Mothered

Now I come to a tribute where my heart just won't fit on paper!

I know what it means to be mothered.

And the older I get, the more I realize what a precious and rare gift that is.  I took it for granted that everyone was treated with unconditional love and kindness as a child.  I took it for granted that every woman would want her mother near as she gave birth and during the days following.  But I know women who have not been mothered, and I ache for them as they bring their babies into the world and struggle to figure it out on their own.  Because I have experienced something beautiful and different.

Always I want my mother with me during birth.  Strangely, it has not happened that way most of the time.  With Nathan, she was running my baby shower!  In those pre-cell phone days, it was impossible to let people know that I had gone into labor, so they had the shower without me.  She rushed up to the hospital to take some videos of me and the baby to show the ladies at the shower.  With Brandon, she was taking care of Nathan.  Ruby's she missed just by a little as they had decided to go up to Palmyra for the Hill Cumorah Pageant.  They got back into town just after she was born.  Daisy was my first home birth, and she was there!  Also with Simon she was able to attend.  With Sarajoy she had to go home because my dad had an accident with a table saw and she had to be there for his surgery.  She was home for less than 24 hours before she turned around and drove back.  She got to my house and sat down to read a story to someone and she heard the baby's first cry.  Similarly, with Sullivan, she was helping get my little ones out the door with a friend when she heard that cry.

This time, I was determined she would not miss it.  And she didn't.  I love having her share that most sacred and precious experience with me.  This time she helped me get the bed ready, she helped warm water to fill the birth pool, she fed me ice chips and was just there, doing whatever was needed.
But that is how she always is!  Somehow when I have a baby, she manages to take care of me, the baby, and my entire household efficiently and cheerfully.  My meals are brought to me in bed for as long as I need to stay there, and they are always well prepared and delicious.  I'm regularly brought nice things to drink like juice over ice chips, and my water bottle is rarely empty.  When I have needed help in the bathroom or shower, she is there supporting me.  When I just need a couple of hours of sleep in a row, she will snuggle the baby for me--day or night!  When my other kids are stir-crazy or need attention, she reads to them or takes them on an outing.  And my big kids don't know what to do because their chores seem to always be done.  The laundry is not just clean, but put away! The dishes are always done.  She is content to be company for me when I need it, or to just work quietly on her own things so I can rest.  She will help me take baby to the doctor or send Dallin and I on an expense-paid date if I am up to it.  And when she leaves, my fridge and pantry are always well stocked with food.

And when she leaves, I always cry.

Not because I don't think I can manage without her.  She is so careful to leave me well prepared for the transition ahead.  But because I am so full of love and awe at her ability to care for me and my family.  Because I know how my children will miss her.  Because I miss her friendship and love and attention.  Because I am inspired by her ability to lose herself in service.  Because I wish every woman could be so mothered!

This time I was trying so hard to be brave.  I made it through the hugs and the goodbyes and the waving the car off.  But as soon as I got back to my room, I had a good cry.  I thought I had gotten it out of my system until that night.  The house was quiet and the kids were in bed and I crept down to take my vitamins and her place where she'd sat on the couch working was empty and I completely lost it.  I realized I slept my time with her away.  I needed the sleep, but I didn't get much of a chance to spend time with her like I normally do after a baby.  And when I came back to my room bawling, Dallin knew exactly why.  He won't ever cry, but I think his heart was bawling too.  She mothers her sons-in-law so respectfully that they don't want her to leave either.

It leaves me with a feeling of great responsibility.  I know I can never repay that kind of service, but I hope I can be that kind of mother.

Writing My Heart

I know how much I NEED to write right now.  But I noticed an unfamiliar feeling as I felt prompted to quit wasting time on facebook and start working on the posts that have been swirling around my mind for the past few weeks.  It was fear.  Fear?  Why would I be afraid to do something I love so much, something that always helps me put life in perspective and sometimes, I like to think, it even helps someone else?

I think it is because after childbirth, my heart is WIDE open and overflowing.  I'm afraid I won't be able to fit it on paper, that I won't be able to do justice to what I have experienced.  My words won't be adequate, but my heart demands that I try.

Now I Know Him!

