Baby Blues Are All Grown Up

Well, here I am. I survived the first three months (otherwise known as the "fourth trimester"). Which means the worst of it is behind me.
Poor Kimball had a rough go of it in the beginning. Honestly, I'm not positive that we ever figured it out! Since birth he had awful tummy trouble. He was always super gassy and just miserable, poor buddy. I tried cutting back on chocolate and didn't see a difference. Gas drops didn't seem to touch it. Around 2 months we started taking him to the chiropractor. I think that helped a lot, but it was also around that time that I stopped feeding him lying down at night. I didn't realize for a few more weeks that that had an effect on him, but when I would occasionally stay in bed to feed him he would always be in pain for a few hours. So by the time we got that all figured out, he was hitting the age where babies tend to grow out of it anyways. He still has problems every once in a while, but the chiropractor taught us a few ways to massage him and that always helps!
And now, Kimball is my little angel. He brings so much peace and light to my soul every day. He smiles and laughs at me like I am the greatest person in the whole world. And my favorite part about that is that babies don't pretend. He really thinks I'm the center of the universe, and I love it.
So you'd think that everything would be better. But it's not. My baby blues refused to be ignored this time. They've grown into the elephant in the room. That's right, PPD has got me.
I've got a lot of personal stuff going on that is majorly contributing. I can't get into the details, but it's been a rough year for my family. I feel like I'm being bombarded on every front. My emotional and spiritual reserves are completely depleted. At the end of every day I am worn down to my core. I feel like it is all I can do to keep my head above water, and some days I don't even succeed at that.
This week, for the first time in my life, I asked to be released from my church calling. I was so nervous, but after a lot of thought and a lot of prayer I felt like it was the best decision for me and for our family right now. Still I worried that I wouldn't be able to explain everything right and that my bishop would think I was being lazy or losing my testimony. Instead, he nodded his head and said "Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry you're going through this." He asked me about my experience with depression and my family'a history with it. He told me to take care of myself and to know it was ok to ask for help. He told me not to worry about being released and that they'd take care of it immediately. I couldn't believe how wonderful it was to be understood, to be met with sympathy, and to be reassured that this is the right decision. I need to focus all my energy on my family and my own testimony right now, and there is no shame in that.
I often feel defeated. Palmer watches way too much tv. Kimball naps in his car seat on the dryer because it's the only way he'll sleep more than 40 minutes during the day. Derek has had to resort to cold cereal or leftovers for dinner more times than I care to admit.
And then there are the days where I feel like I can do it all. I clean the house, I go for a run, I meal plan and vegetable prep and do flashcards with Palmer. I try so hard to do all the things that I know will make me happy, but some days I just. can't. Even though I know it will help, I can't seem to make myself fix my hair and get dressed and get out of the house. I walk through the grocery store on the verge of tears for no apparent reason. I just hurt. I feel soul sick.
But I do think it's getting better. Actually, the more I acknowledge it, the better it gets. I don't ever want to use my depression as a crutch. I don't want people to think I'm trying to get a free pass to not do the things I'm supposed to do. But being able to recognize this as a real thing--and having other people recognizing what I'm dealing with--allows me to offer myself a little grace. I know I can't do it all, no matter how badly I want to. And as I cut myself a break, I find healing. Sometimes cutting myself a break means allowing myself some personal time to exercise and shower. Sometimes it means letting Palmer skip his nap and watch another hour of tv so that I can sleep. And sometimes it means skipping the gym, skipping the meal plan, and reading every book on Palmer's shelf as many times as he wants. The point is that I'm doing the best I can. And since that is enough for my family, it's enough for me. I will make it through this. And I will come out stronger than ever.

90/10

It's maybe not a great idea to blog in the midst of my Baby Blues. But I want to be honest about this time in my life. As great a thing as euphoric recall is, I don't want to look back and think, "Oh, having a newborn is nothing but PERFECTION!" Because...it IS perfection...plus or minus a whole lot of hormones. 

