James the Dazzling Daddy, Fantastical Father, and Prodigious Parental Unit

James is a good father... and also a good husband. I like him.

Last night our poor baby starting acting ill... The first sign was that she started nursing twice as much as if something was bothering her. She'd been congested all day, was coughing, and sounded hoarse whenever she cried. And, as James pointed out, she did not realize that the worst thing you can do for your sore throat is to scream at the top of your lungs for as long as possible.

Well, we went to bed. I soon realized that nursing her to sleep was not going to work its usual wonders... In fact, because she was so congested, she just got more worked up and frustrated the more she nursed. Soon I ended up with a screaming baby. I tried singing for her, but that wasn't working so well.

James came down and started bouncing with her on our exercise ball, which calmed her down some. (She doesn't like it as much when I do it for some reason.) She wasn't completely appeased though, and complained a bit until he started singing. She was quiet until our neighbors pounded on the wall for him to shut up. Sigh. That was somewhat depressing, but Amelia rewarded them by crying with renewed vigor.

If Amelia has the same kind of sick that I am right now, I sympathize with her. I was also feeling sick to my stomach and sore all over. (Gugh.) Because I was feeling ill, James sent me to bed. He also did so because I was going to be taking care of her for the entirety of the next day (or at least until he came home after the sun went down). It was very nice of him.

Amelia woke us up a few more times in the night; if feeding didn't soothe her, James would take her downstairs for more bouncing. She'd eventually fall asleep in his arms, but in order to keep her calm and asleep, he'd have to continue bouncing. She'd also flail a lot in while sleeping, and the weight of his hands on her arms kept her calm.

I think Amelia likes James. Once I went to visit him on campus with Amelia. She'd been grumpy on the bus ride, but as soon as she saw James her face blossomed into a beautiful smile. Then the two of them played a bit. It was cute.

James is also pretty awesome in that he listens to me if I think he should be doing something better. Just this week, I noticed something he was doing that bothered me. For much of the time when he was holding Amelia in the evenings after coming home from school, he'd basically try to get her to be quiet and ignore her while playing on the computer. I told him that this was fine and dandy in small amounts, but it was happening enough that it made me sad. After some thought, I suggested that instead he explain to her what he was doing...

So now, James will talk to her about his email. He will explain StarCraft to her as he watches the professionals play. And if he's playing a silly game on Kongregate, he'll explain that to her as well. (Pew! Pew! Hey Amelia, see the blue guys? They are bad. Pew pew!)

James is so nice. I really appreciate him, especially because he lets me have some "me" time each evening.¹ Sigh. He's so awesome. (Can you tell I'm completely smitten?)

Oh, and one more thing. He makes me food all the time, and cleans the apartment fairly often.² Mmmm, husbands are delicious.

Love with hearts popping out of our heads,
Jenna and Amelia


1 Before Amelia, I actually disliked showers with a hefty dose of dread. I hated getting wet. I don't like it. But now, after she's arrived, I find that I eagerly anticipate my showers each day. They are luxuriously wonderful... hot water, being clean... and I can't even hear baby screams over the water sounds.^↩

2 As motivation to be productive every day, he has the following goals: leave the house Monday through Friday by 7:30am or clean one room; be productive for all but one hour from 8am to 5pm each Monday through Friday or clean one room; no playing games until after studying for at least one hour each day (on Sundays this means some sort of gospel study); and, most recently added, check the Internet only three times daily. At this rate, he'll be even more awesome in no time. :)^↩

My Pride and Joy

This is a rather self-reflective post. I am now summoning deep thoughts. Oooohmmm...

Since having Amelia, I have especially noticed two feelings in myself... one being my pride and the other being my joy.

Pride

So... I'm pretty sure there's a piece of my brain (possibly called the my-baby-is-awesome gyrus) running in overdrive. Whenever Amelia is extreme in anyway, I feel the need to brag.

Take, for instance, Amelia's size. She's pretty big. This morning she weighed 16.5 lbs, and she is now wearing size 3 diapers. She's somewhere above the 95th size percentile, despite having been born a little over two weeks early.

Now, I'm very aware that big does not equal superior. But the my-baby-is-awesome gyrus begs to differ. Of course Amelia is the best baby in the world. She is superior because she's huge. She's also super smart, and could easily win a baby beauty contest. ...Yeah. So says the my-baby-is-awesome gyrus. This area of my brain is completely immune to reason, and I suspect it sees superiority in all my Amelia-related observations. Heck, if Amelia had the longest nose hair ever, I think it would use this fact as proof of her awesomeness.

So... I'll admit it. I think my baby is better than yours. And I don't feel the slightest bit guilty about it, because I'm sure you feel exactly the same way about your baby, too. And really, doesn't everyone need someone to believe they're awesome?

So that isn't the problematic pride, I don't think. But I do consider pride to be my biggest weakness. I think pretty highly of myself. Hopefully this should not come as a surprise to you.

The problematic pride comes when I begin thinking more highly of myself than I think of pretty much anyone else. I've noticed that I am particularly proud of my parenting skills, to the extent that I prickle inside whenever anyone gives me advice. I find this really annoying, because I've noticed this irritation regardless of who is giving the advice. Really though, I find lots of advice helpful, particularly from family members, including in-laws. (So please, keep giving me advice.)

But there you have it. In some irrational part of my mind, I am the most expert mother on the planet. I realize, of course, that I'm not, but it sure doesn't feel that way.

I do want to remedy this. So, question... How does one become humble? You hear all the time that if you don't humble yourself, God'll do it for you, but... Sigh. I'd wager that the first step is to recognize you have a problem, then feel some good ol' godly sorrow and want to change, and then pray for help, but beyond that, I'm stuck. I think I need an "Idiot's Guide to Humility".

I am very curious to hear your thoughts on this. Both James and I really struggle with pride, so he's not an expert in humility either. Halp!

Joy

Now for the lighthearted part of this post. Amelia makes me ridiculously happy inside, enough so that I am absolutely certain I am in the throes of excessively hormonal emotions. To give you an idea how far gone I am, recall how difficult my pregnancy was. Now remember how childbirth was no piece of cake. And lastly, remember Amelia's month-long bout of colicky crying...

Okay, got that all fresh in your mind? Now imagine this. Even in the midst of Amelia's most desperately loud cries, after hours of tears, I catch myself thinking, I really like Amelia. I should have MORE babies, ASAP.

