Better Late than Never

I figured Valentine's Day was my last day to reasonably expect to be part of the "holiday season" group. Yet, I had such high hopes for getting these out by Christmas with a note about how this season we are celebrating the birth of two lambs and include the poem by William Blake.


Wouldn't I have looked smart and on top of it?


But, really, I'm just lazy, so I combined Emma's birth announcements as a holiday card and with thank you notes written on the back and stayed up until midnight the past 2 nights to get them done.

Delightful Emma

With those cheeks, that double chin, and that smile, I must admit that I'm completely smitten.

Emmeline's blessing

We blessed Emmeline on January 2nd in our church, hoping that more family could come because it was during the holidays. Unfortunately, that didn't turn out to be the case, so we would like to particularly thank Emmeline's grandparents, my sister, Rachel's family, and Nate's sister, Julie's family for making it.


We had friends make the trek out from Gilbert (thanks, Steeds!), and a whole host of ward family there.


I'm usually too overwhelmed to plan much beyond telling Nate and the bishop when we'd like to bless our baby. Maybe it's because Emmeline is such a good sleeper, maybe it's because I haven't sent out holiday cards or birth announcements that I had more time to make the day special, but I did a few things to try and make the day more significant:


Most importantly, Emmeline wore the same blessing dress every woman in the Sorensen (Nate's mom's) family has worn since Nate's grandma. Grandma Wanda took her wedding dress and made it into a blessing gown. It's beautiful and delicate, and I was in a panic that Emmeline would have a blow-out diaper wearing the 70 year old dress. I'm still breathing a sigh of relief that she didn't.

I told Nate that I needed Emmeline wrapped in a giraffe blanket that my Exponent blogger friends had given her. I loved that Emmeline would be blessed in blanket given by women I love, wrapped in a giraffe print that has special significance to me. Then, Nate forgot to take up the blanket...oh well.

My aunt, Carol, gave Emmeline a pearl bracelet, so I was able to have her wear something from her matrilineal line, and I decided to wear the pearls I wore on my wedding day as a kind of other connection.

And, Nate gave a short, but sweet blessing in church. Then, I gave my testimony during the meeting, explaining why we had named her (you can see this post for the details) and how I hoped that she would take after the man and women she was named after.


Then, we ended the busy day with a pie party with more friends and family. Judy and Julie made some French silk pies, my mom made my favorite peanut butter pies, Nate made his famous banana cream pies, and I made a key lime and a couple of apples. Seriously, if you have to plan an easy party, do a pie party!

A lovely day, but I must admit that I'm not that sad that it was the last baby blessing day I have to organize.

Feliz Navidad!

Because this is as close as we"ll get to a Christmas card this year :)

Emmeline's birth story

The picture (taken the first or second day after we came home) was a common scene at our house for the first few weeks...Asher and/or Luke playing with Emmeline's toys while she was nearby, screaming because I kept hoping they would work on entertaining her.

Just when I began to think of Emmeline's birthday as being November 22nd (I was scheduling an induction for that day so I didn't have to be in the hospital over Thanksgiving), I went into labor, but even then, I wasn't so sure it was labor because the contractions didn't feel much different than the contractions I had been having every day for the past two weeks.

So, Thursday, November 18th, began like any other, but I was feeling a little brighter because I had a doctor's appointment and was getting my membranes stripped. And, even if worse came to worse, I'd only have 4 more nights of sleeping (or not sleeping as the case may be) as a gigantic pregnant woman.

I went to my ob at 9:40, and she said, "I think you're going to have this baby tonight." I said, "Really? Well, strip my membranes anyway so I do!"

Then, I went to Asher's Thanksgiving feast at school (with Asher and Luke while thinking, "I wonder if these are contractions." And, "Do I really want to be throwing up this Thanksgiving feast if I am in labor? Meh, it'll probably taste the same coming up as going down..."). Yelled at my kids the whole time (awesome) and came home to try and rest.