90% of the time I'm doing great. Because Derek's mom was able to be here the first few days, and Derek has been home since, I've actually been extremely well rested compared to most new moms. Yes the baby gets up every hour or two during the night...and sometimes he STAYS up for an hour or two in the middle of the night...but I've been able to take plenty of naps. And actually, the last few nights, Kimball has given me several 3 hour stretches. Those have been heavenly! 

Having Dee Ann here helped in more ways than just getting naps. Twice I took Kimball to her in the middle of the night when I couldn't get him back to sleep for a while. All day long she cooked and cleaned and shopped for us and played with Palmer. She is a saint, and I don't know what we would have done without her!

The night before Dee Ann left, Austin came up. He got to stay until Monday morning, and that was a huge help too. Everyone--including himself--was worried that having so many visitors would be too stressful for me, and while it is a little stressful to have company, it does me so much good. Feeling like people want to celebrate this monumentally special event with us just boosts my heart, and Austin is some of the best company there is. We had such a fun weekend hanging out with him and I'm so grateful he came. 

My recovery has gone really smoothly for the most part and I feel great. I was actually shocked at how well it's gone because I felt like it wasn't even bad the first time around--and this time it's going better AND faster!

Palmer has done even better than expected. He loves his little brother and beams with pride every time he holds him. He's constantly fetching binkies and blankies and alerting us when he cries (and only occasionally throwing balls "to" the baby's face...). He doesn't seem to be jealous at all, and has even done really great with his normal naps and bedtime for the most part--although we've had a bad night here or there. He's doing awesome, and I'm so proud. 

And I feel like I was so much more prepared this time around. More prepared for the lack of sleep, yes, and for the constant feedings and oh-so-necessary burpings and diaper changes, but even more I feel grateful that I kind of knew what to expect when it came to baby blues, as opposed to being blindsided by it like I was with Palmer. That knowledge has definitely come in handy. 

But...

Then there's the other 10% of the time. 

10% of the time, my body is completely exhausted from what it just went through and the effort it's exerting to heal itself. (By the way, after-pains are no joke. I know my labors are atypical in their progression and relative painlessness--so maybe this is revenge?--but the after-pains for the first three days as my uterus contracted back down were so much worse than the contractions during either of my labors! For those few days I HAD to have a heating pad on my back and ice on my stomach every single time I nursed, and once I actually burst into sobs because the pain was so bad I almost threw up. Luckily they've finally subsided. But what the devil.) And nursing hurts. And even though I'm doing GREAT comparatively...I did just have a baby. My body isn't exactly in perfect working order, and that's hard. 

10% of the time I'm filled with guilt and stress over my boys. Palmer may be doing awesome with this whole change--but I'm not. I expected him to be a little needy and constantly wanting my attention, but instead he seems less interested in my company than ever before. I have to beg him to sit and read with me, and the only cuddling I get in is when he's already passed out for the night or we're watching some Little Einsteins. The hormones have made this really difficult--I've shed countless tears over the "loss" of our special relationship, even though I actually know that things will be fine and that we'll find our new rhythm soon. I know these things. But it doesn't stop me from hurting. 

I've also felt an incredible amount of guilt and worry over the fact that my bond with Kimball wasn't as instantaneous as with Palmer. I always thought that when my second child was born I would automatically understand how it is that you can love two children equally, despite the fact that you've had two years of loving just the one, more than you love anything in the world. And...I was wrong. That understanding hasn't been automatic for me. It's been confusing. I've really struggled with the difference in their births as well as their first days of life. When Palmer was born, all the emotions were intense and extreme. Lots of HIGHs, and lots of LOWs. With Kimball, everything has been more in the middle of the spectrum. This has been good because the lows haven't been as bad...but I feel guilty that the highs haven't been as high, either. Everything is just calm, and smooth--which sounds ideal! And yet it depresses me sometimes. 

And then there are the random thoughts and fears and worries, that I always know right away are due to hormones. Knowing helps--it really does--but it doesn't make the fears feel any less real. I worry about always being lonely. About always being depressed. About feeling like the day-in and day-out of caring for little children is pointless. I worry about how this is going to be my whole life...and then I worry because I know it won't. Someday this will be over, and then what purpose will I have? I worry about just plain old boredom, which I know from experience is sometimes the plague of a SAHM. I worry about how bad days are inevitable. 