I think I am now certifiably insane and legitimately baby crazy. Recall my reluctance during pregnancy to have more than one or two babies... Well, now I'm just itching to spend the rest of my days procreating. I get a little excited whenever I have a little stomachache, because maybe it's morning sickness! ... You know, even though there's this contraception stuff, and high levels of prolactin coursing through my system, both of which are preventing me from conceiving. And good thing too, because my ever-reasonable brain insists now would be a very bad time to get pregnant again.

My new-found baby craziness really surprises me, actually. Before Amelia popped out, I would never have considered myself a baby person. Like EVER. As a teenager, when all the other Young Women were cooing over the babies in the ward, I was quite content to remain at the opposite end of the church building. I dreaded babysitting. I was pretty ignorant of basic baby care and didn't care to correct this... because it would mean hanging out with babies. Yyyyick. Heck, I even had a hard time when people started calling babies cute. Say whaaat? That purple, wrinkly thing? Cute? If you say so...

Behold! See how the mighty have fallen! I lay awake at night thinking up baby names¹, because I'm going to need a lot, that's for sure. I only have four names picked out, and I'll need at least thirty, right? I hoard all our too-small baby clothes, because clearly I will need them again... for several agains. Clearly, I cannot share my baby gear wealth, right? Heck, I'm so far gone, I can barely contain the itch to collect baby boy clothes.

Anyway, babies everywhere,²
Jenna and Amelia


1 I still really like the names Abigail Joy and Adela Katharine... I've convinced myself my second daughter will be Abigail, and my third will be Adela. And as for boys... I still struggle with that. James and I joke about naming our first son James Tiberius Dilts III, but after spending Thanksgiving in the same house as James Mohan Dilts (James' nephew), I'm not so sure. I don't think I'll be able to handle the confusion caused by having two boys (father and son) who both go by James/Jimmy/Jim in one dwelling, and I can't imagine myself calling my son Tiberius, despite the nerd value (think Star Trek's Captain Kirk)... so... If we do name our first son James, it might be James Griffin Dilts instead. And then we can call him Griffin. I'm okay with that.^↩

2 This is a reference to this Nutrigrain commercial.^↩

How My Neuroscience Degree Has Made Me a Better Mother

In one word, it's made me confident.

Here's why. I've learned how to read, understand, and critique research in the fast-growing field of neuroscience, which means that whenever I hear a piece of parenting advice, I know how to find out if that advice is actually good advice or bad advice. And then once I know that... well, then I can easily dismiss advice I know isn't supported by research. Or, when someone expresses doubts about my parenting style, I can confidently explain to them why I'm parenting the way I am. It's glorious.

For instance, you all know that Amelia had a month-long bout of colic, so I got tons of advice. One piece of advice I heard repeatedly was to put the baby in the crib and then let her cry it out until she falls asleep. Now, while this is certainly better than losing your cool, shaking the baby, and thus giving her a concussion, or worse, causing brain damage or even death... I know that if I'm emotionally, mentally, and physically able to, I should respond to Amelia's cries. Always, always, always!

Besides leaving your baby to cry alone so that you don't lose your sanity and hurt the little one, the biggest rationale I've heard for letting your baby "cry it out" is that this fosters independence.

Um, no. It doesn't. Here's what happening in baby's brain. Lots of stress hormones (the most notable of which is cortisol) are being released while baby is screaming, and your baby's brain is being bathed in them. It turns out that, contrary to popular opinion, babies are completely incapable of soothing themselves for the first few months of life. When a parent soothes a baby, a beautiful biochemical cascade happens to stop more stress hormones from being released and to help clear out some of the stress hormones already coursing through baby's body.

Here's the part that might seem counter-intuitive to someone without a background in neuroscience. Most people would guess that in order for a child to learn how to deal with stress, they need to practice dealing with it on their own. Not so! They aren't actually going to learn how to deal with stress very well unless you keep helping then calm down.

So, why does this make perfect sense from a neuroscience standpoint? Think brain cells, my friends.

Everyone is born with roughly 100 billion brain cells, also known as neurons. And then, guess what? As you develop, lots of them die off. Wait a minute, you say, wouldn't you get brain cells as you got smarter? Nope. It's the connections between the neurons that matter much more. Connections, connections, connections.

As your brain develops, the neurons you use make connections with each other. And the neurons you don't use... get murdered. The saying goes, "Use 'em or lose 'em!" This is certainly true with regards to neurons.

Back to why you should help your baby calm down as much as you can without driving yourself insane. When you trigger the calming cascade in your baby, the neurons in charge of dealing with stress are used, make more connections, and flourish. When you let your baby "cry it out", those cells don't really get used, and so they might remain weak and rarely used, or even die off. Sad!¹

Now, I hope I haven't scared everyone. It's not that easy to "ruin" your kid. The brain is plastic (meaning it's always changing). One event is really unlikely to give your child depression or destroy their ability to deal with stress forever. So yeah. Sometimes I am not able to calm Amelia, and I'm going bonkers, and I really don't think it's wise to hold the baby when I'm that far gone. If no one else is around to help out, that means I leave her alone to cry it out and eventually give up and pass out. I've done this a few times.

However, if I can, I do my best to be there for her. If I can't soothe her, and I'm not losing it completely, I just hold her the whole time she cries. This is biochemically a much better option than leaving her alone, because it turns out that even just holding a crying baby triggers a calming cascade... and even if that's not enough to make everything better and make her stop crying, it does help the baby to know that I am always there for her. I can't always fix the problem, but she can cry with me. I'm there.

So yeah. I feel great about parenting. And you know, I think even during the colic, I was fairly confident. You know, for a parent dealing with colic. I think it's impossible not to wonder if you're inadequate when your baby never stops crying, but it was nice to know that I was being a good mom.

You know, I so wish this information was around a hundred years ago. About a hundred years ago, they started telling parents to ignore all their instincts in childcare in the interest of fostering independence. Except it kind of backfired. A few decades ago, "experts" told moms to avoid holding their babies as much as possible, not to look at their babies while holding them, and to ignore their cries. "Experts" told parents to put their babies to sleep on their stomachs to foster earlier mobility (therefore earlier independence). Even worse, they advised putting baby to sleep alone in a crib in their own room. That's pretty much a baby's worst nightmare. Oh, and let's not forget the "experts" telling moms that their breastmilk was bad for their babies, and that they should instead feed them formula.

And you know what the worst part is? Most everyone just said, Oh yeah, of course that would help babies become independent. Nobody bothered to test out these hypotheses before accepting them as truth. Now, a few generations later, we figure out that this was all wrong.

