Postpartum

"I can throw this away for you if you like," said the Walgreen's pharmacy tech. He was holding my empty bottle of Motrin in his hand. I'd taken one a day from that bottle since Danny was born. He was done using the label on the old bottle to fill my new prescription.

Little did he know the battle that was waging inside of me.

"Yes, that'll be great," I said, confidently. I had won again. I tried not to look too triumphant as I heard the bottle clunk in the trash underneath the counter.

When my babies are born, I have a borderline obsession with objects that were part of those first few days and weeks of life with them. Not just the first outfit they wore home from the hospital, but the plastic from their first package of diapers, or the mug they send home with me from my hospital stay. I don't know what my reasoning is. Something along the lines of being able to preserve their tenderness and innocence through clutter. I know I struggled with this when Grace was born and that if left unchecked it could hinder my progress in getting to and keeping a healthy state of mind as a new mom, so when we got home from the hospital this time, I took a garbage sack through the house at least once daily and threw away stuff. If it hurt to throw something away, I tried to step out of my emotions and look at it objectively. How happy are you going to be in three years that you saved the styrofoam cup you chewed ice chips from as you waited for labor to progress? If I couldn't provide a rational answer, it went in the garbage. I will admit, I hung on to the disposable cover to Danny's bilirubin bed for three days before it went in the trash. He'd punched out that cute hole with his arm! Some things must be allowed a little more time. :)

This is one facet of my personal experience with postpartum depression. I wondered to what extent I would experience it after Danny was born. I am thankful that it has been fairly mild this go round. It's interesting though, this experience at Walgreen's happened 45 minutes ago. I have step back and laugh a little that I really do have to think that hard about throwing away an empty prescription bottle. The fact that it's a decision at all tells me it's still lingering a little, but the way I win a little "battle" each day makes me so thankful that I am doing so well.

Here are some other facets to my whole postpartum experience.

I love my hospital experience. I am especially emotional after giving birth, and it makes me especially appreciative of the care that is shown to me by the nurses. It actually makes it really hard for me to go home. Not that I don't think I will be taken care of at home, but I become attached to my nurses. This time one of the nurses slid an envelope into the paperwork I was bringing home the evening we checked out. When I got home I opened it to find a card signed by all the nurses that had cared for me. It made me cry. Now it makes me smile. It did not go in the garbage.

For several days after giving birth, I have a heightened sense of how fragile mortality is. Danilo turned on Tarzan one night at home shortly after Grace was born, and I didn't tell him, but I got so upset inside and couldn't enjoy the rest movie when Tarzan's parents were killed by the cheetah in the beginning. I can (kind of) laugh at it now (having just experienced becoming a mother again), but I was truly, truly angry. 

The hardest part of the postpartum experience for me is an intense fear or anxiety that settles in and nearly paralyzes me. Fear of all kinds of things. Parent-killing cheetahs, Danilo making it safely home from work, and mostly over the responsibility of being a parent. Will I be able to do this as well as my parents did? I feel so broken and inadequate. This little person depends on me for everything. Will I be able to rise to the task and give them everything they need? I was comfortable with life before the baby and now I feel like my whole world has been thrown up in the air and come down scrambled. Will I ever experience normalcy again?

The night we brought Danny home from the hospital, he cried all night long. I wanted Danilo to sleep so we could have at least one alert parent the next day, so I made a bed on the floor in his room and tried to calm him from sun down to sun up. As I lay there, I had a wave of anxiety rush over me all night long. It was kind of uncomfortable and scary, but I just kind of let it do its thing.

Because this time I can say, hey, I have a three-year-old now and I felt this way when she was born too, but now she is mine and her daddy's whole world. It took several nights to figure out and adjust to life with her, but now it's impossible to imagine life without her.

Something else that has helped make my postpartum experience easier this time round is having Grace here with me. At a time when my emotions could cause me to take life and myself and this whole experience too seriously, Gracie provides comic relief. She laughs when he burps. She laughs when he spits up. She laughs when he goes cross-eyed. She laughs when he chooses to relieve himself when his diaper is off. It's a truly amused laugh. And it makes me laugh too. And while I laugh, I'm thankful that I'm not all by myself taking life too seriously.

