Remembering Elder Scott (an Apostle)

I heard yesterday that Elder Richard G. Scott of the quorum of the twelve apostles passed away. He was one of my favorite apostles, partly because I was able to meet him and spend about an hour of my life with him. That small window of time has been impressed upon my mind for the past seven years as a special moment in my life. Here is my journal entry from that day (edited mostly to enhance flow):

June 25, 2008

I worked the mission president's seminar at work (The Missionary Training Center Food Services). Many of the twelve apostles were there to teach the mission Presidents. I got there at lunchtime and I was told to go eat, rather than to start work. I grabbed a plate of food and was pointed to a room where I should sit. There were 13 of my co-workers and Richard G. Scott! There was only one empty seat and it was right next to him! . . .So I sat right next to him! He looks different in person. I didn't even recognize him at first! . . .I guess I'm not used to seeing any of the twelve apostles that close. Surprisingly, the thing that helped me to recognize him was his voice: so calm and mild and his words seemed so well thought out. I love his voice! And he was so personable! He joked, talked about his career as a nuclear engineer, asked us if and when we served missions, and what our majors were. Then, although he was our guest, he took our dishes back to the dish room. When he was coming back to the room, I was on my way out. We crossed paths and I was grinning from ear to ear as though I was in the presence of a celebrity ('cause I was! Church celebrities are the best kind!) He said "now that's a lovely smile!" He complimented me! (which was awfully nice, because I honestly was just grinning like an idiot) Then he shook my hand. He said something like "I enjoyed talking with you Courtney!" He remembered my name! Then he said "that was fun, wasn't it?" I agreed. The apostles must meet so many people! How easy it would be to treat and remember them as a group rather than as individuals, but he remembered my name. . .Heavenly Father surely knows me be name.

Something I didn't mention in my journal entry was the way he looked at me. I still remember that so well! He looked at me so intently and with so much love! He does a good job of that at general conference, speaking into the camera as he imagines all of his 'brothers and sisters' who he is speaking to. Surprisingly, this used to be something he struggled with! He mentioned in one of his talks that his wife once said the following to him:

“Rich, when you talk to people, look in their eyes. You look at the ceiling and the walls and the floor, but you never look in their eyes.” That suggestion profoundly changed my life. My precious companion loved me enough to help me by telling me what I needed to know. 

I think that is a neat little example of how someone's weakness became their strength! (Ether 12:27). I am going to miss that man! When I found out he passed away, I honestly felt like I lost someone I loved. But I am so glad that he gets to be with his dear wife again! Theirs is a beautiful love story that kept going long after her death more than 20 years ago. He is well known for his adoration for his wife, Jeanene. He spoke about her, it seemed, as often as he could. Here is one of the things he said at a BYU devotional that I attended, back in 2010: Please pardon me for speaking of my precious wife, Jeanene. But we are an eternal family. Although she is on the other side of the veil, that love and appreciation for each other continues to grow and mature. I am confident that when, in our future, I see her again beyond the veil, we will recognize that we are more deeply in love. We will appreciate each other even more, having spent this time separated by the veil. We have grown closer together through the kindness of the Lord (To Have Peace and Happiness, September 12, 2010).

So many of the things Elder Scott said have touched me, I wanted to share just a few of his quotes. I have emboldened the main theme of each of the quotes below:


Often we have difficulty mastering lessons the Lord wants us to learn when things are going too well in our lives. When there is suffering or pain, we ask ourselves a lot of questions. Some of them ought to be: What does the Lord want me to learn from this experience? What do I need to do? What do I need to change? Whom do I need to serve? Or what characteristic must I improve? Pondering and prayer will help us understand what we are to learn from the challenges we are asked to overcome. -Obtaining Help from the Lord October 1991

let us encourage every woman who questions her value to turn to her Heavenly Father and His glorified Son for a supernal confirmation of her immense individual worth. I testify that as each woman seeks it in faith and obedience, the Savior will continually prompt her through the Holy Ghost. That guidance will lead her to fulfillment, peace, and a consuming joy through magnifying her divinely appointed, sacred womanhood. I know the Savior will do that. -The Sanctity of Womanhood, April 2000 

Pray even when you have no desire to pray. Sometimes, like a child, you may misbehave and feel you cannot approach your Father with a problem. That is when you most need to pray. Never feel you are too unworthy to pray. -Using the Supernal Gift of Prayer, April 2007 

Select something like music, dance, sculpture, or poetry.Being creative will help you enjoy life. It engenders a spirit of gratitude. It develops latent talent, sharpens your capacity to reason, to act, and to find purpose in life. It dispels loneliness and heartache. It gives a renewal, a spark of enthusiasm, and zest for life. -Finding Joy in Life, April 2006 

Great power can come from memorizing scriptures. To memorize a scripture is to forge a new friendship. It is like discovering a new individual who can help in time of need, give inspiration and comfort, and be a source of motivation for needed change. . . .Scriptures can calm an agitated soul, giving peace, hope, and a restoration of confidence in one’s ability to overcome the challenges of life. They have potent power to heal emotional challenges when there is faith in the Savior. They can accelerate physical healing. -The power of scripture, October 2011

Don’t yield to Satan’s lie that you don’t have time to study the scriptures. Choose to take time to study them. Feasting on the word of God each day is more important than sleep, school, work, television shows, video games, or social media. You may need to reorganize your priorities to provide time for the study of the word of God. If so, do it! -Make the exercise of faith your first priority, October 2014 


I know that Richard G. Scott was called of God as one of his apostles in these days. I am so grateful for a living prophet and righteous leaders who help direct this church according to the will of a loving Father in Heaven--A God who does not leave us alone in this world, but continues to provide direction. I'm excited to hear the words of the prophet and apostles in General Conference in a couple of weeks! Elder Scott will be missed, along with Elder L. Tom Perry and Boyd K. Packer who also passed away this year. But they have left beautiful legacies of faith, love, and goodness, which I hope to emulate in some small way.