So here I am, coming back to my bottom line: neuroscience makes me confident in my parenting abilities. It's made me realize that my instincts are pretty much spot on. My instinct is to hold the crying baby. That's right. My instinct is to keep her close to me at night. That is great for baby in pretty much every way--emotionally, mentally, physically, developmentally... And nursing² my baby is best thing ever. I love it so much. Baby loves it so much. Yeah. And I could go on. And maybe I will later, but James is making tasty empanadas.

Love and neurons,
Jenna and Amelia

_____
1 It's true, though, that letting baby cry it out will train your baby to stop crying. This is really scary, because the neuroscience research tells us these babies are just as stressed as (if not more than) babies who cry when stressed. They stopped crying, not because they're no longer stressed, but because they've essentially given up and don't think help will ever come. This means that they may never get that practice in dealing with stress with the help of a parent. Sad. So yeah. I want my baby to cry if she's stressed, because then I can help her out.^↩

2 Another thing I think is unfortunate. Our society is very anti-toddler-nursing. That's stupid. There are excellent reasons to wean a child, yes, but honestly? "Too old to nurse"? Why? Why are they too old to nurse? "If they can ask for it, they're too old?" Well, that's fine and dandy, but why in the heck is that true? It's awkward? ... Yeah. That's dumb. Biologically, our babies aren't designed to be completely weaned until the ages of 2.5 to 7 years. And they wean themselves when they're ready. Heck, I could write an entire post about nursing in today's society. But I'm not sure I should, because it makes me prickle with agitation. And it might be controversial. I don't like conflict. I should go hide under a bed and mutter to myself.^↩

The Story of James and Me

Warning: This is uber-detailed. If you want the short version, here it is: James and I met in a dance class. We dated for two weeks, and James was so twitterpated that he already wanted to marry me. This scared me, so I broke up with him and broke his heart. We stayed friends. Two months later, I realized that I had warmed to the idea of marrying the guy, so even though we weren't dating at all, I essentially proposed to him (i.e. told him to propose to me). We got married eight months later.

Now, for the loooong version, complete with lots of fascinating footnotes. You should probably go get some popcorn. Or whatever your traditional snack is.

James and I met¹ in a dance class at BYU. For those of you who are familiar with the dance department there, it was Dance 380: Advanced Social Dance taught by Marci every Monday afternoon. That means we were learning fancy moves in foxtrot, rumba, West Coast swing, triple swing, and a few others. The class was set up so that we'd switch partners every five to ten minutes or so, which meant we got to dance with each other once or twice every class period.

I could never remember James' name for the life of every hamster on earth. That's okay, though, because James couldn't remember my name either. For some reason, though, the name Laura (his mother's name) kept coming to mind. The thing was, though, he knew my name wasn't Laura, so whenever it was our turn to dance together, he'd greet me like so: "Hi, not-Laura!"

The final exam would be on triple swing--the most animated, bouncy dance ever. I don't spontaneously bounce... like at all. In fact, I find it rather laborious to bounce as much as the triple swing requires.

Naturally, I wanted to do well on my final exam. I figured the best way to do that was to find a high-energy, bouncy, fun dance partner. I showed up to the final exam and scanned the room for somebody that fit that description. My eyes landed on James. He was rambunctiously and flamboyantly telling a story to a small group of our classmates. Ah, yes. He will most definitely do.

James accepted my request to dance with him, and we spent the time before our test practicing until we were tired of that. Then we sat down on the stage and started your typical get-to-know-you conversation. James decided my major (neuroscience) was nerdy enough so he asked me on a date for the following Saturday.

I accepted². James borrowed his roommate's car³ and we went rock climbing. I was super nervous about this, as I'd never done it before and I'm scared of heights. Furthermore, I have never been in amazing shape and am generally nervous about physical activity in general. But to my pleasure, James was a fantastic, patient, and very reassuring teacher; so, although I had anticipated feeling humiliated after climbing, I only felt tired.

After climbing, we went to Jamba Juice for tasty noms and talked for quite a while. It got to be time to go, but I was having a good time and didn't want it to end, so I invited him to my place to watch Back to the Future. We did that, and then James really, really had to go because he was already late for work (he worked the night shift at a hotel).

On his way out the door, James said something along the lines of "Call me", to which I said I would. And, strangely, I found myself actually wanting to do something with him again... enough so that I was actually willing to call him. How unusual.

Before I got the chance to come up with an activity to do with him, James called me and invited me to play four square at his place. Lucky for him, four square is one of the few games I actually enjoy, so I drove myself over there and had a great time. Eventually, the four square game stopped and everyone went to FHE at a park. I decided to accompany James there.

We talked some more and ate lots of cookies while most of the other singles played soccer. I expressed my great love for tasty food. James, smooth as ever, jumped at the opportunity and offered to make me biscuits and gravy that coming Sunday. I was okay with that. After FHE, we went back to his apartment and talked until midnight. I made myself attractive in many ways, including my familiarity with the ultra-nerdy webcomic xkcd. I discovered that James had already Facebook stalked me; apparently all my photos told him that I was pretty cool. Like this one. (It was for a homework assignment, I promise!)

Six days ended up being too long to wait for another date; James called me and asked me out again for Saturday. While the original plan had been to fly kites, it turned out to be cold and rainy... so we went bowling (after trying to fly kites, because kites are fun).

After bowling, we headed to my place to watch Star Wars IV. I put in the DVD and pressed play, then sat on the couch... a few feet away from James. A few minutes later, I realized how awkward that was, but... it's not so subtle if you just get up and plop yourself down closer to the guy. What to do, what to do?

My phone rang. I got up to get it, talked for thirty seconds or so, hung up... and replaced myself on the couch, squarely in James' arms. He did not complain. We cuddled. James wrote in his journal that day,

"Oh frabjous day! Caloo! Calay! :D :D :) :) :)"

The following morning I had a conversation with Robby⁴ about our dating lives. Robby was glad to hear that James and I were getting along. He asked if we were going to start dating. I pondered for a moment, then said, no, I can't do that because James will be moving to Oregon shortly⁵, and I have a whole year left before I graduate. I intensely disliked long-distance relationships. Fortunately for me, Robby had some good sense and told me that was a stupid reason not to date James. I admitted that Robby was right... and therefore resolved to begin dating James exclusively.

Later that day, James came over to make biscuits and gravy. It was super tasty. Then we watched Star Wars V. Nerds in the audience will be glad to hear that our first kiss was during the credits. A nerdworthy kiss, indeed. James wrote of this day,

"I really like her. Motivated, smart, pretty, nerdy, a great cuddler. It's probably way too early to be thinking about this, but I could see myself marrying her. We'll see how things work out."