Lastly, I taught a lesson a couple of months ago to the young women at church on the topic of grace. It changed my life. I have come to understand that after all we can do, God will bless us with a strengthening power (grace) that will make the seemingly difficult or impossible possible. So when postpartum panic starts to set in, I just remember my testimony of His grace and move forward. Sometimes the manifestations of His grace have been through my own daughter Grace, sometimes a text message from a friend, a priesthood blessing, or a clearer understanding of what I'm going through. These verses were part of my scripture study this morning and I loved them:

This I recall to my mind, therefore I have hope.
It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.
They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.
The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him.
Lamentations 3:21-24

Surely I am not the only one who has become attached to an empty package of newborn sized Pampers. If you have fun postpartum experiences too, I would love to hear about them. :)  

feeling good

My Son is Born!

We were originally given a due date of July 3rd for our baby boy. When I started visiting the doctor's office weekly during the last month, it was pretty clear with each visit that the baby was on his way. He scheduled an induction date for June 27th. I had things planned out nicely for how that day would go. Cynthia and her kids came in to town and I was glad they could help time pass and Grace was thrilled to have her cousins here. Grace had swimming lessons that would wrap up the week before. I would get a couple last things put together for the baby's room and get a pedicure. The Saturday before, Danilo's mom had a baby shower planned for us that she had put all kinds of time and effort into. After that shower, Danilo and I had tickets to an event in Sandy and we were going to make a date night out of it by going to dinner, too. Well, that Friday evening (before the baby shower), I started having fairly strong, fairly consistent contractions. Danilo and I were watching a movie. I didn't really know how to read contractions because my water had broken with Grace. I just didn't know how to know if I should go to the hospital. So Danilo and I prayed together, that we would be alert to know if we needed to get to the hospital. I decided to try to sleep, and if I was able to sleep, we would stay home. I slept really well through the night and the contractions subsided. The next morning I was getting some things done around the house and my contractions kicked up again, strong and consistent. Danilo told me to maybe go lie down. He liked the thought of a planned delivery on the following Thursday and I was really starting to make him nervous. I rested til it was time to go to the baby shower. Danilo and I mapped out a plan for in case I went into labor at the event in Sandy... we could make it to Intermountain Medical Center if I couldn't make it back. Talking like that, I started to think it might be a good idea to call off the date night. I decided to bring my hospital bag to the shower... just in case. As we sat there and guests started to trickle in, I joked with them that I thought I might be going in to labor. Mom sat next to me and we started to time them. They were consistently close together and started to hurt ever so slightly more. I started to wonder what I was waiting for. The shower was LOVELY, and if I had a sore throat or a headache, I would have just suffered through. But this was labor. I called Danilo who was in the house with his mom helping her and told him we needed to go. He rose to the task even though our nice Thursday delivery plan was falling apart.

decorations from the shower brought up to my hospital room; yes that is a baby face carved in cantaloupe! :)

 My mom and Hailey and a couple others snapped some pictures of Danilo and me running off from the shower to the hospital. I hugged and kissed my Gracie girl and told her we were pretty sure Dad and I were going to the hospital so I could have her baby brother and that she would be there after he came. We headed to the Emergency Room just like we had with Grace. We sat at a desk for 10 or 15 minutes to get checked in. They gave me a wristband and everything and then Danilo wheeled me off in a wheelchair. A nurse met me and gave me instructions to change into a gown and get in a bed where I would be hooked up to monitors and all. When you're causing all that fuss, you can't help but think, man, I'm really going to feel ridiculous if I didn't make the right call here.

last picture as a family of three!

