A Confession and Some Awesome News :)

For a while, I’ve lived with something I couldn’t explain. There were days (on rare occasions) where I couldn’t make myself leave my bedroom because of some unreasonable fear. A fear of something ridiculous, but I knew that I couldn’t handle whatever task I was supposed to accomplish outside of the house. Fears like: I didn’t want someone analyzing me while I was dancing because I couldn’t handle the criticism, I couldn’t talk with friends because I didn’t feel like putting on a smile and pretend that everything was right in the world (though nothing was particularly wrong), I couldn’t handle being surrounded by huge groups of family because I couldn’t handle being under scrutiny for not being as happy or as together as I should be. I hate calling people on the telephone unless they’re my parents or my siblings, and a very selective few friends. Why? Because I hate feeling like a bother to people, because I have a fear I’ll call someone, talk like a complete idiot and jumble up words – ending up not accomplishing anything, and having people angry at me.

It isn’t logical, it doesn’t make sense to anyone, not even myself.

Yesterday, I finally put two and two together and realized that I have a form of social anxiety. It’s small, it’s not huge. My panic attacks are minimal compared to people with serious conditions of depression and even more real anxiety. But I have it nonetheless.

I realized that I had a panic attack before I got married because everyone kept asking me questions. I had people questioning why I was getting married and saying mean things. People kept asking me things I didn’t know the answer to. I hated the first planning meeting because everyone was staring at me, expecting me to just have everything in perfect order, but I only knew minor details and in the back of my mind I was screaming about how I was going to pay for everything. I hated planning my wedding. At one point when I broke, and told my husband (my fiancé at the time) and my Aunt to just call off the reception.  My aunt told me I loved my wedding stress and I needed to love my wedding. I did love my wedding because the most important part didn’t cost money- just the time it took to be sealed to the man of my dreams. Everything outside of the temple meant pleasing people, entertaining people, greeting people, and listening to questions I wasn’t ready to answer yet.

I freaked out at my sister (who was ten at the time) who asked me about kids only a week after I got engaged, and frankly told her to shut up. Because I feared that everyone would just assume that if I got married, then I would just immediately become a mom- and that meant more questions, more unwanted advice, and having to please more people. I’m a loud talker about doing what you want, how you want, but part of me caves when I’m bombarded with questions and I second guess myself often. I can’t explain why I care so much, but I do.

When I lost a friend to suicide, I realized that I have feelings that could be destructive if I didn’t let people know what was going on. My family has a history of depression, and sometimes when I have my lows (not very common, but they are lows) I find myself wishing to hide from the world and just enjoy the darkness. So I made a personal commitment to being honest when people ask how I’m doing. It might be considered too much information, but I fear that if I don’t tell everyone, then who will catch me when I’m slipping?

Onto my news! 

Because all parasites look like worms right?

The sun is saying "Hi Daria!" because our favorite star really loves me. :)

I don't know why Richard looks so babyish. Oh well. He's still super cute. :)

*note: that is my baby's umbilical cord and NO! I DO NOT KNOW THE GENDER YET!*

I am going to be a mom!

Even though I was freaking out about it for a while, I’ve come to terms with being a mom, and I’m okay with it, and all the close family that I’ve told have been extremely supportive. But as the weeks of progressed, so have the hellish pains and misfortunes of pregnancy. Morning sickness has made it so I have to carry around a bucket. Pregnancy cramps feel worse than period cramps. And I feel like walking death. It’s hard, and my sense of humor has turned to biting sarcasm because of it. I didn’t want to share with the whole world until after the first trimester (which is coming up soon, thankfully), not because it’s the advice I was given, but because my anxiety has made me worry about all the questions people are going to ask (that of course I don’t know the answer to), the assumption that because I’m pregnant, that I’m going to categorized as a mom who gave up her hopes and dreams because she had kids, and that the only person interesting to talk to at family functions now, will be my husband.

Some family came and visited the scout camp hubby and I work at. They talked specifically to me 

about pregnancy for a little bit, told me that this will give me experience with boys, told me about how this child growing inside me is going to be a boy, and then proceeded to talk to Richard the rest of the time. It was as if my life is now on hold until I’m old and gray and all my children are grown before I become something more than just “pregnant”, something more than just a “mom”. Because I’m still Daria, no matter what my titles are.

I’m not saying that being a mom is a terrible job. I’m not saying that I’m not excited to be a mom. But I will say this now- I’m not going to be a stay at home mom. For my sanity, pray that I’m not a stay at home mom. I fully intend to continue my schooling until I get my degree, even if that means taking my newborn around campus with me. I’m not putting my education on hold because if I stop, I may never start up again. My child deserves a mom who has a degree, and is licensed to teach. I fully intend to become a teacher because it makes me happy. And you know what? Richard supports me fully in this hope and dream, just like I support him in his goal to become a seminary teacher and a novelist. We will figure things out and make things work- because that’s what family does.

