Meaningfulness

I'm so Type A sometimes that I think to myself "I haven't written on my blog in forever. No one reads it anymore. Plus, I would have to go back and do a summary of all of the things that have happened in the last year before I could write an actual post." So each time I thought about writing a blog post, I became too overwhelmed with my self-imposed rules and didn't write.

Lately, I've been trying to shift my thinking in a lot of ways. I'm studying a new theory for therapy called Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT). I have had a ton of success using this with my clients so far and it really resonates with my theory of life. What's been especially great about it, though, is the self-work I get to do while I learn. I truly believe that no theory in therapy will work if you haven't done the work on yourself first.

ACT focuses primarily on mindful, purposeful living. In other words, don't let your dumb thoughts and dumb feelings/ anxieties get in the way of living your life the way you want to live it. So with that long introduction, I'm not going to allow my own insecurities about blog writing to prevent me from writing. Writing is an outlet for me and it's always a healing process when I need it to be. No dumb thoughts should get in the way of that.

This year has been a whirlwind to say the least. But when I look back on the 4 years since Isaac and I first got married, I can't look at even half of one and say "Well, that was nice, calm, and uneventful." Since getting married, I got pregnant, Isaac's father passed away, I started grad school, Isaac started school, my dad was diagnosed with cancer, I had a baby, Isaac applied to BYU, I graduated from grad school, I got pregnant again, we moved to Provo, Isaac applied to internships, I had another baby, started my own therapy practice, and starting teaching at BYU-Idaho, we moved to Chicago, and moved back to Provo. There's 4 years summed up into one long, run-on sentence. I am beginning to come to terms with the fact that "busy" is just Isaac and I's pace of life. I'm ok with that though, I don't do well when I'm bored.

In the midst of the busyness, though, I sometimes get lost. I lose my focus on the things that matter the most like my faith and testimony, or being a mother to my little boys.

Lately, managing my 2 very needy children has been incredibly overwhelming for me. I had this idea that adjusting to 2 children happened fairly quickly- give it a few months and I'll get into a grove with it all. While that was true for a little while, I forgot to incorporate the adjustment that comes with each new stage my kids are going through. Sam is done with the 2's, but headed into his threenager year. Emerson is done with "newborn" neediness, but it headed into toddlerhood. With these transitions, I find myself completely spent most days. For the first time since being a stay at home mom, I wake up in the morning with a feeling of dread in my stomach as I think about the day ahead of me. And that feeling of dread leads to feelings of guilt and saddness as I think about how moms "shouldn't" feel this way, how I should be happy because my life is so blessed and I have so many wonderful things to be grateful for.

One thing I have been learning through ACT is that happiness is very different than meaningfulness. We live in such a "feel good" culture that when we don't feel "happy" we think something must be wrong and look for every way we can to change it. The reality is though, happiness is not an indicator of a life worth living. Victor Frankl (author of A Man's Search for Meaning) talked about this concept in reference to his experience in Natzi concentration camps. Obviously, no happiness was to be found while he was a prisoner there. How could he be happy in such a place? But regardless of his level of happiness, he was able to find meaning and that's ultimately what kept him and others alive.

So as I think about my average day- the amount of bodily fluids that end up on my clothes, the never ending cries, whines, and yells, the hugs and slobbery kisses and the poopy diapers- I think I need to just stop and realize that though I may not feel completely happy throughout my day, I am doing something meaningful. Every moment I spend with my children is meaningful in some way because I am guiding them through this life. That meaning should be what I search for and then maybe happiness will come as an added benefit.

Emerson's Birth Story (Part 2)

After looking at several methods that would help prepare me for natural birth, I settled on Hypnobabies. To me, it seemed like Hypnobabies was the only method that would allow me to "train" for my birthing experience in a structured way. I liked that there were 5 weeks worth of lessons to complete, each with a lesson plan.

If you aren't familiar with Hypnobabies (I sure wasn't before this pregnancy), here's a little info about their method. Basically, they help you train your body to enter "self-hypnosis" and create natural anesthesia during contractions (or as "pressure waves" as they refer to them). During the 5 weeks of lessons, I listened to several different hypnosis tracks, similar to deep meditation tracks, that helped me train my mind and body to relax on demand. I liked having the excuse to meditate and relax for 30 minutes each day.

