This is my Birthright.

My first pregnancy, I planned for a medicated birth.  In the situation I was in, labor pain was the last thing I wanted to deal with.  Not to mention, I was terrified.  There is so much fear and horror surrounding birth.  But then I actually had Brightyn, and I was surprised nobody told me how amazing and beautiful it was. So when I found out I was pregnant again, I knew this time I would plan for an unmedicated birth.  I wanted to feel birth in its full glory.  I read everything I could about birth, I listened to birth stories, I practiced breathing, we practiced labor massage and counter pressure, we took a Lamaze class. 

Everyone said I was crazy, but the more they told me I couldn't do it, the more I knew I could.  When I was about 34 weeks pregnant, I brought it up to my family doctor (whom I was planning on to deliver my baby).  He laughed, and said I shouldn't close off the epidural as an option because some women don't handle labor pain well.  I was kind of annoyed, and embarrassed because I felt like he thought that my desire to experience birth was stupid.  Over the next few weeks, with lots of talks between my husband and I, and encouragement from family, I decided to switch providers to someone who would be supportive of my birthing choices.  At 36 weeks pregnant, I switched to the Valley OB Midwives, and finally I felt prepared for the birth of my little boy.

I started having prodromal labor on February 7th, for the first time at least (about 36 weeks and 3 days).  It was the Super Bowl and Bruce and I were going over to some friends’ house to watch the game.  Bruce was freaking out because I was having uncomfortable contractions all morning, about 5 minutes apart and a minute long.  I knew it was too soon for real labor, but I could feel them working my cervix.  By afternoon, I was exhausted. They weren't painful, but they took a lot of energy. They eventually fizzled out, but this happened several times over the course of the next month, which is why when I went into real labor, I wasn’t sure.

I chose not to have my cervix checked until 39 weeks, which at that point was mostly just for curiosity.  I knew it wouldn't affect when I actually went into labor. I was 4 cm and 60% effaced, so the prelabor was definitely doing something.  I set my next appointment for a week out, in hopes I wouldn't make it....

But a little over a week later, at 40 weeks and 1 day, on March 4^th, there I was in the office.  I hadn't even had any prelabor the last few days, and I was ready to go.  I had been spent all week trying to get my baby in the best positioning in hopes it would trigger labor.  I was 5 cm dilated and 90% effaced, so I chose to have my membranes swept, which is where the midwife uses her finger to detach the wall of the amniotic sac from the cervix to help trigger labor.  She did it, but said it was mostly detached anyways.  The midwife said if I start having any painful contractions to go into the hospital, it probably wouldn't be a long labor.  Bruce and I went to walk around Cabela's and then got Chubby’s for lunch and went home for a nap.  Nothing happened. At all. No cramping, no contractions, no nothing.  I had predicted weeks before that our baby would be born March 5th, and even that was seeming unlikely.

I slept comfortably and deeply until about 4 when I got up to go to the bathroom. Soon enough I started having very mild contractions, but didn't want to get my hopes up, so I just tried to sleep.  They became pretty regular, so I timed them.  They were 5-7 minutes apart and about a minute long.  They started growing in intensity, but were still not terribly painful, no more so than previous prodromal labor I had.  I could still walk and talk through contractions, so I knew it could be a while still.  Around 6 am, I started losing a lot of mucous plug and decided to wake Bruce up.  I sat next to the bed and gently tried to rouse him, he woke up and stormed off to the bathroom, came back to bed and crawled back in grumpily.  I say "Uhm, honey, I think we should call the midwife..." He was wide awake immediately, and when I told him what was happening he was like "Yeah, we need to leave now."  He took a quick shower and we packed up the car and by the time we were leaving the house at 6:30, I could no longer walk or talk through contractions, but felt totally fine in between.  I would just breathe deeply and relax.  We had a fifteen minute drive to the hospital, which was fairly uncomfortable during contractions and I was praying my water didn't break in the car.  We parked and walked in- I insisted on walking in order to keep the baby moving down. I would have to stop and lean on Bruce during contractions, and then we would keep walking.  The receptionist began to check us in, and while I thought I was fine to stop and answer questions there, Bruce asked them to get us to a room quickly.

She sent us up to labor and delivery, where I was admitted immediately.  We requested a room with a bathtub, and Bruce got that going since I knew I would want to get in as soon as I could.  The nurse then checked my dilation, I was at a 7.  Then they hooked me up for 20 minutes of monitoring before I got in the tub.  While I was getting monitored, I had a very strong contraction where I felt a small amount of fluid leak down my leg, so I said I thought my water broke, but there wasn't a whole lot of fluid so I wasn't sure.  Finally, my 20 minutes was over, so I went over to the bathroom.  About the time I walked in, I got very nauseous so I walked over to the toilet, bent slightly at my waist, and vomited in the direction of the bowl. I think half made it in.

I rinsed my mouth and climbed into the tub.  This is when things started getting more intense and closer together, and I got into my "labor zone".  I kneeled on the floor of the tub and rested my elbows on the bench and breathed through each contraction.  I focused on continuing to breathe, even at the peak of contractions, relaxing and embracing the sensations of the waves.  I trusted in my body, and let it do its work.  Contractions are intense, but for me it was not unbearable as long as I opened myself to the waves instead of tensing up.  I chanted to myself when they got hard, when my mind wanted to fight the pain, but I stayed in control, repeating over and over to myself "This is my birthright."  I don’t know why that phrase popped into my head, I hadn’t planned on that being part of my mantra, but it stuck with me.  For me it meant “I am a woman, my body is designed for this.  I am here because thousands of women before me have done this.  I can do this.” 

The contractions got closer together, with less than 30 seconds from the end of one to the start of another.  I knew I was in transition at full force, I knew this meant the end was near.  I started getting a "pushy feeling" and tried to relax and just breathe the baby down for a few contractions.  My body wasn't having any of this and the urge to push overtook and my whole body pushed along with the contraction.  The midwife then helped me get out of the tub, since this hospital didn't allow water deliveries.  I knelt on the bed, since that position felt really good in the tub, but it was so much more intense and difficult without the water to help hold up my body and warmth to ease my tired muscles.  My body was pushing again, and the contractions never really ended, just increased and decreased in intensity.  It was so strong, and overwhelming, and slightly terrifying to be honest.  I had never felt my body do anything like this before.  I yelled along with a contraction, unsure of how to handle everything I was feeling all at the same time, it felt like I was losing focus.  I concentrated on not fighting my body, letting it do what it knew it needed to do.  My midwife suggested I lay on my side because I wasn't pushing effectively in the position I was in.  I switched positions and tried to breathe for a contraction, but my body pushed whether I wanted to or not.

I vocalized (read: grunted/yelled) with every push.  It wasn't necessarily out of pain or fear, but it was a natural reflex to the intensity and strength required of me in those moments.  I realized I could feel my baby in the canal.  I could feel him move down with every push, and then back up again when I released.  This made it much easier to make my pushes more effective, and I started not releasing completely to try to hold him in place.  It started working, and I felt the "ring of fire" as he began crowning.  I was ready to be done, I was exhausted from pushing, it felt like it had been forever (though it had probably only been 15 minutes or so).  I reached down, and I could feel his little head! I could feel just a couple of inches of soft slimy hair, and all I could think was “GET OUT.”

I pushed some more, I don't know how many times, but finally his head was born in a geyser of amniotic fluid as my water broke at the same time.  Bruce had to dodge it, and there was water everywhere.  That is when Ronan decided he didn't want to be born, and just hung out a minute.  I pushed again.  And again.  And then the midwife realized something wasn't quite right and started giving orders.  A nurse replaced Bruce where he was standing and they pushed my legs back as far as possible, another nurse began pushing on my stomach, and my midwife was trying to turn Ronan to get his shoulders unstuck from behind my pelvic bone.  A little over a minute later, his body was born at 8:12 am.

And suddenly, there was no more pain. It was the weirdest thing, like all the craziness just turned off.  But man was I exhausted.  Four hours of labor, and I was DONE. I don't know how some women do it longer than that.  Ronan was laid on my chest for a moment, but since there was potential trauma and shock from the shoulder dystocia, the nurses had to take him pretty quick and give him some oxygen.  I relaxed for a minute, finally getting a chance to breathe deep breaths, when a crampy, slightly pushy feeling started up again.  My body was trying to birth the placenta now.  It came out easily in a few minutes, but it's such a weird sensation.  Like a balloon full of jelly exiting my body.  The midwife made sure it was intact, and then checked if I had tears.  One small tear, and that was it.  She did a small local injection of anesthesia, and started stitching me up. 

I finally got my baby around the time she finished cleaning me up.  I was so excited.  I thought I might cry when I had Ronan, but I didn't until later.  I was still on the hormone high from the delivery right then, but later, when things had settled down, I would cry because I didn't believe it was all real.  I had my baby.  MY BABY.  That I got to cuddle and kiss and never let go.  It was surreal.  It still is.  After nearly five years of arms aching to love on a little squish, I had mine.

