Here Am I, Send Me

Often as disciples of Christ, we expect some trials, but nothing TOO hard. We know it rains on the just and the unjust, but, still, as an active LDS we know we're doing the right thing and what goes around, comes around right?

Well, not exactly. Bad things happen to good people. This we know.

But what about when we follow direct inspiration to do something the Lord wants us to do? After we make the (sometimes) difficult decision to do what the Lord wants and not necessarily what we want, shouldn't the "hard" end?

Obviously not. The scriptures and Church history are littered with prophets and apostles who, following the Lord's direction, were led directly into hardships, illness, and even death. Joseph Smith. The pioneers. Abinidai. And so on. Each doing what the Lord asked them to do...and it didn't get easier from there.

I've pondered this the last couple weeks as I've struggled with something so very personal. It is so personal that, even as outspoken as I can be, I've hesitated to even say it out loud for fear of offending someone or hurting their feelings because that is certainly not my intent. But as I was discussing this with a couple dear friends, I realized hard is hard. Your hard may be different from my hard, but it is still MY trial and challenge and everything that comes with it. And I also realized that I am far from the only one who has ever dealt with these not-often talked about feelings.

It deals with pregnancy and I know there are many who struggle with fertility and so this would be my "trigger alert" to not continue reading if it may upset you. I sympathize with that trial and challenge, my heart aches for those who long to have children or more children. That is a difficult challenge. However, that is not a challenge the Lord has given to me in this life and the one in this blog is actually the opposite.

For more than a year, my husband had mentioned that he felt like we should have another baby. I completely wrote him off. "Nope. I'm happy with the two we have. They're out of diapers, they play together, I don't miss getting up every 3 hours. Nope." He never pushed it but would occasionally drop the "I feel like there's one more up there for our family."

I wouldn't even consider it. I wouldn't even PRAY about it because I didn't want the answer. You see, I knew my husband was inspired because we had both talked about how we were both done with two kids. I knew HE didn't really want another child (like I didn't), but he knew the Lord wanted us to have one. And for more than a year I just said "Nope. Not even gonna pray about it. I'm not there yet." Knowing exactly what pregnancy and babies entail.

Finally, I came around to praying about it. Yes, I knew it was the what the Lord wanted. I wasn't excited, but I agreed to be obedient knowing that the Lord knew more about what He wanted me to be and what was best for our family. I trusted Him, but I was not excited. Three months later I was pregnant.

And SICK. My morning sickness kicked in the day we left for a 2-3 day trip up to Canada. Well, it was a work trip for my husband, which means I got 2 days of entertaining the kids by myself in an unknown city and hotel room...while barely being functional. My kids basically missed the last half of summer because I was laid up in bed with my crackers and Sprite. A trip through Costco had me eyeing each garbage can in case I needed to unload into it; those darn sample smells made my upper lip sweat. I refused to grocery shop for the next 2 months.

That alone, made it hard to be excited for this pregnancy. We told our kids pretty early, so they wouldn't think mommy was avoiding them as I spent most of my day in bed. Them being excited about the baby was the best thing about it for a looong time.

As time past, the severity of my sickness went away, but it was replaced by...just feeling like garbage. I'd get about two good hours out of the day, but the rest of the time, I didn't have energy to do much, didn't want to go anywhere, do anything, etc. The worst part was I never knew when it would kick in so I had great anxiety about going out anywhere. I read labor and delivery articles and I was like "Holy cow, I can't believe I'm doing that again. Whyeeee?" I thought about how this baby would be 4.5 years younger than Malcom, almost too far apart to be playmate. I got overwhelmed by the idea of trying to do everything I'm currently doing (including a new job I started the WEEK I found out I was pregnant)...plus keeping a baby alive and well.

During this time I got into a semi-serious car accident (not my fault). Our house got broken into. AND I had to get rid of my beloved dog as a direct result of this impending bundle of joy. I felt like my life was a country song. I was a bit angry, if not resentful.

And when you feel crappy, it's easy to stop praying and reading. Uplifting stuff just became...annoying. I was just annoyed. By everything.

"I was obedient, Lord. What gives? Why do I feel so awful about everything?"

I felt guilty, too. I knew there were thousands of women who would give anything to be in my place and so I felt guilty about not being excited. I know what a wonderful blessing children are, what a wonderful gift it is to be able to carry my own child. But I'd done it twice and I didn't want to do it again. Selfishly, it wasn't what I wanted (as wonderful as it is) and so I had trouble being grateful and excited when I knew I should be. Which led, honestly, to immense guilt, anxiety, stress, and some darkness.