But within 15 or 20 minutes, the nurse said they had talked to the doctor and he had told them to keep me. We were having a baby! When the nurse left the room after giving us that information, I asked Danilo to give me a blessing. He did and I don't remember all the words, but I gained calm and strength from it which I was very grateful for. Gracie's deliver was a pretty horrendous experience (she was worth it), and if this delivery registered even close to the pain and fear I felt during Gracie's delivery, our family was going to consist of two children. I was very thankful for the power of the priesthood and that blessing. I think one of the tender mercies that came from it was that the nurse who originally met me went home when her shift ended, and the nurse who saw me through the rest of labor and delivery {Natalie} was so wonderful. So with it. I really feel like when I told her what my worries and fears were, she internalized it all and did everything she could to reduce my anxiety and solve problems. The issue with Gracie's delivery was that my epidural wore off and it was too late by that time to do anything about it. So all the pain of labor and delivery came rushing in and I was not prepared mentally to deal with it. This time, I was given a might dose just as the doctor arrived to make no mistake that the epidural would work through the delivery. It did and giving birth was one of the sweetest experiences of my life as it was with Grace, but minus the trauma. I pushed four or five times and he was here! My initial reaction when I saw him was that he was definitely Grace's brother. There was a very strong resemblance between the two. Because my pain was under control, I was able to enjoy the next several minutes, Danilo cutting the umbilical cord, and the nurses and Danilo estimating his weight. He was 8 lbs. 5 oz. and 22 1/2 inches long. I was much more present with this delivery. I could enjoy the moment and not just cope with the pain. He arrived at 8:15 p.m. Dr. Bitner congratulated me with a hug. They gave him to me once they had cleaned him up and when I got to have him up close, I could see that while he looked like Grace, he was definitely his own person with his own features, his face shape was different, he has dimples. We called our parents to let them know he was here. I was anxious for Grace to meet her little brother. My family said she was getting emotional in the hall waiting to come in and meet him. Not a sad emotional, but an excited emotional. We'd been talking about this moment as a family for months, and it had finally arrived.

I love the pictures that were taken of the four of us in those few minutes after his birth. All our sisters and their husbands came as well as Andrew too. Everyone stayed probably til 10:00. Then they invited me to come to the nursery while Danilo bathed our son. I didn't know moms could do that. My legs didn't work from the epidural so a sweet nurse named Aimee pushed me around in a wheelchair. Grace and Nona watched outside the window. I think Grace didn't get to bed til midnight that night, but I am happy she was there. Danilo stayed that first night in my hospital room on a a hide-a-bed. I'm glad he was there. I had a really wonderful hospital stay. The nurses were so kind and attentive.

We had lots of family in and out the two days we were there including both sets of my grandparents. It was really nice. So... after months and months of debate, what did we name our sweet boy? Danilo Erich Collado. Danilo for obvious reasons. I think we will probably call him Danny most of the time to help with any confusing between father and son. Erich is the middle name of my Grandpa Achter's father.

He is the kind of person who gave most everything he had to be baptized a member of the Church. I have always admired him for his courage and faithfulness and it feels important to honor him this way. So... how do I explain how I feel about this little boy? He has completely won my heart. I have nervously anticipated becoming the mother of a son, feeling like I know quite a bit about raising girls and nothing about boys. But I am entirely smitten. I am so thankful for the powerfully sweet spirit he has brought with him and into our home and feel like Heaven is very near. I know the experience has been similarly meaningful for Danilo as well and Gracie loves and is so proud of her brother. I am so thankful for powerful, sweet, life-changing experiences like this. I pray for the strength and grace each day to be a good mom to my children and raise them in a way that is pleasing to my Heavenly Father.

I think I can blog now

I vacuumed the living room right before I took the tree down so I could take a picture... because I did not vacuum once in December... please...let me explain :)

I never checked in here the whole month of December except to quickly announce our baby news. The truth? For some people, pregnancy hormones are not only the perfect storm for morning sickness, but for a bout with depression. I am one of those people.

We found out shortly before the election that we were expecting a new baby (hooray!). When my dreams of having a President Romney were crushed, I expected to feel bad, but I didn’t expect it to drag on for weeks. I felt terribly gloomy. And nauseated. And I finally keyed in to the fact that perhaps my symptoms were not fully related to politics.

During my first pregnancy, I was teaching school, and the world, whether I could keep my breakfast down or not, had to keep turning. I decided to try for the same strategy this go round. I thrive on getting up early and getting things done. I feared morning sickness would keep me in bed all morning, and darned if I would let it. I scheduled all kinds of commitments in the morning that would require me to get out of bed and get moving.