Next day. We went to FHE together. There was a teeny, tiny rocking horse there. I saw it, ran over with glee, and began riding it, with my knees bent up past my ears. ... All the people there looked at me like I was a crazy person. James LOVED it though, and this endeared me to him even more. Later he wrote in his journal,

"We talked about [...] how I like her more than she likes me, which understandably alarmed me. Though she went on to say that a lot of that was that she just goes slower than I do. [...] Worries me, because I am thoroughly twitterpated. I haven't noticed a single thing yet that makes me wish it were different. I hope I'm good enough for her. Hmm... I've never said that before... She is way up there, apparently, in my opinion. She's so cool. If she dropped me, I would be heartbroken already. I don't think it's just hormones either!"

Now, most of the rest of the story is best told by James' journal. He becomes increasingly infatuated, as you can see from this entry from the next day.

"I've started pretty much constantly praying to be good enough for Jenna. With how fast I've gone, and how I know I like her more, it makes me really nervous. I really like her. [...] I mentioned the thing about how I haven't found anything bad yet. Didn't freak her out. She mentioned a few things that made me feel better. Like how her bosses noticed how much she was smiling. Oh, I really like this girl."

Next day.

"I woke up this morning at 8 by a text message from Jenna, saying 'Good morning, wonderful!' Too early, but still a wonderful way to get woken up. Especially after being worried last night. [... He walks me home that day...] During the short walk home there was a brief lull in conversation and after it made me freak out. Gall, I'm so easily worried in a relationship. I just need to calm down. She really likes me, I really like her, and it'll all work out. But I just wish I weren't so needy! Oh well. At 10pm I got woken up to a text saying, "Gooooooood niiiiiiiiight!" What a wonderful girl."

Next day.

"Again got up to the text. What a girl. [...] She said she might not go to work today because she wasn't feeling well, so during lunch I started out to visit her... But then found out she had gone to work, so I napped instead. [...] I bought two ice cream bars and went off to find Jenna's work. I found it, and she was really happy for the ice cream bar. I had offered to make chicken rice soup because she was sick, and she said she certainly wouldn't turn it down, so I [...] got the stuff for it. I got to her place just as she arrived. And I started cooking. And finished. It was quite yummy. Yay! [...] I really appreciate that girl. [...] She asked me what she was going to do when I left for Oregon. I said that by that point we would have it figured out one way or the other. Closest we've gotten to talking about marriage. I'm thinking I'll fast and pray about it shortly after I get back from Tunisia [he would be going there for a math conference in about a week or so]. Bwaaaaaaa!"

Two days later...

"Bwaaaaa! I love that girl! [...] We went and hiked up the Y. Conversation was a bit sparse on the way up, but that was because she was too busy breathing. We stopped at every swtichback to let her rest. At the top and on the way down we had a really good conversation. One thing I asked her is what she would say if I proposed. Context: this is the same day [as in same number of days after first date] and activity my dad used [to propose to my mom]; so it was a funny, not serious, question. She told me what I expected which was essentially "Woah!! Slow down, boy!" ... Anyway, we also talked about how she wanted to serve a mission, but God told her not to. And mentioned how if she had been planning to go, she would have told me, "You're nice, but I'm going..." I drew an inference she might only have glanced at... Anyway, we went down, got all pretty, ate pie Tim had made, then went to Cliff and Ari's reception. It was really good... Because Jenna was there. Yay! We talked about helium and nitrogen and other fun stuff. After, we went to her place and talked and cuddled. Yay for her! I'm so gone. After I went home, I told my roomies the only thing holding me back is that if I proposed right now, she would say no due to speed. If things go as they are, I will propose most likely a week or two after I return from Tunisia. Bwaaaaaaa!"

Next day. We'd been talking, when there was a lull in conversation. I looked over at James' face to see a dreamy, far-gone look in his eyes. After some experiences with a few other guys at BYU, I had come to recognize this look as the look that means a man wants to marry me. So I asked him what he was thinking. (I'm so mean.)

"At one point she asked me what I was thinking at an awkward point, but after many heart palpitations I told her, "I'm sad I have to wait so long to propose." She freaked out a little, but inside, where I couldn't see it. We talked about it a little. We'll see what happens. Here's for being open... Only sixteen days from our first date. Wow... Anyway, she left, but her car was gone... got towed... So we went to go pick it up. She said that was the most stressful part of the day, so I can't be doing that bad..."

Next day.

"We went to her place and talked till midnight. About marriage, [...] parenting, trust, etc. It was a very deep, serious conversation. I really like her. She's such a good person. And she said I was too! [...] Yay! The only reasons she told me about maybe saying no was 1. It's been so short a time (OK, that'll decrease the longer she vacillates [sic]) 2. I'll be gone forever this fall/winter (OK, she knows it's not a good reason if it's right) 3. I move too much when we snuggle (Uh oh! This is dangerous!) I'm thinking I'll be ok for right now..."

Next day. He's starting worrying. I'm starting to drift away.

"We talked, and she mentioned again that I like her more than she likes me. What I need to be is patient. Even if this is the right thing, I shouldn't expect her to decide so quickly, even if I want her to. I will pray for that."

Next day.

"We snuggled for a long time, but then we read a conference talk together, which was really good. I hope to study with her almost everyday now. Today's marriage talk was about how she's not sure how much she likes me, because I'm like pears and pineapples to Robby, the last guy she thought about marrying. Oh, my poor worrying heart!"

He's such a drama king. Two days later.

"Jenna and I went to Nicolatalia's for pizza. Meat lovers. So good, soooo greasy. Then we watched Spirited Away. She told me she was leaning towards "No" just before I left, and it has been freaking me out for the last day. I really like her, and I think I would like to marry her. I've prayed about it, and when I do I get a warm feeling, but the last few times my head has been fuzzy. I'm going to fast about it when I get back. I really, really like her."

Two days later. I broke up with James. I'd been praying about it and was getting a "Well, if you want to, go for it." And at that point, I didn't want to, so my answer to James was "No." Apparently I did not clearly explain this to James, because he thought I said that God said no. Ooops.

"We watched YouTube videos for a while, then it came up. She feels she got a "no" from God. At first I just thought she wasn't sure and so maybe back off. Then she clarified. I was (am) so confused. I thought I had been getting a yes! It's painful on both sides. I prayed in her bathroom and I'm ok with it now... But if she felt justified in coming back, I would be happy for the chance to ask God again. Sigh. We still really like each other, maybe even love... but God has (99%) spoken. Sigh... Not the answer I wanted. I talked to Mom⁶ on my way to work, then worked... And was depressed. I curled up on the floor at one point." 