People would say "Just look forward to the end result, holding that baby in your arms." And perhaps because it'd been so long since I've held my own babies, that just didn't work. I was worried I wouldn't feel that love for this baby that I knew I should because I wasn't excited now. I felt ungrateful. I felt guilty. But I had been obedient!

As I talked about these deep feelings with a friend, she said she had felt the same way during one of her pregnancies because she was SO sick for so long. As we talked more, I remembered that the Lord gives us things in life that turn us into the people He wants us to be. This pregnancy, this baby, THESE feelings were my challenge. My trial. While it wouldn't be for someone else, He knows me better than anyone and He knows this is what I need...for reasons I don't understand yet.

I expected immediate excitement and expected the Lord to make me feel happy...simply because I had been obedient. As I pondered the people who had immense challenges following their obedience, my mind traced back to the Savior. I was literally sacrificing my body for this child, He sacrificed His for all of us. I was giving up my life (again) for another person...this child that would require ALL of me. He gave up his life for all of us. And, perhaps, because I was doing it because it's what my Father wanted (and not what I wanted), it made the choice even more Christlike.

By doing this thing as He inspired, as hard as it is for me, I am becoming more Christlike...and with that a small piece of the Lord's plan for me was unveiled.

Had anyone suffered more than the Savior because He followed the will of our Father in Heaven? No. "Art thou greater than He?" No. But the thing that gave me the most hope, the thing that made me turn the corner was this realization: even Jesus asked that this trial be taken away. In the garden of Gesthemane, He prayed to His father: "Abba, Father, all things are possible unto thee; take away this cup from me: nevertheless, not what I will, but what thou wilt." -Mark 14:36.

Even the Savior struggled through his obedience at one point. That realization took my guilt away. It's ok to struggle through obedience. Even Christ had said basically, "I don't really want to do this, but if you want me to, I will."

I talked to some wonderful mothers who are friends of mine and several admitted to panicking a bit during pregnancy. Not sure if they could do it again. Not sure if would be a good thing. And every single one of them said, "I'm so glad we added that child to our family. What a blessing he/she has been." One friend, who had bigger challenges in pregnancy and family life than me, said, "I don't have any advice for you during pregnancy. I never resented pregnancy until this one. But as soon as they placed her in my arms, I loved her. That rush of love hormones come over me and hasn't gone away."

After realizing that I don't need to feel guilty for my feelings, that my Savior understands EXACTLY what I felt about being obedient (even if a bit reluctantly), my burdens have been lifted. I have been able to embrace feeling crappy without resentment. I have been able to be HAPPY. I have been able to enjoy it. Don't get me wrong, I know the sweet little pokes and prods within me will soon turn to painful jabs into my lungs and labor is never fun, but I no longer worry about not feeling that rush of love when this child arrives in my arms. I know I will. I know he will be an immense blessing of which I cannot even comprehend. I am grateful. Which is something I could not have said even a couple weeks ago.

And with that, another piece of the Lord's plan for me was revealed.

I started reading M. Russell Ballard's "Daughters of God" and while I couldn't bring myself to read about pregnancy and motherhood, I read the chapter on womanhood. He talks about the value women have to the Lord and his kingdom. Elder Ballard says this:

"If you are wondering if you make a difference to the Lord, imagine the effect when you make such commitments as the following:

"Father, if you need a woman to rear children in righteousness, Here am I, send me.
"If you need a woman to make a house a home filled with love, Here am I, send me.
"If you need a woman who will shun vulgarity and dress modestly and speak with dignity and show the world how joyous it is to keep the commandments, Here am I, send me.
"If you need a woman who can resist the alluring temptations of the world by keeping her eyes fixed on eternity, Here am I, send me."


That profoundly touched me. By working through my feelings, not letting guilt hold me back, and looking to the Savior, I realized I had said (by being obedient), "Here am I, send me." Furthermore, I realized that by trying work through what I was feeling, I FELT "Here am I, send me."

Just trust. Be obedient even when you don't understand, even when you don't want to. But don't just trust and be obedient in misery as I was for so many weeks. Struggle, work. Try to understand. Talk to trusted friends, study it out. As you do this, perhaps pieces of the Lord's plan will be revealed to you. Or, perhaps, just peace.

Snuggle Your Oldest, Warrior Child

Last night my four year old son had nightmares. He usually has episodes where he's inconsolable (for about an hour) once or twice a month. It's not fun for anyone. It's REALLY not fun now that his bed is back in the same room as his six year old sister, so she got a front row seat...at 10:30pm...to all the tears, crying, and screaming.

I laid down with my son in his bed, trying to whisper to him about happy memories from our recent trip to Disneyland hoping that the good thoughts would push out the bad and he could go back to sleep...or at least calm down. We lay there cuddling as I ran my fingers through his ridiculously shaggy hair (he is also afraid of hair cuts).