Looking Back: Leila's Birth Story

It's not uncommon to find a "baby bump" picture like this one on Facebook:

Then find a picture like this one the next day:

Both pictures just bubble over with new-parent pride and warm fuzzy family feelings--which is good! . . .It's just not the whole story. There's a lot that goes on behind the scenes between pic 1 and pic 2. This blog post will tell you (and show you) a little of what happens in between those two pictures. Disclaimer: This is a birth story. I feel like I kept it PG-13, but if you have a tendency to be the TMI police, this blog post might not be for you :)

My little girl whose birth story this is, is now 3 years old! How times flies! I have long regretted not writing her birth story, so when her little sister was born, I made sure to document that. But then I felt guilty that Heidi would have her birth story to look back on and Leila wouldn't! So three years later I have undertaken to recall the exhilarating day that we brought our first little girl into the world. I am amazed at how much I remember, though there are a few details that I'm not quite sure of. This post is for my Leila girl one day. If you read it too, that's wonderful! I love it when people read my writing! If you get all the way through. . .ten points for you! It's quite the post :)              

 *****

It was July 4th--the day I was hoping to give birth, preferably in the morning after a full night's rest. How ironic, I thought, for the Canadian to have her baby on America's national holiday. As it turned out, she would miss it by a day, but that's when the story began.

Not only did I not get a full night's rest, labor commenced after staying up too late for the 4th of July activities. We had tickets to The Stadium of Fire with my dear friend who introduced me to my husband. We watched Clay Atkins and The Beach Boys with my friend Jini and her boyfriend (future husband). Before that, we spent the afternoon playing games with my cousin's kids. We're too competitive at games. . .so competitive that we couldn't call it quits even when we knew we needed to leave if we were going to find parking. We stayed until the bitter end of the games, then sped off toward the BYU stadium. 

We knew the parking would be awful, so when we saw University Avenue lined with cars, we took that as a sign that there was no parking closer to the stadium. We parked and walked 1.5 miles. . . Keep in mind, this was only 12 days before my due date. I laughed as we walked. . .or should I say as Robby walked and I waddled. I laughed as I told Robby that some people purposely try to induce labor by going on long walks. Robby was unaware of this, but it would soon be etched into his memory.



We sang, danced and jumped around to Barbara-Ann and Kokamo, we had a great time! On the long walk back, I felt it. It was the weirdest feeling though, so I didn't quite know what was going on. I felt a tension that started at the end of my bulbous stomach, then snaked around toward my back. I wondered if I was having contractions, but not knowing what contractions felt like, I wasn't sure. I looked it up on my phone and it said that early contractions feel like menstrual cramps--starting in the front, and moving around toward the back. . .yep; that fit the bill. But they were kinda far apart and they weren't consistent. I knew I was supposed to wait until they were 5 minutes apart (if I was following the advice of my prenatal class) or 2-3 minutes apart (if I was following the advice of my OBGYN). Arg! I didn't like the idea of waiting. I know many women want to labor at home as much as they can before going to the hospital, even (and maybe especially) on their first babies. I'm not one of those women. I wanted to be in the hospital under the watchful care of trained professionals and with every monitor, instrument, and do-hickey at their disposal to prevent anything (hopefully) from going wrong. I also knew a girl who labored too long at home and gave birth in the car on the way. No thanks! So when we finally got home, around midnight, I sent Robby to bed while I packed my hospital bag. I used a contraction timing app to monitor my contractions. To my dismay, although they were getting closer together, they weren't getting close enough to be admitted. . .probably. BUT then a marvelous thing happened--I started bleeding! I knew from my prenatal class, that bleeding means "go to the hospital now"! I've never been so excited in my whole life to see blood! It was my "get. . .into jail free card"! I didn't have to wait for these silly contractions to get closer before the medical staff would take me seriously! Wahoo! I woke Robby up and off we went. We made a pre-planned stop at Sonic to get a chocolate banana milkshake.

Wincing/fake-smiling through an early contraction on the way to the hospital

Aside: I kept hearing that once you go into labor you should only have clear fluids like chicken broth, jello, popsicles etc. I thought "are you kidding me?! You want me to go through the most physically exhausting experience in my life with NO CALORIES IN ME?! ARE YOU NUTS?!?!? No wonder laboring woman are known to yell obscenities at their spouses and altogether act in ways that they might not be proud of later on! When I'm not pregnant I get "hangry" (hungry/angry if you didn't catch that), when I AM pregnant, I'm hangry on steroids because of hormones. And you expect me to burn 3000 calories/ hour while in hard labor on no food?! No dude! Those two don't jive." Since I was going to be involved in the kind of calorie burning that couldn't be rivaled by a week's worth of P90X, I decided to begin a quest to find the best food to eat before labor.

So one time while I was at a prenatal appointment, there was a student nurse shadowing the Doctor. I told them of my concern and the student said "let me tell you something off the record, this isn't what medical staff are supposed to advise, but when I had my baby I had a chocolate milkshake beforehand because it's packed full of calories and if you do end up throwing it up, it tastes just as good coming up as it did going down!" Ha! best medical advice of my life! So chocolate milkshake it was. . .with a banana thrown in for fun.

***OK. Stepping off soapbox***

We got to the hospital around 2AM and Robby grabbed a wheelchair for me while I was chowing down on the milkshake in the car. He wheeled me in and we were directed to labor and delivery. They checked me and I was only a 2. Lame. They kept me in triage for awhile to see if they would admit me or not. The first nurse we had was . . .not my favorite. She fastened the big belt around my belly so we could monitor the baby's heart beat and my contractions. As first time parents, Robby and I watched the monitor screen like our baby's life depended on it. Well, it kept losing her heart beat and that concerned us. . .obviously! So we pressed the call button and she came in asking what we needed. When we told her we were worried about the baby's heartbeat, she shrugged it off and said the baby was fine. That was it. No explanation of how she knew the baby was fine, just that she was. Hmmm. She left and it happened again. We hated to "bother" her, but we hated even worse the idea of there being something wrong with our baby, so we hit the call button again. When we told her the reason for our summoning her, she was visibly irritated. She touted that she was the nurse, she knows what's going on, we don't, and If there was anything wrong she would let us know. . .So we were grateful for the 6AM shift switch when we got a wonderful, attentive nurse who was patient and explained things well--we were so glad she was the one we actually delivered with.