So after James left my apartment that night, I went into my bathroom to grab some tissues to dry my eyes with. Turns out that my bathroom window was open, and James was outside on the phone with his mom... so I could hear every word. I eavesdropped on the entire conversation until he biked off to work for the night. It made me even sadder, but I figured breaking up with him now was better than leading him on for a few months... right?

And then James flew to London. Excerpts from James' trip to London and Tunisia:

"I really miss Jenna. And what's worse is that even if I were home, I wouldn't get to be with her... She's been on my mind all the time. I wish she would reverse her decision, but only if God allowed it. I'm not quite stupid enough to disregard His advice, however much it may suck. A lot... Sigh..." "I went on an hour long walk/sit on the beach [in Tunisia in the middle of the night] to think about Jenna and such. Sigh... No real conclusions. [Essentially, he sat and cried on the Mediterranean beach.]"

James came home to Provo. About a month later we went to the Malt Shoppe with the Social Dance Club. Now this was pretty awkward because it was really only the hard-core club members... and us two awkward love-birds. I think they probably thought it was the beginning of a relationship and not a post-break up one.

"I just got back from seeing Jenna for the first time since we broke up. I've talked to her via texting or G-chat since then, but this is the first face-to-face. And my reaction was still, I have to find someone that fits me better than her? Sigh. It was really nice to see her, but I'm a bit jealous of the fact that she's going on a date this weekend. Despite the fact I told her I was going on one too. I thought I was mostly over her, but this made it clear I am definitely not. She's so great and cool. But now untouchable. I wish I could spend so much time with her. But this is idle wishing. But, dang it, I want to fight for her, but I can't. The only way I could justify it is if God told me to. But that might be kind of hard. But I should ask. Sigh."

Poor James. A week later.

"My mom sent me an email in response to mine about last Tuesday saying if I so feel inspired, I should go for Jenna in a particular way. Interesting... [...] I need to fast and pray about it."

A few days later.

"I had a text conversation with Jenna and I invited myself over to color with her tomorrow. Sweet!"

He likes me so much, he even notes every time I text him in his journal! Ay caramba! Next day.

"I went to Jenna's to color. It was way fun... then some other guys were gonna come over, and it was fun, just less so. Oh well."

These others boys were my pseudo-brother Clifton and one of Clifton's mission companions. James was a little jealous of them; I could tell. After James left, the other two looked at me and burst into laughter. "What?" I demanded. "He likes you. A lot, a lot." Oh... I felt a little bad about that. I mean, I wanted to be friends, but was I leading him on? A few days later.

"It happened that Jenna texted me when I was free. She talked about bubbles she had. I tried to get her to invite me over, but I had to invite myself. She was happy for it, as she told me later. I was there for two hours... till midnight. What to say about it? It was great fun, she called me cute during a pillow fight, and I got incredibly sick to my stomach when she talked about another boy [...] that she would marry if he asked. She said that that is why she felt weird today, but during our G-chat conversation later she revealed that it was also because she missed me. Sigh... Argh! As I just told my roomie Bryan, I can't see myself having stronger feelings about anyone else. If this isn't the kind of love you get married for, what is??? The thought of her marrying someone else just makes me so sick to my stomach. Anyway, there's a lot more I could write about, but I won't."

Next day, I was considering coming to James' dance class, since there were more men than women. Regarding this possibility, James wrote:

"Cool, but also... Well, to have her around me that often... Will I ever get her out of my head? My current plan is to fast and pray during the ward temple trip next Wednesday to ask God in the temple for the first time. With [a previous girlfriend James was considering marrying], I felt conflicted till I did the same. All day I've been pondering whether or not I am sure that marrying her would be OK, so I can bring God a decision. I still can't think what would be bad, but I'm trying. I know not perfect things about her (her health, for example), but I'm not worried about those at all. Oh... What to do, what to do... Bleh. The thing I most worry about is how she had said before I like her more than she likes me. Why? What am I that she doesn't like? I may or may not be willing/able to change it, but it'd be nice to know. Maybe she just doesn't know. Also, should I rush it? Probably not. Maybe I should  just build up a really strong friendship for a month first. Seems like a good idea. Good no matter how God answers."

I went to James' dance class once. And it felt so good to be in his arms, waltzing... Too good. So I stopped coming. Next day.

"To Jenna's. We watched Ponyo, then talked. Eventually the whole breaking up/marriage thing came up. I brought up how Rebekah felt [Jenna] hadn't made a decision then prayed, Jenna replied that she had. (Ouch.) But apparently since that day her vague "no" answer was clarified to that it would have been fine if she had wanted to. So we talked about it, and we'll be each other's back ups. I.e. We'll see where we are in a year, and see again. It was about as good as I could expect, and I finally feel peace with everything. This seems right to me in the way a straight "no" didn't. All our assorted feelings/answers/inspirations fit right now. [...] She mentioned she had nowhere to go when she graduated (unless she was married) and Oregon sounded better than her home in Arizona. Interesting..."

I am feeling a bit conflicted. I want to be friends, but really, I'm just starting to like him more... Over a week later, James writes:

"Was talking to Jenna about how today is Cow Appreciation Day. I had to invite myself, but we dressed up as cows and then she drove [us] up to Chick-Fil-A to get a free meal. Yum! We then went shopping, and I bought her stuff because she's broke. I napped on her couch till work time."

I wonder what it was he bought me. I forgot. Anyway, while we were eating our Chick-Fil-A, two of my acquaintances showed up for the free food as well. One of them called James my boyfriend. I corrected him. ... It got really awkward after that, and my acquaintances basically ran off to escape the awkwardness. Two days later.

"Went to Jenna's for lemonade ice cream. It was pretty good! We went shopping, talked about her possible abandonment of med school for marriage/kids. Tough choice, though she knows what she wants right now. I helped get ready for dinner group, stayed for a piece of it, then came home and went to the Bishop's for FHE. [...] It's kind of sad on my part, but despite Jenna having told me she's wanted to marry others more than me (it came up, it wasn't to get me to back off), I still want to hang out a lot and talk while I'm in Oregon and so on the off chance she'll change her mind in the future. I like her a lot, but I don't know how wise this is, because if she started dating someone, or, worse, decided to marry someone, I would be devastated. Horribly so, I think. Though I would be happy that she's happy. Should I try to get over her? Because I just don't care about getting to know other people well because I'm thinking of her in comparison. It's not fair because I don't know them well, but still... Maybe this is the question I need to ask in the temple. Should I start trying to get over her? I think I could if I needed to. If I had to."

