Early Morning Thoughts

This morning I woke up at 5:30 and couldn't go back to sleep. Aside from the fact that I had to use the bathroom and my stomach was trying to eat itself, I couldn't make my mind slow down.

These days its hard not to anticipate what it will be like when my son comes. I find myself using my spare time to just fantasize about him. As I lay in bed trying to close my mind back down so I could get those last couple hours of sleep, I couldn't help but run through the picturesque moments in my head.

The moment I get to see him for the first time. The first time I hold him. The first time I'm able to sooth him back to sleep. The first time I understand what he is crying for. Watching his daddy hold him and kiss him. Crying because I have no idea what I'm doing and hoping he understands.

I picture sitting in his nursery, just watching him sleep, marveling that he's mine.

I'm sure all of these moments will be surrounded by harder, more stressful ones. But for now, it's fun to think of what it will be like.

As of last Friday, I am an official stay-at-home mom. :-) Well, I guess right now, I'm technically only a stay-at-home wife, but still. It's been fun to be back at home during the day.

Just in the last few days, with no work schedule to distract me, a fundamental truth as struck me. This is where I belong. I belong at home.

I didn't expect that. I expected to feel relaxed because finally I have the time I need to get all of those household chores done, but in only a few days, I've come to realize how comfortable I feel here.

I love staying at home.

I love that I can go grocery shopping, do the dishes, and clean the living room. I love getting things ready for our little guy and anticipating him crawling around on my newly vacuumed floors. I love that I'll have the time I need for those things.

I've found as I've embraced this inherent role, I am much happier. I feel so much peace. I've also found that I continue to become more and more grateful for the husband that I have. I feel so blessed to have the opportunity to stay home because he works so hard. We work as a team, and I couldn't do my part without him.

I know a few months from now I may be writing another blog entry about how I "just need to get out of the house," but for now, I'm treasuring the time I have here.

It's interesting to me that when we live what the Gospel has asked us to live, at least as much as our circumstances allow, we are happier. There is peace in being where you are suppose to be.

Beyond getting ready for our little munchkin, Isaac and I are both starting school at the end of the month. I'm excited to see what grad school has to offer. Part of me wonders if Grad School at Tech will be easier than my undergraduate at BYU, but we'll have to see.

Anyway, I'll be sure to keep the blog as updated as possible as the time draws nearer for our little guy to make his appearance. I can't believe I'm already 34 weeks along and that he's coming so soon. Life in the Olive household is about to drastically change and we are excited and quite nervous about it all. 

Words

I haven't posted in a while, and that's mostly because I haven't been able to decide on the words I'd like to write.

Words are kind of an interesting thing. There are wrong words and right words for every situation. And when the right words are given at the right time for the right situation, something magical happens.

As Isaac and I went the through the process of celebrating his father's life, attending his funeral and his graveside service, I found that words were quite important to the whole process.

There were sweet words given in his obituary, dictating an overview of his life on this earth. More profound words were given at his funeral in prayer, song, and formal speeches. At his graveside service, words were offered in an air of finality, dedicating his body and its burial place to the Lord.

In the midst of all of these words, it was fascinating to understand that none of them could really do it justice. How can any arrangement of words articulate the heartache, peace, and resolution felt? No words could accurately describe the Spirit that permeated each individual as they attended Papa Olive's funeral, or the ultimate acceptance and faith felt by each of his family members.

I found that others shared in my opinion. More than any condolence given, I heard "I just don't know what to say" or "I wish I knew what to say to you." Everyone was searching for the "right words," understanding that there really aren't any to give.

I would love to write a blog post about what I experienced at my Father-in-Law's funeral. I'd love to write about how much I miss him, and how much I wish he could be there next to my husband when he blesses our little boy. I'd love to write about the peace that has poured into my heart throughout this whole experience and how exceptional the Gospel is, especially when dealing with such a misunderstood, incomprehensible event like death.

But ultimately, I find that there aren't words that could do it justice.

2 weeks before he passed away, he got to feel his grandson kick. :)

Baby Bumps

Sometimes, especially lately, when a get a few moments to relax, I sit down and let my mind just wonder.

Lots of times my mind wanders to the major stresses of my life. As I think through everything, I often feel overwhelmed and sick to my stomach. I rub my eyes, run my hands through my hair, and wonder how everything will work out.

Then, in these quiet, stressful moments, my little boy will start kicking my tummy.

Though I know that his kicking is random and unintentional, every time I can't help but feel like every kick is meant to help me keep moving forward.

It's like with each little bump or scoot across my tummy, he's saying, "C'mon, Mommy, it's gonna be ok. I love you. We'll get through this."