That's when I realized those were contractions. Still not daring to hope, it took me until about 2:30 to cancel piano lessons and call Nate and tell him to come home. Nate said he was on his way and arrived at about 4.

At 4:10, we're leaving for the hospital while Nate is saying, "You know, Emily, those contractions don't seem to be that bad," which is not something to tell a laboring women. Though, really, he was right. They weren't bad, but they were 3-4 minutes apart, and I was not going to be one of those women who they say, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but you're too close to be getting an epidural now."

We get into triage at 4:45 or something like that. They see I'm already at a 7 (7--awesome!) and send me up quickly to Labor and Delivery. Within 20 minutes of getting there, I have my precious epidural (said with Golum-like intensity) and they've started my penicillin for Strep B because they're worried that I won't make it for the two doses in 5 hours.

Labor goes well except for some blood pressure dropping on my part, which led to some nausea that not even Zofran could keep up with. All the while, people at the hospital (students, staff, maybe someone off the street was interested for all I know) keep asking if they can watch while I deliver. I don't know if I would have been so willing with #1 or #2, but I've lost all pride, and I'll do what I can to train a rising generation of healthcare professionals (especially if all they're doing is watching).

By the time I'm ready to push, there are 12 women and Nate in my room. It was lovely to have a chorus of women there for the birth of my girl, and it was the most painful delivery (probably having something to do with the 9 pound 6 oz individual I was birthing), so I was happy to push to encouraging words in surround sound.

At 9:10 pm, I got my last dose of penicillin, and at 9:20 (or something like that), Emmeline was born. She didn't cry right away, and I started to see the panic in peoples' faces that we saw with Asher's birth.

The nice thing about my brain when my babies aren't breathing is that it goes into complete and utter DE-NIAL. Both times I've seen the worried looks on doctors and nurses faces, I've watched the neo-natal specialists turn their backs to me as they pound on my baby. I feel the tension in the room, and I rather serenely have thought both times, "He/She will breathe. There's just NO way they won't." (This is especially silly considering my former career as a chaplain where I saw several babies who didn't breath after birth.)

So, while I'd like to say it's because I have awesome mother's intuition and KNOW that things will be ok, I think it's just that the alternative is completely unfathomable to a woman in that situation.

And, she did breath about 6 seconds before she would have had to go to the NICU. So, they gave her back to me, and she started nursing right away. She was/is a pro!

Such a pro, that she nursed ALL NIGHT and cried often and rather incessantly until my milk came in 3 days later. (The nurse on the first night recommended that I cup feed her some formula, which I dismissed remembering that "babies aren't hungry until the milk comes in") The nurse the next day recommended cup feeding. By 5 pm the second day, I gave in, and Emmeline gratefully gulped down the tepid formula and slept for 5 hours. Whoops...

Emma has been a pleasure every since my milk came in. She's content to sit in her swing, wakes on a schedule of her own every night at 11 and 2:30 to nurse.

In fact, she's just lovely unless you forget to feed her. Then, heaven help us all, she'll go from quite to a wail that sounds like she hasn't been fed in 50 years.

Christmas ornaments 2010

Every year, I get the kids an ornament. My mom was more ambitious than I...I had all red angels, Sarah had all green angels, and Rachel had all blue angels with David having nutcrackers and Tom having Santas (or maybe the boys are the other way around).
This year, I let Asher and Luke pick the ornaments on a day when Asher had pink eye and I needed a bribe to get through the day. I had gone to the Hallmark website to look things over and had a pretty good idea of what we might get.

I wanted to get Luke this Animal from the Muppets ornament. I got Luke an Animal t-shirt this year that scared him until I showed him a few YouTube clips of Animal. Now, Luke LOVES Animal and unfortunately, imitates him at inopportune moments. Still, if Luke played the drums, he'd do it with his feet, too.