I didn’t feel good for any of it. And the more I did, the worse I felt. Feeling that way day in and day out was wearing on my emotional well-being, which was already thin from the gloomy thoughts and feelings the depression was causing.  I realized one day when my sister was nursing me back to health on her couch with a plateful of chicken nuggets (I am eating like a mother bear at least every two hours) that something had to give. Many things had to give. I decided I could take on one major task each day. Major tasks = one trip to Wal-Mart, one trip to the grocery store, cleaning one bathroom, vacuuming one room, doing the laundry. ONE a day. For years I have exercised at 6 a.m. I bagged any form of exercise completely so I could sleep more (...and continued to eat like a mother bear through the holidays... I hope you get to experience that, guilt-free, at least once in your life!).

The sleep felt good. For the first time, lack of exercise felt good. The little energy I did have wasn’t spent at the gym. And resting throughout the day felt good, though it was hard to see my house kind of crumble in on me. I knew I was refraining from fully taking care of the house for a good reason. Grace and I got to read lots of books and watch lots of movies together.

Little by little as the morning sickness fades away, the depression is too. I saw our baby's face yesterday on ultra-sound, and it brought me so much JOY.

I wanted to include some tricks I use to battle depression when it comes calling. My hope is that some of this information can be helpful to someone else.  

-Knowing what you're dealing with is half the battle. Any battle with depression will never be as bad as the first when it was unfamiliar to you.

-Don't fight it. You will get even more discouraged in the process and it will still settle in anyway. Recognize it for what it is, and know it might stay for awhile. But also know you've beaten it before.

-Understand that the depressed you is not the real you. When you have irrational feelings and thoughts, instead of wondering if you're going insane, blame it on the hormones or lack of serotonin in your brain, and don't give them much more airtime than that. The sane, rational thoughts belong to you and they will dominate more and more as you do your best to just push through each day.

-Don't worry about what you might be losing because of your bout with depression (example: I'm having a baby, this is supposed to be a really happy time and I feel like this???) There is much to be gained from a bout of depression that will make you a better person. The losses will be made up in one way or another.

Each of these tricks represents a light-bulb moment I had in the midst of a bout of depression. Somehow I always think these tricks will be enough, that I won't get down and discouraged but be able to sail on through. While the tricks are essential in getting through, I always find I have another one to learn with each new bout of depression. Here's something I have gained from this time around:

I can choose to be happy in spite of depression (sounds kind of ironic, I know). I was really inspired by this article, and it helped me throughout the Christmas season. Depression kind of colors the way you see everything, but I made a deliberate effort, especially at times and events I was looking forward to, to enjoy them and be happy. I would think to myself, I know the way I'm feeling right now tells me I should feel really lousy tonight, but I've been looking forward to seeing these people, so tonight, I'm going to be happy.

Something I must relearn each time is to trust that whatever adversity I am experiencing is for my good. I sing its praises for all it has taught me, but depression is awful. It is difficult, demeaning, debilitating, causes you to severely doubt yourself and sucks life out of you and the things you enjoy. When you're looking at it in hindsight you think it probably wasn't quite so bad. But when you're in thick of it, you think, "Oh. I remember."

However, I recently read this quote by C.S. Lewis (I love his reasoning on God):

"The tortures occur. If they are unnecessary, then there is no God, or a bad one. If there is a good God, then these tortures are necessary, for no even moderately good Being could possibly inflict or permit them if they weren't."


P.S. These kinds of things run in my family... for a blog detailing my sister's experiences with anxiety, please visit this site.

7th Saturday of Seven

my sister, my dad, and me (5)

When I was five, I was at the park with my friend Cole and his mom. After playing happily for several minutes, I looked up and realized I couldn't find a familiar face. The park was huge. I started to panic and feared I would never find my friend or his mom and that I would never get back home. My parents had taught me that I could always pray to Heavenly Father and that He would hear and answer my prayers. I found a park bench, knelt down, and prayed for help.

I had hardly opened my eyes when the image of a yellow shirt burst into my mind. I gave it a moment's thought and realized, "That's RIGHT!" Cole's mom had been wearing a yellow shirt. I glanced over the whole park from where I stood and it didn't take me long to see a woman in a bright yellow shirt coming up over the hillside. I ran over, relieved, to join Cole's mom. I remember smiling thinking, she didn't even know I had been lost. But I had learned some very important things since I last saw her. I knew that God was real. I knew that He knew who I was, and that He had answered my prayer.

