the dad and his dolly

He runs through the door and looks for her. Is she in her bassinet, where he left her earlier? He finds her, picks her up, and squeezes her tight because it's been so long. It's been since like, 8:00 in the morning.

He talks to her, wipes up her cheeks when needed, changes her diapers, gives her baths, swings her around the room in his arms, and swaddles her in blankets.

He is a dad with his own little dolly and he is in heaven.

Ryan has wanted a babe of his own for quite some time now. We were once in a pretty serious conversation soon after he returned from Spain and I from Israel - I asked him, "Okay, so what was the hardest part of your mission?"

"Hmm..." he paused, sincerely thinking the whole two years through. "I couldn't hold babies."

Ryan teases me that we are going to have 10 children because he loves babies so. I quickly and seriously reply that we are only having three because growing a child takes. so. long. (the growing part, I've learned, really starts after the birth and it lasts for...um, forever). But, honestly, with a husband and father like Ryan, we really would make it - me and that bus load of children...(but for real, Ryan, we're not having ten!)

Last Sunday he loved on Olivia all day. As he did, I made us a real dinner, I did all the dishes, and I admired them from a close distance.

When Olivia was ready for her siesta I heard him tell her, "Okay let's go take a nap together, Olivia! I've wanted to do this all week."

After the back rooms were quiet for some time, I stopped doing the dishes and went to see what was going on. I came upon them as so, the bedroom light still on because there was no time to switch it before sleep came to them both. I didn't think that Olivia would go through with it, but the darling little dolly did and her dad was so happy. Dream come true right there.

I love this little friendship - this bond that has already forged between the tiny, little daughter and the big, strong father. Ryan loves Olivia, and Olivia loves him back. I can see it when she turns her head toward his voice upon his entrance to the room, eyes focused and ears intent on listening to him. Watching my husband father our sweet daughter has been a very sweet part of this transition for me. That true love that he has for her is in his eyes, it's in his smile...seeing it brings me the greatest peace. 

And I think it brings her the greatest happiness. Yep, that dolly loves her dad.

weeks 4 & 5

I am really, really grateful for hard days, nights, and even weeks - once they're over and I am one step away looking back at them from a distance. They add a lovely contrast to the light in my life, making the bright places stand out even more. 

Weeks 4 & 5: they have been wonderful - still hard at times, but wonderful. 

Olivia and I went running just twice. The weather was perfect and I couldn't resist because the cold is coming. Running with my baby's weight in the stroller instead of in my stomach was exhilarating - I felt like sprinting - and so I sprinted. 

Note: my short legs don't sprint, actually, but sometimes it's fun to pretend. 

I went crazy with a camera one day during Olivia's "wake time." How I love those baby faces. Sometimes I wonder if she ever feels out of control, all those muscles moving so spontaneously. Her arms and legs are the best - leg jerk here, fist pump there, squirms all around. As I watch her I wish I could remember what feeling is like for the first time, so that we had more to goo and gaa about. Luckily we have the sweetest eye contact and I swear she smiles back at me...

Olivia watched Ryan as Ryan watched the debate. 

My dear daughter, do you understand the potential you have for greatness? Look at those legs. They're in your genes, girl. You're already showing signs of being long and lean - your fingers and feet - they are long! They are just like Daddy's.

P.S. So glad you already adore him.

The contrasting stroke of the fifth week: getting mastitis. Yep. That mama right there is just half of the image of nastiness, thanks to antibiotics. 

The surrounding strokes of light: Olivia is healthy, she loves bath time, and she smells of Johnson & Johnson baby lotion every night (the most heavenly scent). 

Yesterday evening we walked to the temple to soak up more of fall before it completely fades. Can I just say that I'm so glad she is with me?...it's been nice to have someone with me to enjoy every part of every day. She listens to me think out loud, cry out loud, and sing out loud. I'm keeping her. For eternity.

 Dark shades amidst the light - it really is part of the beauty.

All is well.

week 3, as told by Olivia

Week 3: even harder, longer, and sweeter than week two. Serious.

Olivia tells all in this letter she wrote to her Uncle Nick on Sunday, October 14 - he is a missionary in Germany. Her mother swears that she had nothing to do with this. 