A few days later.

"Went to Jenna's to watch Wall-E with some others. Good fun. With some flirtatious tom-foolery. Sigh... Which was not really flirtatious because it was Jenna doing it. I just wanted to hold her. Probably not healthy. What are the chances she'll make it till next April single? Not that good in my mind... Sigh..."

I was feeling conflicted, because I still liked James... as well as a few other boys, whom I liked just as much. A few days later.

"Texted Jenna to invite her to play with bubble wrap with me tomorrow right after 5. She said yes... And right after I remembered I'm supposed to practice dance... Sigh... So I had to text her back to change it to Thursday. Sooooo embarrassing."

Two days later. He'd gotten me a birthday present, but then I broke up with him, so it didn't get delivered. He finally decided to give it to me about two months late. I loved it. I loved it a lot. I remember thinking, "Wow. No one else has ever gotten me a gift that shows they know me so well!"

"Got Jenna's old birthday present, then went to her place. She liked the iced Animal Crackers, absolutely adores the plushie gryphon, and we had great fun popping the bubble wrap. We sang some hymns, talked, etc. She was more touchy today, but I'm (unfortunately) sure it means nothing. But it is hard on me, though I enjoy it. Sigh..."

A few days later.

"To Jenna's for a movie. After I left her place, I sent her a text asking if she wanted to go for a walk. She wasn't tired, so we did. Oh yeah, important background. I did pull her in during the movie, but she totally let me. So I got to hold her. Anyway. We talked from 12:30am to 5am... Wow. And since it was so late, we were quite candid with each other. We talked about our feelings, [other boys Jenna liked and was considering pursuing], and the possibility of a future marriage. She is, as expected going to go for [the others] first. But, if she happens to not choose them, or them her, she will likely move to Oregon to marry me. [...] It's weird to me, and more so to her, but I'm willing to play second fiddle if I have to to get her. Even more so now (the next night) it makes me feel weird and nervous just thinking about it, but I think it is perfectly all right for me to do. She's just such an amazing awesome girl. I'm keeping my eyes open, of course, but the likelihood I find someone better in the next year is quite small. We also talked about "cookies", things that aren't bad, but are probably bad for you, like us snuggling tonight... It's sad, but true. But now we have a new inside joke! Yay! Our goodbye hug was certainly a cookie. Long and not completely platonic. I love that girl."

After this conversation, I finally realized I needed to make a decision. I was so, so, sooo conflicted. I even got a blessing from my pseudo-brother to help me calm down and decide. A day or two later while I was at work, I started to think about it in a different light. I graphed the intensity of how much I liked a boy over time, and I saw then that the line which represented how much I liked James had the highest slope. I extrapolated and decided that meant I'd be happiest if I married him instead of one of the others.

It was so refreshing to have made a decision! I was so happy. Now all I had to do was get James out on a date, and somehow say, "Oy, let's get married, mmk?"

"Jenna texted me, so I asked if she wanted to get dinner, so off we went to get pizza. It was pretty good. Nice conversation. We came back to her place, and eventually she brought up.... Well, she asked, "What would we do if we got married?" So... I talked about holidays, wedding next summer, etc. After a break, she leaned against me in a non-platonic manner. We just sat, then I expressed my undying devotion, via saying she's the best girl I ever met. She then put down her plan. She's going to the temple on Saturday, and unless she gets a firm no, we're gonna get married!!!!! BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Soooooooooo awesome (and unexpected)! At best I had dreamed she would move up next year. But this? Amazing!! We talked some more, then went to social dance. We came back and she called her parents. Craziness. She then called her friend Lisa, who doesn't so much like me, so I went, so Lisa could be open. I then shared the news with my roomies and Rebekah. BWAAAA!"

Two days later.

"I borrowed Bryan's car and went to Walmart to pick up the fake engagement ring. It took me an hour almost to get out of there, just because I was freaking out that I was actually doing it. Bwaaaa! [...] I prayed about marrying Jenna. I feel really good about it. I was grinning my face off for the next half hour. Jenna was off doing something, so I played New Super Mario Bros on Tommy's new Wii."

Next day. I went to the temple to confirm my decision with God. I prayed about it, and said, "Look. If You don't tell me it's a horrible idea, I'm going to marry this guy." I got a warm, fuzzy feeling. Well, that's it then. Let's make this thing official!

"Jenna came to work and we were excited together. The rest of work was hard. I eventually came home and planned on sleeping till noon, but got up by 10:30am. I just couldn't sleep. Worse than Christmas. Fifteen minutes before Jenna was supposed to call me, I biked to the flower store. She called and said it was all good!! So... I bought a dozen roses and another bouquet and biked over. It took long enough to get the flowers that she was freaking out, waiting by the door. I kneeled with the ring and flowers and asked, "Jenna, will you marry me?" "Yes!" Bweeee! So... we hugged and kissed and so on for a while, then called people. Lots of people. Also some nappage went on. We then went out for our celebratory dinner to... KFC! Yay! After, we watched Time Bandits (so weird...) we then went to swing. Becca freaked out, as expected. Yay!"

We eventually got my real ring.. here it is! It's a lab-created sapphire.

James went off to Oregon in September to start his Ph.D. program, and I stayed in Provo to finish my bachelor's degree of neuroscience. We talked on Skype every night. We finally got married in the Salt Lake temple on April 23, 2011. And that's the story!

