bought on our Monday shopping trip. I couldn't help take pictures of her ALL day. Love it.

"Hey, look at that. I made a little Mormon!" (And so did Lindsay)

Two amazing things happened yesterday.

First, and most importantly, my Lindsay gave birth to Baby Bennett Roger Purdie (Benny.) I am off to go see them in a few minutes, and I can barely wait! Congratulations, Lindsay!

Also, Lindsay, I hate you ... for not taring at all and telling me you "feel great" this morning after delivering a nearly 9 lb baby just hours before. Love and and hate are very close, of course.

Secondly, and very special to me, it was my Mormon anniversary yesterday. I've been officially Mormon now 11 years, and as I told my big sister yesterday, I am going strong ... except for the maternity swearing, but I am only human, right?

For the first several years of celebrating my Mormon birthday, I would go to the Temple to renew my baptismal covenants (kind of.) But as we have been married for awhile now, we try to celebrate in different ways. Last year went to the Temple and did sealings for the first time. It was like getting married over and over again for an hour, and we loved it.

This year, I forgot to get a sitter, so the day was about to go by unnoticed, but instead we made a big night of it. We headed to SLC to meet up with Bridget, Ben and little Paige. Bridget was my very first Mormon friend, so I owe her a lot, and it was really cool to celebrate together. We didn't get all cheesy or anything, but it was nice to be together.

We met up at Temple Square in Salt Lake. Why not to do Mormon things to celebrate a Mormon day, right?




Tim, Quinn and I got there early and ran around the temple. Quinn loved it. I loved it too. I know she doesn't understand a whole lot about God yet, but it was a very peaceful feeling to see her enjoying her first visit to a place that has so much meaning to us as a family.




And I couldn't help but think, "Hey, look at that. I made a little Mormon!"

It is very comforting to know that this is one area of our lives that is always peaceful and agreed upon (within reason, of course.) Our marriage was created on this path, and our kids will get to feel that spiritual comfort and security forever... and hopefully go on to make little Mormons of their own some day. (Making Mormons is the best!)





(When you are out with Quinn, you have to stop for horses at all costs AND to say, "Hey, look ... a bus!" everytime one drives by. That is just our standard operating procedure. Here is our horse pics. We also saw a LOT of buses!)


After we met up with the Reeds, we went to the History of Church History and Art. We planned to go straight to the children's exhibit, but we probably could have skipped it because the girls loved everything at the museum so much. Mostly they loved running around and touching things they were not supposed to touch.


(The curator said they have to repaint Moroni's toes ALL the time because little Paiges and Quinns LOVE to touch him. Moroni is the name of the Angel who plays the trumpet at the top of most LDS Temples. He's important for lots of reasons, but mostly he helped preserve the Book of Mormon through history.)


(Looking at the Temple from inside the museum.)


My favorite was when tiny Paige climbed behind the bar of a big handcart and tried to push it. So funny!



And much like how I like to copy Bridget, Quinn had to give it a try. Look at our little modern pioneers!! (Large groups of Mormons used these handcarts to walk from the midwest to the Salt Lake Valley. They are a Mormon classic item.)




When we got to the exhibit, the girls wanted to stay in the first area, which was set up like a hospital baby nursery. It is supposed to represent the part of the song, "I am a Child of God" that says, "He has sent me here..." (like from heaven to earth...get it?) They loved dressing and feeding the babies, and putting them to sleep.






(She also fed herself with a baby's bottle...)

Quinn found some other Mormon things to do, too. She found a puzzle on the wall there you look at pictures of Mormons doing Mormon things. What could be more fun, right?









(Magnets help the family car get from the house to the church and the temple.... classic!)


She found the baby Jesus, too, but she preferred the baby sheep. (In the pic you can see her saying, "SHHHHHeep.")





And my personal favorite: She held on to this iron rod and walked on the "straight and narrow path" from Lehi's dream in the Book of Mormon. The path represents obedience to the gospel throughout your life. But she got bored quickly and had more fun jumping OFF the path. Should I be worried?




(Getting ready to jump!!!)


We ended the night with dinner at Tucci's in Salt Lake. The food was average, but the service was top notch and worth the money. They treated us like Kings and Queens, welcomed two 2-year-olds with open arms and gave us plenty of time and space to catch up and hang out.

Being Mormon is fun. You should try it.