Our second nurse asked me what my plans were for pain management. I told her that I wanted to do it naturally (that I was really hoping to not get an epidural). I also admitted that I was a wimp, so who was I kidding--I would likely end up getting one. (Although, what I wasn't considering at the time was the fact that I'm also stubborn/determined). She suggested I get the IV needle placed in my hand, just in case I opted for the epidural, then it would be quicker and easier to administer. That sounded reasonable to me, so we went for it. I walked around the halls of the hospital with Robby, hoping to get the contractions to come closer together. When a contraction hit, I would freeze in pain, lean up against the wall and just wait as I felt like The Incredible Hulk had his fist around my entire mid-section and was squeezing with all his might. OH THE PAIN! It was especially painful in the small of my back, so I had Robby rub my back until the contraction subsided. Back at our room I was trying to figure out ways to get labor moving. I heard in my prenatal class that a birthing ball can help. . .but I guess I hadn't paid attention to how you use it. I started bouncing up and down on it, and that felt about as unnatural as pineapple on pizza. After all, there was a baby in my pelvis, so that counter-pressure was weird/uncomfortable. I later learned you're supposed to roll around on it using a figure 8 pattern. Oh well! The nurse suggested I try holding onto the bar above the bed and let gravity do it's work, or lean over the bed when the head of the bed was raised, but who wants to do gymnastics while you're in excruciating pain?! I just wanted to curl up in a ball! So I just laid on my side on the bed.

Since I was having trouble dilating, my nurse suggested I do my best to relax. She said that when people are so tense, that seems to possibly prevent dilation. She noted that some women will not progress for hours, then they get an epidural and since that relaxes them, they almost immediately dilate. So, here it was, the biggest feat of self-mastery of my life--relax. . .during contractions. I asked her for some breathing and relaxation tips. Yep. I was in labor, planning on doing it naturally. . . and I didn't have a plan for how to cope with the pain. I blame it on this: I thought I would walk into my prenatal class like a new-mommy-sponge, hungry for knowledge on what to expect in labor, but when the instructor opened the class by saying "so, if you're looking for breathing and relaxation techniques, you're in the wrong class 'cause you won't be learning that here!" I could have taken her out! What was the point in us even being there?! That was the #1 thing I wanted to know! How is it they find it a priority to teach us how to bathe a baby and change her diaper, but you can't let me know how to handle getting something the size of a watermelon out of me without suffering from PTSD later? K. Maybe I'm spazzing a little. . .but REALLY? So I went home and looked up the class that I should have signed up for 2 months ago and there weren't going to be any more offered before my due date, at least not for me to complete all of the sessions. LAME. So fast forward a few months later and there I am trying to "relax" during contractions.



My sweet nurse suggested I take slow, deep breaths, then think of a relaxing place and picture being there. So I pictured a beach. I pretended the light in the corner of the room was the hot sun and I squinted my eyes so that I would just be able to see it a little bit. Then I dug my toes into the blanket and pretended I was wiggling them in the sand. I pictured the waves sweeping up and bathing my feet, and I pretended to hear the calming ocean noises I remembered my mom playing on audio-cassette for me as a child. But then Robby turned some music on using our laptop. I especially liked Paul Cardall, George Winston, and  I successfully breathed like this through every contraction for two hours. . .TWO HOURS! I was so super proud of myself and was beyond excited for the nurse to check how much I had dilated. She checked me and--nothing. My cervix hadn't budged. So much effort, so much pain, no reward. I let out the pent up emotion of the last couple hours and wept openly. Part of the difficulty of natural childbirth is not knowing how long you'll have to stay strong, how long you'll have to take a beating. Would it be 5 hours? 25 hours? 55? I didn't know how much longer I could take! Looking back, I'm a little surprised they didn't send me home, seeing as I didn't progress for so long! But maybe it was because my contractions were consistent and intense at that point. Whatever the case, I was glad they let me stay!

Finally they decided to break my water. The only medical personnel who was qualified and available to do so was a good-looking medical student about my age. Weird, right? Actually, no. Normally I would want to be a lot more modest around any adult, but at this point, I just wanted a baby out of me! After my water was broken I started progressing. Finally! Within a couple of hours I was at a 4 and made slow and steady progress after that. Robby was amazing in helping me to handle the contractions! He was likewise exhausted as he had been up since the morning before with just a short nap in between. So he would lay back in a chair in between contractions. When I felt the familiar tense feeling of a contraction creeping up, I would say "Robby! It's coming!" It was terrifying every time! Like looking in the rearview mirror and seeing a car speeding toward you that you knew was going to hit you! So as the pain of the contractions mounted, I could hear the terror in my voice becoming more and more apparent. Bless his heart, Robby helped me by letting me squeeze his hand, by encouraging me, and by rubbing my back. He was there for every contraction--well, almost every one :) One time, in between contractions, Robby actually fell dead asleep sitting upright in the chair across the room. When I yelled for him, it didn't snap him out of his deep sleep, I think I kept yelling if memory serves me right, and he finally jumped out of his chair near the end of the contraction. That's OK. I forgave him for that one :)