The wait is over!  I got to meet my little Corban.  He was born the morning of June 15.  9lb 4oz

Sure on This Shining Night: A Birth Journey

Sure On This Shining Night

Sure on this shining night
Of star made shadows round,
Kindness must watch for me
This side the ground.
The late year lies down the north.
All is healed, all is health.
High summer holds the earth.
Hearts all whole.
Sure on this shining night

I weep for wonder wand'ring far
alone
Of shadows on the stars.

--James Agee

(Composed by Samuel Barber, performed by Sarah Millington)

The shining nights.  Though I slept better this pregnancy than the last, there were still some nights I spent awake with the moon and my thoughts and my prayers.  I made the best of them, praying for rest or at least the strength to endure whatever was keeping me awake.  Usually it was an itchy, restless feeling.  A couple of nights during my last month it was mild contractions.  Looking out a window at the "star made shadows", opening the front door for a breath of mountain air and a look at the moon-- the gift of those nights was time.  I had time to think, to really listen to my thoughts.  Time to not think, to just be still.  When I let go the thoughts that I should be sleeping, I could embrace the beauty of a shining night.  It was good practice, for it took several shining nights for my son to make his entrance into this world.

On Monday the 8th, it was hard to not feel disappointed that my labor had not started the night before.  I spent the morning at the temple, trying  to make the best of it.  I started having back pains on the way home, but didn't feel they were worth mentioning to my midwife who was with me.  They continued through the day along with a headache and fluttery heart.  The midwife came that night for a prenatal, and I was so glad to see her!  She listened carefully to my concerns and gave me some supplements to help with the elevated heart rate she noticed in both me and the baby.  Though I normally don't get checked, she and I both felt like it was the right thing.  My cervix was high, but soft.  Baby's head would float away at her touch.  Several hours after the rest of the family, I was finally able to settle in bed and sleep.

On Tuesday the 9th, the contractions started at 11pm, 10 minutes apart, then 5. This seemed like a familiar beginning of labor!  I didn't mention anything to Dallin, but felt hopeful as he drifted off to sleep.  Each contraction was welcomed and timed with excitement.  I was lying on the couch, trying to catch some rest between them.  I was visualizing the baby moving down as I breathed in, and myself opening up as I breathed out.  But after 3 hours, nothing had changed. I put away my contraction timing app and tried to focus more on resting.  The contractions were just strong enough to wake me, and still coming at 5 minute intervals.  I got on my hands and knees and rocked for a few minutes.  I knew it was normal for the baby to be sleeping at that time, but the lack of movement still made me feel unsettled.  I wondered about his position, and I remembered his heart had been a little fast.

I was not excited to disturb my midwife when I was so obviously not in active labor, but I did not want to ignore a feeling to check on the baby, either.  I decided to text her and let her know what was going on.  I hoped that by texting her I would not wake her, but that she would see it when she woke. And "kindness watched for me" as she came and ministered to me.  The baby was fine.  He was no longer posterior and my cervix was stretchy and low!  So at least that long shining night was productive.  She offered to stay, but I was ready to try for more sleep and I did not want to use her kindness up before the real thing.  Her attention and understanding that night soothed a part of my heart that had been tender for years.  "All is healed, all is health."  She left early the morning of my due date.  As I went up to bed, I had a very strong contraction that took my breath away and woke up Dallin.  He came rushing to me in the hall, and was very surprised that I had been awake all night and had just sent the midwife home.

I carried that healed feeling of light and love through the day.  I thought about how the Savior requires a broken heart as our offering.  I thought of how my heart had felt broken Monday morning when things did not go my way.  I thought about how allowing myself to feel the broken heart without bitterness towards Him made it possible for Him to help me let go of a painful experience from my past and forgive the person associated with it.  "Hearts all whole".

Friday night.  The ideal timing was slipping away from me.  I really wanted to be completely okay with letting things unfold in God's timing, but my heart was breaking once again.  My big boys were getting ready to leave for a week.  Could I really be okay with them missing it?  I felt I should ask for a blessing.  When Dallin came in after some time outside pondering, he said he felt he should give me a blessing.  I shared that I had the same feeling.  I was surprised when he blessed me that labor would start immediately.  I was worried about being disappointed if it didn't.  It did, though.  I spent another shining night alone, this time with contractions and a terrible headache that left me completely dependent on God and the angels to bear me through it.  Again the kindness came in the morning, this time I woke Dallin as the midwife came to check me.  A little progress, but not much.  I prayed for the strength to not cry all day.  I like to think I had an angel there to help keep the tears back so they wouldn't come and make my headache worse.  I was worn down by the process of surrender.  Again the broken heart, but by Saturday evening, all was healed and whole.  It was miraculous how full of light I felt as I prepared for another night.  I read all of my kids' birth stories and was so thankful to have recorded them.  So many things I had forgotten!  One in particular became very important.