Home Invasion ... kind of

We never used to lock our doors. It was just a bad habit. We didn't even have a key to the front door for a long time. Not sure Tim's reason for it, but mine was because I am afraid to lock doors. When I am locking a door, I get freaked out about why we have to lock doors in the first place, and it gets me all scared. Backward? Yes. But that is me.

We changed our mode of operation when Avery moved in because in the heat of that situation, we needed to keep her (and us) especially safe. But I still hate locking the front door. Every time I approach the front door at night I am convinced that as I reach to lock it, someone will push it open and attack me. Ok, also keep this in perspective that I have maternity craziness adding to my fears.

But basically my worst fears came true last night. I think it scared me right out of my fear. Get this:

Last night, Tim fell asleep at 7 p.m. after a long day of watching Quinn. (You can't blame him for that.) I was up until 9 p.m. When I got into bed, of course, I could not sleep.

THEN...

After a few minutes I heard a noise. I thought it sounded like someone touching the front door knob. It really scared me, but I told myself, it is just the craziness talking.

THEN...

I heard another noise as if someone was trying to walk through our house quietly. This scared me even more because of the first noise.

THEN...

I heard a third noise. I knew that none of the noises could actually be in the house because they would have been so much louder if someone were actual in the house. But I remembered that since Tim fell asleep so early, the front door was probably unlocked. I stared to panic, and I was worried I was going to have an actual panic attack if I didn't do something. I pictured this crazy person we know trying to steel Quinn from her bed. My adrenaline was really pumping. I decided to go for.

I walked down the hall in the dark and straight to the front door. I reached for light swtiches in places where we do not have light swtiches. It was still dark when I got to the door. I could barely barely breathe. REMEMBER: THIS IS MY WORST FEAR!

I remember thinking, "Oh my gosh. I can't believe I am about to lock the door before making sure there is not someone in the house." Our door is sticky, so you have to lift the door while you lock it which means you have to stand with your whole body against the door. But did it.

I locked it, and started to run from the door as fast as I could because I was sure someone was about to try to get it.

I didn't get more than 3 feet when I just about died!! Someone started POUNDING on the door.

I jumped and screamed at the top of my lungs in the dead of night.

This caused a chain reaction, and Tim jumped out of bed with the fear of God in him. He was sort of screaming and grunting and breathing really heavy. He started running toward me. I ran to meet him in the hall. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I freaked out. It's nothing. It's nothing."

No matter what I said, he was still in King Kong mode ready to kill the home invader. He said later that when he heard my voice, he woke from a deep sleep and was 100% positive that someone was in the house and that he was going to have to kill that person. That is the energy that was running through him. You could see it in his eyes that this is what he thought and felt. It took over a minute to calm him down. (Quinn was crying in her bed by this point.)

Tim was still a bit pumped up when he swung the door open to see one of his best friends Brandon standing there on the porch scared to death because he heard all the commotion inside and didn't know how to make things right. (After all he had only knocked on a friends door at 9 o'clock at night. Harmless. Little does he know how crazy I am.)

We all took a minute to share our sides of the story, and then we had a good laugh about it over chips and salsa.

I guess Brandon had parked by the garage to drop off Tim's drum set. He walked over to the front door from the side of the house.... which caused all the little noises I heard. When he heard me lock the door, he thought it was someone unlocking the door to greet him. He was planning to just walk in and say hello. He went with the loud knock as a way to say, "Hey everyone, Uncle Brandon's here!", and was greeted by a ton of screaming. We was as scared as we were.

Quinn just seemed annoyed that she got woken up, but she did ask if "Bob, Bob" was ok when I went to tuck her back in.

Tim and I talked about what happen a lot while Brandon was here and after. I was worried he would be mad at me a little for overreacting, waking him up and scaring him so badly , but he said honestly understood and that he would not have expected me to react in any other way. He said he gets up a lot in the night to double check the locks, and if someone had knocked when he was at the door, it would have freaked him out too. On top of that, we had just talked last week about how scared I am of locking the door!

We talked about how amazing the human body is to be able to reaction in such quick ways. Obviously, my flight responce was triggered when the door knocked, and Tim's fight response came in full force. He said he can't imagine how people get mugged and not kill their mugger in the heat of the moment!!

Either way, I think the entire situation made me a bit less scared. I can't imagine going to lock the door in the night again without laughing my head off.

Tim thoughts this was the month...

And he was right!