Robby digging into my back and my sweet nurse offering me flavored ice chips

The back labor started to get intense and Robby would dig his thumbs into my lower back (where the pain seemed to be stemming from). I would urge him to dig deeper as the pain could not be touched by a gentle spa-like massage. He would go a fraction harder, but it wasn't hard enough! "Harder! Pleeeease!" I would whine. He would ask "are you sure?! I'm going SO hard! I must be hurting you right now!" NO! I need you to dig harder!" I yelled. He would have to turn it up 8 notches to touch that pain. During one contraction, we were both so tired, I whispered in sheer exhaustion for him to push his thumbs in harder. But his sleep-deprived ears couldn't hear my withered tone, so he persisted with the same strength. That's when I yelled out as hard as I could "HARDER! ROBBY! HARDER!" Robby was taken aback. In our short 11 months of marriage, he had never heard me raise my voice at him.  The nurse later coached Robby on how to better help me--I would bend my knees and Robby would push my feet toward me. This jarred my back a little and helped release the pain somehow. I then figured out that if I just extended my legs out and had him push my feet toward me, that worked even better! But Robby was clearly wearing out! It was now past 8am, so it was a reasonable time to start calling people. First we called Robby's Mom, who would be our birth photographer. She called to get a substitute to take care of her class that day and headed over. A couple hours later we called my cousin who said that she would be happy to be my "Douala" if I needed help in labor. The fact that she had five children naturally made her a worthy candidate (not to mention she has been there for me countless times as a shoulder to cry on when I was in the dating scene!) But one of her children answered the phone and she wasn't at home, so we left a message and Robby had to hold it together as my coach for a little longer.

I felt like I had been beat to a pulp and every time a contraction would come, I would scream/cry like a Prisoner of War pleading to his torturers for mercy. Sounds dramatic? It was! And it was embarassing! So I told Robby that when his Mom came, I didn't want her to be in there during my contractions. Well, unbeknownst to me, she had quietly sneaked in like a fly on a wall and was sitting in a chair watching the whole adventure take place. So Robby just looked at me with a wide-eyed stare as if to say "uuum. . . she's already here". But of course she didn't judge me at all for sounding like an emotional teenage lunatic, rather her eyes welled up with tears for all the pain that I was going through to bring her first little grand baby into the world.

I don't really remember this part. . . .I guess I was on oxygen.

The contractions were getting closer and closer. There didn't seem to be a break between them. I was in the "transition" period of labor. The pain was absolutely tormenting. I thought "I have to get an epidural, this is beyond any kind of pain I can imagine! I am crazy for having gone this long without drugs!!!! I can't handle this! . . .but I can handle it for one more minute." Then a minute later, I basically gave myself the same pity party/ pep talk and held my ground for sixty more pain-staking seconds. Honestly though, if anyone had asked me at that point if I wanted an epidural, especially if it was couched in terms like "you look like you are in so much pain, you have already put in a great effort, how about an epidural?" I would have probably taken it!

I was pretty steamed when, an hour later, my cousin still hadn't called me back, so we called again. She picked up and we found out that the message hadn't been relayed. I couldn't help but thinking "c'mon kid! of all the times to not pass on a message?!" Anyway, she bolted over there lightening fast! Robby and her each took a leg and pushed it toward me to help alleviate some of my back labor. Then she had me slump my body over hers so that I would be in an upright position to let gravity bring the baby down more. Also, with my body right against her back, she could feel me tense up when I had a contraction. She then coached me through it and encouraged me to relax my body--telling me to loosen one body part at a time. She was AMAZING! Such a savior to Robby, me, and our soon to arrive baby.

Then I started having the urge to push, but it was too early. I think I was only dilated to an 8. The nurses and my cousin (who could feel my body tense up as I pushed) kept saying "No! Don't push yet!" But this baby was practically head butting my bowels! I couldn't help but push! They warned me that if I kept pushing before I was fully dilated, my cervix could swell up, I could be less dilated than I was before, and I would have to wait until the swelling went down to be able to push again. That freaked me out! I didn't want to regress in labor! No way! But my body would start pushing, despite my attempts to control it, so I would ask the nurses to check me again to make sure I hadn't swollen. I ended up asking them to check me every five or ten minutes because I was so nervous about delaying delivery by another few hours! Thankfully I wasn't swelling up, and I got to a 9. They finally called Dr. Savage in. She swooped in just at the right moment (I think she has a super power of knowing when that baby is really going to come). She told me how to push, when to push, and when to stop. When she told me to push hard, I was happy to be given permission! I pushed with every ounce of strength left in my body. I didn't care if it hurt! After 13 hours since my first contractions hit, I wanted to be done! Despite my expectations, pushing was actually a breeze! Less than ten minutes after Dr. Savage arrived, I heard my baby's cry for the first time!

A baby?! oh yes! A baby! There was a light at the end of this tunnel! I had practically forgotten! In all the pain and anguish I had almost lost sight of what it was all for! The pain was a means to an end! A beautiful end! They quickly sucked her nose and throat out and placed her warm, slimy body on my chest. Wow! This was mine? Ours? A combination of me and the love of my life? . . .Wow! She has ten fingers. . .she has ten toes. . .her black eyes peeping at us between screams, indicated that they work. . . her lungs definitely work! How can she be so perfect? I was breathless! This little creature that has been part of me these last nine months; I had felt her kicking and squirming in my belly for months, but to see and hear. . .and touch her?! We were just in awe at the miracle before us. We cried. I had always anticipated having to restrain myself from accidentally smothering my baby when I saw him or her for the first time--I pictured myself just wrapping my brand new baby in my arms and squeezing it tight, as though I was physically transferring all of my hopes and dreams of being a mom into this tiny little package. But that's not what happened! I was just so blown away by this miracle before me, I didn't even touch her at first, I just cried with joy.

Our sweet Leila Marie was 7 lb. 4 oz. 21 inches long. She passed her APGAR score first with a 9, then a couple minutes later with a 10. She was beautiful! She was perfect! She has been an irreplaceable member of our family ever since.

That's us, bawling over seeing our baby for the first time. Yep. I'm not a pretty cryer. . .oh well :) Can you see her little purple hand past my knee? 