And, I wanted Asher to get this cute Green Eggs and Ham ornament because we've been working so hard on his reading. And, because we've tried a few new foods this year that Asher has ended up liking to which I point out, "Now, aren't you glad you tried it like Green Eggs and Ham?" Of course, then, he has to remind me he is allergic to eggs.

But, I'm flexible...I was willing to go with the Tom and Jerry ornament. Don't love it, but I was open to it.

I was hoping if Luke didn't want Animal, I could talk him into this Star Wars ornament, but I didn't have a lot of home. He's kind of burned out on Star Wars since the whole "my mom made me be a

Jedi for Halloween" thing.

I was even willing to go with this Scooby-Doo ornament (though I may have changed my mind the 532nd time I heard Scooby say, "RERRY RISTMAS!").

Like I said...totally flexible.

But, what I didn't forsee is the train ornaments because seriously, I like to think we're seeing the light at the end of the train fad tunnel finally (FINALLY!).

Totally wrong though...

Asher got this little Lionel steamer that is supposed to hook together, but won't.

And, Luke got this Polar Express ornament. We did this yesterday and have already lost the bell. But, don't worry, it never rang (I checked with Asher and Luke to make sure it wasn't me ;) ) anyway.

I was firm when both boys decided they desperately wanted this $45 ornament where that train you see? It goes around the ornament and through the tunnel--sheesh!

Not to fear, though...I got to pick out Emma's ornament from this shop. At least she's not old enough to fight me.

I just try to get my kids an ornament of something they liked that year.

Emmeline Starr Curtis

Phew! I thought I had enough energy to write her short and sweet birth story, but apparently not.

Here's Emmeline after her bath this morning (well, #1 bath, then, she pooped, so she got another, more perfunctory #2 bath, then, while she was doing a little naked tummy time she managed to pee all over herself--at that point, she just got a baby wipe bath).

These other pictures are of the hospital visit.

We're all thrilled she's here. The boys have been really good with her (though I wish they could get the hand-washing and no coughing in their sister's face). And, though I hate to jinx myself on day #5, so far things have gone pretty darn smoothly.

Gains and Losses This Week

(Can you tell I'm doing a little blog cleaning tonight?)

This week, I have lost:

-my appetite
-Luke--several times
-the ability to sleep more than 2 hours at a time
-the idea that it would be problematic to wear anything but the same pair of yoga pants day after day

This week, I have gained:
-the ability to walk like a duck
-four pounds (seriously, seriously?)

And, another thing not to say to your pregnant wife when she comes home from the doctor and tells you how much she weighs:

"Wow! I never thought you'd weight that much!"

Utah weekend

So, I did something a little crazy this weekend...with 27 days left before my due date, I got on a plane and flew to Utah to speak at a conference with some of my favorite people.

Asher and Luke, missing me, decided to take comfort in sharing my shape over the weekend. Nate did co-op duties at Luke's preschool Saturday morning, worked on reports at night, and used grandmother help when necessary. (Seriously, what do other people do without 2 grandmas living 5 minutes away?!)

My trip had to be pared down to essentials: a dinner with my Exponent bloggers (that I could only stay an hour for, though I was tempted to risk it and stay longer), the conference on Saturday, dinner with family on Saturday night, and then, back to Phoenix on Sunday. I was sad that I couldn't see any UT friends, but I knew that would push my schedule over the edge.

My part of the conference went ok; I hate speaking this late into my pregnancy. I get breathless and my brain is a little foggy. The rest of my panel was fantastic, as usual. The other speakers we heard were so good. And, I got to see one of my lovely friends recieve a well-deserved award for her work in Africa this year. I was bummed when I realized at 3 pm that I was going to be barfing if I didn't get back to Springville and rest.

But, I must admit that I was particularly thrilled to have D'Arcy, my friend, offer to do some pregnancy shots. We kept running out of time, so she did these in a corner of the University of Utah's cafeteria in about 10 minutes. And, she managed to make a tired, bloated, 9 month pregnant lady look pretty darn good!