Saturday night.  It happened!  The first "real" contraction!  I knew it had to be it!  It was so much stronger than any of the other contractions I had felt.  They came regularly and were welcomed every  10 minutes or so.  Two hours later, they were still going strong, but not getting closer together.  I texted the midwife.  She came right over and suggested we get things set up.  Dallin filled the pool.  She called her assistant and began making preparations.  She got me in a position to help the baby move over and down.  It was not comfortable, but I stayed there for hours.  I was hopeful because the contractions got a little closer and stronger.  Then I couldn't stand it, I had to move.  I got up and sat on the birth ball.  Everything was ready.  Did I need anything?  No...you can all sleep awhile.  They all slept while I used up the last of my energy to will a few more contractions.  

I tiptoed outside into the summer dawn to see if walking would help.  I started pulling weeds and then realized it was Sunday.  I probably shouldn't pull weeds on Sunday, I thought.  And who was I kidding?  The sun was coming up, and once again, my labor was gone.  I woke my midwife, feeling completely humiliated and defeated.  She checked me only to find little progress and a very posterior baby!  I was at least able to smile as I listened to the song that came up on my birth playlist.  It was me, singing in concert with the university orchestra when I was 8 months pregnant with Nathan. The pool was drained and deflated and the midwives went home.  I was exhausted and embarrassed for putting everyone to so much trouble.  The kids were up getting ready for church and I was once again trying to sleep.  Dallin got sent home from Bishopric meeting to spend the day with me.

We cuddled into bed, grateful for an empty house as my mom took the kids to church.  Soon after we fell asleep, however, I had a terribly strong contraction.  I called out, half asleep, "No! I just want to sleep!"  For the first time, I did not want to be in labor.  I was just too tired.  And nothing was ready.  It had all just been put away!  A few more of those big contractions made me realize that my nap was not to be.  I got up and watched a movie with Dallin.

The show was actually quite moving and we were both touched by the message.  My heart was swollen as I pulled out a pen and paper to write letters for my big boys to open at youth leadership camp.  My love for them seemed as powerful as it has ever been.  My eyes overflowed as I wrote to Nathan about that shining night 17 years ago with the orchestra.  The kids came into our room as they returned from church.  We visited with them a little before they left to change and eat.  Grandma must have worked some magic next because the house became quiet, and Dallin and I both fell into a deep and blessed sleep.

Thee hours later I awoke.  I was at the bottom of my ideal timing agenda.  Brandon had returned to join Nathan at the camp.  We were down to Dallin having just one free day left.  My  best friend would be leaving for vacation in the morning.  I went downstairs to find that the kids had headed across the street for the weekly neighborhood gathering.   "High summer held the earth."  I ate a late dinner and had a nice quiet visit with my mom.  I returned to my room awhile later, feeling weak and shaky.  The kids piled into our room for prayers and scriptures.  They lingered later than usual to talk, and it was enjoyable and special.  I recalled a similar evening the night I went into labor with Ruby.  I tidied up and showered and made myself ready for another shining night.  

I spent some time processing thoughts in my journal.   

First, I needed to get off my chest some less than helpful comments made by others.  That led to thoughts about the baby.  I had done my best to surrender to the possibility of an undesirable outcome, and I wondered if something was wrong.  I was not afraid, but felt the need to brace myself as I had done during my labor with Sullivan.  And I needed Dallin to know.  I finished writing and asked for some attention.  I shared my heart with him and all of those sobering thoughts about the baby.  I shared my realization that when he blessed me, my body responded immediately, but for some reason the baby didn't.  Time and again as I was checked his head would float away.  Why?  I knew that was what was needed to progress.  Was he afraid, or was it something physical?  His cord?  Our hearts became whole once again as they united in submission and in a decision to bless our baby through me.  After the blessing we started a show.  Contractions started slmost immediately, stronger than ever.  It was 12:57 on our clock.