Having a baby without pain medication gave me a new perspective. It's not something I could have done on my own. I had the help of my husband, my cousin, a doctor, nurses, as well as the loving support of my Mother-in-law. Heavenly Father gave these people (and many others in my life) to help me overcome trials. Being able to endure the most unthinkable pain really brought truth to the scriptures: "With (wo)men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible." (Matthew 19:26) and "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me" (Philipians 4:13).

I know. I look like I got run over by a truck.

Here's me after having gotten some of my strength back, and starting to look a little more photogenic.

Another quote I like: “I know that you can do and accomplish and become what you want, if you really want to do it. If you put your mind to it and do it in an intelligent, thoughtful, prayerful way, the Lord will magnify you and the Lord will bless you and the Lord will answer your prayers and you will be able to do things far beyond your present ability.” -David B. Haight

I am also in awe of my Savior who suffered the most unthinkable pain (D&C 19:18) not only for my labor pains, but every pain, sickness, affliction, and sin in my life (Alma 7:11-13). I am grateful and eternally indebted for what he has done for me. I also feel like I gained some insight into what our Heavenly Father knows we are capable of. This experience makes me brace a little for the future at the thought of all that I will be asked to pass through. You often hear that God won't give you more than you can handle, and apparently, with the help of our Savior, we can handle a lot! He is willing to give us a lot of pain and heartache in this life, but we shouldn't lose sight of the purpose! There is a reason for the pain and there is a light at the end of the tunnel! We were sent here to this earth to be tested and to prove ourselves before returning to God's presence. If we cling to the Lord and his commandments, our reward will be beautiful and awe-inspiring, perhaps so wondrous that, just as I did with my newborn, we will pause for a moment as we take in all that Heavenly Father has in store for us!

Grandma Parker with her first Grand-baby

Robby in the nursery with Leila, family looking on

Our AMAZING Doctor! I couldn't imagine delivering with anyone else!

Robby's sister was a personal care assistant at the hospital,
so she got to give Leila her first bath!

And look after us the next day!

My cousin getting me ready to be photographed for the Facebook shot

There you have it--this is my "I just had a baby, it's no big deal" shot. . .but now you know the story behind it.

Potty Training: Two Steps Forward and One Step Back (The Airplane Blowout)

The day had started well! We had packed the night before and only needed to gather a few last minute things like toothbrushes and makeup. We had selected a great time for our flight to Victoria so that we didn't have to rush. On top of that, we were actually leaving the house looking pretty clean, so we could even look forward to returning home! I was walking around our apartment with a little extra bounce in my step. "Family vacation hasn't gone this smoothly since. . .well. . .I don't think it's ever gone this smoothly" I thought. I smiled as I remembered the flat tire we got on the way back from California and ended up sleeping in the car between semi's at a rest stop in Nevada because we couldn't find a hotel. . .that we were willing to pay for. Or the time that we woke up late, were out of gas and had to find a gas station which turned out to be way off the beaten path, ran through the airport as our names were being paged over the intercom, making it to our gate as they were closing it, relieved that the TSA employee who found a butter knife in Robby's backpack let us through. . . But this vacation was going to go great because we were off to a nice start!

Here are the girls the day before we left for vacation

Robby's mom dropped us off at the airport and we leisurely walked in, knowing we had plenty of time. I handed Leila a muffin to fill her tummy and keep her occupied. After Robby had checked himself and Leila in at the kiosk, my "perfect-vacation-bubble" popped--Leila vomited all over her shirt, pants, and the stroller! Luckily we had our luggage still, so Robby whisked the Leila-stroller package off to the bathroom, changed, her rinsed the umbrella stroller in the sink, threw out the pants that were too small for her anyway, bagged the pukey shirt and returned to my side as I was checking our bags. OK, a minor hiccup on the outset of our trip, but we glided through that just fine! This was going to be a good day still! We made it to our layover airport in Seattle, a little tired of occupying two busy girls, but nothing unusual for a day in the life of a parent.

After having some trouble finding our new gate, Leila said she had pooped in her diaper. I asked Robby to take Leila to the bathroom and change her diaper. He went into the men's bathroom, but there was no changing table (what is up with that by the way?) So he looked all over for a family bathroom. When that was fruitless, he settled on changing her diaper on the counter in the men's bathroom. A little flustered by now, he opened her diaper to find. . . no poop. He returned feeling spent. I, not picking up on this and learning of her poop-free diaper, asked Robby if he would take her to the potty so she could go poop before our next flight.

Aside: As an update on the potty-training adventure, Leila had been doing awesome--keeping her pull-up clean all day except for when she napped or slept at night. And even then, she sometimes woke up "clean and dry".

Since this picture, she has learned how to
wear underwear correctly :)

Robby brought her to the toilet, not at all thrilled by this point.
"OK. Go potty." This came off as too much of a command for Leila as this little threenager doesn't take orders from anybody!
"No!" she resisted.
"Well, if you don't try now, you're not going to get to go on the plane. It's now or not at all!"
"That's OK! I don't need to go" she said.
"Alright! If you need to go on the plane you'll just have to go in your pull-up!"
Leila agreed and they came back to the gate to await our plane's arrival.

It was a small plane--about the size of a greyhound bus--two seats on either side of the aisle. As fate would have it, I ended up sitting next to Leila. Robby sat with Heidi on the other side of the aisle. We were seated smack dab in the middle of the plane--perfect--not too close to the stinky bathroom at the front, not so close to the back that we'll be the last off the plane! It wasn't long after we sat down that Leila insisted that she needed to go potty--of course.