As I was saying before, my anxiety has kept me from sharing this news with the world because I can’t handle criticism right now. This pregnancy is miserable enough as it is, I already struggle with finding the happy when I’m just trying to make it through the day and my job requires dealing with stupid teenage boys all day. It’s pretty hard. So to you friends who have a strong opinion that is anything less than supportive, I ask that you keep it to yourself. Like the saying goes, if you can’t say anything nice, than don’t say anything at all. You’re entitled to your opinion, but this is my body, my family and my child. If you don’t approve, and you’d rather nitpick and judge- then please remove me as a friend. I cannot emotionally or logically handle your cruel comments right now.  

Because this is how I'm always feeling:

Stomach Craving saying: "Get me some chips and pickles, oh and... juice..."

vs  Morning Sickness saying: "I didn't order ANY of this! Send it back at once! I have a refined pallet!"  

Tribute to My Mother

Yesterday was the most amazing woman in the world's birthday! 

She doesn't see herself as the perfect mom, because the house is rarely ever spotless, there's always a load of laundry to be done, and dishes will forever be piling up. But she was the one who taught me how to scrub the floor, do my own laundry, and how to wash dishes by hand. 

My mom never has baked cookies for you right when you open the door. Her hair is never a neat and beautiful sculpture to be admired. She also was never one to have everything organized so anyone could find anything. But my mom always has a fun story to tell whenever I visit. She is always working on a beautiful art project that shows just how wonderful her mind and her soul is. She also will know exactly that strange feeling you get, whatever it is, and understand what you're talking about, even if you're still trying to figure it out. 

You see, my mom is the best mom for me and my siblings. Because we need a mom who makes up stories about the fairies that live all around the house and get very upset when we leave big messes. I need a mom who isn't afraid to answer any awkward question I have about life and it's mysteries, so I can learn to be open. I need a mom who will call me when I'm all alone and sick to my stomach, so she can read one of my favorite books to make me feel better. 

I am eternally grateful for the sacrifices my mother made for me, my siblings, and our family. She was sick throughout every single pregnancy. She had to put of with our fights, chickenpox, the stubborn child like myself who literally had to be dragged to school. She would let me snuggle with her when I had nightmares. She would tell me how to improve my artwork even though all I wanted to hear was "good job". My mom taught me the beauty of nature, of the natural body, and how to appreciate how other people see the world. My mom taught me that it's perfectly acceptable to sing at the top of your lungs while washing dishes, or other awful chores.

My mom is the kind of mom who never has the same favorite song, because she finds a new one that makes her soul happy and will listen to it on end. She's the kind of mom who can watch her favorite movie over and over again while she draws because it lets her hands do the art, while her brain is busy enjoying the dialogue. My mom is the kind of mom who get's excited when a new idea for her stories make everything come together! My mom is the kind of mom who likes to play World of Warcraft so she can do pet battles and get all the cute (or scary) creatures so she can give them creative names. My mom is the kind of mom that squeals with delight when I give her Star Wars Squinkies for Christmas (and the next year, proceeds to make them into ornaments). 

Because my mom is the mom that finds the fun first, and does the boring everyday chores second. "A Spoonful of Sugar" and "When We're Helping We're Happy" and "Have I Done Any Good in the World Today" were songs that I remember most while we had to do the boring things.  

My mom is also the kind of mom who, for as long as I've known her, has never liked her birthday, or other holidays for that matter. That's okay. I understand that her childhood wasn't fun, and things that happen when your young can leave lasting scars. That is why this tribute to her has come today, rather than yesterday. 

You see, I'm glad my mother came to this earth. I'm glad that even though it was painful, she has gotten to experience life, with all it's laughter and sorrow, that she brought me and my siblings into this world.

My mother doesn't have things easy. She fights with bipolar 2 and her meds are never quite right. She can't handle crowds. There was a long moment where she believed that no one would miss her, and walked out to Antelope island on her own with the intention to leave this world behind.

But don't think for a moment that my mother is anything else but strong. Because she's still here. She still puts up a fight. She still get's mad that her brain doesn't want to work right, instead of giving into the darkness that tries to consume her. She still tries to give what she can, like a phone call to give me support when my day sucks. My mother is a fighter, a dreamer, a singer who's off key cause it's funny, and best of all, MY mother.

I love you mom.