In so many ways, I'm so glad this little boy is stuck in my tummy for a few more months. If he were here on top of everything else right now, I'm not sure I could handle it.

But in other ways, I can imagine those days after he gets here. In the quiet, stress-filled moments, I'll be able take a break, go to his crib and watch him sleep. I'll run my fingers over his tiny, precious body and know that as long as we have our family, we'll be alright.

I'm excited to meet our little guy. I'm excited for the inevitable happiness and love he will bring into our lives.

For now, though, I appreciate so much the fact that I can feel him.

This week...

Last weekend we spent a wonderful few days with Papa Olive and other of Isaac's relatives. Everyone is coming from all over to see him since he's been moved to the nice hospice place. It was emotionally draining and spiritually uplifting. We were so glad to be able to spend that time with everyone.

This week, we may go crazy.

With the past weekend and all that it implies weighing heavily on Isaac and I's mind, we enter this week of madness. To give you an idea of what I'm talking about:
1. Isaac's birthday and my brother's Endowment are on Saturday. Both of these things are great things and I'm really excited for them. We also have Father's Day on Sunday, which should be good.
2. I work 3 doubles this week. Originally, when I agreed to do this I didn't know about many of the items listed below. This means that for 3 days this week, I will be working 10-11 hour shifts.
3. We are moving. We are very excited to move given previous events, but moving is no *insert cliche phrase here*.
4. With moving comes packing and renting Uhaul trucks as well as signing a new lease and breaking a current one. Not to mention the cleaning and unpacking that will come soon thereafter. As much as I adore organizing (which seriously, I really do like it), I'm dreading the mass of organizing coming our way.
5. Did I mention that we're speaking on Sunday? Isaac and I have both been asked to speak on the importance of Fatherhood. So somewhere in the mix of moving, working, and sleeping we have talks to write.
6. We're trying to sell a bunch of furniture. Some very generous donors have given us several great furniture pieces that we don't need. We've gladly accepted them, thinking we'd have time to sell them. Currently, though, the entire nursery is packed with extra furniture, so much so that we have about 5 totes sitting in our living room right now. The idea was to have a garage sale before we move, but it's looking like that won't happen at this point. So we're putting them up on Craigslist.
7. I'm 6 months pregnant and it's hot in our house. 'Nough said.

It seems like things like this tend to come in waves. When trials/ stresses come, they all come at once. I can feel my stomach starting to hurt like it does when I'm overwhelmed, but I keep trying to remind myself to take it one day at a time. It's crazy, but it's doable and we are very blessed.

Isaac is doing his best to keep me light-spirited. He's currently in the kitchen doing the dishes and singing Hakuna Matata at the top of his lungs. I love him. :)

The Break-In

A few days ago, I wrote a blog entry about our house being broken into. I wrote it on paper (my 2 laptops were among the items stolen) and have been meaning to type it on the blog. Today, I read through it again and decided that even though time has made me less emotional about the whole thing, I should do my past feelings the justice of writing them. So here it goes.

Yesterday (May 29, 2012), our house was broken into and robbed while Isaac and I were at work. It was quite a shock to come home to our torn-up home and missing belongings.

Once Isaac said the words "Someone broke into our house..." my mind began to run through all of the valuable things we own. As I glanced around the house, I realized that many things were missing. My laptops were gone, the Wii, controllers, and games we just got for Christmas were gone.

As I walked through the wreckage, I began to cry. It was such a shock to think some unwelcome person had invaded our life.

At one point, I thought of my bracelet- the one valuable piece of jewelry I own. About 4 Christmases ago, Isaac gave me a diamond bracelet to wear on special occasions.

 For the past 4 years, I have worn it on every special occasion we've had. I wore it each year on our anniversary, on the day he left for his mission, on especially hard days during his mission, and on the day he got home. I wore it the night we got engaged, the day we were married, and the day we saw our little boy on the ultrasound for the first time. As these memories rushed through my mind, I ran back to my bedroom, into my closet, and as I ruffled through the pile of stuff now there, my heart sank.

They took my bracelet, too.

My heart began to sink more and more as I realized what all they had taken- Isaac's tools, our camera, and my iPod. I felt so angry and hurt.

Then, as I walked among the mess, I began to see our little home through the intruder's eyes.

I saw him break down our door

and while searching through the kitchen, catch a glimpse of the ultrasound pictures we had posted on our fridge next to our engagement photo.

I saw him pass by the temple mirror my mom made us for our wedding on his way to rifle through the living room. As he rifled through all of our warranty information and vital papers, I saw him glance at our marriage certificate and throw it aside.