Details
Negative on Friday and then positive on Monday. Clomid this month but no IUI. I'm already picking up horrible smells from across the room. And my heart is beating fast with the increased blood flow. And, as always, I always have to pee. Due in Early June.

Thank Yous
Thanks to everyone who supported us (me) over the last year. It has been a long road, and your love and support has meant all the difference. Thank you for walking on egg shells. Don't think I didn't notice you minimizing your joys for me. It wasn't completely necessary; but I saw it all, and I love you for it. (You know, standard, "It must have been cold there in my shadow..." la, la, la.)

Also, thanks to my very important group of ladies who have been or are currently in my infertility club. I love you all so much, and I offer hundreds of constant prayers that your pain will be eased. May we all have peace of mind and peace of heart no matter what our situation. I will miss the closeness that I feel with all of you. Give me 9 months, and I'll be back as club president. But I hope you don't mind me saying, that I hope none of you are in the club when I get back.

Pregnancy
It has been a while since I even let myself think about the idea of being pregnant. It all is sinking in very slowly now, and I am delighted. I stick by my stance that pregnancy -- in all its complexity and pain -- is a miracle. I'm five minutes into this adventure, and I already feel like a miracle -- an actual miracle.

Taryn's Thoughts on Too Many Babies
Apparently my niece does not share the mindset that all children are miracles. Tim's sister Katie has 4 kids. Her oldest is Taryn who is 7 years old. She is a bit of a worrier. When Katie told Taryn that Aunt Jill was having a baby, Taryn asked what I was having. Katie told her we won't know for awhile. Taryn said with a very serious face, "I hope she has a girl." Katie asked why, and Taryn said, "Because that way Quinn will have a sister right away. Cause 4 babies is crazy. Too many."

Quinn
After Tim and I found out on Monday morning, we ran in to tell Quinn when she woke up. I got really excited and yelled, "We're going to have a baby at our house." She then got very excited too and pointed to the top corner of her room. Tim and I both turned to see what she was pointing at. Our chins dropped. It was a very old picture of Quinn as a baby that we have never pointed out or talked to her about. She wanted to hold the picture and show us our new baby.

Plan in Pencil

Do any of your ladies remember getting to a point in your marriageable youth when you didn't want to make plans because you didn't know if Mr. Right was around the conner? 'Cause if he was better not switch corners at the last minute. Anyway, for a short while I was almost paralyzed by this thought because it meant so much to me to start a family, and I wanted to do it as soon as possible. But a wise person told me that I had to go on with my life and have a plan. But he said, "Plan in Pencil." Plan. Go full speed ahead, but do it in pencil. You can always change the plan if you need to.

We all know I practiced this preaching when I "planned" on serving a mission, got a mission call, changed the departure date three times and then got marriage instead.

Motherhood is also pretty good practice for this, but it is more about the daily plan. Remember my excitement for Quinn's first day of nursery at church? I picked the outfit, did a test run, talked to her teachers, got the camera ready and was ready to go. But in 18-month-old fashion she was sick with a cough, and the penciled plan was ... postponed. (I was not about to have her get pegged as the nasty, sick, coughing kid on the very first day!)

Pencil. Temporary. It is a nice feeling because you remember that you have a lot of the control over your life. Remember how my husband is in a rock band? We use a lot of pencil. I think I like life this way. When Tim was starting his big corporate job a few years ago, I had a panic attack because I felt like the job and the plan were all in ink. Forever. I hated it. Hence, I added the Chris Merritt clause which changed the plan to pencil. 8 months later... erase.... and here we are.

Tim has been talking about moving to the east coast. I'd love to. Sounds great. But I am going to plan on staying here ... in pencil. I will stay completely invested in the moment, the neighborhood, the job and my very wonderful friends and deal with the east coast if the official erase ever happens. (I liked to try and see him erase without me on board. Good luck, baby.)

Fertility is also all about pencil.

A favorite teacher once said in Winston Churchill fashion, "You have to plan, you have to plan, you have to plan, and you can't do anything without a plan." And like any good scholar, I researched the theory and added to it ... in pencil.

Clomid Update

Warning to the uncommitted reader: Fertility Update

So, the first round of Clomid was a no go. It gave me hot flashes and no baby. If I am lucky my doctor will give the time of day enough today to prescribe round 2. I'm in no mood to talk about it.

We might have time for a fourth IUI before Tim leaves, but that is left up to the ovary gods.

