A Tale of Two Pregnancies

Pregnancy really loses its magic when you do it more than once, I've discovered.

When I was pregnant with Zara, I read What to Expect When You're Expecting obsessively. I knew exactly how far along I was to the week and day and I knew what size fruit my baby was and how she was developing every inch of the way.

This time around, I know when I got pregnant and I know when the baby is supposed to come out but don't ask me to actually count the weeks. You can do the math for yourself.

(Though for curiousity's sake, I just looked it up and I'm only 27 weeks along. That's a bummer. I thought I was at like week 30 or something.)

I don't know whether she's the length of a banana or the size of broccoli or if her lungs are developed or if she's grown fingernails. According to the ultrasound, she has two arms, two legs, and a head. I'm feeling pretty good about that.

With Zara, I marveled at my expanding belly, took consistent maternity shots to mark its progress and delighted in feeling her move around.

I have not taken a photograph of myself since Thanksgiving (maybe Christmas?) and it was certainly not to leave a lasting image of my expansion.

For the record, I am much bigger this time than I was with Zara. Thanks for reminding me.

And yes, this baby kicks me all the time...just like her sister. And no, it's not as much fun. It hurts and it makes it hard to breathe.

With Zara, I read everything I could about child birth, labor, relaxation techniques, did prenatal yoga and went swimming to keep strong and in shape so I would have a better chance of having a natural childbirth.

This time, I'm studiously avoiding my childbirth books. I should probably remind David how to demonstrate proper breathing techniques during labor since I won't have a doula this time.

My daily exercise typically involves the long walk from my office in the JFSB to the Wilk on campus to buy a mint brownie. And then I have to walk ALL the way back.

I really wish Utah had embraced the expectant mother parking trend. But then they'd need more expectant mother parking spots than handicapped spots.

With Zara, I could spend hours aahhing over baby clothes, looking at baby gear, and reading all the product safety reviews and spending hour after agonizing hour deciding which carseat/stroller/bottle/pacifier to buy.

I figure we already got most of that stuff covered now, so we're good. She won't care that everything is secondhand, right?

I don't mean to imply that I'm completely miserable this time around or that I'm not still terribly excited for this little girl to make her debut, but I do find it funny how different this pregnancy has been compared to Zara's. It really, really makes me wonder how some women do this many, many times. And I have *easy* pregnancies compared to most women.

Single Parenthood

David is in Paris for the week. He went with a few other students from the MBA program as a way to complete his requirements for his Global Management Certificate, which is basically like a minor in international business. They do a trip to Europe and a trip to Asia each year but since he's already conquered Asia, David decided to do the Europe trip. This is his first time in Europe and he was a little disappointed to go to France (given that there are several other countries in Europe he wanted to visit first) but at least I'm not super rabidly jealous of him since I've been to Paris twice. He's enjoyed some of the sight-seeing and the food, but he's also been sick the last few days and the weather is just as cold there as it is here so it hasn't been the most pleasant trip for him. Maybe he'll share some of his experiences here when he returns.

He left last Friday and will return next Monday. I will be very glad when he returns. Even though David and I had a long distance relationship for the majority of our two year dating relationship, we haven't spent much time apart since we got married 4.5 years ago. We've tried very hard to keep it that way and this is the longest amount of time we've spent apart since then. It's been a lot harder--on both of us--than I think we both expected.

Zara misses her daddy a lot. Every day when I go out to get David's Wall Street Journal, Zara grabs it from me and then runs through the house asking, "Where's Daddy?" so she can give him his paper. She doesn't understand why he's not here.

The experience has given me great appreciation for single parents. I can't even really compare myself to them since it's only 10 measly days apart, but I really don't know how single parents do it day after day. My boss is an incredible example of doing it gracefully and successfully. Her husband died several years ago, leaving her widowed with four children, some still quite young. I know she may not always feel like she's got it all together, but I've been in awe of her and her ability to juggle a full-time career with full-time parenting. She really is incredible.

It's not just doing it alone that seems so hard, it's doing it without the constant support and companionship of someone else. Someone you can talk to, and complain to, someone who is right there in the trenches with you, trying to figure out how to raise a kid without having to send them to therapy for the rest of their lives. Someone you can relax with, someone you can laugh with, someone you can share every moment of your life with. And even though there have honestly been times when I have felt like a military widow or a grad school widow, that I've been shouldering most of the parenting by myself, I never really have. David has always been there to talk me off of ledges, to avert potential mental breakdowns and shower our daughter with his love and attention. He really is the best partner to have in this life.