Love and bubble wrap,
Jenna and James

_____

1 You know, this wasn't the first class we had together. We apparently both took a New Testament class from Dr. Huntsman in Fall 2008. I vaguely remember a loudmouth in that class named James. I think that was him... with decidedly less hair. I'm glad we didn't really notice each other though. Neither of us were ready for the other. ^↩

2 We didn't do this on purpose, but it turns out our first date was exactly one year before our wedding. ^↩

3 If James hadn't borrowed that car, I would probably be dead. If fact, both of us might be dead. The next time James drove his little scooter after our date, the rear wheel seized up. James was able to keep his balance and skid to a stop, so he lived... but if I had also been on the bike, we probably would have ended up smeared across the pavement as a lovely James and Jenna casserole. And then we wouldn't have gotten married. (Seriously, if he had asked me when we got to the next life, I would have been like, "Are you kidding me? It's your fault I'm dead! Go find some other lady to spend eternity with!") ^↩

4 Robby is my ex-boyfriend turned good friend. We dated for two months and really liked each other, and then prayed about getting married... and sadly, it just didn't feel right, so we broke up. Robby found his future wife in a matter of weeks, and I was a tad depressed about not having found anyone yet... So, I cried a bit. And then I prayed to find my husband. Later that day, I danced with James for my final and he asked me on a date. Prayers answered? At the time, I didn't realize that this is how things happened, but that's what my journal says occurred. This the great thing about journals... you can see extra well how your prayers are answered! Cultural note: Among LDS single adults, it's pretty common to pray about getting married before actually getting engaged. And sometimes your answer is no. I figured that might seem odd to some of my non-LDS friends. ^↩

5 So one of the reasons James had decided to go to school at BYU was to find a wife. Well, he had only a few more months left in Provo before moving to Eugene, Oregon to start his Ph.D. program in mathematics. He was understandably starting to get nervous about the whole thing. He started a fast to find a wife (the right wife) the night before we started dating. Coincidence? Possibly. ^↩

6 James never calls his parents. And this was 1 am Mom's time. ^↩

Killer Gas?

It was only a few weeks ago. (I'm trying to be suspenseful and dramatic and such.)

After a long day of colicky crying, Amelia finally seemed to be in a pleasant mood, so I handed her off to James for some Daddy Time (i.e. vigorous playtime). And then I proceeded to have a glorious time showering and brushing my teeth and such.

As I was standing in the hallway watching the happy pair play, James flips Amelia over on her belly for some tummy time. As you may know, it is important to do this frequently so that the baby can practice pulling up her head and doing little mini pushups in preparation for crawling.

Well, James flipped Amelia onto her belly... and disaster struck! (Cue lightning and thunder.)

The child morphed into a banshee and began screaming at the top of her lungs. As in, REALLY screaming. This wasn't too unusual, since Amelia isn't usually too fond of tummy time. Of course, James picks her up to quiet her, but then Amelia keeps screaming. And screaming. Desperately, James walks her and bounces her and... well, she just screams and screams and REALLY SCREAMS.

I must confess... I took some pleasure in the fact that I was not holding the baby, because (as you'll remember) I've been home everyday with a colicky baby, often by myself. And I really didn't think James knew how stressful that was. So when the baby started screaming, I was glad James was getting a hefty dose of it too. Now all is fair and square.

After all his efforts to soothe Amelia prove fruitless, James yells, "Jenna! I think you need to come feed her!"

"Sorry, I'm brushing my teeth!" And then I proceed to brush my teeth... and rather slowly, too. And then I take my sweet time getting into my jammies and settling into bed before finally proclaiming that I am ready to receive a ballistic child.

It is my bedtime routine to snuggle into bed with Amelia, and nurse her to sleep. And this really tends to work pretty much all the time. Amelia is very fond of nursing and never refuses a good boob if she can help it. She's inherited the Dilts appetite... everything consumed goes straight down through her leg and out a hole in the bottom of her foot, leaving her belly perpetually empty and begging for more.

This time, though... Amelia is so upset that she makes one feeble attempt to suckle, and then gives up for good, screaming louder than ever and completely ignoring me. This is my first real signal that something is actually wrong. A Dilts is always willing to eat, right?

I end up taking Amelia downstairs and walking with her... walk, walk, walk... attempt nursing again... bounce, bounce, bounce... massage... Nothing. She's just screaming and screaming. And when I say screaming, this is what I mean: there's your regular run-o'-the-mill screaming, and then there's SCREAMING. Amelia is SCREAMING. Short, extremely loud, incessant cries that you can't help but think mean the baby is dying.

At this point, James is curled up in a fetal position and rocking back and forth, absolutely convinced that he's injured and broken the baby somehow.

"I think I broke her arm!" he wailed.

... "James, her arm is fine. You didn't break a bone or dislocate a joint or anything..." (There was about one minute of respite from the crying, during which I did a quick check of all her bones and joints to make sure nothing was amiss.)

Ever the king of drama, he counters, "But it's the ONLY explanation. I must have broken the baby somehow! She's clearly dying or something!"

"Well, if you think that's the case, you should call the pediatrician's office. Someone should be on call. You know, in case somebody breaks their baby or something."

To my surprise, James actually does call the doctor. This is when I really know how worried the man is. He never calls or goes to the doctor. I swear the man could have a visible tumor on the side of his head and say,  "Meh, it's not that bad. I'll just walk it off."

So while James is waiting for the on-call person to call him back, I am sitting on the sofa holding our ballistic baby close. I offer noms every once in a while, but for the most part she ignores me and wails like she's in terrible pain.

For some reason, I am completely calm. It's a good thing one of us was, I guess.

Finally, the on-call person finally calls James back... and Amelia stops crying and begins nursing. James sardonically mutters into the phone, "Oh, yeah, and now she shuts up." While James answers millions of questions, Amelia nurses for a few seconds, then stops and wails weakly as if to say, "Why me? Whhhhyy? Is there no justice in the world?" She then falls asleep instantly as if passing out from sheer exhaustion.

I hear on-the-phone James exclaim skeptically, "Really? Really. Ooookaaaay... if you say so." I almost expected him to add, "Well, I still think she's dying." Apparently the nurse's best guess was that a gas bubble moved into a painful place when James flipped her over onto her tummy.

The nurse also told us that when baby cries panickedly like that for an hour, you go straight to the hospital. Just so y'all with babies know this. Amelia only cried for forty minutes before passing out so we were spared a trip to the hospital. And then we all slept like rocks for the rest of the night. Phew!

Now, to be fair, I thought I should include a description of what makes me panic. This happened when Amelia was two weeks old.

Coincidentally, this episode also happened during Daddy Time. James was dancing with Amelia to "Build Me Up Buttercup", swinging her in his arms back and forth like a horizontal pendulum. This was all fine and dandy until Amelia stopped breathing, turned dark purple, tensed every muscle in her body...

I was blogging at the time, actually. When I heard James yell, "Baby? Baby! BABY?!" I understandably leapt out of my seat and launched myself over to Amelia. After one or two seconds of purpleness, Amelia coughed and sputtered and went back to happily hanging about as if nothing had happened. So she was fine. James was fine, though a little shaken. I, however, was not fine and was more than a little shaken.

I was positively weepy. In a matter of seconds I had convinced myself that Amelia had had a seizure and that she was doomed to a life of daily seizures and would turn into a vegetable by age three. Well, not really, but I was completely undone.