If I have learned one thing from reading the Old Testament, it is that things seem to work out for nations who choose to remember God, and those who don't are left to their own power.

I believe when we chose to remove God from our own lives or from our nation, it is to our own detriment. 

I have said that a vote should not be based on religion. If I have the choice of placing a God-fearing individual of any faith in the White House, and the rest of him checks out, too, I'm going to take it. And I'm going to sleep better at night knowing that the issues of this country are being brought before an all-knowing God.

I am voting for Mitt Romney because he is a God-fearing man. He has openly discussed his faith in God on the campaign trail, in debates and interviews. Here's what he said when Oprah asked him if God would be part of his decision-making process as president:

I believe deeply in the value of prayer, and I pray regularly and contemplate important issues. But I have to tell you a story about one of the leaders of our church, and that was Brigham Young. It is said that as he was leading the wagon train to the West, one of the wagons that was going through the North Platte River got caught by a current, and as it was beginning to be swept away, the person who was driving the wagon got on his knees to start to pray, and Brigham Young rode out into the river on his horse and grabbed the man by the back and said, "This is no time for prayer." So we're a very hands-on, get-the-job-done, take-personal-responsibility kind of people. But of course, in the meditation of prayer, I hope to seek the kind of guidance that comes from the Divine.

 I voted early on Thursday.

It's no secret that I am passionate about this campaign. As Paul Ryan has said, "I don't think I have seen a time in our nation's history where the man and the moment have met so perfectly. This man is a leader. Everything Mitt Romney has done in his life has prepared him to provide the kind of leadership we need."

If you haven't, please take a moment to look over the previous six Saturdays.

If you feel good about it, please help me increase my reach by sharing them through email, Facebook, and Pinterest.

1st Saturday of Seven

2nd Saturday of Seven

3rd Saturday of Seven

4th Saturday of Seven

5th Saturday of Seven

6th Saturday of Seven 

This link will take you to all seven posts at once:

Seven Saturdays

If you have 26 minutes, please watch Mitt Romney's closing argument to the American people. It will be worth your time.

And finally, it is in the ever so capable hands of He who "set all the borders of the earth," who "made the summer and the winter" (Psalms 74:17) that I leave this election, knowing He will remain constant no matter the outcome.

Making Peace With the Internet

I decided Sunday night when I was sitting at the front of a new week that I was going to make peace with the internet.

There is a lot I love about the internet. It connects us. It's useful and informational and entertaining.

We also know the internet has the potential to be destructive and a time-waster, and can suck the very joy out of our lives.

My biggest beef with the internet personally is when it keeps me from being productive. There are times when I close the laptop and think, I think I could've done a lot more with the last 45 minutes of my life than I just did, and I have nothing to show for it except being totally up-to-date on the trip a friend from high school took to Rome.

So several weeks ago, I made a deal with myself. My getting on the internet had a lot to do with checking to see if things had changed... checking my email, checking on my business, checking my Facebook... so I decided I could get on twice a day, once at 11 am and once at 5 pm to see what had changed in my little spots on the internet. It was somewhat effective. I got a lot accomplished before logging on.  But whoops, I needed to pull up the internet to follow that recipe I was making for dinner, and that couldn't wait til 5 pm. I needed to pull up the internet to transfer some money from checking to savings. I need to pull up the internet to see if the chair I'm watching on KSL has dropped in price. And part of me would say, "Oh, good, I'll get on really fast AND see if I have email," and the more disciplined part of me would say, "You will not, you will get on, get what you need, and get back off." This battle has been going on for awhile.

And sometimes when I had been really diligent at staying off the computer until my designated times, and then discovered not much had happened, like I hadn't gotten responses from the emails I was hoping to, it made me grumpier than I'd like to admit.

Darn, I knew the internet could have an affect on my mood, and I don't like the way it makes me feel when I allow it to. 

So this is what I decided Sunday night after a good day of church. I know Heavenly Father cares about (what seem like) the trivial matters of my life, and I prayed for help this week to use the internet better than I have been... and this is what I was able to come up with.