That's when my daughter, from across the room said, "How come you don't do that to me?"

"Do what?" I responded.

"How come you never get in my bed, snuggle with me, or scratch my head?"

I panicked. It was true. I couldn't remember the last time I snuggled with her at night.

I quickly reminded her of that time she got the flu last year and I spent 2 nights sleeping on the floor in her room to be close to her so I could help her right away.

That appeased her enough to drop it because she did remember (thank goodness).

But that's when I really thought about all the times at bedtime that she asks me to snuggle with her in her bed and my response is "No, you need to go to sleep" right before I give her a hug and kiss and shut the door.

To be fair to me, I don't normally get into my son's bed either, but with baby number three on the way, we are trying to break them of the habit of getting into our bed since we plan on cosleeping with the baby and I can't have my 4 year old kicking the baby in the face all night long.

As I sat there next to my sons bed (because a toddler bed just doesn't work for a toddler and expectant mom) I got honest with myself: I would've never done that for my daughter unless she was seriously sick. Not even for nightmares. I would've...and I have...told her "You're fine, go back to bed" so I can get back to my solitary, hopefully uninterupted grown up time, which as a SAHM the last few years, only happens after kids are in bed. So I can have some moments of sanity.

You see, my daughter is a warrior princess. She is no damsel in distress. She doesn't usually pretend to be Snow White or Cinderella, she likes to be the wicked witch or step sister. She likes to feel powerful (we're working on the idea that she can be powerful and kind...like Elsa). She is the first to throw a punch in a fight with her brother and she doesn't agree with ANYTHING unless she truly believes it. There is no convincing her. These are all qualities that will serve extremely well later in her life, but they sure make her hard to parent now.

She is sassy. She is strong. She is exhausting. And by 7:05pm, nice mommy (if I was nice that day) checks out and mean/impatient mommy checks in. And it's usually because of some of her antics. I just want to be done with her and her argumentative nature at bedtime. And, so, I don't feel like snuggling. Honestly, I just want to be rid of her (of both my kids) for a few hours before I tear myself away from Netflix to go to bed and then wait for the inevitable night-time wakings.

But I've been so, so wrong. In that moment when she asked me, "Why don't you do that for me?" I realized it didn't matter why I didn't snuggle her. This phrase came to mind, "Sometimes the people who need the most love ask for it in the least loving ways." She doesn't know how hard she is on me, all she knows is that she wants...needs...snuggles from her mama. And, in fact, I realized it had been a long time since she asked me, knowing that I'd say no. The few times that I did "snuggle," I literally laid my head on her pillow and said, "I'll stay for one minute." She was so starved for that time she greedily accepted...but I was so obsessed with getting my own time, that I couldn't force myself to do any longer.

Not even if she begged. "I'm making her stronger," I'd tell myself. "She's fine."

Don't get me wrong, I hug her, I kiss her, I tend her owies, I sit her on my lap (or near my lap) and read to her every night, we make up songs together, we dance around, I help her with her homework, and try to let her help me in the kitchen. But I come from family where, to quote Malcolm in the Middle, "Feelings are the F word." We are not particularly tender, we do not say "I love you" when we get off the phone (unless it's to my biological father). I do not hug my siblings; in fact, at a recent family photo shoot, my sister and I were forced to touch. It was weird and awkward...and totally showed in the photo. We love each other, but we do not show or express it unless it's by making fun of each other. We suffer from what we like to call "emotional constipation." My mother loved us, nurtured us, read to us at night, but she also told us to suck it up a lot (she was also a nurse) and left us to cry ourselves to sleep sometimes (as any parent knows is necessary sometimes), and a lot of other things that are probably a result of her being raised by very British/Victorian-ish parents.

I think by the end of the day, this "emotional constipation" comes out and I have nothing left to give my oldest, hardest to parent child. I knew this upbringing and background effected my parenting style and most of it I'm ok with as I've tried to find a good balance of showing my children love with huggies and kissies, but also tried to teach them they can't have everything they want...but refusing bedtime snuggles because I was SO done and wanted to binge watch Vampire Diaries? No. I realized that is something I was doing that I am absolutely NOT ok with. And so, tonight, I will snuggle her. I will snuggle her so hard. I will not let her think there is something more important or somewhere else I'd rather be in those moments. I will not let her think her younger brother is more worthy snuggles during nightmares than she is. I forget, she is only 6 years old!

My daughter will be strong, she will be able to deal with hard things. But she will also know that her mother loved her enough to crawl into her bed and snuggle with her because she needed me.