Can it just be Monday already?

The Expanding Malones

When I was pregnant with Zara, David gave me a blessing where he basically told me that Zara had been watching us from heaven and had chosen us as her parents and was excited to be a part of our family. I've thought about that quite a bit recently and I would totally pick us as parents.....we're pretty awesome.

Apparently, another little girl has picked us to be her parents as well and she'll be making her appearance near the end of May.

I would post the requisite ultrasound image to prove it, but well, those things just look like giant blobs to me and even though the three pictures the ultrasound technician gave us are labeled with body parts and a clear proclamation of "GIRL!," you'll just have to take her [and my] word for it.

I had debated about when to make the "official" internet announcement. Close friends and family (particularly those who have seen my expanding belly in person) know, but I've enjoyed keeping this pregnancy quiet and inconspicuous.  A small (small) part of me wanted to not say anything until she was born and just post a picture with "Surprise! I had a baby!" But now that we know what we're having and the baby is moving and making her presence felt so much more, I didn't want to keep quiet anymore. But I wanted to post on the blog first before I took the announcement to Facebook.

We're very excited to have another girl, though I think David is a little apprehensive of what he's going to do with two daughters, especially once they hit the teenage years. I will admit that a small, small part of me was really hoping for a boy but only because we have a boy name picked out and ready to go and we cannot agree on a single girl's name. It's not even that we can't agree, it's that we can't even think of any good options to begin with. So if anyone wants to offer up some girl name suggestions (with the tiny hint of possibility that we may steal it from you), please do so. I am in a girl name rut and I need some help.


And for those who care about this sort of information, I'm currently 21 weeks and am planning to have a water birth with a midwife at a birthing center here in Provo. I'm very excited to be working with our midwife and am looking forward (yes looking forward) to having a completely natural and hospital-free birth. :)

What's in a name?

This week I have been thinking about names. Most people who know me know that I have a weird hang-up about names--particularly first names. I changed my name when I was nine (from my given name Amanda to my middle name Elizabeth) and it was an essential, defining moment in my life; one that finally allowed me to be comfortable with my identity.

So it seems like a little funny to me now that of all the adjustments I had to make when I first married, changing my last name was the most difficult aspect of all. I had fought to be me--Liz Hayman--and for so long that I honestly didn't anticipate how hard it would be to adopt a whole new last name. And now, four and a half years later, I'm starting to feel comfortable as Liz Malone. Except for one thing.

Malone is obviously a very Irish name which is great for my Irish husband, but most people seem to assume that I must be Irish too. (Which I'm not....to the best of my knowledge.)

See, you infer many things about a person based on their last name. We make judgments, assumptions, even prejudicial decisions based on the origin of a person's family name. But Malone, while a fabulous name with a rich history, does not express who I am.

Though, honestly, Hayman doesn't really either.

See, Hayman is a wonderfully English name bestowed upon my family by the stepfather of my paternal great-grandfather. When his mother remarried, my great-grandfather was adopted by his stepfather--Joseph Hayman. My last name really should have been Cheiffetz, a good Jewish name for my Jewish ancestors. It doesn't represent the Millers (my Grandpa Hayman's maternal line) who were of German descent but immigrated to America from Latvia (then a part of Russia).

Nor does it account for my Grandma Hayman, formerly a Leavitt, whose surname came from a deviation of Lovat, a part of Clan Fraser from Scotland. Or that she was a fifth-generation Mormon whose ancestor, on her mother's side, was Peninah Cotton Wood, one of the first Native Americans to be baptized into the faith, and the first to enter into a plural marriage.

And it totally ignores my maternal line. It doesn't tell you anything about my great-grandmother, Anna Barbara Lakta who immigrated from Poland when she was nineteen years old with only her niece Veronica, and who worked as a Harvey Girl in Chicago for many years. It says nothing of her husband, Albert George Urbanik, another Polish Catholic immigrant, who worked on the trains in Gary, Indiana.

It misses my maternal grandmother's line, from another long stock of pioneer converts to the Church, who came to Utah from Denmark and other European countries, to live their religion in a desert land.

