My Journey To Apostasy

     As with all exmormons, or former members of "The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints", I too want to discuss my feelings publicly. The Brighamite sect of the Mormons has a tendency to shame and silence exmembers. We are taught that "people who leave have always wanted to sin", it's perfectly okay to kick people when they're down and on hard times and we must remind them the church is my only way to happiness in this life, exmormons can "leave the church, but they can't leave it alone". ah yes, the only culture I've ever been raised in or known my whole life, I must give it ALL UP. Especially the virtues I liked, and I should never talk about the things in my culture that hurt me either. What a joke. Obviously, a phrase meant to control and silence. 

    So here I am, screaming at the internet that I am just as strong as my pioneer great grandfather who left Europe and former family traditions to join "Zion" in Utah. Yes such bravery, much hard. Maybe reading this you too can avoid your children and family leaving the church. My advice for that specifically would be: You must teach them love is conditional, knowledge has a ceiling and cannot extend into eternity, all people are evil because loving them as they are is a gateway drug to accepting people different from them as valid, and give up and grow up, on the idea of keeping your kids in the church forever because you can't control anyone other than yourself. In the words of Russel M Nelson, your job as a parent is to "Love them, lead them, and let them go" so at some point with them...let them go. 

I guess it will have to be a series, and so far these are the ideas I have. Subject to change with hyperlinks added later.

1.The gay agenda got me first

2.My mental health made me do it

3.Youtube radicalized me

4.I've always wanted to sin

5.Today's church history is tomorrow's anti-mormon rhetoric (jumping ship)

Writing to simply write.

     Don't you love those days where you channel your inner youth? You know, that teenager who danced like no one was watching but secretly hoped someone was. Hoped that someone was admiring and seeing you for all that you were, and all you could be. At least that was me. I've had a few friends say I've grown up, and some days I agree. Most days I'm in a place of denial hoping I'm still bouncy and carefree like I once was. At least my ability to bring joy to those around me with my silliness hasn't changed. Since going back to work from my maternity leave I was reminded many times with a chuckle that I was missed. That my "craziness" is well received with happiness. I've got that going for me still.

     So here I am this morning, dancing to music that reminds me of those days but aren't exactly from the past. Pretending I'm alone, but that somewhere someone who loves me can see my terrible white girl dancing around, while the eggs on the stove cooked to perfection. And writing. Writing to be heard, but not really understood.Writing to write, since I don't do that much anymore.

     But what spurned this blast from the past? Dreams. My dreams are an escape sometimes, but last night they were an old friend. The image of a full moon, cold grass, the feeling of a cool breeze on my face, all while basking in the warmth that is knowing I'm loved. One of my favorite memories. I'd go into specifics, but that would mean sharing it. And sharing anything but the feelings of those little moments feels like giving it away in a sense. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to give those type of memories away. I'll write them in my journal though, in hopes that after I'm gone my children will read them and say, "Mom was a person with feelings other than those of a mother." A carefree, sometimes careless young lady wondering if life could get any better.

     Alas, my thoughts are abruptly interrupted by my baby blue eyes grunting in the next room. And I'm reminded that while parts of me won't die anytime soon, other parts simply matter more.


Heather Rand




In case anyone wants a playlist, or just good tunes:

Give Me a Try by The Wombats
Flagpole Sitta by Harvey Danger
Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson

or check out Denver's Orange 93.3 on iheart radio (I sound like a commercial now)