But keep in mind--this is just the 10%. When it comes, I pray. And then I talk to Derek. I cry. I express my concerns. And he comforts me, and I realize why I don't really need to worry about any of those things. And I move on. 

I've also learned to combat it in small ways. While righteous living by no means makes us exempt from hard times, depression, etc., I know that the spirit can still do a LOT for us in the midst of those experiences. On the days when I begin with a prayer, listen to a talk, read the scriptures, turn off the tv and turn on the Mormon Channel for my entertainment, I do so so much better. Having the spirit in my home is a protection against these bad moments for me. It makes them less frequent and less impactful. It doesn't make them disappear. But it makes them bearable. 

This is life during the postpartum period. I told Derek last night that I'd like to make it through just one day without crying. I know I will soon. And I'm grateful to be living a 90/10 life and not a 50/50...or a 10/90. To all my friends who have struggled with depression, postpartum or otherwise, my heart goes out to you. I pray for your healing and happiness. Also...this should help:

Kimball's Birth Story

I think I'm breaking all sorts of records by posting this just ONE WEEK after Kimball's birth! The truth is that I kind of feel like there's not much to tell, but I want to tell it anyways. Blogging is ever-increasingly my only form of journaling, and writing has always helped me process things. So I wanted to come here and share my thoughts on my sweet boy's birth. 

I have to start by saying that I'm still working on accepting Kimball's birth for what it was, and not being sad about what it wasn't. It wasn't the same as Palmer's birth. And that fact has gnawed at me a little, because Palmer's birth was so perfect. I had hoped for the same feelings to be there this time around, but the fact is that it was different. 

I'll start with the "stats". At 36 weeks I was 70% effaced and dilated to a 2. At 37 weeks I had progressed to a 4 and was 90% effaced. As with my first pregnancy, all of this was happening without me feeling any painful contractions. This is such a huge blessing, but the downside to it--and to the fact that I was induced with Palmer--is that I had no idea what to expect out of labor. I didn't know if I would go into labor that day or be sitting at a 4 for the next three weeks. Either was possible. But as anxious as I was to have he baby and have the pregnancy be OVER, there were conflicts. Derek was still in school and would be pretty much until my due date. His mom was in Connecticut, my mom was camping, and our in-town babysitters were out of town! So I was told not to have the baby, basically every day for the next two weeks. At 38 weeks I hadn't progressed at all and although that isn't unheard of by any means, I truly believe it was only because we were praying this baby in. But I had a feeling--and so did Derek--that he would make an appearance at the beginning of the next week. 

At my 39 week appointment I was 5.5 centimeters dilated, and the amniotic sac was bulging, ready to burst. Still hadn't felt a thing, other than frequent Braxton Hicks (non-painful) contractions. My doctor told me to be ready for anything--and not to wait an hour before going to the hospital if my water broke or if I started having contractions. 

That night around 9:30 I felt like my BH contractions were getting even closer together, so I timed them for a couple hours. They went something like 3 minutes, 7 minutes, 2 minutes, 10 minutes. Around 11:00 they started to become really uncomfortable, but only every thirty minutes or so. At 12:30 I decided that if I had three more "painful" ones within the next half hour, I would wake Derek up and see what he thought about going to the hospital. Those three contractions came roughly nine and a half minutes apart, barely making my deadline. When I woke Derek up we decided to call our babysitters and go. 

As Derek got things ready, I went into Papmer's room, picked him up out of his crib, and rocked him one "last" time, before things changed. It was really emotional for me, and Derek came in to find me sobbing that I still wasn't ready. He comforted me and I put Palmer back in his bed, and we headed off to the hospital. 

Truthfully, I felt stupid as we drove through town. My contractions had slowed down again and I was 90% sure that we'd get there and they'd tell me that nothing had changed and I was just another woman who'd gone in for false labor. 

The sweet nurse who checked me said I was still at a 5.5, but that I was having contractions much more frequently than I thought--I just wasn't noticing because they weren't painful, except every twenty minutes or so. She called my doctor and he told her to have me walk around for an hour before admitting me. 