If we can't get pregnant, Quinn and I are renting a bus and going with Tim. I deserve travel. Don't I? It's the perk of only one baby. Of course, we'd have to get rich first.

To Do List:
Get Pregnant
Get Rich

Sounds each enough on paper.

First Day of Christmas

I plan ahead for a Halloween without my man.

Tim and I love Christmas. We're not scare to admit it. We LOVE it.

So, we have a few special days in the Fall that gear us up for the big birthday. (Jesus', of course.)

First, we have Halloween. I grew up hating Halloween because my mother hates it. We had only one very small box of ghost and goblin decorations, and most of them involved fashioning baby ghosts out of toilet paper or something like unto it. We never got trick-or-treaters because we lived in a neighborhood full of old people. And trick-or-treating was also not so fun because, again, we lived in a neighborhood full of old people ... that was also on a hill. And despite what most people believe, it does get cold in California, and for some reason Halloween was always one of those nights. A windy night can turn a beautiful, rented Princess dress into just a slip under a florescent pink coat very quickly.

But after we got married and moved into our house, it all changed. Halloween became about neighbors coming by and winter coming to stay. We set up some family traditions and decided as a couple that the best part about Halloween is that it is the first day of Christmas. After Halloween the cold comes and the season begins. Soon you get to Thanksgiving which is, of course, our second special day of the Christmas season. We start a count down to Christmas on Thanksgiving and put up our tree and host our first party that very weekend. So in our home we celebrate wintertime and family-time from Oct. 31 until the end of December, and we love it.

So on top of all our traditional emotions for the holiday, this is a big Halloween for us this year because Quinn is old enough to walk around the neighborhood begging for candy that I will, of course, throw away for her. But Tim is going to be on tour for a month before and a month after the First Day of Christmas this year. So, tonight we did what any normal Christmas loving family would do. We planned our Halloween so that he would not feel left out of the fun on the big day.

As our Family Home Evening activity, we looked through a costume catalog for ideas for Quinn. Then we went through her closest and pulled out her Poodle costume from last year and the Kimono Tim brought back from Japan last June. We tried both on her. She hated the poodle. She loved the Kimono. So, there you have it. Our Little Kristie Quinn is going to be a Little Asian Girl for her second Halloween. We are going to put her hair in a ponytail with chop sticks, and she will answer the door for Trick-or-Treaters and pass out fortune cookies and Asian cider.

My parents are coming into town for that weekend, so I will not be lonely. But I am sure I will have to do some convincing to get them on board for the the whole "First Day of Christmas" emotion of the evening. Tim will be on video Skype on the computer for half of the night so he will be able to see Quinn and watch her hand out the cookies.

So now because of a little forethought, the First Day of Christmas 2008 will survive. I better get used to this planning ahead and these kind of "including daddy" activities because I don't think the tours are getting any shorter.

Happy Halloween. Merry Christmas.

The Best Nanny Ever

I brag about my amazing husband and try to be ok with him becoming a better mom than I am.

So, Quinn has been freaking about her B-O-T-T-L-E these days. She wakes up from a long nap, but she is only happy for 10 seconds before screaming at me for a bottle. She's back to waking up multiple times in the night for that wretched M-I-L-K, and all for her words are turning into "A Ba, A Ba, A ba" (with her finger pointed toward the kitchen and her face contorted into quite the little attitude.) A few days ago Tim and I talked about how we're not sure we can handle it anymore, and we're not sure what to do.

In an unrelated event, I left for work the next day feeling like my poor daughter was going to lose a whole day of her life because -- come on -- what's in a day without the momma anyway? But I got home several hours later and was greeted by a happy child who was holding her new sippy cup and a husband who whispered, "I never gave her a B-O-T-T-L-E today. She's rolling with it."

What? That is crazy! I was so proud of them both, but I started to cry especially when I realized this was no accident; and it was not easy. He had had to distract her all day, come up with new game plans, deal with a few fits, and feed her non stop since her little belly was not full of M-I-L-K like it normally is.

There doing it without me, I thought. More tears. They get along fine without me. More tears.

But what am I complaining about. This is great. I surrender. And trust me I have. I don't claim to know the slightest about how this B-O-T-T-L-E thing works. This is daddy's thing. I have to ask him for help everyday when I get home because the minute she sees me she starts working on me to cave. The little tears. The little fits. The big hugs. It breaks my heart, and I have to say, "Bob (Tim), help. I don't know how to do it. Can you try giving her the M-I-L-K in a cup? I do it all wrong." Look at my amazing husband.