No, Malone does not adequately identify who I am....but then again, neither does Hayman, I guess. But is there really a last name out there that would convey to you that I'm just a little bit English, Scottish, German/Russian Jew, Polish Catholic, Scandinavian, with a little side helping of Native American?

So, in other words, just your typical, good old American mutt.

And in that case, any name should work just fine. Even an Irish one. ;) 

Do Overs

I've made a little quasi goal with myself to try to write a new blog post every Sunday, particularly on the things that I've been thinking about throughout the week. Which is not to say that I won't be writing about Zara from time to time, but I'm trying not to brag too much about that girl. She's seriously awesome.

David and I tend to get a little chatty at night, as we're both trying to fall asleep. Well, most nights, David falls asleep approximately 12.3 seconds after his head hits the pillow, but on the nights that David has a harder time falling asleep, we tend to talk about many different things--current events, history, economics, existential life questions....you know, typical pillow talk.

This week I've been thinking about what I may have done differently if I was starting school all over again. Would I chose something different?

While both David and I are quite happy with the subjects we've chosen to study and the careers we'd like to pursue, it was interesting to think about what we might have done differently.

David (BA in accounting, working on an MBA in finance) started out as an engineering major before flunking out during his first semester at Georgia Tech. He would have made a great engineer and still has an interest in the topic. (He prefers mechanical engineering.) I don't know how he does it, but he can just look at something, examine it, and figure out how it works and how to fix it. He said that if he'd stayed with accounting, he'd have enjoyed forensic accounting.

On the same career trajectory (BA and MA in American Studies), I would have made a few tweaks. I wish that I had majored in history at BYU, rather than American Studies (which is a stronger program and would have provided a more structured education) and minored in anthropology, rather than art history (art history only offered 1 class on museum work but anthropology has 4-5 classes on museums....who knew?). But I still would have done the exact same master's program, specializing in material culture and public history.

When I first entered college, I was deciding between studying American history in order to work in a history museum (which I love and knew I could excel at) or zoology in order to be a veterinarian/zookeeper (which I would have enjoyed, but would have had to work really hard at). I still find the sciences fascinating (although they don't come easy to me) and I love animals, but now I think that if I entered a completely different profession, I would chose psychology and become a therapist.

Based on personal research (read: having doctor's appointments), I've discovered that most health care professionals kinda suck when it comes to interacting with human beings. I've also realized that I really like talking with people, hearing their stories and trying to offer advice (when it's asked for) and providing general support and encouragement. One of the few gifts I feel that I have been given is the ability to empathize with other people and to not judge too harshly. Though I still want to inspire people to love history, I like the idea of helping people in more meaningful ways.

So lone blog reader, if you could have a do over, would you have studied something different?

TED Talks

I've been watching a lot of TED lately. If you haven't seen a TED Talk, they are 10-20 minute talks by scholars, activists, scientists, doctors, writers, etc. I find so many of the talks to be funny, inspiring, enlightening, and thought provoking. TED's tagline is "Ideas worth spreading" and I find that almost all of the talks I've watched do just that. I kinda want to give a TED talk myself in the future. I have no idea what I'd talk about, but I just think they are so cool. Here's a couple of my favorites:

My first TED Talk and still one of my favorites. Jill Bolte Taylor got a research opportunity few brain scientists would wish for: She had a massive stroke, and watched as her brain functions -- motion, speech, self-awareness -- shut down one by one. An astonishing story.

Sir Ken Robinson makes an entertaining and profoundly moving case for creating an education system that nurtures (rather than undermines) creativity. He is British so his talk is wonderfully dry and witty.

I've never read anything by Elizabeth Gilbert but I find her talk to be exceptionally insightful. She muses on the impossible things we expect from artists and geniuses -- and shares the radical idea that, instead of the rare person "being" a genius, all of us "have" a genius. It's a funny, personal and surprisingly moving talk.

Another wonderfully hilarious talk, while at the same time changing the way you might perceive happiness. Psychologist Shawn Achor argues that actually happiness inspires productivity.

Body language affects how others see us, but it may also change how we see ourselves. Social psychologist Amy Cuddy shows how “power posing” -- standing in a posture of confidence, even when we don’t feel confident -- can affect testosterone and cortisol levels in the brain, and might even have an impact on our chances for success.