So here I am, "trying to walk it off" as a funny old man in the hallway commented:

Also, yes, I'm huge, and yes, Kimball was sitting LOW. Every nurse who checked me had to comment on that and wondered how on earth my water hadn't broken yet. 

After an hour of walking--and snacking, thanks to Derek's McDonald's run--I was at a 6, and officially admitted to the hospital. 

Paperwork and getting settled in a delivery room took us to 5:30 am and 8 centimeters. I had had a few majorly painful contractions by this point, albeit fifteen to twenty minutes apart, and so I requested my epidural. I got it around 6:20. 

The post-epidural glow. Hospital lighting may also have had something to do with it. 

My doctor was slated to come break my water around 7:00 but actually didn't make it until 7:40. The epidural had (predictably) slowed things down a little, so I wasn't much past an 8. I continued to rest as well as I could over the next hour or so, and then my nurse said, "Um, I think it's time." She seemed in a rush, but my epidural was working so well that I could barely feel the pressure of Kimball bearing down. Luckily my doctor made it in plenty of time, and as soon as he sat down I started to push. 

Pushing this time around was so different. Everyone was confident that it would only take me a few pushes and we'd be done. But my epidural was stronger than with Palmer, and it was harder for me to gauge things. I actually had to watch the monitors for my contractions so I would know when to push, and my contractions were still very inconsistent. I was doing really well though, and my doctor said, "One more push and we're there!"...and then I didn't have another contraction for SEVEN minutes. It was so strange and honestly, awkward. Everyone was just...waiting. We had to make small talk. Small talk during the delivery of your child is very weird. But eventually the contraction came, I used all the strength I had in my "haven't slept in over 24 hrs" body, and Kimball--my boy with THICK, BROWN HAIR--was here. 

Madison Memorial is a great hospital, and they immediately set him on my stomach for skin to skin as they cleared his airways, cut the cord, and cleaned him up a little. I had some tearing, right over my scar from Palmer's birth, so Dr. Watson stitched me up while we cooed at Kimball and marveled at his size. 

So now we come to my thoughts on his birth. I've been processing all week. The truth is, I have so much to be grateful for. Kimball's birth was relatively painless. The entire experience was calm and peaceful. And most importantly, my beautiful boy got here without any complications, whole and perfect. What more could I ask for, really?

I think we have a tendency in our society to glorify birth just a little too much. Don't get me wrong--it is absolutely the most beautiful thing I've ever been through. It's incredible. There is so much that goes into this experience--so much feeling, so much work, so much spirit. 

But birth--like motherhood--was never meant to be nice and neat and perfect. In some ways it is perfect--and I can't think of anything more perfect than Palmer's birth, so I have a hard time not comparing the two. But I think we do ourselves no favors by setting up enormous expectations for our labor and delivery experience. It's easy for me to blame the natural birth "community" for this--and please don't hate me for saying that. Natural birth has become more appealing to me than ever in the last few months, and don't be surprised if I go that route with my next. But I find it's often the natural birth "junkies" who are the proponents of the idea that birth must be on our terms, that everything must point to this moment and that this moment must be our crowning glory (pardon the terminology). 

In an ideal world, it would be. But what about the women who end up with emergency c-sections? What about the woman whose baby is born with a terrifyingly low pulse, or an inability to aspirate immediately? Or the woman who hemorrhages so badly that they have to immediately attend to her and she doesn't get to hold her baby for hours? I think by setting up all these expectations for a beautiful birth, we really hurt the mothers who don't get that. They spiral into postpartum depression because from the moment their baby came, things just didn't. go. right. 

I was dissatisfied by the lack of focus in the delivery room. I was surprised to not feel my heart about to burst with love for him, the way it was with Palmer. We didn't cry. We kind of just said, "Hey, little guy! You're here!" I was disappointed and confused that it wasn't an ultra-spiritual experience. 

I think the fact that I had been praying every day not to have this baby yet--that Derek was so stressed in the last few weeks before he came--and that I still didn't really believe I was in labor when we left my house that night all played into my feelings that morning. I also think that I expected to be struck with awe at the miracle of childbirth like I was the first time--and as beautiful and great as it all was, it didn't AMAZE me the way I thought it would. 