It’s a bit of a cliché in the birthing community, but yes, my birth did make me feel empowered.  I feel stronger for it, and not just because I dealt with painful contractions for a few hours.  Throughout my pregnancy and birth, I learned patience, I learned to stand up for my convictions and desires, I learned to trust my own instincts.  No matter how a woman becomes a mother, it is never an easy path, and it is that way for a reason.  In a world that tries to downplay birth, motherhood, and what it means to be a woman, I felt powerful in doing exactly what I feel I am meant to do.  Because this is my birthright. 

Birthmothers Unite!

I wrote this blog 6 months ago and never finished or posted it.

"So, I am recently realizing that I am terrified of other birthmothers. I always find myself beginning to read other birthmother's blogs, and just a few posts in, I leave the page and then avoid birthmother blogs for months. One thing I was excited about when I moved to Provo was that there were a lot more people here, and probably more birthmothers too. I hoped a birthmother support group so badly, yet, I've lived here for 6 months and not once called the number I have to find out when the group meets. So, in spite of my love of adoption, why do I avoid other peoples adoptions so fervently?

I have only ever met one other birthmother (that I was aware of) in real life. Her name is Liz, and I met her when I was about 6 months pregnant. One Sunday, I decided to go to the Student Branch at my church, and the lesson in Relief Society was on Chastity. That started out as an awkward lesson, with obviously pregnant me sitting in the room, but it turned out to be a blessing. The teacher talked about all the normal things concerning chastity, but then Liz talked about how when she was 17 she got pregnant and placed her baby for adoption. My mind was blown, because at that point I had just started seriously considering adoption. I think now that Heavenly Father had a hand in me ending up in a different classroom than I normally was, because if I hadn't been there, I would have never found out that Liz was a birthmother. After class, I asked Liz for her number and if she would be willing to have lunch with me sometime and talk.

That phone number sat, unused, in my phone until a week before I was due (about 3 months). I wonder why I waited so long to talk to Liz, because by that point, I had already made my decision. I think maybe it was because I didn't want her adoption and experiences to influence my decision. I wanted to make an unbiased, completely true decision based on my beliefs and circumstances. So a week before I was due, I finally texted Liz and we met for lunch. "

Liz ended up becoming a fantastic friend to me and I love her to death this this day.  But she doesn't live in Provo :(.  So finally, last Friday I called the phone number from the LDS Family Services office in Provo and found out the time and meeting place for the Birthparent Support Group. And that is where I spent my evening today.

I was terrified to go. What if all the girls were really weird? Or mean? Or negative about adoption? I had read birthmother blogs from girls who years and years after the adoption are a wreck still.  I wasn't sure how I would handle it if I met someone like that.  Adoption has been such an amazing thing in my life, what if I was confronted by someone who didn't feel the same?

All my fears were for nothing.  The Birthparent Support Group was fantastic.  Seriously, these girls were awesome.  There were four of us who had already placed, and two who were considering/about to place.  The other three girls who had placed had wonderful, amazing, positive adoption stories and we spent most of the two hours together just talking about our adoption stories and asking each other questions and absolutely raving about how awesome our baby's parents are (I love you, Jared and Amy!).  The other two girls about to place talked about their situations and asked us all questions and discussed their plans.  It was just such a beautiful experience sitting in a room with five other girls who has been through the same things I have.

I am so glad I finally gained the courage to go out and meet these other birthmothers.  I am definitely going to keep going to Support Group, not because I struggle with the adoption or my decision, but because there is just a camaraderie between birthmothers that cannot be found anywhere else. It's like a solace in the understanding between women who know we all fought for the same thing: our baby's future.

When I Will Be Happy.

I am a failure at birthmother blogging. I have about three trillion half-written blogs that i need to just compile and post someday...
Anyways, I'm going through my phase of pregnancy and birth obsession lately. Every few months I get very interested in babies again, mostly because I thought the whole process was freaking amazing. Definitely a defining moment for me.  One of the best and happiest days of my life, in spite of the fact that it is quite hazy and the details aren't very clear anymore - for my best recounting take a look at this blog: http://sunshinealisha.blogspot.com/2012/11/her-birth-day-and-her-birthday.html
So, that was mostly irrelevent to the rest of the post, but I like to think that being obsessed with pregnancy/birth/babies etc is pretty normal among birthmothers, barring the fact that I have only ever met in real life one other birthmother (that I know of).
Last semester was rough for me, for a number of reasons. I was starting at a new college, moved into a new apartment, had new roommates, Kelton had died only a couple months before, I was having trouble getting my cosmetology licensing to go through, I was short on money, the list goes on and on.  I was under so much stress, and my brain in all effects had decided to stop functioning.  I couldn't focus on anything for very long, yet everything and everybody in my life was demanding something from me, and all I wanted to do (and mostly all I did) was lay in bed and cry. Anyways, November of last year I wrote these two paragraphs:

"I feel rushed. Like I need to get my life out of the way as quickly as possible. The pressure to get an education, find the man I'm supposed to marry, make a family. I feel like I need to make it happen tomorrow. Theres all these expectations and pressures, both external and internal, that push me forward everyday, and some days they get so intense to the point where I sit, stagnant, in my bedroom all day. I don't know why I think I need to make these things happen so quickly, maybe because those are the things that I was raised thinking I needed to do. Or maybe because I think I will finally be happy when I have accomplished those things. Or maybe because I'm just a ridiculous person who thinks they need to take on the whole world in one bite.
So I spend everyday being miserable, because I keep thinking only the future holds happiness. I couldn't wait to get out of high school, cause I thought then I would be happy. Then I thought that I would be happy after I placed my baby, then I thought I would be happy when I got out of San Angelo. Now I'm here, where I thought I was meant to be, doing what I always wanted to, and I'm not happy, and I don't know why. I've been stuck in this ridiculous cycle of 'When I Will Be Happy'.
I've been trying to be optimistic, thinking things would get better, but they haven't yet. I have so many ups and downs, I try changing something in my life, and I think things are getting better for a few days, I get excited, but soon enough I find myself down again. I blame my unhappiness on all these other things when really, they're just another step in my 'When I Will Be Happy' Cycle."

Even when I wrote those paragraphs I didn't fully understand my thoughts on the whole thing, but going back and reading them, I love my idea of the "When I Will Be Happy" Cycle.  It would begin with me being unhappy, and I would look around me and see a happy person, and see what they had that I didn't and I would decide that if I had that thing, I would then be happy.  So I would work toward whatever it was, all the while being miserable because I thought I couldn't be happy if I didn't have that thing. Eventually, I always would make it there, and I would be happy I accomplished whatever it was or got the thing I wanted, but soon after I always found myself unhappy and wanting something else...and the cycle begins again.
So my new personal goal is learning to be happy while working towards the things I want.  A degree, a family, a home...all these things will come in time and definitely make me very happy, but I can be happy now too.  It doesn't always work completely, I still spend plenty of time pining for things I can't have right now anyways, but I like to think happiness is a work in progress. There isn't any rush to get life done with, so I want to stop rushing.  It brings to mind the song "I'm In A Hurry" by Alabama, a song that my family has always joked is my dad's personal theme song because he is constantly in a hurry or rushing to get everything done. One line says, "I rush and rush until life is no fun..." Well I want to stop rushing, to stop thinking I have to make everything I want in my life happen today.  I want to appreciate the things I have in my life right now: youth, friends, freedom, independence, flexibility. I just want to be happy with where I am at, as long as I am working towards the things I know I want from life.  But they don't have to happen today or tomorrow or even next week.  I wish it all could, but it won't, so there is not point wasting energy on stressing or worrying when I could use that energy being happy.

So when will I be happy? My answer is today!

Not like Juno.

You know what I don't like? The movie Juno. And how when I bring up adoption, people bring up Juno. They're all like "Oh, like Juno?" and I am like, "No, not like Juno. At all."

Maybe I don't like Juno because it is so drastically different than my adoption story. And maybe because adoption is so much more complex than a movie can convey. I honestly don't like the character that is "Juno". I think she is annoying like no other. I hate the way she handles her pregnancy and relationship with the guy who got her pregnant. And that they don't show the weeks of mental breakdowns after placement. But thats Hollywood, and the movie made me bawl my eyes out anyways.

But lately I noticed I don't cover my entire story in this blog either. So I will try to fill some of the blank areas.

The last thing I really mentioned was the finding out, which is in this post:

http://sunshinealisha.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-wrote-this-more-for-me-than-for-you.html

And I have described why I placed which is here:

http://sunshinealisha.blogspot.com/2011/12/adoption-vs-single-parenting-vs.html

When I was about 12 weeks along, I had my first doctors appointment. I talked to the doctor about my health and life and blah blah blah, and my mom mentioned to the doctor we were considering adoption. I didn't really agree, but kept my mouth shut. I hadn't decided anything yet. I remember seeing the baby on the little ultrasound machine. The doctor checked that the baby was there and developing correctly. I was kind of frightening. It made the whole thing less imaginary, less hypothetical. I felt like crying, but tried not to. He gave me a little printout, and I carried that thing with me everywhere for the next few months. I stared at it for hours, thinking "That is my little baby. It is growing inside me. I love it so much."