Phillip's Birth Story

     I woke up to this text message and an immediately horrendous contraction. They started fast and strong, only 3 minutes between each 30 second contraction. After half an hour, I decided these were the real deal and I wanted to go to the hospital now. Considering we live an hour away from my chosen hospital, I felt that was a wise decision. I also had my labor and delivery nurse already setting up a room for me.
     The drive started behind the oldest man in the neighborhood, driving two miles per hour on our street. He nearly stopped turning a corner! Travis passed him while yelling we were having a baby. We saw a beautiful red, gold, and blue hot air balloon on the drive down. I felt it was a good luck sign. Travis only sped a little on the highway, and it was a bit of a blur because I was so much pain. He maybe ran a red light when we were down the street from the hospital, but I can neither confirm nor deny such an accusation. Don't worry, the intersections were empty if any infraction occurred. At this point, I felt like Phillip's head was going to come out at any moment. The pressure was immense, the contractions were quick and excruciating. Visions of epidural danced in my head.
     Upon checking in the receptionist seemed shocked I had a room reserved, since standard procedure for a pregnant lady in "labor" is mark as outpatient then the doc decides if you are actually in labor. Since Braxton Hicks can be painful this policy makes sense. However, I just traveled 45mins to an hour so I don't want to drive back. That, and something told me I was too far dilated to not give birth even if contractions ceased. I told the receptionist, "I know people upstairs." Technically, I only know my cousin Renee, (one of the senior labor and delivery nurses here).
     Renee came to wheel me upstairs, a little too cheerful despite my obvious pain. At this point I'm already 5cm almost 6, too fast! She got my iv in, popped the vein in my left hand, but magically the iv was good and she didn't have to poke twice. I needed to get the whole bag of fluids, and in before I could get my begged for epidural. The anesthesiologist could not come soon enough, but he had 30 minutes to respond to the call(10:43pm). He showed up as Renee offered to take the edge off with fentanyl. I turned to Travis and immediately mouthed the words, "I'm stoned."(10:45am) I felt high, and voiced as much. It did indeed helped the contractions. I began to profusely thank Renee, my new favorite person. At this point I've already dilated to 8. I also said, next time lower the dose just a little. Renee laughed and said she couldn't give me a lower dose. While still happy-go-lucky drugged, my new best friend came in, Mr. Jason the anesthesiologist. He was already ten times better than the lady who gave me the epidural for Bri, the mean lady who kicked Travis out and nagged at me for "asking too many questions". He was friendly and let Travis stay in the room.
     He administered the epidural like a champ, I didn't feel anything! Fortunately, the fentanyl only lasted 20 minutes. I had my senses back, and the epidural began to work. I wanted strawberry feels massage bar rubbed on my iv-free hand just to smell something nice. I still knew my contractions were happening, but on a pain scale went from a 9 to a 3. Thank heavens for modern medicine. I could breath and close my eyes for a bit(11-11:30am) while the contractions prepared my body for child birth. I started shaking, which is normal when transitioning from 7 to 8cm. Then the doctor checked me. Not quite a nine and a half, they wanted my cervix to disappear. I ask a lot a questions like "what happens if I'm not at 10 and push? Can I push, I feel the urge to push?", so I got a fun explanation of how we don't want my cervix to tear(scar tissue can cause pain during future menstruation cycles, and complications for future births) and it pretty much disappears somewhere unknown.
    I felt like I could give birth at any moment. At noon we all made our weight and birth time predictions, and it was obvious he'd be out within the hour. Dr. Little-12:13pm Travis-12:22pm Mom-12:16pm Renee-12:25pm Me-12:23pm (when I was born). I pushed for 30 minutes, relying heavily on the mirror to help focus my pushes. I felt little pain, lots of pressure, and when my contractions happened. The magic of modern medicine. His heart rate dropped for a few minutes so the doctor used the vacuum to help him out. I pushed for about half an hour.
      Phillip Matthew Meredith was born at 12:26pm on November 14th. He is 7lbs 10Oz and 19.5" long. He cried the sweetest cries for a a few minutes before staring at me. He is beautiful! I was so glad he was just as cute as Bri was. It was fear I wouldn't think he was cute, or he wouldn't actually be cute. And so far his demeanor is as happy as a clam.

Total labor time almost exactly 5 hours.
Pushed for roughly half an hour.

Tonight, you're my baby

I'm certain this needs to be written, transcribed, or otherwise documented. However, prepare for sap. 

Tonight was a night like some, but not all. I knew I wouldn't sleep at a decent hour,so instead of wasting it in bed with pointless scenarios, I decided to work on an old art project. I have these ceramic owls I got on the cheap on Etsy that haven't been touched in months. So I was watching Psych on Netflix, painting, and absorbing into the couch for a relaxing moment of me time. 

I heard some chest congested coughs and crying that wouldn't stop. Naturally, I tried the whole sneak in, replace binky, and leave, but she reached for me. Eyes closed, trusting I would be there, she reached for me. The next logical step was bring her to the couch to sleep next to me while I painted and watched tv. She cried until I asked if she wanted me to turn the light off. She got completely silent when I set her down and said I was going to turn the light off. Pushing aside my hobbies, to enjoy my full time life job, I still enjoyed an episode or two of witty quips intermingled with Shawn and Juliette romance. Meanwhile, I  realized I don't like sweating. Not much you can do about that though, when a coughing bub is on your lap. She would cough, cry, and get into a newer, more uncomfortable position on me.