Incidentally, D'Arcy will be here at the first of December if any Arizonans are interested in getting her to do a photo shoot of their family. (You can find her contact information on the blog link above or email me for it.) She's so good at putting people at ease and really has an eye for staging shots!

Naming #3

So, #3 is coming in 5 weeks (hooray!).

I always thought I'd be wading through girls' names, trying to find just the perfect one. After all, there are so many lovely options.

But, when I actually had to choose a name, I've found that I wasn't excited about the search I had so looked forward to. Throughout my pregnancy, I have had a very specific name in mind, and as much as people try to help me broaden my horizons, I remain set on just one name. My family reads to me from baby naming books, my friends send me links of good baby-naming websites, yet I remain stuck. I just think this baby should be named Emmeline.

I love it because it’s after the founding editor of Woman’s Exponent and former Relief Society president, Emmeline B. Wells. I love it because her nickname could be Emma. Look at that! Two strong Mormon women covered with one name! And, I’ll admit that I love it because she has a cousin who will be 13 months older than she who’s name is Eliza. Seriously, I can hardly wait to get pictures of those two together.

But, perhaps, I'm limiting myself and her by not exploring more options. And, I'm a little ambivalent about this name because it is so similar to my name, "Emily." That'll make things difficult for the rest of the family. And, with the current knowledge of famous Mormon women, I suspect that most people will think I was vain and just made up a name that was similar to my own.

I know that I do so want her to share a name with a strong Mormon woman. I think it is in large part because I hope that such a name will give her power and strength to thrive and grow in the Church. I also want her (and myself) to proudly tell the story of the woman she was named after when the topic comes up; I know I always love to do that with my namesake, Emily Dickinson.

I told this to Nate, and he thought these were good reasons to stick with historical Mormon women. (Well, that and the fact that the only name I could settle on from the Bible was Jezebel because really, that woman gets a bad rap!) So, he went through a bunch of books on Mormon Church history. He came back saying, "Huh, there really aren't many women in that book." Darn!

So, in the past couple days, I have felt like I should make one last push. But, I'm pretty lazy, which is why I turn to you.

What strong names (Mormon or otherwise) have you or would you pick for your daughters and why? Has your name helped you feel stronger or more confident in your life? How so?

Emily and Baby's summer

Ok, this is an old post, but when it's 105 out, really, it still feels like we're in summer. And, the picture? That's me at 16 weeks. Oh, I was so cute and tiny, I can hardly stand it! I need to get around to taking another picture (at 33 weeks), but it's rare that I have my hair and make-up done and I'm fully dressed. So, don't hold your breath.

This baby and I have been taking it easy this summer. We don't like the heat, but we did discover that we LOVE Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Yes, I'm completely embarrassed to admit that I watched all 7 seasons this summer (can I point out that I got 3 seasons done during my Rotavirus illness?), and I'm contemplating writing Sarah Michelle Gellar a fan letter about how she helped me get through a difficult summer.

As Asher gets back into school and I am in the final countdown for Luke to return (summer camp went WAY to fast!), I'm ready to start up piano lessons and get ready for this baby to arrive. But, I don't want to redo the nursery. I think a safari theme will be just fine for this little girl.

Today, Rachel and I went shopping, and I found an outfit for the baby, but like seeing the movie, Eclipse, I get all angsty when I see the problems inherent in our culture for raising girls. Important things like why have clothing manufacturers decided that boys=dogs and girls=cats? Pul-ease! And, why do girls get all the smocking fun? Ah! I'm loving the ease of finding smocking!

We're working on names for this little one. I have one that I can't shake, but it's not practical or particularly beautiful. I just love it and can't to think to call her anything else. Nate is being a good sport about it, but I feel like I have to work a little harder before I can make an official announcement.