But probably not every night.

Kids Ruin Everything...Even When They Aren't There

I'm going to be honest (aren't I always): yesterday was really hard. My kids weren't behaving, I was cranky from a bad night the night before, I was stressed, anxious, feeling emotional, etc. You know the kinds of days where you pretty much spend the whole time yelling at your kids? And then they lash out at each other and you? Which causes more yelling? And then that all leads to mom guilt.

Stresssss.

I had an appointment scheduled in the evening and even though I thought it should seem like a good idea to get out the house and kidless for a bit, I didn't even want to go to that. I just felt...icky. But I went to my chiropractor/massage appointment in the evening (treating a car accident I got in a couple months ago). I finally got to a place where I thought, "This is what I need, some alone time. A nice massage."

But it didn't go very well. Apparently, despite my smallish baby belly (18 weeks), I am now too big to lay on my tummy. After about 30 minutes, I informed the massage therapist I needed to go on my side because I started to feel a rush of blood to my head, light headed, and nauseated. She was very nice and accommodating and so she rubbed me down on my side. But during that time, my mind just kept racing (and I still wasn't feeling very well, which causes me great anxiety...especially while being butt naked in front of an acquaintance). I could NOT relax. I could not recover. After a few minutes on my side, she asked me what I'd like her to concentrate on next and I just asked to cut it short so I could leave. My anxiety, discomfort, stress, etc. was getting the best of me.

"Kids ruin everything. Vivi and Mac are not even with me and I still don't get to enjoy a massage. Kids ruin things when they're not even there! I NEEDED that massage and now I can't even have it. This sucks." My cranky, depressing thoughts went on. "I'm not even a good mom. I don't even really like being a mom, do I? People say the adore their kids. I don't even like mine" thinking of the crappy things they'd done earlier in the day. Over and over I just kept thinking about how much being a mom sucks while I turned up my gangster rap on the way home.

I snuck into the house while Doug distracted the kids and he left me alone to sob like I needed to (a good cry always makes me feel better).

Happy Ending Part: After a relatively good night's sleep (and as a result of Doug's prayers for me, I'm sure), today I have had that feeling of just being in love with my kids (it was totally unexpected to me, too). I've been loving and appreciating their quirks, the chipped teeth, their big eyes, paying extra attention to what they were telling me, being patient. Adoring them. It's been a GOOD day. Nothing special. Just one filled with love and appreciation for who they are and having them in my life; the laughs they give me, the hugs they give, their unwavering love, the unrestrained excitement when reunited in the Y child care room after my 30 minute workout, and appreciating the fact that my kids trust and me completely, which leads to Vivi telling me about the mean girl at school and some emotional outbursts about being asked to pick up dog poop.

Here's my point in sharing: you're not alone in whatever you feel as a mom of young kids. Ups and downs are name of the game. You don't have to adore your kids every moment of every day...and you shouldn't feel guilty about it. Sometimes I really dislike my kids (I always tell them "I love you, but I don't like what you did). Sometimes I don't like being a mom. Sometimes I let my mind wander and imagine what my life would be like if I never had kids. That usually happens during a crappy day so it revolves around being able to come and go as I please, having extra spending cash, going on more vacations, etc. But, if I was level-headed in that moment (which I'm usually not), I would realize everything I'd have missed: popcorn night on the couch, ridiculous stories out of the mouths of babes, stick figure pictures that say "I luv you," unashamed hand-holding, sweet breath of sleeping babes, snuggles, being the only one who can cure owies, that moment when they realize mom's kisses doesn't actual cure owies, all the milestones, and more.

So don't feel guilty. Just remember every day is a new day to try again and young children have pretty short memories when it comes to mom's screw ups.

And a good night's sleep does WONDERS for everyone :)

Enduring (Well) Motherhood

A photo I took of topped tulips. Sometimes I feel like that.

I have been frustrated lately. You know those times when you get in a funk? Yeah, that's been me the last couple weeks. I realized that part of my frustration has been feeling a bit unfunfilled in "just" being a mom. In fact, I wrote a whole draft blog post about the conflicting feelings I have being and LDS mom (loving my kids, knowing it's the most important job in the world, etc) BUT...needing something else, too. This caused me to feel guilty! How could I want something else other than to do the most important job in the world? To be there every moment for the children God has entrusted to me? We prayed about me staying home (something I never really wanted) and both felt strongly that it was what the Lord wanted. So how I could I NOT want it?

I have...not easy children. I love them dearly. But they are both strong-willed, high-energy, one is really high strung, etc. We've been sick, we've had a couple disappointments, dad has been gone a lot, etc.

It was kind of a negative blog. Cathartic, but a downer.