The prospect of sleep seems a little more distant as I wonder if the coughing, crying, needing a hug routine will continue if she's in her room. So I brought her to our bed, and opened the window knowing that sweat is very likely with two toaster ovens in my bed. Just like her daddy. I stared at her in the dim light and for brief moments, I could see a grin. The same one my newborn surprised me with when I first watched her sleep. I turned my phone light on to see if it was my imagination. After ten minutes, I had to resign that I was seeing things. And now I'm crying that my baby is not a baby anymore. In many, many ways Bri is still a baby. Like not handling a room full of toys and kids and singing time well. And asking for binky when she doesn't feel good or is tired,or crying for a warm glass of milk. But, she not a baby at this point. Not with all the words, songs, and games learned. She's no longer laughing in her sleep.

And this is exactly how it happens folks. This is the moment a woman who hates pregnancy more than the prospect of dog pee on the floor, contemplates maybe a baby instead. 

Don't get your hopes up grandparents, I'm extremely tired and winding down off aunt flow. This very well may be, crazy talk. Insomnia plays tricks on the mind, and no chance of preggo happening tonight while I'm all moody. So just accept this as a moment I wanted to record, and maybe shed a tear. No more, maybe less.

Goodnight

-Heather Rand

Life is Grand

It's been quite some time since I've had to take any medications for my mood. I'm quite proud, but it's also frustrating to not be completely balanced and rational all the time. Let's be honest, I'm a woman, and in general women have more fluctuations in hormones and attitudes. Rationality, is not always a strong point. But I've learned a lot about myself in the process, mostly that I have bad PMS symptoms. I start crying at the tv, a mommy blog, or the terrible almost twos.

In other news, Bri will say Bri-Elle if you say "what's your name?". However, she must be in the right mood or you get a blank stare and quite possibly tears.

I've been painting on the computer a lot more. Currently I'm working on a piece where a girl is looking in the mirror at her past self. Pre-tats, nose job, and piercings. Because I wonder if anyone who has permanently changed their body ever misses the simple beauty of who they used to be. Even if they used to have a bigger nose.

Today at our ward play group there was a big discussion on botox for pain management. It's an interesting topic until I hear things like, move the needle around the knot immediately followed by that sounds heavenly. I know the prospect of a neck knot being worked out in a day or two from one needle stab and wiggle sounds appealing to some, but heavenly is not how I'd describe that. I spent that conversation trying to control my face so I didn't look like I was getting slightly queasy. But on the other hand, these were drop dead gorgeous women! Who needs botox. Seriously, it's way overrated to look 20. Just get some nice filling face primer and you'll notice those "wrinkles" less. Not to dog on my new ward ladies though, they're all really sweet and welcoming, and as stated above, beautiful.

In slightly gross news, we found signs of a mouse in the kitchen (and on a chewed up corner of Emmy's seed bag). We have killed (mercilessly) two. So far, the traps are clean. Thankfully it seems to be an isolated incident, and not like a huge family moved in. I love all animals, especially pet mice. Wild mice not invited on the other hand, are terminated with no concern.

And in the best update of all!! I saved up some mulah, bought my momma a plane ticket. And I'm stealing her for February! It's my birth month, and Bri's. I also have training classes for work I have to take, so I need her for that too. That's just an excuse, because there are plenty of nice ladies in the ward I could ask, But Mom is free, and I've missed her! Plus, she'll be here to help plan Bri's monster themed/sesame street birthday party, and it'll be amazing! I'm super stoked for Bri to turn two. I'm thinking about upgrading her to a "big girl bed" by taking the front off her convertible crib and getting a rail for the outside that she can still crawl around.

TTFN
-Heather

Updates

We took Bri to the doctor and he said he'd be impressed if she knew more than thirty words. Knows meaning, says and identifies objects or actions to the word. I said she knew the requisite twenty words for an almost two year old, he tickled her, she fell in love, she grew stronger hatred for the lady who gives the shots, and we left. Upon telling Travis he decided to make a list of all the words she does know, and associates with things correctly. She knows over 100 words. Not just like she says it for no reason. She knows what she's saying. The small list is as follows.