15th Anniversary of Life Without a Colon

Fifteen years ago, I wanted a BIG present to celebrate my birthday and graduation from high school; it cost more than both of their cars put together.

I was asking, pleading for a colectomy. Every year at this time, I think about this surgery, which for me, happened to be my cure from ulcerative colitis.

I am so lucky. Lucky, lucky, lucky.

Over the past 4 or 5 years, I've realized that now, I have lots of peers and dear friends who are far wiser than I--their struggles make this event 15 years ago look like a trip to Disneyland. That smug wisdom I had at 18 is over.

But, for a few years, that illness made me wiser than many of my peers. I learned about mortality. I knew, as only a select group of teenagers ever know, that sometimes, no matter how badly you want to live, your body won't cooperate. You'll keep bleeding, loosing weight, getting weaker.

No matter your positive thoughts.
No matter your prayers.

And, I learned that sometimes, for whatever arbitrary reason (because the older I get, unfortunately I realize that who stays and who goes feels terribly arbitrary), healing can happen, though it's often not in the form I originally thought it would come in.

Instead of the miraculous healing I prayed for, the one where my symptoms disapper, and I walk out of the hospital, leaving doctors scratching their heads... I ended up with a different result, one without a colon and a few adjustments to my life, but a healing just as miraculous because of the many lessons it taught me.

If I hadn't gotten so sick that summer, I think the life I led would have been very different. There are dear friends I would have never met.

I think it even had a profound affect on the person I chose to marry. Perhaps you've met Nate...We didn't (don't) seem to have much in common on the surface, but 1995 was a rough year for both of us. And the things we learned that year (though such knowledge came under very different circumstances) formed part of our immediate bond when we got reacquainted in college and still frames our lives today, carrying us through difficult times--perhaps you've also heard of June 2010? There have been days where I think it's trying to give June 1995 a run for its money as the WORST. MONTH. EVER.

Anyway, I wouldn't have gone into religious studies or found hospital chaplaincy. I don't think I would have applied to the graduate schools that I applied to and certainly wouldn't have had the courage to go to the one I ended up going to. In fact, my mantra for five years post-surgery was, "I can do that. I've gone without food or water for 40 days, I've been in the hospital for 2 months, and I've lost a colon. This is nothing."

That last flare-up taught me more about God and charity (and how God uses others to show love, do God's work, and comfort us) than I have learned before or since. It also taught me a reliance on God that I don't know if I could have learned any other way. I learned that when it's 3 am, and I had to wait 2 more hours before my next doses of anti-nausea medication and/or pain medication, well, there wasn't anyone else who was able to sit in that room and wait with me quite like Jesus did (though my mom was a close second).

And, on the lighter side, really, the excuse, "I can't...I don't have a colon," is just a pleasure to spout out every once in a while, even when it makes no sense.

A couple years ago, I had an ob/gyn give me an exam. She looked at my stomach 14 inch vertical scar and the 6 inch horizontal scar. She said (as most people do), "Oh my gosh! What happened?!"

I explained I had a colectomy. She said, "You know, they only make about a 4 inch incision now for the whole surgery."

But, I'm happy with my scars because a 5 inch incision just wouldn't do justice to the illness or the healing. As I've reflected all month on where I was 15 years ago (yes, I'm a little embarrassed that I have thought about June 1995 this much), I wish I could show that 18 year old Emily my stomach today, pregnant with Baby #3, with the faded scars and most importantly, I'd have her notice that there aren't any new scars. She never had another flare-up that would necessitate more scarring, she even got pregnant and that trusty pseudo-colon made it unnecessary for the Cesearans the doctors promised she'd need.

That ugly stomach would show her that she did what she feared she'd never be able to do when she got out of the hospital--grow up, move out, and move on.

Technically, this post should have been posted yesterday, but I was feeling just a little too tender to get it up.

Strange Cravings

Guess what's happening in (to?) our family in about six months?