I was able to complete all 5 weeks of lessons before I went into labor and I was happy about that. So on Sunday, Oct 20, I went to church and all was normal and well. That afternoon I felt some Braxton Hicks that felt stronger than normal, but I didn't think anything of it. I fully expected to go to my due date or past my due date and at that point I had just started my 39th week. Around 7:30 that evening, I was doing the dishes and all of the sudden, I felt a trickle run down my leg. I thought to myself "Wait, was that...?" And then I went to the bathroom, just to make sure. By the time I got to the bathroom, I knew. Nothing was stopping that flow of liquid, it was coming and I knew what that meant. I looked in the mirror and let it process for a moment. "My water just broke. I'm having a baby. Holy crap, I'm having this baby." I felt my stress rise as I realized that because my water broke before any contractions had begun, this labor may be more complicated than I had envisioned. More than anything I wanted to avoid Pitocin or any non-natural labor inducing substances because I knew that would make my natural labor more difficult. After noticing my stress level rise, I remembered my relaxation and hypnosis lessons and I began to consciously relax myself, immediately stopping any stress or fear that was trying to creep in. I put on one of the affirmation tracks that state positive messages about birth and I began to pack Sam's overnight bag. I called Isaac who was at a meeting and got his voicemail. I wasn't in any rush to get to the hospital because I knew that there was a short window to get my labor started naturally before they would want to begin an induction. I also called my friend, Stephanie, and told her we would be bringing Sam over for the night. I told myself that if this was how my body needed labor to begin that was ok and everything would be alright. 

Isaac rushed home after getting my voicemail and was very eager to get to the hospital. :) I told him that I didn't feel rushed and that I would like to straighten up our house a little so it would be clean when we came home. He looked at me like I was insane and said "No, we are going to the hospital, I will come and clean later." haha I agreed to go ahead and make our way to the hospital though I gave him a bit of a hard time for being so anxious about it. 

We dropped Sam off at my friend Stephanie's house and she was very encouraging, saying that everything would be alright. 

We arrived at the hospital around 8:45pm and got checked in. Our nurse, Melanie, tested to make sure my water had actually broken (there was no doubt in my mind at this point) and sure enough the ph strip turned a bright blue. Melanie then checked me and I was only dilated to a 2. We talked about birthing options and she was completely on board with me going naturally and was familiar with Hypnobabies. I was really excited to get a nurse who was happy to help accommodate as much as she could in my birthing experience. She asked if I would like her to refrain from asking about pain level and I told her that I didn't think it would be necessary. True to her word, she never asked me to rate my pain or talked to me about pain at all. She was awesome. 

She called my doctor who agreed to allow me to walk around for an hour to get the labor started on its own. After an hour, we would check to see if I had progressed and go from there. So I began walking around. Let me just say, after your water breaks in labor everything is more fluid (see what I did there?). On one of the laps, we had to call the janitorial staff because my water just kept coming and there was nothing we could to about it. At this point, I had come to terms with the fact that there is no dignity associated with anything during labor, so I laughed it off and moved on. During that first hour, I felt some tuggings but no definite contractions.

Melanie checked me again and she gave me another half centimeter, saying I was now at about a 2.5. Honestly, I think she was just being nice and buying me more time. She said we could try walking for another hour and she also brought me a birthing ball. 

I walked for half the hour and sat on the birthing ball the second half. I was beginning to feel more steady contractions at this point and that made me really excited. 

Melanie hooked me back up to the monitors and checked and said I was at a 3 and because I was having more steady contractions she felt comfortable to let me labor for a little while.

Another couple of hours went by. I began to feel the contractions strongly after a while. I liked watching them on the monitors and was feeling pretty good at this point. I was so happy that my labor had begun on its own and no medical interventions would be necessary. I began using my hypnosis tracks to help relax myself through the contractions and that was really helpful. I can't say that it was painless for me, but being relaxed and unafraid helped me cope with the pain so much better.

Melanie came in again. It was probably around 1:30am at this point. She checked me and said I was about a 4.5, so she was going to take her break so she could be ready for when the action started. She told me I was doing a great job and waited to talk to me until after I was through with each contraction. She was such a great nurse. 

I remember watching her turn on the warmer above the baby station and put out some blankets before she left for her break. During the next difficult contraction, I thought to myself "My baby is coming! She turned on the warmer, that means he's coming!" That warmer got me through the next few intense contractions. 