I found myself pondering my rantings and I didn't like it. I thought, "Man, if I want something "more" why don't I just invest that time and energy into being a "more," better mom, homemaker, educator of my kids?" So last week I tried more. Just a little bit. I made a schedule of each day (one of my biggest struggles because each day is very different...yet very the same), planned ideas of things to do in case of "dull" moments so the whole day wouldn't be filled with tv (major source of guilt), etc and we had a more fulfilling week.

As I pondered this and other things, my mind turned to the idea of persistence. I turned to my scriptures but the word "persistence" does not really exist in them (that I could find).

However the word "endure" does. And that made me think of a talk by one of our LDS apostles all about "Enduring it Well". I was just enduring motherhood for the most part recently (sleepless nights, sick kids, misbehavior, etc). I can honestly say, I was not enduring it well. My whole focus for the last couple weeks about feeling unfulfilled was a testament of that. In fact, during a heated discussion, my husband pointed out "if something is a priority, you just make it happen" (what he was talking about wasn't kid-related). I got all riled up and told him, "Do you want to know what my priority is? Survival. I am in survival mode. Pretty much all the time. My priority is keeping our kids alive, fed, safe, whatever. THAT'S my priority. Survival." I was merely surviving as a mom...but yet I wanted something else. No wonder I was feeling so conflicted.

I was enduring. But, obviously, based on that conversation with my husband I was not enduring well. (We rolled over and went to sleep after that. After 10 years of marriage that is a tip I will give newlyweds every time: sometimes it's ok to go to sleep angry. Odds are you're both tired and cranky and won't remember what you're angry about in the morning.)

As I read my scriptures searching for more about "enduring well," I found this: "And it shall come to pass, that whoso...endureth to the end, behold, him will I hold guiltless before my Father at that day when I shall stand to judge the world." (3 Nephi 27:16)

GUILTLESS. That word jumped out to me. I had felt guilty about the things I wasn't doing as a mom that I felt I should. I felt guilty that I felt all I could do was survive as a mom. I felt guilty that I felt I wanted something in addition to "just" being a mom. And here it was in scripture saying that if I endured (and I'll add "endure well"), I would be held guiltless. I didn't need to be perfect. I didn't need to feel like motherhood was all I ever wanted.

In a way, I felt like my the Lord was validating my feelings while also saying, "Stay the course. I know how you feel."

I felt like He was saying, "I know what I've asked of you is hard. In fact, that's why I asked you to stay home. It's where you will learn the most. It's where your family needs you. I know it's not what you want necessarily. I know you want to do other things. I am not upset with you because you have those feelings. I know it's hard. I don't expect perfection, so do the best you can. Finish what we started, truly try your best, and everything will be just fine."

If the Lord will hold me guiltless, why shouldn't I hold me guiltless? I must try better at this...and if you're a mother like me, you must be, too.

And this one: "And blessed are they who shall seek to bring forth my Zion at that day, for they shall have the gift and the power of the Holy Ghost; and if they endure unto the end they shall be lifted up..." (2 Nephi 13: 37)

Lifted up. That's what I need. I needed to be lifted.  And in order to do that, I need to endure and endure it well. I need to not just survive this time (endure), but change my attitude and put more into it. Even if it's just scheduling our days better. Even if it's just being prepared with go-to indoor activities. Even if it's letting my desire to redo my bathroom go for a little while so I can sit and read to my son. I know these seems trivial, but for me as someone who can't sit still, who always feels like I need to be doing something productive (ie with visible/tangible results), it's a challenge.

In raising my children in the gospel, am I not seeking to bring forth Zion? Of course. And as I continue to do that, this scripture told me I am entitled to the gift and power of the Holy Ghost. So as much as I feel like I'm alone doing this (I am during the day...and evening...and sometimes night) while my husband is at work, etc. I have been reassured that I am raising up Zion and, so, am not alone.

I will endure this season in my life, but also try to endure it well. I know that every day doesn't have to be perfect (my kids are watching tv as I write this), but as long as I TRY, I will have the Holy Ghost with me, will be lifted up, and will be held guiltless.

So can you.

Whether you are of my faith or not, I hope you feel the truth in this. Get rid of the guilt (the Lord has) and find just one way to not just endure, but endure better. Not perfectly, not even successfully, but try.

When I Have Nothing Left to Give...

We have had a rough few days.

Last week Vivi got sick. Nothing major. Low-grade fever, just feeling icky. But at night time she would wake up inconsolable. First it was because she wasn't feeling well, then it was because of bad dreams. She was waking up crying 5-6 times per night. That lasted 3-4 nights.