Car-sees car
Truck-sees truck, hears garbage truck
Airplane-looks up and see airplane, points in correct direction
Big-derived from "crazy beak" her toy penguin(crazy beak is when a bird does that shaking beak thing...it's affectionate)
Elmo-duh
Apple-round food
Orange-orange/cutie
Pear
Eat Food-usually grabs hand while saying this and directs you to food source(kitchen)
Bus-her bus toy
Doggie-dogs, or her specific dog toy
Moggie-derivative of Maddie her grandparents beagle
Birdy-birds, and Emmy the bird
Sit-to sit, when she wants you to sit
Dance-wants to dance to pentatonix daft punk on youtube(her favorite song)
Bear-stuffed bears
A-referring to any letter of the alphabet
Mommy
Daddy
Baba-grandma or grandpa
Chew-Julia (aka the Ju)
Eli-her friend Eli, she also says bye bye Eli when she leaves his house
Baba-sippy cup
Milk-milk
Pizza-pizza
Ice cream-ice cream, sour cream(to her disappointment), and whipped cream
Chok Chok-Chocolate and jacket
Bite-when she wants a bite
More-when she wants more
All gone- all done, get this food out of my face mama
Cheeshush-Jesus pictures (best lisp ever)
Amen-At the end of a prayer of course, unless she's being feisty and points at Julia and says Chew...AMEN! (not sure if that's a threat or not...)
Houst-Our new house
Color-crayons, and to color with markers, drawing, etc.
wawa/water- water, she rarely says it water..but sometimes she succeeds. Wawa is easier/lazy
Ball-balls of any kind
Fishy-fish/stuffed bunny
Bagel-muffins and bread and bagels
Cake-cake!
Coke-when she sees me drinking coke...oops. I can neither confirm nor deny the regularity of such
Cup-the cup the coke or water holds
Ice-she loves eating ice, and grabbing it out of your coke water
Book-she loves books
Chair-her chair, and all chairs and couches
Hot-when something is kinda warm to hot
Cold-must be pretty cold, like ice or the freezer
Flower-flowers
Pretty-when she likes something
Cute-also when she likes something(not as common as pretty)
Hug-when she wants or is giving a hug
Kiss-kisses!
Owie-when she falls and hurts herself
Tickle tickle-she is "tickling" you...fake laugh
Potty-her baby toilet
Various body parts-knee, feet, teeth, hair, ears, tummy
Pillow-she loves pillows
Blanky-not just any blanket, her blanket.
Bed-her pack and play in grandpa's office
Sockies-socks
Shoes-shoes and boots

That's just the preliminary list, I'm sure I'll hear about words I missed. Hearing the doctor say she's smart is like a yay moment. I know not everyone's kid is strong in the same points, and that early development milestones are subjective. This is not meant to shame or hurt anyone's feelings and not to make anyone think their own kid is dumb, it's just an update from her doctor and a moment of mommy pride.


In Heather related news, the withdrawal is going well. My mind is mine, and my patience seems to be all that is affected on my days between pills. I do however recognize when I'm getting ridiculously impatient with Bri. Mostly my problem is trembling like a sober tweaker, and headaches, oh and crying at tv commercials. I like that my thoughts are mine again though, and that I can feel again. The weird ideas that were plaguing me with the zoloft only return when it's in my system, so I'm kind of stubborn about taking it when I'm getting a really bad headache or really bad shakes.

Travis is...Travis. Nothing really newsworthy to report. He's amazing and I love him. He's a great dad. He's getting better at his job. I'm not sure he would like me bragging. Oh, he found us a new place, I will put pictures on facebook. I like it, love that it's just us again. Yay!


Hope you all have a great Thanksgiving!
-Heather

My depression story

I really feel like it's hard to people to talk about debilitating depression, or even seek help. Even now I wonder if anyone cares what I'm going through, aside from close family, or if telling my small story will help anyone. On the off chance that it helps someone, and on the serious note that I need to vent without judgement or feeling weird.