 Then all of the sudden, things started getting crazy. The contractions picked up to about 30 seconds apart and became extremely intense. I turned off my hypnobabies tracks and just breathed through the contractions, letting all of my body and mind turn inward and just focus on staying relaxed. Isaac was super supportive. He held my hand and encouraged me through each contraction without talking too much. A few more really intense contractions happened and I began to feel discouraged. My body felt shaky and I felt light headed after each contraction. I began having cold sweats as well. I remember thinking that if I was only half way done with labor and this was going to go on for another couple of hours, I didn't think I could do it. (I now realize that I was going through transition and had no idea.)

I tried to stay positive and told myself over and over that my body was made for this and that is awesome. Then all of the sudden, during a really intense contraction, I began to push. It wasn't something I chose to do, I just did it. I can't describe how crazy that feeling is. I was so taken aback by this, I waited until another contraction happened to see if I would push again. Sure enough, I pushed through the entire contraction. Isaac had no idea what was happening so after that contraction was over I told him to call the nurse. I didn't have time to explain why because another contraction hit. Isaac, thinking I was just having a hard time with the pain, called the nurse and calmly said that we needed someone to come. After my next contraction of pushing, I felt so much pressure. I turned to Isaac and said "I'm pushing! We need the nurse!" Isaac looked at me with a panicked expression and said "I called, she's coming, she's coming!" Melanie came in and checked me and said "Oh! You're complete!" and ran back out of the room to call in reinforcements. It had only be 30 minutes since she had checked me previously. I had gone from a 4.5 to complete in 30 minutes.

After Melanie checked me and ran out, I had another strong contraction and pushed out Emerson's head. I looked at Isaac and said something like "He's coming! I just pushed out his head! He's coming!!" And then a final contraction hit and out came his shoulders and the rest of him... straight onto the bed. One of the nurses that had been called had just come into the room, put on her gloves, and ran to the bed as Emerson flopped out. She picked him up and began working with him and he began to cry a little. 

I was so excited to be done laboring and I felt so good. The pain just instantly stopped and it was awesome. I just kept smiling and laughing. 

4 or 5 other nurses, including Melanie, ran in and realized that Emerson was already born. They all put on their gloves and started rummaging through the cabinets trying to find everything they needed. The clamped his cord and began running newborn procedures on him. Melanie just kept laughing, saying "What the heck? How did that happen?! I just barely left you! And I didn't even hear you screaming!" haha All of the nurses were laughing and the one that came in first and "caught" him was proud of herself. It was her "first time" to catch a baby and she was excited that she got to experience it. We all laughed at how crazy that had all been. Then, the on-call doctor arrived. (In the time it had taken for Melanie to call him, for him to wake up and come down the hall, Emerson had been born.) He took one look at Emerson on the bed and said "Well... ok then." lol He stitched me up a bit and then went over to the computer to make a report. As he was typing, he turn and said "Wait, did you have a boy or a girl?" haha It was just such a surreal experience. 

My poor doctor didn't arrive until everything was already cleaned up and we were waiting to be transferred to the postpartum area. She apologized profusely and said that usually she has the nurses call when moms are at a 5, but since I was only at a 4.5, my nurse hadn't called her yet. And no one expected me to be complete 30 minutes later! 

After processing through that birthing experience, I realized a couple of things: 

1. I am so glad we had such a great nursing staff. They took care of everything. When birthing in the hospital, the birth experience really comes down to the nurses. Your doctor may make the final calls, but the nurses determine your experience. Ours were awesome and I was really grateful.

2. I'm so grateful I prepared for a natural birth. I realized after everything was said and done that if I had planned on getting an epidural during this birth, I probably would have requested it after Melanie told me I was at a 4.5. I would have wanted to make sure I was progressing enough that the epidural wouldn't slow progress, so a 4.5 would had been a good indication of that. But if I had requested it then, there is no way I would have been able to get an epidural in time. I would have gone through that half an hour completely terrified of the pain I was experiencing and it would have been a much scarier, more harrowing experience. But because I was already prepared for the pain and accepting of it, I was never scared. Even when the pain got super intense and I didn't think I could physically handle it anymore, I wasn't scared. I knew that this was part of the deal and that my body was just doing what it was supposed to do. That's what preparing for a natural birth had done for me- it had taken the fear out of the equation. Because of that, instead of scary and traumatizing, my birth experience was really cool. I was able to experience my body doing its job super efficiently and that was neat for me.