And then, as sickness do, it jumped to Malcom. He woke up a couple times feeling like he needed to vomit, but couldn't. Then his ear hurt. Then he wanted water. All kinds of tears. During the day, he just felt kind of icky with a low grade fever, etc.

But at night time. Ohhhhh, nighttime. He was waking up screaming and crying. Snakes were biting his eyes. Something was tearing him to pieces. Nightmares everywhere. Sometimes he woke up not feeling well, but it mostly seemed to be night terrors. Waking up multiple times a night just crying inconsolably for a while.

We have done this for 4 nights now with Malcom after not quite recovering with Vivi. Gradually it has gotten a little better, but it's slowly killing me. Seriously. They have never been good sleepers, so I'm used to getting woken up a couple times a night, but this is a whole new level.

Last night I gave both kids Benadryl before bed (don't judge me). An hour later Vivi got up and was crying. Internally, I was screaming "What the heck?! You aren't even sick! You're supposed to be the ok one!" But I let her crawl and snuggle on my lap while I read my book. She whimpered, twitched, and cried out a couple times. After about ten minutes of this, Malcom started crying in his bed.

"Oh dear God," I thought. "Please no. I can't do this anymore. And it's only 8pm."

Did I mention my husband was out of town? And when he is in town I rarely see him anyway? Moving on...

I carried Vivi to her bed and then sat down next Malcom crying (still kinda sleeping) in his bed. I tried to wake him up so he knew he was safe and that mommy was right there (he kept saying "I want Mommy!" with his eyes closed). He quieted down an I just sat on the edge of his bed, crying. Not daring to move in case he were to wake up.

I sat there and cried and thought, "I have nothing left to give these kids. I am empty."

And it was true. I had no compassion. No tenderness. Nothing left to give these kids except "Shhhh. You're fine," and my pleas to stay in bed and stay sleeping.

I had nothing left to give.

As I thought about this, I didn't feel upset at myself. I couldn't. I was empty. I couldn't even feel like I was a terrible mom. At that point, I was just a shell.

I had nothing left to give.

And then the thought occurred to me, "Lord, I have nothing left to give these kids. So I'm giving them to you. They will not feel love and tenderness from me right now when they call out, so I'm going to hand that over to you right now. I need you to fill them with your love because, right now, I've got nothing."

Then I got up and walked out of their room and stuffed my face with some amazing homemade hot chocolate that a friend dropped off for me because she knew I was having a tough few days.

I'd like to say they both stayed in their beds and slept through the night, but they didn't. Malcom woke up a couple hours later crying inconsolably for a few minutes while I held him and kept watching my shows. Eventually he snapped out of it and I let him watch my shows with me, eat a couple of my Starburst jelly beans, and then crawl into bed with me.

As Malcom lay in my bed, though, he also let me hold his hand. In that moment, I felt the love return. I felt a little bit of patience return.

So here's the point of all this: Moms, if you feel like you have nothing left to give, you're not alone. You're not a bad mom. You don't not love your children (how's that for a loaded double negative). As moms, our job description is to pour into everyone else. And sometimes when we don't get a chance to be poured into because of lack of sleep, lack of time, lack of a spouse/partner around, etc. we hit empty. It happens.

I am blessed with friends who have been very honest with me about the good and bad times of parenting. I appreciate it when other moms say "This sucks. Imma 'bout to lose my ish." Because it makes me feel like I'm not so weird. Like I'm not some horrible mom and everyone else is just better at dealing with the hard times.

And so I share this: sometimes I have nothing left to give. I literally don't even want to be around my kids.

And that's ok. Because, in sum, they know I love them. They know I'm here for them.

But sometimes mommy just needs to eat chocolate and watch her shows alone.

A Mother and Daughter Made of Fire

"Stand by her when the people she loves begin to pull away: she is too intense for them, too sentient. Fire is contagious, catching, and nobody wants to go down burning."

I had a powerful experience with my daughter that I wanted to share in hopes that it would empower another mother to see within herself her divinity when she feels it the least. As an active LDS, I mean that differently than others may interpret: our divine DNA. The access to divine power we hold. Our divine potential.

I have a five year old daughter, Vivienne. Vivi, for short. She...she is a force to be reckoned with. Very early we recognized in her that she cannot be convinced to do anything she doesn't want to. It is a blessing that will serve her (and us) well in the future, but it sure makes her hard to parent. She is incredibly smart (dare I say gifted?); she is perceptive and asks deep questions. 

"What is our Heavenly Mother's name?" she asked one day. I don't think they talk about Heavenly Mother in her Sunbeam class at church...