The internet is like a catalog and a recipe book and a phone directory and a newspaper and a bank and a mailbox and I might have to access it several times a day. But when I do, before I click on that link or press play on that YouTube video or even log in to Facebook at all :), I stop and think, is this going to bring me up or bring me down? I imagine an up and a down arrow sitting in the top corner of my laptop. Sometimes the answer is, down. I know that the real reason I want to search for new recipes for dessert is so that I can avoid vacuuming the house, and I know that I will feel better when the house is vacuumed than I will with six new pins on my Pinterest dessert board, and so I close the laptop and grab the vacuum. Sometimes the answer is, up, my sister is in New York this week and I want to know if she got my message or posted any new pictures. 

I'm happy to say that it's been working. And that's how I have made peace with the internet this week.

Nephi, Blogging, and a Bout with Depression

If you haven't ever met Nephi, I am thrilled that I get the chance to introduce you. Nephi is the first prophet whose story is told in the Book of Mormon, and he is physically and morally strong. He is the youngest of his brothers, but because the oldest two are hard-hearted and generally choose wickedness over what is right, the Lord chooses Nephi to be a ruler over them. The two books of Nephi are filled with stories of Nephi doing one noble and courageous thing after another... and I'm going to tell you about one of them.

Nephi has traveled several days into the wilderness with his family when his father tells him that the Lord has commanded Nephi to return to Jerusalem with his brothers to retrieve the brass plates from Laban. The brass plates contain the records of their ancestors. Nephi's answer is firm and resolute... he will go. After a few attempts at visiting Laban, it becomes very clear that Laban intends to kill Nephi and his brothers and to never hand over the brass plates. On what becomes his final attempt, Nephi approaches Laban's home and finds Laban drunk and collapsed on the ground. The Spirit constrains Nephi to kill Laban, and when Nephi hesitates, he is instructed that "it is better that one man should perish than that an entire nation should dwindle and perish in unbelief..." without the record. Nephi kills Laban, retrieves the plates and grants Laban's servant his freedom if he will join them on their journey to the promised land.

Nephi is righteous and firm and unwavering and inspiring. And as our Sunday School teacher pointed out last Sunday, he is also human, and he grants us a glimpse of that from time to time. The first time the brothers attempted to get the plates from Laban, they cast lots to see which one would go and make the request. The lot fell on Laman, the oldest. He leaves on the errand but returns empty-handed and tells his brothers that he had to flee because Laban threatened to kill him. And then the scriptures say, "...and we began to be exceedingly sorrowful." Reading between the lines, I see a young man trying to do his best. He has just completed a journey of several days through the wilderness back to Jerusalem with a couple of his brothers most likely murmuring most of the way. And when they try to do what they have been sent to do, their lives are threatened. I think for a time Nephi was at a loss for what to do, and I am so thankful he wrote that he was exceedingly sorrowful about it.
Because I want to be like Nephi. And there are times in my life when I am temporarily at a loss for what to do, and during those times I don't feel like I'm being like Nephi... until I saw this side of him. The important thing is to know the end of the story. We know that after his period of sorrow, however long or short it was, he rose to the occasion and with the help of the Lord accomplished with his brothers what they set out to do (read the whole story here).

Every so often I hear debates going on about the "best" way to blog, especially as women. I've read women wishing other women would be more honest and not present their life in such a picture-perfect light on their blog (have you seen this? It's written by a guy in his twenties to poke fun at mommy blogs, and it's stinking hysterical). I've also read the other end of the debate where people have discussed how it's possible to be too honest and share too many complaints regarding how unfairly life is treating you with whoever out there might be listening. I think there's value in both ends of the spectrum. When I see a picture of a beautifully decorated mantel or a spotless kitchen, it inspires me to make my home a more beautiful place. I am guilty of arranging things in a way so that I wouldn't be embarrassed to post a picture of it on the internet. On the other hand, I have been grateful when friends have opened up about a truly horrendous day at their house and how it made them feel, because it makes it easier for me to not take myself too seriously when I am dealing with a similar situation at a later time. What it all comes down to is that if you are blogging regularly, it must be satisfying, and you can blog about whatever you want to, whether you're at either extreme of the spectrum or somewhere in the middle.