Enjoy! And tell me if you'd recommend other TED talks. I'm always looking for good ones to watch.

On Being an Introvert

I am an introvert; I hope this does not come as a shock to anyone. Reading a book is as necessary to me as breathing air. I crave alone time. I enjoy discussing difficult topics with thoughtful and respectful thinkers. I like to stay home where my environment is comfortable and familiar. I live, quite happily, within my head.

And all my life, I have thought this was the wrong way to be. 

See, we live in a world that favors extroverts—in all their gregarious and socialable glory—over the quiet observer. Every summer, as the new school year approached, I would meticulously arrange my back-to-school outfits and vow to God and my teddy bear Nick, that this year—this year!—was the year that I would be fun and outgoing and make new friends. I desperately wanted to be called “the life of the party” (whatever that means) and I secretly, fervently dreamed that I would nominated for the Homecoming court. (Delusional is also a good word for this particular pipedream.) 

Making friends, opening up to people...this was a tortuous process for me, fraught with self-doubt and disillusionment in my own worth. The sad reality is that I actually love to meet new people, to learn their stories and discuss their dreams and to connect as human beings. I just didn’t know how to achieve this without wading through small talk and mild pleasantries.

In Korea, a woman in our knitting group, a classic extrovert, was distraught over how to deal with her extremely introverted daughter. As we knit, my friend Kathryn, a wise introvert, would share how she felt and thought and dealt with her introvertness. It was the first time that I had ever realized that I was not alone in my experiences, and it gave me comfort. 

I read a book last week, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking and it changed my life. Susan Cain, the introverted author, exposes the benefits and beauties of being an introvert in a world that favors—rather unfairly—extroverts. For the first time, I felt that being an introvert was something of great power and purpose; a defining characteristic that gives me worth.

Most empowering—at least to me—was her determination (and much research backs this up) that introverts are not anti-social misanthropes, but rather, we are what are called “high reactives.” Unlike most extroverts, we have strong reactions to strange, loud, crowded or unfamiliar places. We are disoriented by social situations—not because we don’t like to be social, but the environment in which we are often forced to be social is distracting and disorienting. We favor intimate, familiar social settings, smaller groups, where we can have in-depth conversations that skip all the silly small talk that drives most introverts insane. 

Understanding this, and recognizing that most introverts feel this way, has been very helpful to me. It’s changed the way I perceive social situations and how I prepare myself to interact with people. 

But best of all….I have stopped feeling that just because I’m an introvert, I’m not as worthwhile a person as an extrovert. In fact, I love myself more now because I am an introvert. 

And that feels pretty good. 

I highly recommend reading Quiet or at the very least, check out Susan Cain's TED Talk from this past March: 

A Dirty Little Secret

I'm going to share a little secret about myself...the kind of dirty little secret we all have but would never admit to anyone.

I hate to brush my teeth.

In declaring my aversion to what many consider a sacrosanct daily ritual, I must clarify that despite my distaste for tooth brushing, I still do it, at least twice a day, as recommended by 5 out of 5 dentists. I just hate every single second of it.

Now, there are times when a thorough flossing and a deep brushing are particularly satisfying. And when done right, there's nothing I love better than getting a cleaning at the dentist's office (except for the fluoride wash because that is just a small step above torture, in my opinion). I once paid an obscene amount of money to have a delighted dental hygienist attack my entire mouth with a pointy little dental probe and scrape out all the build-up between my teeth, in and around my gums, and everywhere that probe could go. My mouth throbbed for days, but oh, it felt good and it felt clean.

But brushing my teeth with my boring little toothbrush with my boring minty toothpaste (or not minty, when I use David's because he's sensitive to mint) is boring and monotonous and often makes me question the meaning of life.

There are two types of teeth in my family: my mother's, who could have purchased a nice car with the amount of money contained within her mouth and my father's, whose teeth have never had the distinct pleasure of requiring a filling. Ever. My guilt over tooth brushing stems largely from the fact that, unlike the rest of genetically blessed siblings, I have my mother's mouth. I have simply stopped counting the number of cavities I have had filled or the amount of hours I have sat in a dentist's chair, my mouth propped open by some torture device and or listened to the sound of an electric drill whirling away inside my mouth.