In the end, I don't feel like I love Emerson any more than I love Sam. My recovery has been pretty similar to the way it was with Sam (other than not having my legs be numb after I gave birth which was nice). Breastfeeding is going better with Emerson, but I have awesome lactation consultants to thank for that. So when I think about how I birthed Emerson naturally, it's not like I wear that experience as a badge of honor or find it at all superior to Sam's medical birth. Both experiences were so awesome and exactly what I needed them to be and I am really grateful for that. I feel like I was prepared for this birth by feeling drawn to natural birthing methods early on and I am incredibly grateful for that. 

It's kinda cool for me to have experienced both versions of birth and to realize the value in both of them. 

Now that Emerson is here and we've spent a lot of time snuggling, I am sad that I ever worried about bonding with him. He's the sweetest, most precious thing. I love him immensely and he feels like a missing piece to our family puzzle. This whole pregnancy and birth has been so different than I expected, but maybe that's the point. I learned to listen to the Spirit and be ok with the unexpected and I feel like I am stronger because of that. 

I'm so glad Emerson is a part of our family. Though, one of our family members is taking little more time to adjust. :)

Emerson's Birth Story (Part 1)

Even before I gave birth to Emerson, I knew I would write his birth story on my blog. Something about the way I experienced Emerson's pregnancy made me believe that his birth story would be worth writing. And I was right.

First, a little about my pregnancy with Emerson. From the beginning of this pregnancy, everything felt completely different than Sam's. I got pregnant a little earlier than we had anticipated, but was able to adjust to the new plans. Throughout the first trimester, I was physically healthy and rarely got sick, but I was an emotional wreck. I went through a round of pretty heavy depression which was completely unusual for me. I have experienced periods of sadness or heaviness throughout my life, but this was real depression. I felt unmotivated and upset the majority of the time. I felt alone and scared, but I had friends all around me and I had nothing to be scared about. I felt like this baby wasn't going to survive and went to every doctor's visit expecting terrible news. After I realized what was going on, I did some research and apparently pregnancy depression (not just postpartum depression) is fairly common and can be brought on by the hormonal changes in the body.

By the second trimester, my mood lifted and I was able to feel more like myself again. I still went through depressive moments, but it wasn't all-consuming. Mostly, I was excited to find out the gender of the baby because I knew, 100 % knew, that this baby was a girl. I had had various experiences, some of which were very spiritual and meaningful to me, that made me believe this baby was a girl. I was so sure I hadn't even looked at boy names and had begun buying girl clothes.

And then, we found out he was a boy.

If you know me, you know I have a VERY difficult time with unmet expectations or sudden changes. It takes me a long time to process through them and adjust. This was one of those times that was really hard for me. When the ultrasound tech said that it was a boy, I was floored. My whole world changed in that moment. I know that sounds dramatic, but that's how it felt to me. I had begun to picture a life with Sam and a baby girl. I had pictured doing her hair and having those mom-daughter conversations. I felt like I knew her and was beginning to anticipate who she would be. Then all of the sudden, she was taken from me and replaced with a stranger. Who was this boy? Since when was he the one inside of me, instead of this girl that I had already bonded with? What was I going to do with another boy? And what if this sweet girl never comes?

Needless to say, it took me a while to adjust. I cried for a few days and then felt completely guilty about it. I felt so ungrateful. I know so many of my friends who struggle with infertility or who have lost their sweet babies too early. I know that they would be happy to have any healthy baby, regardless of gender. And here I was, upset because my expectations hadn't been met. Why couldn't I just be happy that our baby looked healthy and we were being blessed with another sweet boy?

Eventually, I began to adjust. I started looking at boy names and I got all of Sam's adorable baby clothes out of storage. Even after accepting this new person inside of me, I couldn't seem to feel connected to him. I would try to picture him, get to know him in my head, and I just couldn't. With Sam, I had a pretty clear idea of the type of person he would be. I felt like I knew him before I met him. With Emerson, I couldn't even finalize a name for him. He was such a stranger to me.

This disconnect as well as the depression I experienced in the first trimester made me very concerned that I would not feel attached to Emerson once he came. I was afraid that postpartum depression would be a real issue for me.