She is stubborn, yet sensitive. She is fierce, but defensive. She is empathetic, but can intentionally do harm. She is prone to angry outbursts, rarely is she demure. She is the sun and rarely moon. She is fire and rarely water. More on this later.

She is exhausting.

Vivi's daily emotional roller coaster is a lot for this mama to handle. Especially because I am her mother. As in: the qualities, behaviors, and attitudes that make her most difficult to parent she clearly gets from me. I see myself in her giant blue eyes. She can be manipulative (as any five year old can), so it is often hard to discern when to be patient and when to be...not. This is where our story begins.

Vivi had not been feeling well the past several days. Nothing major but a low-grade fever and very weird/scary nightmares that woke her up feeling ill. Several times a night she would get up whimpering (which annoys the crap out of me) and finally get into bed with me where she (we) would have a very restless sleep.

Last night, it started as it had the previous couple nights: whimpering of not feeling well and saying she'd had really scary dreams. But instead of getting frustrated (at this point I'm not sure if there's something really wrong or if she's trying to get attention), I took her hand and tucked her in her bed. I asked if we should say prayer and she said she wanted me to say it.

Suddenly, I felt the spirit strongly that she needed a blessing, but not from her father in the other room. She needed her mother to advocate for her, to invoke a blessing on her. I inwardly wondered if I should place my hands on her head, but that felt weird to think about, so I simply held her hand and touch my forehead to hers and began to utter my prayer.

It began as many prayers often do, but I felt compelled to continue on as she groaned in discomfort or fear of bad dreams. I prayed for the Spirit to be with her, to calm her mind. For angels to watch over, guard, and protect her. As I continued I felt...power. I wasn't just requesting hopefully...I felt it had power. I had power. It would be done.

As I prayed for the Savior to lay His hands upon my daughter that her body and mind may be calmed and healed (for all that the Savior lays his hands upon can be), she stopped groaning. She stopped whimpering. She lay perfectly still.

When I opened my eyes after "Amen," she was sound asleep. Her fingers still firmly gripping mine had to be gently pried away and yet she still slept. Her face was pretty and peaceful. The dark circles that had been under her eyes the last couple days seemed to disappear.

I dropped to my knees in the middle of my children's bedroom and thanked my God for that ability to communicate with Him, for what the ability to call upon His power to calm and heal my daughter enough to sleep, for the power of being a woman and mother who has been given the opportunity to find this divinity within and share it with her daughter, for a Savior who actively loves each of us every day. 

I have said my fair share of prayers as a mother (of two VERY bad sleepers who are also very strong willed and high energy), but this wasn't a prayer of desperation...it felt like a powerful request of one having authority to ask for such a blessing as a mother charged with taking care of His children can and should have. 

I shared this experience with my husband when I returned to our bedroom and then did what everyone else does in bed: flipped open Facebook on my smart phone. Just then my sister sent me this article: On Loving a Daughter Made of Fire. More than any parenting article, this described my Vivi. It described me. It described us. And the best way to be the mother of a "daughter made of fire."

"Introduce her to the women who braved the fire to build you: your grandmother lives in your tender hands, your mother in the grace of your smile, your sister in the gentle curve of your frame. We are all, in some small way, immortal. As she becomes you, she too will inherit parts of them. Show her they are watching over her when she sees herself for the first time in the mirror of your armour and realizes she was born a warrior baby.

"Remind her that anger is natural. When she comes to you, convulsing inside with the volcano she cannot contain, sift through the ashes with her to reveal generations of forgotten women who have never known escape. Let her see that the fire will not — no, cannot — scorch her. She was born of it, after all."

I have reflected recently on my grandmother and mother and the kind of women they are. I have reflected on the kind of woman I am. Yes, we are made of fire. It makes sense that my Vivi is also made of fire. Recalling my experience I'd felt just a few minutes before I read the article, I believe it is that fire that I felt within me and all around me as I held my daughter's hand and invoked the blessings of heaven to be upon her.

“We are not mere human beings,” tell her, “we are stars the sky tried to swallow whole; the stars whose shrieks of fury pierced the darkness like bullets: to this day, the sky bleeds light through phantom wounds like you and I.”

As an LDS, there could be many layers to this statement but at surface value, she truly is a "star whose shrieks of fury pierced the darkness..." This will describe her her whole life as it does me.
Her fire, her divine nature, her divine potential. My fire, my divine nature, my divine potential. 

We are one.

We are powerful.

We are fire.

We will fight, we will burn. We will "help people with [our] flames," not destroy. Is that not the mission we have been given. Will not the earth be consumed in fire? Perhaps this is one kind of flame that will light up the earth.

Isaiah 64:2: "As when the melting fire burneth, the fire causeth the waters to boil, to make thy name known to thine adversaries, that the nations may tremble at thy presence!"