"Nope. She's not going potty. She agreed that if she didn't go potty before she would just have to go in her pull-up. She said that was fine. She's not going potty" Robby insisted.
I stared at him hard. I understand following through, but the urge to go potty sometimes comes later than sooner. . .but I could tell he was resolute, so I backed him up.
"No Leila, you didn't go potty before. It's too late."
"But it's poop! I have to go poop!"
I turned to Robby to see if that new snippet of information would help him to let up. Nope.
"Sorry Leila. You'll just have to go in your pull-up. Your pull-up will catch it."
. . .or would it?. . .
Leila started to cry. The plane hasn't even left yet; It would be so much easier to take her to the potty. But my husband and I are a united front, so there we stayed. The plane took off and the poor girl was upset.
"It's coming out!"
I tried to comfort her, but it was in vain since I wouldn't be helping to relieve her discomfort.
"She had pooped in her diaper a thousand times before. I guess it wouldn't hurt if it was one more time?" I thought, trying to reason with myself.
"It's coming OOOOOUT!" she said, more loudly this time and with more anxiety in her voice.
"I know honey. . ."
"Noooo!" She cut me off. "It's coming out of my DIIIIIAPER!!!" she shrieked.
OH NO! I lifted her shirt.
"It's all over my shirt!" It sure was! liquid poop oozing out all over her pants and pouring onto the leather seat.
"Oooh! I'm sorry honey! It's OK!" I told her.
I threw a glare at Robby.

I scrambled and found the wipes in my diaper bag. I swept up the stinky mess with a wipe. The stench was surely filling the small plane from front to back. Maybe our centrally located seating arrangement wasn't so ideal after all. After scooping up the mess, I laid the wipes on the inside of a clean diaper so I could wrap it up when I was through. To what end was I wiping this up, I didn't know. There was still a poopy mess that couldn't be remedied without a washing machine and a shower, but I had to so something. Leila just cried and clung to my legs, burying her head in my lap. Within minutes, she fell asleep. There was mess, there was stink, but now there was relative calm with her passed out. That was Heidi's cue. Our plane started descending and she started to scream. Her ears must be popping! My plan had been to nurse her as we descended (the best way to help a baby who's ears are popping, because it encourages them to swallow). But now my hands were disgusting! I couldn't hold that girl! I definitely didn't want to pass the germs on to my baby. Irritated at the spot I found myself in, I turned my back to Robby as if to say "this is the mess you get to deal with!"

The flight ended and all the over-stimulated passengers vacated the airplane. We avoided eye contact with them and remained until the last passenger had left. Robby told a flight attendant that we had a poop accident. Bless her heart, you would have thought he had said we had dropped some pretzels with how calmly she reacted. "No problem! We'll send someone to clean it up!" Her calm reaction made me less anxious. Then a male employee entered the plane. The flight attendant asked him to call for a clean up.
"What kind of a clean up?" he asked, looking puzzled.
"poop" she said matter-of-factly.
"POOP?! You mean like. . .POOP?! What, is it like, SMEARED all over the seat or something?!"
--Two strikes for males in the poop department today--
She calmly explained the incident and brought out some sanitary wipes and Delta imprinted grocery bags to help out.
We woke Leila up to an empty plane, stripped her down completely and wiped her off. We put her poopy clothes in a bag to bring with us and wash. . .which we accidentally left on the plane. This time we didn't have a change of clothes for her so after putting a new pull-up on her, she donned Robby's purple hoody.  It went clear down to her ankles.

She looked like a hobo child. I know, because that's what a stranger said as we were walking through the Victoria airport.

Leila had diarrhea for the first few days of our vacation. That mixed with the with the changes in setting and schedule that vacations inevitably present, Leila was set back a couple of weeks on potty-training. We got back two weeks ago yesterday and we're just now getting back to the stage we were at before we left--she's doing great! And I'm glad to say that adventure in potty training is over. . .and at least we got to return to home to a clean apartment :)

This was the flight home. #Both kids sleeping. #Dream come true. #God's tender mercies.

Potty Training: 2 Steps Forward

Being that my naive mind had presupposed and determined that Leila would be potty trained by 2 1/2, you can imagine that I felt a little uneasy as her 3rd birthday loomed closer. And not only was she not potty-trained, she would say something that I had heard other precocious toddlers announce. She had said something that I had rolled my eyes at and judged mothers for and for which I am now eating karma pie. She had repeatedly declared "Mom! I'm poopy! Can you change my diaper please?" (. . .at least she used manners right?!) Or worse: "Mom! Guess what?! I'm POOPING right NOW! Ha ha ha ha ha!" Yep! She was mocking me! I was sure. I was THAT kid's mother!

I knew this little girl was aware of her physical functions, but why was she so attached to her diaper? One time I was giving her a bath and she got a nervous look on her face. "oh! oh! oh! I gotta go pee!" she said anxiously.
"oh great!" I thought, "she's telling me when she needs to go potty! This is progress". But my excitement was premature. "I'll put you on the potty. . ."
"No!" I was cut off by my resolute toddler.
"Why not?!" I implored, "it's RIGHT here!"
"No! In my diaper! Get my diaper on! I just wanna pee in my diaper!".
I tried to reason with her, but two-year-olds and reason go together about as well as oil and water, right? So eventually I succumbed and just put the diaper on. The very second the last tab was secured, the flood gates opened and that diaper immediately expanded to full capacity. So I was just left muttering under my breath as I sauntered off to grab yet another fresh diaper.

 On the bright side, this and other similar experiences, were evidence that she could "hold it" really well. . . just maybe too well! In light of that, I ended up making up some new lyrics to a catchy little song you might know. It's called "Let it go".

Let it Go
Let it go, let it go, can't hold it anymore
Let it go, let it go, when I walk through the bathroom door
Here I'll sit, and here I'll stay, 'til the pee comes out
I don't need a diaper anyway!

Rightly or wrongly I had tried (in vain of course) to get her to want to be potty trained: "You're a big girl, big girls don't go in diapers", "it's so much cleaner when you go on the potty", and "it doesn't stick to you if you go on the potty". A friend of mine had read a potty training book of some kind and said you are supposed to treat it with disgust so that they are grossed out by using a diaper. I tried that: "Ewww! Changing your poopy diaper is really gross!"