But I've got to tell you that this time last year I was coming home from work to a 6 month old baby who had been squeezed into a newborn-sized sleeper playing on the floor that had toys and dishes and junk everywhere. The guilt combined with the mess was like poison for my soul, and I would turn into a crazy person. I would stomp around cleaning the house.

I was exhausted after my long days and totally angry that he couldn't manage to do more than keep the baby alive. (He forgot to feed her solid food for a few months...) I got so made after two weeks of this that I fired him as my nanny. I took a second job, and spent my new earnings at a day care. It figured it was this or divorce. Extreme times. Extreme measures.

After a few days of Tim taking Quinn to daycare at 9 a.m., he said to me, "What if I don't want to take her to day care? Can I just keep her home with me. We have fun."

"NO!" I said. "You have lost your privileges. It is too late!"

Then I remember the next week I got home from my crazy day, and the blanket in the front room was folded and thrown neatly over the couch. I took a deep breath. We were going to get through this. Six weeks later Quinn and her nanny were reunited, and things have improved every week since. And now he's looking up B-O-T-T-L-E weening on the Internet without me and going for the gold. What a jewel!

Yesterday as I was driving home from work, I got a call from Tim and Quinn.

"Hi," he said. "I was just wondering if you wanted to meet Quinn and me for a snowie on your way home."

"Are you kidding?" I said. "That sounds like the best idea I have ever heard."

"Coool," he said. "I wanted to get Quinny a treat since she went another day without a B-O-T-T-L-E."

Now that is a great Mom if I've ever known one.

So here's to my husband. A man who follows his dreams, bathes the baby, makes great Mac and Cheese and works it as both a mom and a dad. He never complains. He never criticizes.

He rarely retorts.

Best Nanny ever. Best Dad ever. Best Friend ever.

IUI Update: lying, crying and clomid

Warning: Graphic Fertility Update. Not for sensitive eyes or for the faint of heart. 

No more babies yet. Round two of the IUI didn't take. I found out on my birthday, which you could probably imagine as a horrible experience. But it wasn't as sad as some months. I've been on an amazing and relaxing summer vacation, so maybe that acting as a buffer between me and my true feelings. 

But I did become a crazy person for a few hours when I called the nurse and lied to her so that I could get for aggressive treatments for next month. Not really my style. I told her I started on Friday, when I didn't start until the next day. She would have given me the medicine without the lie. So basically I risked my eternal soul for nothing. It wasn't worth it. 

But when I tried to justify it, Tim pointed out that the last time I got close to lying (OK, lying) was also for my children. It was for Quinn in the hospital after she was born, when the nurse wouldn't let me take her home until she had "two more good feedings." This was a total farce because she was perfectly healthy, already on a schedule, and had just eaten right before the nurse told me this. So, I did what any self-respecting mother would do. I went in there an hour later and overfed my baby, and then I went back and hour after that and hid behind a screen with my sister. She lied to the nurse for me and told her I was nursing back there. It was proud moment in my motherhood -- the moment where I truly became Quinn's advocate at all costs. 

And in general I feel like I have every right to be an advocate for this unborn, un-conceived baby, but I guess I found my limit because I felt horrible about this lie for days. I eventually called and made my peace with the nurse. I really am crazy. But at least now I am crazy and at peace ... sort of. 

So, the actual update for this month is that I am on Clomid. This is a first for me, and I am a little nervous (mostly because of the lying fiasco but whatever). When you take Clomid, you take one pill on days 3 through 7 of your cycle. I started yesterday and have three more pills to go. The goal of the Clomid is to help your ovary ovulate. In some cases the ovary the ovary will get over stimulated by the Clomid and will release two eggs -- Twins. But this is not actually that common. Most multiple births from fertility drugs come from a different drug that is administered through injections. But still, there is a whole list of side affects to using Clomid, but hopefully the only one I will get is a baby. Seems that worst case says I might get moody, fat or dizzy for five days. I can do anything for five days. So far I have not felt any differently except that I had a sharp pain for like 10 seconds on my left side yesterday. No biggie. I am in it to win it. So whatever. 