I did not get very far into that movie before I asked Dallin to go prepare the birth pool again.  I continued to watch it for a time before I turned it off.  I walked around some, which I have not done before during labor.  It seemed to ease the contractions.  I used the birth ball as well.  I was avoiding my bed, which is where I have always labored.  I was breathing deeply through contractions, but found that the full extension of my diaphragm made them hurt more so I let up on that.  They became 5 minutes apart within an hour.  I was determined not to call the midwife until they stayed that way for an hour.  I went down to ask my mom for some help with the bedding and I heard Sullivan crying in the big boys' room.  I sent a Dallin to him while my my mom and I prepared the bed with a plastic liner and extra sheets.  It had only been 30 minutes and I was feeling pretty ready to get in the pool.  I did not want to do that without my midwife here to check my progress.  I sent mom to heat water on the stove in case we ran out, and I called the midwife.  "I need you," was all I could say as I worked through a contraction.  I texted my friends and the girl who was going to come do photos.  I knew it was a long shot for any of them to make it at 2:30 am.  

The midwife arrived quickly, happy to see me again.  I was so happy to see her and so happy that I was progressing.  6 plus was the verdict, along with an okay to get in the pool.  It felt wonderful to be in the warm water.  The assistant arrived and all worked together to finish filling it and getting it to temperature.  I spent the time during contractions on my hands and knees with someone bathing my face with ice water or feeding me ice chips.  Kindness watched for me some more. In between I sat back and rested, sometimes even dozing off for a moment.  My focus during the contractions was one of submission.  "It's okay, feel it."  I would allow myself to let go and experience the pain.  And it WAS okay!  It was not so bad when I wasn't fighting it, and I knew it would end and give me a break.  I was tired, but excited for this to really be happening. 

 According to my previous experiences, the next thing I would be feeling was a desire to bear down a little at the end of each contraction.  When that feeling began, I wondered if my excitement and fatigue were tricking my mind. Though I was not watching a clock, I knew I had not been in the pool for very long. It seemed too soon.  As the feeling continued and intensified, I knew it would be better to use the bathroom sooner than later. Dallin recognized it as a last chance for my friends and called them again.  Elisa answered and was on her way.  I remember standing by the toilet, knowing that position would intensify things, willing myself to sit down.  Once I was there, I wasn't sure how to get off.  I stayed for several contractions, grunting and moaning until my midwife gently suggested it was time to get off.  I remembered reading that during Ruby's birth, the midwife suggested that I use gentle pushes. I tried it.  These gentle grunts and moans at the peak of contractions felt good.  Once again I gathered courage to move back to the pool.  I had imagined and hoped this baby would be born in water, and I sensed I was close to the final stretch.  But once I got in again, I was hot and uncomfortable.  I couldn't figure out a manageable position for the hard pushing I was used to.  I needed the familiar, so I asked for help to my bed.  

On my bed, I stayed on my side for a few contractions.  Things were so intense, and I was so tired.  I was ready to be done with this work and meet my baby.  Elisa came. It was around 4am, but I didn't know it.  I had only been in t he pool for about an hour.  I knew if I worked with the contractions and pushed hard, my baby would be here in minutes.  I have never, even with my first, had a second stage longer than 20 minutes.  I got into the familiar knees/chest position that had worked many times before and pushed through a couple of contractions.  It was an obviously different experience.  This position was not going to work.  Delivery was still "lying down the north", far away.  I got up on my hands, hoping that it would add a measure of gravity.  "It is okay to use gentle pushes," said a voice in my head. I would go with it for a couple of contractions because it felt so much better, but then I would begin to doubt and try another fruitless hard push.  During one of those, I felt the familiar burning and stretching that normally would have driven me to push harder and get it over with.  But I just couldn't.  I was relieved to feel the baby slip back in and I knew I could not do another hard push like that without breaking myself in two.  But wasn't that intense pushing what I was supposed to do?  That is how the others had come.  "Gentle pushes, Sarah."

I had imagined delivering in a more upright position in the pool, and my body was still craving that experience.  But I was beyond my ability to move that far.  Instead, I kneeled up straight, supported on one side by a midwife and on the other by Dallin next to me on the bed.  I was facing my yellow curtained window where morning light was glowing through.  Labor took a long pause while I soaked in that "star-made" light, which I imagined to be the powers of heaven.  I tried to find courage while I continued gentle pushes at the end of each contraction.  I could not quite fight off the fear that I was fooling myself, that these gentle pushes were actually holding the baby in, that I was going to have to be carried out on a stretcher for someone else to get this baby out because all I had left in me were gentle pushes.  I relaxed a little, back onto my fists.  I felt my water release, but still felt no encouragement that my seemingly wimpy efforts were doing anything but relieving the pain of my contractions.  