But as time passed that day, and in all the days since, my love for Kimball has really blossomed. And I think I needed to have this experience so that I could sympathize, on some small level at least, with all the women whose births didn't go as planned, and who didn't feel an instant connection to their baby, and who felt incredibly guilty about all of that. 

Don't you worry though--Kimball has stolen my heart. He is growing on me, every single minute. I love this dear little boy and feel so complete with him in our family. It doesn't matter how he got here--he's here and he's ours and he's perfect. What more could I ask for?

To Palmer

I snuck into your room to hold you one last time before everything changed. 

Truth be told I've been doing this a lot lately. My heart has ached during this pregnancy to know the changes that we're facing. I've never had a doubt that you would be the best big brother in the world. But I have to acknowledge that we're losing something here--even though we're gaining so much more. 

I want you to know. I want you to know that my love for you is so unique. It has filled my heart for these 22 months. No one else has shared it. We have such a special bond, and I'm scared that when you grow up you won't know how crazy I am about you. I'm scared you won't know that you are special to me in a way that no one else ever can be. 

I know that I'll love all my children equally. And sometimes that's actually what bothers me. How could I ever love someone as much as I love you? It wouldn't be right. I've come to realize that my love for each of my children will be individual. It will be equal, but it will be different. 

So instead of saying I love you most, I have to say I love you different. 

But before he comes...I still get to say I love you most. So I've taken every opportunity I can lately to do that. I've ended every day hoping I'd have just one more day with just the two of us. And I've snuck into your room countless times to hold you and tell you that you're my baby, and that I love you more than you'll ever know. 

And this was the last time. When my contractions started picking up at 1:00 in the morning, I had your dad call the babysitters and finish packing our suitcases. I pulled you out of your crib and into my arms and I held you and just sobbed for the next twenty minutes. I just kept thinking, "I'm still not ready. I'm not ready to lose my baby." Even though I knew I wasn't losing you...it was the end of an era. 

I suppose this all seems incredibly dramatic. Maybe it is. But I long for you to know that these two years have been the best of my life. There is a reason that you came into our family first, and part of it is that we both needed these special years together. 

Thank you, my sweet son. My sweet Palmer. Thank you for filling my life with joy. We're both losing something now, but we're gaining so much more. And even though I didn't feel ready that night, we are ready now. Our family is growing, and as it grows, our love for each other will multiply. 

And it's going to be better than we can imagine. 

Missionary Packages (October 2015)

My little brother, Taylor, is currently serving a mission in southern Texas. Taylor will spend the next two years in this area sharing the gospel of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. While he's on his mission, he is only permitted to call home on Christmas and Mother's Day. The rest of the time we only correspond by email or snail mail. 

Derek's sister Hannah, is also serving a mission. Young women who serve missions for our church are only gone for a year and a half. Hannah has been in Kirtland, Ohio since February. 

As you can imagine, I miss my younger siblings! They are some of my best friends in the world, and it's hard to have them gone, especially to think of all they are missing out on in Palmer's life. But I am so grateful for the work they are doing. I know they are serving the Lord with all their hearts, and so many blessings will (and have already) come of it. 

A couple weeks ago I put together a fun package for each of them. Missionaries LOVE getting mail, and packages are even better :) 

I got the idea from this blog, but I tweaked it quite a bit, so I thought I'd share my version of it here with you. Feel free to copy and/or adapt it for your missionaries--I know they'll love it!

The theme for this package comes from a talk by President Hinckley that was published in the 2000 (?) Ensign. In it he talked about the ten gifts every missionary should get from their mission. Each gift for Taylor and Hannah has a matching envelope. On the front I wrote the number and name of the gift. 

On the back of the envelope was a little phrase that tied in the treat or gift I had for them with the gift that President Hinckley spoke about. 

(Apparently I never took a picture of #6! It said something about the Holy Spirit always coming to your "aid" as long as you're worthy :))

Inside each envelope was a quote from the talk. 

Here's what the finished product looked like. 