I'm a control freak. Not crazy control everything, but crazy when it comes to my mind and body. Aside from being a Mormon, I would probably never drink due to lack of control it creates. I'm aware of anything amiss in my mind and my body. Which is why a month early I tried to convince a doctor that I was in labor. I remember feeling like I wanted to punch Travis in the face, which to me was crazy. I just knew something was wrong and I panicked. Apparently, that's normal. I got a long lecture from the doctor as I sobbed that I needed to not waste everyone's time simply because pregnancy was hard. He made me feel so small, and yet I needed to hear it. I knew something wasn't right, but I was right enough to know I wasn't crazy enough to be strapped to a bed in the loony bin till my due date. I also refused to be that woman who decided to terminate her third trimester baby in boulder because of pregnancy depression. May that woman feel the full weight of her decision one day, and her guilt rest as heavily on the husband and psychiatrist that also felt that was a good decision. I won't link to an article about her, because it's sad and disgusting at the same time. The story is relevant because it's a medically proven disorder in women when they want to hurt their unborn child. I don't know why on earth anyone would ever think that was okay. I knew that hurting my baby would be a bad thing, but I wasn't there yet. The thought of cutting her out of me and taking her to the hospital (cuz I'm such a loving mother if I cut my baby out [LoCo]) had crossed my mind, so I went to my doctor.

I was given 25mg of sertraline, aka Zoloft. The initial side effects were annoying; insomnia and nausea if I remember correctly. It's been heaven sent, truly. It helped me be calm, it stopped my panic attacks that on one occasion almost stressed me into premature labor, mostly just bad cramps. I also think it helped quell the new mom crazy I might have been. I felt in control, and relaxed.

Until a few months ago. It started with dreams of...well I don't want to get weird so let's just say adulterous dreams. They weren't unappealing dreams, but I woke in a panic that my inner thoughts would stoop so low or even think about such things. They got worse, and I started crying over silly matters. I started telling Travis he wasn't fulfilling my needs, and he needed to focus on me more. ME, me, me. I started to wonder if maybe he wasn't who I was meant to be with. Just thoughts that I tried not to entertain, but they were there. I found myself crying to Travis that I really did love him begging him not to leave me, which confused the heck out of the husband who thought I was fine five minutes ago. I just couldn't shut my mind down. I couldn't control what I was thinking. It felt like when someone says don't think of elephant, and it's all you can think of. My blessing in disguise came when my prescription lapsed and the pharmacy and doctor's office played the putz game of slowly ordering me a refill. I had a panic attack during the four days it took them to figure it out. I called to let them know I needed it now, which they hopped to after hearing of the panic attacks.

However, I didn't realize until a few days later when I forgot to take my medicine that...my thoughts were mine. My dreams were gone. I was able to focus on what I wanted to without a rush of thoughts I didn't want any part of. It was awesome! I also didn't have trouble sleeping the days I forgot to take it. It was then I decided I might need to stop taking it. So far I'm down to half a dose every other day...ish. I went two days and threw a temper tantrum over not having a certain dress clean for church. I even stomped my foot and began to cry. Luckily, my logical side kicked in and said KNOCK IT OFF! Sadly I'm experiencing withdrawal symptoms, so I could use some prayers.

The whole point, it's okay to not be okay. I recommend knowing yourself well enough to know when things aren't right. Prayer is a great help. Sure a prayer hasn't cured a headache without tylenol or ibuprofen, but hey it helps. Prayer helps me to know that I'm not crazy, nor should be ashamed at my imperfections. Prayer has helped me realize my savior still loves me when I'm not perfect. Prayer reminds me that even if the hand isn't pulling me up or wiping away all my troubles, there is a hand to hold. And I want others to know you aren't ever alone, and even with a supportive family depression can be a struggle. But it's just chemicals in your brain and body not working right. It may feel like the end of the world, but it's literally an imbalance. Meds helped me, but they don't help everyone. And getting off of the meds isn't easy. I read facebook posts of a friend going off cymbalta. His life was heck for a while, but he did it! (to the best of my knowledge) But know you are not alone, and if no one else in this universe loves you I would like to offer that I feel Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love me. For me that's proof enough. The same type of way I know that weaning off Zoloft is best for my body. I just know. Maybe my personal experiences will help you in some way.

"Now ye may suppose that this is foolishness in me; but behold I say unto you, that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass; and small means in many instances doth confound the wise. And the Lord God doth work by means to bring about his great and eternal purposes; and by very small means the Lord doth confound the wise and bringeth about the salvation of many souls." Alma 37:6-7

-Heather

p.s. The storm story was meant to end with the dragon saving her from the prince, a fun writing idea I saw online. But I don't want to continue it. Not because of galaxy eyes that become the man cursed as a dragon or the implications of such a specific poetic reference (which was never intended, my apologies). I won't continue it because it's too good. Why fix what isn't broken? Or continue the story that is so good alone. Eh maybe one day when my brain doesn't feel like mush.