I still had no idea what time it was, but I knew the 20 minute mark was long past.  I was beginning to feel pretty desperate.  All this time Dallin had been by my side, encouraging me.  As I tried to listen to the voice suggesting gentle pushes, I had to quiet his voice telling me how strong I was.  The two were too conflicting.  Of course he respected my wishes and offered his own quiet strength, which I relied heavily upon.  This time he felt more connected and involved than he ever has.  I felt that we were truly doing this together.  I remember looking into his eyes for strength, resting my forehead against his forehead, pressing my face on his shoulderor his soft arm.  Moving slowly, thinking slowly, my mind was "wandring far alone".

The midwife had a suggestion. "After the next contraction, I want you to lift up your right leg to see if it will open you up more.

"Yes, of course," I thought as the idea slowly registered in my brain.
But I forgot how to move.
"And when is the next contraction?
Will it have an end?
And won't it hurt terribly to open so much?...
   Gentle pushes."

As I slowly thought this through, a sound of surprise and the word "head" came from the midwife.  And before I had a chance to fully register that word, a gentle push produced the word "cord", and then " hand" and I felt the blessed release.
And heard a cry.  

Sure.  Finally sure.  On the shining dawn after many shining nights.

It was 4:57 am, exactly 4 hours since my first contraction, and an hour after I started pushing.  I lifted my leg to turn over, anxious to meet my boy.  "Wait, Sarah, he isn't out yet." But with another little push he was out and in my arms, lying beside me.  "I didn't know who you were, but now I do!" I exclaimed joyfully as I met the living and breathing, tiny but chubby Corban Royal.  "It worked!  I can't believe it worked!  The Spirit told me to use gentle pushes and it worked!"  

I wept for wonder.

"Yes, it did," smiled the midwife.

...

The Waiting Game

I don't think there is any part of pregnancy that I dread as much as the last several weeks.  The time of waiting.  I tried really hard to stay above it this time, mostly by trying not to think about it.

The strange thing is, it is also the most exciting part of pregnancy.  It is the part I mourn the most when it is over.  I love the anticiaption and the preparation.  And I love giving birth.  I experience a true sense of loss when the experience is over.  Every time.

The hard part is not knowing just when it will actually happen and worrying about the outcome.  It is so incredible to feel that little person inside all wiggly and alive and want desperately to see them in person all wiggly and alive.  But I know that is not guaranteed. And the longer the pregnancy goes, the harder it is to feel confident that all will be well.  Submitting to that possibility is difficult.

Twice in May I found myself feeling so joyful and energetic and thankful.  I was thankful that I had not had a lot of practice contractions.  I didn't feel like I was constantly wondering, "is this it??", so I could more joyfully experience and prepare during the wait.  The funny thing is, on both of those occasions where I was feeling so blessed to not have had a lot of contractions, I spent the following night awake with contractions and discomfort!

I think I did a pretty good job of waiting this time.  There were certainly times where I felt discouraged and so tired, but I felt that I could always find something to look forward to in the next day.  I was able to get up and do it.  I spent a lot of time in the garden or doing a work project at the neighbor's with the kids.  I did some sewing and decorating in my room. I focused on doing some school activities with my younger kids and tried to fill their tanks by working and playing with them.  I spent a day making 24 freezer meals with my mother in law.  I was even able to do a bit of service for neighbors. I did cleaning and organizing around my house.  I watched home movies and specifically the births and first few days of my kids' lives.  I went to the temple.  When my mom got here, we went shopping and looked at houses for my brother who is moving to the area.

I tried really hard not to get my heart set on a certain date.  In fact, I made myself think of June 24th everyday.  My 42 week mark.  I had to make myself willing to go to that date, but it didn't work that well.  After all, I am a planner and an idealist, so I can't help but think of perfect timing.