I think Nephi (not a blogger, but still a writer) fell somewhere in the middle. He desired to record the events that showed how good the Lord had been to him and his family in the good times and the bad. He is always uplifting and inpsiring and encouraging. But sometimes he opens up and is extremely honest about how certain situations made him feel when appropriate, and that's when you read language like, "O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh...I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me" (2 Nephi 4:17-18).

I'd like to fall somewhere in the middle too. When I post something, I feel like I've made a small contribution to the world, and I want to make sure it's positive... so I try to share the very best of me. Somedays the best of me might include how I am coping with the worst of what is going on.

So I think that's why I want to confess to you that I just emerged from an episode with depression. It was the strongest it has been since this point in my life. I'm not even quite sure what caused it. I think my emotions were very close to the surface after experiencing such a wonderful Christmas that it left me open and vulnerable to an emotional crash.  I hid it well. I even had to confess to Danilo that it had happened tonight before I posted this for anyone else to read. I started to recognize it for what it was one night when I realized how excited I was to go to sleep because it would be a temporary escape from reality. If you have never felt the pangs of depression, I expect a statement like that to sound ludicrous to you. After all, I have a loving husband, and a precious daughter, a warm home and food to eat. I truly hope you never know why. Don't be alarmed though. I am armed with tricks and techniques to combat it that I didn't have the first time depression came knocking at my door. While I'm never excited when it rears its ugly head, I am thankful each time it has happened because I become more familiar with what it is and how to better cope the next time. There is a book called Living With a Black Dog: His Name is Depression that I found a lot of comfort in reading during the last stages of my first bout with depression. Anyway, the last page of the book has a picture of the man embracing the black dog. While it can be fearsome and horrific, I too have learned to love what my black dog has done for me in teaching me humility and compassion and a mountain of other lessons I treasure, as well as strengthening my relationship with God and His Son, Jesus Christ.

As I came out of my first episode with depression, which had lasted nine months, I emerged with a passion to extend hope to anyone who found themselves in that condition. If you are there, I want to tell you that I have been where you are, and there is a way out. Even for you.

September 11, 2011

Every year on September 11, I try to spend some time quietly remembering that day. The principal came over the intercom first period telling us that counselors would be on hand to help any students who were worried about parents or family members who may be involved with the tragedies going on back east. Being high school students, we all chalked it up to being no big deal. And then I walked into the classroom where I served as a teacher assistant. There I saw my teacher, a woman I loved and admired, with tears streaming down her face looking up at the television in horror.

Knowing this year would be the 10th anniversary of the tragedy, I yearned inside for some way to meaningfully observe it. I wasn't sure what I wanted. I knew it involved coming together with other Americans. I knew it involved remembering the people who were lost on what had started out as a beautiful and ordinary day. It involved remembering those who had acted so courageously so that less horror would be inflicted, and in many cases were lost that day as well. I knew it involved reflecting on the beauty that was revealed in the face of so much terror. I knew that it involved love of God and country and beautiful music. And I am thankful to Sandy City for providing the perfect platform this morning.

a balloon and a flag for every life lost
Thurl Bailey said it is comforting to know that those who fell, fell to a better place.
Then he sang "America the Beautiful" and "God Bless America" as the balloons floated into the heavens.

In What He Has Refused Me

Today I was thinking about some things I am really, really, really hoping for right now. That got me wondering what kind of person I would be if I had gotten everything I wanted when I wanted it.

If I had gotten to ride the carousel every time my mom and I went to Kmart when I was a little girl, it would have been expected and not special. Instead, I still remember how excited I was to drop the quarter into the machine when Mom said it was okay.


Same goes with getting gum or candy at the checkout line in the grocery store. Because it wasn't a given for every grocery store trip, I learned that I didn't get everything that I wanted, but the times when I did were more meaningful.


If my parents had agreed once I entered jr. high to spend their money on the most expensive jeans and shirts and shoes for me, I would have felt like hot stuff, but I might have not learned to look deeper than clothing. I might have chosen my friends based on their wardrobe choices and not how I felt when I was around them.


And again, the birthday when I opened up a brand new pair of Doc Martens wouldn't have been as exciting to me.

If I had married my first love, I might have been happy. I for sure would have missed out on some terribly painful heartbreak. But I never would have met and fallen in love with my Danilo, and I thank heaven on my knees that that's not the case.