So, I was pregnant for my last 4 months of high school. During which I wasn't showing and was able to avoid the drama of being pregnant in high school. And although pregnant teenagers were no big deal at my school, can you imagine me showing up to the Top 10% Banquet or NHS ceremony pregnant? Senior prank of the century. I almost went anti-social. My family and a few close friends knew, but I still didn't really like talking about it. I didn't say anything about it on social networking sites, I never even mentioned it on Facebook until several days after placing her for adoption. It was my not so little secret with myself. I didn't like hearing others opinions or thoughts on the matter. I wanted to figure this out on my own.

For a long time, I didn't think I would place. I didn't want to. I couldn't imagine it. Though, alot of the time, I couldn't comprehend the fact that I was pregnant. I didn't really get sick, my belly wasn't big yet, and I lost my appetite. I slept alot, read alot, and thought alot. I would imagine having a baby. All the cute things I could buy it, and how I would raise my child, and the kind of life I would want it to have. It still didn't seem real though. I tried to guess the gender of my baby. I thought for a long time it would be a boy. I wanted a boy. I thought that if it were a boy, I wouldn't get as attached. I even had a couple dreams about a little boy, and was so sure that it was MY little boy.

When I was around 18 weeks along, I had my full sonogram. I chose to go alone. The technician tried to talk to me, but I stayed pretty quiet. I watched my baby on the screen. The technician pointed out her arms and legs and head and heart. She told me it was a girl. I realized this baby was REAL. It wasn't the baby I imagined up for myself. It wasn't the baby in my dream. It was a real child, flesh and blood, who was going to be born in 22 weeks, and needed a real home. A home just as real and safe and healthy as she was now. And a part of me knew I couldn't give her that.

For weeks I still insisted on contemplating parenting. I wanted to so bad. Eventually I gave in, and after much thought and prayer and tears, I accepted the placement. I knew what was right. It broke my heart, thinking of letting my baby leave me. But this wasn't a movie, and everything doesn't just work out alright in the end. I had to make it right, all on my own.

Her birth day and her Birthday.

I started this post a few weeks ago, because I knew it would take me at least that long to write it. I knew it would be one of the posts I love writing because it's a story thats so close to my heart, but also because I knew I would cry my eyes out. And I did, because it's pulling out alot of emotions that I tried so hard to control, so here I am, the night before my beautiful baby's first birthday, trying to see the keyboard and make sense of all the thoughts in my head.

No matter how much I loved Sunshine, by the last few weeks of my pregnancy, I was ready to be done. So it was the day before my due date and I had a doctors appointment in the morning. (Pause for awesome fun fact: Sunshine's due date was 11/11/11. How crazy? ) Anyways, I had this doctors appointment, and I went in hopeful, for some type of good news that maybe I was very dialated or something, anything, to indicate that this baby was getting out SOON. I was disapointed when I was barely 1 cm dialated, and the doctor didn't have much to say except that now we just had to wait. I was dying inside, it was torure waiting for my baby to come. Everday I woke up with the impending labor/delivery and subsequent placement weighing on my shoulders. I just wanted it to happen already, or at least have a deadline. My mom asked about inducing me, and the doctor launched into some spiel about how they "dont like to induce first time mothers" and "unknown risks" blah blah blah. My mom looked the doctor in the eye and said "we need to get this over with", and the doctor couldn't do much against the wrath of mamma bear. He caved, and I told him I wanted to be induced on Monday morning.
I was so excited, it was a Thursday, meaning only 3 full days left of my pregnancy, if that. I got home and immediately called Jared and Amy.  There was nothing I wanted more for them than the opportunity to be there when their child was born. They confirmed that they would make it to San Angelo by Monday morning... and then the wait began.

I had alot of mixed feelings the last few days of carrying Sunshine. I was really tired of being huge and heavy and tired all the time, and I would be overjoyed when I thought of Monday and how she would finally be brought into the world and I could finally get my life back to normal. Then there were the moments when I thought of what her being born really meant: That there would no longer be my little baby inside me all cuddled up and warm. I wouldn't have my sweet girl to give all my love to and care about. I would cry, harder than I ever had before, and all I could think is "I don't want her to go." THen the horrible anticipation of the placement. All the paperwork, all the legal formalities and people who wanted to talk to me about the placement. We had been over the papers before, but would I feel differently about them now? How would it feel to sign them? What would it feel like, leaving the hospital empty handed?

I hoped I would go into labor early, but no such luck. I arrived at the hospital on Monday, November 14th, at 6 am. They weighed me (only gained 30 lbs!) and I was in my bed, started on petocin (the drug that induces labor) around 7. The checked to see how dialated I was, and I was still at like 2 cm. Around 8 they broke my water, and after that the contractions started pretty intensely and regularly. Somewhere around this time the birthfather and his family and Jared and Amy showed up. We sat around for a while, chatting, and watchign the macheines. The nurses had some issues getting the monitors to stay on, due to the wierd perfect roundness of my stomach. (I heard frequently that I literally looked like I had a basketball under my shirt). I think around 10 oclock I decided I had had enough of the contractions and it was time for the epidural. That in and of itself was a fun little endeavor, but once the drugs were in my system, I felt great! They even gave me an awesome little button to push if I needed an extra boost. Within a 30 minutes, I couldn't feel anything below my waist. By 12 o'clock I was dialated to 8 cm, and at 1 pm I was fully dialated and began pushing.

At 2:43 in the afternoon, I gave birth to Sunshine. She was 7lbs 8oz, and 19 inches long. I remember the first moment I saw Sunshine. It was just a glimpse of her, as I opened my eyes after she was born, and I heard her cry and saw her little blueish body moving in the hands of the doctor. I remember that moment so clearly. I remember how insanely happy I was, and how much I loved her at that moment, and just my amazement at finally seeing the beautiful child that had been growing in me for the last 9 months. Because I was lucky enough to have Sunshine's family there, I made sure Amy was in the room when I gave birth and that she was able to cut her umbilical cord and be the first to hold her. Seeing Amy holding Sunshine was such a spiritual moment for me, because I knew so strongly that Amy was meant to be her mother. Then Amy brought her next to me and placed her by my head to see. I remember the first time I saw that cute little squished face, and how my first thought was "Oh my, newborns are ugly", yet I loved her so much and thought she was so gorgeous anyways. And Amy and I just looked at this baby that we both loved so much and cried.

Legally, the placement couldn't happen until 48 hours after I gave birth, and I chose to take care of her for those 2 days. I count those 48 hours as the best in my life. Taking care of Sunshine was such a fantastic experience for me. I was able to find my buried mothering instincts and get to know my little girl the best I could. I loved just holding her and cuddling with her, and did every moment I had a chance. She was seriously the most adorable baby I had ever seen, and every time I looked at her, I loved her even more. I enjoyed changing her diapers, and cleaning up her spit-up, and just watching her sleep. When time came for placement, I was terrified. I got really frusturated that day, because it seemed like every ten minutes there was a different counselor or doctor or nurse coming to bother me, when I really just wanted to spend as much time with Sunshine as I could, because I knew that after this day, it would be at least 6 months until I saw her again. So around 3 in the afternoon, we started signing papers. As I held my baby in one arm, and signed the papers that made her Jared and Amy's, I just cried. I knew what I was doing was right, beyond a doubt, but I was so afraid of being without my baby. I had become so attached, so dependent on what she meant to me, and the love I gave her. I didn't want her to leave, I wanted to stay in that hospital with my newborn baby forever. I didn't know what I would do with myself when I didn't have her anymore. Signing those papers was one of the greatest feats of faith I have ever experienced. I knew I just had to trust God that I could still go on with life without Sunshine in my arms.

Time came to get packed up and leave. I left the hospital alongside Jared and Amy, and watched as they situated their new baby into the car. There were so many hugs and tears and love expressed in those last few minutes before we drove off. In just a matter of days, we had become family, and I loved Jared and Amy so much for all that I knew that they would do for my baby. I knew that they loved her just as much as I did, I knew they were meant to be her parents, I knew they would provide her with so much that I could not have. All the stability and opportunities and happiness that I knew they would give her meant the world to me.

As I got in my parents car and we drove away, it was so surreal. It was scary seeing the same streets I always had, but now I was just Alisha. Not Alisha and baby, like before. There was a small sense of accomplishment in the back of my mind, that I had finally overcome what I had been waiting for months to conquer. But mostly, I missed my baby. I missed her more than anything or anyone I had ever missed before. I felt so lonely, all I wanted was to hold her again, to hold her forever, but I couldn't, so instead, I cried.