The first magic date was June 5th.  Nathan's birthday and the first of 10 days Dallin would have off work.  It would be tricky for my mom to get here from a conference she had that week, and I would miss the Payson Temple celebration and dedication, but it was still a great day to have a baby.  I was okay when it came and went because the next day was the temple celebration, and I am glad I got to see the kids perform in it with 13,000 other youth from our area.  Even if I did have to stand under the stadium for 2 hours while it poured rain before they could let the show begin.  And I really didn't want to miss the dedication because Dallin and I had tickets to be actually inside the temple during one of the sessions.  But that night, the 7th, would have been just about perfect!  We would still get a full week of Dallin being home!  It was not to be, and I admit, I wept a little weep that next day because I was disappointed.  But I looked ahead and thought of June 24th and also thought of the due date, June 10th.  My mom would be finished with her conference that day.  Wouldn't it be perfectly perfect?  I have a post for how that day came and went.  I panicked a little when we got to the end of the week and the ideal window was closing.  My oldest boys were leaving on Saturday for a week of leadership camp.  My best friend was leaving Monday for vacation and I was hoping she could be there, and Dallin was down to just a couple more days until he had to return to work.  It didn't make sense, and it was very hard to submit to, but I did.  I made my best effort to turn it over to the Lord and He removed the bitterness.  That was a triumph for me because it required some letting go--some opening of my heart and hands to things that were less than ideal and trusting that it would be exactly the experience I needed.  I think I have been able to submit to a lot of things, but it was special to have those moments where I felt the bitterness of disappointment removed.

The date was not ideal.  But it was okay.  I opened my heart to learning what God wanted me to learn, and I learned.  I had a beautiful birth experience, and, as always, it was worth the wait.

Due Date: Power, Love, and a Sound Mind

"God hath not given us the spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind."

2 Timothy 1:7

I feel very blessed that God has granted me this spirit.  It was good for me to write out my fears and concerns.  I felt His influence sustaining me in a miraculous way as I endured a very difficult night.  I have felt the hands of heaven sustaining me throughout this day as well.

Power:

I was able to spend the morning getting all of my vegetable garden planted.  I also weeded a good portion of the raspberry patch.  I rested a little in the afternoon, but was able to mostly stay busy and active.  I was given the power to endure, welcome and encourage contractions that kept me awake all night long.  I was granted the power to let people know when I needed their help.  I was granted the power to seek for and imagine heavenly hands sustaining me when the restlessness seemed more than I could bear.  

Love:

I felt love and hope and connection with Corban as I labored through the night.  I felt love from the midwife as she ministered to me early in the morning.  I felt love knowing that the experience was helping our bodies prepare for birth whenever that may be. I felt love from my mom as she enquirer about the situation.  I felt love from my friend as she checked up on me and offered to spend the afternoon here.  I wasn't sure how I was going to make it through the day, but holding her newborn daughter was the perfect way to spend it.  She also blessed me with some fun and generous baby gifts.  I felt love for Dallin as I let him sleep while I labored.

Sound mind:

It is no secret that this waiting type of trial can be so emotionally traumatic for me.  I have feared this time through my whole pregnancy.  Yet when false labor threw its all at me for 7 hours and then stopped for the whole day, I was able to feel a calm excitement for most of the day.  When thoughts of fear or discouragement would well up, I felt the power of a sound mind chasing them away.  I feel full of hope and calmness and a growing willingness to wait as long as it takes.

Reflections on the Third Trimester

Refreshing.  It was so refreshing to be able to be at the end!  I was big and heavy, but it was so fun to feel my active little baby and wonder and wonder about him.  It was so fun to arrive at the point where my midwife appointments were closer together.  I had hard times, especially at night when my whole body would start to itch.  It seemed the more tired I was, the harder it was to fall asleep.  I got through it with good vitamins, distractions, and lots of prayers.  My main distraction was books.  I got through a lot of books this trimester!  How fun!

I spent Spring Break with my mom.  We made some baby blankets that really got me excited.  I came home with energy and excitement, ready to prepare for a new baby!  I washed and folded clothes and blankets.  I cleaned and organized my room and baby's.  I organized other parts of the house and got the kids summer clothing switched out.  I made the cutest little blessing outfit! 

The emotional turmoil cleared up for the most part.  I had some parenting triumphs.  I found it easier to reach out and serve my neighbors and love and be around people.  The transition of the bishopric calling became easier as well. 

I had a fun third trimester.  Even as the due date drew near, it was exciting to tell people, "I feel better than I remember feeling this far along!"  I was gardening and sewing and cleaning and resting when I needed to.  It was great to have most of our school activities come to an end during April and May.  It gradually gave me more time to enjoy the projects and preparations. 

My third trimester was a tender mercy.