Then, on a day when I felt a little more patient with the whole potty training business, I made a statement that incidentally got the ball rolling: "You know what?! Your best friend was potty-trained at the age of 3!" To which she momentarily stared off in the distance, then met my gaze and said "I'm gonna go on the potty when I'm 3!" This was a couple months before the big birthday arrived. So to my chagrin, every time I suggested she try to go potty she responded "nope! I'm gonna go potty when I'm 3!" So of course I awaited her birthday with anxious anticipation. The day came and I had an enormous box of pull-ups all ready to go. Then I resorted to techniques found in a book my friend, Caitlin suggested: 

Potty Training 1-2-3: What Works, How it Works, Why it Works by Gary and Anne Marie Ezzo (FYI Gary Ezzo wrote Baby Wise--you may have heard of it?)

Instead of trying to persuade your child to "go" on the potty from the outset, the focus is initially on staying clean and dry. Mom uses a baby doll to show the child that he or she is supposed to be clean and dry. Both dolly and child get candy if they're clean and dry and they get two treats if either dolly or child go on the potty.

Hiding candy and dollar store toys in 

eggs made the reward process more fun.

Here's how it worked for us: Day 1
I showed Leila the baby doll and introduced the concept of clean and dry. We set a timer and every 15 minutes I would ask "is the baby clean and dry? Are you clean and dry?" (She got way too much candy that day!)

Day 2
The second day we didn't really need the dolly anymore--Leila got the concept. Instead, we focused on whether or not Leila was clean and dry. Leila sat on her princess potty and went a couple times.

Day 3
We tried the real potty (AKA toilet). She sat on the toilet and I walked into her bedroom to put something away. As I walked back, I said "did you go potty?" to which she answered in the most discouraged yet sincere voice "nooo. . .I didn't. . .I'm sorry!" I assured the poor sweet thing that it was OK! She didn't have to be sorry! I assured her that she was doing great just by trying, and she would figure it out eventually! That turned a switch on in her head--one that lit up her face and seemed to give her confidence; because once I gave her that permission to "fail" or rather, communicated that not peeing wasn't a total fail, she relaxed and things happened so much more smoothly! She peed! And after that, I no longer needed to give her candy for being clean and dry --only for when she went pee on the potty.

Day 4
Another cool thing happened! I was super impressed with her--she would stop watching songs on the computer (our typical ritual for while I'm taking a shower) so that she could run to the bathroom and go pee! I wasn't even having to ask as much--she was saying "momma! I want to go pee!"
She went six times that day!

Leila, happily sitting on her princess potty!

Day 16
She went poop on the potty!!! Hooray! We celebrated of course! Leila knew exactly how she wanted to celebrate--"I want to go to the car cart store (Macey's) and I want to sit in the car cart until we get me some chocolate ice cream and then I want to sit at the tables" We had a lot of fun eating our ice cream cones and trading cones every lick! I'd share a pic, but I forgot my phone at home--and all for the better, I just got to thoroughly enjoy our little date :)

She got more brave and started going at public restrooms. Leila even kept her pull-up clean and dry through all 2 hours of nursery, then went potty after that! Every once in a while she will just run to the bathroom by herself and go from A to Z without any help! Not bad right?! I'm proud of this little girl!

Now let me tell you that just because we had some success doesn't mean this is going to work for everyone. Every kid is different, every parent is different and for all I know it might just have worked because the ninth try (with potty training my strong-willed child) is a charm. So . . .if you're thinking that pulling your eyeballs out would be preferable to the adventures of potty training, just hold on for that ninth attempt :) --see more about our potty training misadventures here.

And if you think we rode off into the sunset of panty land after this. . .oh! Just wait for the sequel. . .my next blog post will be titled something like "Potty Training: Two Steps Forward and One Step Back (the airplane blowout)."

Four Years, A Family of Four, and Our Four Goals

A couple days ago was our anniversary! Hooray! 

And as I mentioned in my last post, it's been amazing ( and surprisingly so)!! I'm living the dream being married to a man this good! So sometimes I sit back and think. . .what has made our marriage this good? 

The top 3 reasons why I think our marriage works so well:

1) Having the gospel of Jesus Christ in our lives and striving to live by its principles.

2) Key personality traits and communication patterns that my husband brought into our marriage and is teaching me by his example.

3) Four goals we set on our honeymoon that bring us closer to each other and to the Lord.

Some other time I would like to expand on the first two, but for right now I'm going to delve into the four goals we've been striving for over the past four years.

No, this isn't a hidden pregnancy announcement. This is us when
I was pregnant with Heidi :)

On our honeymoon, we went out for dinner one night. My brand new husband had brought along his notebook and promptly pulled it out after we were seated. With his typical boyish glow in his eye he said "I think we should set some goals together!" I thought he was cute (and that it was a good idea), so we did. 

We talked about how our relationship was important to us and that we wanted to keep it that way. We also wanted to qualify for Heavenly Father's blessings. So the foundation was laid and the goals fell into place. They are simple, but "by small and simple things are great things brought to pass" (Alma 37:6).

1. Go on weekly dates. My husband brought this up and I thought it was a great idea, but I suggested that we define a date. I said " I can just see me in a few years, a couple of kids later. We're sitting in front of the TV, maybe on the same couch, watching a movie for our date and I'm. . .folding mountains of laundry" (why not double-task, right?). 

So to prevent that, I suggested the rule that our date has to be out of the house. Also, if we go on a double date, that doesn't count as our date, because we wouldn't really be dating each other, we would be dating (strengthening our relationship with) the other couple. So double dates are OK. . . but we also need a date for just us that week. Another rule is that it's not much of a date when the kids are with us, so most of our dates have to be without the kids (and we probably only bring them with us once every two or three months, so I feel alright about that.) We've had dates every week of our marriage so far; and I tell ya what, when life gets hard with the kids, I look forward to those dates like Christmas!