My most frequent nightmares almost always include some variation of my teeth falling out, rotting away, or having my jaw/mouth wired shut, or having my mouth so full of bubblegum (which I admittedly love to chew) that I cannot breathe or talk and I cannot remove it from my mouth even when I try to pull it out.

Dream interpretations often suggest that losing your teeth is rooted in a fear of being embarrassed or made fun of in social situations (particularly over appearances) or to symbolize a sense of powerlessness. The mouth-full-of-gum either means that I have trouble communicating what I want to say or that I have sleep apnea and need to seek immediate medical attention.

And while these interpretations make quite a bit of sense for me personally (except for the sleep apnea thing), I still think it's my subconscious' way of guilting me into brushing my teeth with more vigor....or sometimes, just brushing them at all.

And now I shall go brush my teeth in anticipation for bedtime....and I may even floss.

Wandering feet to become wandering minds.....maybe?

David and I often discuss our blog. It comes up every few weeks in "Oh, we really should blog about something" way or a "I keep meaning to, but I don't know what to write" moan or a "I don't think anyone reads this thing anymore" realization. It's not that life is boring. In fact, life is pretty full for both of us and that may be where the problem stems. Amid all the homework, jobs, dirty diapers, and Stargate episodes (don't judge....we like SciFi), blogging just doesn't top the list of things to do.

While Zara is the most adorable, intelligent, delightful [and frustrating] child ever produced by two people (we're quite proud, thanks for asking), our blog has been veering into baby journal with a side helping of travelogue territory for quite some time. None of these things are inherently bad. I enjoy reading about my friends' children, daily life, and travel adventures and see no problem with our blog--which was meant for family and friends--to continue to do the same.

But whenever David and I think of what to write, we invariably want to delve deeper and write about our recent ruminations and reflections on life and the random topics that interest us. So, this is fair warning that in addition to updates on Zara's awesomeness and our day-to-day adventures, we may be filling this blog with more substantive material. This blog will still be written mainly for our friends and family--we don't aspire for a large readership--and you are welcome to ignore our intellectual--and not so intellectual--ramblings or jump in and start a conversation.

Things could start to get a little fun around here.

(But I make no promises.)

(Because it will still probably take me another 2 months to write another blog post.)

Zara's Second Birthday!

Miss Zara Hope Malone had a birthday last Friday and she had a grand old time. On Friday afternoon, we got together with some of my friends and their children at Bicentennial Park in Provo. It was a beautiful day, not too hot or sunny, but perfect park day weather. The kids played on the playground, swung in the swings, and ran wild and we had a little lunch and cupcakes in honor of Zara's birthday. It was low key and enjoyable. I'm glad that so many of my friends were able to come because, let's be honest, a two year old's birthday is not for the two year old. Zara had absolutely no concept that Friday was any different than any other day, but she got to eat cake and I got to hang out with my friends. All in all, a win for both of us.

David came home from work early and we played together and then went to Cafe Zupas for dinner since we had a gift card. We came home, ate MORE cupcakes, opened presents and put Zara to bed, completely hopped up on lots of sugar.

Zara loves cupcakes.

Can I eat it now?

"Daddy, I can't eat my cupcake if you kiss me!"

Zara shows you how a cupcake should be eaten.

No hands!

Today being Labor Day, we took the holiday to make a trip to Ikea. I really wanted to buy a toy organizer for Zara's room since her toys are all over the place, mostly stored in various plastic containers (mostly in our living room) and they are not easily accessible for Zara to play with. We ended up coming home with this pretty white storage unit and fun pink and white containers.

We may have also bought some new train tracks for Zara to play with. She loves pushing the trains around and saying "Choo choo!" the whole time.

The containers are HUGE and hold all her toys and there's still room for more. (I do want to toss several of her toys out soon as well.) I love the fun colors and the ease with which Zara will now be able to play with all her toys. And maybe she will play with them in HER room rather than taking over the limited space in our front room.

I know that this is far more a gift for me than for Zara but like I said, a two year old has no expectations for their birthday so I'll just buy her what I want for myself until she starts having an opinion of her own. And when that day comes, heaven help us. That girl is stubborn.

We just love our Baby Zara and may soon have to wean ourselves of calling her baby all the time. We are just so proud of our little girl and I think she's just the best dang kid out there. We're so glad she's ours and hope to have many more birthdays to celebrate with her. Happy Birthday Zara!