Another more urgent goal for trying the Clomid is that I think it might make my cycle shorter. I'm trying to fit two more inseminations in before Tim leaves for tour on Sept. 15. By then it will be time for more tests that Tim does not need to be around for. But as long as we are talking about bad news -- my UVU medical insurance will run out at the end of June which means I need to be pregnant by mid October or so. Yikes. I'll find a way to make it work. I always do. Or -- I guess -- God does. 

A Women's Waiting Room

A detailed rant about all my tears today and the ups and downs of womanhood.

So I sort of had a break down today, but I got to share it with some strangers that gave me some perspective. I went in for my second IUI procedure. I left the house in a bad mood with a seemingly horrible, unfix-able and unfair problem AND very mad at my husband. I got halfway to the freeway when I realized I forgot both my phone and my book. I couldn't turn around because of the nature of an IUI, and I couldn't call Tim to say I was sorry as I had planned to do moments after leaving the house. I also couldn't call any of my sisters or girlfriends to help me work through my issues. And, to top if off, I knew I didn't have a good book to read while I would wait at the doctor's office for over an hour.

When I got to the appointment, the receptionist sent me straight to the business office to pay my bill in full. This was a shock since I had voluntarily called two days before and payed last months bill, and when I called they asked how much of my bill I wanted to pay. I had payed it all, of course. I kindly explained to the horrible person at the counter that I just pain this same amount two days ago, and I had not planned on paying it again right away. I started to tear up and she started to argue and bring a neighbor in on the action. I told her to forget it. I paid the bill while she continued to give me attitude. I still didn't have my phone, and I really needed to talk to Tim to complained about this big mean woman and to tell him how much I love him.

I found a seat in the waiting room and surrendered to a Parenting Magazine (although I am a die-hard Parents Magazine reader.) Within minutes a very happy woman walked in with her 7 week old, her 1-year-old son and her mother. I wanted to puke on them. I tried to focus on my magazine, but I welled up a few times if I thought about the woman at the counter, the woman next to me, my unsolved sadness at home or my overall crazy stress.

A few minutes later a girl my age walked in and tried to explain something to the receptionist. She stopped to cry a few times, and I realized she was having a miscarriage. I started to bawl. I just cried right there in the waiting room. I had to. It was just too sad. There was just too much sadness in the room. I could feel her energy, and it overwhelmed me. I tried to clear myself up, but I just kept remembering her pain. I'd look at her, and I'd start to cry all over again.

So, to try to distract myself, I looked up to another corner of the waiting room. I noticed another woman my age sitting 7 seats away from her husband. They were trying to quietly talk out a fight they were having. She was clearly out of her mind with anger and grief at whatever he did. I heard her say, "But you knew I was upset, and you didn't even try to make me feel better." It was like a script of mine. I wanted to hug her. I understood. But I could feel her tension. It made me cry. I just wanted to tell her that nothing is that bad. He'll understand later and say sorry so she should just enjoy her ultrasound.

I tred to focus on my magazine, but I keep looking at the miscarrying girl, the anger girl, the happy new mom, the wonderful Grandmother. I thought about the horrible woman in the business office, the nice receptionists, the woman who wheeled in her brand new stroller while staring endlessly at her new born. And in that moment we all represented womanhood at various stages of life (or on any given day.) It is intense to be a woman. We're everywhere. We're a little crazy. We're that Garth Brooks song, "She's Fire and Ice." We go through everything. We endure. We overcome. We cry. We laugh. We try. We learn. And Sometimes we just wait. So I just let my tears pour out every few minutes, and when I finally got to the procedure room and the nurse asked me, "How are you today?", I just said "fine" in a not so fine voice like Eeyore because that is truly how I felt.

When it was all over, I rushed home to apologize to my husband who I love so much. I sped all the way, and I when I threw open the front door, he said, "Hey, Mommy's home, Quinn. How did it go, babe?" And he had no I idea I'd left in a huff or that I had not taken my phone.

Oh, Ladies. It is just exhausting sometimes.

Pray, Read, Write and Share

Tim and I started a new scripture study plan this week. The change has been a long time coming. Basically since the first time we opened the scriptures together (when we were dating,) we've had different styles and ideas for how it should be done. So now, 6 years later, ... well, some things just take time.

Our new method combines what we both like about the scriptures. It's called pray, read, write and share, and I learned it at Girls' Camp last week. The process can be altered, but basically, you get together, say a quick prayer, read the same scriptures silently, write some of your thoughts and then share your thoughts.