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• This was the first time I FELT that I do not need someone to grant me priesthood power; I have power within me. The power and fire of divine womanhood, eternal motherhood. A divine right by nature of who my Father is and the covenants I have made with Him. 

"She is part of an integral legacy, guided by those who once walked the very same path she treads. Remind her that a day will come where she will light the way for another on this journey..."

WE are daughters made of fire.

Every woman, whether she is LDS Christian, or not, has that fire. That power. That divinity. Perhaps in the women/girls in my family that "volcanic" fire is more evident, but the fire of the divine, the flame to light the way, the power to call upon the unseen is within us all.

The Atonement Overcomes Motherly Anger

"Anger is not an expression of strength. It is an indication of one’s inability to control his thoughts, words, his emotions. Of course it is easy to get angry. When the weakness of anger takes over, the strength of reason leaves. Cultivate within yourselves the might power of self-discipline."-Gordon B. Hinckley.

Who could get angry at these cutie patooties?!

Hi. My name is Vanessa. I'm a wife. I'm a mom. And I get angry. 

Not "call-CPS!" angry. But definitely un-Christlike anger. And usually at the most Christlike beings I'm in contact with: my children.

I've been known to yell. I'm working on it. I've been known to scream occasionally. I'm working on it. I've been known to throw things (not in front of my kids...unless it was toys or clothes I'd begged them to pick up for days).

And I cry. I weep for this weakness I have not yet been strong enough to overcome. I apologize to my children and ask for their forgiveness and explain that mommy should not have yelled. I kneel down at my bedside and pray to my Father in Heaven who blessed me with these children and ask His forgiveness. Why do allow myself to rarely get angry with other people...often going to great lengths to try to understand their point of view, but start yelling at my kids after they continue to get down from the table and run around for the 10th time while we try to eat dinner as a family?

I have gotten better, though. What pushes me to be better and not just throw up my hands? Other than just trying to continually improve myself it is this: they yell and scream at each other and me now. It is embarrassing and humbling. As far as I can tell, it's too late for my 5 year old who has seen too little too late in my improvement with patience. Yesterday she SCREAMED at her brother for not joining in her celebration that both kids had buckled their seat belts before I had. Poor brother.

There is no part of parenting that is scarier or more humbling than realizing that your children are a mirror of you. The qualities or actions in my children that are most frustrating to me as a parent? Yeah, they got that from me. It's probably the same for you.

Bring in the "I'm a failure at life" ice cream.

Ok. Pity party over.

But here's the good news that I've realized. Some of their best qualities, they also get from me. Their compassion, their love of learning, their love of hugs and kisses, and their musicality.

And here's the really good part. I have wasted a lot of time wondering "Have I ruined my kids lives? Will they grow up screaming at whomever they get frustrated with? Will they ever be able to have jobs?! Are they going to end living in a van down by the river??!!" (bonus points if you catch the reference)

Here's what I realized: the Atonement of my Savior Jesus Christ is never more applicable than during parenthood. I try. I try and I try and I try. Sometimes I fail. But because of the Savior, that does not mean that I am doomed or my children doomed. I honestly, 100 percent try my best to be a good mother. And sometimes I lose my ish. Because of the atonement, though, that doesn't mean I am a bad mother and I haven't ruined my children. 

Realizing the atonement applies to parenting like any other aspect of life has taken tons of stress off me. I know I'm doing my best. My father in heaven knows I'm doing my best. My kids know I'm doing my best. We read our scriptures, we pray together, we learn together. Sometimes I screw up and I am weak when I need to be strong. But an infinitely loving Heavenly Father has given us his Son, so that's not necessarily a deal breaker.

Here's the bottom line: I know, I trust in the Atonement. So that as long as I keep trying, keep moving in the right direction, my children will not be punished for my shortcomings. They will be fine. 

Why do I tell you this? I once read an article by the National "Mom of the Year" (who I think was from Utah). Her article basically consisted of this: she admitted she used to be a yeller. She yelled at her kids a lot, until an incident that made her realize she had gone too far. Her older kids remember the "yelling mom," her younger kids never knew that mom. And that gave me hope. It gave me hope that I can change and my young children will some day forget yelling, angry mom.

I've always appreciated moms who kept it real. Who admitted they were exhausted, who admitted that being a mother sucks sometimes. It made me feel...NORMAL. So, while I try to be optimistic and happy, I'll always keep it real. So here it is. I get angry at my kids. I yell. But I'm working on it. If this is you, too, or you have some other struggle, let's work on it together and trust in the Atonement of Jesus Christ. 

Doing that, you can know that everything will be alright.