I went and took a shower trying to calm down. It helped a little, but the whole time I was thinking, Holy Freddy Mercury, my hormones are ruining my life. By the way, has anyone ever told you that your hormones run rampant and do horrible things to you after you give birth? Well, it's true.

I took the baby to the doctor the next day, hoping this would calm my nerves. It did. Baby was absolutely the perfect picture of health and super interactive with the doctor. Dr. Pelinka said what had happened was actually just a reflex to prevent the baby from aspirating spit-up into her lungs. And then she added that next time we were pendulum dancing with baby, we should do it so that her head is higher than her lungs.

Anyway, love and panic-stricken terror,
Jenna and Amelia

The Magic of Colic*

So here's a huge piece of good news... I think the colic might be over! And I think it happened rather suddenly, too. On Wednesday, I woke up and Amelia was super smiley. And then she stayed happy for most of the day. She kept smiling on Thursday and Friday and Saturday... and the rest is history. Hopefully this means I can blog more... Writing is therapeutic for me, so I would definitely appreciate the opportunity to write more!**

Of course, the little one still cries, but she not inconsolable. She'll actually stop crying when we bounce or walk her. Yay!

This is all very fantastic, of course, but I don't think I've mentally or physically recovered from the colic yet. I've started getting migraines which only manifest themselves when Amelia is crying. I discovered that--particularly when Amelia cried--I was majorly tensing all the muscles in my body, including the ones in my neck which can trigger migraines when tight. So I've been having horrible headaches. I'm trying to relax, I promise.

So right about now is the time where my past self would say, "Oh good. Guess what, everyone? I no longer need your help! I'm all good!" But I think my present self is wiser. One of the lessons I learned while having a colicky baby is that I have to get over myself. I have to ask for and accept help, even if I'm tempted to claim I don't need any.

Last week I realized that I didn't have enough of a certain size of clothes for Amelia (namely, the one she just grew into***), so I went to go look through the clothes that had been donated to poor people. And although my family is in the "poor people" category right now, I still felt like I was stealing. Like those clothes were meant for someone else.

I often have conversations with myself which morph into prayers. So I started talking to God--"I feel like I'm stealing. Stealing with permission or something. Am I stealing? I mean, I could make do with eight onesies, one dress, one coat, no pants, and no socks, right?"

And you know what struck me after I asked that?

Jenna, stop being so selfish and allow others to serve you.

Hur? How is not asking for help selfish? How is trying to do it all on my own selfish?

And then I started to remember things I'd been thinking and asking a few mere months before. During my last month or so of pregnancy, I'd wanted to serve and help others. And I found it incredibly hard to do so, because I didn't know where I was needed.

I'd say that, short of inspiration, there was no way to know if friends or even strangers needed help unless they explicitly asked for help or let me know they weren't doing well. And no one did. I think I missed out on the joy of serving others because I didn't know who needed me... and I'm certain I was needed somewhere.

And you know what? I was really sad, because I wanted to be of service.

Well, apparently I have acquaintances who need me to let them know I need help as I put myself back together again after three or four weeks of colicky crying. Someone offered me a massage. And you know what? I had to put my pride on the shelf and say, "Hey, you know how you offered to give me a massage? I'd like to take you up on that offer. When can this happen?" And "I need help with dinners. Feeeeed me, Seymour!" Oh, and "Remember how you offered me a haircut?**** Can we do that sometime?"

Love and chocolate satin pie,
Jenna and Amelia

________
*When I visited the pediatrician to make sure Amelia's colicky crying wasn't secretly a sign of impending death, she quipped (in an effort to be optimistic), "Well, the magic of colic is that it goes away!" Wait, what? The magic of colic?
**Post ideas include how James and I got together, how my neuroscience degree has made me a better mom, things I've learned as a parent, advice for my pregnant friends, a killer gas episode that made Amelia very vocal and made James panic, my goals, how Amelia absolutely abhors car rides... I may write about all or some or none of these. Let me know if any of those particularly interest you, aye?
***So... depending on the brand, Amelia is wearing 3-6 month size or 6-9 month size clothing. Eeep! Big baby!
****Some of you who know me well know that I've always wanted to chop all my hair off because I really, really, really, really dislike hair maintenance. Someone asked me... "Well, why don't you?" So I think I'm going to try a pixie cut. I've always wanted to at least try one out, and I figure there isn't a better time in my life to trial run an ultra-low maintenance cut, right? And who knows, I might actually look even more sexy with a pixie. As for why I haven't... I think because some of my male family members and friends have said, "No! Don't do it! Hair is attractive!" But James is now the only man I will consult about my appearance, and well... he couldn't care less.

Sad

Remember when I wrote a post with the conclusion that Amelia was an easy, but high maintenance baby? I think I'll have to revise that idea and explain that she is no longer that easy. My Facebook followers will already know that Amelia is driving me nuts with crying and screaming.

Turns out reflux is not the culprit, nor does any other physical ailment seem to be the culprit. James often laments out loud, "I wish I knew what was wrong..." And my response? "Well, it wouldn't be called colic if we knew what was bothering her." True, and unfortunate.

It's a little hard on the psyche to have a baby who cries for no discernible reason.* It makes you feel like a bad parent, even when pediatricians, social workers, friends, family, strangers and even deities all seem to think you're doing everything right. So, while I know intellectually that I am an excellent mother, I still feel like a failure at times--particularly when all I can do is hold a screaming little Amelia until she passes out from sheer exhaustion.

It is also a little heartbreaking at times to see what other women with new babies are experiencing. When Amelia was 4 weeks old, one new mom assured me that everything would get a million times better after 6-8 weeks... and while this is apparently true for many, it couldn't have been less true for us.

And then there's another new mom who had almost the same due date as I did... Well, her baby seems so happy. Lots of smiles and giggles, and mom can leave baby with dad without the baby screaming the whole time...

It hurts. Not because I wish her baby was as difficult as mine, but because I wish my baby didn't seem to be so unhappy. I want nothing more than I want Amelia to be happy. I think that's what being a parent is all about, right? Well, it hurts that Amelia seems to be barely tolerating her existence much of the time. If it weren't for a little smile from her every once in a while, I might have been driven into a deep depression. I can't imagine the pains God feels for His many, many sad children.

I'm okay for now. Not great.  I know I need help to stay okay... though I couldn't really tell you what kind of help I need.

Love and crocodile tears,
Jenna and Amelia

____
*There is, of course, a reason. Amelia is, for some reason, actually distraught. We may just never find out what it is.