Hello Uncle Nick!

This is Olivia. I'm sending you this message from the hospital, because I've had to stay here for a couple of days. It's been a party, let me tell you! 

We came because my stomach has felt terrible, and my whole body has been hurting. The doctors say I've had a virus. Having a virus made me weak and tired, so I didn't like eating for a few days. Also, for two weeks, hot, burning acid has come up my throat when I eat and I hate it. I hate it so much that I scream and cry about it. A lot. That means that my mom and dad hate the hot, burning acid problem, too, especially since I don't eat very much because of it. We've all just been feeling kind of sick about my sadness. My mom actually has cried about it more than I have.

On Saturday morning, mom and dad first took me to see the doctor, and he told us to go to the hospital so that I could have an IV (I was soo hungry and thirsty!), and the nurses needed to take some tests done on my blood, just in case I had a real big problem. After the nurses poked me a lot in my arm, my hand, and even my foot to give me an IV, I became very, very weak. My olive skin turned almost white, and I wouldn't even move a muscle (mother was terrified), so Dad and Uncle Adam gave me a priesthood blessing and that really helped me - I started to eat again! Also, everybody in the whole world was praying for me, so that's probably why I started to get better, too. And my mom - she even had a blessing. She was fatigued because I wasn't eating and sleeping well, and she cried so much when I slowly stopped moving that she felt sick, too. But now she has more energy to take care of me, and she is so happy again! Mom and me - we're big fans of the priesthood. I'm sure you're blessing the Germans with it, too. Thanks for honoring your gift. You rock. 

So after I took all the tests (tests are hard!), all the doctors said that there isn't anything nasty growing inside of me, but they gave me some medicine to kill any germs, and I started to eat better. Then I started to eat even better because mom started to feed me better! This really amazing nurse taught my mom some tricks about feeding a baby like me - one that has to deal with the hot, burning acid in their throat. Mom cried like, tons of tears of joy because she fed me in 20 minutes and I didn't even cry or spit up. Not once. Hallelujah.  

So, that's all. Tomorrow we're going back to our house. We're really grateful for the help we had here. My dad and mom are especially thankful to my aunts and uncles that came to take care of us - they were really, really nice to us. 

Can't wait to sleep in my own bed and to look around at my own home with my big, blue eyes! And now that I feel better, I'm going to eat wayy more. Yep, Mom and I are going to really have a good time together now. 

Sie sind ein guter Onkel. Why are you surprised that I know German? I'm an angel - I have the gift of tongues.

You're a great uncle and I love you. See you in about a year. Don't worry, I'll still be just as darling when we meet face-to-face. 

xoxo

Olivia

P.S. This is dad and me the night we got home. Of course dad just wanted to snuggle with me without any IV and monitor cords attached. He's kind of obsessed with me and I adore him. We're best friends. 

Okay that's all. See ya! Bye!

week 2

Don't worry, although Olivia and I are all dressed up for church (you can't see her darling dress in that bundle), she and I stayed home. You kind of crave normalcy after being pregnant for nine months and then giving birth...although homebound, I had to do something to make it feel like the Sabbath. 

Week 2: stretching, yet still so sweet, and kind of long

Remember how my angel mother left right as week two began? Clearly I didn't really know what I was doing when she left - all those yellow-stained onesies from blow-outs were air-dyring, because (apparently), I didn't know how to really secure a diaper for a few days. Bless my heart. 

During weeks two Olivia slept a lot, so 1) I took more naps and 2) I learned more about patience as I nursed a lot. Thankfully Olivia is a natural at nursing and burping (that's a real compliment to a babe, believe me) when she feels well. However when she doesn't...

At the beginning of Olivia's second week she started to get real fussy. I was told that all little babes are like that - tears, squirming, and even projectile spit-up. So I tried to grit my teeth and bear through some really long hours of nursing and crying...but when everything I knew to do wasn't working, things got ugly. It was apparent that it was hurting Olivia to eat. I assumed she had mega bubbles, so what did we do? We burped for literally 1.5 hours straight after eating. After a full week of this, and too much spitting up for a baby, I learned that my darling has a reflux - something in my milk was giving her mega heartburn. 