Next, he moved to the hallway, passing several pictures of us and plaques with the words "love" or "Olive Family, est 2011" inscribed on them.

In the bathroom, he grabbed the toilet paper to wipe his prints off of anything he touched, and as he was stuffing all of our prescription drugs in his bag, he glanced at yet another wall-hanging, "Isaac and Callan- Together at Last."

He moved onto our bedroom next. The bedrooms were the hardest for me to see.

He tore through my temple bag, strewing sacred clothing across the floor. He went through my entire hope chest- I'm sure he was disappointed when nothing of "value" was found there. He didn't think twice as he tossed my "Isaac Box" and baby books, full of precious memories and artifacts, aside and piled more things on top of them.

After finishing with our room, he went to the nursery. Baby clothes were thrown this way and that.

Isaac's "Callan Box" was likewise opened and torn through.

He searched our bassinet, throwing stuffed animals and other nursery items around the room in haste. Isaac's temple bag was treated the same as mine.

Then, feeling like he accomplished his goal, and probably feeling a little disappointed in the fact that we really are just poor college students, he left our home.

As I pictured this scene through our intruder's eyes, my heart broke. How? How could someone see such glaring evidence of a happy, sweet home and come in and destroy it anyway?

In the end, it's not the stolen stuff that bothers me. It's just stuff, and to be honest, we didn't have much to steal. Isaac and I are safe, and that's what matters.

What bothers me is the feeling that a fellow human, probably our neighbor, could do such a thing. He came into our home, our home, a place that's suppose to be one of the most sacred places on this earth for our little family, and in a few short moments, he defiled it.

That's the end of the entry I wrote that day. I think going through something like this has taught Isaac and I some valuable lessons:
1. There are some dishonest, heartless people in this world.
2. We need to move.
3. We can grow closer together during hard times.
4. Our family's safety is more important than money.
5. Ultimately, Theo is a really terrible guard fish.

Overall, we're looking at this experience as an eye-opening one. We're grateful for the lessons we've learned and though the next couple of months are destined to be quite stressful with everything we have going on, we know we can get through it together. :)

Pregnancy is Awesome

I think often in this life, people forget to talk about the blessings and miracles they experience.

Maybe we find it easier to talk about the hardships because those don't find a place close to our heart, whereas the sacred experiences we have are nestled deep inside.

I'm starting to understand this concept more and more as I begin my journey in Motherhood.

With pregnancy, too often I hear horror stories like, "I was so sick that I had to be near a bathroom at all times." or "The smells! The smells are awful, just wait." etc...

In fact, this was so much the case, that Isaac at one point during my pregnancy asked if something might be wrong with our baby. To him, my pregnancy was too easy compared to the stories he had heard. I didn't get sick very much. I don't have any crazy horror stories to tell. I smiled when he asked that question and told him that maybe he just didn't hear about easy pregnancies as much.

I think ultimately, this concept is why I was unprepared for the sacred, sweet experience of seeing our little boy on an ultrasound for the first time. I had heard how amazing the birth of a child is, how incredible and sacred it is to hold that little one in your arms for the first time. But I had seldom heard about how special just seeing a picture of him could be.

As the ultrasound tech began scanning our little one for his measurements and fluid levels, I watched in silent awe. Could this human being really be inside of me? Could Isaac and I really be the ones solely responsible for taking care of him?

After the measurements were taken, she showed us more of our son's profile. We saw his sweet head, complete with a button nose and beautiful little mouth. I realized that this moment was sacred, and the Spirit was permeating both Isaac and I's entire bodies. We were seeing our son for the first time. Our son.

In that moment, I knew him. I knew what I want for him, what I hope for him. After we watched our son for a few minutes, small tears welling up in both of his parents eyes, the tech handed us the pictures she had taken and left the room to make sure all of the scans looked good.

Isaac and I sat hand in hand as we looked back over these sweet pictures and just marveled at this person we created. We both commented on how special this felt, seeing him for the first time, how humbling it was.

We commented on how much we already love him.

At the end of this experience, it was hard to be upset about anything else. Just days before, I was bemoaning the fact that my body is becoming so unrecognizable to me. Isaac tells me every day how beautiful I am, and he means it will all his heart, but I wasn't feeling as beautiful.

After seeing out little munchkin squirm around on that screen, there was no self-pity left in my heart. How could I complain about anything with this miracle inside of me?

Perhaps, if we shared more of these experiences with other future mothers, motherhood/ pregnancy would not be seen as such a burden or hardship. It would be seen as a miracle, a blessing beyond all others.

I'm starting to understand that more now.

There's this boy...

Today I fell in love with another boy.

His daddy and I pretty much think he's perfect.