If the hardships I have experienced had been lifted the first time I asked for them to be, I would have missed the opportunity to allow Heavenly Father to see me through to the end, letting Him show me that I can do hard things and that He was mindful of me through the entire process. He has taught me that this will always be the case, without exception, throughout my entire life.

This knowledge is carrying me through our job-hunting-house-building-roller-coaster of an experience.

“I have had prayers answered - most strangely so sometimes - but I think our heavenly Father's loving-kindness has been even more evident in what He has refused me.”
--Lewis Carroll

Cumpleaños Feliz Deseamos a Tí, Mami

Dilema and baby Danilo in his birthplace Italy, 1977

Hoy celebramos el cumpleaños de una mujer bien importante y especial en la vida de mi familia. Ella es la mamá de mi esposo, la nona de mi hija, y mi suegrita, una mujer llena de amor, de fortaleza, y que vive cada día para honrar su Padre Celestial.

El nombre de mi suegra es Dilema. Ella siempre se ríe un poco cuando habla de su nombre. “Porque mi mamá me nombró ‘problem’, yo no sé,” me dijo cuando hablamos por la primera vez acerca de este tema. Pero al pensar mucho de mi suegra Dilema esta semana en que ella cumple 60 años, llegué a una conclusión. Mi suegra ha enfrentado muchos pasos y dilemas muy difíciles en su vida. Mi suegrita y yo hemos pasado muchas horas sentadas en la mesa en la cocina y me ha contado poco a poco la historia de su vida. Muchas de las historias pasaron cuando ella fue una mamá soltera, haciendo lo mejor posible para sus hijos en Chile, en Miami, y diferentes partes de Utah. Ella me cuenta historias de aventura, de trabajo fuerte, y de pena. Aunque no tenían mucho, mi esposo y mis cuñadas siempre hablan de tiempos felices en su hogar. Mi suegra se enfrenta las partes difíciles de la vida con fe y una sonrisa, y cuando los tiempos son bastante difíciles que una sonrisa seria inapropiada, sigue solita con su fe. Eso es algo que yo conozco por mi propia experiencia, viendo la forma en que ella se cuida a mi suegrito, un buen hombre afectado mucho por el Parkinson’s disease.

Ha sido un placer llegar a ser la nuera de esta mujer y hacerle parte de mi vida y mi corazón. Yo puedo sentir su gran amor para mí cuando me abraza y cuando hablamos corazón a corazón. Fue muy linda ver la transformación que fue cuando nació Gracie y empezó a ser una abuelita por la primera vez. Me alegro mucho que podía ser parte de esa gran bendición.

¡Feliz cumpleaños Mami!

Today we are celebrating the birthday of someone very important and special in the life of my family. She is the mother of my husband, the “nona” of my daughter, and my sweet mother-in-law. A woman full of love, strength, and who lives every day to honor her Heavenly Father.

My mother-in-law’s name is Dilema. She always laughs a little when she talks about her name. “Why my mom named me ‘problem’, I don’t know!” she told me when we talked about it the very first time. But after thinking a lot about my mother-in-law Dilema as she turns 60 this week, I arrived at a conclusion. My mother-in-law has confronted many difficult times and dilemmas in her life. She and I have spent many hours at her kitchen table as she has told me little by little the story of her life. Many of the stories took place when she was a single mom doing the best she could for her children while they lived in Chile, Miami, and different parts of Utah. She tells me stories of adventure, of hard work, and of heartbreak. Even though they never had much as children, my husband and my sisters-in-law always talk of happy times in their home. My mother-in-law confronts the difficult times in life with faith and a smile, and when times are difficult enough that a smile would be inappropriate, she presses forward with her faith alone. This is something I know from my own experience, seeing the way in which she cares for my father-in-law, a good man affected greatly by Parkinson’s disease.

It has been a pleasure becoming the daughter-in-law of this woman and to make her part of my life and heart. I can feel her love for me when she embraces me and when we talk heart-to-heart.

It was really wonderful to see the transformation that took place when Gracie was born and she began at that moment to be a grandmother for the very first time. It made me happy to be apart of that blessing in her life.

Happy birthday Mami!