Helping infants get over reflux mostly comes from changing your diet, so that your breast milk won't give them heartburn. Thus, heeding the advice of two doctors, I eliminated gluten (so wheat, oats, etc.), egg yolks, peanuts, dairy, and chocolate during week two, and I won't eat them for...? Not sure yet. Probably at least for the next few months. 

Ouch. The wheat part killed me. Sliced bread is one of the best things that ever happened to me as a hungry pregnant and nursing woman - it was my "go to" food right before a feeding, right after a midnight feeding, and every other time I needed to eat asap. And, honestly, I really like wheat bread, so this instantaneous change to my diet was kind of hard to swallow. 

Yes, week two was marked with some stress and sadness for me, I cannot tell a lie. In the middle of working at how to take care of Olivia totally on my own, I also had to figure out this way new diet change. A few good souls could sense my stress, even though they didn't know about everything I was going through. One was my dear Marilee - she ran to my rescue one night with a perfect salad bar for dinner. An unknown neighbor of ours in Wymountland "heart attacked" our door with the kindest note of congratulations and encouragement. I felt supported in simple ways, and that did so much for my morale. 

And, of course, my Wonderful came to aid time and time again. Ryan had reason to be even more stressed than me, as he was learning how to balance fatherhood, husbandhood, employeehood, and studenthood, but he kept it together and helped me along. Bless him for forever.  

Example A: Olivia's first doctor's appointment which ended up being so tiring and embarrassing for me. My baby girl decided that having a real long meal right after her check-up was appropriate, but the nurses in the office did not agree when, one hour after our appointment, we were still nursing in the exam room...

But I came home to this, and I cried all about it because it was exactly what I needed:

How did he know I was so stressed after that appointment? How did he know that I was starving? How is he so perfect for me?

I know my Wonderful loves me a lot, but I love him more. Promise.

Even though week two was a little rough, it was still rewarding. I mean, please, despite the struggles, how could I not fall into love over and over again with my new job when I see my "finished product" - my sleeping babe - even though every feeding was so sad?

My sleeping, growing, peaceful babe...oh how I love those saggy sleeping cheeks and that perfect nose buttoned in between them!

Despite wanting to jump back into normal life  - sharing Olivia with our friends, for example, via the social media world and house visits - I was exhausted and I took almost every nap of hers to also sleep. While I'm positive I didn't look as cute as her while I napped, I'm sure we were dreaming of the same things: nursing, creamy milk, burp cloths, spit up, bubbles, burping, yawning, sleeping, nursing, creamy milke, burp cloths, spit up, bubbles, burping, yawning, sleeping, nursing, and of each other, most of all. 

week 1

Hello, darling baby.

Hello, perfection.

Hello, to Olivia's first nap in the bassinet, fresh from the hospital.

Week 1: it was blissful, heavenly, and fast. 

Upon coming home, Ryan and I both felt that we wanted to detach from the world a bit to maintain the sweet feelings that we had with Olivia's arrival. We so badly wanted to make our first days as a family together just ours. Yes, we did have wonderful family members in and out and all about, but as far as sharing our first week with the social media world goes...there was so little of it. And, call me selfish, but I didn't mind one bit.

Olivia's perfection definitely made up most of the peaceful feelings we had that week, but we had another angel in our midst during those days: my mother.

I loved this part about the transition to motherhood that I experienced both in that first week and in the days since: when my own angel mother came to be with us, I re-learned what it was like to be her daughter all over again.

My dear mom loved me as much as I loved Olivia in those moments of becoming a nurturer. She stopped my tears of ignorance by teaching me how to care for our a small baby. She stayed awake with me at night as Olivia nursed, and we talked talked talked about all that is good in life.

She cooked for us, she cleaned for us, she cared for us. She looked at our little apartment and, waving her magic wand, she reorganized my kitchen and made the whole apartment sparkling clean. She bought us salmon and quiona. She told me every day, "You were born for such a time as this! So stop the stress - it'll do stuff to your milk supply." She greeted each day by opening the front curtains singing, "Good morning Pro-vo, Utah!" to the tune of Hairspray's "Good Morning Baltimore," and I still hear her voice echo around the room when I glance at that window.