It works for us because Tim likes to read a whole chapter straight through for his scripture study, and I like to stop and ponder and look stuff up and over analyze a bit. With this method, we both get to do our thing, but we get the closeness of reading the same parts and sharing our thoughts -- however great or small.

We're lucky that we have so much time together these days. We've planned to do our reading every morning at 9 a.m. Most ladies aren't so lucky to have their man home during the day. This is one of the many perks of the drummer's wife/ owner of the band. But Tim and the band will be gone for 8 weeks in the fall, so I have got to get all my time with him in now. Reading the scriptures together feels great and seems to count double for quality time. Hopefully we'll keep our new scripture adventure alive on the road with Skype and other modern marvels.

Anniversary Success

Our 5th Anniversary was a wonderful success.

Well, we started our adventure with a family trip to Jimmy John's for some sandwiches. Then, we dropped Quinn off at Chris and Avery's house at about 4, and left for the rest of the night. I surprised Tim with a trip to Lagoon. Lagoon is the only amusement park in Utah. It is totally ghetto. We had never been, and it made a great backdrop for talking, catching up and celebrating the last five years of having fun together. We sat in an hour of traffic, and then we got completely soaked in our clothes on the very first ride. We were the only people fully clothed and the only people who got so wet. Most of the people at the park enjoy both the water park area and the regular rides, so they walk around half wet and half dressed (which beautifully adds to the ghetto feeling in the air.) We hit a couple rides and had an Icee before leaving and heading to the Pie Pizzeria for a late night snack.

It was weird to sleep at our house without Quinn in the next room. I was sore in the morning because I am not used to sleeping through the night. I woke up at 8 a.m. and couldn't wait to go get Quinn. Tim and I enjoyed the morning and our Pizza breakfast, and then we went to pick up Quinn at about 11. You never saw a tireder baby. We brought her home for a nap before finishing the weekend with a trip to the petting zoo at the Thanksgiving Point Farm.

It really was a wonderful and relaxing weekend. I'm grateful for my marriage and my family, and I look forward to a huge celebration in 5 more years.

Happy 5th Anniversary

Happy 5th Anniversary to me and Tim today.

Five years and: 1 house, 4 kittens, 7 jobs, 1 baby, 8 fruit trees, 2 vacations, 4 televisions, 1 funeral, 6 computers, 5 blogs, 3 cars, 1 Avery, 3 anniversaries, 1 Tivo, 8 clothing sizes, 1 perfect cat, 5 road trips, 19 frames pictures, 1 basement apartment, 11 Dorado T-shirts, 8 pick poodles, 5 house guests, 2 white poodles, 3 iPods, 1 Chris Merritt, 10 church callings, 5 health insurance companies, 9 cell phones and dozens and dozens of steaks.

We're no movie plot, but we work.

May all of your marriages be happy (and freakin' crazy.)

IUI for Father's Day

The following blog with be written in formal Fertileeze, a language women use when talking about fertility so their men won't run and hide. Read at your own risk because I can only be so cryptic:

So, we decided last month to start trying IUI. It cost $220 and basically rocks. But we thought this month was a lost cause because Tim was going to be in Japan when I would receive my LH surge. Well, turns out the calendar was off, and I got my very first positive OPK today! It was quite exciting because I am just not used to any kind of positive result after peeing on a stick. Cross your fingers. The procedure will probably happen tomorrow -- On Father's Day -- and we are hoping for the best. I'll let you know in two weeks.

If you are interested in knowing more about this super personal process, check my other blog jillfellownewfacts.blogspot.com where I will spill it all in the name of new knowledge and hope for others.

Infertility: Who do you talk to?

Warning: Men hate to hear about Fertility, so if you're reading... you've been warned and should just stop reading.


So, ladies, as most of you know I am totally laking in the fertility side of life. Ever notice that we hear so much more about fertile Myrtle and not nearly enough about the pains and successes of the rest of us?

I get it. It's personal and sad, and we think we're alone. But does it have to be this way? I think the silence just perpetuates the sadness.

I've been a lot better during this round of infertility than I was the first time when I turned into a complete crazy person, but I still have hard days. And I still find it fascinating that this is the only issue in my life that is hard to find the right person to talk to about.

My husband does what he can, but as I have said... he is no woman when it comes to talking and sharing.