After thinking of ways to help myself through this, I kept feeling like attempting a natural birth with Emerson could help. I didn't know why, but I just couldn't shake the idea. I had a wonderfully easy and smooth medicated birth with Sam. I had a voluntary induction right at 40 weeks, and I got an epidural halfway through the labor and slept through the rest. It was awesome and I loved it. So I was really surprised when I began to consider natural birth with Emerson. I guess part of it stemmed from feeling so out of control through the whole pregnancy. The prospect of having more control over my birth with Emerson lightened my spirits and gave me something to look forward to. I liked the idea of being able to actively prepare for it So I began looking around for natural birthing methods.

(Stay tuned for Part 2.)

Small Talk

Dear Checkout Lady,
         I met you last night as I was getting my groceries. I sat in line thinking about how glad I was to not have to bring my toddler shopping with me and how tired I felt from spending the day with him. When it was my turn in line, I began putting my stuff on the conveyor belt and you began scanning it through.
         Something you don't know is that one of my New Years Resolutions this year was to make an attempt at conversation with the cashiers any time I was checking out at a store. You see, I have a really difficult time with forced conversation or small-talk when it comes to strangers. This is a weakness of mine and it causes me a lot of anxiety. So this year, I decided to try to work on that weakness. I can't say my anxiety has gotten any better, but I can say it has gotten easier to strike up the conversation.
          Last night, when I met you, I became overwhelmingly grateful that I had pushed past my initial fears and started a conversation with you.
          I asked you how your shift was going so far (a line I've found is pretty safe to start out), and you told me that it was going well but that due to the fact you are 8.5 months pregnant, you were pretty tired. I immediately recognized this as a common-ground topic and proceeded to empathize with you. We talked briefly about pregnancy and our loss of energy. I talked about my "pregnancy brain" issues and told you about how just that day I went to get a drink of water only to realize that I had put a jar of peanut butter in the sink, instead of back in the cabinet.  You laughed and totally related to that.
           Then that moment of silence happened. That moment where my anxiety peaks because I either have to find some way to continue the conversation or give up on it altogether. I decided to press on and asked you something to the extent of "So with you being 8.5 months pregnant, I bet you're getting pretty ready to meet your little girl." You looked at me with a hesitant but pleasant expression and then you told me a little of your story.
           You told me that up until a few weeks ago you were 100% sure that you were giving your baby girl up for adoption. You had already selected birth parents and built a relationship with them. Then, 3 weeks ago all of that changed when the adoptive mom was able to conceive on her own and they backed out of the adoption. You talked about how now, you weren't sure what to do or if you could trust anyone with  your little girl, how maybe this was a sign that you are supposed to keep her.
           As you told me your story, I realized I had no idea what to say to you. I felt something I haven't felt since being a therapist. I was able to see your strength without even knowing everything about you. I saw you, not as a cashier at Walmart, but as a strong, worried young woman. And I felt such compassion and love for you. You told me about such a raw part of your life and I admired your candidness. You didn't tell your story to me so that I would feel sorry for you, you just told it because it was real life and you wanted to be real. I appreciated that and longed to keep talking to you, help you figure out your choices, and support you in a time when clearly your support system did not exist. I wanted you to see the strength in yourself that I could see in that small moment with you.
          Instead, you finished bagging my groceries and I told you something to the extent of "Wow, good luck with everything." You smiled and thanked me, and I left.
         I unloaded my groceries into my car thinking about the contrast between our lives. I was going home to a husband who loves and supports me and a toddler who thinks I am his whole world. I have boxes full of baby clothes in my bedroom, just waiting to be sorted and prepared for this new little one who is entering our family. This pregnancy has been hard emotionally for me, but not once did I have to question whether I was prepared to bring my baby into this world or whether I would be able to provide all of the things he needs. I thought about how differently this pregnancy would have felt if I had not known these things. Or if, at the end of the day, I didn't feel able to keep him. A surge of gratitude filled my heart as I realized how blessed me life really is. My life suddenly felt so simple and uncomplicated and I was grateful for that.
          Because I didn't get the chance to thank you last night and our paths may never cross again, I wanted to take this chance to say it all. Thank you, fellow pregnant woman, cashier lady. Thanks for sharing a piece of your life with me and helping me to realize how good I have it. Thanks for helping me further overcome one of my weaknesses and for showing me what can happen when you learn a little about people. Thanks for letting me see your strength. I hope someday, you'll be able to see that strength, too. And good luck with your decision about your precious little girl.
       
-Callan
       
         

Live Like I Am Living

All the time in mommy blog posts across the world, tragic news stories, or Tim McGraw's greatest hits albums I hear the phrases "treasure every moment" or "live like you were dying." Most of the time these phrases are attached to some kind of "because."