Today is Sunshine's first birthday, and when I look back on the placement, I smile. I don't have an ounce of regret for my decision, and I am so thankful she has turned out to be such a happy little girl. One year ago I gave birth to her, and now, thanks to open adoption, I have the opportunity to spend that day with her and her family again. I couldn't ask for anything more.

When it all became real.

As October progresses, I have found myself thinking back on this time last year, in which I was 8 months pregnant, and coming up on one of the most difficult times in my life.  I remember trying to prepare mentally. I had become so attached to my baby, I loved her so much, and still do. I couldn't imagine giving her to someone else to raise, but I couldn't deny that I knew she didn't belong to me.
I had been speaking to Jared and Amy for months, and I finally told them I wanted to place my baby with them, but wanted to meet them in person first. So they got on an airplane, and came all the way from Idaho, just for a day, to meet me and Sunshine's birthfather, just two weeks before my due date.
We met in the morning at a little breakfast place called "Kozy Kitchen". It was sort of weird at first, I think we were all unsure of how to act. I had been emailing these people for months, I knew so much about them, but suddenly, they were real. And I was going to give my baby to them. We ate, and talked, and I really don't remember about what except our conversation about naming the baby. I told them that it was going to be their baby that they would live with everyday, so they could name her. But they said they didn't want to name her something I hated, because I would have to call her that too. They suggested a name- and could tell I was not a fan of it. Then the birthfather and I suggested the name that we had always liked, and Jared and Amy really liked it too. (Later they remembered that their friends had just named their baby that, so it ended up being her middle name.) Over the weeks, I contemplated the name Jared and Amy suggested, and by the time I had Sunshine, I loved it, and still do until this day. (Sunshine is not her real name, it's just what I call her on my blog because it's public.)
Anyways, after breakfast, we went over to the birthfather's house for them to have some time to get to know Jared and Amy. I'll be honest, this was probably one of the scariest parts of the day for me. While my family was very supportive of any decision I would have made, especially my decision to place, the birthfathers family was not. They weren't LDS and didn't have the same beliefs that were driving my decision. So they struggled with the idea of the adoption. I had been trying to defend the adoption to them throughout my whole pregnancy, but when I look back, it really helped me become stronger in my decision, constantly having someone questioning it. Every time I had to explain why I was doing this crazy thing, it reinforced that it was the right thing too.
Then in the late afternoon, we went back to my house to meet my parents. Jared and Amy clicked with my family immediately. There was just this mutual love for my baby and understanding of God and the gospel that seemed to bring us together. It has been wonderful to see how our families have come together, even after Sunshine's birth. It's like, all these people love this one little girl so very much, and have become like family because of it.
And then, I met Jared and Amy's son.
They had adopted him as an infant also, 3 years earlier. I seriously think he is what sold me on this family. He was the most adorable, wonderful, loving little boy ever, and I just HAD to have him as my baby girl's big brother. I could just imagine them a few years later, when some kid thought it would be funny to pick on Sunshine, and he would step in and make sure nobody touched his sister.
Later in the evening, everyone gathered at my house for hamburgers, and at one point, I was sitting next to Amy on the couch when the baby started kicking. While I was pregnant, it was ridiculously easy to see the baby move inside my stomach. It was visible from across the room, and almost freakish looking. Anyways, I pointed it out to Amy, and she was able to see her future daughter kicking inside my stomach.
Eventually the day had to end, and Jared and Amy and their son had to head back north, so we said our goodbyes. We even took pictures, which are among the very very few that exist of me pregnant (due to the fact that I kept it a secret from much of society, esp social networking sites, until after the adoption). So, I present to all of the birthmother blogging world, a photo of me, huge and 8 1/2 months pregnant! Also pictured is the birthfather on the left, and Jared and Amy and their son in the middle.

 

I look back on that day as a happy one. A stressful, long, emotional day for sure, but a happy one. Things started to fall into place, and the fact that I was placing my baby for adoption became real. I was terrified about what the next few weeks would hold, but I when I laid down to (kind of) sleep that night, I was completely sure that I had found the family that my baby belonged to.

Death.

I woke up this morning feeling kind of nostalgic and sad, and at first I wasn't sure why. Then I realized it was October 3rd, meaning it had been 3 months since Kelton died. It's been a wierd 3 months since he died, and I can't believe its only been 3 months because it feels like he has been gone for forever.

Before Kelton died, I always wondered why people got so upset about family and loved ones dying. I had never known anyone who died, and because I'm LDS, I always just thought, "It's no big deal, you will see them again, it's not like they are gone forever!".  Now I kick myself in the face for my insensitivity, because death is a complicated and frustrating part of life. Kelton's cousin told me he died shortly after it happened. He gave me him number via facebook, and I called and argued with him for five minutes about how him and Kelton needed to stop playing this joke on me, because it wasn't funny. By the time I started to believe him, I was crying so hard I could barely breathe. I couldn't understand how this had happened. Death had always been such a foreign idea to me. And now someone I was so close to had died. Unexpectedly.

One of the scariest parts for me was the randomness of it all. Things had been going really well for me at that point in my life- I had just moved to Provo, I lived near Kelton and Sunshine, I was going to go to BYU in the fall, I was getting all geared up for what I expected to be the time of my life. And then, out of nowhere, a stupid one-car accident, and the car flipped and fell in just the wrong way as to break Keltons neck and leave him dead.

Dead. But at that time, what did "dead" mean to me? I had never seen a dead person in real life. I had never been to a funeral. I had known a few old people who died, at church or a distant relative or something, but those deaths were expected. I had never been emotionally attached to those people or really associated with them for more than a minute or so.

That night, it was odd not having Kelton and I's nightly Skype session or phone call. But I was mostly in shock, and while I was upset, I was mostly scared, because I had no idea what the next few days would hold for me. His dad called me to make sure I had heard what happened and let me know he would update me on funeral stuff whenever he found out. I was terrified at the idea of the funeral. I didn't know what to expect, or who would be there, or how all that worked. Did I really want to go see his dead body?

In spite of all my fears, I made my way up to a city in Idaho where I had never been, and went to his funeral. I had been staying with Kelton's dad and family, and so I was early to the viewing on Friday night. I tried to not think about seeing his body, but I knew I needed to do it. As I walked tword the front of the empty room, I felt all the supressed emotions start to come to the surface, and when I got close enough to see his face, I broke down. That body, that the last time I had seen it was bright and alive, was now dull and lifeless. It didn't look like him, Kelton was so animated and expressive, it couldn't be him. It was shocking, realizing the difference that the spirit makes inside a body. The warm, happy, soft boy that I had joked, cuddled, laughed, and talked with, was laying there, missing the thing that made him Kelton.

So that's what physical death is. Where the body is no longer functioning. I know his spirit is out there, doing whatever it is that God is having his spirit do, and Kelton is just fine. But his physical death has stipulations for those of us still alive. Stipulations such as the fact that we can't communicate anymore, or touch, or do fun things together. And it sucks. People all say things like "Oh he is still looking out for you" or "He is there and you just can't see him", well guess what? It doesn't make it suck any less. It doesn't make it any less confusing for my heart or mind.

Kelton came and left so quickly, but he still left an impression. Sometimes I wonder why God would put someone in my life for such a short time, but then I remember all the lessons I've learned, both from Kelton's life and death. Like that an open-casket funeral is a ridiculous tradition, why the heck does anyone want to look at a dead body? And more seriously, to cherish the times you have with the people you love, because you never know when they'll be gone.

And, for those who don't know, Kelton was a pretty good guitar player. I don't know much about guitar, but I for sure can't play it. Also, the tshirt he is wearing in this video is the one he was wearing when we met. Ironic much?

The Problem (And Solution) of My Body

This following blog isn't going to be me begging for attention or reassurance of myself, I'm just approaching a very difficult subject for some women: our after-baby bodies. I know everybody has heard before the complaints about how modern culture puts so much emphasis on women being skinny and flat stomachs and blah blah blah. I don't really mind them. I have come to realize I rarely see a woman who looks like the girls in magazines, and I'm okay with that reality, and the reality that I will probably never look like those girls, so that doesn't bother me at all.

But I live in Provo, Utah, where the majority of females I associate with are normal college age women. And not that they are physically perfect or anything, but they are generally attractive girls, with normal body types. Like I said, not perfect, and everybody is a little different, but most of them have never grown a person inside their stomach. And so sometimes I worry about my body. I go to the pool, and I see other girls, and I notice that I have just a slightly different shape to my body. And sometimes I see one of my roommates stomach and remember that mine isn't smooth skin, I have stretch mark scars. And I see a girl in shorts, and remember that I have vericose veins on my legs and so I couldn't wear those shorts if I wanted to. Sometimes I am sad that now I have scars on my stomach, and vericose veins on my legs, and a little bit of a pudge on my belly that will never really go away.