A selfie from a date (on our anniversary!)

"Many couples permit their marriages to become stale and their love to grow cold like old bread or worn-out jokes or cold gravy. These people will do well to reevaluate, to renew their courting, to express their affection, to acknowledge kindness, and to increase their consideration so their marriage again can become beautiful, sweet, and growing. . . .[R]eal, lasting happiness is possible, and marriage can be more an exultant ecstasy than the human mind can conceive." -Spencer W. Kimball

2.  Attend the temple three times per month. My husband and I aimed for a temple wedding, but it wasn't just because we wanted our wedding pictures outside of a beautiful building--we wanted our family to be together forever! To have such a blessing though, it takes more than just exchanging wedding vows, it's a life-long process of keeping our temple covenants. By attending the temple often, we can remember the covenants we made there. 

We decided to set a goal to each go to the temple three times per month. I remember being a young teenager and sitting with my family on the pew at church. A high councilman was speaking that Sunday and for some reason, what he said has never left me. He told the congregation that too many of us aren't going to the temple often enough because couples are waiting until it's convenient to go as a couple. . .and that time never comes (or it rarely comes). As nice as it is to go as a couple, the priority is to remember (and in effect, renew) those precious covenants and to do work for our dead. With that in mind, there are many months that my husband and I don't get to go together as a couple, instead we go six separate times. The blessings are still evident!

Going this often has been tricky at times, especially on months where we've had a baby, but we've only fallen short one month!

"Frequent participation in temple service and regular family scripture study nourish a marriage and strengthen faith within a family."
-Russell M Nelson

3. Read a chapter of The Book of Mormon together every day. When we married, the man who performed the ceremony (the sealer) talked about the sacredness of temple marriage and gave us some marriage advice. One of the things he said was that reading a chapter of The Book of Mormon together every day would strengthen our marriage. We have done that and have recently finished our sixth time through! Our 3-year-old has joined with us now and will repeat phrases after we read them until she finishes a verse or two. This can be a little wild with a toddler and a baby and it's not always super spiritual, but I feel like the Lord is pleased with our efforts. We have missed maybe 3 or 4 times simply from forgetting--oops!

“I feel certain that if, in our homes, parents will read from the Book of Mormon prayerfully and regularly, both by themselves and with their children, the spirit of that great book will come to permeate our homes and all who dwell therein. The spirit of reverence will increase; mutual respect and consideration for each other will grow. The spirit of contention will depart. Parents will counsel their children in greater love and wisdom. Children will be more responsive and submissive to the counsel of their parents. Righteousness will increase. Faith, hope, and charity—the pure love of Christ—will abound in our homes and lives, bringing in their wake peace, joy, and hapBenson. Ezra T. Benson

Our Family of Four

4. Pray as a couple together every night. This is another item that our sealer recommended to us in the temple. This helps to bring the Spirit and unites us as a couple. I love hearing my husband thank Heavenly Father for me--it gives me warm fuzzies :) I also love praying for specific things for him--to express my appreciation or ask for special blessings for him.

"I know of no single activity that has more potential for unifying our families and bringing more love and divine direction into our homes than consistent, fervent family prayer." -John H Groberg

These are four goals that have blessed our family. What goals have you set in your relationships?

Four Years Down. . .and Marriage DOESN'T Suck!!!

Tomorrow is our fourth wedding anniversary! It's been a wonderful four years! In fact, it seems too good to be true!

How could marriage be this good?!  In all honesty, I was kinda bracing myself for marriage! I had heard how hard marriage was, I had seen the statistics in my major in college (Marriage and Family) and I had seen my parents marriage fail, so I mentally prepared myself for heated arguments followed by silent treatments, and crying myself to sleep. My vision of marriage came up while we were engaged--we talked about when we wanted to start having a family. He suggested we shoot for a honeymoon baby, with the justification of "why not?!"

I may have given him an earful at that point!

Why not?! Well, because marriage was going to be hard! It was going to be work! We were going to have to fight, because that's what two people do who come from different families and have different life experiences and upbringing. We were going to have to beat the kinks out of marriage before we add another kink to the rope! It was ironic that Robby was suggesting a honeymoon baby seeing as my Dad's one piece of marriage advice when Robby asked my dad if he could marry me was "don't have kids too early". . .There had to be a reason for that. I thought I was giving Robby an education in newlywedness "Robby, don't you know?. . .marriage is gonna kinda suck at first!" And Robby just responded ". . .OK" (more to say "well if that's how you feel about it" and not to say "thank you for bestowing your wealth of wisdom"). Honestly, I'm pretty lucky he married me after that! With an attitude like that, it could have become a self-fulfilled prophecy! Another thing I was preparing myself for was finding out who Robby really was after we got married, but at the same time I felt like he was super authentic, so I hoped it wouldn't be too bad. I was super blessed because low and behold

Robby was the real deal and . . .Marriage DIDN'T suck!

 Wheeeew! I'm sure glad I was wrong about it all! As wrong as I could be in fact! Robby was just as amazing as he seemed to be--kind, PATIENT, optimistic, righteous and the list goes on. Me on the other hand? I don't know what can prepare a man for an emotional female :) Maybe having five sisters?! ;) But with his optimism, he handles it like a champ! So after two months of marriage, I realized that marriage was wonderful and that probably wasn't going to change. That was nice. . .except, then I didn't have a reason to not have children. So we had one by our first anniversary :)

So what is marriage like really? I live with my best friend! I'm married to my eternal boyfriend, a man I look forward to going on vacations with, dates with, spending hum drum time with, daydreaming about, and welcoming home at the end of the day. Being married to Robby is so good that I hesitate to tell single people how good marriage is, because I might be setting them up for disappointment. After all, not everybody can marry Robby Parker.