Treasure every moment because... you never know when your precious child will be taken away from you.
Live like you were dying because... you only live once and you don't want to live with regrets.
Treasure every moment because... life can completely change in the matter of a second.

And so on.

As I've read these stories and the precious sentiment behind them, I have often found myself thinking about this concept. How do I live like I am dying every day? How do I seize the moment, treasure every minute with those that I love to make sure that I don't end up with regrets? With these questions comes inevitable guilt. I ask myself, "Was I treasuring my life when I spent 2 hours watching TV last night instead of connecting with my husband?" or I'll say, "Dang, I failed at that YOLO thing today because all I did was clean my house and make sure Sam didn't seriously injure himself in some way."

But through hours of allowing my mind to contemplate this concept, I've come to a comforting conclusion:

There is no way to "treasure every moment."
There is no way to consistently "live like you were dying."

In fact, I'd go out on a limb and say living like that is counterproductive and unrealistic to real life.

I understand where mommy blogs and news articles are coming from when they tell us to reexamine our lives and try our best to live them to the fullest. The realization I've come to, though, is that sometimes living life to the fullest means doing the things that are completely mundane and seemingly meaningless.

I think about what my day would be like if I knew Sam only had 24 hours to live. Assuming he was healthy and could still do everything he can do now, I imagine it would start with me waking early in the morning (perhaps never sleeping the night before) and creeping into his room to watch him sleep. I'd watch his belly go up and down and love every breath he took. I think our day would consist of Isaac not working, nothing else in the world getting in the way. We would go to the park or let him ride some fun kiddy rides. We would eat all of his favorite foods. He wouldn't hear one correcting word or pay any visits to timeout for bad behavior because we wouldn't have the heart to go through with it. My computer would be completely ignored as well as any other media-related device, unless it was a music player and we were dancing together. With all of that and more, I guarantee that at the end of the day I would have some regrets. I would think of things I could have done differently to treasure my time with him more.

So as I think of that "ideal" day of treasuring my time with my family and living like I or they are dying, I think about how unrealistic it is. No work would ever get done, no bills ever paid. Our house would stay dirty because what's the point of cleaning? Sam would never learn the difference between good or bad behavior because I would treasure anything from him at that point.

So how do I treasure the special moments without feeling guilty that more often than not, my life will feel just normal? Well, I answer myself, I guess it would be best just to treasure it all.

Maybe in the end it's not that I need to change much about my life. I don't need to spend an entire day complying to every one of Sam's whims in order for me to feel fulfilled and not have any regrets. In fact, that would be really unfortunate. What if life is really more about treasuring the mundane things because it's the mundane things that teach us how to really live? I don't need to feel guilty about every time I put Sam in time out or tell him to go play in his room by himself, because he learns things through those times that I could not teach him otherwise. This life is about learning and we have to experience the normal to learn that the exceptional is exceptional. How else would we appreciate it?

I guess the conclusion I've come to is that I need to live... like I am living. Because, I am. And at the end of the day, if something tragic or unfortunate occurs that changes my life forever I hope I can look back and say to myself, "It's ok, you lived like you were living and you did your best to love it."

Oh, Boy!

Hey Sam, do you want a huge sucker? 

 There's a reason I gave you this big sucker. Do you want to know what that reason is? 

 You know that blue is usually a color for boys, and pink is usually a color for girls, right? And what color is the sucker you are holding?

 What I'm trying to tell you, Sam, is that I'm giving you this sucker because I have some big news for you. 

You are going to be a big brother! And guess what? 

 You're getting a little brother! You aren't going to be the only boy anymore! 

Say "hello" to Olive baby boy #2. 

Baby's First Haircut

Ok, so I know that his haircut was long overdue. 

I think I was avoiding it because I have absolutely no experience with cutting hair and didn't want to make him look bad (plus his curls are just so cute, I didn't want to have to get rid of them). But alas, his hair kept falling into his eyes and it was starting to bug him so I decided to go ahead and take the plunge.

Before

Before

I had him watch a couple episodes of his favorite show- Shaun the Sheep. He didn't move the entire time. :)

After

After

After (He was very into his show.)

 He has some weird hair lines where his hair doesn't grow in spots that it probably should, so I did my best not to make him look like a monk. :) Overall, I feel like it wasn't a huge disaster, so that makes me happy. I can't believe how big he's  getting.