I recently read an article about "What Postpartum Bellies Really Look Like", and it had some pictures women had submitted of their bellies at different times after having a baby. I was reminded that yes, other women have ugly stomachs too, and it's normal and okay. These ladies have some guts to show their stomachs on the internet, and sorry, you won't get a shot of mine, but it's the reality of what pregancy can do to a woman's body. Honestly, I look like any typical woman who has had a child, and compared to many of these, I'm actually doing really well!
(http://blogs.babble.com/babys-first-year-blog/2012/02/02/what-our-post-baby-bellies-really-look-like/)

But sometimes I worry about my future husband. Yes, I know that that guy I marry will love me no matter what, but I still am insecure about the fact that he isn't getting some pretty girl with a nice body. I feel like I am ripping him off or something. Like I said, I know that he will love me, and in the end my body doesn't matter, it would get all screwed up by kids anyways, but that doesn't keep insecurities from creeping into my mind. I just do my best to remember that I'm beautiful just the way I am, and if a guy doesn't agree, he isn't worth my time.

I can't be the first birthmom to worry about my body. Us birthmoms are put in a tight position, where we give up our pretty, youthful bodies for a child that we don't raise. It seems to other people like we go through all the suffering of pregnancy and childbirth, with nothing to show for it. Of course, we know better, because I would trade my body for Sunshine's happiness any day.

So, I'm learning to love my slightly distorted and scarred body. I like to think it tells part of my life story. My body will never let me forget what I went through for Sunshine, and I never want to. It's not perfect, and far from pretty, but it is beautiful in a corny, idealistic way. I think the scars feel kind of cool when I run my fingers over them, and I joke with my sisters that my loose skin feels like bread dough (though that is improving with time). I dress for my altered body type, and to be honest, I sometimes wear spandex to give the illusion of a more youthful silhouette. Also, I have a decently pretty face, so I like to think that it helps make up for the lesser attractive areas of my body. Most days I don't worry about my body too much, but there are those days where I just feel super disgusting and ugly, as all women do sometimes. And on those days, I just avoid the scale, eat a salad instead of ice cream, and look at pictures of my beautiful Sunshine. :)

LOOK AT THOSE CUTE TEETH!!!!!!!!!

Real Love. It's not what the movies say it is.

One time when I was like 11 years old my friend and I were supposed to go over to her aunts house to swim, well my friend got in trouble for something I don't remember, and we couldn't go. So I went home and cried because now I didn't know what to do that afternoon because my friend couldn't play with me and my dad told me "You just depend on her too much." and I asked him what he meant and he said that I needed to learn to have fun on my own too. For some reason this statement stuck in my head, and although I didn't do much about it then, I think about it often now. I don't want to be dependent on other people.

I've had a few relationships with guys where I was very dependent on them, especially emotionally. Those relationships always ended badly... I dated a guy for a year and a half, and didn't even want to be with him anymore for the last half of the relationship, but didn't know what I would do with myself if I didn't have him. It took him going away for a month for me to realize I would be just fine without him. I was still devastated by the break up and it was very emotionally tolling and complicated for me. I vowed to never have that kind of relationship ever again. The kind where I had to speak to them every second of every day, see them as often as possible, and constantly have them reinforcing my worth as a person. NEVER AGAIN.

So in my attempt to not have a clingy, dependent relationship, I found myself in a short series of very bad relationships, just this time, it was the opposite extreme. I refused to emotionally invest myself in any way whatsoever, but to try to make up for it, I gave them whatever I could physically and refused to commit. Most of these flings lasted only a few weeks, if that, and when it would go down the drain, I wouldn't even shed a tear. Every single one of them would go back to their clingy, annoying exgirlfriend that they always had complained about, which now I realize is because I wasn't giving them the emotional food they craved.

I have found myself on both extremes of the spectrum, and neither one is pleasant. So what is a good balance though? What is the difference between needing to be together every moment of every day, and just enjoying eachothers company? What causes a realtionship to be hurtful rather than helping? What is real love?

I think the world has the idea of love all wrong. There is this stereotype of love, that it is this romantic, desperate longing for someone, where all you do is think about them and want to be with them, and there is nothing more important than that person. The kind of love where people give up anything and everything just to be together. The whole "can't eat, can't sleep, reach for the stars, world series kind of stuff" (It Takes Two).

I am one of the few lucky kids these days who has parents who are still married, and they are a fantastic example to me of what real love is like. They aren't perfect, but they accept each other in their imperfectons and help build each other. I have never heard them have a yelling or screaming fight, yes I have heard them have disagreements, but they handle it like adults and talk it out and make compromises. They really love each other. They love to be together, and they love their family. They make each other so happy, but it isn't destructive.

Real love isn't needing somebody. But it is wanting somebody. You can go on with life without them, but if they are around, it makes it just that much better. It is caring about someone so much that you want to be better for them. They are your best friend, the person you turn to in challenges, and who you can be completely yourself around.

I've quoted Mrs. Snell before, and that time I was disagreeing with some of her comments, but this time I am going agree with her.  She has an article about Chemistry in a relationship. She talks about how in some relationships there are a lot of highs and lows, and the highs seem so much higher just because the lows are so low. In a good relationship there shouldn't be any extreme lows. Not that a relationship won't have its challenges, but there shouldn't be feelings of abandonment and rejection. A persons self worth should not be tied into the relationship.
(http://itsyourtechnique.com/2010/06/22/chemisty-what-is-it-how-do-i-recognize-it-and-how-important-is-it/)

Maybe I'm not one to say what real love is. I'm not married or in a relationship, or even close to being in one. But I have had my fair share of bad relationships and I've done plenty of observing. And I want to marry a guy that I love, but only if it's real love. The best friend, last forever, trusting and compromising kind of stuff.

"I'm still the same, not much has changed, I still know where I came from."

- A Day To Remember (Another Song About the Weekend)

Okay, so my adorable little Sunshine is getting bigger everyday!!! It still blows my mind that she is almost 10 months old! I feels like it has been so much longer since I had her... And good news, I have lost all the weight except like 5 lbs! I get to see her ever few weeks, at least once a month I go up there for Sunday evening dinner, or I stop by if I just happen to make my way up through Salt Lake.  I was at her family's house when I found out about Kelton, and I am insanely grateful to her parents for dealing with my mental self the day after.  I seriously could not have picked better people to be my little darlings parents! I hope her whole family knows how much I love and appreciate them!

Such a thoughtful little cutie!

I really miss being pregnant sometimes.  I was lucky that I had such an easy pregnancy, because it left a good taste in my mouth about the whole baby-growing ordeal.  The downside to this is that I wish I was pregnant alot, because I like having a sweet little baby all cuddled up and warm inside me.  It just made me happy.  But annoyingly enough, I still have just under 3 years left of college, and I don't want to stop halfway. 

And on the topic of college, I just started my first semester of Brigham Young University!!! Its crazy to think that I'm finally where I know I'm supposed to be. The summer before I got pregnant, my family and I travelled up to Montana to visit our extended family and we stopped in Salt Lake to visit all the historical things there.  I absolutely loved it, and although at the time I wanted to go to Montana for school, I secretly knew I needed to come to Utah.  But then, at one of the most critical times in life, I found myself pregnant, and my life was basically put on hold.

Although I still went to school and worked through my pregnancy, there were days when I thought I would never get anywhere in life.  There were days when I was so absolutely sure that I would never get out of San Angelo and that no decent man would ever love me again.  I thought I would be miserable forever.  In the ten months since I placed Sunshine, I have had all of these things proven wrong. God is awesome like that.

Now this summer has been very challenging. Between moving and trying to make new friends, Kelton dying, and all the stress of school and money, I would have to say it equals, if not surpasses, the summer I spent in Texas pregnant.  But with this new school year, I am realizing that everything I have been through the last two years has brought me to this exact place at this time for a reason.  Every time things get so difficult that I just want to give up, I remind myself that what I'm looking for is out there somewhere, and every day is just a moment closer to him.

DATING SUCKS.

So, as most of you know, I moved to Provo a few months ago. When I first moved here, I was in a semi-relationship with Kelton, and while I was definitely interested in dating, it wasn't much of a priority for me. I had Kelton and I didn't really mind if other guys weren't asking me out. Then Kelton died, and suddenly I had all this free time from when I used to be on the phone or Skyping or hanging out with him. And now, I really want to date.

But wanting to date is not enough, somehow I have to get guys to ASK me on dates. About a week ago, I went to an institute class where this dating coach lady, Alisa Goodwin Snell, came to speak. Now, she was a great speaker and everything she said made alot of sense, but it also reinforced that I absolutely suck at getting guys to like me. She had a whole list of what guys want/like when they meet a girl, which are listed here:

Acting cool, casual, indifferent, and flat in her body language (i.e. acting like a pal), tells a man she does not have faith in him or trust his ability to respect her feminine, vulnerable, or softer side.