(Taylor's)

(Hannah's)

I haven't heard from Hannah yet, but Taylor got his package last week and it's safe to say he's elated :) I had so much fun with this little project and it lifted my spirits to know how much it would mean to them! They are both such astoundingly great people--I'm so blessed to have them in my life :) 

I hope you can use this for your own missionary! If you do, let me know how it goes!

What You May Have Missed (April-September 2015)

Last April, Derek and I made a sudden decision to move to the Bay Area in pursuit of our millions (aka, doing summer sales). The sales didn't go all that great...but California was pretty awesome! Here follows a hundred pictures (approximately) illustrating our adventures on the coast.


We started with a stop in St. George to celebrate the anniversary and hang with the fam. Oh, and to celebrate National Grilled Cheese day. Which is a real thing. We Monnetts know how to party.

We made every kind of grilled cheese we could think of and then voted on our favorite. The winner? Cream cheese, sharp white cheddar, fresh tomatoes, and Tony's. 

Derek and I spent the morning in Zion and Palmer spent the morning at Nana's :)

We got to go to my nephew's baseball game while we were in town, and Palmer loved it!

This is while Palmer was learning to sit up--we surrounded him with a little buffer to minimize the head banging :)

And then we were off to San Ramon! Dalton was such a sport and drove our van for us so that Derek and Palmer and I could all ride together. That way we made WAY less stops because I was able to get Palmer bottles and snacks on the road. When we got to our apartment we were stunned! San Ramon is such a gorgeous (and wealthy) area. We were so lucky to live there. The view from our balcony was amazing!

One of our first Saturdays in town we hit up Muir Woods for a little hike. I was a little disappointed by the size of the redwoods (they get MUCH bigger the further north you go, and that's what I'm accustomed to), but it was absolutely beautiful!

After a few weeks we finally made it to the beach with some new friends from our ward! The plan was to head to Santa Cruz for a day, which turned into an afternoon, which turned into an hour in Capitola and then some ice cream and cookies at a popular place in Santa Cruz. Palmer loved the sand!...a little too much.

Poor kiddo was sooo tired! This is also when we learned that if you go to the beach in Northern California, you don't wear (or probably even bring) a swimsuit. You wear capris and sandals (so that you can walk in sand and water) and a sweatshirt. Or two. 

We were lucky enough to have a few friends join us in California--the Borens! Unfortunately they lived an hour away in Modesto, but Aubrey and Hayes came out to see us! We tried to alternate weeks and have me go out to Modesto just as often, but I think Aubrey ended up doing a lot more driving than her fair share! Either way our visits were such a blessing! Making friends in California was really hard, so it was great to know I had someone not too far away. And Palmer and Hayes always loved seeing each other! Palmer was a little too touchy-feely for Hayes's liking, but they worked it out :)

Mother's Day :)

At the beginning of May I was able to fly to Salt Lake and then drive up to Rexburg to visit Spencer and Destinee and brand-spanking-new Samantha! I was so disappointed when I realized we'd be moving away before Destinee had her baby, largely because when I had Palmer she was one of my greatest supports! She was always good for an hour or two of chatting or taking the baby so I could nap and I had so looked forward to returning the favor when the time came. I'm afraid I wasn't much help on my short trip...but I did clip Samantha's nails when Destinee was too nervous to do it. Because by this time, I was of course, a total pro at motherhood ;)

Palmer was a little nervous about our first flight :)

One of my favorite parts about our return trip was the group of fifty Asian tourists who couldn't get enough of Palmer. I'm sure his picture is everywhere in China by now. They were just in love with him! The few who could speak a little English begged to hold him. I let them, but he wasn't a fan. 

My OTHER favorite part of our return trip was the guy waiting on the other side!! Derek picked us up at the airport and we spent the day doing a little San Francisco exploring. We went to the Pier, and that ended up being all we had time for, but it was a blast!

One of our weekend trips was to the Samuel P. Taylor State Park. We went on an awesome park, then headed to Stinton Beach. It was so nice and private! Probably because it was cold and full of sandcrabs, but Derek actually liked that part.

See look, I learned how to dress for the beach!

(Sand crabs. He never got tired of digging them up!)