She was a breath of fresh air in every way, and I missed her terribly the very second she drove away from us. Tears upon tears fell even before she left as I thought about her comfort having to go...but! She calls me, and I call her, and still today, just hearing her voice causes heaven to return to my heart, and I remember this: I was born for such a time as this.

In the few days we had together, Mom gave me a crash course in Baby 101 - from bathing, to burping, to nursing - she was the perfect teacher and I love her. Enough said. 

Olivia loves her, too. Clearly.

Then my Grandma and Grandpa Burr came (sadly, to take my mother home), but for a moment we had the Queen of Babies herself in our home - Grandma Burr. My grandma is one of the most perfect women I know, especially when it comes to loving little babies. Oh and in loving us big babies - she brought me her homemade wheat bread (my favorite) with two jars of jam. Priceless. 

Then there was Ryan that first week - totally clingy to his sweet babe - which, honestly, didn't change during weeks two, three, and four. 

Ryan displayed his unique, undeterred desire to be close to Olivia in an unforgettable way one particular night. I was in the bathroom when I saw him tiptoeing with Olivia's bassinet mattress in hand, blankets cascading from its sides, en route to our bedroom. I didn't see, initially, that Olivia was also a top the mattress but when I realized what was going on... 

"Ryan what are you doing??" His head shot to the side - he was a kid caught on Christmas morning sneaking presents. 

"Um I just want to snuggle with her..." 

'Okay,' I thought, 'you're cute and everything you do is perfect. I'm not even made about it.' 

So with her mattress on ours, Olivia's father - oh so in love - curled up next to her and he sat, stared, and snuggled. Dream come true for that guy. 

Before I could blink, Olivia was one week old, my mother had left, and the beautiful, hard work of nurturing that girl only increased in pace. Yes, by day seven I grasped that my duties as her mother were never going to find closure (a reality check that came with plenty of I'm-so-overwhelmed-I-might-die tears) but, truly...what a blessing it is to finally inherit this role of motherhood! My angel girl will always be with me, always and forever teaching me how to "be."

26 days

I have been changing diapers for 26 days now. They're tiny diapers, that when all wrapped up, resemble squishy, disfigured balls. They're pretty cute.

Never thought I would consider a diaper to be "cute," but hey, I'm now a mother.

And I can hardly wrap my mind around that fact. During these last 26 days, my heart has felt the biggest mixture of emotions yet of its young life. Giving birth to Olivia - the grand finale of her gaining a body - was the hardest test of my physical strength that I have yet endured, and it was the most elevating, sweet experience that my spirit has yet felt.

Then, after that fleeting moment of welcoming new life into the world, I really became "mother" and the nurturing began. Day-by-day I have felt more and more that caring for my daughter's tiny body which houses her very big spirit is an honorable work. And yet, day-by-day, I have realized that this job is work. By "work" I don't mean that it's super hard to change eight diapers a day, or that laundering newborn clothes and burp cloths all week long is just so hard, because it's not. Thus far I have learned that the hard work of motherhood lies within the constant, endless, infinite demand to love.

That is the irony I've discovered in my short 26 days as mother: it is so easy to love your child incredibly much - I love Olivia to the point of bursting! - and yet that kind of all-encompassing, selfless, constant love has to be refueled. So the effort it takes to keep that unique type of love is the hard work. I pray for this love daily, and then I have to choose to be motivated by this love daily, because I have learned it really doesn't come to me that naturally. Mother Jeni is not always oh so patient, happy, and positive. Nope, not at all. I've cried just as many tears of frustration as I have tears of joy about all of this. But in the attempts I am making to meet my new demands with love, something beautiful is happening. My heart is changing for the better, and I am becoming (cannot emphasize the "becoming" part enough!) more like my sweetest Olivia: submissive, meek, willing to be taught, accepting of help, and eager to love without reserve.

Isn't she lovely?...just a few pictures from today on a whim - she was too darling after her diaper change to not capture. 

Yes, and my heart bursts for her more today than it did yesterday, and its capacity to perfectly love tomorrow will be even greater. I just know it.

Thank you, angel daughter, for helping me learn how to be a much better wife, sister, daughter, and friend by letting me be your mother.

xoxo for eternity, darling.