Giving a man her number, calling him, or asking him out (without his pursuit of these things first) robs him of the challenge, sacrifice, and accomplishment that he needs to engage in if he is to value and appreciate her.

Refusing a man’s help not only tells him he is not needed or important, it also denies him the opportunity to experience her appreciation and to feel like a hero.

(http://itsyourtechnique.com/2011/02/17/7-signs-he-sees-you-as-a-pal-not-a-gal/)

All of which I pretty much do not do, or if I do, it is not frequently. That's just the way I am. I'm not super flirty or feminine acting. If I want a guy to text me and he hasn't asked, I give him my number, do with it what he pleases. And if I can do something, I will do it myself, the way I want it done. But, according to Alisa, these things turn off a guy because they don't make him feel masculine or needed.

But why should I go out of my way to make a guy like me? I'm not feminine and needy in relationships, so why should I act like I am? And why would I want a guy who needs me to reinforce his masculinity by acting feminine? I am comfortable with myself the way I am: pretty, smart, and capable. I've gone through an entire pregnancy without a male companion, I don't think there is much I need a guy for. But I want to get married and have kids someday, and disppointingly enough that requires a man. Also, I enjoy being in love, as long as it is a healthy sort of love.

My theory on all this is that the man I marry will love me the way I am. I don't think I should change the way I treat men, my future husband will recognize my indepenence and strength and not be threatened by it. So, while I may not get as many dates as a girl who is good at the above mentioned techniques for getting boys (which there is nothing wrong with), I will remain confident in the idea that the guy I will marry is out there and will find his way to me somehow. One of many times that Kelton and I were discussing love and relationships via Skype, he said to me "Well if he is the right one, he will wade through that river, scale that wall, and come to you." I've never forgotten that, because none of the other guys matter, except the right one.

Your smile fades in the summer.

DISCLAIMER(AGAIN): For those of you who don't known my blog very well, Kelton is NOT Sunshine's birthfather. Also, I think my blog has evolved from not only a birthmother blog, but just a blog about my life in general, though I do owe you an update on little Sunshine! :D
----
I wrote the following few paragraphs just a few days before Kelton died.



"I've found myself at a crossroads. And it's one of those crossroads where either path will lead to happiness. I have to decide whether to keep a certain boy in my life. Whether to continue things on as they are, a sort-of kinda relationship, never committing, or to commit and marry him. Problem is, I feel it is a decison that is much larger than myself, because depending how I make this decision, I will effect not only myself but my future spouse and children. I dont think that staying with Kelton would make my life miserable, I could be very happy with him, I just think I might be happier with somebody else. Maybe there is someone out there better for me. And someone out there that is better for him.
My dad gave me a blessing once, and he said in it that my eternal companion was out there looking for me, and I think he meant it literally, that right at this moment he is searching for me. I feel like I am supposed to find him soon, but my stubborn self is not in the right place yet. I have this urgency in my heart, like I need to put myself in a position where I am ready to be who I am supposed to be for him.

But what if I am wrong? What if I give up Kelton, someone who means so much to me, and I still have to wait around for a few years? I don't want to. I can't do it for that long."


So many people have asked me since he died if I had been planning to marry him. From the beginning, many of my friends told me they thought I would marry him, and I know his family wanted us to, even though they had never met me. They just said that he changed after he met me, and all they really cared about was that he was happier than he had ever been in his life. But for some reason neither of us felt right about being in a "real relationship". We were never fully committed to eachother and we were okay with that, but most people around us didn't understand it, especially when we had such obviously strong feelings for eachother. And looking back now, I understand why we felt that way, although we couldnt explain it.

We talked about marriage alot, especially in the few weeks before his death. We knew it had come to the point where we either had to be together for real, or break off the way things were. We loved eachother, it was undeniable, but we also knew that we both had alot to do with our lives before we were prepared for marriage. In some wierd way, I knew I wouldn't always have him. I just didn't think it would be his death that would remove him from my life. I thought it would be on my terms.

In some ways, I'm happy there wasn't a nasty difficult breakup with drama and hard feelings left over. But on the other hand, it's significantly more difficult to get over someone who never hurt you. I have literally no bad memories of Kelton. No bitterness that I can utilize to remind myself why I don't have him in my life anymore. I just have all the wonderful times that I miss so badly. And with a breakup, I could still talk to whatever jerkface it was, but in this situation... he's just gone. Completely. And my heart is having a hard time comprehending why someone so close to it just up and disappeared.

I'm feeling the healing happening. I know because sometimes I'm really sad and I cry. Or I will get so angry at Kelton for driving like an idiot and getting himself killed. Or I can be totally okay with it all and return to normal life. And because I have experienced loss before, I know that I prefer to deal with it alone, I like to stay very busy, and that I do something dramatic with my hair. All of which have occurred in the last few weeks.

I started writing out our story. I tried to write down every memory I had of him, in order. But the hardest part to write was the funeral,  because once I got past writing about his death, I didn't want to write anymore.  I felt like everything that really mattered had been said.
The funeral was the easy part of all this. The hard part was going back to real life again- walking into my apartment and putting my things down and realizing I had to go on with life again, as if he hadn't died. And so I do. I continue on with life, missing my best friend everyday. I always just remind myself that there has to be someone else out there for me, someone equally as awesome, because I knew from the beginning he wasn't mine to keep. But there will never be another Kelton Zundel.

I Dream of Aprons.

So, Utah is an odd place. And I fully intend to make a post about how freaking odd it really is, but right now I just want to focus on the fact that I now live in a much more populated area, that is also in proximity to a major city. And with this proximity and population there is alot of opportunity here that was not present in lil' old San Angelo. Not even as much as in an even bigger or more popular city, just more than San Angelo.

Well, at my beauty school (that I have to reattend to get my license in Utah), we get alot of "Guest Artists" who come to teach us new techniques and sell us products, tools, ect. One thing I have noticed about these artists is that they all talk about and profit and moving up in the world, and I don't see anything wrong with all that. Except I realized it really isn't something I care about.

Monday night we had a Redken artist (for those who are hair illiterate, she worked for one of the most presigious hair companies), and she was absolutely the sweetest lady ever, but she talked about money and how she had worked on celebrities, and everyone in the classroom wanted to know how to become a Redken artist. As I listened to her talk, and I have felt this many times before with other teachers too, I felt as if I HAD to become a rich stylist with high profile clients or else I would be a failure as a hairdresser. And I think that I felt that way because that is that standard that all stylists are held to- the closer you are to that, the better stylist you are!

I don't doubt my ability to make it to the big leagues as a stylist. I really think I could if I wanted to. But at that moment that I felt that pressure to be a wealthy stylist, I got very sad. Because if I did set that as my priority, it would mean all the other things I want to do, such as get a degree, marry, and have a family, would have to take a backseat. So, as my evening wore on, I sat there conflicted. The world tells me I should want to be a wealthy stylist, while, honestly, I don't think I want that. Don't get me wrong, the money and nice things and attention would probably be awesome, but at the same time, it means working long hours, travelling, and alot of responsibility, leaving very little time left over for the things that I feel REALLY matter.

Then that night I had this dream, and I feel like I disclose too many of my dreams to you blog readers, but I have found they really tell me things about myself. I don't think it's so much in a spiritual or vision related sort of way, just that my feelings manifest themselves wierdly in my dreams and since I remember my dreams so well, I can use them to figure out things about myself. Anyways, in this dream of mine, I always wore cute aprons. I had all these checkered and plaid aprons that I wore everyday, and I liked them. Well, I decided to try for a part in a movie, and so for some reason someone gave me a makeover basically and threw away all my aprons and I had to wear different, "better" clothes. And I missed my aprons, they were part of who I was. And when I saw my family, they all missed my aprons too, because they liked the Alisha who wore the apron.

Almost all hairstylists aspire to become rich and famous, or own their own salon, and I don't think there is anything wrong with that idea. But I think that I will be happiest in a nice little house, with my averagely paid husband and adorable kids...wearing my aprons.

Burrito.

(For those who don't know me or my blog very well, Kelton is NOT Sunshine's birthfather.)


It was a typical Thursday night, and I showed up to Institute early as always for dinner. I don't remember what we ate, but I was wearing skinny jeans, my stud belt, a flowery black tank top and cardigan. I remember when Kelton walked in, wearing jeans and his A Day To Remember tshirt and looked utterly adorable. He was so happy and upbeat. I kept sneaking peeks up at him when he wasn't looking, and hoped he noticed me the way I was him. We then had class and afterward I hoped he would stay to play Scrud, but he took off pretty quickly. For the next week, I couldn't stop thinking about him. I couldn't remember his name, but my friend told me and I looked for him on Facebook but couldn't find him. On Sunday, I even went to his ward and hoped he wold be there but he wasn't. The next Thursday I went to institute with high hopes, and he was there! But this time he stayed to play Scrud. During the game we talked a little bit, and he was so sweet and a ton of fun. The whole time, I was contemplating giving him my number, but I was so nervous that he would just think I was crazy. I'm not usually the type of girl to give my number to someone I don't know, but every piece of me was telling me to do it. So I took a leap of faith, and I will never ever regret it.