And all my friends are in their child-baring years like me, which just causes a lot of chances for awkward moments.

It goes like this: You know I'm trying. I know you know. You get pregnant... it's a good thing I didn't tell you how I really feel. Now that I never shared, I can just drop off a gift and smile real big and maybe it will make everything go by smoothly.

Or how about this? What if I decide you are the one to share with? I finally hit the wall, and you are there. I tell you exactly how badly I hurt. You cry. I cry, and the next day, Yeah!, you're pregnant. Looks like I'll find a new confidant because it is just weird for both of us now.

Or even worse, after my big break down and my vulnerable moment.... Yeah!!! I' pregnant, and now I just feel like a big baby. Now I showed you how crazy I really am for nothing.

None of those options seems worth it, so we just keep quiet.

But whenever I need to talk, all of these scenarios run through my head, and I feel like I have no one.

I'm luckier than most because I have an open personality, and I have a few best friends who are honest about these ackwardnesses. Bridget just came out and told me one day that if I got pregnant, I should not expect her to be happy right away (as she geared up to try again after her two miscarriages.) And my dear Lindsay sat me down after I had been trying to get pregnant for 5 horrible months and told me she was going to try for number two. She told me it was ok to cry. I did ... in front of her and at home. I cried before she got pregnant (the next day) and after. And I will always be grateful for the honesty and love of these two close friends.

But it still doesn't make the problem go away. Who should you talk to? Who will always be there?

My mom thinks I'm too poor to have another baby, so she won't really be listening if I chose to talk to her. My sister who is the best listener I know is having a baby on Wednesday, and I believe with all my soul that she should not have to listen or care about me right now. Plus, she is fertile as hell and can't really understand.

Then anyone you choose is probably going to say something like, "Oh, the minute you stop worrying about it, you'll get pregnant," "It just takes time" or "Oh, you'll probably get pregnant next month."

And there is always the added problem (which isn't really a problem in the end) that for most women with fertility issues, they actually could get pregnant "next month," and since you know that, it is hard to open up. You just wait. And wait.

But eventually, even if it is only for a moment each month, you will hit the wall. You are not wired to keep in this much pain, which is one of the reasons why, of course, you turn into a crazy person.

So, I don't have a complete solution, but I do have some ideas, friends.

Old people and strangers. This is who you should talk to.

They don't have to be that old, but women who are no longer having children can be great to talk to. Now, a lot of them aren't, so be careful. But a lot of them are.

One time on a horrible day, I ended up at my neighbor's house. She's an older women who has several children raised and out of the house. I was at her house to pick up a check for a neighborhood event, and I started asking her questions about the pictures on her wall. She pointed to her kids and starting telling me their ages. There was a 6 year gap from one child until her pair of twin girls. She gently and subtly let me know that the pain of those 6 years was nearly unbearable, and that she sees her twins as the miracle that healed a huge part of her heart.

A few days later a little cat walked into my life and (no joke) because of that talk with Gretal, I was able to see the healing powers in that miracle. I completely changed my life and perspective.

For the next several months, I knew that Gretal was there across the street, and that if I hit the wall, I could go open up to her. I never did. I never needed too, and I think it was because I knew she was an option for me. I wasn't alone.

Just yesterday, I talked to my husband's aunt about her own years of baby making. She had her fair share of trouble. She is not super emotional, but, again, I knew that if I needed to talk at a later time, she will be there.

Strangers are great, too, because they tend to go away. They can be there in the moment, and they can't be there to get pregnant or judge you or gossip about you the next day.

They don't always know what they are talking about, but when you find the right one, they are Golden. I met a friend a few weeks ago on plane who had the same problems I did getting pregnant with her first. We both loved to talk it out and to work through some of the emotion that was still lingering.

I ask strangers all kinds of questions. If they have kids ages 10 and 3, I ask something like, "That is interesting. Did you choose that age difference or was that how life workout for you?" I love the peace and strength I get from their answers, and I find that just like I need to talk, so do they.

Obviously, fertility is huge. I have tons to say about the process, the worry, the reasons, the logic, the medicine and the gospel, but that is all for another day.

In the meantime, here are a few sites that offer places to talk and get more information:
Two of Us for Now: Web site for infertile Mormon couples
Fertility Plus: information from patients for patients
Resolve: A national organization that I am thinking of volunteering with




Quinn at 10 months. My miracle and my inspiration.