Another weekend at Stinton. I will never get over Palmer's sailor outfit :)

He looks just like my nephew Ezra in this picture!

Aubrey and I took a little trip to Ghirardelli Square together one week. My memories of that day include a lot of figuring out where we were supposed to nurse these boys, how they would get naps, and other basic baby needs. But we had a ton of fun (and a ton of food!)

Another plus to California apartment living: pool time!

These boys!

You'll notice that about half the pictures in this post are of fun, California-specific adventures, and half are just pictures of Palmer. I mostly chose ones that I felt were milestones--or just really really cute. This one though, when I saw it in my photos, really squeezed my heart. It seems to capture a lot of what that summer was. Derek worked a lot--usually from 9 in the morning until at least 9 at night. I had a car most of the time, but not always gas money, so a lot of times it was just Palmer and me at home all day. There were good times and bad. And a bittersweet moment of every day was when I nursed Palmer to sleep at night. He would fall asleep in my arms and I would feel so relieved to be done with the work portion of my day--but also so sad to put my baby down and be alone for however many hours it took till Derek got home. A lot of times I would hold him for much longer than I needed to and just...not be alone. I hope that doesn't come across as too depressing. It was a hard time for me, but I just loved to feel this little boy of mine with his heavy breathing and deep sighs and know that I had a purpose.

Father's Day baked pineapple :)

Palmer's first time teething! Poor kiddo.

At the end of June I got to take a trip to St. George to see my little brother Taylor off on his mission. Palmer and I started to get really good at flying! It was so good to have the whole family together one last time before Taylor left for two years. But it was really sad to not have Derek there! Everyone missed him so much. 

Mom fail: Palmer got sunscreen in his eyes. I promise I took this picture AFTER spending at least ten minutes trying to clean his eye out. Poor baby :(

Last picture with Uncle Taylor!

And I always have to share the picture of me returning from my trip because I was always SO ready to get home to my hubby!

4th of July

Sleeping at church

 And then we were off again! But this time Derek got to come with :) We left for Salt Lake just before the 24th of July for the Allen family reunion. Our flight had crazy delays because something was wrong with the airplane. You can see the drop in our enthusiasm as time went on. Palmer was smart and escaped into a nap :) Our reunion, which Derek and I planned, was in Yellowstone. We had an amazing cabin in Island Park, and everything was just beautiful! It was fun to see how quickly Palmer warmed up to all the family. He was especially interested in anyone who shared food or read books to him :)

   

Samantha and Sam!

It was awfully windy, but the view was worth it!

And apparently on this trip, Palmer decided to grow up! Look at that boy!

The day we got back to California we headed straight for Santa Cruz for a little beach time. I have hardly any pictures of this day because I was so busy taking videos of the pod of dolphins, the sea lion, and the fifteen foot waves! It was such a crazy cool sight! 

I had to post this picture because a.) Palmer's face and b.) this was the day I met a dear friend of mine! I'd often go out to the little grassy area with Palmer on nice days (pretty much every day in San Ramon is a nice day. It's either nice enough to swim or nice enough to hang out on a blanket eating muffins). This particular day there was another mom walking around carrying a baby. She smiled at me and I made a bold decision--I said hi! Doesn't sound too bold...but I am the most socially awkward person ever, so saying hi was a big deal. I gestured for her to come sit with us and we got talking. Garima is from India, and we got to talk a lot about our different religions and experiences. I love her so much an am so grateful I met her that day! When the company Derek worked for decided they'd need us to move to a city about forty minutes away I was so disappointed because I had finally made a friend at my apartment complex. But Garima and I have stayed in contact ever since and I'm so glad we have.

This was taken on our final day with Aubrey and Hayes in California! We sure missed them after they left!

The company treated us to some tickets to an Oakland A's game. I was surprised at how stinking fun it was!! And what made it even better is that we beat the Dodgers! I may have only lived in the bay for a few months, but I basically consider myself a local now, so Oakland's my team ;)

Wait, what do you mean I'm wearing this shirt in almost every picture from last summer? You're crazy...

Palmer helping us move ;)

The new digs in Antioch!