But last night I got a message on Facebook, telling me that Kelton had been in an accident and died. The message came at 7:40... And I had only just spoken to him an hour before on the phone. I thought it was a joke, I called his cousin and demanded that he stop messing with me, but he wasn't. Kelton was gone. My best friend, my Zookeeper Kid, my Burrito. I really am not sure how to describe him, because all these words sound so mundane, but I guess I will try because I never want to forget the things he taught me. Kelton showed me what a real man is. He loved me no matter what my body looked like and appreciated my talents and quirks and wierd things I did for no reason. I told him everything and listened when he told me his secrets. I could tell him any mistake I ever made in the past, and he never cared or judged me for it. He loved hearing about Sunshine, and I promised him he could meet her someday, although he never had the chance on this earth. He was the most dedicated person I have ever known, and if he said he was going to do something, he did it... even if he botched it up a little. ;) I'm not going to make Kelton out to be perfect, because he wasn't. He was very imperfect, and thats one of the many reasons I loved him so much. He reminded me that I could be an amazing person, even if I messed up sometimes. We could talk and communicate so openly, even about difficult subjects, and he would try to see from my point of view and never get angry. We never had a fight even when we disagreed, although that was still rare. I have never met someone so like me, yet so different. We had many of the same experiences and views of religion and life, and leaned on eachother spiritually whenever we felt inadequate. We were much alike in that we were realistic and undramatic. He impressed me by his talent and passion for music, seeing as I had none. Some of my favorite memories with him is watching him play or listen to music, and the look he had in his eye and the happiness he felt at those moments. He worked very hard at his job, the military, and in his relationships, and accomplished so much for a boy his age.

Much of our friendship took place over long distance, but he would call me every morning to make sure I got up for school, text me frequently during the day, and we would talk on the phone or Skype every evening.  I knew Kelton as a friend, a counselor, an inspiration, an example, a confidante, and the other end of my telepathy. I'm sad I only got to know him for the last 5 months of his life, but I'm grateful to have had at least that much, and I know I will see him again. I know he is up there with Heavenly Father and he still loves me, and I hope he has the girl that he deserves, because there was nothing he wanted more than a wife and children.

I miss you so much Kelton, and you set the standard high for every man after you. It's going to be a challenge for me to find someone who understands me like you did. Also, now that you're dead, I'm being all sappy and lovey-dovey (or at least as sappy as I can possibly get, you know I'm not the romantic type).
I love you times a billion!

Daddy!

Some time last year, I was sitting in church, quite a few months pregnant, and my dad was giving the talk. His talk was on priesthood, and I really don't remember much other than that, but seeing him up there, so powerful and filled with the spirit, made me realize I had to have that for my little girl. I realized that I couldn't imagine her growing up without a worthy priesthood holder as a father.

If I kept her, she would have a grandfather that had the priesthood, but her father would not. She would miss out on the opportunity for so many things, like Father's blessings and her dad baptizing her. It broke my heart to think that if I kept her she could not have those things. 

I think this was when I first truly and honestly started considering adoption, because my dad was such a huge part of my life, and I wanted her dad to be just as amazing as mine. So I placed Sunshine, and now she has a wonderful father named Jared, who is most definitely everything I had wanted for my little girl. He is a smart, kind, loving man who is completely devoted to God and his family.

So, this Fathers Day I would like to recognize these amazing fathers who are awesome examples to me and Sunshine. I love you and thank you for all your hard work, love, and devotion you show the women and children in your life!!!

 

 

 

The Birthfather.

I used to think I loved Sunshine's birthfather. And I think I maybe did in a way, but I don't know in what way that was. Because I didn't love him until I was about 4 months into my pregnancy and now, six months later, I don't love him at all. I've sort of struggled with it inside my head, I havent been sure if I loved him or not, and then last night I had this dream.
Somehow, he showed up in my house. I was laying on the couch and he was on the floor in front of me, and for some reason my arm was around his neck and my head resting on his. Then I realized what was going on, and I hadn't even seen him since Sunshine was born, so why was he here? So I stood up and walked away. He found me and talked to me a little bit, I told him I was moving to Provo and he said he knew. More than anything I just remember feeling nothing for him. Not hatred or anger or sadness or love or desire. Nothing. He was just another person, and I was okay with that. I went back to the couch, and he left without me noticing and I don't know where he went.
Now, I am over 1000 miles away, and I guess now that I am so far away I feel okay with talking about how I feel about him, because I probably won't ever see him again. And I've realized I don't love him. I never really loved him. Because love is not a desperate yearning for someone who will never reciprocate. It is not hormones or pregnancy or loneliness that create love. So what is love?
That is something I have contemplated alot lately, because I have been thinking alot about who I am going to marry. How will I feel about him? What kind of relationship will we have? How will I know he is the one?!?! I thought I loved her birthfather, but I didn't, so how can I ever trust my emotions? I hope someday soon I will figure out the answer to this, because right now it's all just up in the air. Everyone says "Oh, you just KNOW when he is the one." Well, I don't know yet so I guess he isn't around or I'm just not ready.
So did I love Sunshine's birthfather? I don't know if I ever loved him, but I sure thought I did. If, at any moment until I signed the paperwork, he had turned to me and said that he loved me and wanted to be with me, I don't know what I would have done. I like to think that I would have been strong enough to say no and still place Sunshine like I knew I was supposed to, but theres a piece of me who would have wanted to believe it so badly. That loved him and wanted him to love me back.
He never told me he loved me, and I think I was very lucky for that. I was never fooled into thinking there was a chance for us to be together. I was never manipulated by those words that pull in so many girls, though is it worse that I wasn't? Is it worse that I knew from the beginning that he didn't love me? Because I can never use that as an excuse, if it even qualifies as one. I can never play the part of the innocent girl in love who was tricked. I knew exactly what was going on.
I remember a moment right before we signed the paperwork, when just him and I were in the hospital room with Sunshine. He was holding her and I was sitting next to him. We had been talking, but for a few moments the conversation lulled, and he put his hand on my knee. It struck me at that moment how wrong it was for his hand to be there. Later on, I realized that he thought I belonged to him, just like he thought Sunshine did. I was just another one of his possessions, but he wasn't mine. He had always made that clear to me. I think back to that, and wish I would have realized then that I didn't love him. But I didn't and whether it was the drugs or the homones or the bodily trauma a had just endured, it took months for me to really see what that gesture meant.
I don't love him and I never did. Not in the true, timeless, wonderful love that results in marriages that last forever. Not in the way my parents love eachother or that I hope to love my husband someday.
I haven't seen him since the adoption, and I probably won't ever again. I see Sunshine sometimes, and I can see his features in her. She has his smile and dark hair, and I don't mind it. I even hope she grows up to have some of his artistic talent. No matter what, she is still the light of my life and the most wonderful baby ever!

The Most Wonderful Day EVER!

So I haven't posted in forever, because my life has been pretty much insane lately. I finished off my first year of college, finished working at Smartstyle, moved to Provo, and saw Sunshine again for the first time in 6 months. And all that happened in a week. Talk about exhausting. So I have spent the last few days sitting on the couch in my apartment watching TV. The last time I sat on the couch for more than ten minutes was when I was 9 months pregnant- and pretty much couldn't do anything except sit on a couch.
My whole family came up from Texas with me to move me in and see Sunshine. Now, in the LDS church, when families are married or sealed in one of our temples by the proper authority, we believe that they are together as a family in heaven after they die also. In most cases, once parents or families are sealed together, the children born to them afterward are automatically sealed. Well, in adoptive families, since the children are not born to the parents, they have to be individually sealed to the parents once the adoption is finalized. Jared and Amy were so wonderful and invited my parents to come to Sunshine's sealing to them. So we arrived at the temple just a little while before Jared  and Amy and I had the opportunity to see Sunshine before they went into the Temple.
It was so surreal, seeing her again in real life for the first time. It took a few minutes to sink in, and I just stood and looked at her for a few minutes, trying to believe she was really the baby I gave birth to. She was sleeping in her carseat, and i just touched her face just barely and she spit out her pacifier and gave me a half asleep little smile. And thats when I started bawling. I was so happy to see her again. It wasn't hard, or sad, or painful in any way for me. I was just happy. So happy that she was happy, and her family was happy, and I was happy. I told her I loved her, and then her family went into the temple to be sealed.
My sisters and brother and I just walked around the temple grounds for the next hour and a half or so and then we went back to Jared and Amy's for Sunshine's blessing and lunch. I was finally able to meet a bunch of Sunshine's family and friends that Jared and Amy had always talked about. I was really nervous and self-concious about meeting all these people. A concern that I have as a birthmother is people thinking I want Sunshine back. That is the furthest thing from the truth. I love her more than anything, but I also have a firm tstimony that she is Jared and Amy's daughter. So, much of the time I was concerned about not coming off like I was trying to intrude on their family.
Eventually most everyone left, but Jared and Amy had invited us to stay a little later and I was able to give Sunshine her first haircut! She was born with alot of hair, and it had grown like crazy for the last 6 months. It was such a fun experience. So many birthmoms are sad about losing out on experiences like that, and I appreciate so much how Jared and Amy involve me in Sunshine's life. They don't have to, and I would understand if they didn't, but they still do. And now Sunshine looks alot less scruffy, now that all the random long hairs are trimmed back!!!
My family and I got to play with Sunshine for a good couple of hours, and it was so wonderful! She is just the happiest, silliest, little girl. She is soooo ticklish and has the cutest smile. Anytime someone had a necklace on, she would grab it and try to eat it. She loves her big brother so much! It was so funny anytime he was around or you could hear his voice she would look for him, it was the sweetest thing! Sometimes, when she was sitting on one of our laps, she would throw herself backwards, and then sit up and then throw herself backwards again and giggle. It was such a long day for her, and she got very overly tired, but didn't want to stop playing! I took her up to her room and tried to rock her, but she just got really mad, so I laid her in her crib and sat down in the rocking chair. She screamed for another thirty seconds or so and then calmed down and rolled over. She just looked at me for a couple of minutes and I talked to her for a little bit. Then she laid her head down and was asleep in just a few seconds. To her, I was probably just another person tickling her and playing with her, but to me she was the world for those few hours.
We stuck around for a little bit longer, and just talked while my little brother and Sunshine's brother played, and then we said our goodbyes and left. It wasn't a sad goodbye or anything, because I know I will see them again, especially now that I live less than 2 hours away!
Seeing Sunshine again was pretty much the highlight of this week though, it was awesome. I was so suprised at how okay I was with it! I was so unsure of how I would feel. But I felt wonderful and happy and completely assured that I made the right decision  in placing her for adoption. She has everything I would have ever wanted to give her and more. I love her and her family so much, and I hope they all know it! And I hope they all know I am so greatful for everything they have done for her and me and my family.

 I think this picture is adorable!

 Her family after the sealing :)

First haircut!

Feelings.

I've started to feel guilty recently. Like, that I'm not involved enough with Sunshine and her parents. Like, that by going on with my own life I'm forgetting her and not keeping her as a priority in my life.
I was reading an old blog post, and I said "I'll never stop missing her, but I'll get used to it." And I realized that is exactly what has happened. I've gotten used to not being pregnant. I've gotten used to the idea that I had a baby and now she's out there going on about her life without me. And that's okay, I can go on with mine. I miss her, always, but I'm used to it and therefore I am a fully functonal human being with a life and a future.

But at the same time, I'm the kind of person who is pretty good at putting my emotions in a box and leaving them there. I just push them away and don't worry about it anymore. That's pretty much how I have made it through the first few months of Sunshine being gone. The worst part is, sometimes I lose that box, and I forget I even have those emotions so I just think everythings okay, until one day when I'm rummaging around in my mind I find that box, and I peek inside to see whats there...and out comes something I'm not prepared for.
And I feel one of those moments coming on right now. I avoid thinking about how I felt when Sunshine was born, or my life before that, or the few long days after it. Because I'm okay when I don't think about it to hard. I can tell you the whole story and be just fine, but if you want to know how I felt when it happened...you better find me some tissues.

Perks to being a Birthmother

So, everyone thinks being a birthmother is all depressing and sad, which it is sometimes, but there is a ton of amazing things about being a birthmother and I've been thinking about those things alot lately, especially since I've been feeling really okay.

Perk #1 - I have proof that I make super adorable babies. Seriously, she is so gorgeous!

Perk #2 - There is just something very fulfilling about sacrificing so much for someone. I am so proud of my decision and how it has effected her and I both. Although it was extremely difficult and emotional, I've come out of it with a strong sense of identity and confidence. I don't mean that anyone should get pregnant and place their baby just to have a "good life experience" but it happened to me unintentionally so I let myself learn from it.

Perk #3 - It sets me apart from most people I meet. I used to always wish there was something interesting or different about me, and now there is. I've experienced something that very few people have to experience, and that's wonderful to me.

Perk #4 - OPEN ADOPTION. Pretty much the most amazing thing ever. It has brought so many fantastic people into my life. Two of those being Sunshine's parents. They are so wonderful and I love them to death. Open adoption is basically like gaining a whole new family. And no one can have too much family!

Perk #5 - I have experience with being pregnant and having babies. Luckily, I had a super wonderful experience and will most definitely do it again. Like, 20 times. Yes, you heard it right, I want 20 babies. I'm going to beat the Duggars. (TOTALLY KIDDING. kind of.) But really, I loved being pregnant, minus the whole beiong unmarried and in school and working all at the same time.

Perk #6 - It's kind of a good boy-weeder. If a guy can't accept the fact that I have had a baby, then he isn't worth my time. The guy I'm going to marry is going to love me for my decision and won't mind Sunshine's existence or that I talk about her way to much. Now, on the other end of the spectrum is the guys who think that because I've had a baby, I'm easy. Well, that's not true, and they'll figure that out pretty quick.

Perk #7 - I get pictures like this one almost weekly. You just can't complain about that! :P

BABIES!

So, since I had Sunshine, I have been terrified of babies. I've never been a big babies person, some girls love to play with peoples babies and just think they're all so cute and wonderful. Me? Not so much. A baby is a baby to me, maybe because I am an oldest child and helped take care of Darby and Hunter when they were born so it's all just old news for me. Maybe just because I'm just not really all that maternal or because I'm intellectual and babies aren't so much.  I don't know. I've just never been a baby person.

When I was pregnant, I became very interested in other peoples babies. I asked myself many times, "Can I see myself doing this? With my own baby? For an extended period of time?" It was kinda fun to think of how it would be if I kept Sunshine but at the same time I was terrified.  I never really liked babies before, what made me think I could like one now?  Would it just drive me crazy trying to interact with something that couldn't do anything for itself? Would I get frustrated that I had to do everything for her? Babies are hard work, and I was well aware of it.

Then I had Sunshine, and taking care of her in the hospital is pretty much the highlight of my life so far. I was so suprised at how maternal I really could be! I loved Sunshine so much and I was completely wrapped around her finger, if she made even a peep I would come running. She was so cute! I think I did a pretty good job of taking care of her for my 48 hours, and I have no idea how it would have been in the long run, but I like to think I would have been a great mother to Sunshine. No matter what, I loved her to death and she was and still is the most beautiful, wonderful, adorable baby ever born on this earth.

Now I come to my fear of babies, which I have just recently conquered.  I was afraid of babies ever since I left the hospital for fear of having a complete meltdown from missing Sunshine. Thank goodness no one I knew had a baby in the few weeks before or after I had Sunshine, and somehow I never came in contact with any that I knew had been born recently. I was really anxious about it, just because I wasn't sure how I would feel - whether I would be upset, or happy, or just not care.  One time right after I went back to work a girl came into the salon who had a baby about the same age as Sunshine. I didn't know the girl and didn't get a good look at her baby but I went in the back and cried a little, but mostly out of fear of that little person in the car seat. Utter fear that if I saw the baby I would fall apart. She left and I never had to confront it, but sometimes I wonder how I would have felt if I looked in the car seat. Would I have seen Sunshine looking back at me?

Just a few weeks ago, I went to my friend Liz's house. Liz is a birthmom also, except she placed her baby about 4 years ago.  She is now married and has 2 kids, her youngest being a girl 2 months younger than Sunshine.  I had just walked in the door when her son was throwing a fit and her girl crying a little. While she was dealing with her son, I picked up her daughter. I held her for a minute, expecting a flood of memories and tears....and nothing. Yeah, she was an adorable baby, but I felt no longing for Sunshine like I thought I would. I didn't start crying or hurting and I pretty much felt the same way about this baby as I did with babies before mine.  My fear was conquered.

I've come to the conclusion that I love my baby, but other people's not so much. I might be a shame to the female gender for not loving everybody's babies, but thats just how it is.  Nobody else's baby is as awesome as mine, so I guess I just don't feel the same way about them. (That was a joke...kinda.) And maybe it's partially cause most babies I see don't look to much like Sunshine - alot of the babies at my church are light skinned, blonde and mostly bald. Sunshine is part Hispanic, and so she has darker complexion and a ton of dark brown hair.  So I don't even relate them inside of my head. 

I still wanna have more babies, probably like 5 or something, (with my husband obviously) but they're going to be MY babies, with my genetics, and I will love them just as much as I love Sunshine. But until then, I am perfectly happy loving my baby and nobody else's!!!! :)